The Misfits
by Matt the Batman Fan
Summary: A tale of heroes saving the world one sin at a time.
1. Welcome and Unwelcome Visitors

The Misfits

Issue #1- Welcome and Unwelcome Visitors

"You saw me as second-rate. Not being able to be as good as the "other" Robin!"

Six months.

"I don't think I can stay here anymore."

One-hundred and eighty-four days.

"All we took was ten minutes from you!"

One-hundred and eighty-four days, four hours, and, damn it, that last fall destroyed his watch.

"Forget about being a _detective_ for once. We are who we are. That's why this works."

He made a mental note to discuss the faulty inner workings of Waynetch's latest donation to the world of technology with Lucius later this morning.

"I was part of the legacy though, wasn't I? At least for a little while?"

Bruce Wayne wondered if other superheroes, his so-called peers, contemplated their failures as ardently as he did. He didn't see it as possible. If they did, then how could Clark always have that All-American grin plastered on his face every time Bruce perused _The Daily Planet_? Maybe it was some kind of metahuman-related denial, some exaggerated external locus of control brought about by extreme stress. Is that why Wally and Kyle could yammer on about some old Monty Python or Japanimation reference whenever things ran slow at Justice League meetings?

Batman knew his rationale was bordering on the nonsensical. However, everyone always seemed to think he was so damn smart, even the people who claimed to loathe him and his way of thinking just before they asked him for help. To them, he was the ill-tempered malcontent that everyone turned to when the tough questions needed answering. Well, this was a tough question, so why the hell couldn't he figure this out?

Then again, things have been pretty rough lately.

His latest encounter with Jason Todd, his former protégé and current rival, yielded results that were frustratingly similar to that of their previous face-offs: numerous bumps, bruises, and scratches, a slight smattering of property damage, a dash of dead criminals, and no answers to the many questions simmering in the forefront of the detective's mind. Additionally, all investigations into the hows and whys behind Jason's unexpected arrival only resulted in the need for further inquiry. Even something as simple as Jason's intentions remained murky, with the man seemingly dividing his time between extracting some personal revenge upon him while attempting to gain a foothold in the ever-tumultuous Gotham underworld.

The body count was beginning to rise and it was only a matter of time before an innocent was caught in the crossfire. And, as much as he would refuse to admit it to anyone, a large part of the problem was that he had no one to turn to for help. Tim and Cassandra had apparently set up shop in Bludhaven and had some run-ins with The Penguin. Dick had returned to Bludhaven as well after helping clean up the damage from their recent battle with Amazo. The android had been a security measure of the masochistic murderer known as the Black Mask, the current head of the Gotham City hierarchy of crime.

It had been Nightwing's departure that truly stung him. He honestly thought that Dick would stay. At least for a little while. He thought he, above everyone else, would have understood.

Selina had made it abundantly clear that the two of them needed some time apart. Barbara and Helena had gone off to Metropolis after the destruction of the Clock Tower on that awful day. The Justice League did not want anything to do with him, and vice versa for that matter. By the time the dust had cleared from the mass exodus, he was only left with Alfred. He had been abandoned by those who claimed to care for him. Then again, it wasn't as if he put in a lot of effort to stop them. Hell, he all but held the door open.

It was this foul walk down memory lane that brought him back to the origin of his latest round of brooding; the latest good soul to be cut down in his endless, labyrinthine quest for justice.

Stephanie Brown.

She was the fourth person to dawn the mantle of Robin.

Her fledgling hero career had begun when she prevented her own father, a small time crook and con-man, from succeeding in one of his more pitiable schemes. A girl dismayed with a life of struggle and normalcy, she donned a costume and dubbed herself the Spoiler. Though her competency and capacity for restraint left a great deal to be desired, her enthusiasm, her determination, and her will to succeed and carry on throughout her life's many difficulties drew him to her. However, despite his grudging respect for the girl, she had spent only 70 days as Robin when he dubbed Stephanie as unfit for duty.

He had told her that it was because she refused to follow orders, but that was only part of it. Yes, there was no doubt that Stephanie had the innate tendency to get on his last, well-frayed nerve in an alarmingly short amount of time. She talked too much when it was time to start fighting. When she finally got around to it, she was prone to excessive violence, choosing to extract unnecessary pain when simple incapacitation would do. However, Bruce could not deny that these aspects made her no different from Dick or Jason when they were that young.

And that was the problem. Tim Drake, the third Robin, was an incredible fighter, an inspired detective, and loyal to the core. However, he had all the tools to succeed even before he had joined the good fight. The boy only needed someone to point him in the right direction. Tim would have shined just as brilliantly had he never met the Batman. Stephanie, on the other hand, was a work-in-progress; an alarmingly fragile soul seeking anyway to climb up from the hole that life had dug her into.

Despite her troubles, she never stopped smiling and telling those idiotic jokes that frequently made him wish that the passenger seat to the Batmobile had an actual ejector seat. While he indirectly pushed his former partners and friends away, Stephanie did everything in her power to stay with him, to impress him. Slowly but surely, the little noboby from the Gotham streets started to worm her way into Bruce's heart, a place he had hoped to shut off a long time ago. He had learned the price of sharing his heart with anyone.

"How could you let me die!"

Learned it damn well.

The Batman shook off his reveries. As he had noted before, it had been a long night and even he realized that he could do with a couple hours sleep. He fired his zip-line towards a nearby rooftop, the grapple lodging into the aged stone of the tenement brownstone. He swung down towards the Batmobile, one of the few tools that remained undamaged from the night's proceedings. He tried not to wince as the vehicle's engine gave off a voluble roar as it thundered to life. His weaving through the sparsely populated twilight streets of Gotham was more of an afterthought, a practice honed by over two decades of experience.

"I'm sorry, Batman. I know I messed up, but I swear I'll try harder."

Yes, even a perennial pessimist like Bruce Wayne could recognize that things were not going as well as they should be.

-2-

Lloyd Thomas had no bloody clue on why he was here.

As far as new homes could go, Gotham City was hardly making a pristine first impression. The atmosphere was loud, the groceries were over-priced, and the streets smelled faintly of piss.

_Bugger. At least the people in Hong Kong knew enough to invest in a street sweeper!_

"HELP! THIEF!"

Then again, the town had its' fair share of excitement.

The source of the scream was an aged, black woman that appeared to previously be overburdened by several large grocery bags. However, now the items were askew and some opportunistic fellow was running off with her purse. The bandit looked to be no older than sixteen, his nimble sprint emboldened both by youth and experience.

No one was making any efforts to stop him. _Typical American compassion_, Lloyd thought snidely. Then again, maybe Mao had a point. Maybe he should give Gotham City a chance.

"SOMEBODY STOP HIM! PLEASE!"

_Well, first things first_.

By the time Lloyd had begun to move, the robber was a good thirty feet away from him and well on his way towards making a clean getaway. With the grin of a devil, the young man was in motion, the living definition of a hunter. Within a fraction of a second, Lloyd was standing in front of the robber, his countenance set in stone. He tried not to laugh out loud as the mugger crashed headlong into his chest.

As Ryan Black recovered from his unexpected stumble, he looked into the eyes of a predator; sharp, hazel orbs that looked down on him with dangerous bemusement. The night's overcast skies and the man's black hair made him look like some kind of boogeyman.

Although he currently didn't look the part, Ryan Black was a fairly bright fellow. In the back of his addled mind, the young man couldn't help but wonder just how exactly he didn't bowl the stranger over. He looked to be about his age and he was by no means a big fella. Although he stood at a shade under six feet, it was clear that the man was nothing but lean muscle and lanky limbs even under the coverings of a heavy black sweater. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to put any more effort into this line of thought, since the man's toothy grin and ominous glare seemed to shut down everything above and below his stomach.

"Out for an evenin' jaunt, are we?" the British scarecrow asked as he picked up the purse. "Call me a critic, but this doesn't seem like your style, mate. The little silver sparklies 'round the edges doesn't really scream masculinity."

The jackal was looking towards the old bat he had robbed. "Don't mind if I give this bag back to the nice lady, do ya? She looks a bit hacked off an' she could use a pick-me-up. Do me a favor an' stay here 'till I get back, eh?"

The seemingly friendly slap on his shoulder the British man gave him as he walked away felt like a sledgehammer. He was trying to run away. He really was. Why the hell couldn't he move his legs? _Oh, Jesus. He's coming back_.

"Well, fellow. Since I got you down here and all, you don't happen to know where I kin find Victor Fries, do you?"

The man didn't even wait for him to say that he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "Use to be a primetime scientist, I heard. Big with cryogenics, trying to eliminate terminal illnesses and all that. Pulled a Frankenstein, went 'round the bend and now calls himself Mister Freeze. What cha think would drive a man to go crackers like that, hm?"

A strangled gasp was the only response that Ryan was able to accomplish.

"Now apparently he's become the latest mercenary hired by the Black Mask. You heard of him, by any chance? No? Well, _he's_ callin' himself the new lord of Gotham City. Bleedin' ridiculous, I think. City's been standin' 'ere over 200 years. How many people you think have called themselves the king of this mountain? City this big, you're bound to get your neck hacked off for stickin' out that far. Least that's what I think. Any thoughts on _that_?"

Another stifled mumble.

"Not much of a talker, are ya Ryan? Ah, well. Truth be told, I'm not much for gossip either. Still though, someone's gotta hold the bootstraps up on our little chat, right? Ooh, by the way. You don't happen to know where I can find Batman, do ya?"

Another murmur. At least this one he could put a bit of volume into it.

"Well, well, this chat's getting lively! Yeah, me old boss tol' me to come over to Gotham and find him. Said that he'd like to see two of his old students workin' together. Didn't really put much thought into actually going through wit' it 'til now. Figured I'd see the man, call him a git, and be on my way. After all this though it's beginning to look like this ol' town could be a good place to hang me hat. Fellow can't survive on hotel mini-bars all his life, after all."

Ryan could hear the faint wail of a police siren. He really should be running right now, so why wasn't he?

"Well," said the man with the unruly mop of black hair and glowing hazel eyes, "looks like your ride is here. 'Fore you go though, allow me to give ya a nice bit of advice. Next time you come up with the bright idea of robbing old women, try and remember this little experience. And feel free to tell all your friends about it too."

The man rose up to his feet, shouldering his coat with a ghastly smile.

"After all, everyone loves a good story."

-3-

Jason Todd hissed as his brain registered the sting of the alcohol as he treated the wound just below his right shoulder blade. It was nothing more than a hairline scrape, the price paid for being a half-second too slow in dodging one of Bruce's attacks. It was something that needed to be handled, however. The last thing he needed was to be a step slow because of a small wound that went bad. Bruce had taught him that, although Jason had always suspected that it was secondhand-advice courtesy of Alfred.

The dark-hearted vigilante tried diligently to shake those old thoughts aside. Nostalgia wouldn't help him win this fight. It wouldn't prove that Bruce had never treated him fairly. It wouldn't prove that Bruce had always underestimated him. It wouldn't prove that he could run this town better than that old fool ever could. He had to focus on the here and now.

With a wounded groan, the former Robin hefted himself to his feet and observed his living quarters: two-room apartment, wooden floors, some training equipment in one corner and an aged twin bed in the other. A Spartan existence to be sure, but Jason wanted to keep things simple. Take out the Black Mask and take over the Gotham crime world in order to destroy it from within. And, if Bruce didn't like it, then he'd get rid of him too.

Simple.

His old teacher's interference was not wholly unexpected, but even Jason had to admit that it disheartened him. Maybe, he had thought, after all the pain and sorrow and hell that Wayne had endured, perhaps he would understand that this was the way to go. No compromise, no grey line.

No mercy.

Jason once again shook his head to and fro, trying desperately to rid himself of his indecision and shake himself free from the one time in his life when he had a life and a place to call home. Bruce had taken him in from the streets of Gotham and gave him a purpose, a means to focus all the anger and frustration earned and gained from living the life of a small-time thief and troublemaker. However, as his apprenticeship went on, Jason had grown to realize something, something that had taken that little prick Grayson years to discover.

Bruce wasn't even remotely interested in letting Jason find his own purpose. Bruce was forcing his own purpose upon him, turning him into another mindless drone for his endless, fruitless war. Once Jason found that out, Batman suddenly discovered that he was a loose cannon, a black sheep that he didn't have the time or energy to deal with.

Then along came his mother.

Then the Joker. The trap he should have seen coming. The crowbar coming down upon the bridge of his skull, the sharp crack of his nose and lower jaw snapping like wet twigs, the oozing sensation of unconsciousness as the clown struck again and again. Waking up and feeling the dried blood draped and cracking over his broken face.

The explosion.

Then the coffin, oh Lord the coffin. The sudden jolt of waking from his undisturbed slumber. The joy of being alive shattered horribly with the stench of mothballs and no air to breathe. Kicking, scratching, and clawing through his former tomb, the dirt tumbling over him, crawling into the gaps of his clothing, filling his mouth and nostrils.

_StopitstopitstopitstopitstopitSTOP!_

Jason roared and threw the rubbing alcohol at the far wall with all the strength he could muster. The bottle collided with the cheap plaster wall with an ignoble thud, the clear contents spilling over the already messy floor.

No more distractions. He had already had his share in the past five years. He had been scouring the world, searching and training under some of the world's most vicious fighters. It had been an invaluable experience, but Jason couldn't help but think that each new lesson learned threatened to deter him from his ultimate goal. He had learned everything he had needed to learn, however, and no one would hold the sway of superiority over him.

More importantly, he had spent too long serving under the whims and intentions of people who didn't appreciate him. From Bruce to Talia to that bandaged freak Elliot, Jason had spent far too long listening to the wrong people, to other people. He was the master of his own destiny and no one would stop him from achieving what he desired. Not Richard Grayson, not that pretender Drake, not the Black Mask and most certainly not the Batman.

Jason gave off a hearty sigh, his self-faith reaffirmed. The pain of his wounded shoulder had ebbed into a lingering sting. Tomorrow it would be just another scar, another symbol showing how far he had come from that contemptible little boy who thought it was cool to run around in a colorful tunic and pixie shorts. A brief self-assessment led him to the conclusion that he didn't need food or water. A simple rest would do.

He gave off a languid stretch, listening to the pop of muscles and joints that had spent a little too much time lying dormant. With a confident walk, he moved towards to his austere sleeping quarters and reclined against the sole pillow lain upon it. He picked up a threadbare paperback and lazily leafed through the well-worn pages. Satisfied and assuaged with the belief that Bruce would endure another sleepless night, Jason absently scanned over _The Fall of the House of Usher_ for a handful of moments before finally dozing off.

-4-

Alfred Pennyworth normally had an uncanny knack for predicting when his charge would return from his nightly patrol. Thus, he was rather surprised to hear the familiar rumble of the Batmobile at just a shade past three in the morning. What with the recent troubles with Jason, the Black Mask's ongoing attempts to keep Gotham within his mad grip, and the various everyday scuffles to be endured, the butler had hypothesized that Bruce would not return until the very break of dawn. This was not a much beloved conclusion, granted, but one that Alfred had deemed inevitable.

As the vehicle came to a stop, Alfred took a break from his latest examination of the broken and disassembled former coffin of Jason Todd and moved to examine Bruce. Though the cape, cowl, and costume was sporting a sizeable number of rips and tears, Alfred had seen his charge looking far worse, particularly in the past year. To make up for his physical well-being, however, Bruce's face held a darkened scowl that indicated an unhealthy dose of gloom, even under his quite impressive standards.

"Another run in with Master Jason, I presume?" Alfred asked as he worked to relieve Bruce of his heavy battle armor. Bruce accepted the gesture without resistance, but chose not to respond. This reaction did not surprise Alfred in the least. After many years of serving as the Batman's field surgeon, caretaker, and confidant, Alfred Pennyworth had come a long way to mastering the art of one-way conversation. Besides, with Bruce's current mood, a frustrated, unanswered question was bound to be forthcoming. Yes, yes, right about. . .

"Why is he doing this?"

Alfred sighed. It was an unsurprising, but nevertheless unsettling query. From what he and Bruce had been able to gather, Jason had originally returned to Gotham under the employ of a man calling himself Hush. However, Jason had not made himself truly known until several weeks after Black Mask's violent takeover. Since then, the Batman had spent many restless nights searching for any clue, employing any means to discover the source of Jason's return.

To be brutally frank, Alfred feared that this venture was costing Bruce a great deal more than extra time to sleep.

Roman Sionis was hardly a fool, but Alfred never considered the Black Mask to be capable of outsmarting his pledge. As far as he was concerned, Sionis' victory, not to mention his continued control of Gotham, was another circumstance that should have been preventable and would have been stopped if other things had not gotten in the way. From Bruce's discovery of the mind wipes performed by the Justice League to the breaking of ties between Bruce and his former associates to Jason's unexpected return to Gotham City, it seemed that matters that would have been solved quickly and with little effort in the past now seemed to linger and take their toll.

"Well, Master Bruce. Your search has shown that the only plausible and consistent source of rejuvenation from death is the Lazarus Pit." Alfred gave off an inward shudder while mentioning the caustic jumble of primordial chemicals that had revived Ra's Al-Ghul on a number of occasions throughout the course of centuries. "The pit offers life at the price of sanity. Perhaps that is the source of Jason's misplaced aggression?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "It's as I explained before Alfred, the Lazarus Pit only works for the recently deceased. By the time we had buried Jason, it had been over a week since his death." Bruce slumped down in his seat in front of the enormous mainframe computer that dominated the center of the Batcave. "And to be honest, I don't necessarily believe that his anger is altogether misplaced."

Bruce brought his thumbs and ring fingers together and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's all my fault, Alfred. I should have never brought Jason into this world." He gave off a bitter, caustic laugh. "Who am I to judge whether one way of living life is superior to another? What good has it done for me? What good has it done for anyone?"

Alfred's lips pursed as he continued to listen to the Batman's pity parade. The 67-year-old butler knew Bruce Wayne better than anyone and was well-aware of the man's worth. For all the cold receptions and pointed glares, for all the detached behaviors of a detective's mind honed endlessly by horror and tragedy, a small part of Bruce was still concerned for the well-being of a man who had gone to considerable effort to wipe him off the face of the Earth. No matter what any of Bruce's so-called "peers" had to say about it, the heart of the Batman was just as strong as the mind and Alfred was not about to let Bruce continue to wallow in such unnecessary self-doubt.

"Master Bruce, if you utter such a ridiculous statement again I will not hesitate to box your ears. Like you, I had my doubts when you brought that young man back to the manor, when you chose to train him in order to replace Master Dick. However, I do believe I am well-versed enough in the field of dark vigilante psychology to believe that Jason enjoyed his time here. And, at the risk of being expelled from this ever-abominable, ever-odious cavern, I dare say that you did as well."

Bruce gave off the tiniest of smiles. "Yes, old man. I'd say you've had your share of experience there."

"Eighteen years and counting, Master Bruce."

Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne shared a tired, lingering chuckle.

Of course, it would be Bruce that felt compelled to end the moment. "It's been six months now, Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce. I attempted to get in touch with Stephanie's mother as you requested. As you might imagine, the results were less than kind."

Bruce nodded. "Thank you for the effort, Alfred, and I can hardly blame her. I may as well have killed her daughter."

"Master Bruce, continuing to blame yourself for Miss Stephanie's death shall accomplish nothing."

"I was the one who gave her the mantle of Robin, Alfred. It was MY plan that she used in some convoluted attempt to gain my favor that allowed Black Mask to get to where he is now. I should have been there for her. I should have tried harder to convince her to stop."

Try as he might, Alfred could not help but slightly agree with Bruce's admission. It had been no secret that he had been against Bruce's hasty approval to turn Stephanie Brown into Robin, the "Girl Wonder" as the papers had dubbed her (much to Stephanie's personal chagrin). However, during the two months that she held the position, Alfred could not help but grow fond of the young woman. He finally understood why Cassandra Cain, who could easily be as distant and stand-offish as Bruce, would wish to befriend her. Stephanie's energy and joie de vivre had proven to be dangerously infectious, even for the two fairly inflexible denizens currently occupying the Batcave.

"Master Bruce, in your rather unflattering portrayal of your interactions with Miss Stephanie, I cannot help but notice that you chose to ignore a rather important event in your relationship with her."

Bruce rose from his chair, the patented "Bat-glare" at maximum intensity. "I had to fire Stephanie! She lacked the self-discipline and refused to follow my orders!"

"Of course, Master Bruce. I believe you are referring to those two incidents against Zsasz and the assassin that had been hunting Master Timothy. Correct me if I am wrong, but it was quite possible that she saved your life on both occasions. Well, I can most certainly understand your reaction. Everyone should be on the lookout for people displaying such strident examples of disloyalty."

Bruce emitted a noise that seemed to be a cross between a grunt and a growl. Despite its possible peculiarity to others, Alfred recognized it as Bruce's most common gesture when approached with an argument he could not win.

"I'm going to bed."

"Of course, Master Bruce." Alfred knew his limitations when it came to reasoning with the Batman.

But tonight he decided to go for broke.

"However, if I may offer a suggestion." Bruce Wayne froze in his tracks, a clear sign that a cold comment was forthcoming. Alfred chose to speak quickly to prevent it. "I believe it was Miss Stephanie's foremost wish that you did not undergo your crusade alone. If you wish to truly honor her memory, perhaps some calls are in order."

Alfred realized that he had been on thin ice even before he had made such a bold statement. Still, for the sake of Bruce's well-being, he felt he had to risk it.

Bruce turned back to Alfred from his place on the passageway leading to the cozy confines of Wayne Manor.

"Tomorrow's another day, old friend."

As Bruce continued to slowly scale the long stairway, Alfred could not resist the smile creeping onto his face. Nevertheless, it had been a wise decision not to tell Bruce about the call from Mister Tenryu. For someone who felt so comfortable in the ever-tremulous world of Gotham City, Bruce Wayne was never one for change unless it meant a new engine for the Batplane.

-5-

Three hours ago, the Happy Brothers Corner Store had housed over two tons of cocaine that was soon to be sold on the streets of Gotham. Two hours ago, over two dozen of the Black Mask's "employees" charged with the distribution of illegal narcotics had assembled in this hideaway in order to draw out supply lines designed for maximum profit. Now, neither the associates nor the contents of the Happy Brothers Corner Store were likely to garner any value at all.

Two figures, a middle-aged man and a young woman, stood in the midst of destroyed narcotics and unconscious criminals.

"Was all that really necessary, young lady?"

The young girl nodded exuberantly as she waved a finger at the man. "See? That's the problem with your generation! You have no flair for the dramatic! No place for aesthetics! Why do you think no one ever listens to ya anymore?"

The "old man", who didn't look a day over forty, gave the girl a dubious glare. "Well, I'm reasonably certain that Courtney listens to me."

The girl screwed up her face in a comical fashion. "What? Stargirl? That doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment to me. I mean, who goes off to fight the forces of evil in a belly shirt? Why not just have her wear a nice big target? By the way, is it true that she wears braces?"

The man remained silently as he searched for any avenue that would lead him away from the sudden turn the conversation had taken. "You know, it isn't too late for you to rescind your decision. You've already proven yourself to the Council and even if you didn't want to work all the way out there, we would be more than happy to have you in the J.S.A."

The girl gave the older man a wistful smile and shook her head. "No dice, my man. It's just like I said before. This is my home. It's dark, it's depressing, it smells faintly of pee, but it's mine." The girl put a closed fist onto her chin. "Besides, I always thought that Hawk Man was an ass-hole."

"I could make a comment about the pot and the kettle right about now." The man chuckled and checked his watch while the girl snorted with laughter. "It's been ten minutes since I made that call. Just how slow is the G.C.P.D.?"

"Cut 'em some slack. Gotham's a big-ass burg. If you really wanted to get them here in a hurry, you should have just dropped your name."

"I thought you wanted your being here to remain a secret?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "I said _your_ name. It's not like I'm going to stay for all the boring red tape. Quite frankly, I was planning on leaving you here and motoring back to the hotel."

"Such a responsible young lady." The man seemed ready to say something else, but the faint sound of sirens had drawn his attention. "Well, with that we should probably both make our getaway."

The girl agreed, her face set in a smile. "Sure you don't want to stick around? Looks like a wonderful opportunity for a photo-op and you old fogies always seem to be such fans of those."

The man avoided the young lady's digs and made his way towards the fire escape. "Come along now. We'll save the next trip for tomorrow. And for the record, it was Wildcat that always wanted to do those."

"Uh-huh. Sure."


	2. Cold, Colder, Coldest

The Misfits

Issue #2- Cold, Colder, Coldest

A dusty back office in a long-abandoned riverside resort hardly seemed like the opportune setting for a self-inventory. However, for someone who claimed to have his finger on the very pulse of Gotham City, Roman Sionis did not appear to be intelligent enough to supply suitable accommodations for his employees. For Victor Fries, however, it would have to do.

Fries noted that among the Black Mask's dearth of nonexistent, leadership-oriented traits included an inability to sustain good morale. Half of the thugs and hooligans sent to accompany him seemed ready to rabbit off at even the slightest provocation. Though Victor would normally have abhorred such a display of disloyalty, Victor could certainly sympathize with their indecision and understand their anxiety. After all, if it was one thing that the denizens of Gotham City knew about, it was survival and only a disinterested fool with no regards to their own could ignore the fact that something big was about to happen; something that would most likely lead to another sweep of death upon the city.

As the silence wore on, Victor contemplated that perhaps the only thing that had kept his "troops" in place was the threat that he would kill them should they attempt to desert.

Try as he might, Fries found that unsettling.

Was this what his life had become? Serving as a hired gun for some fly-by-night psychotic masquerading as a crime lord? What of all those hours spent in the laboratory seeking the pathway to eternal life? What of his mystique; the image of a troubled, Quixotic genius seeking an endearing, yet impossible goal?

He was once a man respected and feared for his genius and obsession. Now, well, he was feared for altogether different reasons.

Victor occupied himself by running a diagnostic on his armor, a rueful glare hidden slightly by the blue glow of his faceplate. It had taken him nearly two weeks and a great deal of his stipend from Sionis to repair the damage that the Batman and that ridiculous pretender had done. Of course, he had also made the normal allowance of upgrades: enhanced strength, more efficient targeting systems, et cetera. It occurred to him that a decade ago, when he viewed the suit as nothing more than a defense mechanism, he would hardly have gone through all the trouble and expense.

Then again, he still had his beloved Nora to look after and care for then. Now that was gone as well, washed away and taken from him like so many of the things he once held dear. He had originally blamed the Batman for this horrible occurrence, but Fries knew enough that his hated rival was not at fault. He had become blind to many things, but not upon the downward spiral that had taken hold of him. Nora's death was merely the first hard shove down the slippery slope his life had become. Why couldn't he stop it?

And did he even want to anymore? What would Nora say about the things he had been doing? What would she say if she had to look at the face of that young bank teller as it chipped and cracked from the effects of invasive hypothermia? He once devoted his life of crime to correct an awful mistake, taking solace that his many crimes were all for a greater good. Now, however, not even the man dubbed Mister Freeze could possibly be cold enough to ignore the horrible deeds that he has done.

Fries' daydreaming was broken with the sound of shouting, warnings that an intruder had arrived. The shouts were soon followed by a multitude of crashes and screams. Victor sighed and prepared himself for yet another battle. Perhaps it was the Batman, finally zeroing in on him after over a week of hiding. Most likely it was that contemptible masked worm that seemed so intent in usurping Sionis, the Red something-or-other. '_Were the Birds of Prey still working out of Gotham?' _Victor thought, continuing to run down his possible attackers.

However, the intruder wasn't the Red Hood. It wasn't Black Canary or Huntress or even the Batman.

In fact, it wasn't a masked vigilante at all.

Instead, it was a boy who looked no older than eighteen, his thin face lit up by a wicked smile. Wearing a large black sweater and matching work pants, he looked far more suited for a poetry reading rather than crashing a den for brutes and gangsters. However, the boy's small, blood-stained hands told an entirely different tale.

"Victor Fries, I presume?"

The voice was British, perhaps originated from Bath with a mixture of North London to give it an edge. With a furtive rush, some damn fool that had been standing beside Fries pulled out his gun. Without even the slightest gesture, the thug was hurtled against the back wall of the office, his body and gun crashing to the floor. The boy emitted a sinister chuckle as the thug groaned in agony.

"Don't worry wanker. Not gonna kill ya. Me old boss said that the Bat doesn't allow killing. Somethin' about justice 'n not takin' the law in our hands 'n becomin' our enemies and other shite like that."

Fries wasn't certain if the boy was talking to him or the thug. The latter was surely not in a condition to listen.

The young man went on. :That being said, you'll all have your share of bumps and bruises by the time I'm done with ya." And now the boy turned to him, removing all doubt as to who he was talking to. "You, in particular."

"Is that correct?" Extracting a fraction of energy from his armor, Fries forcibly shoved aside the oak table that stood in the middle of the room. The table shattered as it collided with the wall, but the boy did not make the slightest of movements save for his grin growing ever-so-slightly wider.

"Quakin' in me booties, I am," the boy said disdainfully.

"Do you work for the Batman?" Fries asked.

"Not yet I don't. I will be soon though. Figured since you used to be one of his big-time enemies _and_ you're working for Black Mask now, it'd be a good idea to kick your arse an' ship you off to Arkham. Good first impression and all that."

"I see."

"'Fore I beat you about though, quick question. Didn't you used to be some big-time scientist or something? I mean, with all the gadgets and things in that fancy suit of yours I figured you could make a good bit of dosh goin' legit. Why are you even doing this?"

_A good question_, Victor thought.

To respond, Fries held up his gun and fired.

"You don't know me."

* * *

"Yet another night amidst the less-refined citizens of our immaculate community, Master Bruce?"

Batman responded with a glimmer of a grin as he slipped the heavy cowl over his head.

"I don't suppose you could stop at the late-night convenience store, could you? We are running short on eggs and flour." It took a fair amount of Bruce's emotional constitution to refrain from acknowledging such a ridiculous notion.

"Let me know if there are any calls on the scanner that might indicate that Jason is active. If he starts trouble, I want to be there before the police arrive."

"Do you suppose that he may have had something to do with the drug raid last night?"

The Batman sighed. The GCPD's raid of an old, shut-down former grocery store had yielded a great deal of cocaine, wanted criminals available for arrest, and a front page story on every newspaper in Gotham. The papers and the police had claimed that the raid was spurred on by an autonomous tip, but the Batman knew better than to believe the story at face value.

"No dead bodies," Bruce replied, his voice gravelly, low, and "all Batman". "It could be anyone." He moved quickly to give another once-over of the many supplies within his utility belt before moving to depart. "Yet another mystery."

"Well, you are a detective, Master Bruce. Additionally, I may have a possible clue to provide. I received a call from Mr. Mao Tenryu yesterday."

"Mao?" Bruce turned back towards Alfred. Even though the white lenses of the cowl hid Bruce's eyes, Alfred knew that they were wide with surprise. "And what did he want?"

"He told me that he had learned of your recent personnel problems, as he put it, and he offered to send one of his associates to aid you."

Bruce almost snarled as he pulled off his cowl with his left hand and used his right hand to rub his throbbing temples. When he spoke again, it was with the low baritone that he employed whenever he wanted information without the inconvenience of backtalk. "Exactly why didn't you tell me about this sooner and please tell me that you told him that I didn't need any of his help."

"Forgive me, Master Bruce. Between your 9 o'clock board meeting, your noon lunch with the mayor, and your requisite three hours sleep I had presumed that your plate was full. However, since we are on the subject of denial, is there any chance that you placed those calls that I had mentioned last night during your afternoon labors?"

Bruce was so astonished with Alfred's dogged determination and defiance that he had to laugh. As infuriating as it may be, Alfred's stubbornness was yet another of Alfred's qualities that he had always respected. "I spoke with Cassandra. She said that she and Tim accepted my apology but they didn't think they should come back to Gotham. At least not right away."

Alfred nodded glumly. "Much as I had anticipated. Still, it is good that the lines of communication are open. And Master Grayson?"

"I contacted the Outsiders," Bruce replied, referring to the rag-tag group that Dick had been working with over the past six months. "Apparently he hasn't spoken with them in the last week. I ended up having a ten-minute conversation with Arsenal about his daughter and the latest Waynetech aircraft prototypes." He smiled slightly while mentioning this, a gesture born more likely from astonishment than happiness.

Alfred chuckled, shocked that his charge would spend that long on a telephone with anyone, let alone a fellow "superhero". "I'm surprised that you and Mr. Harper would have so much to speak about."

"He's a good kid," Bruce said as he put his cowl back on. "Can't imagine where he got it from though."

"And Miss Gordon?"

A grumble was the only response that Alfred required.

"Very well then, I suppose that will do for now. Tiny steps and all that. That being said, would you like me to speak with Mr. Tenryu for you?"

Bruce thought it over before finally shaking his head as he made his way to the vast garage that housed enough vehicles to make the Sultan of Brunei envious. "I'll speak with him in the morning. I'll tell him that I don't need any help myself."

Alfred cinched up, having hoped that he could avoid the discussion that was to come. Bruce, of course, caught on to the facial tic immediately.

"He's already sent someone."

"Indeed, sir."

Bruce restrained the escalating desire to drop everything, travel straight to Hong Kong and beat his former mentor senseless. "Lovely. That gives me something else to look for tonight."

"Not to worry, sir. According to Mister Tenryu, his employee will make himself easily known."

Bruce turned back towards the Batmobile, not at all comforted by the gesture of courtesy. "Just keep me posted."

"Very good, sir. Happy hunting."

* * *

It took about five seconds for Mister Freeze to realize that the boy was toying with him. He had dodged the first two blasts from his freeze ray with ridiculous ease, the sarcastic smirk still prominent on his lean face. The third attack appeared to have hit him square in the chest, giving Freeze the satisfying belief that he had put the smug simpleton in his place.

Instead, the boy looked him square in the eye. The boy had placed some kind of force-field around him, the focal point merely inches from his chest. Or perhaps it was a force-field, but some alternative form of energy that was strong enough to repel his assault. Whatever it was, it was blocking his attack with little problem.

Hoping to drop his opponent's guard, Freeze abruptly ceased the flow of energy from his pistol. The boy dropped his barrier, as Fries had anticipated. Seemingly undeterred, the boy continued to walk towards him, his gait slow and relaxed. More than willing to take advantage of his opponent's hubris, Freeze fired again, deploying his energy in a flowing field rather than focusing upon one, sharp point. If he couldn't break through the boy's defenses, he would restrain him until he could.

The boy didn't even so much as raise his hands up to defend himself. Instead, he walked straight into the cold. As Freeze intensified his attack, the boy continued to look straight at him, his hazel eyes still bright as the frost surrounded him.

And he smiled.

"Really now, old man. That is just so _cute_."

Were it not true already, Victor Fries' blood would have run cold.

"I trust by your look of shock and panic that you're done?" The boy absently brushed some icicles off his sweater. "My turn, then? Righty-o."

Then Victor Fries felt pain. Blinding, excruciating pain. As he collapsed to the ground, the aged scientist screamed bloody murder, unable to think of anything except the sheer, sudden agony.

"Oh, quit cryin' ya little nit." Somehow, the boy had moved so fast that he was now standing over him. "I only broke your leg in three places, four at most. If all of you Gotham criminals have such low thresholds of pain, then this new job of mine is gonna be a cinch." The boy kneeled down. "All right then. Hold still." The raven-haired boy took a hold of his gun arm. "Need to get this off of ya before you go get all mad and try to freeze the sushi delivery boy 'cause you asked for extra wasabi."

With a mighty yank, the man ripped his gauntlet off of his arm, gun and all. Two more ferocious pulls severed the jet propulsion systems beneath the heels of his boots, leaving him nearly unable to move. With each harsh removal came the appearance of deathly pale limbs atrophied with age and prolonged exposure to immense cold.

"Don't hit the gyms that often, 'ey Popsicle Man? Then again, with all this clumsy armor on I can't see you getting on a treadmill." The boy absently tossed the now-worthless metal aside and watched them skitter across the floor. "Right then. Now we got that squared away I can ask you some questions. Don't suppose you could tell me where your boss' latest shipment of pirated Lexcorp military projects has been ferreted off to?"

"How dare you." Fries gritted out, his body still racked with pain. "You will pay dearly for this affront."

The boy sighed. "Why can't anyone in this town ever carry on a simple conversation? I mean, every time I chat up some bloke its either nonsensical gibberish or death threats. Haven't you people ever heard of finding a happy medium, or at _least_ a sane one."

Victor had recovered enough from the pain of his shattered bones to regain some minor control of his senses. He looked at the boy through his artificial lenses, this creature that had dismantled him with the simplest ease. He was rather surprised to find that he didn't fear him.

"Who are you?" Fries' voice was calm now, but firmly etched with pain. "Why are you doing this?"

The boy nodded satisfactorily. "See? Perfectly sensible questions. Knew you were a bright fellow. As for who I am, well, I like to be called Lloyd Thomas. 'M just a little bloke straight out of Blackpool. Don't know why, but some people like to call me 'The Black Dog'. Bloody ridiculous name, if you ask me personally though. As for why I'm here? Well, apparently I'm here to seek out one of your acquaintances."

Fries nodded. "You're here to see The Batman."

"More or less, although I wouldn't say I'm going to work _for_ him. 'M much too independent for that."

"I see," Fries pulled himself up into a seated position, propping his left leg underneath its splintered twin. He absently noticed that the boy had done nothing to stop him from moving. Perhaps he thought it wasn't worth the trouble. "I too once believed myself to be above the business of servitude."

For once, the expression in Lloyd's face was not one of mirth or sarcasm. "Look mate. I know 's none of my concern, but I think you know as well as I do that Nora wouldn't approve of what you were doing."

It hadn't taken long for Fries to connect the dots. "A telepath and a telekinetic," he said, not looking as if he were offended by the mental intrusion. "Your thoughts on this matter are unwanted and necessary. I am well aware of what I have done."

Lloyd merely nodded, acquiescing to the former scientist's wishes.

Fries sighed wearily, looking up into the starry, fall sky. "I trust the authorities are forthcoming? Very well, perhaps the time in Arkham will do me some good."

Lloyd rose to his feet, the joints of his knee popping lightly as he moved. "I honestly wish you luck in that, Doc. Besides, if you don't turn a new leaf, you know I'll be here to remind you. Now, if you don't mind, it looks like I have someone else to speak to tonight. Bugger, I've suddenly become popular."

Fries looked on quietly as Lloyd Thomas walked out of the abandoned hotel, leaving him alone with a dozen unconscious thugs and his own murky thoughts.

* * *

It had taken what Lloyd had considered to be an unnecessarily elaborate ten-minute game of cat and mouse before the Batman finally descended upon him. He was precisely as Mao had described him. Six feet, two inches, and 220 pounds of power and efficiency, the man was a testament to the achievements that a human being could accomplish through constant training and phenomenal self-discipline.

Lloyd personally thought that the man could stand to lose a bit of muscle. After all, Batman wasn't a meta-human, so it wasn't as if he was going to win any arm-wrestling contests with people who could carry buildings up over their heads. Maybe if he brought himself down to about 200 pounds, he could best combine power and speed in order to be more of a threat.

While Lloyd was wondering when his inner personal trainer had come out to play, the Batman spoke.

"You did a good job with Fries. Now get out of my town."

As odd as it may seem, the sheer rudeness of that statement relieved Lloyd of his nervousness. "Not exactly a basket of flowers there, Dark Knight."

Batman was undeterred. "Gotham City is not within Mao Tenryu's sphere of influence. Return to Hong Kong and tell him that my business is my responsibility."

Lloyd was equally unfazed. "Well, seein' as how much you've managed to muck things up over 'ere, I think it's safe to say that Gotham is Mao's business. You are one of his old charges, after all. Besides, you've seen what I could do in there. Personally, I think it's safe to say that you could use my help."

"I know the kind of 'help' you're capable of providing, 'Black Dog'." Lloyd bristled significantly at the title and the mockery used along with it. "You're nothing more than a contract killer; another one of Mao's amoral hunters sent to do his bidding for scraps in return. I will not tolerate his tactics and I will not tolerate anyone who wished to follow them."

"You know something, Wayne?" Lloyd approached the Batman with a nasty sneer on his face. "I don't appreciate being considered amoral. Granted, I'm not like that little boy scout over in Metropolis who asks 'how high' when you tell him to jump. Nor am I some little street poopsie you picked up so you can strap them up in short shorts and pixie boots and engage in poofy conversations with 'em. I won't deny I've got me shades of gray, but here I go out of my way to offer my services, follow your rules, and you have the unmitigated gall to spit in my face?"

Lloyd turned away from him with a thin chuckle. "Well, I tell you what 'O Ye of The Pissy Disposition', I think 'm gonna be stayin'! Put on some spandex, get me a froofy nickname, and swing about on the rooftops. Don't suppose you can get me in touch with the people that make that Batsignal of yours, can ya? I mean, that's not somethin' you can really copyright, is it?"

When Lloyd turned around the Batman was inches from his face. "If you don't leave town on your own accord, I will _make_ your leave."

"Ooh, you got me all shakin' now!" Lloyd fired back, not the least bit afraid. "Ya know, I think I need to reiterate that I'm not Superman or Aquaman or Wonder Woman or Proto Man or anyone of ya little colorful, cartoon friends. 'M not some person that you can put down by pullin' some magic protocol out ya bum so you can show me that you're superior or above me."

Lloyd backed away from Batman, shaking his head in frustration. "And to be honest, I think you've got more important problems to be dealin' wit' than tellin' off somebody who just wants to lend a helpin' hand." Lloyd stepped toward the roof of the building, peering down at the sparsely populated streets below.

"I've only been 'ere for a few days, but I know what they're thinkin'. Sort of goes with the territory, ya know." He tapped the side of his head with his left ring finger. "They're scared, Wayne. Not just of the simple stuff either like death and taxes and all that bug-a-boo. They're scared that some little priss in white face is gonna rip out their eyes. Scared that some whacked out college professor who thinks he's a scarecrow is going to play wit' their heads until they're scared of their own children. It's bloody wild. I've been in places where people like these guys live. I've even dealt wit' a few of 'em. Still, you don't feel this kind of fear there."

Lloyd focused his attention on a family making their way into a nearby apartment building. The parents stood on either side of the little child that was clumsily holding a melting ice-cream cone.

"I just don't think anyone should have to live like that." He sighed deeply, running a tired hand through his hair. "Sorry 'bout all that. I'm off me soap box now. So what's your take on it?"

But Bruce Wayne had already disappeared into the night.

Lloyd snickered. Mao had told him about that too. Maybe somebody should have told Batman that the whole shadowy appearance schtick didn't work very well on a person who could sense your thoughts from miles away.

"Well, that could have gone better," Lloyd said to no one in particular. "Then again, could have gone worse too."

* * *

All in all, it was a very quiet night in Gotham.

Black Mask's so-called monopoly over Gotham criminal activity did offer a slight advantage for Bruce. With no warring factions engaging in bloody feuds over territory, he could focus his time more efficiently on other important matters. Additionally, Jason also appeared to be taking the night off and Bruce hardly had the manpower to take on Sionis' major bases of operations. This only left the Batman with Gotham's normal collection of muggers, rapists, and C-level sociopaths, which is fine if you're looking for a slow night, but not if you're looking to avoid uncomfortable thoughts and contemplations.

Selina had once told him that his greatest weakness had been his many attachments; his subconscious desire to keep people around him while simultaneously pushing them away. She had referred to them: Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Barbara as strings (a rather ironic description for a woman who called herself Catwoman) that could trip him as he went along his war on crime. On the other hand, she had also once claimed that they were his greatest strength. Of course, that was back when she was trying her damndest to either kill him or steal any valuable diamond or expensive artifact that wasn't nailed down.

It occurred to Bruce that Selina Kyle was perhaps not the most reliable source for a proper psychological evaluation.

Nevertheless, as he had turned onto the back road that led to the underground passageway beneath Wayne Manor, Bruce wondered if either diagnosis was wholly correct and whether or not the young man that Mao had sent to his city could qualify as such a string. Though it had infuriated him that Mao felt it necessary to send someone to "help" him, Bruce was not so blind to notice the boy's usefulness. If the young man was truly interested in helping, then why should he deny him the opportunity?

Or would the young man just be another of his many failures? For someone who had saved the world a dozen times over, Bruce was having a hard time thinking of any accomplishment that he could legitimately be proud of and call his own. The only one he could truly list was Nightwing and what kind of person would ever refer to someone they loved as an _accomplishment_?

Then again, he _certainly _wasn't the most reliable source for a psychological evaluation either.

It was official. He needed some sleep. He'd arrange Alfred to cancel his nine o'clock. If anybody could handle a summit meeting of the most prominent business figures on the eastern seaboard, it was Lucius Fox. There were other things that needed to be done. Before he could make his decision, he would need to acquire more information. A great deal of what he knew about the Black Dog was tainted with the possibility of rumor and he wouldn't make such an important assessment with little more than gossip and chitchat.

He would try to call Dick again as well. Maybe Dinah and Hal if the mood struck him. After all, didn't Alfred want him to mend some fences?

The possibilities were numerous, so long as he didn't have to worry about anything else tonight.

As Bruce was pulling in to the Batmobile's usual parking place, he was surprised to see Alfred rushing towards him. He brought the car to a skidding stop, took several deep breaths in preparation, and slid open the door.

"Now is not the time, Alfred."

Alfred was undeterred. "Master Bruce, before you retire I'm afraid that you have some visitors."

Try as he might, Alfred's statement drew his attention. However, it only took a fraction of a second for Bruce to re-attain his nonchalance. "Is it Nightwing?"

"I'm afraid not, sir, although I daresay that you might be pleasantly surprised."

Bruce sighed deeply. "Tell Clark to fly back to Metropolis. I don't have time for an awe-inspiring team-up right now." He kept walking, not even bothering to listen to Alfred as he removed his cape and cowl. He realized that he was hardly employing his sharp, analytical mind right now, but he was too worn out to care. As he briskly walked down the thin rock bridge leading to the mainframe computer, Bruce spotted a figure awaiting him at the other end.

Standing just a bit over six feet tall, his light, blonde hair was muted by the low track-lighting of the cave. His wardrobe, consisting of a disturbing combination of green, purple, and red garments, would have looked exceedingly silly on most people. However, the man's shining green eyes, which cast a look of unquestionable sincerity and dignity, made the garish outfit into a symbol of nobility. More importantly, it was a symbol that had amazed three little rich kids rushing down the snowy streets of Gotham over 30 years ago.

"My apologies for the inconvenience, Batman, but I felt that you would like to hear what I have to say personally."

The man stuck out his hand, a gesture that Bruce normally would have brusquely ignored. For this man, however, he respectfully accepted and returned the handshake.

"It appears that I'm going to have to speak to my butler about letting strangers into the cave, Mr. Scott."

Alan Scott, the Earth's eldest Green Lantern, smiled broadly, not at all put off by the gentle admonishment. "Well, you're always welcome to visit New York to return the favor. Ted would always be happy to see an old student and Mister Terrific is always ready to talk shop with somebody who can keep up with him."

"Mr. Scott, I apologize for my rudeness, but could you please tell me why you've come to Gotham? I've had a very long night."

"I apologize, Master Scott," Alfred interrupted. "Apparently my lesson in discretion must be put on hold so that I may remind Master Bruce about displaying good manners."

Bruce glared at Alfred much in the same way as a teenager would look at their parents after saying something utterly embarrassing.

"Both of you, it's Alan. I hardly need anyone else reminding me how old I am. As for why I'm here, I think I have somebody who wants to lend you a hand."

Before Bruce could tell the Green Lantern that he neither wanted nor needed such a thing, a figure seated in the chair facing the mainframe computer turned towards him. A pair of heavy boots landed on the sturdy rock floor as the young woman rose from the chair. Five-and-a-half feet of lean muscle, she looked a great deal differently than the figure that had haunted many of Bruce's dreams in the past 185 days. However, that impish smile, bright blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes were unmistakable.

"Hey boss," said Stephanie Brown, clad in a makeshift Robin costume. "You will not _believe_ the day I've had!"


	3. Batman vs Robin

Issue #3

Batman vs. Robin

"You know what, B? This actually does my heart good!"

Despite Stephanie Brown's enthusiasm, it was safe to say that most people would not share her attitude if they were in the same predicament. The 16-year-old was being submitted to a battery of medical tests strapped to a large, cold metal gurney in the middle of a musty cave populated mostly by bats. From blood samples to DNA testing to X-rays, she was being subjected to enough examinations to make any health insurance agent run screaming from their cubicle. On the other hand, Stephanie had little worry being considered an insurance risk, being legally dead and all.

That helped things.

"No, seriously. I haven't felt this good about myself in months! I mean, normally if I ran into somebody that thought I was dead, I probably wouldn't like it if the first thing that they did was to order me to take off the majority of my clothes in front of two men old enough to be my grandfather and subject me to every medical examination short of puttin' a hand up my ass. Normally, I would think that person would be a real asshole, you know? Just a morally and socially deprived loser with nothing better to do with their life than persecute the people who genuinely care about them."

Stephanie looked straight at Batman. "You're not gonna try to put a hand up my ass, are you?"

Bruce did not respond.

"But then, I remembered the time when Green Arrow came back to life and the first thing you did was knock him unconscious, drag him to the Batcave, and do the same things to him that you're doing to me! Remember that?"

Yes, Bruce certainly remembered that. He still cringed when he was reminded of the time when Stephanie referred to one of his greatest enemies and the most infamous eco-terrorist of all time as Rasta Ghul.

"So, from what I can figure, in your warped, twisted little charcoal briquette of a heart, your complete absence of joy and emotion at my triumphant return and your bossing me around is your way of saying you missed me! After all, you did the same thing to Mister Queen and you like him! I can see why too. I mean, you're both rich socialites, like to hang around with supermodels, you two are pretty alike."

Alfred Pennyworth had to employ every ounce of his self-restraint and acting ability to refrain from breaking forth in wild laughter. Alan Scott was in similar distress, being virtually certain that he had just heard the harsh, grating sound of the Batman's molars grinding together.

"And you didn't even beat me unconscious! That must mean you like me!" Stephanie put a hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically. "You _really_ like me!"

"SHUT UP!"

Alfred finally gave in and laughed long and hard at the deliciously bizarre display. If there was anything that could have given him more proof that this was the genuine Stephanie Brown, then Alfred couldn't think of it. Alan Scott, demonstrating the professionalism and stoic demeanor that earned him the reputation as one of the most respected heroes in history, merely put a hand to his mouth and chortled quietly.

Stephanie merely smiled. "I missed you too, B."

Bruce grunted and pushed a button, causing the gurney to slide back to its normal position. "Get off the table," he growled.

Still smiling broadly, Stephanie slid off the table, ending with an awkward flourish that caused her long, blonde hair to slide in front of her eyes. With an annoyed huff, she placed it back as she preferred it and marched over to the Batman's side.

"Okay, you've run every test possible to try and prove that I am not me. You even made me step in that weird orange ray because you said that I might be a clone. Personally though, I can't imagine why the hell anyone would want to clone me."

"My sentiments exactly, Miss Stephanie," Alfred said flatly.

Stephanie demonstrated her maturity by sticking her tongue out at the gentleman's gentleman. "Missed you too, Alfie. Don't suppose you have any of those lovely banana nut muffins of yours hanging around the house waiting to be eaten?"

"Not at the moment, Miss Stephanie," Alfred replied, shocking Stephanie by not recoiling from the unflattering nickname she gave him, "although I imagine I can gather some stragglers with a bit of effort." Alfred moved towards the stairway leading to the ground floor of Wayne Manor.

"You're the best, Alfred." Stephanie gave the retreating butler an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"Yes, I have often thought so."

"You may have been placed in a Lazarus Pit," Batman said darkly.

"Isn't that stuff supposed to drive you insane? I don't look insane to you, do I?"

Stephanie literally believed she could hear crickets chirping. Or was that the bats?

"All right, all right, don't answer that. And I haven't been dumped in any of those either."

"Very well, Stephanie," Bruce said as he sat at his chair in front of the mainframe. "You were dead. An infection had invaded your bloodstream and coursed into your cerebral cortex. Your body was tagged, placed in a casket, and buried under the ground. It took me a week to find the strength to so much as put my costume back on again after your funeral and I haven't really been able to look myself in the mirror since I discovered that I could have done something to stop it. Perhaps _you_ could explain why I should believe you are who you claim to be and why you're still alive!"

Stephanie's giddy smile faded in an instant and her blue eyes widened. "Well, um. The thing of it is." Her right hand absently fluttered up to her face and she scratched her cheek. "Batman. . . Mr. Wayne. . . it wasn't your fault. . ."

"Perhaps I can provide an explanation for Stephanie." Alan's steady baritone was a welcome respite from the sudden tension that seemed to permeate throughout the murky gloom of the Batcave. Stephanie turned back to Alan, her face oddly looking both disconcerted and relieved.

"Very well, Mr. Scott. Please explain this to me."

"Bruce, I insist. It's Alan. First of all, let me just say that you shouldn't be too hard on Stephanie. She has been through a great deal in these past six months and the first thing she wanted to do was to return to Gotham. You truly have a remarkable young woman in your employ. A little loud-mouthed, of course, but. . ."

Bruce put up a tired, gloved hand. "Mr. Scott. . . Alan, please. Just tell me."

Alan blew out a breath of air and scuffed his boot against the rock floor of the cave. "Well, Mr. Wayne, if I was to give you the long and short of it, Mrs. Brown is alive because she willed it to be so."

* * *

"All right, I just want to make certain I have all this right."

It was quite obvious that the Black Mask was in a killing mood. The four lieutenants standing in front of the ornate, marble desk of Roman Sionis tried their best not to fret or hedge as their boss looked at each of them in turn. Standing behind the desk, stage left, was Tommy Crenshaw, the Black Mask's "advisor" for lack of a better term, trying not to feel too much pity for them. Then again, seeing as how the anticipated life expectancy of an underboss for the Black Mask was quite similar to that of a Spinal Tap drummer, it was hard to work up any kind of emotion for any of them.

After nearly two decades serving under various luminaries of the Gotham underworld, Crenshaw knew the guidelines of survival backwards and forwards. The most important rule was to lay low. Don't draw attention to yourself. With exaggerated personalities like the Joker, Two-Face, The Batman, and, of course, his current employer, constantly tromping about causing all kinds of hell, the absolute last thing you should do is make yourself noticed. For all you know, you could be infringing on some self-created copyright of aberrant behavior and end up with two bullets in your chest or a face-full of sulfuric acid. If you want to make a good living as a criminal in Gotham, your best hope was to find something inconspicuous that you can be successful at and stick to it.

Equally important is that you own up to your mistakes. Don't beg for forgiveness, since it only gives the psychotics an excuse to deem you useless, which is an unpardonable and harshly punished sin. Also, there's a bonus if you can prove that some of the responsibility behind a failed idea or operation can be placed upon the shoulders of other people that happen to work for your employer.

"Now, it's bad enough that I've got this angry little hit-mouse The Red Hood trying to blow up or steal anything of mine that he can get his hands on." The Black Mask planted his feet, adorned with elegant, leather dress shoes, upon his desk. Save for the smooth, ebony mask covering his heavily scarred face, Roman Sionis was the definition of a fashion plate, a living display of the finest designs that Rome's most prominent clothing lines had to offer from head to toe. "Now I've got somebody busting up my largest narcotics operation on the very day it was going to swing into high gear and twenty of my dealers housed up in Blackgate. Throw in the fact that old man Freeze just got his TV dinner ass handed to him and a smart man would start to think that somebody around here was not doing their job."

Crenshaw ignored the many excuses being thrown about by the minions. The only matter left up in the air now was trying to figure out how many of them would have to be carried out.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am not going to lose everything I've earned because of simple communication problems. I am the king of this town. I took it away from the Batman!"

Crenshaw had to restrain himself from openly scoffing. No matter how many times he bore witness to this phenomenon, it never ceased to amaze him that so many people claimed to "own" this town. From Oswald Cobblepot to Lex Luthor to Rupert Thorne to Harvey Dent (both before and after the acid in the face), they all claimed to have this city by the balls at one time or another. It was as if these people believed Gotham was some kind of substantive possession, rather than the reeking force of nature that it had become after serving as the crime capital of America since the days of Prohibition. The Black Mask may be the king of the mountain now, but Crenshaw knew it was only a matter of time before Sionis took a long fall.

Quite frankly, it amazed him that it hadn't happened already.

"So, the way I see it is that I need to perform some kind of employment rehabilitation. Now, killing all of you would just make a mess of my carpet. Plus, poor Crenshaw would have to take out the time from his already busy schedule to train your replacements. Thus, the obvious solution is to find a middle ground. So, I'm going to kill one of you. That way, the rest of you will be encouraged to do a better job and Tommy and I get some quality entertainment."

The Black Mask slid open a side drawer in his desk and pulled out a long-barreled revolver. "See? I'm all about multitasking. Also, when you grow up as the heir to a fashion empire, you're taught to learn how to maintain professionalism amidst unbearable idiocy. Of course, the only question remaining is who I choose to kill. Let's see here. . ."

"Eenie."

_Bang!_

"Meenie."

_Bang!_

"Miney."

_Bang!_

"Moe."

_Bang!_

Crenshaw tried his best to look surprised at this unexpected level of barbarism.

"Allrighty then," Black Mask said in a positively chipper timbre. "Mr. Crenshaw, is the latest shipment from Lexcorp available for use?"

"Yes, sir. This time I decided to place the goods in four separate locations. Nobody knows about all four spots except the people in this room."

"And something tells me these four fellows won't be spilling the beans. Wonderful!" Sionis placed his still-smoking revolver back in its usual place before rising to his feet, smoothing out the sparse wrinkles from his immaculate sport coat as moved. "Once everything is operational, I'll smash every masked moron in Gotham into a pile of blood and grit."

"Sounds like a plan, sir."

"I would hope so." Leather-covered hands slumped into the pockets of his beige slacks, the Black Mask calmly walked out of the room, taking effort to avoid the crimson puddles on his new designer rug.

"Also, see if you can get this so-called Society on the horn again. You can never have enough back-up plans."

Crenshaw nodded, finally finding something that he agreed with his employer about.

* * *

"Almost six months ago, I received an emergency summons from the Elders Council on Oa. Apparently, an intruder had appeared within the very heart of the planet, an area that is normally reserved for summits of the highest significance for the Green Lantern Corps. That person was young Stephanie."

"That still does not answer my question, Alan." Bruce's long fingers were locked together and his entire body frozen in a pensive gesture.

"Bruce, you have to understand that Oa is rather unique among planets. As the focal point of some of the most powerful forms of magical weaponry in the cosmos, it is as subject to the whims of ethereal elements as our planet is to our rotation around the sun. In fact, many of its people believe that the planet has become a living entity throughout the eons. Stephanie had no clue as to how she had come to Oa and how she was alive once again, and the numerous thorough examinations she endured revealed that she spoke the truth. After a week of interviews, both the elder members of the Corps and the Council had come to accept the same theory."

"Which is?"

Alan sighed before continuing, rubbing his temples as he did so. "We believe that Stephanie is alive because she has something more to do. She did not wish to die, and her protests were heard as far away as Oa. The powers that surrounded the planet responded to her plea and she was summoned there, hale and hearty."

Bruce's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I thought it sounded stupid too when I first heard about it," said Stephanie as she slumped against the cave wall. "Still, I'm not complaining."

"This instance is not without precedent, Batman. It has occurred several times upon Oa throughout the recording of time. However, it is the first time that it has occurred to someone on this planet."

"And my father said that I wasn't anything special," Stephanie mumbled.

"Alan, I was the last person to see her alive. A person who I once considered to be a valued colleague performed the autopsy and I helped bury her. Are you telling me that I should place your ideas over my own."

"Well, B, you just ran all these tests to find out who I was and they all said the same thing. By the way, can I go dig up my own casket sometime? Just call it a very morbid fascination."

Alan cleared his throat. "As I was saying, there are no real links between the organisms that have returned to life upon Oa save for the presence of an indomitable will. The Council was eager to test this theory and subjected Stephanie to rigorous physical and psychological training, exercises that are normally reserved only for the most honored of Lanterns. Although her. . . methods. . . were considered to be unorthodox." Stephanie chuckled at Alan's hesitant description, "She was quite successful, so much so that she was offered a position within the Corps."

This prompted Bruce to abruptly look towards Stephanie, who looked to shrink about a foot from the sudden attention. Recovering, she shrugged her shoulders and continued to attempt to look nonchalant.

"However, she turned it down. She claimed that she already had her place."

"And what _place_ would that be?" Bruce growled as he now stared fully at the young woman. In response, Stephanie kicked off the wall and stretched her arms out to the sides, displaying the Robin costume.

"Well, sheesh Batty. I think that'd be pretty obvious. Batman needs a Robin, you don't have a Robin, so I'm here to be Robin."

With that rather forward statement, the Batman rose from his chair and walked towards Stephanie. To her credit, the young woman did not shirk away from the wintry glare displayed by The Dark Knight. Instead, she appeared to steel herself, her small fists curling into balls.

"Funny. You don't appear to recall when I told you that you were unfit for this."

"Funny. You don't appear to recall that I think you're wrong."

If possible, the Batman's disposition grew even darker. "Suppose I were to believe that you were Stephanie Brown. If I believed everything that Mr. Scott has told me. Can you give me one good reason why I should ever let you be Robin? Why I shouldn't just turn you away?"

With that, Stephanie shied away from Batman's angry stare and appeared to take a great interest in her boots.

"How many people died?"

"What?"

"The little stunt I pulled from your computer. That war game. And for the record, you should probably keep that kinda stuff under better protection. How many people died because I did what I did?"

Bruce's features softened as he took a step back. Truth be told, the exact figures had never been fully determined. After all, the entire city had been thrown into chaos from what the media had dubbed "The Gotham Crime War", the cataclysmic five days that resulted in the death of Stephanie, the destruction of the Clock Tower, and the rise of the Black Mask to the pinnacle of Gotham City crime. However, that was probably not the answer that Stephanie was looking for.

"Nearly a thousand."

Stephanie raised her head slightly, trying to look Bruce in the eyes, but halfway up her head slumped back down. "So all those people are dead because of me. Because I was trying to show you that I was important. That I could do some real good. Now all of this, all this blood is on my hands. And, and, I don't know if I can wash it off but I don't think I can do that on some planet light years away from my home! The only place I can do that is here in Gotham!"

Bruce turned away from Stephanie's impassioned statement, his cape giving off a mighty ruffle. "As far as I am concerned, that just gives me more reason for you to stay as far away from my town as possible."

"BUT IT'S NOT JUST YOUR TOWN, DAMNIT!" Stephanie rushed in front of Bruce, her eyes once again shining with defiance. "It's my town too. This is where I was born. You call yourself this town's protector like you're the only one who gives a damn about it, but there are lots of people that call this place home.

I, I remember when I was five, my mom and I lived in an apartment on the Southside where the old lumberyards used to be. My mom said she hated the place and kept sayin' that she'd move us out as soon as she got some extra money. But I loved it, y'know, 'cause it was the first time we were away from my asshole of a father. We could finally make it on our own.

I remember I used to love the sound the old stairs would make when I jumped on them real hard. Then, when I was seven, the building burned down. My mom never really told me why. I remember seeing all my neighbors crying. Their whole lives were destroyed by a stupid accident."

With a furtive motion, Stephanie ripped off her face mask. "Dammit, dammit. I need to stop rambling like an idiot." Recovering herself, she looked up to Bruce, a pleading look in her eyes. "I know that when I first became Spoiler I thought all of this was a game. I was stupid and careless, but I've worked so hard to be better! I really have! I want to make up for all the bad things I did and I wanna help you because you tried to help me."

Stephanie's azure eyes were brimming with tears. "I, I know I'm not Tim, but I know this is where I belong. I belong at your side, as Robin."

Bruce Wayne, one of the smartest and efficient people on the planet, a man who had outwitted and challenged the authority of gods, did not have the slightest clue what to say. Instead, as Stephanie seemed ready to crumble, he awkwardly placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, a stranger in the strange land of sympathy. Small tears began to roll down Stephanie's cheeks and she hastily brushed them away with her gauntlets as if she didn't want them to be seen.

"Master Bruce, if you will allow me to say something."

Bruce turned towards the stairway, where Alfred stood with a tray of muffins in his hands.

A moment after Stephanie turned towards the butler as well, subduing a tiny sniffle as she did so.

"If you do not allow Miss Stephanie to become Robin, if you send her away from this home, then I shall leave as well."

* * *

The good news for Lloyd was that Victor Fries knew one of the locations that the Black Mask had placed weapons "acquired" from Lexcorp after its liquidation courtesy of Talia Al-Ghul. The bad news was that Victor also knew that Sionis had chosen to place his newfound toys in four different spots. He supposed that he could use his talents to locate the other spots, but the last thing he needed was to go full stop ready to blow up a day care center. That would hardly be the best way to impress the Batman.

That thought irked him. Was he really trying to _impress_ the man now? After their first confrontation, Lloyd was beginning to understand why so many people, men and women of infinitely greater strength, speed, and ability, seemed to be drawn into Batman's sphere of influence. It was one thing for a complete fool who had accomplished nothing to say you didn't know that you were doing, that you weren't as good as you thought you were. However, it was the Batman. A normal man that had bested some of the most horrific criminals and monsters the cosmos had ever known. If anybody knew what they were doing, it was him.

Lloyd rolled his eyes. He was thinking far too much about this. Too much time traveling the streets of Gotham. Hell, he hadn't even had the time to check out if he had BBC America on his television set. Wasn't the second round of the FA cup starting tonight? Bloody buggerin' hell.

All right. All right. Focus on the now. Break into this ever exquisite looking shit-hole, destroy everything with the Lexcorp label on it, go home, and see if he can catch Paul Merton or Tony Slattery on the telly. Life's all about setting your priorities, after all, and the safety of the innocents should hold at least a bit of greater importance over watching _Just a Minute_.

As Lloyd approached the former Ivalti Furniture Warehouse, he couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a great deal of brainwave activity about. Granted, when it came to employees of the Black Mask, Lloyd knew he wasn't dealing with a brain trust, but he noticed a lack of quantity as well as quality. Three people sitting around in the front chatting and one fellow in the back takin' a kip. Every previous installation he had raided had no less than a dozen guards. Why was this place so sparsely populated?

It had taken precious little trouble to remove the guards from the picture. He had approached from the east side of the factory, away from the bright streetlights. The moment one of the guards had spotted him, a blast of telekinesis had hurtled the poor fellow into the steel entrance door. The other two were quick to pull their guns, but a quick teleportation, a stiff left hook, and a lazy roundhouse kick eliminated them. Ten seconds later, Lloyd had awakened the slumbering guard only to place him to a greater degree of unconsciousness.

By the time all this had occurred, it had dawned upon Lloyd why the Black Mask would choose to keep his weaponry so thinly monitored. It was one thing to guard assault rifles, uzis, or rocket launchers. If you take out the guards, then the weapons go to the victor.

"Prepare to die, interloper."

Why guard the weapons if the weapon could fight back?

Lloyd heard the slight whirring of gears before he could see what the mechanisms belonged to. At first glance, the thing looked bloody ridiculous. Long, green striped pants, bulging artificial muscles, and a red skullcap that made Lloyd think that Dr. Ivo had spent too much time watching Doctor Who. Then again, when you have the combined ability of Superman, the Flash, and many other of the Earth's greatest heroes, Amazo didn't have to look intimidating to frighten you.

* * *

Without his trademark cape, cowl, and battle-armor, Bruce Wayne didn't appear to belong in the Batcave. Nevertheless, as he drifted through the various memorabilia and trophies that he had acquired through spending nearly two decades as the Batman, from the immense penny to a collection of trick umbrellas, to a well-secured corridor that featured various newspapers covers featuring Nightwing, he found himself unable to leave. He had originally returned home to get some sleep, but now it was the furthest thing from his mind. As he came to a very familiar glass case, he paused to swipe some forgotten dust from the top of it.

His reveries were interrupted with the sound of footsteps. No longer clad in the Robin costume, Stephanie had ensconced herself within a Gotham University sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans that were far too large for her. Noticing that she had acquired his attention, the young woman smiled hesitantly but continued to approach him.

"Just what on Earth are you wearing?"

Stephanie groaned, taking some considerable effort in pulling up her pants. "Well, excuse me if I didn't bring anything to wear to my funeral. Alfred got this for me from Dick's old room. It was either this or your Oxford suits, and I just can't wear tan. By the way, I won't bother pointing out the irony of my wearing Nightwing's clothing."

"You have my thanks."

Stephanie tilted her head slightly and shrugged her shoulders. She continued to move forward, eventually reaching Bruce's side.

"So this is Jason Todd's old costume?" Stephanie slowly ran her left hand against the glass. "Short shorts and all. How did you ever convince him and Dick to wear those things anyway?"

Bruce's hand joined Stephanie's upon the glass. "Dick had modeled the costume after the uniform he wore in his family's act. When he was a child, he and his family performed in a traveling circus. The circus owner had owed a debt to a mob boss and took violent means to recoup it." Stephanie gasped sharply as she turned to look at Bruce with wide eyes. In response, Bruce turned to meet her gaze. "He's never told me so directly, but I believe the uniform was a tribute to them. I believe Jason thought by wearing them he would carry out his own tradition as well."

Stephanie nodded, taking another look at the costume. "Okay, the short shorts seem decidedly less stupid now. And Jason's back from the dead now too? Yeesh, you've got a bit of a Robin infestation on your hands."

"It would appear so."

Seeing that Bruce had returned to his normal, verbose manner, Stephanie decided to get back to why she came down here in the first place. "Um, I just wanna apologize for goin' all fruity back there." Bruce looked at her with interest as she continued on. "Blabbering on and on about nothing. Heh. It's funny. I actually pre-planned what I was going to say to you. Wrote it out, memorized it, and everything."

"Well, Stephanie. Leave it to you to mess up a perfectly good plan."

"Oh, dear lord, it actually told a joke." Bruce smirked at Stephanie's sarcasm. "And for the record, that plan was absolutely craptactular."

"It was perfectly good, Stephanie."

"Whatever," the young woman barked in typical teenager fashion. She hesitated before speaking up again. "So, um, how is Tim anyway?"

"He's in Bludhaven. Apparently he's trying to start out on his own."

"Bludhaven? Even after Mr. Drake died? Is that even legal?"

"If anyone can produce a convincing false story, it's Tim. Anyway, he's, well, he's with Cassandra."

"Oh!" Stephanie first wore a look of shock. "Oh?" Now it was contemplation. "Oh." Sadness.

Even Bruce knew enough to backpedal. "I'm sorry, Stephanie. I didn't mean to imply anything. . ."

But Stephanie waved a hand to beckon him to stop. "It's okay. I'm good. So much for the idea of opposites attract, huh? Then again, I have been gone for six months, and nothing really says 'I love you' like taking your boyfriend's job." Bruce hummed affirmatively. "So, Batgirl and Tim are off in Bludhaven. What about Nightwing?"

"Bludhaven as well."

"Oracle?"

"Metropolis, according to my last reports."

Stephanie nodded, taking this all in. "Okey doke, looks like it's just the two of us then. Don't worry about things getting too quiet, though." In moments, the rascally grin had reemerged upon the face of the Batman's latest protégé. "I'll just make a lot more noise."

"Well, Robin. It's good that you're sticking to your strengths."

Stephanie gave Bruce a scowl that was not the least bit threatening. "Don't underestimate me, boss man. I'm new and improved. Give me two months and I'll be running this town! Then maybe I'll hit Metropolis and take over that little burg. Yeah, that's right! I'll get Superman. . . and his little dog too!"

As Bruce Wayne walked away from Robin's idiotic rant on his way to sleep, he had to try very hard not to smile.

Post-Chapter Notes

Well, thanks for reading the latest issue. Reviews and feedback are appreciated and I thank everyone who have already done so. Though I may be pretty well-stocked with ideas for where this series is going, I'm always open to the ideas of other people. Maybe there's another character you'd like to see within The Misfits? I'm all about freedom of choice, so long as the choice makes for a good story. Speaking of which, here's a peek at what is to come next Tuesday.

Issue #4 Preview

Well, Stephanie has found a new life working alongside the Caped Crusader and Lloyd has found a hyper-destructive android designed with the purpose of turning him into an unattractive smear on the sidewalk. So who got the better deal? While Lloyd is busy with an abomination that has gone toe-to-toe with the Justice League, Bruce encounters his own problems via a confrontation with the mysterious Mao Tenryu. And where does Stephanie fit into the picture? Find out in the next installment of The Misfits: Two Guys, A Girl, and an Android.


	4. Two Guys, A Girl, and An Android

Issue #4

Two Guys, A Girl, and an Android

"Greetings from Hong Kong, Bruce! Please excuse me for my tardiness, but it's been a busy morning!"

Even before he had taken the streets as Batman, Bruce Wayne recognized the fact that he would never be the strongest or the fastest among the people he fought alongside. However, he also realized that this was not necessarily a bad thing. To be remarkable while casting the appearance of the everyday, or even better, the entirely unimpressive, can often be the true key to victory on the battlefield. This is why he projected the image of Bruce Wayne as the billionaire fop, a man with all the advantages in the world but having no idea on how to employ. The world at large did not view Bruce Wayne as a man whose company had spearheaded some of the most lucrative scientific and technological developments and grants in the last 30 years, but as an unrepentant ladies man and marionette. When people do not label you as a threat, then you can truly become threatening.

It was Mao Tenryu who had taught him that.

Examining the man from a mere physical perspective, Mao would never be recognized as someone who could be feared by both heroes and villains alike. He was a portly fellow with tapering, black hair and thin, beetle-black eyes. To put it in a broader description, he appeared to be no different from the hundreds of thousands of Chinese-born, middle-class immigrants seeking fortune and power upon Hong Kong's fertile metropolitan landscape. Unless you had interacted with him or had been able to hear him speak, it is quite likely that you wouldn't recognize Mao Tenryu as a man capable of the presence of foresight to recognize the prosperous economic future of Hong Kong well before the world's economists had hopped on the bandwagon. In fact, it was Mao Tenryu who had concocted the maneuvers and strategies that had played a strong hand into making Hong Kong what it had become.

Long ago, Mao had chosen to make up what he lacked in stature with his intelligence and astonishing social graces. By his mid-20's, he was regarded in Hong Kong's business circles as an uncanny businessman, a skillful negotiator, and a master of dictating the course of any and all battlefields, whether they be in the corporate world or the military theater. Over the last 45 years, people had been drawn to his wealth of knowledge and skill. Mao had chosen those that he would teach with great care, always making certain to select people of great power, influence, and finances. He became a powerful man by guiding the powerful, using the contacts and resources he had gathered to construct his own sphere of influence. Today, he is regarded as the single most powerful man in Hong Kong, perhaps in all of China. Whenever something had to be found or whenever powerful people had something that needed to be taken care of, Tenryu and his agents were almost always the first place to call.

Over 20 years ago, Bruce Wayne was among one of the few people that had been deemed worthy to sit in the heady shade of Mao Tenryu's tree of knowledge. While Bruce had learned countless maneuvers and counter-maneuvers to any physical threat while consulting the greatest fighters on the planet, it was Mao who had taught him how to strategize on a much grander scale. Mao had taught him the lessons that had made him both hated and respected, the lessons and tricks that he had employed throughout the last two decades that had saved countless lives and drawn the ire of those who had never thought to think the way that he did.

Most importantly to Bruce, Mao had risen to power by valuing potential over adherence to ethical mores. The young man had quickly discovered that despite the many valuable lessons that Mao had taught him and wished to teach him more of, he simply could not go on accepting the help of a man who had such a callous disregard to justice and the law. Mao had accepted his decision with the utmost civility, wishing him the best of luck in his endeavors and making assurances that he would not interfere with his life as the Batman.

Until now.

"So how are things in Gotham City?" Mao asked pleasantly. "I was hoping that you would have cleared up all that Black Mask nonsense by now, but I imagine you'll be able to handle that now with a little help."

"I trust you know what this call is about, Mr. Tenryu."

Mao gave off a small, good-natured grin. "Still ignoring those social graces that Mr. Pennyworth and I had tried so hard to incorporate, I see. I assume you have met young Mr. Thomas. Quite the scrapper, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's quite talented. He's also not wanted here. I lost the desire to accept any of your 'gifts' a long time ago and I believe that you gave your word that you would not offer them anymore."

Mao raised his palms in front of him in a conciliatory gesture that was clearly visible despite the constricted image provided by the video phone programmed into Batman's mainframe computer. "Now, now, Bruce. This is not a gift. Consider it an opportunity for all parties involved to benefit. With Mr. Thomas in Gotham, you receive an invaluable commodity to your war on crime whereas I receive the pleasure in seeing my two finest students working together to make this world a better place."

"The Black Dog is a killer, Mao. He's one of the world's most renowned assassins and he's under your employ!"

Mao folded his stubby arms over his chest while still maintaining his genial nature. "Has he killed anyone since he stepped foot in Gotham? No, he hasn't, and you have my utmost assurances that he will follow your orders and your principles so long as you choose to have him remain in Gotham City."

"There are a lot of people that would consider that statement to be a threat," Batman said menacingly.

"But you are hardly 'most people', my old student."

Feeling the rise in frustration itching at him, Batman stuck to his guns. "He is a killer and I will not have him in my city!"

Despite the aggressive argument, Mao maintained his calm demeanor. "Your city, eh? I believe that there are several millions people in 'your city' that would disagree with you on that matter. And in regards to your personal philosophies, I believe you once held a Mrs. Helena Bertinelli within your employ, a woman who once cut a rather bloody swath through many of Gotham's oldest crime families while seeking revenge for the murder of her family. Tell me, Bruce. Does your hasty rejection of my student have more to do with your own standards or with your rejection of mine?"

To his credit, Bruce did not back down an inch amidst this logic. To his credit, Mao made no effort to gloat over the fact that he had backed the Batman into an ideological corner.

Mao pressed his advantage. "Though you may disagree with my methods, old student, you have never known me to be a liar. I truly have a desire for Mr. Thomas to work alongside you and employing your ideals. He is a young man with incredible power who has the potential for becoming even stronger. However, the young man requires guidance, a source of stability and strength for him to realize what he has at his disposal."

"Then why bring him to me?" the Batman asked flatly. "You're more than capable of doing so."

Mao sighed deeply, bringing up his left hand to rub his creased forehead. "I'm 68 years old, Bruce, and a wise man knows when he's starting to reach his limits. I simply no longer have the capacity to maintain the myriad of responsibilities that I coordinated when I was younger. It is time I started to pass the torch and I wanted to hand this flickering flame to you because I know that you are this young man's best shot at becoming something extraordinary. I recognize the fact that we have our differences, but I have always respected your capabilities and I take great pride in having had some responsibility in molding you into who you have become."

Glowing recommendations from Mao Tenryu were extraordinarily difficult things to come by. So much so that even Bruce could not immediately form a comeback to the elder man's words.

"Very well, Mao. You've given me two reasons as to why you want Lloyd here. Now what's the third?"

The elderly gentleman drew another substantial sigh before responding. "Bruce, as I stated before, I am an old man. When you've had your ear to the ground as long as I have, you learn to anticipate when dark times are ahead. The rumors of the Justice League's mind wipes have begun to spread. The unsavory figures of our world have acquired a banner to rally behind. There are even whisperings of some form of cult or society being created with the intention of uniting the villains of the world into a mighty collective."

"This isn't anything I haven't already heard about, Mao."

"It is not my intention to insult your ability to acquire information, my old student. However, I fear that all of this is may be just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I believe that there is a greater power behind the madness before us. A mighty tide is washing upon our shores and there is no united force for good left standing to prevent it from washing over everyone. In order to survive, I believe that we must do what we can and I believe that Lloyd's presence in Gotham would save a great many lives."

Bruce tapped his fingers over the keys of his console. "That's an interesting theory, Mao. However, do you have any proof to support your claims? Any possible avenue you can employ to uncover just what is beneath your metaphorical iceberg?"

Mao shook his head sadly. "As of now, my beliefs are nothing more than intuition."

-2-

KLANG!

It was the tenth time that Lloyd had landed a solid blow on Amazo. However, it had become quite clear that the only thing that was threatening to break was his knuckles.

Lloyd detested fighting robots. There was no mind to cloud or muddle and they held no fear of death or destruction. More often than not in his line of work, they were nothing more than vulgar creations designed only to carryout the instructions of others. There was no love towards the fight; no artistry or creativity to how they moved, attacked, or defended themselves.

His frustrations were momentarily shushed by the rapid bull-rush of the Herculean machination. It attacked in a flurry, throwing fists and feet and anything else in its arsenal in order to land a solid blow. Thus far, Lloyd had been able to dodge the robot's attacks, his teleportation abilities giving him a distinct advantage in terms of maneuverability. However, Lloyd recognized that the strict confines of the former furniture showroom could very well come back to haunt him.

Amazo fired off another blast of heat vision, the "power" that the android had absorbed from its' many battles with the Man of Steel. Lloyd gnashed his teeth at the sight, frustrated with the severe amount of energy required to maintain his own cellular make-up in order to keep the machine from inheriting any of his own capabilities. Despite his strain though, it was fairly simple for Lloyd to deflect the blast with a force-field and a simple act of teleportation to get behind the android. A swift, double-footed spinning roundhouse kick sent Amazo hurtling through the far wall of the warehouse and splashing into the Gotham harbor.

Lloyd huffed in some needed oxygen as he recollected himself. He realized that the move would only buy him a handful of seconds at the most, but that was time that he could spend determining the proper course of action. One obvious solution would be to simply cut loose, to go after this tinker-toy full stop until it was nothing more than a melting pile of worthless circuitry. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to determine how much power it would take to pull off such a feat. Moreover, the sheer number of apartment buildings and homes surrounding the battleground made that option a gamble he simply couldn't afford to make.

A loud WHOOSH! signaled the return of his adversary, who was not looking the least bit unfit from the proceeding attack. The dance proceeded much as it had before, with Amazo throwing jabs, hooks and roundhouses that had not a ghost of a chance of hitting Lloyd. The Black Dog was equally stymied, with every opportunity for him to go on the offensive leading only to a series of fruitless possibilities and possible hand fractures. Tiring of the repetition, Lloyd took a gamble. Ducking under a nasty right hook, he twisted his body to where he was directly underneath the android and fired a full blast of telekinesis at Amazo.

It moved the android back about a foot, eight inches if you wanted to be a stickler for proper measurements. All motivations to acquiring the proper measurement when Amazo's left fist threatened to shove his rib cage into his esophagus. Amazo followed that up with a right-handed back swipe that sent Lloyd flying. Managing to stop his momentum just before he collided with the brick wall on the other side of the factory, Lloyd turned to his opponent with an angry glare.

All right. That was it. He was tired of playing on even ground. Just as Mao had taught him, if he could not achieve the result he desired from one angle, he would simply change his perspective. As Amazo charged him again, its' balled, left hand raised menacingly, Lloyd fell onto his back. At the moment the android was directly above him, Lloyd fired a highly concentrated beam of energy from his palms. No longer having a center of gravity to keep it grounded, the force caused Amazo to hurtle high up into the sky. While the android soared upward, Lloyd immediately leapt to his feet and reached for a small package strapped to his back.

Within it was a gleaming platinum saber, the dangerously sharp blade no longer than a meter. Grasping the hilt of the weapon in his left hand, Lloyd smiled as he felt a familiar hum of energy resonating through his arm that soon began to course through the rest of his body. He rolled his shoulders, wincing only slightly from the pain in his ribs and chest. Looking up to see Amazo making his descent, Lloyd spun the blade in a lazy circle.

"Right then, mate. The kid gloves? Consider them off."

-3-

Stephanie Brown, the costumed vigilante known as Robin, was tugging at the armor that covered her torso in frustration. Looking to distract herself from her discomfort, she checked the various pouches and compartments within her utility belt, admiring the many devices and tricks that Bruce had liberated from the Waynetech armory. It was funny, the first time she had strapped on the specially-constructed Kevlar gear, she didn't like the way that it scratched against her skin. Of course, now that she had gotten used to that, there was a new discomfort to deal with.

The costume used to her embrace her like a second skin. However, her form had gone through a few changes in the past six months. The costume simply wasn't meant to confine the one-hundred and ten pounds of lean muscle that she had become. It was too tight around the arms and shoulders and too baggy around the lower body and, depressingly enough, the chest. _Of all the things to shrink, **of course** it'd have to be that!_

She decided to shelf her complaints for now. After all, there were far worse things in life to deal with than an uncomfortable uniform and even she knew well enough to know that you shouldn't complain too much during your first day back on the job. She had noticed the friendly-looking Asian fellow on the screen just after she had spotted Batman. Bruce had his mask off, which presumably meant that he was talking to a friend. Of course, if she was to understand from Alfred, there were quite a few unfriendly people that had discovered Bruce's so-called secret identity recently.

Ultimately, her desire to get back to fighting crime override her quandary. "Hey, bossman!" she shouted enthusiastically. "Are you ready for patrol?"

The genial looking man on the screen responded to her before Batman could. "Well! Hello, Miss Brown. I'm pleased to see that my old student decided to place you back in his employ!"

Stephanie openly _eeped_ at the man's knowledge. Did she forget to put her mask on? "How did you know my name?" She rapidly turned to Bruce for support, only to receive nothing. "B, I swear to you I do not know this guy! I've never even heard of him! Oh, shit! Um, I mean. . . Sir, I don't know who you are referring to."

Bruce groaned while the man on the screen laughed heartily. "Please relax, young Stephanie. I assure you that your identity is safe with me. My knowledge about you comes only through reputation. Your exploits on Katina are the stuff of burgeoning legend, my dear."

Now it was Stephanie who displayed frustration while Batman was left to stew from lack of knowledge. "Um, well, thank you very much sir."

The old man could clearly read the distress on Stephanie's face and moved quickly to reassure her. "My apologies, Miss Brown. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mao Tenryu and I had assumed that Bruce was already aware of your work during the past several months. Despite the confusion, your presence alongside my old student does my heart a great deal of good."

Stephanie scratched the back of her head while trying to make heads or tails of the situation that she had suddenly been thrown into. "Well, er, thank you, Mr. Tenryu," she replied, hoping that she remembered to pronounce his name correctly. After all, the man had just introduced himself.

"Yes, yes. With your being there, it gives me another point to aid in my argument of why Mister Thomas should join your little brigade, Mister Wayne."

Stephanie tilted her head slightly. "Who's Mister Thomas?"

Bruce's voice was pure aggravation. "Mao, you come to me telling me about portents of doom and your answer to prevent them from happening is by presenting me with a cold-blooded killer!"

"Portents of doom? What portents of doom?"

"I reiterate that Lloyd is not a cold-blooded killer. However, I fear that without a strong, firm hand to guide him, he may very well become one."

"Who's the Black Dog?"

"I have had my _fill_ of people pretending to be my allies and colleagues interfering with my life! With my mind!"

"Who's messing with your mind, boss?"

"I am not the Justice League, Bruce! I am a man who has always had the utmost interest in your well-being and safety! If this gesture can aid you in helping solve the problems that the both of us are facing, then so much the better!"

"What did the Justice League do?"

"You never cared for my well-being, Mao! I was nothing more than another name in your dossier of accomplishments, just another puppet for you to control in order to get a bigger piece of the pie!"

"GOD DAMMIT! SOMEBODY ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!"

Bruce and Mao both turned to look at Stephanie after her outburst. "Sorry about that. It's just that you guys were getting louder so I figured I should get louder too."

Mao chuckled while Bruce continued to wonder what to make of the young woman he had taken under his wing. "You have a very curious partner there, Batman," Mao pointed out. "I imagine she'll do you a world of good."

Bruce sighed and turned back towards the screen. "Either that, or she'll drive me insane."

"You mean you're not insane already?" Stephanie chimed in, causing Bruce to give her a scathing look while Mao laughed loudly. "Okay. Okay. I'm shutting up now."

While Mao worked to restrain his amusement, Bruce cleared his throat. "Mao, I apologize for my outburst and I will take your offer under advisement. Nothing more."

Mao appeared to be quite in favor of his old student's decision. "Well, I suppose that is all I could ask for. Bruce, you have my thanks. Miss Brown, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If either of you need anything, you are more than welcome to call."

"Trust me," Bruce replied before Stephanie could speak up, "you've done enough." Bruce cut the transmission and rose from his chair, slipping his mask on as he stretched upwards. "You're not much of a believer in the concept of privacy, are you Stephanie?"

"Sorry about that. Just a question, though. Am I supposed to like that guy or hate him?"

Batman motioned Robin to follow him towards the underground garage. "The jury is still out on that."

"All right, then." Stephanie slapped her hands together, clearly pleased with the prospect of hitting the mean streets of Gotham. "First official day back on the beat! So what's on the agenda? Busting up a drug ring? Keeping an eye on your old partner gone rogue? Protecting the good citizens of Gotham from the filth and scum of our city's despotic underbelly? Saving those good citizens hundreds of dollars on their car insurance?"

"We're going to speak with the Black Dog."

"That Lloyd Thomas guy? So he's in town already?"

"Indeed he is," Batman replied. "On the way there, perhaps you could tell me just what exactly you were doing in the Rann system and why it was noteworthy enough to be brought to Mao's attention."

Stephanie cringed, having hoped against hope that the little factoid Mao had dropped would have slipped the attention of the world's greatest detective. "Can I tell you after we get back from patrol? It's kind of a long story."

If Stephanie didn't know any better, she could have sworn that she saw Batman smirk as he proceeded towards the Batmobile.

-4-

As Amazo neared ground level, Lloyd countered by teleporting into the air a good mile above his charging opponent. As expected, it didn't take long at all for Amazo to recognize what he had done and was soon hurtling through the skies, continuing to give chase.

Cutting the distance between the two of them to a mere hundred meters, the android fired another blast of heat vision from its eyes. Lloyd blithely deflected the blast with his blade, continuing to wait patiently for the robot's eventual choice to bring the fight to closer quarters. As it did so, there was no doubt as to which of the combatants had the advantage. Moving with a grace and fluidity that no robot could truly managed, Lloyd dodged each and every punch and kick, his wily grin intensifying with each miss.

The young man finally found his opportunity to strike back as Amazo followed a string of straight right jabs with a left cross that rocketed towards Lloyd's jaw at a rate of speed that would make any prizefighter quiver in their boots. However, the fist would not find purchase on fist and bone, but would instead intersect with a lash of Lloyd's blade. While Amazo reeled, Lloyd fired a blast to destroy the now-decapitated right arm before it could hit the ground and endanger the safety of others. Knowing he now had the advantage and not the least bit afraid to point it out, Lloyd turned back towards his opponent.

"Hmm. Metal versus metal and magic. Want to take any guess at who wins that little scrap, Sprocket?"

The android roared in response and attacked him with a renewed fury. The attacks were faster but no more accurate than the assaults that Lloyd had already been dodging with ease. Recognizing that new tactics were in order, Amazo chose to deploy a blast of liquid nitrogen, its' robotic substitute for Superman's freezing breath. Lloyd easily swerved beneath the torrent, countering by forming his hands into a triangular formation and firing off another wave of energy. Unlike the tightly packed display of kinetic energy from before, this one was nothing more than a blinding flash. Although Amazo did not possess actual eyes that Lloyd could blind, the pulse annihilated the robot's optic sensors, temporarily blinding the robot as its' internal systems worked to recover from the damage.

By now, the battle was all but decided, but Lloyd had wanted to end it in style. He moved towards Amazo in a blurring rush, coming within a few feet of Amazo before teleporting once again. Now thoroughly disoriented, Amazo swung a turning backhand in anticipation of a rear attack. By the time the punch was thrown, Lloyd had once again teleported in front of Amazo, With a roar, he rammed his blade into the left side of the android's gut.

Lloyd's soft, hazel eyes were now a smoky gray as he mightily pulled upward, his blade effortlessly tearing through circuitry until it had emerged from the top of the android's head. Wrapping his right fist around his left, Lloyd brought the hilt of his blade to the left side of his waist before spinning and slicing at Amazo once again. This time, the blade met the android's waist, resulting in a loud _schripp_ that resounded through the night air as Amazo was cut in two.

Lloyd watched calmly as the bisected android plummeted harmlessly into the western shallows of the Atlantic Ocean. Smiling as the metal crashed into the water, Lloyd returned the still-shining saber into its home of cloth.

"Well, Amazo. Don't know about you mate, but I've got other places to be. We'll call it a draw."

When Lloyd returned to solid ground, he couldn't help but notice that somebody was cheering for him with loud clapping and whistles. The source of the cheers was a young, blonde haired woman wearing an outfit that he would have considered to be a damn fine suit of battle armor had it not been colored green, red, and yellow. All fashion foibles aside, she was a cute little thing; a little too short and scrawny for his personal tastes, but the chit certainly seemed to take good care of herself. She had a very schmanzy-looking set of binoculars in her right hand and a toothy grin on her face.

However, it wasn't the young lady that had truly drawn his attention, but the man that stood beside her.

"Tell me, Wayne. Do you always just sit and watch other people do the fighting or is this just a more recent change in strategy?"

The girl quickly shifted her attention from Lloyd to Batman to Lloyd and back to Batman again. "Sheesh, B! Does _everybody_ know who's under that mask now?" The Batman growled and Lloyd's respect for the girl skyrocketed. She was walking towards him now, tossing her hair back and smiling as she did so. "And for the record, the only reason we were watching was because our zip lines don't go that high. Besides, it's not like you were having a great deal of trouble." She extended her hand amiably as she came within two feet of him. "The name's Stephanie Brown."

Batman's frown deepened. "Excellent job maintaining your secret identity, Robin."

Lloyd shook the hand warmly, edging closer to Stephanie as he did so. "Name's Lloyd Thomas. By the way, is he always like this?"

Stephanie twisted her neck in order to join Lloyd in looking at Batman. "Actually, no." she replied. "This is one of his chattier days. Normally, he's trying to go for that whole brooding, silent, 'be frightened of me' persona. Don't know about you, but I think the moment he starts to crack jokes is when he becomes _really_ scary."

"Agreed," Lloyd replied as he gave Stephanie another once-over. "You supposed to be Robin? I was expectin' somethin' different. Sort of somethin' along the lines of like Bruce's mini-me."

Stephanie snorted in a matter not at all befitting a young woman. "Oh, man! You have no idea. You should have seen the first three Robins. They all look exactly alike! I thought I'd have to dye my hair and get a sex change before he'd accept me."

Lloyd nodded slowly. "Sooooo, is insanity a prerequisite to becoming Robin?"

"Oh, yeah. We're a group therapy session just waitin' to happen. I mean, the first one's still pretty cool, but he's got major-league father issues. You know, havin' a whole big complex of trying to separate himself from B while acting _exactly_ like him. The second one just came back from the dead and has gone all nutzo and is trying to kill everybody and I dated the third Robin until I died and he ran off to Bludhaven with my best friend."

"Your best friend a guy or a girl?"

"Girl."

Lloyd gave Stephanie a sympathetic smile. "Bloody hell. Sorry, luv."

Stephanie waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, they're a cute couple. Granted, I don't see a great many current events chats goin' on between them, but they're both anti-social and love to beat things up."

"Match made in heaven, then."

"Yep. It's the stuff that Hallmark cards are made for." Lloyd sniggered as Stephanie continued talking. "Damn, I can't tell you how nice it is to have somebody closer to my age joinin' up! I was _not_ looking forward to trying to make small talk with Alfred. How old are you anyway?"

"Just turned 18. You?"

"Sixteen," Stephanie replied. "Good. This is good. You can be the studly older brother that I never had and my mother never wanted."

_HONK!_

The harsh blast of the Batmobile's horn brought an abrupt end to Lloyd and Stephanie's conversation. The two youngsters turned to see Batman standing by the car, the look on his face a clear implication that he was quite ready and willing to run the both of them over. Sharing a look, the two of them walked towards the vehicle.

"The Black Mask was usin' this old factory to stockpile some of the goodies he snatched from Lexcorp." Lloyd explained. "He's also got three more armories scattered 'round Gotham an' I think that whatever's in there is just as bad as what was in this one."

Batman nodded. The gesture was not entirely one of approval, but at least he had chosen to acknowledge Lloyd's work. "I'm already aware of the locations of the other armories. I've informed Mao that I will take your being here under consideration. Robin and I will take care of the other armories."

Lloyd shrugged. "Well, 's not exactly how I would do things, but that's fine. You can deal with the armories while I go take down Sionis."

Batman was not remotely ready to brook any dissent. "Mister Thomas, I had to jam over half of the frequencies on the GCPD scanner in order to buy us enough time to have this conversation. If you're going to be working in my town, and may I remind you that is a big if, you're going to have to work with subtlety."

"Well, boss. I was tryin' to work with subtlety, but Robbie the Robot was about to break every bone in my body so I had to do a bit of actin' out."

"Mao Tenryu sent you to me to instruct you on how to fight the good fight. If you are unwilling to listen to my instructions, then I will have to assume that you are dishonoring his wishes."

"Mate, you know as well as I do that Mao teaches us to strike when you know you have the advantage. Now, we may have this bloke Sionis on his heels now, but if what he's got stashed in the other armories is as dangerous as what was in this one, then we're not gonna have the advantage for long. We need to strike while the iron is hot."

"Strike while the iron is hot? Just what the hell does that saying mean, anyway?"

Bruce and Lloyd both glared at Stephanie. She merely smiled at the both of them in return.

"Look, Batman. I'm goin' after him. He's holed up at the Pemberton office complex on Main with about fifty armed guards. Now that's more than enough baddies to go around for the three of us, but I'm more than capable of doin' it on my own."

"I can't allow you to do that, Black Dog."

Lloyd rolled his eyes in response to Batman's threat. "Fine, feel free to stop me."

The Black Dog teleported away, leaving Batman to gloomily stare at absolutely nothing. After about five seconds of this, Stephanie clucked her tongue.

"Good job stoppin' him, B."


	5. Three Heads are Better than One

Issue #5

Three Heads are Better than One

"Tommy, you're going to have to excuse me for being a bit cranky but I have had a phenomenally bad week!" Even under the confines of the sleek black cowl, Tommy Crenshaw could see the agitation etched on his boss's face. "First that obnoxious little monkey in the stupid red helmet blows up three of my safe houses. Next, we've got Batman and his little junior partner totalling one of my security measures that I so judiciously liberated from Lexcorp. My drug operation gets set back for two months, Fries gets put in Arkham, and now I find out that _yet another_ Amazo just got fragged and we can't even find out who did it!" The Black Mask growled as he grasped the contours of his mask with his right hand. "Oh, and by the way, I'd like to have a chat with Professor Morrow because right now I am seriously displeased with his products!"

A small part of Crenshaw seemed compelled to point out that the concept of customer dissatisfaction didn't really apply when it came to stolen goods. However, he naturally chose to keep this comment to himself. Lord knows he was in enough risk of being indiscriminately killed as it was.

Of course, Black Mask paid no attention to his second-in-command's conundrum, choosing instead to continue to rage incessantly. "What about the Society? They gonna give me a hand with the Bat or what!"

Crenshaw took some time to clear his throat, well aware of the fact that the answer was news that was hardly going to be taken well. "Sir, I spoke with Mister Slade Wilson this morning. He said that the Society refuses to lend us any aid."

"WHAT! WHY?"

"Apparently Lex Luthor is part of the Society's leadership council, sir."

Even in the throes of his raging dementia, the Black Mask just had to stop to admire the irony of the situation. "Well, son of a bitch." Sionis stalked over to his desk. "Wait a minute. Didn't you tell me that you spoke to Talia Al-Ghul when the Society first came around?"

Crenshaw nodded but said nothing. Yet another survival rule: so long as they are intelligent to do so, let your insane boss come up with the obvious conclusion.

Sionis nodded slowly, starting to put the pieces together. "But she was the one that ousted Luthor from Lexcorp in the first place. Why doesn't he have her head on a platter?" Another pause. Another opportunity taken to think it through. "So, either Luthor has an incredibly warped sense of payback, and there's nothing wrong with that, mind you, or he's setting me up for a fall."

"I had come to a similar conclusion, sir."

Sionis firmly slammed his hands onto his desk, chuckling bitterly at his predicament. "Okay, first you mean to tell me that after I allow these people to set up shop in my town, after I am courteous enough to offer Gotham City to serve as their base of operations, the moment that I get into a bit of a rough patch they turn their backs on me! I'm nothing but a distraction for those high-and-mighty fools! Somebody to keep the winged mouse busy while they get prepared for whatever the hell they're gonna do!"

Crenshaw once again remained silent. Another small part of his mind began to ponder the possibility of joining the Society after all this was over. From what he could gather during his conversation with Slade Wilson, he had presumed that they were looking for people who knew their way around Gotham City.

Black Mask's nodding became more fervent, his jaw clearly clenched with fury and his body quivering. "The contents of the other three armories; are they all available for use?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine then. Do it. Release it all. If these good-for-nothing Society bastards don't think enough of me to throw water on me when I'm on fire, then I'll make it so Gotham isn't good enough for them either! It's time to bring Gotham back down into the dirt where it belongs! We've got all these restorations and public works projects trying to pretend that this town isn't a freak of nature! Well, then I say we raze the town down and cause a heaving helping of death and dismemberment. Let's see if they'll remember it then!"

Despite being someone who had believed that he had seen it all, Crenshaw couldn't help but become frightened of the possibility, a plan that was the product of fury and utter, raging insanity. If Sionis was successful in what he wanted to do it would lead to a death toll in the thousands, maybe millions if the capes and their ilk were slow to respond. Worst of all, the ones that would die would be innocent people that had absolutely nothing to do with Smilex gas, psychotically prepared riddles, or anything the least bit criminal. However, as Tommy Crenshaw contemplated the thought of trying to keep it from happening, to work up the strength and decency to do what he could to protect other people, a single thought stood above the rest.

Of all the people that were going to die, odds are that he wouldn't be one of them.

"I'll contact the armories now."

The Black Mask nodded, delighted at the vision of pain running through his mind. "Good man, Tommy. I knew there had to be a reason I liked you."

_BLAM!_

The sound was something between a shotgun and a cannon, the sheer volume startling both men. The astonishingly loud blast was soon followed by another, equally loud boom. As the Black Mask raced to the balcony of his penthouse suite to discover the source of the noise, he glared at Crenshaw.

"Is there a reason you haven't called for back-up yet?"

Crenshaw rushed towards the phone.

As Black Mask looked down from his metaphorical throne, he came upon a very odd sight, even under his diluted perspective. Somebody was standing in the middle of the road in front of the Pemberton. In one hand, the man was carrying what appeared to be a sawn-off shotgun. In the other, a loudspeaker.

The black-haired young man spoke in a ridiculously British bellow. "BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"

_BLAM! _Lloyd made certain to place the barrel of the shotgun just above the loud speaker, providing maximum amplification and irritation.

"BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"

_BLAM!_

"BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"

_BLAM!_

Sionis couldn't help but gape at the bizarre scene before him. As he was doing this, one of his bodyguards burst into the office looking understandably concerned.

"Sir, there's some psycho at the front of the building!"

The Black Mask slowly turned towards the messenger, debating whether or not he should kill the messenger just on general principle.

"No shit," he replied.

* * *

As far as potential plans of attack are concerned, walking in front of the opponent's base carrying a shotgun and a loudspeaker was probably not the best option that Lloyd could have come up with. Nevertheless, it was the one that Lloyd had thought of and he decided that he might as well roll with it.

Besides, he always wanted to try something like this.

"Oi, Sionis!" he yelled. "On second thought, I just thought of a better idea! Instead of bringing out your dead, how about you come out alive and surrender. That way the town'll save a bit on property damage and the people daft enough to listen to you 'll save some dosh on their medical bills!"

Lloyd fired another shot into the air just because he had the extra ammunition. He figured he had three minutes, five at most, before the G.C.P.D. came roaring in with guns blazing. Not wanting to have any dead blue boys on his conscience, Lloyd quickly chose to proceed to step two. Focusing upon the top of Pemberton Tower, he channeled a portion of his energy and teleported. He was at the top floor suite within the blink of an eye, his sudden appearance startling a rather weedy-looking fellow that appeared to be talking on the telephone.

Two men at the door drew their guns, a gesture that earned them a harsh toss into the hallway courtesy of his telekinesis. Shortly after watching the two gunmen crash into the wall, Lloyd turned his attention back to his shrouded quarry.

"You know, there are more efficient ways to contact me." The Black Mask crossed his long arms across his chest, the picture of brazen cockiness. "I don't suppose you could try telephone or e-mail."

"Well, hood boy, from what I've heard the vigilante types in this town have a yen for dramatic entrances. Besides, I only just got set up in me new place so I haven't had the time to set up my things or look for luxuries. Truth be told, I've mostly been spendin' my free time bustin' up parts of your operation."

"So I've noticed. So you just moved to Gotham? Where are you shackin' up?"

"One of those old lofts just off the corner of Covington and Byhalia."

"Covington and Byhalia. Huh, isn't that where they had that big fire about a month back?"

"Uh, no. 'S about two blocks west from where I'm at. It's still a bloody mess, though. Our super's been put in charge goin' round the neighborhood getting supplies out to the people that had to relocate. You know, like toiletries, groceries, ponyin' up for lodging money, shite like that."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. So where were you before then?"

"Hong Kong, actually."

"Hong Kong! Oh, I haven't been there in ages!"

"'S a beautiful place."

"Oh yes, it is. Last time I was there, I was, um, fifteen I believe. My late mother had pestered my father into taking me with him on one of his scurrilous business trips. Apparently she wanted the two of us to bond or some other mindless tripe. After a while though, my dad got bored with me and got me a hooker to keep me busy. Sweet girl. Smelled like lemons. Had the most beautiful voice too. Man, you should have heard her scream when I was bleeding her. Sounded like a goddamn symphony."

"Mm. Good of you to keep the fond memories close to you."

"Absolutely. The good memories are what keep us going." Lloyd nodded in agreement of Sionis' opinion. Black Mask continued speaking plainly. "I'm presuming you're carrying along this inane little conversation because you're waiting for the pathetic people of the Gotham City Police Department?"

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah. Can't rightly figure out the reason you're stallin' though. To be honest, I could have read your mind to find out but I figured I'd give you a sporting chance."

"Really? Well, that's nice of you." Sionis placed his hands inside the pockets of his dress slacks. "Well, honestly, I'm just waiting for your executioners."

"Izzat right? Well, seein' as how I just trashed your little tinker-toy Amazo and that was obviously your ace in the hole, I'm findin' it hard to believe that you've got anything else that can stop me."

Sionis shrugged his shoulders. "Fine by me."

The whip-crack _whoosh_ of air and the crashing of broken glass were Lloyd's only warnings. He ducked to avoid a broken neck, but the dodge left him wide open as he felt a searing pain in his lower back. Hissing from the pain, he fired a blind shot targeted solely by instinct. The satisfaction of hearing a grunt of pain from his second attacker was immediately blunted by a kick to the gut that threatened to knock far more out of him than just wind.

By the time Lloyd had begun to recover, he felt four sturdy hands grab him harshly by the shoulders and force him back up to his feet. He looked blearily at Sionis, who appeared to be quite amused with the turn of events that had taken place. Lloyd quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere, thoroughly sickened with how easily he had been duped. He twisted his neck to look behind him, trying to find out who had attacked him.

However, they weren't whos. They were whats. Three familiar looking whats at that.

Black Mask leaned in to look at Lloyd eye-to-eye. "Young man, you're saying you're not satisfied with merely one Amazo? Well then, you can have these other three for free! And once they're done with you, I'm going to use my new toys to rend Gotham asunder. And would you like to know why? Because I'm tired of people not understanding the simple concept that this town is MINE! Not Batman's, not yours, not the Society's, MINE! And, well, if this pretty little city can't accept that fact than I'll just have to cut it up until it screams for me, just like that little whore in Hong Kong."

Sionis turned to Crenshaw, who remained stock-still at the desk. The telephone still hung limply in his frozen right hand. "Tommy! Send out a warning to all points. Get everybody here on the double. If this smart-mouthed dope is here, other masks are sure to follow. As for our little intruder here, well, I'll just leave it up to my Atari-brained associates here. I want the three of you to dispatch him in a wonderfully messy manner and leave him on the front steps for all to see. Personally, I've always been a fan of cutting a hole in someone's gut and watching their intestines fall out."

"As you command, sir," replied one of the androids.

Before the androids left the suite, Sionis reminded himself of one last little point. "Oh, and by the way, stranger. If you decide to try and get away from this little fight by, oh, I don't know, doing that little teleporting trick you just tried. Well, then I'm going to be frustrated. So frustrated in fact that I think I might just take it out on everyone around me. Understand? All right? Toodle-doo!" As the androids proceeded to ground level to carry out their instructor's command, the Black Mask smiled.

"See, you _can_ find good help these days!"

* * *

_The Batman was going to kill him for this. Well, either that, or these guys would_.

Lloyd was still sporting a slight headache from the toll and strain he had endured in defeating just one Amazo only ten minutes ago. The kick the third Amazo had given him had cracked at least three ribs that would require at least a couple minutes to heal. Given these muscular martinets, however, Lloyd couldn't really see a comfort break in his future. Additionally, short of either letting loose a blast that would annihilate all of Gotham City and everything else within a 5-mile radius or simply abandoning thousands upon thousands of people to genocide, Lloyd couldn't honestly see a way to get out of his situation either.

Of course, it wasn't as if he hadn't faced such impossible odds before.

Twisting his neck harshly, Lloyd fired a blinding blast of light from his eyes. Much as it had done to their predecessor, the androids staggered from the intensity of the solar flare. Hoping to even the odds, Lloyd opted to employ physics instead of brute force, bending down and connecting with a sweep kick on one of the androids behind him. The moment the robot had been taken off its' feet, Lloyd used his telekinesis to send it several miles into the air. As the first android breached the Earth's ionosphere, Lloyd yanked his saber from his scabbard and lashed out at a second android, resulting in a deep gash across its torso and a shower of sparks that pelted Lloyd's face. The momentary distraction left Lloyd open to a blast of heat vision from the third Amazo that sent him hurtling into a parked Lincoln Continental. The crash resulted in another lance of pain for Lloyd and a dent in the classic car that would be awfully difficult to explain to a claims adjustor.

All in all, the entire flurry took about a half of a second. At least Lloyd found the sound of the Continental's alarm to be a nice source of gallows humor.

Unwilling to give up on his exceedingly dim scenario, Lloyd took to the fight once again. Teleporting behind one of the androids, he charged with his saber once again with an underhand lash. The saber struck home right between the android's shoulder and shoulder blade, cleanly severing the machine's right arm. Lloyd teleported once again, hoping for similar results, but one of the androids saw him coming and headed straight for him. Using the creation's own momentum against itself, Lloyd ducked under the attack and wrapped his hands around the android's impossibly-thick forearm. With a mighty heave, he threw the Amazo into the much-maligned Lincoln Continental with so much force that both it and the android tumbled wildly down the street for a good 30 feet. Despite the good showing, however, the numbers once again became too much to handle and a blast of freeze breath from the third android allowed the other Amazos to recover and gang-tackle Lloyd to the pavement.

Although Lloyd had managed to escape that predicament by teleporting once again, the rest of the battle remained quite one-sided. The moment Lloyd had gained an advantage upon one of his adversaries would be the same moment that he would leave himself open to an attack from his lightning-fast aggressors. Every dodge and attack he tried or endured brought about a greater strain upon his dwindling reserves. After five minutes of punishment, Lloyd was down and out of options. His telekinesis was dampened by the combined absorbing abilities of the three Amazos, every single attempt of a teleportation attack was blunted, and his blade had been ignobly flung away in irritation after the androids had seized it from him and failed in their attempts to break it.

Hacking up what appeared to be a rather ungainly amount of blood, all Lloyd could focus on was his own stupidity and carelessness. _Maybe this was why Mao had abandoned him, leaving him in the hands a social eunuch who got his kicks by dressing up in Kevlar knickers. All the power in the world and what had he done with it? He couldn't be the fighter that Mao wanted him to be. He couldn't even cut the mustard as a protector of Gotham._

_Hell, he couldn't even save his mum_.

As two of the Amazos forced him to his feet, Lloyd stared at the empty, glaring red eyes of the third android standing a mere ten feet away. Lloyd wasn't entirely certain if he had the strength to block or endure a blast of heat vision from this range.

Fortunately, he didn't have to find out.

A homing missile collided into the back of his prescribed executioner, the velocity of the ballistics and the ensuing explosion causing it to fly through the air. As the other two machines ducked to avoid their airborne brethren, Lloyd managed to wiggle free and let loose another blinding flare from his palms. As the two robots writhed, he teleported towards the source of the saving shot.

The bay doors of the Batmobile popped open and Batman and Robin leapt from the speeding car. The abandoned vehicle collided with one of the blinded androids, sending the Amazo flying at the cost of totaling the entire front half of the vehicle. Lloyd cupped his palms and fired another burst of energy at the third Amazo, allowing it to join in the android aerial festivities.

Watching a trickle of blood leak down his left arm, Lloyd wearily turned to the Batman. "Figured you wouldn't make it to my party, Wayne. Can't say as I blame you, though. 'S a bleedin' disaster."

"Are you all right?" Batman asked.

Lloyd was momentarily shocked by the man's show of concern. "Yeah, yeah. I still got somethin' in me. Thanks for the save."

"You're welcome." Robin replied. "Personally you don't look too good to me," she added while laying a hand on Lloyd's separated shoulder. "In fact, you look like hell warmed over served with bacon and a side order of wheat toast."

"Piss off pet," Lloyd said with a hint of a roguish grin.

"Those attacks won't keep something as durable as Amazo down for long." Batman's voice held a distinct aura of authority, making it a clarion call to action. "Robin, see to the bystanders. Try and evacuate as many people as you can."

"Sure thing, boss," Stephanie replied as she rushed off.

"We got any more help comin'?" asked Lloyd.

"All communiqués to the Watchtower have been disconnected, the JSA are on assignment, and Superman is nowhere to be found. For all intents and purposes, we're on our own. I know it's not the best of situations but somebody didn't give me a great deal of time to prepare."

Lloyd sighed, willing to accept the not-so-subtle dig. "Well, don't want to make things too easy on ourselves, do we? That takes the challenge out of life." He reached for a small sidearm slung onto his right hip. Turning the gun on its' side, Lloyd pressed a button lying just below the holster. The pistol hummed in response, making it quite apparent that this was hardly a standard-day firearm. Lloyd tossed the gun to Batman, who caught it deftly.

"What is this?" Batman asked.

"Miniaturized pulse cannon; compliments of Lexcorp and the wonderful weapon smiths of the planet Rann. Something tells me you're gonna need more than a batarang to put a dent in these things."

Batman noticed the three androids rising up once again while he examined the weapon. "Why haven't you been using it?"

"I've been too busy getting nearly killed."

The Batman nodded gravely. "We're going to have to work on that habit."

As strange as it seems, that comment caused Lloyd to genuinely smile for the first time since he had set foot in Gotham. "First things first, boss." Lloyd replied.

"Indeed. Do you have a weapon?"

In response, Lloyd's platinum saber flew through the air and straight into his hand.

"Yeah. I'm good. Find some good cover, dark knight."

"Do you know what to do?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

* * *

As far as crime-fighting duos were concerned, you could stand to do a lot worse than Batman and the Black Dog. Somewhat rejuvenated by the arrival of reinforcements, Lloyd harried the androids with strikes of phenomenal speed and precision, moving about the battlefield as crisply as Rooney on the pitch. The Batman's assaults were equally efficient. Each shot aimed for the knees, the back, the neck; attacks that screamed of finding any opportunity to debilitate or further stall his adversaries from attacking his more dangerous companion. Likewise, when the machines set their sights upon Batman, Lloyd would perform some energy-fueled feat, be it a blinding flare or a forcefield, that would slow them down long enough for Batman to find another vantage point.

It took less than a minute to defeat the first Amazo. As Lloyd used his telekinesis to ram one airborne android into another, the third attempted to strike him from behind only to be blasted in the upper back by another of Batman's well-timed shots. As the machine stumbled forward, lost in its own momentum, Lloyd swung mightily with his saber, neatly slicing off the machine's head. A cascade of sparks and circuitry was Lloyd's reward as the useless remains plummeted to the asphalt.

Seeing the destruction of their partner, the other two Amazos went after Batman at a dead run. As fast as they were, however, Lloyd got to him first, teleporting in front of the Amazos and cutting off their path. As the Amazos stopped to combat him, Lloyd teleported away again, thus leaving his opponents wide open for another attack from Batman. The blast from the pulse cannon hit one of the androids in the kneecap, causing it to slump down onto one knee. A shot to the other knee caused the Amazo to fall face first to the ground. As the debilitated machine attempted to rise up and take to the sky to escape, Lloyd was there to meet it with a vicious downward slash, cleaving the machine in two.

The last remaining Amazo once again moved to strike Batman. The tired, yet ever-persistent Lloyd interrupted its intentions, zipping in front of it and striking with a spinning, horizontal lash that only grazed the android's chest. Still, the damage had motivated the machine to fly higher into the air. Motivated by the knowledge that they had gained the upper hand, Lloyd was quick to give chase, eventually forcing the android back to the ground. As he did so, he could hear Batman's voice ring out over the dim.

"Lloyd! Forcefield, now!"

Lloyd turned back to Batman, momentarily frustrated by the interruption. "What you think I am, a bleedin' Pokemon?" he asked. While he did so, a batarang whizzed by his head, the projectile lodging itself within the gash that Lloyd had made in the android's chest. As both Lloyd and Amazo looked down to examine the seemingly pointless projectile, Lloyd gasped as he noticed two objects strapped to the batarang. The first was one of the rounds from the pulse cannon. The second was a small, but very dangerous looking amount of C4 explosive.

"BUGGER!"

Lloyd's forcefield served two purposes. It protected the people of Gotham from the ensuing titanic blast and it prevented the last Amazo from escaping. The sole purpose of the explosive was to trigger the full potency of the pulse cannon round. As the combined explosions roiled within the barrier, the already damaged android was pounded with hundreds of tons of concussive force. When the figurative dust settled, it was quite clear that although the machine had not been completely destroyed by the blast, it was certainly in no condition to continue fighting.

Lloyd turned to Batman in disbelief, now quite exhausted. "How about a little warnin' 'fore you go an' try something like that!"

The Batman smirked. "I knew you would respond quickly enough. Besides, Mister Thomas, you're a telepath. You need to learn to take advantage of your capabilities rather than avoid using them in lieu of giving your opponent a second chance. You've got a great deal to learn about proper strategy and that," he put two gloved fingers together and tapped his left temple. "is _my _territory."

Lloyd gave off a derisive snort. "Your pet bird is right. You are scarier when you're trying to be funny. Speaking o' which, where is that little blonde bint anyway?"

Batman tapped his communicator located within his cowl. "Robin, come in. Robin!" He looked to and fro in frustration. "Damnit, she's not responding. Where in the hell is she? I told her to look after any possible bystanders."

Lloyd turned to Bruce with a wry grin. "Well, I'm not sure if it's what ya meant in terms of bystanders, but looks like she decided to see if Sionis needed lookin' after."

The Batman gnashed his teeth, hardly in the mood for Lloyd's bemusement. "Where is she?"

"Can't be too precise in my current condition, but I think I'm picking her up on the top floors. I can get you there. . ."

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of gunfire and shouting. Armed guards were now pouring out of The Pemberton, dozens in number. A simple forcefield protected the both of them from the gunfire.

"I can make my own way up there." Batman announced. "Can you handle the rest?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got this."

With that confirmation, Batman fired a grappling line that embedded itself into one of the outcroppings on the building's upper floors. The moment the line became stable, Batman hurtled into the air, retracting his end of the line.

Lloyd watched him for a moment, allowing the forcefield to harmlessly deflect the bullets flying at him. "Typical of the upper class," he said tartly. "Sendin' the lowliest off to do clean-up detail." After that round of complaints, he turned his attention to Black Mask's men. "Right then! Come round now, lads! It may be injury time but I've still got ice cold ass-kickings available! Half price if you ask nice!"

* * *

As Batman watched the windows of the Pemberton zoom by, the momentum of his zip-line pulling him further upwards, his heart was threatening to punch a hole through his chest. Half of him wanted to scream at Stephanie for going off on her own, the other half of him wanted to kick himself for thinking she would listen, and all of him was desperately hoping that she was all right. He wouldn't allow another good person fall due to his own misjudgment. He wouldn't fail again.

* * *

"You know, I don't really understand what you were trying to accomplish with all of this. I mean, you go through all this work, pull all of these strings, and you just go and get smacked down just like that. Did you really think you were going to make a difference? Well, let me tell you something, sunshine. So long as I'm around, you're always going to be a joke and a pretender."

"Ugh. I'll. . . get. . . you."

"Did I say you could talk, bitch!" THWACK! THUD! "Don't bother me while I'm ranting! Anyway, in case you haven't been able to figure it all out, change is comin' to Gotham and anybody who doesn't like it won't like what'll happen to 'em. Get me?"

CRASH!

The Batman smashed through the ornate window that separated the plush office from the terrace outside. He felt a faint, familiar smell tickle his nostrils as he hurriedly scanned the area. There was one unconscious figure: battered, bleeding, and broken, sprawled upon the carpet next to a well-crafted work desk. Another figure was casually sitting upon the desk, looking a bit frayed but otherwise fine. As the Dark Knight's heavy boots stepped upon the shards of glass, the figure turned to him, a familiar mischievous grin on her face.

"Looks like I was wrong." Robin said. "Turns out I only needed three days to take over Gotham. I've even got a snazzy looking office out of the deal!"


	6. Coming Together and Falling Apart

Issue #6

Coming Together and Falling Apart

"Robin, see to the bystanders. Try and evacuate as many people as you can."

Don't get her wrong, Stephanie thought that was a perfectly good idea. Necessary, as a matter of a fact. Not to mention that seeing as how those juiced-up windup toys had beaten down Lloyd, she was quite ready to steer clear of this little scrap. However, after hurriedly carrying a curious five-year-old back to her frantic father, Robin couldn't help but notice that there was not a great many people to evacuate. Despite their many faults, at least the people of Gotham generally knew well enough to skedaddle when the fur started to fly. Unlike those twits in Metropolis who, as far as Stephanie could understand, were more than happy to be put in a life-or-death situation because they just _know_ Superman will be there to save the day, sign an autograph, and buy them a pretzel.

Then again, that may be some pro-Gotham bias sneaking in.

Now with no people to help, Stephanie was left with a decision to make. As far as she could determine, she had two clear options:

Option #1: She could disobey Bruce's orders and leap into the fray, a choice that would most

likely result in a loss of numerous valuable internal organs.

Option #2: She could continue to follow Bruce's orders and continue to skirt the battlefield,

searching for people stupid enough to wander out to see what was obviously going on.

If you believe Option #1 is the answer Stephanie chose, you are wrong. You would also be wrong if you thought she would go with Option #2. The correct, Only in the Warped Mind of Stephanie Brown answer, is this.

Option #3: Rush to the west back alley of the Pemberton and plant a healthy dose of C4 beside

the brick wall allowing her access to the building in a loud and surprising manner.

Covering the lower half of her face with her cape to protect her from the rising smoke, Stephanie performed a front flip over the rubble. Breaking into a sprint upon landing, she was quite pleased to find that there was nary a soul in sight. With the guards occupied by the major league brouhaha going on outside, who was going to worry about this itty bitty bird? Fortune continued to be kind to Robin as the first guard she encountered all but stumbled upon her, completely unprepared for her arrival.

Still running full-on, Stephanie tossed a Batarang that struck the man's head, stunning him before he could so much as think about drawing his gun. Abruptly stopping a foot in front of the staggered man, she slid into a low crouch and leapt high into the air, extending her right leg so high that her foot went well over her head. The leaping high kick caught the poor guard just underneath the chin, the force of the blow nearly causing him to land on his head as he fell. After quickly rifling through the guard's things and pocketing his two-way communicator, Steph was moving again, searching for the elevators.

The copy of the Pemberton blueprints that she had filched from the computer underneath Wayne Manor had served her well, setting her on a direct course for the lifts. As short as the path was, however, it did not stop her from the inevitability of attracting the presence of others. She had managed to take down two more guards on her own, but was eventually forced to throw some well-placed smoke bombs to escape from a more concentrated assault. Despite the difficulties, Stephanie eventually managed to reach the lobby elevators, leaping inside one of them before acquiring any unwanted bullet wounds.

During her brief respite, as she nervously bobbed her head to a ridiculously bad muzak recording of Michael Buble's "Save The Last Dance For Me," her recently acquired communicator crackled to life.

"Security personnel, the intruder is in an elevator approaching the top floor. Units 6, 7, and 8 please converge. Look for a girl dressed up in a Robin costume."

'_Dressed up in a Robin costume?'_ Stephanie thought.

Stephanie blithely stared at the glowing button that she had just pressed. Whistling, she performed a round of silent mathematics as she decided to get a kick-start on Plan B.

* * *

Nine men armed with a variety of semi-automatic weapons were waiting within five feet of the elevator in question as it arrived on the 45th floor. The instant the door had opened, the men opened fire, unloading nearly a hundred rounds into it until they realized that there was nobody in the lift for the rounds to hit. The man in the back of the pack motioned for some of them to search the elevator.

"Someone's been tampering with the emergency exit," one of the investigators said, indicating the heavy scorch marks on the roof of the elevator.

The leader of the group was quite displeased. "Damnit! Search every floor! Don't stop 'til that little birdbrain is full of holes!"

He had spoken these orders with great volume and ferocity, as if he was trying very hard to sound imposing. He may have been trying so hard that he failed to notice that the three people he had sent to investigate the elevator looked to be a bit wobbly. A few seconds later, as the odorless knockout gas began to take hold of his respiratory system, shutting his body down from within, he wondered at what floor that tricky little bitch decided to ditch the elevator.

* * *

As dangerous as the concept of playing an elaborate and exceedingly violent game of hide-and-seek with nearly three dozen gun-toting opponents, Stephanie was beginning to enjoy herself amidst the confusion. She had managed to burn her way through the top of the elevator at around the 18th floor and used a zip-line to climb to the 30th, scrambling through an air vent just moments before her ride could catch up with her. After crawling through a group of ducts that she seriously thought could do with a bit of dusting, Stephanie broke through the roof and dashed for the stairwell.

Strapping on her dark goggles and emptying her utility belt of flash bombs, she kicked open the stairwell door. She ran like a bandit, racing up ten floors worth of staircases in just under a minute. Three guards had gotten in her way and they each received the same treatment: flash bomb to disorient, Batarang to further stun and/or disarm, fist and feet to knock silly. The last of the three, who was clearly not the brightest fork in the fondue set, attempted a running charge in an attempt to knock her down the steps. A slick sidestep and a chop to the back of the neck and Stephanie had taken his idea from him.

It took ten more gas pellets, one shimmy up a lift cable, and another crawling session through the Pemberton air conditioning system for Robin to arrive at her destination. Actually, it was just above her destination, as she had managed to put herself in the vents just above the CEO suite. After a brief re-reconnaissance of both the blueprints and the room, she fired the acetylene torch to life. Along with it, she withdrew another smattering of C4, hastily prepping it for readiness. Sixty-eight seconds later, she activated it, resulting in an explosion at the front of Sionis' office that knocked over some heavy bookcases and all but incinerated a completely innocent house plant. While Sionis' two remaining guards fired round after round into and around the recently created hole, Robin crashed through a small gap that she had created with the torch. By the time the guards had caught onto the ruse, the young lady was well on her way to knocking them unconscious.

That duty done, she turned to the room's two other occupants: The Black Mask and some very nervous looking fellow who appeared to be glued to the telephone.

She addressed the latter first. "I'd leave if I were you."

Tommy Crenshaw didn't need to be told twice.

The Black Mask dully watched his assistant scamper and then turned back to Robin with curious interest. "Didn't I kill you?"

Stephanie grinned nastily. "Nope, that was Doc Thompkins. Don't worry though, you helped her out a lot, so you deserve a lot of the credit. However, my coming _back_ to life and dragging your ass to Blackgate? I'm taking full credit for that one."

Sionis chuckled. "I'll give you credit, little girl, you did a good job getting up here. I don't think my talented, and from what I can now see overpaid, guards even laid a hand on you from the looks of you. Can it be the little birdie has learned some new tricks? Well, a little voice in my head is tellin' me if I get you bleeding again you'll be that little incompetent stripling that doesn't know what she's doing."

"Well, why not try that theory out?" Stephanie said as her smile crawled higher. "If you think you can actually touch me."

"You're awfully cocky. I've gone toe-to-toe with Batman himself, you know."

"Please, skull boy. The only way you could have gone 'toe-to-toe' with Batman is if you two were partnered in a three-legged race. Shut your hole and start fightin'."

Although his bragging that he was a fighter on par with Batman was hardly the truth, Sionis was quite capable of holding his own weight in a fight. His father was a boxing aficionado and had convinced his son to learn the art of boxing. In fact, as far as the Black Mask was concerned, it was the only good thing that rat bastard had ever done for him. Now, decades later, Sionis was as skilled as they came. He did not fight like the lead-footed heavyweights of today, swinging wildly looking constantly for the knockout punch. He was classically trained, a style befitting not only his gaunt, emaciated frame but also satisfied his own sadistic tendencies. He struck with short, quick jabs and crosses designed to cut and bruise, blows that would slowly turn the victim into a beaten soul to be broken with no ability to fight back.

However, this only worked if any of the punches actually landed.

Stephanie dodged, ducked, or parried all of the Black Mask's attacks, his punches hitting nothing more giving than her front forearms. Sionis quickly realized that this was not quite the ridiculous eggplant-clothed woman he had beaten down so mercilessly nearly seven months ago. That girl dodged with her neck and legs, doing too much work to accomplish so little. Now she moved with her shoulders, waist, and feet, leaving him to try and catch her.

While Sionis lashed out at her, Stephanie almost felt like singing. For six months she had worked tirelessly to become faster, stronger, more aware. Despite her accomplishments, she was never really certain if she had improved. The evidence of the glorious proof of her success was almost euphoric. She even scored her fair share of good shots as well, peppering Sionis' nose with swift jabs as she continued to bob, sway, and block.

After another failed flurry, Sionis stepped away from his lithe opponent. "Not bad, but you haven't hurt me at all, little girl. I'll catch up to you soon enough. All this dodging tells me you don't love the pain, you're still scared."

Stephanie folded her right hand to mimic a talking mouth. "Yap, yap, yap. I love pain and you don't. I'm a big freak so be frightened of me. Bigooldigy, boogidy! Do you _ever_ try saying something that isn't just disgusting?" She ducked under two more punches, fell on her back, and launched a double-footed spring kick that struck Sionis right in the gut. The forceful move didn't knock the man down, but it still caused him to stumble backwards. With a natty kip-up, Stephanie was back on her feet in no time at all.

"And for the record, the reason I haven't hurt you that badly isn't because I can't. To be frank, I'm going at about half-speed right now. The reason I'm doing that is, well, I figured I'd return the favor."

"Oh really, Miss Brown. How so?"

As Stephanie spoke again, the two opponents began to circle one another. "Back when I first fought you. That night you killed Orpheus. You knew from the moment I threw my first punch that you'd win. Still you let me land all those punches, made me think I had a shot at beating you. I had to really think why somebody would do something like that. It took me a couple months to figure it out, but I think I've got it now. You wanted to prolong it, savor the pain you gave to me because, well, you're just a sick little puppy."

"Well, maybe I am, dearie. Still I had a great old time making you scream."

"Yes, I imagine you did. Now I'm going to return the favor right here and now."

"Oh ho! I'm quivering with fear! What are you going to do, insult me into submission?"

"Nah. Not enough of a proactive approach for me. Now, you say that you love pain? That I can't hurt you?" Stephanie reached inside another pocket on her utility belt. "Well, personally I think that's a bunch of bullshit but I don't have the time to find out if it's really true or not." She reached into another pocket, a larger one on the back side. "Still, even if you really don't feel pain. . ."

With her left hand, she slammed down her last three remaining gas pellets onto the floor. At the same time, she revealed what was in her right hand.

"You still have to breathe, jack-off."

A gas mask.

The last three pellets in Robin's belt did not contain the potent, but essentially harmless knockout gas that she had employed before. No, they would hardly have fit in with what she was looking to do here. She had saved these specifically for last. As she strapped her mask on, she tried not to smile too broadly as Sionis grew increasingly more alarmed. As the noxious mustard gas spread throughout the wrecked room, she could see the Black Mask's nervousness through even his mask.

Knowing he had only seconds to distance himself away from the deleterious vapors, Sionis attempted to all but run over Stephanie, all ideas of technique and slow punishment thrown aside. Blessed with the gift of clear thinking, Robin dodged to the side with ease, extending her right leg and executing a drop-toe hold as she did so, sending both of them to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Wrapping her right leg around Sionis' left, she stretched mightily to rise into a seated position.

"Now, now, Maskie. If I couldn't run away, you can't either." Placing one hand around the ankle and one about five inches below the bottom of the toes, Stephanie pushed and yanked, breaking the man's foot with a sickening crack. As he growled in pain, he lashed out with a right backhand. Bringing her right forearm up to parry the awkward strike, she wrapped her left fist around Sionis' wrist. She quickly brought her right hand to grasp her writhing opponent's upper bicep and forcefully pushed once again.

One snap and one throaty scream later, Sionis was down two fully-functional limbs. Confident that her quarry was not getting away anytime soon, Stephanie calmly stood up fully and circled her prey, paying particular attention to Sionis' ebony mask. The ghastly shroud that haunted her dreams as she lay dying on a hospital bed at a Gotham free clinic as Batman. . . Bruce held her hand. Withholding a scream, she knelt down and watched as Sionis continued to crawl forward, perhaps with the intention of wrenching the gas mask away from her. She remained well away from his grasp, watching his blind desperation, recognizing it.

"I don't know, buddy. You look like you're goin' through a nice boatload of pain to me." She punctuated this theory with a swift, slicing kick that caught Sionis directly on his right jaw line. As he tried to roll away from Stephanie and the caustic gas that seemed to be broiling his insides, the unmerciful young woman rushed to intercept him, steering around to his front side, kicking him firmly in the gut before stomping him repeatedly in the ribs and stomach.

As Sionis crawled into the fetal position, his body in utter agony, Stephanie moved to see him again face-to-face. "You know what? That jaw's looking pretty bad. Let me take a closer look at that."

Stephanie took hold of Sionis' mask and pulled, ripping it off cleanly. She almost did a double take as she took her first look at the hideous face of the Black Mask. If anything, the broken nose, jaw, and smattered blood was an improvement. Scars and burns adorned nearly every inch of the once exceedingly handsome face of Roman Sionis. She had read that it was quite likely that most of these hideous marks and symbols were placed their by its' owner.

Stephanie whistled loudly. "Damn, Roman. You sho is ugly." Tired of looking at him, she grabbed Sionis by the hair on the back of his head and vehemently slammed his face into the wood floor. To her amazement, the man still remained conscious, albeit in a great deal of pain.

"I'll tell everyone. . . who you. . . are. You won't be safe. Your family won't be safe."

Stephanie absorbed this threat mildly. "Go ahead. Feel free to let everybody know. In fact, I really hope you do! Tell all your new friends in Blackgate that after all that work you put in, how many people that you screwed over to get to the top, that it all came tumblin' down because you got your ass handed to you by a 16-year-old that everybody believes is dead. I'm sure that'll make you the talk of the town."

Turning away from her debilitated opponent, Stephanie hitched herself onto the unspoiled work desk. "You know, I don't really understand what you were trying to accomplish with all of this. I mean, you go through all this work, pull all of these strings, and you just go and get smacked down just like that. Did you really think you were going to make a difference? Well, let me tell you something, sunshine. So long as I'm around, you're always going to be a joke and a pretender."

"Ugh. I'll. . . get. . . you."

"Did I say you could talk, bitch!" She threw a Batarang at Roman's head, chuckling as it slammed into the back of his head, the blow finally knocking him unconscious. "I hate it when people interrupt me talking! Anyway, in case you haven't been able to figure it all out, change is comin' to Gotham and anybody who doesn't like it won't like what'll happen to 'em. Get me?"

* * *

"And that's when you came crashing in."

"Well, I must say, young Robin, though I may not speak for Master Bruce in this matter, you have done quite well for yourself. You are to be commended for your ingenuity, if not for your patience."

Stephanie turned to Alfred, her left eyebrow raised. "_Young Robin_?" she said incredulously, her voice taking on a horribly bad impression of what appeared to be a British accent. "Well, tweedily deedily dee to you too Alfred."

Batman continued to glower at Stephanie as Alfred gave her a gentle smile. "You went against my orders, Robin. Innocent people could have been hurt."

Stephanie began to fidget, clearly nervous about what she was going to do. "Technically, I did follow your orders. It was just that after I finished doing what you told me to do, I thought that it would be a good idea to assault the Pemberton while you two distracted everyone. I mean, I thought it was a good strategy."

"You weren't driven by strategy, you were following your anger! Once again, you let your emotions go unrestrained and rushed off without thinking of the consequences."

"Hey! The last time I fought Roman I ended up beaten, tortured, and placed in a pine box. I think it's safe to say that if anyone knew about the consequences, it'd be me! I knew I could help Gotham by capturing the Black Mask so I did." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Personally, I think you should at least owe me a fruit basket."

"Or at least one of those bookstore gift cards. Never can have enough good books about."

Stephanie grinned and mouthed a silent "thank you" to Lloyd, the fourth occupant of the Batcave and her fellow target of the Batman's ire. Bruce had offered to speak with him back at Wayne Manor, seeing as how the GCPD had arrived shortly after the Batman's melodramatic entrance. Stephanie honestly thought that Lloyd should have asked about what they were going to talk about before he actually accepted the offer. Then again, she was the one who told him about the quality of Alfred's cooking after Lloyd started whining over the fact that he had nothing left back at his apartment to eat except microwavable pizzas, so maybe some of the blame was hers too.

"I'll deal with you in a moment." Bruce barely gave Lloyd's aside a second thought and turned his attentions back to Robin. Meanwhile, Alfred blithely ignored his master's threat and presented Lloyd with a raspberry scone, which he took gratefully and chewed heartily.

"You managed to put yourself in an extremely dangerous and unpredictable environment without informing anyone of your intentions. This occurred even after you were fired previously for making such a rash decision. To be frank, Robin, I only have one question for you."

Stephanie placed her hands on her hips and prepared for the worst. She wasn't going to be cut loose. Not this easily. "And what's that?"

"Why didn't you use your ring?"

_Uh-oh_.

_Busted_.

Stephanie tried to keep up her front. "What are you going on about?" Batman merely tilted his head knowingly as if to say 'are you serious?'.

"I think he means your power ring that you got on your trip to Oa, pet." Lloyd helpfully chimed in.

Stephanie's shoulder sunk, her cover ridiculously blown. "Should have known I couldn't put this past the big-shot master detective and a nosy mind-reader."

"Actually, Miss Stephanie, it was I that had informed Master Bruce of your ring. He did determine just what it was, however."

"Ah jesus, Alfred! Not you too!" Grumbling, she removed her bright, green gauntlets and sunk her right hand into one of the side compartments of her utility belt. "Fine then. I was hoping this would be more of a surprise, but you gotta admit that it's still a hell of a birthday present."

She pulled out a small, dark-green ring formed with a kitschy circular pattern in the middle that made it look as if it could have been bought from a vending machine at a grocery store. However, as she slipped the ring upon her right ring finger, it was quite obvious that it was a great deal more than a trinket. Willing the eldritch accessory to life, Robin took to the sky, flying as gracefully as her namesake even within the narrow confines of the Batcave. After her short demonstration, she returned to the ground, her small frame still wrapped within a green cocoon of energy, a signature residual effect of using one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy.

"The power ring of the Green Lantern," Stephanie droned, sounding like a very unenthusiastic infomercial announcer. "Offers flight, forcefields, and any other power within your imagination so long as the ring has enough power to create the necessary energy. All this, and it's a very nice book-light!"

"My word, Miss Stephanie," said Alfred. "Who on earth would give you such a dangerous thing?"

Stephanie didn't look the least bit miffed by Alfred's snipe. "I would like to point out that they gave one to Guy Gardner."

"Duly noted, young lady."

"Hope you got the service contract with that, pet."

Stephanie waved that idea away. "Please. I'm not shelling out fifty bucks for a stupid warranty that I'll just lose anyway."

"As for why I didn't wear the ring. . ." Stephanie slipped the ring off her finger, returning Robin into her normal, somewhat unimpressive self. "I trained long and hard for what I did tonight. I learned a new way to fight, a new way to _think_. I didn't do all that because I wanted to be worthy of this thing. I did it because I wanted to be worthy of this."

She patted the Robin insignia upon her torso.

"I'm not here to be Green Lantern, I'm here to be Robin."

Alfred and Lloyd were both clearly impressed by this showing of loyalty. However, the man she was actually looking to impress remained stoic and unmoved. "The rings are supposed to be passed along to occupants of the same space sector. I don't recall any of our Green Lanterns dying."

"My ring used to belong to Kosar Knal'tack. He lived out in some star system in the galactic boondocks that had some major league problems for centuries. The sun in that system was about to disintegrate and Knal'tack gave his life in an effort to keep that from happening. He failed and now the entire system is either disintegrated or non-inhabitable. So, since they had one extra ring and our little blue ball always seems to be in danger _and_ I'm apparently some kind of golden child or whatever, they gave it to me."

"So. You answer to this council now, Miss Stephanie?"

Stephanie turned to Alfred and shook her head. "Not really. With Hal Jordan and John Stewart back on the Corps, they'll be the ones fielding Council assignments. I'm basically an alternate, somebody to go in when things get sticky."

"Bugger, blondie. They let you get away wit' a sweet deal like that?"

"No, but Hal Jordan let me. B, he says 'hi' by the way."

Right now, Batman couldn't care less about what the former Spectre wished to say to him. "You shouldn't have tried to keep this from me, Robin."

It was hardly the first time that Batman had admonished her. However, this one wasn't spoken with anger or disappointment. She was used to be talked to like that. He spoke with sadness.

As if. . . Sheesh! This guy thought _everything_ was his fault!

"Look, I didn't really mean to keep all this from you. And again, what happened with the Black Mask and Doctor Thompkins _wasn't your fault_! I was stupid to try and go off on my own the last time. The whole reason I did all this work was to show you that I can handle myself. So please don't fire me again. Please?"

Batman sighed deeply as he wearily removed his cowl. "I'm not firing either you or Lloyd. In fact, I'm thanking you."

Even the two loudmouths had nothing to say to this. Alfred nearly dropped his dessert tray.

"Lloyd, Stephanie. I've spent a great deal of my career avoiding people who claim to want to work with me. I've done it so often that now apparently people view me as a paranoid loner, that I'm dangerous. Now, personally I don't believe this to be true, but I couldn't call myself a detective if I couldn't see some truth _in it_. You have to understand that it's been a long time since I've been able to accept an offer of assistance at face value."

Lloyd and Stephanie both nodded.

"I don't consider myself to be the best trainer for someone with powers such as yourselves and you already know that I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to partners or associates. However, watching what the two of you were capable of doing tonight, I would be a fool to turn you away. I apologize for my behavior towards the both of you in the past few days and I would be happy to have you."

Bruce held up a single finger. "However, there is a condition. If you want to work with me, there will be no more secrecy. I will not tolerate the both of you rushing off on your own agendas. If we're going to be a team, then you will have to act the part."

Lloyd and Stephanie both turned to one another, contemplating the stipulation. "Well, I think I speak for both Stephanie and myself when I say that we'll expect the same in return."

Bruce briefly stared at Lloyd, first with annoyance then with understanding. "I will. However, I must warn you that I have been told that is not one of my strong suits."

Alfred said nothing.

"Well, since we're all in the forgiving frame o' mind, I'll take me turn at it." Lloyd moved towards Bruce, extending his hand. "I apologize for comin' into your burg and insultin' ya. Mao said you were a good bloke and he's never steered me wrong before. Heh, you'd think my bein' a mind-reader and all would make me a better judge of character."

Bruce rose from his chair and shook the proffered hand. "That's quite all right, Lloyd."

After the moment of solidarity had passed, the three gentlemen turned towards Stephanie.

Robin remained nonchalant. "What cha looking at me for? I saved Gotham City tonight and I already apologized for hiding the ring. I've got nothing else to apologize for."

The looks intensified into glares.

"'Less you count the fact you ferreted off to take on Black Mask, three-dozen armed guards, _and _left us to deal with three Amazos," Lloyd pointed out.

Stephanie blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. Just go and count every little thing!"

Lloyd chuckled and turned back to Bruce. "Well, I suppose I'm in then."

Bruce wore the briefest hint of a smile. "Very well, then. Stephanie is already staying here at the manor. You're free to join us here if you wish."

"Bloody hell. Free room and board too? I was just happy with the scones."

Stephanie happily grabbed Lloyd by the arm and began to yank him up the stairs. "Come on, pard. I'll show you where Alfred hides the chocolate chip cookies! You should see this place! It's friggin' huge! Last night, I got lost trying to get back to my room from the bathroom and I kept expecting a voice to lead me back."

"Would you stop pulling on me! I know how to walk, you little twit!"

As he and Alfred watched Wayne Manor's two new occupants walk off to pillage the kitchen, Bruce removed his cape and body armor. "Well, Alfred. I think I'll be going to bed." When Alfred didn't respond, Bruce turned around. "Is anything wrong?"

As expected, it took hardly any time at all for Alfred Pennyworth to regain his composure. "My apologies, Master Bruce. I momentarily drifted. If you require nothing at all, then I will see you in the morning."

"Good night, Alfred."

As Bruce also proceeded upstairs, the butler looked around the dark tableau of the Batcave, marveling over the events of the past forty-eight hours. It was his preeminent wish that his charge would no longer have to continue his crusade against crime alone, that Bruce would once again find the strength to reach out towards the people that cared for him.

This was not entirely what he was hoping for, but it would most certainly do for now.

* * *

It had only been two hours since the Gotham City Police Department had received a distress call retaining to a strange disturbance outside the Pemberton office complex. By now, the events of the night were already becoming the stuff of urban legend.

There was certainly enough material to fuel the fire of intrigue: destroyed remnants of stolen military gear, the innards of the Pemberton riddled with bullet holes and rubble borne of multiple explosions, and the GCPD's arrest of Roman Sionis, the most powerful crime boss in Gotham, along with almost thirty of his men. It would not be long before the rumors would begin to circulate over just what were the exact circumstances that led to this bizarre event. Despite the public interest, however, only a handful of people would know the truth behind the mystery.

Unfortunately for that handful, Jason Todd was one of them.

Damnit. He knew that the old man was capable of doin' some crazy shit, but this was friggin' ridiculous! He had fully anticipated Bruce's little cartoon pals abandoning him and leaving Gotham. Even idiots like Grayson and Drake had their limits. He had even banked on the possibility that some of them might return before he could put his plan into motion.

He didn't expect this.

Jason quickly bottled his frustration. All he would have to do to overcome this is to prioritize. There would always be a time to finish off that psychotic court jester. Maybe Sionis' downfall could even play into his favor. Batman, however, was a different matter. He knew that the Society had touched down. He didn't have as many details as he would have liked, but he knew enough to realize that Gotham was soon to become a war zone, a battlefield that Bruce might not leave standing.

He wasn't about to give anyone else the privilege of finishing Batman.

Jason grinned maliciously at the thought of putting an end to his former mentor. One-on-one. Gotham's past against its' present.

And it would be between him and Bruce. Even the so-called Black Dog couldn't be everywhere at once. All he had to do was to find a distraction to occupy the boy's time and he would have revenge upon those who had rejected him, who had forgotten him.

And no new pretender was going to stop him.

He would see to that first.

Misfits Confidential

Well, that will end the first major arc of The Misfits. A lot of questions answered and more questions asked to take their place. Once again, thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I sincerely hope you'll enjoy what's to come, even if I'm not entirely certain about what's coming. I'm planning a lot of strange stuff, not the least of which is that fair-haired weirdo girl dressed up in that Robin costume. For those of you who feel Jason Todd-deprived, fear not! He'll definitely make an impact on the next few issues. Speaking of which. . .

Issue #7 Preview

Well, with The Black Mask deposed and shipped off to Blackgate, things have begun to quiet down in Gotham. Of course, given Gotham that just means that things are about to get really dicey! We've got Jason Todd, the mysterious Society, and a whole other bunch of unsavory lads and lasses looking to make Gotham their own personal nesting ground. What are three little superheroes and their affable butler to do? Find out in the next installment of The Misfits: Gearing Up. See you in seven!


	7. Gearing Up

Issue #7

Gearing Up

"Will there be anything else, Deathstroke?"

Slade Wilson's quiet reveries were broken by the oily, cloying voice of his second-in-command. A Korean and Vietnam War veteran, Slade was a man that had been both respected and feared for well over four decades. For many years, he was a contract killer, the man known the world over for having the nerve to take on assignments that his peers deemed impossible while possessing the intelligence to recognize the situations when success was impossible. For all intents and purposes, he is a living embodiment of survival of the fittest. This statement was true even before the military experiments that heightened his strength, speed, and cognitive capabilities to levels far above that of a normal man. Despite being well into his fifties, he was still one of the most dangerous people on the planet.

"That will be all, Psimon. Do yourself a favor and get out of my sight. Perhaps you should do something along your milieu and go terrorize some schoolchildren."

The repugnantly exposed cerebellum of the telepath seemed to quiver, as if Simon Jones was honestly considering doing just that. The former physicist's grin heightened eerily as he slunk away from his boss and scurried off to join his cohorts, the so-called Fearsome Five.

Slade took a moment to examine the foul little band of reprobates. They were there to take orders from him and nothing more, but he still felt a heaving helping of hypocrisy as he remembered all those times when he would tell his daughter that he didn't approve of the company she kept.

If there was anyone who gave so-called "super-villains" or rogues a bad name, it was these twits. Their most recent exploits included a row with the Outsiders during which they raided a civilian office building and brainwashed the company's CEO. They instructed him to release a toxic gas throughout the building, killing everyone inside before coercing the man into killing himself. The entire matter, including the almost reverent tones that the group had used to describe what they had done, had thoroughly disgusted Slade. Hundreds of innocent people killed for a simple distraction. After that ignoble feat, Psimon and his group broke into an American military compound in order to steal an atomic bomb so that they could bomb Canada. Canada, for Christ's sakes! Slade would have rid the world of the dolts himself if it was his choice.

But it wasn't his choice, was it?

It had been a long time since Slade had not been at the wheel of his own craft and the feeling of confinement was beginning to chafe. He had long grown content with his life as a mercenary, a hired gun who could pick and choose his own activities and goals. However, as much as he valued his independence, he was smart enough to recognize that he had to make a hard decision. The Society had hundreds of despots, murderers, and power players at their disposal and as far as they were concerned you were either with them or against them. There was no grey area.

Slade liked grey area. It was too simple to call yourself a "good guy" or a "bad guy". It was your ability and your actions that made you who you were, not the label that you strapped yourself with. He wasn't about to compare himself to egotistical Machiavellians like Luthor or Vandal Savage or wholesale murderers like The Joker. On the other hand, considering some of the more recent exploits from the "good guy" community, Slade honestly believed that the bar of the hero "label" had lowered significantly.

He had seriously considered turning down the Society's offer. Well, threat would be the more accurate term for what the Society had put on his table. In fact, he was half-ready to shove a bowie knife into that nauseating mush rump Doctor Psycho the moment he laid eyes on him. And if he was still working on his own, it would have been quite likely that he would have done just that.

However, he wasn't alone. He had Rose. To make an enemy of the Society would have made his daughter an enemy of the Society. He couldn't risk that. He frowned as the impact of that truth took hold of him. Perhaps Adeline was right when she said that he had grown soft in his old age, but he had already lost Grant and Joey, Adeline and Wintergreen. He wouldn't lose anyone else because of his pride.

So this is how Slade Wilson currently spends his days: following Luthor's orders, playing his part, and looking grim and dangerous at Society meetings. He heard a familiar song chirping from his pants pocket. Grumbling, he promptly pulled out his phone, hastily silencing Megadeth's "99 Ways to Die" (Rose thought it was _cool_) and answered the call.

"Salutations, Mister Wilson," said a cordial voice. "How goes it in the land of oil and vinegar?"

Deathstroke snorted derisively, perhaps the most amiable expression he had exhibited since he had received this assignment. "That joke wasn't funny the first time you pulled it out of mothballs, Kuttler."

As bizarre as it was, one of the few good things that Slade had been able to garner from his tenure with the Society was being able to make an acquaintance of Noah Kuttler. Before then, Slade had only known his as The Calculator, a ridiculous looking fellow who wore a keyboard on his chest and was mostly known for having his ass handed to him by nearly anyone wearing a cape and/or spandex. After staying out of the headlines for several years, Kuttler recently resurfaced, devoting his time far more efficiently by becoming a valued and necessary source of information for those that didn't exactly follow the letter of the law. The man who was once a laughing stock within the world of rogues was now an invaluable commodity, a renowned authority that was as well regarded in his field as Slade was in his own.

What truly impressed Slade, however, was that the man was a consummate professional, cognizant of his own faults of limitations, and wasn't at all megalomaniacal, psychotic, or any ways otherwise insane. Noah was a welcome respite from the coterie of sycophants and lunatics that seemed to dominate the Society.

"Kuttler, can you explain to me why I am in a Gotham safe house with four juvenile murderers who happen to call themselves the 'Fearsome Five'?"

"To be fair, Slade, there _are_ currently five members in the Fearsome Five. However, I'm afraid Sabbac is on a separate assignment. Also, as much as I would like to sympathize with your plight, please remember that I am now the sole voice of reason amidst the bihourly squabbles between Talia Al-Ghul and Arthur Light. In addition to this, Doctor Psycho's threats to murder me in my sleep and steal my M&Ms. are becoming increasingly frequent."

"Point taken, Noah. Still, there are far better ways to be spending my time than chasing down Bruce Wayne."

"I quite agree. Along that line, Luthor has me going after the Birds of Prey. Although I can't imagine what he hopes for me to accomplish when my 'muscle' consists of Black Spider and Hellhound."

"Oh, good lord."

"My sentiments exactly. Well, enough complaints. Let's see if we can get along to business then. If you would just connect your phone to the laptop I gave you." Slade had little trouble doing so and Noah continued on. "I should be able to provide some photographs to go with the information I've garnered about your targets. Before I begin, allow me to remind you that this may not be a complete listing, but I assure you that the information I have acquired is quite definitive considering the time I've been given."

"Just as I would expect from you, Noah. Proceed." Moments later, Slade's first target appeared on the screen. It was a very familiar figure whose visage drew both Slade's respect and ire.

"I trust you already know all there is needed to be known about Batman. Genius level intellect, master of several dozen forms of martial artists, and he is considered to be the world's greatest detective."

"Nothing I don't already know and cannot overcome. Next, please."

The second figure was a new face. By all appearances, she appeared to be pathetically normal. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a small, but solidly built frame. Even the garish Robin costume did little to draw his attention, despite his long-standing history with those who had accepted that particular mantle. As unimpressive as she appeared, however, Slade knew well enough to only take so much information from the first, cursory glance.

"This young lady's name is Stephanie Brown. Apparently, Mr. Wayne has chosen to take this young lady under his wing due, pardon the phrase, in lieu of Timothy Drake's decision to move to Bludhaven."

The well-oiled gears in Slade's brain were already starting to turn. "You'll pardon me for my reluctance, Noah, but I seem to recall reading about this young lady's death."

"I don't doubt that, Slade. However, judging from the evidence I've acquired, I assure you that young Stephanie is alive and well. This means that either the young lady's demise was staged for some reason or she has somehow managed to return from the dead. Of course, given our unique circumstances, I would say that both possibilities are equally likely."

"You got anything to prove this is the real deal?"

"Other than an array of security footage showing her outwitting nearly thirty armed guards on her way to personally collar the Black Mask, nothing at all."

Slade quietly mulled over that mildly disturbing bit of information. He wasn't a big fan of wild cards and it didn't please him in the least that even Noah could garner so little information about the girl's capabilities, but he trusted enough in his own abilities to see him through. "Anybody else?"

Deathstroke could hear the nervousness in Noah's voice as he spoke. "Well, um, now things may be getting a little tricky."

If anything, this warning only served to intrigue the assassin. "Go on."

The third figure that appeared on Slade's screen was someone he recognized, although this was only because he recognized the blade the young man held.

"Well, well. So the Black Dog has come to Gotham."

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Noah replied. "Other than the fact that his birth name is Lloyd Thomas, there is little I've been able to find out about him outside of rumors and speculations. However, everything I've unearthed tells me that this young man is very powerful and exceedingly dangerous."

"Well, Noah. That just makes the hunt all the more entertaining."

"As much as I admire you confidence, I would advise you to be on your guard. Judging from the efficiency in which they took care of Sionis, it's quite clear that Batman is looking to gather an array of very dangerous people."

* * *

"32-B?"

A shrill voice interrupted the cheery morning activities taking place within the Wayne Manor kitchen. Alfred Pennyworth looked up from his small collection of pots and pans that contained familiar breakfast staples in varying stages of readiness. From eggs to bangers to hotcakes to sticky buns, the kindly butler was on the verge of preparing a truly handsome spread for the three other occupants of the stately mansion. Of course, the question of whether or not the three of them would partake in, much less appreciate his efforts was something that was yet to be answered.

Even before he had made Wayne Manor his home, Alfred had always found breakfast to be his favorite meal to prepare. Although he had never admired the adage of "you are what you eat", breakfast, and what people chose to eat during this particular meal, could tell you a great deal about who that person was. Master Bruce, much like his father before him, was a man who valued efficiency: maximum resources for minimum cost, aesthetics be damned. Lloyd, on the other hand, seemed more than happy to eat whatever was placed in front of him, just as Richard, Jason, and Tim had done before him. Then again, Alfred supposed that this had little to do with reflecting one's own mannerisms and more to do with a young man's innate tendency to digest any and all foodstuffs within grabbing distance.

Stephanie, on the other hand. . .

A bright white, under-wire bra had been thrown into Alfred's meticulously prepared bowl of griddle batter. The entrance of a fuming Stephanie soon followed this unusual collision. Clad in blue jeans and a simple t-shirt, she held a cup of coffee in her hand and a sour look on her face. It amazed Alfred that despite having nearly two-dozen blends of perfectly good coffee available at home, Miss Stephanie chose more often than not to tromp over to that godforsaken coffee shop.

When Stephanie had taken up residence at Wayne Manor only one month ago, Alfred had believed that his previous experiences with Miss Cain would somewhat prepare him to meet the needs of Miss Brown.

No, Alfred did not need to be reminded of what a ridiculous assumption that was.

"I diet, weight train, and work my ass off for six months trying to build myself into a lean, mean, Black Mask ass-kicking machine and this is my reward! I lost an entire cup size, damn it! The _one_ part of my body I was actually proud of is gone!"

Alfred, who had been privy to all kinds of problems and catastrophes while serving as an advisor, field doctor, and butler to the so-called Bat clan, didn't have the slightest hint of an idea in how to defuse the ticking time-bomb before him.

"Why couldn't I just be like the other super-bimbos JUST ONCE! I mean, look at Wonder Woman! What is she? Six foot two, 15-inch waist and boobs out to here!" Stephanie extended her arms a good twelve inches away from her chest. "And don't even get me started talking about Power Girl!" Morosely plucking her bra out from the batter, she slumped into a chair and let her blonde hair fall into her eyes. "It's a cosmic injustice, Alfred."

Alfred certainly wished to comfort the young lady in some way, but for some reason it seemed that he couldn't take his mind of the question of whether or not the batter was still usable. Of course, this ridiculous display of avoidance may very well have been due to the fact that, at the moment, Alfred would currently rather be anywhere else in the world than the place he was currently standing in.

Alfred was thankful to all that was holy and unholy when Lloyd stalked into the kitchen before Stephanie could begin to ask for his opinion about the matter in question. The young man's eyes were still lidded with sleep and his short, black hair was slightly askew. He robotically raised his right hand to say hello to the others as he drowsily made his way to the breadbox. He pulled out two English muffins and moved towards the toaster, stifling a yawn as he did so.

"Hey, Lloyd! Do my breasts look funny to you?"

Lloyd walked straight out of the kitchen without a word, his uncooked muffins still in his hand. Moments after he was out of sight, a small cabinet door swung open and a large jar of peanut butter flew out of it. A moment after that, the silverware drawer opened and a knife flew out of it, hurtling in the same direction as Lloyd and the peanut butter.

Stephanie rushed off after him. "Come on, man! I'm not askin' for a mammogram here!"

Lloyd huffed as he began his magic-prepared breakfast, using a heating spell to prepare his muffins. "Look, pet. Seein' as how I've spent the majority of me adolescence either killing things or learning how to kill things, 'I don't think I qualify as an expert in this matter. 'Sides, Wayne wants to see us down in the Batcave. Boss wants to have a chat with us 'fore he heads off on his business day."

"All right, all right." By now, Stephanie was walking side-by-side with Lloyd. "I don't know why I'm obsessing over this. It's just that, well, between dying and training and patrolling, I really haven't had much time to think about the more comforting things in life."

Lloyd stared at Stephanie as he used his telepathy to spread Jif onto his muffins. "So naturally this brings you to ask people about your knockers?"

Stephanie sighed, giving up the point. "Well, the only guy I've ever loved is off to greener pastures with my former best friend, we've spent the last month working our asses off putting the heads of every major crime families in Gotham behind bars, we've rounded up almost every costumed freak within the tri-county area, and I still haven't had the courage to call up my mother and let her know that her only daughter is still among the living and is working with the person she hates more than anyone else in the world. Forgive me if I'm looking for a distraction."

That declaration caused Lloyd to pause as they both arrived at the passageway that would lead them to the Batcave and their new assignments.

"Well, considerin' you're a minor, far too loud for me own tastes, and highly prone to fits of violence, I still think ya got nice tits. Look quite nice for your frame. Want a muffin?"

Lloyd presented Stephanie with a muffin drenched in peanut butter. Refusing to give an inch, she took the offered treat, smiled, and took a hearty bite.

"Asshole."

* * *

"We've managed to prevent any wellsprings of mob-related violence and none of the few remaining main syndicates have either the manpower or the confidence to attempt any extravagant measures to gain power over the other."

"I say let 'em step on up, B. Hell, I don't even care who steps up. I'm an equal opportunity ass-kicker," Stephanie quipped.

Batman ignored his partner's gusto and continued forward. "Furthermore, The Joker, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn are all safely back in Arkham. On an additional note, it appears that Mrs. Isley is suffering from a significant case of catatonia." He looked pointedly at Stephanie.

Lloyd turned to Stephanie as well. "Think you permanently scarred that chit with the stunt you pulled last night, Steph."

Stephanie didn't appear to be the least bit ashamed of her actions. "So I ran into her hideout with a 200-pound weed-whacker. You can't tell me that those mutated fly traps didn't need trimming!"

While his two understudies chortled, Batman continued his spiel, moving towards his central computer. "All good humor and major psychological damage aside, with the Riddler in Star City and the Penguin in Bludhaven, it appears that the streets of Gotham have achieved a rare moment of relative inactivity. Because of this respite, I believe it is time that we move on to larger matters."

Batman pressed a button on the keyboard of his mainframe, causing a series of photographs and corresponding links to appear on the screen. "My informant within the Society has told me that the organization has all but concluded its recruiting phase and now appear to be ready to take their first steps into the spotlight and it appears that our elimination is rather high on their list of priorities."

"Still don't understand why we don't just take the fight to them." Lloyd grumbled. "We got any idea on how many are comin' after us? On _who_ is comin' after us?"

Batman pressed another button, magnifying an image of Slade Wilson. "The exact numbers are not yet precise. However, we do know that Deathstroke is in charge of the operation."

"Oh, bloody lovely."

"You've heard of him, Lloyd?" asked Stephanie.

"Only by reputation," the young man replied.

"Then you are already well-aware of the fact that he is an extremely dangerous individual. That being said, Lloyd, if you have the possibility to pursue or bring him into custody, I'm giving you the green light. If that opportunity happens, however, I'm asking you to stay on your guard and take significant caution. Stephanie. . ."

"Let me guess. I don't have the green light?"

"Good guess. Until further notice, we'll either patrol as one group or in routes no larger than 5 miles apart. Now, on to the next issue. . ."

Another image appeared on the screen. Although its muscular frame, long legs and arms made it look somewhat human, the similarities all but ended there. The color of the creature was shifting in shades of blue ranging from the clearest sky to the deep blue of the deepest ocean. A glowing, blood red sphere that appeared to serve as an optic lens was where the eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. The unnaturally bulging forearms the eye-shaped insignia upon its torso, and the dorsal fin sprouting from the top of its head and extending to the back of the creature's neck only added to the general feeling of uneasiness brought about by the machination.

"Trojan Man!" Stephanie sang, a gesture that earned her a cuff to the back of the head courtesy of Lloyd Thomas.

"Several months ago, a black ops organization known as Checkmate absconded from the United States military. Headed by Maxwell Lord, the organization was reorganized to bring about the elimination of the meta-human population under the banner of desiring to make the world a safer place for 'normal' people. These were to be his tillers. Observational Meta-human Activity Constructs or OMACs."

"Wait a minute," Stephanie interrupted. "Was? As in the past tense of is?"

Batman nodded. "Checkmate has already been dissolved. The government has severed all times with the organization and Wonder Woman was personally responsible for killing Lord. From what I've been able to gather, Maxwell had placed Superman into a state of deep hypnosis and ordered him to kill her. Apparently, she believed the best way to solve the problem was murder."

"Bloody hell. Quick question though, should we feel bad about this guy eatin' it?"

"Feel what you want to feel about Max Lord, Lloyd. The more important matter is that the OMACs remain active and are still attempting to carry out their original objective. It appears that they are still receiving orders from the Brother Eye satellite, just as they had while they were under Checkmate's control, although the identity of the current controller of the satellite remains unknown."

Lloyd raised his hand. "Back up a mo'. _Brother Eye_? As in that doohickey you put up in space to watch over meta-human activity. You mean to tell me these things are getting info from your old spy satellite?"

"It figures." Stephanie grumbled. "You try and go and do a nice thing like spy on your friends and it goes and bites you in the ass like that!"

"Clearly, there's no justice in this world, pet."

Batman ignored the well-deserved ribbing over what he was quickly believing to be his greatest mistake and continued onward. "Though Brother Eye was my idea, I assure you that the OMACs were not. However, it still remains my responsibility to stop any wrongdoing produced by the misuse of Brother Eye and I'll need your help to carry that duty out. According to the reports of confrontations between meta-humans and the constructs, it has been made very clear that the OMAC is strong, fast, and extremely durable. However, it appears that they are particularly vulnerable towards attacks that interfere with their internal circuitry, such as an electromagnetic pulse. I trust that given your collective talents of energy manipulation that the both of you are capable of producing something along those lines?"

"Sure," Lloyd said dully.

"Want me to show you?" asked Stephanie.

"I will take your word for it," Batman replied. "I haven't yet managed to be able to come up from the approximate number of OMACs that Brother Eye has available nor have I been able to produce any salient data on the matter of how they are developed."

"How about we just go after the satellite then?" asked Robin.

"We can't, Stephanie. And the reason we can't is the same reason we haven't gone after the Society. We lack both the firepower and the necessary information in order for us to carry out a precise strike. Until we can acquire more of both, we must remain on the defensive."

"OMACs, Deathstroke, The Society, Jason Todd." Lloyd ticked off his fingers while naming each of the available threats. "Quite a few things to be dodgin' right now."

"You are free to run back to Mao Tenryu if you think this is too difficult for you, Lloyd."

Lloyd sourly crossed his arms over his chest as Stephanie chuckle. "'M not worried," Lloyd replied. "'M just a touch cautious."

"And there's nothing wrong with that." Batman reiterated. "Patience is indeed a virtue in this case and the both of you would do well to exercise it while I and my source continue to generate information upon the Society and the constructs. It will be up to the both of you to conduct standard patrols. Be sure to complete the training exercises I've assigned for you before we begin tonight's patrol. Tonight, we'll go out in two teams. Lloyd, I want you to try and track down any of our remaining figurehead fugitives. See if they've had any contact with the Society and get any information out of them that you can."

"Interrogation," Lloyd said with a hint of anticipation. "Always a good time."

"Stephanie and I will maintain regular patrol. Should either team make contact with Deathstroke, any of his affiliates, or an OMAC, they will immediately make contact with the other squad. It's best that we remain on a solid front. Now, do either of you have any questions?"

Stephanie had one. "Want a sip of my coffee?"

Batman paused before staring down at the Starbucks-brand offering. Taking a moment of two to consider his options, he ultimately took the cup from his partner's hands and took a small sip.

"Awful. What is this garbage?"

"Well then, it appears the nays have it." Lloyd said with a grin.

Stephanie was fuming. "It's a Mocha Valencia and it's perfectly good! Well, fine! I guess I'll have to be the only one with good taste around here!"

Lloyd continued to snigger as he made his way back upstairs and back to the breakfast table. Stephanie, however, chose to put off breakfast for just a while longer. Batman looked at her from the corner of his eye, noticing that nervous fidgeting and apprehension had replaced her even, straightforward posture. The detective made a point to ignore her for a few moments, taking some time out to postulate the possible responses he could use to answer the questions on his partner's mind.

"Yes, Stephanie?"

"Well, since we're on the subject of dodging, why aren't talking about Jason Todd in these little daily huddle-ups?"

Robin's question didn't surprise Batman in the least and he knew how to respond. "Jason will be dealt with, Stephanie. I can assure you of that."

Stephanie gave off a frustrated groan, obviously quite unsatisfied with the answer. "Am I going to have to remind you of the team dynamic thing we're trying to do? 'Cause I've been working on this PowerPoint presentation since I figured it would save me some time having to explain it to you again and again and again. . ."

"Jason is my responsibility, Robin."

Stephanie withheld her anger. It was far too early in her day to start banging her head against this brick wall. "Well, on the bright side, we haven't seen a hide or a hair of him in the last couple of weeks. You don't suppose he did what I would do in his shoes and move to Cabo?"

Bruce smirked. "Highly unlikely. After all, it was one of Jason's ambitions to take over the criminal aspects of Gotham City. Perhaps he believed that he could destroy it from within or perhaps he merely wanted to have that power. Regardless of his intentions however, Sionis' arrest must have forced him to alter his plans. He's laying low; choosing instead to gather information and look for the best avenue of attack instead of rushing in. He's acting in the same manner that I would employ if I was placed in his situation."

"How decidedly creepy," said Stephanie. "And may I ask what happens if he decides that the best avenue of attack is going straight down Robin Boulevard?"

Batman put the fingers of his right hand to his chin, mildly scratching at the bit of stubble that had grown there throughout the night's patrols. "Just leave him to me, Stephanie. This isn't your fight."

* * *

"Steffie, Steffie, Steffie."

Jason Todd coolly hurled a curved dagger at his target with fantastic accuracy, the tip of the blade puncturing the left eye of the picture of Stephanie Brown. Drawing another blade from his hip pocket, he threw again, this time hitting the right eye.

"Shouldn't have done what you did."

He bent his knees slightly before throwing himself into a corkscrew back flip. He pulled out another blade in mid-twirl and let it fly. The knife sliced into the picture's nose with so much force that the blade was nearly driven into the wood up to the hilt. Landing in a crouch, Jason reached into another back pocket, pulling out a small smattering of throwing knives. As he rose to his full height, he threw one dagger after another.

"You shouldn't. . ."

THUNK!

"have gotten. . ."

THUNK! THUNK!

"IN MY WAY!"

THUNK! THUNK!

The anger in Jason Todd's brain and heart continued to boil. It was bad enough when it was Tim Drake; when Robin was some spoiled little rich kid who thought he was smart enough to know it all. Jason could at least somewhat understand why Bruce would bring him into the fold. Drake was different from him and that moron Grayson. Jason could understand why Bruce would want to distance himself from someone that was different from his previous partners.

But this one. . .

She was brash, impulsive, and prone to backtalk. When she fought, it was clear that she enjoyed the sensation of fist and feet hitting flesh and bone. She knew she belonged in it. She wasn't a pretender, she was a replacement.

Now, he may have no longer wanted to be Robin, but Jason Todd was not ready to be replaced. Not after all that he had been through.

When Stephanie first adopted the mantle, before the Black Mask's violent takeover of Gotham, Jason had been looking forward to punishing this new recruit. Through her he would remind Bruce of his own blind arrogance and stupidity. However, his plans for the little bird were merely a small portion of his overall agenda, an unnecessary bit of whipped cream on the parfait. When she read about her death, it only served to remind Jason that he was right and that his way was the right way. But now, now that she had returned and merrily ruined his plans for Gotham by taking down Sionis, Jason viewed her mere presence as a continuous slap in the face.

He knew what he had to do. Bruce refused to avenge his death, to deliver that zoot-suit wearing clown to divine justice after the madman had gone out of his way to brutally murder him. So, Jason wanted to find out what Bruce would do when he killed Batman's new pet. He would showcase Bruce's failure to keep the people he cared about safe from harm. The student would teach the master one final lesson before putting him out to pasture.

He took a final look at the photograph of Stephanie Brown, her pretty face punctured by eight daggers that had been arranged to mirror the picture's cheery smile.

"Keep on smiling, little bird," Jason said with a smile filled with malice and nasty intentions. "You're in my cage now."


	8. Owning Up

Issue #8

Owning Up

As Larry Robinson drove his cab through the rain-soaked streets of Bristol, he was quite inclined to believe that, all things considered, it had been a good night. For starters, a newlywed couple had given him a hundred dollars for a ten-dollar fare. Apparently, the husband had gotten a sweet promotion and he and his young wife were in the mood to share the wealth. He even had a chance to speak to his old high-school girlfriend by lucky circumstance. They had a nice little talk about old, forgotten friends and had even started to scheme up plans for a reunion over the holidays before they had arrived at her apartment.

Larry knew that he could use all the nice, random moments in life he could receive. After all, he had a wedding to attend this weekend. His ex-wife's, to be exact. She was shacking up with some big shot ad exec who was planning on moving everybody off to Texas as soon as the rice was thrown. Other than the unlikely possibility that his ex was trying to rub her newfound success in his face, Larry honestly couldn't think of any reason why she would invite him. There was still a bit of bad blood between them. He knew the invite had come from the kids.

Jessica and Mary. It had been months since he'd seen them. Mary was startin' her first summer job and Jess was getting all excited about going to UConn and having her first time away from home. He and Emily weren't ready, emotionally or financially, to take care of them when they were born and that inability had cost the both of them dearly. This wasn't to say that they both didn't love their children. In fact, it was the only thing the two of them really had in common anymore.

The divorce came just a couple weeks after Mary turned five. There were a lot of tears and tough questions that had to be answered, but everything worked out pretty well in the end. Now, Jessica is 18 and between him, Emily, and the new husband they've got enough money to pay for whatever they need. They're just not together as a family anymore. One step forward, a lot of steps back.

Larry knew that he was dodging what he had to face up to and the question he had to answer. Should he swallow his pride, go to the wedding, and weather the awkwardness and the glares of former in-laws? Would all of that be worth it just to see his kids for a handful of moments? Maybe he could use the extra fare money he had gotten tonight to give them a present or two. Maybe a couple of those Ipods or whatever you called them. They'd like that.

The middle-aged cab driver pulled off the interstate, now only a couple turns away from home. He felt a slight and sudden burning sensation as the light flashed green and he turned onto the side road. He chalked it up to indigestion. Should have known better than to have four slices of pizza just before spending five hours sittin' in a cab. Maybe it was some kind of side effect from the shot his doctor gave him this morning. He knew flu season had come and gone, but his allergies were acting up and when you've got a job that works you seven-days-a-week, you know it's better to be safe than sorry.

Damn, he wanted to see his kids.

INITIATE CELLULAR REINTEGRATION.

Especially now with this new father-in-law as his competition. This guy could have Emily all to himself as far as he was concerned, but he wasn't there to pay for everything his little girls needed. The diapers, the toys, the braces. He wasn't the one there for every recital, soccer game, and graduation. He wasn't the one that rushed Mary to the hospital when she had the 104 degree fever and he wasn't the one who begged to God to take that fever away from his precious baby girl and give it to him.

REINTEGRATION COMPLETE IN ONE MINUTE. COMMENCE NEUROLOGICAL SHUTDOWN.

The burning sensation was now a violent internal conflagration. The jarring impact of his cab crashing into a lamppost went completely unnoticed as Larry's organs began to liquefy and shrivel, one right after the other. He felt his lungs close up, obliterating his ability to breathe, his heart violently constricting, and his mind frying within its own neurochemicals. He tried to scream, but discovered that he had forgotten how.

NEUROLOGICAL SHUTDOWN IN 5. . .

4. . .

3. . .

2. . .

1. . .

_Jessica. . . Mary. . . I need to see you_.

TECHNO-ORGANIC TRANSFIGURATION COMPLETE. OMAC DESIGNATE 472589, AVOID CIVILIAN CONTACT AND RENDEZVOUS WITH SECTOR UNITS TO AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

The construct formerly known as Larry Robinson, divorcee father of two, rose through the roof of his vehicle at a speed of just under Mach 2. With a sleek magnificence that put the most regal of falcons to shame, the OMAC continued to rise higher and higher. As it breached the Earth's ionosphere, the construct's stealth technology activated automatically, rendering it invisible to nearly every satellite lens in existence. It joined the hundreds and hundreds of constructs drifting about in deep space that was so far yet so close from the planet of their origin. The construct that was once Larry Robinson was now part of a unified army with the power to wipe out every living creature on the planet.

OPERATION HUMAN LIBERATION INITIATED. SELECTED TARGET ACQUIRED: SUBJECT ALPHA, BROWN, STEPHANIE—ROBIN. LOCATION: GOTHAM CITY. EXTERMINATE SUBJECT.

Its' order processed and received, the OMAC descended towards its prey.

* * *

"Sure you don't want me to just fly alongside the Batplane? It seems kind of cramped with two people in here."

Batman gave his partner a baleful glance, growing quite perturbed by Stephanie's impatience. "I can see that our lessons in subtlety and subterfuge have yet to sink in, Robin."

"Well, can I at least pilot the Batplane?"

"As soon as I am dead and no longer have any valued possessions that you could possibly destroy with your piloting."

Stephanie rolled her eyes in typical teenager fashion and slumped back against her seat. "Sorry for feeling restless, but it's been a pretty slow night. I don't know. It's just ever since I got the ring I've really grown accustomed to feeling the wind on my face."

"So you've told me. It's a perfectly natural desire, particularly considering your confined and unstable upbringing. Your desire to fly stems upon your wish to immerse yourself within an environment that you can control and feel a sense of freedom in"

"Gee, boss. Leave it to you to take a perfectly fun and harmless activity and turn it into the subject matter of a depressing psych evaluation."

"Well, it has been a slow night."

Stephanie chuckled. It occurred to her that for all of Tim's smarts, there were a couple aspects about the man that her former boyfriend didn't really get right. Bruce did have a sense of humor; you just had to really dig for it. Push the right emotional triggers. Perhaps the most entertaining aspect of her last month as Robin had been her frequent attempts to discover just what made the Dark Knight smirk, smile, or cause him to do that weird cross between a frown and a glower, a sure sign that he was about to launch into an obnoxious speech about self-discipline and patience. Much to Stephanie's distress, she had garnered that last expression a great deal more frequently than the first two.

"Come to think of it, just where were you the other day when you said you had Jackoff League duties to attend to. I thought they kicked you out!"

_There you go, Steph. There's a well-earned Batman brand glower_.

"Stop calling them that, Robin. And for the record, I didn't get fired, I quit."

"Whatever. You're dodging."

Batman sighed deeply as he maneuvered the Batplane into a slow, right-side U-turn. "There was a service to commemorate the end of the Justice League. To say goodbye. I chose to attend the services."

"Because you actually wanted to be there or because you wanted to make sure nothing fishy was going to happen?" Stephanie got another Batman-model glare. "Well, excuse me for making an educated guess! I am the partner of the world's greatest detective here! Besides, I can't say as I blame you. They went in and played whack-a-mole with your brain. I still can't believe Hal and Miss Lance would be a part of something like that!"

"None of us are innocent in all that's happened with the Justice League, Stephanie. Hal and myself, especially."

Stephanie exhaled. It didn't take much for her to recognize that her boss was about to launch himself into another self-blame session. "All right. All right. Enough with the blame game. So what happened?"

The Batman hesitated. When it came to opening up to others, he was quite the novice. Still, he had made an agreement and he was going to honor it. Besides, it was either that or Robin would tell Alfred and then he would force him to honor it. "During the ceremony, tensions flared and accusations were thrown. We lapsed into the same arguments that broke is all apart in the first place. It reached a crescendo when Green Arrow insinuated I had something to do with the destruction of the Watchtower."

"The JLA headquarters on the moon? Um, didn't you help pay for building that thing?"

"Oliver has never been known for his ability to engage in deductive reasoning."

Stephanie shrugged. "So Green Arrow accused you of doing something you didn't do? What's the big deal?" Batman said nothing. Despite the silence, it took little time for Stephanie to put the pieces together. "Ooh. The whole crowd got ugly, didn't they?"

Batman's continued silence was all the reply Stephanie required.

"Um, okay. I'm not sayin' that you deserved that. Not sayin' you didn't deserve it either. The bottom line is that we all make mistakes and we've both made some big ones that I think we really need to work hard at to correct. I can't bring back the people that I got killed because of that war plan and you can't forget all the things that you said and did that pissed off everybody you know. However, I can help protect people. You can show to Tim and Nightwing and the rest that they can trust you. We can't let all the shit that happened in the past bog us down from going forward in the present! We've got to learn from our mistakes! Right?"

Batman remained silent. With an puckish smirk, Stephanie unbuckled her safety belt and leaned in so she and Batman were nearly eyeball-to-eyeball.

"Riiiiiiight?"

Batman grumbled. "Fine. Now get out of the way so I can see."

Pleased with her results, Stephanie decided to finally do what she was told. Batman set the Batplane into a slow climb, the sleek craft rising well above the mammoth office buildings and tenement brownstones of Gotham City.

"Look, I know Lloyd and I dogged you about the whole Brother Eye thing and things may be looking bad what with the whole Jackoff League thing bringing you down, but we can fix this if we just keep pluggin' away at it! Pretty soon, Nightwing and Tim and Oracle and everybody else will come back too!" Stephanie's devilish smile had returned. "And let me tell ya, you're not gonna see the last of me anytime soon!"

Batman gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you, Stephanie."

Stephanie snorted at the sincere gesture, using humor to blunt her appreciation. "Y'know, it's no good for your whole dark and dreary image if you start getting sentimental on me! Just don't worry so much about things. You know, 'hakuna matata!'"

A mystified Batman turned back towards her. "When did you learn to speak Swahili?"

An equally confused Robin looked back. "What do you mean? I'm just, um, _are you telling me you've never watched The Lion King!"_

ZZZRAAAK!

Batman would have been more than happy to inform his partner that he wouldn't be caught dead watching such tripe, but he had to make a hard, left-bank turn to keep from having the Batplane torn in two by a bright-blue plasma laser. Stephanie yelped as he sent the plane into a spiraling dive to dodge another shot that came so close to the right side of the plane that he could smell the ozone. His luck ran out on the third shot, which collided with the plane's left engine and left it in no position to run anywhere.

"It's an OMAC." Batman bit out. "Didn't your ring sense anything?"

"No. Didn't your radar see anything?"

The right engine was able to keep the plane aloft, but it wasn't nearly enough to be able to efficiently evade the attacking construct. "Brother Eye must have installed cloaking devices that shield it from radar." Those shots were meant to cripple the plane, not destroy it."

"Sounds neat," Stephanie quipped. "Any chance I can get one of those for my Christmas present?"

The construct had now taken to floating in front of the plane, as if it were waiting for the Dynamic Duo to make the first move. "Now this is interesting," Batman said, utterly ignoring his partner's gift wishes. "It's not out to kill us, only keep us from moving."

"You and I definitely have different definitions of the term 'interesting', B."

"Brother Eye's sole intention has been to kill meta-humans. As far as the reports have gone, they haven't harmed a single normal human."

Stephanie sighed, anxiously running a hand through her hair. "So it's after me then." After taking a bit of time to peruse her options, the contemplative look on her face hardened. She seemed to give that concept a brief moment of thought, bobbing her head in contemplation. "Do the plane's cameras still work?"

"Stephanie. . ."

Now it was Stephanie who was ignoring the entreaties of the person sitting next to them. "Well, even if they're not my ring can still record images." She hastily unbuckled herself from the passenger seat of the Batplane. "All right, let's give Trojan Man what he wants."

"Absolutely not, Robin. This plane has EMP deployment capability and is more than capable of dealing with this OMAC. I won't have you endangering yourself needlessly."

Robin fixed Batman's attention with a steely glare of determination. "Okay, I'm not an expert so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong but if you set off an EMP then it'll probably affect technology all over Gotham. Traffic lights shut down, electrical grids crippled, all sorts of other fun stuff. We can't take that kind of risk just to protect our own skins."

Try as he might, Batman couldn't quite disagree with his partner's logic.

Stephanie continued to plead her case. "Look! You said we needed information on how to fight these things, right? Well, we've got the OMAC, we've got the cameras, and I can do the fighting! I can take this guy, B! You have to trust me on this!"

Batman wanted to trust her. He truly did. A litany of voices began to ring inside his cortex. She was too young, too inexperienced, too brash and impulsive. He couldn't allow her to take on such a significant responsibility. He didn't want to see her hurt. He didn't want to be responsible for her getting hurt.

Batman stared into Stephanie's blue eyes. The young woman refused to break away from her determination, but he could see the anxiety and lingering bit of hope.

"If you get in trouble, I'm firing the pulse."

Stephanie's smile was glorious. "Then I'll make sure you don't have to."

Batman nodded. "Be careful."

Without another hint of warning, the cockpit door of the Batplane swung open. Stephanie allowed the raging wind to carry her for a split second before she fired her ring to life. Her body was once again enveloped in an eldritch husk of emerald as she floated closer towards the construct.

The OMAC soared upwards to meet its prey, who wore a jackal's grin as she climbed higher still, the young lady clearly reveling in the freedom of traveling through the open sky. The two of them came to a stop roughly 15,000 feet above sea level, high enough so as not to endanger the people of Gotham but low enough so that the Batplane's cameras would be able to clearly record the goings on from its more low-lying position.

The construct's automated voice was dull and flat. "TARGET ACQUIRED. SUBJECT ALPHA: BROWN, STEPHANIE—ROBIN."

Stephanie's voice was anything but. "Ooh. I'm an alpha subject! Does that mean I'm special?"

The construct ended the pre-battle chatter with a laser blast from its extravagantly large forearms. Stephanie weaved around the cannon fire, looking a great deal like a downhill skier avoiding the flags. She kept up this rather unorthodox display of defensive maneuvers until a well-targeted shot forced her to create a forcefield that saved her from what very well would have been a significant amount of pain.

Stephanie winced from the surprising amount of mental strain it took to protect herself from the OMAC's attack. "Apparently this guy doesn't believe in treading the water first," Stephanie noted as she fired a blast in return that harmlessly rattled off the construct's torso. "Then again, maybe it doesn't have to," she added with a note of concern. "Hey, B! Any chance you've gotten in touch with Lloyd?"

* * *

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Lloyd was having quite the good time as he watched his unfortunate victim take a long plunge off one of the less prominent Gotham City office complexes. He was quite amazed that all the racket his new "friend" had been making did not appeared to catch anyone's attention. After spending years in London, Hong Kong, Tokyo, and other major metropolitan centers, Lloyd believed that he had long grown use to the concept of big city cynicism. The people of Gotham, however, took it to a disturbing new level. Of course, if it allowed him to pull off stunts like this, who was he to complain?

He looked back down towards his screaming suspect. "All right, Theophilus. Up you go again. Don't want to scum up the sidewalk with your face, after all."

The unfortunate fellow was only less than a hundred feet above the ground as his flailing body began to slow down. Within moments, the man's momentum had come to a stop and he was being lifted upwards once again. It only took several seconds for the man to once again gaze into the cheerful eyes of his torturer. Soaking with sweat and reeking of excrement, the man fidgeted and prattled incessantly as Lloyd grabbed him by his royal-purple waistcoat, calmly held him over the edge of the rooftop.

"One makes you smaller. One makes you larger." The victim puffed rapidly. "Tweedledee! Tweedledee! OH, DEAR GOD! PLEASE HELP ME!"

"Now now, Tetch," Lloyd reminded his guinea pig. "You're not Tweedledee, you're The Mad Hatter, 'member? You've got the silly arse hat and everything. Well, rather, you _had_ the hat." Lloyd held Tetch in his left hand while he readjusted his newly acquired headgear with his right.

The criminal known as the Mad Hatter was far too scared to care about the status of his top hat. A former chemist with a penchant towards understanding the capabilities of the human mind, Jervis Tetch was yet another example of a genius who went round the bend and just decided that it was a good idea to just go out and terrorize innocent people (Lloyd couldn't help but notice that this personality profile fit a surprising number of the characters within Batman's gallery of rogues). Depending upon his varying levels of dementia and rationality, the Hatter's schemes could be as tame as mentally manipulating others into joining him in a tea party to armed robbery to unorganized murder. It all depended upon the whims of the man's exceedingly addled mind.

Despite his amusement, Lloyd couldn't hide his acknowledgment that Tetch was a bit player in the grand scheme of things. The only reason the young man had gone after him was because there were no better options available when it came to gathering information about the Society. All the more likely suspects were either fully integrated into the Society or were already in Arkham or Blackgate. Although the Society had apparently pitched their metaphorical tent in Gotham, it was quite clear that the organization had little interest in recruiting the town's more dangerous citizens.

Still, Lloyd had banked upon the possibility that Tetch's unique knowledge of hypnotic suggestion and neurochemicals would have made him a potential person of value to the Society. However it was becoming more likely that he had once again been barking up the wrong tree. Still, he had nabbed another wanted fugitive. It was good to look on the bright side of things, after all.

"I've got to warn you, Hatter," Lloyd drawled. "Last time I tried this little human yo-yo trick the guy's head popped off on the third try. How many times has this been now?" Tetch cinched up horribly and Lloyd could have sworn that he saw some of the straw-blonde hair on Tetch's head begin to turn gray before his eyes. "Two, wannit? Ah well, maybe you'll get lucky. Before that though, don't 'spose you got a bit of gossip fer me, huh? Maybe pertainin' the Society?"

Lloyd sighed irritably as Tetch's eyes rolled backwards and his body went limp. The young man's irritation only magnified when a telepathic scan revealed that Tetch hadn't had the slightest bit of contact with the Society. All that was left was to take the unconscious, foul-smelling dead end over to Arkham and ring up Bruce to see if he had any better ideas to spend his time.

First though, he had to deal with the idiots who thought that they could sneak up on a telepath.

"The Mad Hatter?" The first man's voice was drenched with sarcasm. "I knew old man Wayne was starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel, but this is ridiculous."

As Lloyd turned to respond to the verbal poke, his first look at the man made him nearly believe that he had stepped inside some kind of alternate dimension that enabled him to take a glimpse of Batman as he was twenty years ago. The man was an inch or two shorter, about 25 or 30 pounds lighter, but everything else was the same. The short, black hair was fashioned just so to avoid being a detriment in a fight. His musculature was smooth and efficient and his face was set in that ridiculous smirk that Bruce would use when he found something to be funny but didn't want to break character by laughing outright.

"Don't feel too bad, J.T.," Lloyd fired back. "We were going to get to you soon enough. You're right below the Ventriloquist, Maxie Zeus, and the Calendar Man on our little list. 'Til then, how about ya go back to the hole you've been puttin' yourself in the last month and wiat your turn."

The Red Hood chuckled darkly, clearly unconvinced of his supposed unimportance. "So you know me? Well, at least that saves the trouble of making introductions. I've heard of you too, 'Black Dog'. The most feared of Mao Tenryu's assassins, they say. Can't imagine that looked too good on the application for Batman Inc."

"He gave me a second chance, Jason. I manage he's offerin' the same to you."

Jason scoffed at the notion. "No, thank you. I prefer doing my own thinking. You should probably think of doing the same. I assure you, ya spend enough time with the Bat trying to be Nightwing's replacement and you'll be so messed up in the head that you won't even be able to see the strings on your back."

"I'm not replacing anyone, mate. Oh, and by the way, if you're the poster boy of vigilante autonomy, I think we could all do with some puppet strings."

"Ah well," Jason replied calmly. "Can't say I didn't try to lend you a helping hand. Still, it's not like you're going to be alive for much longer anyway."

"Izzat right? Gonna put an end to me, are you? You and what army?"

Lloyd tried to act surprised as Jason's five companions made themselves known. With the exception of Slade Wilson, the crowd was largely unimpressive. First there was Mammoth, a tank of a man with mangy, dirty blonde hair and tree trunks for arms and legs. He assumed the goth chick with energy sparking from her pale fingertips must have been Mammoth's sister, Shimmer. He made a note to keep an eye on that one. With the possible exception of Deathstroke, she would be the biggest threat. The other two: Jinx, the bald-headed witch and Psimon, the telepath who apparently thought it was a good idea to walk around with the upper half of his skull sawed off, were not even worth regarding as far as the Brit was concerned.

"Allow me to reiterate, Jason. You, these five, and what army are going to get rid of me?"

Lloyd tried not to laugh as the members of the Fearsome Five all bristled at the insult. Slade, as Lloyd expected, did not rise to the bait.

"I trust you guys can take it from here while I deal with the dynamic duo?" Jason asked as he turned to Deathstroke.

"You're free to do as you will, Mr. Todd. If you value your physical safety, don't attempt to contact me again."

Although he was quite the braggart, Jason was not nearly foolish enough to attempt to challenge the assassin's threat. The young man put himself into motion, soon leaping from rooftop to rooftop dashing off to parts unknown. For a moment, Lloyd had considered dropping the façade of being cornered and teleporting after Batman's former charge. However, he trusted that Bats was more than capable of handling the little punk and chose to remain where he was. After all, this was the first time he had encountered genuine members of the Society and it would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to learn a bit of information, even if it meant possibly getting into a very satisfying scrap with some wankers that needed a good thrashing.

Lloyd chalked that up to the burden of being on the side of angels.

"Deathstroke, it's an honor." Lloyd said honestly.

"The feeling is mutual, Black Dog." Slade's reply was equally sincere.

"You're not gonna try and talk me to death like everybody else, are ya?"

"Not at all. We're both professionals, Mister Thomas. As such, we are both well aware of what is about to happen next."

Slade turned to his four lackeys. The present members of the Fearsome Five were staring at the Black Dog much in the way a platoon of wildebeests would behave while surrounding a wounded lion. There was no grace, no style or elegance, but merely a hungry look brought upon by the possibility of pain and suffering.

"Kill him," Slade ordered.

The four murderers didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

"And Ali has Foreman wobbling. Constant lefts and rights hitting the champ-e-on."

Batman winced as his partner launched into a horribly maligned impersonation of Howard Cosell. Although things had looked a little shaky for Robin at the outset of the battle, things now appeared to be well in hand. Choosing to change her tactics, Stephanie went from trading energy blasts to using her ring to amplify her strength and speed. As Robin brought the fight to closer quarters and turned it into a hand-to-hand affair, it became quite clear that the construct was not capable of keeping up. While the OMAC attacked with slow, brutal strikes, Stephanie constantly used the construct's momentum against it, making certain to avoid the OMAC's initial attack before launching multiple strikes in return.

He could hear his communicator buzzing as Stephanie landed a double-footed somersault kick that sent the OMAC into the clouds. Anticipating either Alfred or Lloyd, Batman responded immediately to the summons, rerouting the communication to the Batplane's speakers so he could leave both an anxious ear and eye out for Robin.

"Batman, this is Dinah. Do you have a secure line available?"

The voice was pleasant, but the sound of it caused Batman to growl in profound irritation. Dinah. As in Dinah Lance. As in the crime-fighter known as the Black Canary, Oracle's longtime partner and current member of the Birds of Prey. Most importantly, however, she was one of the seven Justice League members that had voted to have Zatanna toy with his mind, erasing the memories of an incident that provided the Society with both the motivation and the platform to successfully recruit hundreds of super-villians.

Batman wasn't certain if he would have called the woman a friend before he discovered all of this, but damn it, he had respected her.

"Yes, Canary. I make it a point to protect myself from things that could endanger the safety of myself or the people I choose to associate myself with."

Batman could hear Dinah's sharp intake of breath and took a small note of satisfaction from it despite himself. He knew Dinah to be quite subject to the whim of her own emotions and was all too ready to capitalize on that weakness.

"And a hardy hello to you too, Bruce."

Ah, yes. Insulting his manners. Dinah may have had a charming knack to it than many others, but Batman knew to recognize it as the protocol measure that his fellow heroes would employ just before they were about to ask him for help. He could feel the satisfaction and good will he had garnered from the last month of hard, yet fruitful labor quickly seeping away.

"I don't recall wishing to speak with you, Dinah," he bit back.

"_Don't recall_!" Dinah was clearly fuming. "Aargh! Okay, okay. Breathe in. Going the wrong way with this. Okey dokey, second attempt time."

Batman turned his attention towards Stephanie, who was using her ring to create an extravagantly large pair of claws that extended from her fists. After spouting some garbage along the lines of being the best there is and what she did, she charged at the OMAC again.

"First off, I just want to apologize for what Ollie said at the memorial. It's been a rough couple of months for everybody and we've all been on edge, but he didn't have any right to accuse you."

"Still cleaning up after Oliver's messes, I see."

Batman could almost hear Dinah's back teeth digging into each other. Mentioning Green Arrow's numerous responsibility-based miscues was another good way to press Dinah's buttons. "All right, all right. I'll give you that one, but there's another reason I needed to talk to you. Ollie and I are driving into Gotham right now and I wanted to give you a heads up out of courtesy."

Batman looked on as Stephanie delivered a stiff kick to the side of the OMAC's neck. It didn't take a great deal of creativity to visualize the fallacy that the construct had somehow grown blonde hair, a green hat, and a ridiculous goatee, but he managed to pull it off.

"I told you and Oracle to stay out of my town. If I never got around to doing so, please tell Green Arrow that the invitation revoke applies to him as well."

Dinah groaned as Batman overheard Ollie's profanity-laced reply. "As much as I'd like to despite your gesture of good will," she replied, "a mutual friend of ours is in a lot of trouble. This is both personal business and JLA business."

"Allow me to remind you that I don't want either of those enterprises in Gotham."

"ALL RIGHT! THAT'S IT!" Batman heard the squealing of tires against a road and a muffled, 'Jesus, Pretty Bird!' from an obviously agitated Oliver Queen. "Now you listen to me, you holier-than-thou emotional eunuch! Somebody's life is in danger and I don't have the time or the proper equipment for a territorial pissing contest so I'm just going to say what I should have said a long time ago! I'm sorry for what we did to you. I can't speak for Ollie or Carter or Zatanna but I'm sorry. What we did to you was the most despicable thing I've ever been a part of. We took something from your mind against your will and the mere fact that I could keep this from you and still manage to look you in the eyes all these years makes me sick to my stomach."

Both Batman and the Black Canary were silent for a moment. Stephanie launched into a bawdy rendition of "I'm Henry the Eighth, I Am" as she celebrated her victory against the OMAC.

Dinah spoke again, her voice still strong and firm. "If you can't forgive me, that's fine. I don't need another a hypocritical, moody perfectionist in my life. I've already got Oracle! However, the fact remains that there are innocent people in danger and our arguing isn't going to change that."

"Who?"

Dinah was stymied by the sudden inquiry. "Wha huh?" she half-mumbled. "Ah, shit. Yeah, um, you mean the kidnapper or the kidnapee?"

"Both," Batman replied.

"It's The Key, Bruce. He managed to escape from Arkham and he's taken Manitou Raven. And from what we've been able to suss out, I think he's trying to use Raven's powers to get at the town he was imprisoned in."


	9. Crowded Dance Card

Issue #9

Crowded Dance Card

"Lloyd? We have a situation brewing. What's your status?"

Lloyd fired a blast of energy that knocked the colossal Mammoth off his feet and sent him crashing into Jinx. As Shimmer attempted to use her talents in elemental manipulation to turn his blood into motor oil, Lloyd took some time to decide the proper wording to describe his status. As he used his telekinesis to send Shimmer tumbling to the ground and went to deal with Psimon's third attempt to hack into his mind in the last 50 seconds, he thought he found it.

"I'm currently in a situation. Can't say for sure but it might be the same situation as yours. What's going on?"

The forcefulness in Batman's speech intensified. "Is it The Key?"

Lloyd was utterly bamboozled as he felt Shimmer's efforts to turn the acids in his stomach lining to blood. Still busy tangling with Psimon's telekinetic assault, Lloyd teleported behind Shimmer and used a fraction of his strength to give her a chop to the back of the neck that briefly cut the flow of blood to her brain. The attack was enough to knock her unconscious and cause Mammoth to scream at him incoherently and swear bloody revenge before blindly charging him again. _Sod it all, these muscleheads get awfully repetitive_.

"Only keys I know about are the ones in me pocket, guv. Deathstroke and his little gang found me." He leaped over another hex from Jinx, an evasive maneuver that also allowed him to avoid Mammoth's charge as well. "'Pears your boy Jason Todd has sided with 'em."

Even over the clamor of the battlefield, Lloyd could hear the Batman's anger and disappointment through his words. "Do you need any assistance?"

"Don't worry about me, mate. If what you got goin' on is a pressin' concern, then I can deal with this 'ere. I'd be keepin' an eye out for Jason though. Looks like the reason he cut a deal with the Society was to get some alone time with you."

Another voice broke into the line. "Hey, Lloyd! Is that you? I haven't heard from you all night! What's up?"

Lloyd smirked as he pictured the frustration on Batman's face as a result of Stephanie's sudden intrusion. "Well, Tweety. I _have_ been tryin' to do some recon work. Pardon me for wantin' a bit of quiet. How's your night been?" He blocked another of Jinx's hexes while waiting for Robin's reply.

"I just got us an OMAC!" Robin said gaily. "All gift wrapped and everything! I tried to gussy it up but the Steinmart I went to didn't have any of that ribbon I like."

"Sorry to here that, Steph." Lloyd's counter-hex succeeded in overwhelming Jinx's defenses, the force of the mystic energy more than sufficient enough to put the exotic mystic out of the fight. "I'm busy beatin' up the Fearsome Five."

Stephanie responded with an indignant huff. "God damn it! Why are you always trying to upstage me!"

Psimon decided to switch tactics, opting to use his telekinesis to hurl a variety of bricks, mortar, and piping at Lloyd's head with impressive velocity. Lloyd's precise blasting of said objects before they came even close to striking him was even more impressive. "Naw, I think you've got me beat tonight, pet. Have we found out anything yet about the constructs?"

"Oh, nothing really," Stephanie fired back. "Except for the fact that these things are human."

That surprised Lloyd, or at least it was far more interesting than the fight he was currently engaged in. "Well, stone my crows then."

"They're not entirely human, actually," Batman was quick to break in. "Preliminary examinations seem to indicate that the constructs were not born or created as an OMAC. The external armor appears to be like a parasite that appears to be viral in nature. The parasite invades a human and spreads its influence until it can take over its' host."

"Which is why electro-magnetic pulses worked so well for the other good guys that have been fighting the constructs," Stephanie added. "Since the OMAC is like some kind of technowhatsis virus, the EMP interfered with the OMAC, not the human host."

"It's a _techno-organic _virus, Robin." Batman said gratingly. "If you're going to parrot the conclusion I made five minutes ago, at least be able to get the wording right. Perhaps the effects of the virus are gradual, perhaps it is activated by a signal or trigger sent by Brother Eye. Either way, we still have little idea as to how the process originated or how we're supposed to prevent it from happening."

"Sounds pretty good to me, boss man. So, if the OMAC is a virus, then there's a chance we could remove it." Lloyd caught a straight jab from Mammoth and slung the big man down with an over-the-shoulder takedown. The maneuver placed the hirsute brawler in a seated position, giving Lloyd an ample opportunity to punt Mammoth off the rooftop as if he were a football. "Maybe even restore the people infected to normal, yeah?"

"That is a possibility," Batman replied. "Bear in mind, however, that we're still working with a great deal of speculation and theory. This will require experimentation. Also, even if we do find some cure, we must still eliminate the source of the virus."

"Which means we need to take out Brother Eye," Stephanie said, wisely using her own words to contribute to the exchange of ideas. "Which, in case of those of you playing at home, is kind of a difficult thing to do when you don't know where it is!"

"Certainly is a lot to think about." Lloyd replied. "Ack! Hold on a mo'. Psimon's trying to get into me gray matter again." The Brit turned towards the telepath with a perturbed look in his hazel eyes. "Would you stop that, you pillock! That didn't work the last four times! What the bugger makes you think it's gonna work now?" Lloyd extended his right index finger as he murmured a small incantation that caused a bolt of electricity to fly from the extended digit. Three-tenths of a second and ten thousand volts later, Simon Jones joined Jinx and Shimmer on the Fearsome Five disabled list.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Lloyd?" asked Stephanie.

"No, I've got this under control. So what's our plan here?"

"We're going to have to split up," Batman concluded. "I recognize that the situation may be very unsafe, but there's too much at risk right now to play it safely. Robin, you're taking the OMAC to Waynetech. If the construct is a technoorganic entity, then we should be able to keep it in stasis and available for further study with the proper electronic frequency."

"What about the Key?" asked Robin. "Didn't Black Canary say that he was planning to put a hurting on Gotham?"

"Lloyd, you need to finish your run-in with the Society as quickly as you can. If you're capable of capturing a member of the Society, find a stable place to stow the prisoner away so we can interrogate them later. Once that's done, contact me again and I'll inform you of Black Canary's position. I'll. . ."

"Go after Jason Todd." Lloyd and Stephanie both droned. Batman didn't feel the need to explain his future activities any further.

Lloyd sighed as he heard the distinct sound of Mammoth leaping his way onto fire escapes in order to get back to the rooftop.

"Righty-o, Black Dog out." Lloyd shut off his communicator. "Now, what was I doin'?" A blood-curdling roar from Mammoth gave him the answer. Strange as it may seem, it appeared that the fellow didn't really like being drop-kicked off the side of a building. Seeing that his other three more dangerous opponents remained incapacitated, he decided it was time to deal with the small fry. "Sit, puppy."

Lloyd's telepathic blitzkrieg of the mind of Baran Flinders was met with little resistance. For all the physical damage he could weather and administer, Mammoth was a neurological marshmallow. With Psimon no longer able to defend his compatriot, Mammoth was left with little else but to get a glassy look in his eyes before crashing to the ground. With the fight now emphatically over, Lloyd surveyed his work with an almost contemptuous manner.

"Pathetic," he said derisively. "I'm expecting a world-class hit squad to be comin' after me and instead I get the Fearsome Five. Bloody buggerin' hell, you'd think I was a soddin' Teen Titan."

Lloyd turned around to see Deathstroke still calmly sitting at the edge of the rooftop. He didn't look the least bit disturbed by the fact that his back-up had been unceremoniously pummeled in a matter of several minutes. In fact, he seemed downright pleased with the results, so much so that the man actually began to applaud. For the first time since the fight began, Lloyd began to become mildly worried. A quick scan of Psimon's well-developed, but currently defenseless mind had revealed that the Fearsome Five were nothing but foot soldiers. If he was going to get any good answers, Lloyd knew he'd have to go for a more, _distinguished _target.

Slade ceased his applause and appreciation. "That, young man, was just a joy to watch. Yes, it's been a good, long time since I've seen somebody who actually knew what they were doing in a fight besides me. God, most of the time with these capes it's just catch-phrases and throwing whatever they can at you. There's no working strategy, grace, or subtlety to anything they do. See, this is why I've always enjoyed fightin' Wayne and his flunkies. They may not have any convoluted powers but at least they know how to defend themselves."

Lloyd remained silent, his attempts to hack into Slade's mind meeting an unexpected resistance. It was obvious that the assassin was employing some kind of telepathic dampening agents, but Lloyd knew that he could break it if he could keep working at it. _Just keep pickin' away at it_. _Keep 'im talking_.

"You're welcome to show me your own wares, Deathstroke. Step right up, one eye."

"No, thank you," Slade replied. "Unlike these clowns, I'm well aware of your capabilities and we both know good and hell well who would win if we threw down. You've got a whole lot of speed and power and you certainly know what you're doing when it comes to energy manipulation. If I'm going to bring you down, it's obvious that I'm going to need a great deal more firepower than I currently have available to me."

"Not very smart to just tromp right in to a losing situation."

"If your intention is to teach some prideful children a necessary and very gratifying lesson in humility, then it is quite intelligent to do just that. Besides, this was nothing more than a preliminary assessment. I assure you that you won't be leaving hale or hearty the next time we meet. I've come here to complete my contract and you're one of the three people on my hit list."

Lloyd snorted. "I love how you're talking as if I'm going to just let you walk."

"Oh, but I am Mister Thomas. Now, if you'll excuse me, but I don't think I'll be having you hack into my mind tonight. My thanks for the demonstration."

Before Lloyd could properly identify the electronic signal, Slade's teleportation beam was already well on its way towards shuffling him off to wherever he wished to be. Looking around the rooftop, Lloyd realized that the Fearsome Five had been pulled right along with him. Now, for all his efforts, Lloyd was left with nothing more than a mumbling and quivering Jervis Tetch.

"God bleedin' damn it."

* * *

"I'd like to point out that I think this is a bad idea."

"Your opinion is duly noted and simultaneously ignored," Batman replied. "I've given you security access to Vault 8 of Waynetech's experimental science department. You will rendezvous with Lucius Fox and deliver the construct to that location so it can be contained and examined. Are you having any problems restraining the construct?"

"No problems here," Robin replied. "My ring is telling me that its' pulse is steady but it isn't breathing. Is that even possible?"

"Not for prolonged periods of time. Of course, we're still working under the assumption that these constructs mirror the vulnerabilities of humans."

Robin blew out a breath. "Jesus, B. What did these Checkmate assholes do to these poor people?"

"Only time will tell, Robin, and you've given us an opportunity to find out. If we can examine a multitude of subjects, perhaps we can find some linking trait or common activity between them that may lead to learning more about their development."

"Personally, I'd like to know what was going through the head of this Max Lord guy. Didn't you work with him back in the day?"

"Yes, if 'back in the day' means five years ago. And I wouldn't say work with as much as I would say clash constantly." Stephanie hmmed, indicating she would like to hear more. "Maxwell and I always adopted different approaches when it came to league affairs. As much as our philosophies disagreed with one another however, I held no real hatred for him and I believed that his intentions were good, if not necessarily noble."

"You, the Blue Beetle, Guy Gardner, Miss Lance, Martian Manhunter. I liked that Justice League," Robin said wistfully.

Batman chuckled, grudgingly and only for the briefest of moments. "Believe it or not, so did I. I could have done without Guy, however." Stephanie sniggered at the mention of the scurrilous, yet quite dependable Green Lantern Corps captain. "Still, the pieces don't fit."

"Pardon, boss?"

"Max may have been a meta-human, but first and foremost he was a businessman. An opportunist. He wouldn't settle for one deal when he could work five. That was the driving force for both his methodology and his success in the world of business. For him, meta-humans were a useful commodity that he could employ to advance his own goals. It doesn't make sense why he would orchestrate an operation that centered around the elimination of meta-humans like himself?"

"Well, you _did_ say he was an opportunist. Maybe he had something to gain from doing it."

"That's a possibility," Batman acknowledged, "but it's an unlikely one. Max had a great many loathsome qualities, but capacity for murder wasn't one of them and the OMAC Project is nothing less than a highly organized attempt to perform genocide. So, either Max underwent a very disturbing and highly unlikely epiphany. . ."

"Or this guy was a patsy." Robin concluded. "Well, if that's true, do you have any idea who's calling the shots?"

"It could be any number of people, Robin. The only real qualification necessary is having the foresight and intelligence to recognize that the shady dealings of a high-ranking government official are prone to investigations that can easily lead to open accusations that may very well only succeed in endangering innocent people. Besides, it may very well be that Max was indeed acting on his own accord. Max's unique powers of persuasion would make him a difficult target to control."

"Which is why he would be a good person _to_ control!" Stephanie fired back. "After all, who would suspect a puppet master of being a puppet?"

Batman nodded in approval. "Congratulations, Robin. You're starting to use your brain." Although she was miles away, Batman knew that Stephanie was smiling. After all, Robin wasn't the only person in this partnership who was actively looking for cues and triggers. The detective had hoped that the kind words would quell her current uneasiness and subsequent questioning.

"I still don't think this is a good idea."

He should have known better.

"I mean, Lloyd said that Jason was working with people from the Society, right? As in the guys that are trying to put our heads on a platter. What if this Deathstroke guy has more people than the guys Lloyd beat up? And even if it is just between you and Jason, what makes you think he's gonna give you a fair fight?"

"Because I know how his mind works, Robin. The chemicals of the Lazarus Pit may bring madness to those who are afflicted by them, but the person's intentions and ideals remain intact. In fact, the pit seems to intensify these feelings and convictions to the point where the person pursues them without stopping to imagine the consequences of their actions. Ra's Al-Ghul wished to cleanse the world but would have gladly chosen to blight it in a horrendous manner to do so and ever since he came to Gotham, it has been Jason's greatest desire to show to me that he was the superior crime fighter, that his ways and means were more efficient than my own. In his mind, the only way that he can prove this both to me and to himself is to defeat me with his own two hands."

"Well, please excuse me but that little deduction simply scares the bejeebus out of me and I just can't really trust the intentions of a gun-toting, murderous psychopath." Stephanie almost seemed to be pleading now. "Why don't you just let me go with you, if only to watch your back and get you out of there if it's a trap?"

"You have your orders, Robin. Make certain that the construct is secured and then rendezvous with Lloyd."

"But. . ."

"Batman out."

Batman killed the communications link-up without another word. After saying several highly unladylike words, Stephanie used her ring to pick up her flight velocity. She had been flying rather slowly until now, focusing more upon her conversation with Bruce and making certain that the construct remained firmly in the ring's control. Batman's words, however, had spurned her to pick up speed until she was a streak of green light that streaked into Waynetech in moments.

It didn't take long at all for the young lady to slice through the metaphorical red tape and make certain that the construct was placed where Batman had wanted it. Lucius wasn't there personally, but the third-shift relief that had worked with her during the Clayface epidemic a couple weeks back seemed to be happy to see her. Stephanie was usually a pretty chatty person, but she kept her statements short and not-to-sweet as she kept the construct in stasis until Waynetech was ready with their equipment. All and all, she was in and out in less than 30 minutes.

_I'm probably worrying too much_, she thought. She was too anxious to remember the advice she gave to Bruce in the Batplane only an hour ago_. After all, he was Batman_. _He's taken on the worst of the worst. He's not going to lose to some bipolar wannabe with asylum-caliber abandonment issues. _

_Besides, maybe Lloyd was wrong. Maybe Jason wasn't looking for him. And Gotham was a big town. The three of them had looked under every rock, trashcan, cheap apartment complex, penthouse and portable crapper for Jason in the last three weeks and found nothing. Maybe they simply wouldn't run into each other? Weirder things had happened._

_I should stop worrying about this._

_Yeah, that's gonna happen_.

As if to punctuate her qualms, Stephanie saw a bright beam of light pierce the overcast night skies of Gotham City. Fairly certain that the planet Earth had not, in fact, acquired a second moon, she quickly said her goodbyes and flew out of Waynetech to investigate.

Now, it had been a long time since she had last seen the Batsignal, but she could remember what it should have looked like. When she was a kid and there wasn't anything better to do, she would sneak up to the rooftops and see if she could spot it in the sky before her mother found her and dragged her to bed. All that being said, she remembered the reflected light to be clear and unflawed, not the cracked, splintered image that assaulted her eyes.

Stephanie presumed that the message was the bat had been broken.

"Sheesh, Jason. And people say I'm unoriginal."

* * *

At the age of 11, Oliver Queen and his parents were aboard the family private jet as it crashed into the Pacific Ocean several hundred miles from the California shoreline. Young Oliver had been the only survivor of the crash and his panicked swimming through the choppy waters of the Pacific had eventually brought him to an island that had long since been deserted by man. For the next five years, as he fought to survive through his own devices, he often fought the solitude by dreaming of his childhood heroes. There were many to choose from, but the most popular of these figures was Robin Hood. After all, it wasn't just for survival's sake that Ollie had chosen to use a bow-and-arrow in order to hunt for food. Night after night he would dream of righting wrongs, basking in the deserved adulation of the people he would save, and protecting the innocent (particularly if the innocent was a pretty lady).

He didn't recall dreaming about tromping through the sewers of Gotham City and nearly getting killed by robots. He would have remembered something like that.

And yet, here he was. Slogging through a nauseating hodgepodge of liquids and solids that sported every sickening smell well under the rainbow. _Dear God, please don't let that be a human arm I just stepped on_.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, there were other matters to focus his attention on. For starters, a robot was attempting to tear his ex-girlfriend in half. Apparently between escaping from Arkham Asylum (which, near as Ollie could tell, was about as easy to do as ordering a Happy Meal) and kidnapping Manitou Raven, the Key had managed to either befriend or steal a cybernetic bodyguard that was not only extremely dangerous, but quite courteous.

"I must apologize for all of this," said the robot as its left fist came dangerous close to caving Dinah's skull in, "However, I cannot allow you to interfere with my master's plan. He is under a great deal of stress right now and he shouldn't be bothered by the both of you."

"Nothing more refreshing than a good-mannered murdering machine," Dinah said as she leapt on top of the robot's right fist and leapt into the air with a graceful back flip, giving her some much-needed distance between her and their much stronger opponent. As Dinah twirled through the air, Ollie fired two more explosive arrows through the space she had occupied only moments before. Having fought alongside the blonde-haired songbird for years, Ollie was well aware of what she was planning to do with the extra space she had given herself. The explosions appeared to do little damage, but it had given the Black Canary enough time to land safely and take a deep breath.

"KREEEEEE!"

As far as short-distance weapons were concerned, you could do a lot worse than the Black Canary's Canary Cry. It was a high-pitched scream that could reach a volume level of nearly 400 decibels and could be employed either to assault electrical systems or to disable or disorient even the sternest of foes. If the sound waves were channeled properly, they could even become a powerful force of kinetic energy capable of turning solid-brick walls to grit.

Somebody should have told this to the robot, though, because it didn't seem to get the message. Ollie cursed as he yanked out another arrow from his quiver as Dinah intensified her cry, still hoping to overwhelm its defenses. The automaton responded by firing a blast that decimated the roofing above Dinah. The inevitable chain reaction soon sent hundreds of pounds of rubble tumbling straight down towards the Black Canary.

In the half-second between action, reaction, and result, Ollie's mind (which really was quite capable despite all the evidence to the contrary) was racing to find a solution. There was not enough time for Dinah to leap out of the way or to redirect her cry so she could defend herself from the downfall of brick and metal. Perhaps one of his explosive arrows could have cleared enough of the debris, but then he ran the significant risk of Dinah getting caught in the blast. Perhaps, if he had enough time, Ollie would have thought of the idea of having an absolute stranger swoop in, snatch Dinah, and pull her out of harm's way in the nick of time, but nobody was perfect.

"Well, um, hello there." Dinah said as she processed the fact that some kid had swept her up into his arms.

"'Ello." Lloyd couldn't help but notice that he was suddenly at a loss for words. Considering the fact that he had to keep up with Stephanie's constant chattering for the last month, that was no small feat.

He had a good defense though. It wasn't everyday that you met a woman as remarkable as Dinah Laurel Lance. With long blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a smile that could stop traffic, the woman known the world over as the Black Canary was one of the world's most familiar faces.

However, the beauty of the Black Canary was hardly limited to her physical appearance. She was considered to be one of the world's finest martial artists, garnering the respect of even the strictest fighting experts despite her pleasant appearance. However, perhaps the most impressive aspect of the woman was her jovial nature in the midst of an exceedingly public life that had been pockmarked with strife and tragedy. She had long been regarded as a voice of reason within a number of high-profile crime-fighting operations.

Simply put, she was 'a man's kind of woman,' as some of his old friends in London would say.

"Well then, thanks for the save there, young man. Mind putting me down though?"

Of course, she was also 15 years older than Lloyd.

While Lloyd tried not to think about what Bruce or Mao would say about this, Dinah swung herself away from his grip and brushed herself off. Before turning his attention to the matter at hand, Lloyd found he had to do a bit of brushing off of his own.

"You should not have interfered in this affair, sir. I am afraid that I must now also eliminate you as well."

Lloyd was sincerely reminded of Alfred as he examined the robot with a notable degree of curiosity. "Another bleedin' tinker toy. You'd think these bleedin' things grew on trees in this town."

The robot fired a shot from its arm cannon that took a direct course for Lloyd's chest. As Ollie and Dinah both shouted warnings, Lloyd yawned while swatting away the blast with the back of his right hand.

The other three participants observed this unlikely turn of events, each of them with very different responses.

_What the hell?_ That was Dinah.

_Oh, dear_. The robot.

_Dammmmmn_. Ollie.

By the time the robot had processed its predicament, Lloyd had already sliced it in two with his saber. Before it could formulate a plan to compensate for this recent turn of events, the robot had been sliced into four pieces. Then it really wasn't up for doing anything.

Sighing, Lloyd returned his blade to the scabbard strapped to his back. "Is everybody alright?"

Dinah nodded and gave him a hint of a smile.

Ollie was not smiling. "Well, not that I don't thank you for the timely rescue and trashing, but just exactly who the hell are you?"

"Oh, bloody hell. I'm sorry." Lloyd extended his hand towards Green Arrow. Name's Lloyd Thomas. Batman sent me to lend you a hand with the Key."

Ollie looked down towards the extended arm but made no efforts to shake it. "Ooookay. Exactly _why_ should we believe you again?"

"You mean other than the fact that I just swooped in and saved your hide?"

"All right, all right, I'm stopping this train before it leaves the station," Dinah got between an advancing Ollie and a smirking Lloyd. "God, after all these years you'd think I'd eventually run into a male crime fighter that didn't have testosterone issues. Pleased to meet you, Lloyd. I'm Dinah Lance, the Black Canary."

Dinah warmly shook Lloyd's hand in Ollie's stead, an action that caused Ollie to give Lloyd an intense once over with an upturned eyebrow on the side. Lloyd was halfway towards calling the emerald archer on it, but something else had quickly grabbed a hold of his attention.

"Well, 's much as I'd like to keep goin' with the meet and greet, something else is takin' precedent."

"What the hell do you. . ."

A quintet of OMACs crashed through the sewer walls above them, their amber eyes shining intensely as the sprays of rubble and water rained impotently down on their frames.

"TARGET DESIGNATE—SUBJECT ALPHA, THOMAS, LLOYD. ELIMINATE."

"Bleedin' lovely," Lloyd grumbled. "How come Steph only has to deal with one but I get five?!"

* * *

As he swung towards Crime Alley, Jason Todd and the half-broken Batsignal, Batman found no real desire to exchange witty repartee with his former protégé. Over the course of his long crime-fighting career, he had often left that task to his partners or compatriots. To be frank, he had never really been comfortable with it. That was quite all right, however, because Jason seemed always ready and willing to say something.

"Well, I kill a bunch of drug dealers and I'm not even a blip on your radar. Shine your superhero symbol up in the sky though and I get your undivided attention. I tell you, old man, you could give supermodels lessons on vanity."

Batman's reply was a Batarang that broke through the spider-webbed glass plating of the Batsignal and smashed the halogen light that was casting his signal into the sky.

Even though the throw had missed Jason's hip by mere inches, the Red Hood hadn't even bothered to defend himself. "Apparently you're not too shabby in the aspect of melodrama either," Jason joked. "Now see? That was just downright antisocial! Do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go through to snatch this thing from the G.C.P.D.? Did you even take a moment out of your time to appreciate all that I had to do in order to make certain that we wouldn't be interrupted? Then again, acknowledging the accomplishments of your partners has never really been your strong suit, has it?"

For those with the proper eyes to view it, there are few things more brilliant to behold than a fight between two familiar opponents, foes who knew their opponent's techniques and tendencies nearly as well as they knew their own. It is like bearing witness to a physical game of chess, the two combatants attempting to think ten moves ahead, striking while simultaneously preparing for the counter that was bound to come their way. Despite Bruce's frustration and his anguish over what had become of his former student, a small, murky part of the back of his mind could not help but be impressed with how far Jason had advanced as a warrior, despite his many other faults.

It was Batman who struck first, ducking under a straight left jab and countering with a rising knee strike that was soon followed by a sidekick to the gut. The blows were fierce, but Jason's strength, determination, and body armor blunted the damage. As Jason recovered, Batman roared. "Why did you bring the Society into this? What happened to finishing me off on your own?"

Jason responded by wiping his lips and sniggering. "All the clues in the world and you still don't get it. This town already belongs to the Society. They've got every psycho, monster, and murderer trapped in a cage and they're almost ready to let 'em loose. Once they're through, there won't be a Gotham to protect. The only reason I joined them was because I wanted your blood before somebody else could get to it!"

Now it was Jason on the offensive, his superior speed allowing him to chip away at Batman's guard. He kept his attacks short but solid, his fast strikes preventing Batman from countering effectively. The Red Hood scored his first hits with a harsh, left hook to the jaw and an open palm strike that barely missed Batman's rib cage. Seeing an opening, the vigilante hurriedly reached for a curved dagger hidden in his belt compartment.

Jason rushed at Batman with the blade held forward, lashing out with viciously wide sideswipes. Batman managed to dodge the first two strikes, but he was too slow leaning to his right the third time around. The knife sliced into Batman's left bicep, drawing a small spurt of blood and a pained grunt from the older combatant. Smelling the blood in the water, Jason went for a killing blow, thrusting his blade towards the symbol of the bat on Bruce Wayne's chest. Batman caught Jason's arm well before he could reach his target and flung his younger opponent into a weathered brick wall.

Coughing in pain from the impact, Jason spat out a small dab of saliva mixed with blood. "Besides, it wasn't me that changed the rules. All I wanted was you, one-on-one! But then you had to go and bring Dog Boy and Birdbrain into the picture! I could've saved Gotham if you didn't decide to butt in like you ALWAYS DO!"

Jason charged at him once again, the dagger held at the forefront. "Now they're gonna get killed because you needed somebody new in your life to chastise. Some other nobody that you probably picked up off the street because you needed to brainwash somebody else for your ridiculous mission! Do you even care about the people that get hurt because of what you put them through? Do you even feel the slightest bit of responsibility?"

Perhaps Jason was so far gone in his rage that he just didn't realize that he had said something that he simply should not have said. Regardless of his emotional mindset, however, the moment the last question had been said, the fight was already over.

Jason Todd was no longer fighting a jaded, tired, forty-year-old detective but was instead being taught a lesson by a man who was perhaps the greatest martial artist on the planet. Disarming Jason with a flawlessly thrown batarang, Batman attacked his former charge with the precision of an expert surgeon: fast, powerful strikes one after the other that caused his cocky opponent to backpedal fiercely, trying desperately to keep up with attacks that employed a head-spinning number of variant fighting styles.

"I feel responsibility for many things, Jason."

Two Pi Qui Quan chops to the neck that were blocked only by sheer luck and instinct.

"I feel responsible whenever any of the people I care for are hurt."

A Wushu spinning kick that struck Jason in the side of the head.

"I have made many mistakes in my life and I feel the shame of those errors every day."

A well-placed Shotokan thrust kick that struck Jason squarely in the chin but still kept him standing.

"My one greatest mistake was the fact that I was unable to teach you to channel your rage before it devoured you."

Ducking under a right cross, Batman delivered a pair of swift body blows, one from each hand, before landing a left hook and a right uppercut to the head that sent Jason stumbling down onto the filthy gravel of Crime Alley.

"But I will no longer take responsibility over the mistakes you have made! I am tired of dealing with your issues!"

As the caped crusader advanced forward, Jason struggled to regain his senses as he gave out a strangled cough. "That's convenient."

He pulled out a gun.

"Because I'm through dealing with you altogether."

BLAM!


	10. Triptych Perspective

Issue #10

Triptych Perspective

Now, it was conceivable that B could have ducked. Maybe he could have pulled one of those weird Matrix moves where you bend over double and wave your hands around like an epileptic while somehow managing to not get hit by the hundreds of bullets that are flying at you.

Then again, I just can't picture Bruce in a black leather duster. Yeah, he wears a lot of black, both before and after Labor Day, but he just doesn't really have the right body frame for it. Maybe Lloyd had a point when he was talking about when he told me that Bruce should lose some of that muscle. Huh. I wonder if Lloyd has a duster?

Wait a minute. Where was I?

Ah, yes. Stopping that bullet.

I've used this ring for about five months now but my body still hasn't really adjusted to it yet. Kilowog once told me that the magic of the power ring can play tricks on your equilibrium, especially if you employed the more physical aspects of the ring's power, like he and I choose to do. I know it seems like I can be a pretty flamboyant person, but when it comes to fighting I like to keep things simple. I know that the ring is supposed to be this wonderful weapon that can produce 200-foot robots, gigantic laser cannons, and other phallic-shaped weaponry at a thought's notice, but I prefer a good left hook any day of the week. It just makes for a lot less hassle.

Forcefields are nice though. Like that shield I just threw up to shield Batman from the gun blast? Now that's what I call handy. How about the field I use to take Jason's gun away from him? Yeah, that's pretty sweet too.

Ah, here come the looks of surprise. Wow, Jason. You look like a shark when you gnash your teeth and get your eyes all wide like that. Not like one of those cool sharks on the nature specials though. More like one of those sharks in Finding Nemo that were trying to motivate themselves into being plant-eaters. Fish are friends, not food.

Yes, I realize I'm really getting off track here. Besides, it's time for the witty surprise entrance.

"Okay, J.T. If you're going to keep trying to use your toys to kill people, I'll just have to take them away!"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to mess around in other people's affairs, Steffie?"

He's got that scowl. The Nightwing scowl. Not the cool Nightwing who called me sprout and told me embarrassing stories about Tim. He's got the Batman-wannabe Nightwing scowl. The one that was so busy anguishing over Barbara Gordon's latest brush-off or fuming over his inadequacy issues that he didn't have the time to be nice to other people. He'd scowl whenever he wanted you to leave him alone and didn't want to waste the time and oxygen he would need to express it directly. Like father, like son.

"Oh, but I think this is my affair, old bean." I stand up quickly and leap down off the edge of the rooftop. I used to hate the whole rooftop thing. I thought if God had wanted us to swing from rooftops, he would have given us bigger forearms. The ring just makes it a whole heaping bag of good fun though. I land with a flip and a flourish, all nice and thrilling. After all, when you're a "cape", you gotta play up the dramatics.

"Don't you know that you've gotta go through the plucky underling before you take on the leader? Where's your sense of propriety? Besides, if you're trying to be the new Batman the least you should do is to learn more about your Robin."

Cue Batman's warning/threat.

"Get out of here, Stephanie." Right on time.

"Go to hell, you interfering bitch."

As much as I'd like to take the advice (Bruce's, not Jason's), I'm not about to let these two kill each other. I'm not going to give Jason the opportunity to kill one of the few people in this world who has ever given a damn about me and I won't let Bruce do something that I know he'll never let down. I have the power to intervene in this situation, and I'm damn well gonna use it.

I show them that power on my right index finger. "This is a power ring, fresh from Oa. It can create anything within the holder's imagination, it can augment your strength and speed a thousand fold, and it bequeaths me with the ability to kick both your asses seven days a week and twice on Sunday."

"How lovably cocky," Jason drawls his words out. I ignore him because he's an asshole.

"So here's what I propose, Jason. One-on-one, you against me. No ring, no fancy tools, no batarangs, no bombs, no knives. Just fists and feet. If you win, you and Bruce can go back to killing each other. If I win, you cease your war against Bruce and we sit down and try to figure all this out."

The look in Bruce's eyes is a mix of anger and concern that very few people can really pull off. B can pull it off though, and it makes me want to hug him and run away from him at the same time.

Jason's loud laughter keeps me still. "What makes you think I should believe you, little lady?" His derogatory tone reminds me of Oracle. "I'll give you a better one. Why should you believe me?"

"Because I've only been in contact with you for a couple of minutes and I already know that you're a lot more like Bruce than you care to realize. I'm banking on the fact that the only way I could ever prove to Bruce that I deserved to be Robin was when I showed him that I could hold my own. Bruce may not be able to get through to you, but I'm thinking that maybe I can."

"Stephanie, this isn't necessary."

"No, Bruce. It's very necessary. This isn't Joker or Two-Face or some random thug. This is your former partner! This is a guy whose goofy-ass short shorts are locked up in a glass case in the Batcave because you think that your failure to save him was your greatest mistake. Now it's high time that we sat down and talked about all this."

"This isn't your fight, Robin." I can feel that Batman doesn't want me to get hurt, that he values my safety. I let that assurance bolster me but I don't allow it to persuade me to stand down.

"SHE IS NOT ROBIN! She's nothing but a replacement!"

"Then prove it, J.T." Okay, that's not the wittiest retort I've ever come up with but come on, I'm working in uncharted waters here! Still, the look on Jason's face convinces me that I've persuaded half of my intended audience.

I turn back to Batman. "I can do this, Bruce. You've trusted me this much."

Right then it just hits me that Bruce Wayne, _Batman_, isn't sure about what he should do. Now that's scary no matter how you really look at it. He looks from me to Jason to me and then back to Jason again.

"How cute. You've made him emotional and indecisive."

Shut up, Jason.

"Be careful, Stephanie."

It takes a while for that statement to really sink in. Let me tell you, it's an odd feeling for somebody like me to have somebody who actually believes in them.

I think Tim loved me, at least a little bit, but I couldn't help but notice when we worked together that I was more of a pleasant distraction than a true partner. Oracle was nice enough to hate me outright, but Helena and Miss Lance tolerated me by lobbing funny jokes about my incompetence back and forth to one another. And believe me, no matter how many times Cass said that those nerve pinches didn't hurt, they would.

They _really_ would.

Ah, the hell with all of them. Bruce is stepping aside and Jason is putting himself in a fighting stance. It looks like Wing Chun but it's hard to tell. The old me, the girl who was still happy being Spoiler, always thought that there were too many damn stances and forms and hand movements to really keep track of. It's difficult for me, but I'll manage.

Batman believes that I can win. He believes that I'm worth a damn.

Jason Todd, you do not stand a chance.

* * *

Ollie activated the time delay on an explosive arrow and set it to the string. "Well, Pretty Bird. I'm not sure if this Lloyd guy is a good guy but I'm pretty damn sure those are bad guys."

"_Stop_."

Ollie turned his attention towards Dinah, thinking that she had given him the order. However, she hadn't said a word or moved a muscle. "What the hell?" he muttered.

"_Shut up!"_

"Ah, damn. I'm not hearing voices in my head again, am I?" Ollie said loudly as Dinah rushed to mute her ex-boyfriend. "I haven't even had any Nyquil this time!"

"_Bloody hell! Shut the hole in your face before I do it for you!"_

"_Ollie, please be quiet!" _Ollie distinctly heard Dinah's voice in his head that time. _"Um. . . this is a three-way mind link, isn't it_?"

"_Yes_," Lloyd thought back as he blocked another blast fired by one of the constructs. Stephanie was right on the money when she said these things could pack a punch. Of course, it didn't help the Black Dog that he had been corralled into a highly enclosed sewer passage _and_ he was trying to keep Black Canary and Green Arrow away from detection _and_ he was keeping up a mind link so they would know what he was doing. Still, as he told Bruce before, you couldn't make the job too easy on yourself.

There was a definite bright side to the current state of affairs. The constructs didn't appear to have a great deal to offer in terms of fighting ability. Apparently whoever developed them thought that the constructs' strength, speed, and durability were more than enough to allow these machinations to do what they needed to do. Also, Lloyd still had his blade, which appeared to be able to penetrate the external coating of the OMAC as simply as it would slice a piece of bread.

Of course, when you're fighting opponents that you only wish to incapacitate, a sword is probably not the most logical choice of weapon. That matter aside, Lloyd was managing to hold more than his own despite the many distractions.

"_Just who said you could go and muck about in my noggin like this_?" Ollie asked belligerently. As Lloyd sliced into one of the constructs' forearms with his blade, he began to understand why Batman didn't think very highly of Star City's resident archer.

"_Well, me conscience was tellin' me twas either that or let you two get sliced into superhero cold cuts._"

"_Lloyd, it's not like we're going to let you do this alone!"_

Lloyd was quite relieved when Dinah took it upon herself to speak up before Green Arrow could do so. "'_M not askin' ya to, Miss Lance_." Lloyd grabbed an OMAC by its thick, right forearm and swung him in a circle, using his newfound weapon to knock the other constructs away from him. With the other four constructs momentarily off their feet, Lloyd slowed his spinning and used his telekinesis to keep the other construct in a state of levitation several feet in the air. He leapt to meet it, striking with a spinning kick that sent it hurtling into two of the downed constructs. "_Y'know what these things are?_"

"_Yeah, they're called OMACs_. _They've been all over Metropolis_." Ollie replied.

"_Then you know that they're specifically programmed to hunt down meta-humans. According to Batman, they download collected data from Brother Eye upon making contact with a meta-human and adjust their defenses to their target's capabilities._"

"_Nice to know Batman's little play toy is being used well_." Ollie added brusquely.

"_That's enough, Ollie!" _Dinah shouted_. "What are you trying to say, Mr. Thomas?_"

"'_S Lloyd, luv. Right now, they're all programmed to take me on. Now, I'm capable of doing a lot of things to put these things down. Like this!" _Lloyd fired a blast of plasma energy to knock down three of the constructs as the other two charged at him. "_But there's one form of energy that isn't in my repertoire_."

Dinah was clever enough to get the picture. _"Just tell me when."_

Lloyd momentarily avoided the combined assault of the constructs before teleporting behind them.

The trap had been laid.

"NOW!"

"KREEEEEEEEEE!"

Completely unprepared for Dinah's Canary Cry, the constructs struggled to maintain their equilibrium, their technoorganic coating warping like rubber bands over an open flame. Ollie quickly added to the chaos with a sonic arrow that clearly put the constructs into a more exaggerated state of agony.

Amidst the bedlam, Lloyd used his magic to fashion a force shield around his two compatriots before beginning to channel the mysterious energy stored within his body. He felt the energy rising from the tips of his toes and coursing into his fingertips. He adjusted and controlled the burgeoning power, instinctively calculating and controlling his anticipated output to an almost infinitesimal degree before finally releasing it.

Safely shielded within their energy shell, Dinah and Ollie watched as the constructs seem to wither from the intensity of the concentrated blast of energy until the luminosity of the flare threatened to blind them. Though their struggle was unseen, the constructs continued to writhe and thrash about from the force of a creation far more dangerous and sinister than themselves. When Lloyd had cut the power to the flare only five seconds after he had released it, the former sky-blue husks of the constructs had dissipated. Only their human hosts appeared to remain, each of them clearly unconscious but seemingly none the worst for wear.

Lloyd, on the other hand, had certainly seen better days. Blood seemed to be gushing from his nose and small dribbles were leaking out of his mouth. His normally thin frame now seemed to be more skeletal in nature. Worried that he might keel over and take a header into the sewage below, Dinah rushed over to the boy's right side and slid under his shoulder to support him. Ollie was soon to follow on his left.

"Holy Hannah, kid!" Oliver exclaimed. "What did you do?"

Lloyd took several breathes before replying. "Would have been easier if I just blew up the town," he said with a mirthless grin. Not really up to directly answering the archer's question, he turned to Dinah. "Thought you didn't want me hands on you?"

Dinah gave the young man a smile that threatened to stop his heart. "After all that, just keep your hands away from anything suspicious and we're good."

"Look at this, Pretty Bird. These OMAC things are human!"

"Not quite," Lloyd croaked. "There's a heartbeat, but no sign of brainwave activity. Looks like Bats was right about the techno-organic virus bit."

"A virus? So what did your blast do? Did it just eliminate the virus?" asked Dinah.

"Don't really know," Lloyd replied. "All I was tryin' to do was to overload the virus while trying not to hurt the people. 'M not really sure if something like that _can _be killed."

"I've got a better question. How the hell did they not see that we were here?" Ollie added.

"When I couldn't sense any brainwave activity, I went with the idea that the constructs are essentially robotic in nature. Now, robots can be built for stuff like physical shielding and energy absorption, but robots and magic don't quite mix right. Stuff like telepathy and, in this case, an invisibility spell, is something they just can't figure out."

"Makes sense," Ollie said. "A computer can see or hear something, but they can't _feel_ it."

Satisfied with his own explanations, Lloyd started to wriggle himself free from Dinah's hold on him. Both Dinah and Ollie instinctively moved to support him but Lloyd held up a hand. "'S alright, mates. I heal quick. We got any idea where to find this Key fellow?"

"We've been following one of Raven's astral projections since Metropolis," Dinah replied.

That clearly surprised Lloyd. "Astral projection? That's odd. Figured I'd see somethin' like that."

"Apparently Raven's made it so that only Ollie can see it."

"See, Pretty Bird? I told you I'm good for somethin'."

"Yes, and once I figure out what that is I'll be happy to let you know."

Dinah's reply sounded downright caustic, but it only caused Ollie to smile with the roguish charm of a swashbuckler. "All right then. . . Lloyd was it? Well, you're not too bad for one of Batman's Hitler Youth. Follow me."

As Ollie walked off, Lloyd turned back to Dinah.

"Hitler Youth?"

"Don't ask me."

* * *

This little bitch is just in my way. That's all this is. One more obstacle, one more hurdle to leap, one final distraction that I have to endure before I claim my prize.

Yeah, maybe I had to ditch some of the brass rings. I don't have the manpower to take over Gotham City and it's too risky to break into Arkham just to get back at Laughing Boy, but damn it I'm gonna get the gold. And don't think I won't, old man. Just stand there with your insufferable little air of brooding and consternation, acting like you actually give a flying crap about this girl. You _should_ be worried, because I'm gonna break this little bird's neck right in front of your soulless eyes.

Damn it, she even fights like an impediment. Always blocking, always dodging, always yapping, never attacking outright, countering only when there was a significant opening. She knows how to fight defensively; I'll give her that.

It won't be good enough though. I'm the original. She's the pretender. She thinks she's Robin but the real Robin is dead.

And soon this fake one will join him, forming an amalgam of a repulsive symbol specifically designed to shine a light on a man who didn't deserve it.

I know why she talks and I know why she continuously spouts all this pop culture drivel. It's the same reason why I used to do it when I was in her shoes. It's so you could stomach the bottomless and unlikely cocktail of confidence and fear. Fear that this will be somebody's lucky night and you won't make it back home. Confidence that Batman would make sure that wouldn't happen, that he's trained you so well, prepared you so diligently, that you could get out of whatever was thrown at you.

But he won't get you out of it, little bird. He won't even care when somebody clips your wings or avenge the wrongs that will be done to you. I know it's a hard lesson to learn, Steffie, but who better to learn it from than somebody who experienced it first-hand?

I finally land my first good shot when she blocks a right hook and tries to counter with a left high kick. I grab her by the lower thigh and pivot so my back is facing her belly as I belt her across the face with my elbow. I hear her grunt in pain but to my surprise, she manages to squirm away before I can do any more damage. She's back on her feet in no time placing herself in a proper defensive stance. Smart girl.

Or maybe not so much. This kid has the moves, but she doesn't have the skill to use them all properly. She hasn't yet been able to mesh and mold them in order to create a style of fighting that is solely her own. At best, she's had maybe a couple years of training under her belt. I've spent five years learning from the people who taught your boss, young lady. I could've ended this fight in any number of ways. Do you even realize that or are you that green?

"Now really. Is that the best you've got?" Typical tough little girl talk. Doesn't faze me a bit. "I've seen Nightwing crap better moves than that."

Still doesn't faze me. Maybe my moves become a bit quicker, my strikes angrier, but it doesn't faze me. Even if she did, it doesn't matter. If I can go toe-to-toe with Bruce Wayne, there isn't any way this little suburbia castaway is going to do me in. She may be faster than I am, but I'm quick enough and strong enough to more than make up the difference.

She doesn't stand a chance.

* * *

I have to wonder where exactly she learned Hapkido.

It's an interesting choice, that's for certain. During her first tenure as Robin, Stephanie had the tendency to rush into situations, opting to put as much force as possible into her attacks and focusing her energy into attacking her opponent before they could. Now she was patient, waiting for her opponent to make a mistake and employing her opponent's momentum against them. It was the behavior of a disciplined fighter.

However, despite her new choice in tactics, she remains loud and abrasive. Her talking has taken on another purpose besides abating her own nervousness. She's employing her intimidation and taunting to goad her quarry into making mistakes.

I like to think that I played a part in this improvement.

If people could see what I was thinking, I imagine that most of them would wonder how I would allow myself to work under these lines of thinking. While two of my former students, my "black sheeps," beat the hell out of each other I am constructing new training exercises and augmenting patrol patterns. You are free to ask me why I would choose to think like this, but I can't guarantee a precise answer. Maybe there's a dark part of me that wants to see how far these two children have come. Maybe it's because I'm so damn tired of fighting the same fights with Jason time and time again that I'm willing to employ such a drastic means to understand what is going on in the mind of this angry, young man with the red domino mask.

Maybe I'm just trying to avoid the fact that Stephanie can't win this fight.

There's no doubt that Stephanie has improved by leaps and bounds, but Jason is nothing but brutal efficiency. Stephanie is resourceful, amazingly stubborn, and undeniably spirited, but she simply doesn't have the experience to counter Jason's many tricks and techniques.

I can almost feel the sting as Stephanie reels from the impact of a picture-perfect spinning backhand. I watch these two little children who came to me with broken wings and dreams of making something of themselves. They both wanted to show this bleak, chaotic world that they belonged. I thought I had lost the both of them; one to my greatest enemy and one to a person I considered to be one of my oldest friends, but now they both have returned from the grave. Both of them had come to me to show me that they could fly. One had come to stand beside me once again while the other had come to take my place.

Is this pain I feel: this agony of being unable to save Jason from what he's become, the anguish of seeing Stephanie in pain, the pain of a father? I'm supposed to be the world's greatest detective but I still can't quite figure this out.

One of Stephanie's flurries hit their mark. She dodges a right hook and follows up with two quick body blows and a palm strike that lands somewhere between Jason's windpipe and his heart. Jason stumbles backwards and I can't help but notice that a small part of me wants to cheer as Stephanie moves on the offensive.

No, this isn't quite like the pain of a father. Paternal instincts are rooted within it, let there be no question about that, but something else is going on here.

Over the past seven months, I have watched my friends and family walk out of my life citing one explanation or the other. When it all started to happen, I almost welcomed it. Perhaps that desire was rooted by some subconscious desire to return to my early days under the cape and cowl, a time when I still held the dewy patina of a man who believed he could change the world by flying around at night in a costume and righting wrongs. I thought that was a better time, but that thought only rang true because I had tricked myself into believing it to be true.

The fact of the matter was that I don't want to be alone. As much as I abhor Lloyd and Stephanie's ridiculous daily arguments over the breakfast table and how they meticulously criticize battle plans that I've worked on for days, I can't deny that I'm a great deal happier with all that chaos than without it. It's uncomfortable, unpredictable, and sometimes intolerable, but it's solely mine and nothing can take it away from me unless I allow it.

So as Jason regains the advantage, as he slowly whittles down Stephanie's defenses, I understand the source of this pain.

Punch. Block. Counter-punch. Block.

Stephanie's going to lose.

Kick. Duck. Counter-punch. Sway.

Jason may very well hurt her horribly.

WHAP!

And I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop myself from ripping Jason apart if he does so.

* * *

"This place is nothing but a reeking hellhole! A symbol of the waste of the haves and the degradation of the havenots! Let me tell you that if you want those right-wing corporate fascist fat cats up in Washington to see the price of good living? Well, how about draggin' 'em down to Gotham City where every ass-hole and parasite _is welcome_!"

"Really now, Ollie. You can't judge a town solely by its sewer."

Ollie would surely have had a snippy comeback for his former lover if he wasn't preoccupied with chasing down Manitou Raven's astral projection. Choosing to let Dinah's comment go unzinged, he continued to lead the way through the musty passageways with Dinah and Lloyd close behind.

Dinah turned to face Lloyd. The confrontation with the courteous killer robot and the constructs had left her feeling unusually chatty. Besides, it was either talking or continuing to acknowledge the fact that she would have to burn all the clothing she was wearing once she got home. "So you're working with Bruce now?"

"Goin' on a bout a month now, yeah." Lloyd replied, matching Dinah step for step.

"Shouldn't you be wearing a mask then? I thought that was sort of the dark-vigilante prerequisite."

Lloyd looked as if the mere thought of a mask was physically repugnant. "Sod that. 'M not famous, got no family, and I hate havin' shit round me eyes."

Dinah could understand that. "Oh, yeah. That's why I stopped wearing a mask. It's bad enough having to deal with all of this." She grabbed a lock of her dyed blonde hair.

"Can we table the discussion on proper superhero grooming until another time?" Ollie asked grouchily.

Dinah and Lloyd ignored him. After all, they had both taken guff from Batman about talking too much and that didn't stop either of them from saying what they felt like. Green Arrow would have had better luck muting an earthquake.

"Bear in mind that this is coming from the man who has sported the same goatee for the last ten years," Dinah quipped.

"Too right," Lloyd added with a smirk. "An' speaking of masks, who is supposed to be fooled by that little bandage around your eyes. Blind people?"

"All right, all right! Enough!" Ollie skidded to a stop; both because the pursuit had taken a different turn and the fact that he wanted to nip this conversation in the bud. "The raven just flew above ground. Raven and the Key must be up there. I'll go up first."

Ollie quickly made his way to a nearby steel ladder topped by a manhole cover. With a brief grunt of exertion, Ollie used his free hand to shove the steel plate aside and make his way to the surface.

Lloyd turned back to Dinah. "Sorry if this seems like a silly question, but just who is this Raven chit? How's she know Bruce?"

"Her real name is Manitou Dawn," Dinah replied. "She's only recently adopted her late husband's title. They both had a small stint with the Justice League about a year ago," Dinah replied as she and Lloyd both made their way to the ladder. "There had been some business about an Apache cult and some Atlantean ruins and apparently all the members of the Justice League died and then came back from the dead."

"Sounds complicated," Lloyd replied as Dinah put her left foot on the ladder.

"Yet another reason why I'd rather just stay in Gotham."

Lloyd, in a manner befitting of a good gentleman who did not want to be accused of staring at a very dangerous woman's backside, began climbing first. "An' why is Ollie so hung up about all this?"

Dinah sighed as she started climbing the ladder as well. "Ollie and Dawn's husband, the original Manitou Raven, were working on the same team. Apparently Dawn and Ollie had a bit of an extramarital tryst and the both of them are pretty wrought out because of it."

Now at the manhole cover, Lloyd turned around. "_Sorry, luv_."

Dinah blew a stray hair out of her eyes. _"Don't worry about it. Nothing I'm not used to anymore_."

Deciding to leave it at that, Lloyd joined Ollie on the surface.

The moment he emerged, Lloyd felt that something was wrong. He would have normally chalked it up to the fatigue from the fight with the constructs, but a niggling sensation told him that something else was awry. Now so close to the source, he could feel the telepathic interference given of by the Key and it only seemed to magnify the Black Dog's sense of unease. So, there were a number of reasons why Lloyd's senses had been dulled, if only for the briefest instant.

But that instant is often all that's needed.

"Green Arrow, GET DOWN!"

Lloyd saw the bullet coming, pinpointing the muted register of the gun and using his eyes to work his way from there. Perhaps he could have destroyed the shot before it reached its mark had he been at his full capacity, perhaps not. Instead, as he stepped into the path of the shot, all Lloyd could do was hope that he could minimize the casualties.

The explosive round detonated within the forcefield Lloyd had constructed around himself to protect Dinah and Ollie from the blast. His efforts to protect others, however, had left him to take the full brunt of the blast. The charge of a Thangaarian sniper rifle could atomize a normal man at such a range. Thankfully for him, Lloyd was quite a ways away from a normal man. Despite his hardy constitution, he could only dimly hear Dinah's scream and Ollie's shouting as he sailed through the air, completely unable to control his own trajectory as his limp frame was thrown from the blast. Lloyd didn't know whether it was brick, glass, or some other substance that he crashed through as he faded from consciousness, but it was safe to presume that it really didn't matter.

Dinah and Ollie looked up to see Slade Wilson standing on a rooftop, the still-smoking rifle in his hand. The battered, but still battle-ready members of the Fearsome Five stood with him.

"See, children," Slade said, not even bothering to hide his depreciatory timbre. "You have to have the right tool for the right job." Deathstroke gently placed the rifle down on the rooftop before pulling his blade out from the scabbard on his back. "Now, let's slice these other two to ribbons."

As the five Society members leapt off the rooftop to do battle, both Dinah and Ollie were quite aware that they were in trouble.

* * *

"I have to give you a bit of credit, little birdie," Jason said as he leapt over Stephanie's sweeping kick. "You're a lot tougher than I figured."

"Well, I keep telling you people not to underestimate me," Stephanie countered. Jason rushed at her once again, this time with a leaping kick that the younger Robin was able to roll away from with ease. She tried to counter the missed strike with a strike from her left hand aimed at Jason's neck. The Red Hood caught her arm in mid-swing, turning his block and spinning it into an armbar with astonishing speed.

"Don't worry," he said menacingly. "I won't anymore."

Stephanie growled like a rabid dog as Jason broke her left arm, the revolting snap of bone briefly echoing through the narrow confines of Crime Alley. Gritting her teeth and holding in a cry of agony, she used her free arm to elbow Jason once, twice, three times in the head before he finally let go of her. Though the headshots had clearly hurt him, it was clear that Jason had gotten the better of the exchange. Out of the corner of her eye, Stephanie could see Bruce rushing towards them, a batarang at the ready.

"NO!"

Stephanie reactivated her ring in a flash, placing Batman within a force bubble. Surprised by this turn of events for the briefest moment, Batman gave her a look that frightened her far more than Jason ever could. However, she still held her ground. "_I've got this_!"

The momentary distraction gave Jason more than enough time to clear the cobwebs and attempt to capitalize on his advantage. As Stephanie once again reverted to her all-too-vulnerable non-powered state, Batman watched the battle intensely. Stephanie saw that her plan was crumbling down around her and that she only had a scant amount of time to fix things.

Jason unleashed a torrential assault on the wounded young woman. Though Stephanie had managed to dodge more than her fair share of blows, quite a few of them also found their mark. Robin had somehow managed to turn Jason away with a kick to the gut, but she had been left with a severely busted lip and a left eye that was beginning to close up.

Jason knew he was winning and was more than willing to point that out. "Oh, no. I've broken my new toy."

Stephanie refused to give the former Robin an inch. "I'm still standing. Come and get me."

Jason shook his head in exasperation. "Jesus, you're just like me back at that age. Young, brash, and too stupid to know when you're beat."

Stephanie acknowledged the tendency that the two of them appeared to share. "True, true. Want to know a difference between us though?"

Jason didn't give Stephanie the time to answer her own question, rushing at Stephanie with a growl of anticipation.

As she raised her crumbling defenses once again, she decided to answer it anyway. "I may just be a little birdie." As she ducked under a spinning kick, Stephanie hastily snaked her right arm underneath her Kevlar vest. Pulling out a small, cylindrical object, she tackled Jason to the ground, placed the object at Jason's exposed neck, and pressed the button.

Jason screamed as his body was hit by 2,000 volts of electricity. Stephanie had been wise to place the taser on the man's neck, seeing as it was one of the few places on the Red Hood's body that wasn't protected by insulated Kevlar. The vigilante's roar was first a roar of surprise, then it was of pain, but then it went silent altogether.

Stephanie lay on top of Jason, panting with exhaustion while the shooting pains in her left arm seemed to grow in intensity. Despite the agony, however, she made an effort to look Jason directly into his glazed eyes.

"As I was saying. I may just be a little birdie, but you've got to admit I'm pretty damn clever."

The victorious Stephanie Brown achingly made her way back up to her own two feet under her own power. Cradling her left arm, she turned towards Batman, who was unsuccessfully trying not to look surprised at this turn of events, and flashed him her brightest smile."

"Well, how about that! I won."

Then she collapsed as well.


	11. Psychic Psychoses

Issue #11

Psychotic Psychoses

"Well, well. Look at the new Boy Wonder!" Stephanie smiled at the familiar voice and turned to meet the source. The man countered with a warm, earnest grin that had melted the heart of more than a handful of super-heroines. "Funny, you don't exactly _look_ like a boy though."

"Well, it's high time that there be a Robin with actual breasts." Stephanie sat down on the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises as the other person broke out in laughter.

"So, how does Tim feel about this?"

Stephanie bit her lip, her personal hallmark of hesitance.

"Ah, jeez. I'm not going to have to break the news to him, am I?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if Overlord Oracle hadn't told him already." Stephanie replied in a tone that was downright petulant.

Of course, this only caused Dick Grayson to flash that heart-melting smile once again. She didn't want to sound like those moopy girls that Tim always hung out with over in Young Justice, but there could be no argument that the man known as Nightwing was quite the catch. He was six feet and 190 pounds of pure, lean muscle. Smart, funny, strong-willed, and had just enough "bad boy" in him to look cool without acting like an asshole.

And the butt. Damn, can't forget about that ass.

It was quite clear that Dick thought of her as an irritating little sister, a somewhat disconcerting idea seeing as how he viewed Tim as a little brother. Still, the arrangement wasn't too bad and it made it much easier for her to get some good dirt on Tim and make cracks on Dick's seemingly horrible taste in significant others. Exhibit A was Barbara Gordon, the aforementioned Oracle, who seemed to make it her life's mission to drag the people that cared about her by a string. Sort of like Batman without the competence and finances.

"Come on, sprout. How about laying off Babs? She just wants to make sure you're well-prepared for what's out there."

"No, she needs somebody to put under her thumb now that you've gone off to San Francisco. I even had to deal with a call from that Starfire chica who tried to ring up Bats so she could yell at him. Why am I the one that has to deal with your exes?"

Nightwing's counter was simple and elegant. "Tim's got a crush on Barbara."

Stephanie's growling was a simple and non-elegant reply. "So, I suppose you're here to tell me that my being Robin is a bad idea."

"Well, no. In fact, to be honest, I kind of like it."

"You're kidding."

"Tim'll do just find with the Titans. Personally, and don't spread this around to the others, but I think Bruce needs somebody around that will keep him on his toes."

Stephanie tried _very_ hard not to blush due to Nightwing's glowing comments. "Ya know, you could help me out in that department?"

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, sprout, but I'm 26 years old. The idea of coming back to my domineering father figure full-time is not at the top of my list of things I wish to do."

"Oh, quit bitching about your father issues. At least your dad was around long enough to be domineering."

Dick playfully ruffled Stephanie's hair. "All right, I'll give you that one. Just do two favors for me all right?"

"Shoot," Stephanie grumbled as she worked to put her tresses back in order.

"One, take care of Batman for me, will ya? Something tells me he'll need somebody like you."

"Done. Second?"

"Second favor? Wake your lazy ass up before Alfred kills Jason."

* * *

Stephanie was snapped out of her dream with the unpleasant cacophony of grown men shouting at one another. 

"Mister Todd, I will no longer have you go on with these disparaging remarks concerning Master Bruce! He never wished you the slightest bit of harm!"

"Bullshit, Pennyworth!" Jason fired back. "All the two of you did was look down your noses at me, looking for a way to be rid of me because you thought I wasn't good enough, I wasn't little Dickie Grayson!"

_Damn right you're not_, Stephanie thought as she silently took stock of her surroundings. Hm, comfy bed, nice goose down pillow, and a bunch of bats hanging up above. This meant either the cave setting at Splash Mountain or the hospital cots in the Batcave. The close proximity of Jason probably meant he was close to her and her steady pulse indicated that he was probably restrained one way or another. See? And Barbara said she was a lousy detective.

Her arm still hurt like a bitch, so she probably wasn't out long. The bone was healing nicely, however. She had worked long and hard to learn how to use the ring to heal injuries. Despite her recovery, she had no desire to argue with Jason or Alfred at the moment.

So she hit Jason with her pillow.

There was a brief, wonderful little moment where time seemed to stop to try and process the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. Stephanie lived for them.

"What the hell did you do that for, you whacked-out bitch!" Jason all but squawked. Stephanie found that insulting, so she hit him again.

"Shut up or I hit you with the bedpan, nasty contents and all."

Jason Todd. The villainous Red Hood and fearer killer of drug dealers, mafia hitmen, and small-time crooks, was cowed by a 16-year-old girl.

"You've only been in that thing for five minutes," Jason grumbled. "No way you could have that much in there."

"There you go underestimating me again, J.T."

* * *

Lloyd never liked it when people stared at him. This was especially true when he felt like he had been hit by a Mack truck, backed up over, and then run over again. Still, it wasn't as if he could blame the 6-year-old kid staring at him with his almost comically large black eyes. I guess anybody would be a touch surprised if someone crashed into your apartment and left a human-shaped hole in the living room wall. Or was this the dining room wall? 

"'Ello, kid."

"Hello." The boy replied, his eyes still wide. "Are you all right?"

"Been better," said Lloyd as he slowly rose to his feet. Dusting himself off, he took inventory of his predicament. "'S not the first time I've been knocked through plaster. Guess it beats the Lincoln Continental I got thrown at."

He turned his attention to the room's other three inhabitants: a portly middle-aged couple who were obviously the child's parents and a withered old woman who looked ready to shoot flames from her nostrils.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," Lloyd said sounding understandably sheepish.

"Sorry, my ass! What is this shit? There's a goddamn hole in my kitchen and unless you don't want to make another one that looks just like it, you gonna tell me who's going to pay for the first one!"

Lloyd was momentarily taken aback by the old woman's tone. "Look, madam. Not to sound bossy, but there's going to be four mightily hacked-off wankers stormin' in here in about 20 seconds. My advice is that you take your family and clear out 'fore someone gets 'urt!"

As the mother and father called to their child, the old woman continued. "Hell naw! I ain't going nowhere 'till you tell me who's payin' for this!"

Lloyd sincerely considered the idea of performing a mind-wipe of his own but thought the better of it. Groaning, he pulled out one of Mao's old business cards from the side pocket of his leather jacket. "Call these guys, they'll take care of it! Now, OUT!"

Perhaps that wasn't the best way to handle the potentially volatile situation, but the loud crash that marked the arrival of Psimon, Jinx, and Mammoth was good enough to settle the matter. Using a telekinetic wave to send Mammoth back the way he came, Lloyd soon had to deal with the combined assault of Psimon and Jinx. Despite his significant strain, the Black Dog was managing to hold off the combined assault of magic and telepathy. Of course, that was when he felt a horrific burning sensation well up in the pit of his stomach.

Shimmer had arrived.

Significantly weakened, off-balance, and under a triple assault, Lloyd worked frantically to generate a significant enough well of energy to deploy and buy himself some time to recover. There was no way he could abandon the innocent people within the building to these maniacs. Plus there was still Deathstroke to deal with. The matter was made even worse as he saw Mammoth bound back into the apartment, looking quite furious.

"Not feeling so clever now, are you doggie?" Shimmer said as she poured more force into her assault. "I'll teach you to hurt me and my brothAGGH!"

Shimmer's threats were interrupted as two arrows struck her, one in each of her shoulder blades. This not only caused the attack to stop but also caused Mammoth to scream with worry, effectively cutting Lloyd's workload in half.

"Now ya gotta admit," said Green Arrow, two more arrows already on the string, "that was a damn fine shot."

"GRAAGH!" Mammoth charged the emerald archer in a murderous rage. However, the modern-day Robin Hood was able to dodge quite easily.

"Toro! Toro, dumbass!" As Mammoth attempted to turn around, Ollie shot a steel-tipped arrow that sliced into the tendons of Mammoth's right knee, sending him down in an awkward heap. Jinx was the next foe to center on him, sending a nasty looking purplish ball of energy at him. The archer dodged again, rolling left as he readied another arrow. Ollie won the next draw, blinding the witch with a flash arrow and causing her to scream in pain and frantically rub at her eyes.

"Can't hit what you can't see, Marvin Hagler," Ollie said with a roguish grin.

"I can."

Green Arrow was flung against the wall by some invisible force. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that this was Psimon's doing.

"So can I."

Psimon turned around to catch a full showing of Lloyd's right foot coming straight for his gullet. The flying kick connected, shattering several important teeth and leaving the telepath in a significant amount of pain.

"Thanks for the save, mate." Lloyd said with a tired smile. "Owe ya one."

"Actually, I think I still owe you two," Ollie fired back. "Although come to think of it, you just helped me out again, so damnit I guess I'm back to owing you three."

"There's a tremendous amount of energy pouring from the top of that radio tower. 'M trustin' that's where this Key fellow is?"

"Yeah, him and Raven. You still got enough to handle these jokers?"

"Certainly," Lloyd replied, watching Mammoth rise to his feet and Jynx beginning to recover. "I'll join you when I can. Where's Canary?"

* * *

Dinah thought she really needed to stop creating opportunities where she could marvel at her own stupidity. 

Oh, don't worry Ollie! Just go help the kid! I can take on the world's deadliest assassin on my own! What's that? Yes, I know he nearly beat the hell out of me, you and five other Justice Leaguers a couple of weeks back! Those were just lucky shots!

After five minutes of fighting, the only accomplishment she could really give herself credit for is that she hadn't acquired any significant injuries.

Even Slade seemed impressed by this feat. "Not bad, Canary, but you're getting in the way of my contract. Normally, I'd let you fly off but an associate of mine has been looking for you and I owe the man a favor."

With the speed of a panther, Deathstroke the Terminator leapt towards his prey, sword at the ready. The moment Dinah prepared for her canary cry to counter, he flung a small dagger he had fetched in mid-air from his hip. The blade missed its target, but only because Dinah had dodged in the nick of time. The projectile gave Slade more than enough time to bash her in the side of the face with the hilt of his sword. As the Black Canary toppled face first to the ground, Slade raised the blade over his head.

"Sweet dreams, songbird."

Before Slade could strike, however, a flying object crashed into his fists, causing the sword to fall from his grasp. As Dinah rolled to relative safety, Slade was sent flying by a double-footed kick. Watching Slade crash to the ground, the Black Canary was caught unawares of somebody helping her to her feet.

"Good evening, Canary," said Batman.

* * *

"In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight." Stephanie's voice took on a nasal, concrete-penetrating tone. "Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power, Green Lantern's light." 

Taking the now recharged ring from the Oa power battery, Robin rolled her shoulders and twisted her neck to and fro to take out some of the kinks. Placing the ring back onto her right hand, she brought it to life. The previously broken bone in her arm was already well on the road to recovery and the rest of her body felt like it had just been in a hot shower.

"Miss Stephanie, I find what you are doing to be remarkably foolish. You were unconscious only a half hour ago."

Stephanie turned to Alfred with a winsome smile. "Well, I'll admit that it isn't the best idea I've ever had, but it still needs to be done. We've got that Deathstroke guy, the Society, and the Key all still on the loose and somebody needs to even the odds. And, since nobody else is around, I guess that someone's gonna be me."

"Well, it appears that it did not take long at all for you to acquire Master Bruce's inclination of ignoring perfectly sound medical advice."

"Yeah. You should be careful, Alfie. It might be contagious."

"Yes, I remember Master Dick saying something along those lines long ago."

The sharp-tongued butler then returned to the computer, leaving Stephanie to stew in the sensation of losing yet another war of words to the former Interpol agent. Despite that, however, Alfred brooked no further argument, so she supposed that she could view it as a split-decision.

"You'll never get it right."

Speaking of split decisions. . .

"Funny, Jason. I don't remember asking for you to speak."

"Rushing out to do the right thing, playing hurt, giving all those pep talks and words of encouragement." Despite his confinement within the hospital cot, he appeared to be quite relaxed. "You won't impress him. He'll never really care for you. No matter what you do, you'll always just be another tool for him. 'Cause that's how he sees people, kiddo. He's got Oracle for doing the white-collar work, Alfred to feed him and wipe his ass, and you and Dogboy are there to run the streets for him."

"It's called a relationship, Jason." Stephanie said as she donned her mask. "An agreement between two people to associate with one another in order to achieve positive results for both parties. You should look into it."

"You didn't quite hear me, Steffie. _He doesn't view you as a person_. You're what, the fourth Robin? How many times has he put us all in danger needlessly? How many innocent people have been hurt because of his supposed morality and noble ideals? Somebody like Bruce doesn't give a damn about anybody. You may as well be a new alternator for the Batmobile as far as he's concerned."

Stephanie huffed and pretended to look up to the heavens for guidance to deal with this garrulous intruder. "Wellllllll, if I'm an alternator than you must be an exhaust pipe for all the smoke you're blowin'. And, all car part comparisons aside, let me tell you something about the both of you."

"Oh, this should be insightful," Jason said with that sycophantic smirk. "Ah well, it's not like I've got anywhere else to go right now," he indicated the steel manacles encircling his hands and legs.

"Look, trying to get an explanation for your actions was only part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. Truth be told, you intrigued me from the first time I heard about you."

"So, I have an admirer. Well, I hate to disappoint you but you _are_ a little young for me."

"And you're a little too much of a moron for me. Anyway, Nightwing once told me that you were once a lot like me. We both grew up in Gotham, we both didn't exactly have pristine childhoods, we'd both rather fight than talk, and we both like to leap into things we probably should stay away from. So, I read into how you died, how you got duped by your mother and the Joker and it reminded me of the stupid mistakes that I made. I figured that we would have a lot in common and I could level with you. But the bottom line is that there's a big difference between the two of us."

Jason's upraised left eyebrow indicated that he was at least somewhat interested in where this was going.

"We may both wake up in the morning and look at ourselves in the mirror and be proud of what we see. The difference is I still know there's a long way to go to get to where I need to be. We both may have been dealt bad hands, but you can't run around blaming other people for the cards you get.

You did something phenomenally stupid and got yourself killed and now you blame Bruce because you screwed up? You want to get mad at him for not killing the Joker because he killed you? You say that if he truly loved you he would have done him in? Love isn't about vengeance, it's about honoring and fighting for the people you care about. And if you don't think for one moment that Bruce didn't love you take a good look at that stupid-ass costume in the corner! Listen to his voice when he hears or sees about some of the horrible things you're doing! If you still think he doesn't care for you, then I'll rip that stupid Al Pacino wannabe bad-ass smirk off your face and feed it to Ace the Bathound!"

Bruce doesn't kill. Not for you, not for me, not even for his mother and father. I don't know why, but he doesn't and I'll honor his pledge so long as he'll have me. However, I've got a pledge of my own. No one hurts the people I care about, and if you think for an instant that I'll ever let you lay so much as a fingertip on him in anger again I will rip you limb from limb, pledge be _damned_." At this promise, a tremendous green aura resonated from her body and brought a blinding light to the dim confines of the Batcave. "Don't think I can't. Don't think I won't."

Just like that, the luminous aura faded away leaving the two of them alone in the lowlights.

"Okay! That's pretty much all I felt like saying!" Stephanie clapped her hands together and an adventurous twinkle sparkled in her blue eyes. "Now, I've got some work to do. Peace out, Jase!"

Stephanie Brown thundered out of the Batcave, nothing more than a blur of emerald, leaving Jason Todd alone in his former home.

* * *

Bruce Wayne and Dinah Lance are two of the most renowned martial artists walking the planet. They have each spent over 20 years honing their craft under the watchful eyes of some of the most respected and feared masters of the art of combat. In addition to their incredible proficiency in the world of hand-to-hand combat, Bruce Wayne is capable of tremendous proficiency with dozens of different weapons, sidearms, and projectile weapons and has access to the premier in armor and weapon technology. The Black Canary herself is capable of shattering walls of solid concrete with her innate talents of sonic manipulation. 

To Slade Wilson, they may as well have been toddlers.

It wasn't a question of skill. Both Bruce and Dinah would most likely had emerged the victor in a one-on-one encounter with Slade were it not for the serum that coursed through his veins, if his strength, speed, and intelligence were not far well beyond even the highest reaches of normal human potential. Batman had worked for years to become more skilled, seeking to become the perfect specimen of efficiency and cunning, but Slade was already there. Together, Batman and Dinah had put up a spirited fight, even scoring some solid blows against the superhuman assassin extraordinaire, but Slade's ruthless ability and flawless strategy soon overwhelmed them.

"Well, let me just say that this has been very entertaining," Deathstroke said as he ducked, dodged, and parried the Batman's strikes, each of them targeting a nerve center or pressure point in the hopes of incapacitating him. "Probably explains why I just haven't pulled out my gun and blasted the two of you into bite-size pieces."

The Black Canary came at him from behind, hitting him with a kick to the side of the chest that would have smashed a couple of ribs in any normal human. Slade merely shrugged it off, grabbed her leg with inhuman speed and slammed her into Batman, sending both of them down in a heap.

"However, I do have a contract that I must keep and you're one of the names on my list Mr. Wayne."

"Can't always get what you want, Deathstroke," Dinah said with a sneer as she and Bruce charged at him again. It was a brave action, but also an inefficient one. Slade merely dodged the incoming Batarang, ducked under Dinah's hook kick and slammed both fists into Batman's gut. As Dinah was about to launch into another sonic cry, he pulled out a small object from one of his waist pouches.

A yo-yo, of all things.

However, as Slade twirled one end of the steel cord around Dinah's neck, it was hardly a laughing matter as she fell to the ground clutching at the binding.

"But I get what I need." Slade said as he stood over the prone Batman, sword at the ready. "And I'm not even trying."

Slade was once again stopped from performing a killing blow, this time by a green beam of energy that disintegrated the blade altogether.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Slade yelled in obvious frustration. "Just how many of you are there?"

He turned to see the face of his third and final target, the blonde haired girl who was already removing the yo-yo from around Canary's neck. "I wouldn't worry about that, Breathstroke," she said as she succeeded in undoing the bindings. "You've got enough to deal with right now."

Robin looked over at Batman. "You okay, B? Lloyd says the Key wants to do a brain drain on Gotham. Green Arrow's already on his way up the tower."

Coughing lightly as he rose back up, Batman turned his eyes toward the massive structure that served as the most powerful communications receiver on the eastern seaboard. "Can you handle him?"

"This old coot? Sure thing."

"Let's move, Dinah!"

As Batman began to rush towards the tower, Dinah took one last look at her familiar-looking rescuer. "Do I know you?"

"Let's go, Black Canary!"

Choosing practicality over curiosity, Dinah rushed off after Batman, leaving a 16-year-old girl to deal with the world's most dreaded assassin.

"Does she know you, Miss Brown?" Slade asked as he watched his two former opponents rush off.

Stephanie didn't react to Slade saying her true name. Judging from the last month or so, she was beginning to think there wasn't anybody who _didn't_ know who the Batman was. "Not too well apparently. Kind of surprised that you're letting my boss just go like that. I thought you were like this big deal professional psychopath."

"I can kill Batman anytime I choose, my dear. You're the more suitable target right now."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. I've always wanted an Oa power ring. You shouldn't have shown your hand so soon."

"What, this? But it's such a _gooood_ card. How could I not? You might as well just fold and go home, old man."

"Hmm. I think the last Green Lantern I fought said something like that to me. That was before I broke four of his fingers and he started screaming like a child."

"Oh yeah, ya mean Kyle Rayner? Well, he's a friend of mine so I can get you back for what you did to him too while I'm here. All these birds and I don't even have a stone."

"Well, seeing as how I nearly killed Wayne and the Black Canary and once managed to hold off an entire regiment of the Justice League, exactly how do you think you're going to beat me?"

"Yes, yes. You beat down the Jackoff League! Big damn deal! You beat up Hawkman and The Atom, for pete's sake! Well, I admit I don't have six people backin' me up. . ."

Out of nowhere, the battered and beaten body of Baran Flanders flew past the both of them, crashing into an abandoned dump truck.

"I've just got the one."

Lloyd moved towards them, his clothing torn, his nose bleeding, his teeth bared, and the rest of him quite ready to keep on fighting.

"All sorts of rubbish on the streets this hour," Lloyd said as he stood at Stephanie's side. "High time we break out the streetsweepers, ey pet?"

"Oh, lets."

* * *

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute. _Spoiler_!" 

"Yes, Dinah."

"The little girl in the eggplant cape that rode her moped to the Batcave? That Spoiler?"

Batman somehow managed to work up the necessary amount of oxygen to sigh in irritation as they rushed up the stairwells of the radio tower at a phenomenal pace. "One and the same."

"And she's a Green Lantern now? The little weird girl that Cassie kept knocking out? The kid that Babs would send to track down purse snatchers just to get rid of her?"

"I sense you're having a hard time accepting this, Canary."

"Well, I'm _sorry_ if I've been out of the gossip loop for a while! I've been busy what with the Justice League disintegrating and Superman nearly killing poor Wally while under hypnosis and all the OMACs, and Ollie's normal crap."

Dinah ceased her rambling as the two of them arrived at the top of the tower. Ollie was already there, his back turned to the two of them. On the other end of the tower stood Manitou Raven, the Mayan empath and an apparent hostage.

Standing next to her was a haggard, emaciated looking man with near-skeletal features and iron-gray hair obviously not borne from old age. In fact, it was due to a lifetime of physical and physiological pain endured while attempting to hold an enormous amount of energy within a human frame that was hardly fit to do so. The rigors had, in fact, been so gargantuan that the man could no longer even remember his own name. Now, driven into dementia by his own power, he simply referred to himself as the Key.

Over a year ago, he had been placed in Arkham Asylum due to the work of Batman and the alien known to the world as the Martian Manhunter. It was believed that J'onn had removed the Key's superhuman talents.

It was quite obvious that his efforts were not entirely successful.

"Ollie! Are you all right?" Dinah yelled, looking quite cautious. Ollie did not move so much as a muscle. The Key laughed, a wispy gasp that was barely audible. Manitou Raven, on the other hand, stood stock still, obviously in some kind of shell shock.

"Dinah, by any chance did you and Ollie happen to bring telepathic dampeners with you on the way to Gotham?" asked Batman.

"Of course we did." Dinah replied. "Why?"

With a speed and precision that put Olympic caliber archers to shame, Oliver Queen set an explosive arrow to the string and fired. Both Bruce and Dinah leaped left to avoid any personal contact with the device as it collided with the top stairwell supports, resulting in an explosion that sent down 10 tons of mangled steel down upon the staircase that the two heroes had just scaled.

"Just a question." Batman said.

* * *

"Awwwwwwwwww! Look at him! Isn't he cuuuuuuuuute?" Robin cooed. 

"Not remotely. Then again, he did attempt to blow me into a million pieces, so my judgment may be a touch skewed."

"Well, _I_ think he's adorable," Stephanie said with a rascally grin. "Are you sure we can't keep him?"

"No, Steph. We all know what's gonna happen. After a couple of months, you're gonna get bored and then I'm gonna have to be the one to feed him and bathe him and clean up his turds when he messes on the carpet."

"Awwwwww."

"Put him back where you found him, Steph." Lloyd said in an authoritative tone.

Making another huff of resistance, Robin used her ring to create a giant scoop shovel. After using it to pick up the now very unconscious Deathstroke, Stephanie whisked it over to the dumpster that Lloyd had previously sent Mammoth crashing into. With a sweep of her hand, she made the shovel disappear, leaving Deathstroke to fall quite unceremoniously into the filthy waste receptacle.

"All right. Enough with the mid-card crap! It's time to crash the main event!" Stephanie whooped, taking to the sky. As she was doing so, however, Lloyd grabbed her right ankle and pulled her back down. "Hey! What's up with you?"

"Something's wrong." Stephanie's eyes widened at Lloyd's suddenly serious tone. "Something's very wrong."

"What? You think the Gotham Recycling Committee might try and give us an environmental citation for not putting Deathstroke in bottles or cans?"

Lloyd's worry was snapped by the sheer ridiculousness of Robin's words. Holding back a biting remark, he went on. "'S just the closer I've been getting to this Key guy, I feel something acting up with me powers. Sort of like an ice cream headache."

"Well, this dude is supposed to be like this major league telepath, which is why we should go up there and help out."

Steph tried to squirm away from Lloyd's grasping of her shoulder but the Black Dog held firm.

"'S the thing, though. This isn't telepathy. This is out and out magic."

That did get Robin's attention. "But Batman's files said the Key didn't have any magic in him."

"Which means we're not dealin' with the Key here," Lloyd said as he looked forebodingly up the tower. "An' from all this hardcore mojo vibes I'm getting, I think whatever's up there is big time bad."

* * *

"Ollie! Snap out of it!" Dinah cried as she dodged a bolo arrow fired by her former boyfriend. "You can beat this!" 

"No, he can't!" Batman snapped angrily. "And would you like to know why, Dinah? Because he's weak! Nothing but a spoiled rich kid who let every opportunity that's ever been handed to him fall away because he knew somebody would be there to pick him back up!"

"What on earth are you. . .?" Dinah felt as if someone had filled her veins with ice water. "Oh, Jesus no."

"It's time to put you down, Ollie," Batman said. Launching himself over another arrow, Batman used his heavy cape to glide through the high winds and crash into Ollie with a flying tackle. Within moments, the two costumed vigilantes were clawing at one another.

Dinah was aghast. The Key was laughing.

"Oh dear. Did I pick the right place to go to after the Spectre busted me out! So many souls with so much and so little. Throw in these two insecure little fellows and Gotham is nothing more than a breeding den of _envy_!"

Misfits Confidential

AHH! Another chapter that's run too long. No time for meaningless chit-chat! Read the story! Please review because I want to know what you think! Time for the next issue preview!

Issue #12 Preview

Envy, the demonic embodiment of one of the Seven Sins is in town and he's got Batman and Green Arrow fighting to the death for his opening act! Well, I expect that's better than the vocal stylings of Vicki Lawrence. Can Dinah, Lloyd, and Stephanie stop them and turn the tide before the lights go out in Gotham? (Shame on you if you understand that joke) Find out in the conclusion of the Responsibilities arc: Understanding through Arsekickings! See you in seven!


	12. Understanding through Arsekickings

Issue #12

Understanding through Arsekickings

Gluttony, Wrath, Lust, Envy, Sloth, Greed, and Pride. These are words that symbolize the supposed seven sins of humanity. For those in tune with the realm of the supernatural, however, they are no mere words. Eons ago the demons that would come to symbolize the greatest faults within humanity roamed free and without restraint. Even today, despite all the time these foul beasts have remained imprisoned, their presence still exists within every soul. In order to prevent these abominable beasts to take a greater hold upon the imperfect creatures walking the planet, it is said that a great wizard was set to the task of making certain that the sins remained in check.

However, that wizard is no more. Shazam had sacrificed his life in order to protect the planet he watched over from untold amounts of devastation wrought about by a being claiming to serve the will of an angry God. With the death of Shazam came the release of the Seven Sins and Envy had found a home in Gotham City, a truly fine residence for a creature seeking an epitome of human weakness and fault. In his brief possession of the man known as the Key, Envy had already swayed the minds of Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, and Manitou Raven, coercing them into being driven mad by their own imperfections.

So, yeah, it was safe to say that Dinah Lance was in deep doo-doo.

While the Black Canary continued to avoid Dawn's frequent attempts to kill her, Batman and Green Arrow continued their war of words and fists.

"Stand down, Green Arrow! We don't have any time for your petty jealousies!"

"You're calling me petty?" Bolstered by his shame and petty jealousies, Oliver Queen continued to keep Bruce at bay with his various trick arrows. "Who is the guy who treats his friends worse than his enemies? Who is the one that even Superman doesn't want to piss off because he thinks you'll dose him with Kryptonite? You treat the people who care about you like absolute garbage and they still come running back! And do you want to know why? Because you've insulted and betrayed them so many times that they don't even have the strength to fight you anymore. They're scared of what you'll do to them! Well, let me tell you that I'm not scared of ya one bit!"

"_I _treat _my _friends like garbage!" Batman was belligerent, continuing to inch his way closer and closer to the wily archer. "Who was the man who abandoned his own partner when he needed him the most? From the very first time we crossed paths I knew you were nothing more than a pale imitation of me, but you had it all. Roy thought the world of you! Dinah loved you and you treated her like garbage and left it up to the rest of us to pick up the broken pieces of your life!"

Swinging his cape over his eyes to shield them from Ollie's flash arrow, Batman used the time between Ollie's shots to prepare a gas grenade and he let it fly. Ollie was a second to slow in avoiding the fumes, giving Batman the time he needed to close the distance between Green Arrow and himself. He stunned him with a backhand to the jaw, doubled him over with a hard punch to the gut and then took the archer off his feet with a sweep kick. Green Arrow attempted to roll away from the dark knight's assault, still suffering from the effects of the gas, but Batman tackled him to the ground.

"And do you want to know what really pisses me off?" Batman asked, his voice dripping with fury. "They forgave you for it! They forgive you for everything! _I_ forgave you for it!" Batman began raining down punches to Ollie's face and torso while the archer trying everything he could to shield himself. "Everyone was looking after you and you were only out for yourself! Even when you died you were thinking only about yourself! Clark told me about how you whined about how you didn't want to go through life with only one hand because, hey, what good is an archer with only one hand! You SELFISH, BLOW-HARDY FOOL!"

Ollie finally broke free from Batman's grasp, rolling to safety. Although he was sporting a bloody nose and a swollen left eye, Green Arrow seemed more than willing to continue fighting. "Want to know why they forgave me?" he gasped. "Because I'm not the one that spends every waking hour looking for ways to hurt them! I'm not the one who builds a big ass satellite so I could make sure that nobody's doing anything I don't like!"

"Well, you'll excuse me if I don't have the stomach to administer lobotomies to anybody who is doing something that I don't like."

As the two fights continued, the malevolent fiend that had commandeered the body of the Key smiled happily, blissfully immersed within the unrestrained, unfettered emotion. The demon watched as the blonde-haired woman tried desperately to reach her two friends while imploring her other friend not to give in to her own emotions. Smirking at the woman's futile efforts, the demon wondered if his two other unwanted guests were enjoying the gift it sent to them.

* * *

"Somebody help!" Stephanie screamed as she fired off another blast of energy from her ring. "I'm trapped in an middle of an episode of _Buffy, the Vampire Slayer_!"

Lloyd rolled his eyes and uttered a bark of laughter as he used his saber to sever the neck tendons of a puce-colored fellow who appeared to have a nasty-looking acid frothing from his maw. "Actually, I preferred _Angel_ myself. Once Willow found out she was a carpet muncher and Buffy became a real asshole I just started losing interest. Spike was cool though."

"Agreed. James Marsters kicks ass," Stephanie agreed as she employed her amplified strength and speed to grab a demon by the arm and swing it about, knocking the clawed beast into quite a few of its compatriots. "And what's wrong with Willow being a lesbian? I didn't peg you for being a homophobe?"

"'S got nothin' to do with homophobia," Lloyd replied as he summoned a gust of wind that bought him a bit of breathing room from his numerous opponents. "Willow Rosenberg was my first real hardcore crush."

"Willow or Alyson Hannigan?" Stephanie asked as she ducked to avoid having her head separated from her shoulders. "You _do _realize that Willow Rosenberg is a fictional character, right?"

Lloyd claimed two more victims with a mighty, two-handed lash. "This comin' from the girl with the crush on Spider-Man."

"Hey! No dissin' Peter Parker!"

While Stephanie began to whistle the theme song for a certain wall-crawling super-hero, Lloyd continued his argument. "I just thought that _Angel_ was always the more intriguing show. Once the characters all got of high school, it's like the writing crew didn't really know what to do with them. Also, I always thought that Alexis Denisof was always a very underrated actor. Move to the right, will you Steph?"

Stephanie wisely followed Lloyd's instructions, allowing him to fire a blast of energy that incinerated a demon that was attempting to strike Robin from the rear. "Thank ya," Stephanie said as she used her claws to decapitate another aesthetically unpleasant fiend. "That shot looked a little weak. Are you sure you're okay?"

Lloyd sighed as he used his blade to deflect a punch from a demon with arms that looked like hollowed-out canoes. "Be honest, pet, I'm feelin' a bit knackered what with fighting the OMACs, the Fearsome Five, all these demons, and being blown up and sent through a building."

"Well, turns out. . . HOLY SHIT! This thing is growing its head back!" Stephanie exclaimed as her previously decapitated fiend seemed to be well on its way to recovering from what the young Green Lantern had thought to be a rather grievous injury. She was so busy trying not to stare that she was too slow in dodging the swipe of a four-clawed monster. As she grimaced in pain from the hairline scratches across her torso, she angrily roasted her attacker and the two demons next to it before taking to the skies. "That's it. I'm tired of this shit. Ready for a charge and burn?"

"About a good a way to end this fight as any, Tweety," Lloyd replied.

The "charge and burn" as Stephanie had labeled it, was a maneuver that the two young teammates had developed in their month of working together in the field and their many hours of training inside the Batcave. It combined the near-limitless energy reserves of Stephanie's ring with Lloyd's impressive ability to manipulate such energy. Now, the Oa power ring is a living energy battery that is normally used to empower its owner, but it could also be used to replenish others. This rejuvenation can include anything from healing grievous wounds to, in this case, allowing your very powerful partner to achieve a significant second wind.

His power batteries restored by Stephanie's ring, Lloyd released a flash of energy that rivaled the intensity of a sun. While the Black Dog was busy doing that, Robin used her ring to create a shield that safely contained the energy so that it would harm nothing save for the unfortunate demons trapped within the Black Dog's wake.

The maneuver was completed in a matter of several seconds, leaving Lloyd and Stephanie only with an impressive collection of scorched demonic carcasses.

Stephanie flew back down and turned towards her partner. "We make a good team, don't you think?"

"I've had worse partners," Lloyd replied.

"You think we should have asked B whether or not it was all right to kill demons before we did all that?"

"Well, pet. It's a little too late in the game to be worryin' about that now!"

"True. True. So have you figured out who our mystery opponent is and why he's so dangerous that you stopped me from going up there?"

"It's Envy," Lloyd replied. One of the Seven Sins. Mao told me about 'em once. 'S the reason why the mojo parts of me have been actin' up. I didn't want us to go up there unless I knew that we could do more good than harm. Besides that, a creature of that power's gonna take more than a sharp sword and a pretty ring to bring down."

"Envy, huh?" Stephanie said as she looked up the tower. "Well then, I don't suppose you're feeling any jealousy right now? 'Cause just between you and me, I've always been a little envious about how guys can pee standin' up."

"Well," Lloyd said leeringly, "I do have to admit that I envy your having breasts. 'S a bloody good thing for all of us that I think the rest of you is just bloody unpalatable."

"Such an asshole." Stephanie said as she shook her head back and forth. "But aren't you a telepath? If this thing is playing with people's emotions, is there any chance you could give it a taste of its' own medicine?"

Lloyd shook his head. "Naw. Not even at full power. It'd be like trying to fight fire by throwing wood at it."

Lloyd's explanations were interrupted by a series of raspy snarls and infuriated roars. He and Stephanie turned in dismay to see another assemblage of demonic entities rushing towards them.

"We can't just keep fighting these guys all night!" Stephanie yelled as the battle began anew. "What if we take him on together? Combine our powers just like we did to those demons?"

Lloyd tossed an attacking imp over his shoulder before slicing into the creature's back with his saber. "'S not a question of power!" Lloyd shouted. "It's a matter of not having the _right kind _of power! That creature is nothing more than pure emotion. To even have a chance at defeating it, we'd need somebody who can eliminate emotion, not just manipulate it!"

_Wait a bleedin' minute._

And just like that, Lloyd had found the way they could win.

* * *

"Dawn, I know you're not responsible for your actions right now but I'm developing a significant desire to kick your ass!"

Dinah's front somersault allowed her to narrowly escape the Manitou's energy blast and the dropkick that followed struck the empath right on the chin. As the spellbound young woman plummeted to the ground, Dinah advanced quickly to put her out of the fight.

"_Hold on, Canary!"_

Dinah was so startled by Lloyd's neural intrusion that it had given Dawn enough time to shake off the effects of Dinah's attack and once again regain the advantage.

"_Little bit of warning next time you say hello, Lloyd!"_ Dinah bit out as she ran for her life. _"And I don't mean to sound rude right now, but Bruce and Ollie are trying to kill each other and I'm fighting for my life so I don't really have time for a conversation!"_

"_Sorry about that luv, but I couldn't let you knock Manitou Raven out. She's our ticket to winnin' this fight_!"

Dinah dodged another bolt of energy that came inches from setting her hair on fire. _"Really? 'Cause I'm having a hard time seeing that possibility."_

"_That's because Envy's got control of her mind. Now, doesn't your sonic scream affect brainwave activity?"_

"_At certain frequencies, yes_._"_

Back down at ground level, Lloyd created a forcefield around himself and expanded it forward, knocking back his demonic attackers like ten pins. _"Right. So here's my plan. You scramble Raven's noggin with your screaming. With any luck, that should give me enough of an opportunity to get into the chit's noggin' and undo the hold that Envy's got on 'er. Then, through the mind link, Stephanie and I will help Raven take Envy down. If we do that, Bruce and Ollie should snap out of their hypnosis and these Wes Craven rejects here on the ground should go back where they came from. You with me?"_

"_Stephanie? Is she here in this mindlink too?"_

Robin took time out from blasting back a variety of red, blue, and purple demons. _"Hi, Miss Lance! How are you? Long time no see!"_

"**_Are you ready?_**" Lloyd felt that he didn't have the time or patience for idle chatter, even idle telepathic chatter.

"_Well, it beats dying_." Dinah replied. Breathing in deeply, Dinah let loose an intensely powerful Canary Cry aimed directly at her mesmerized adversary. The sonic wave hit its' target perfectly, the intensity of the sound so loud that it caused blood to spurt from Dawn's ears.

Lloyd took to the sky the moment he heard Dinah's rather unique melody. His body seemed to lessen in form as he soared upward until it looked more like a wisp. Dinah felt a slight stirring of hope as she watched the young man's astral form slip into Dawn's body. That stirring intensified as Envy bellowed angrily, clearly unhappy with the goings on.

Meanwhile, Lloyd was busy taking in the sudden appearance of a flowering field dappled by a warm, summer sun. It was quite a welcome contrast from the asphalt jungle he had found himself in for the past month. Momentarily distracted from the urgency of the task at hand, Lloyd couldn't help but notice that it was a rather odd choice for a battleground in which to confront an incarnation of human sin. Then again, it wasn't as if he was in control of the locale. That privilege belonged to the caramel-skinned woman curled up in a ball at the base of a large tree. The woman looked at him, her ebony eyes wide with fear, shock and surprise.

"Who, who are you? It was so dark. So very dark." The woman's voice was haunted and wary, as if she wouldn't allow herself to believe the sight in front of her.

"'M a friend, madam. And soon we're gonna be joined by some company that only you can show the exit to."

Dawn's astral form was not at all comforted by Lloyd's claim. "I sense the blood. . .the soul of a demon within you!"

_Bugger_. Lloyd had been hoping that Dawn would not have been able to discover that unpleasant little factoid. After all, the poor chit had spent the last several days being tortured by a demon. Still, the proper explanation for his heritage had to be put on hold because it was that moment when Envy chose to rain on the pristine parade. His astral form towered above them. Lloyd estimated that it was at least a hundred feet tall. It sported crocodile-like green skin from head to toe, glimmering yellow eyes, and it didn't appear to be at all pleased with Lloyd's presence.

"Stupid boy! Trying to take my possession from me!" The demon's voice was nothing more than a hiss, a low, derisive murmur that only seemed to magnify the creature's sinister power. "Or do you have another intention in mind, hmm? Perhaps you seek to place me back within my wretched prison? Well, regardless of your plans, I assure you that I'll bring an end to them!"

The demon summoned an enormous globe of energy. Lloyd was forced to tune out Dawn's hysterical screaming as he worked to defend the both of them from the ensuing blast. However, a flash of green struck Envy across the face, ending the attack before it could even begin.

"It really isn't easy being green is it, big guy?"

Robin turned and lunged at Envy again, using her ring-created claws to slash the demon across its throat. The demon screamed in pain and frustration as Stephanie rushed down to join Lloyd and Raven.

"All right, luv." Lloyd said as he kept one eye on the enraged demon. "Now I know that the situation seems a bit odd, but I assure you that we're here to help. Now you have to get a hold of yourself and listen carefully. The two of us are going to transfer our energy into your astral form. With that, you should have enough power to weaken Envy to the point where it can be contained again."

The look in Dawn's eyes hardly rang with confidence. "Sir, you must understand. This is not my power. My husband gave it to me. I have only barely begun to understand it. You cannot expect me to perform such a feat!"

"Look, luv. All of Gotham is counting on you! Now I can see the power in you and the only thing you need to do in order to control it is to control your own emotions. If your hubby gave it to you, then I'd bet the house that he knew you could do it."

"No! No! This, this is too much to ask. I do not deserve the gift that my husband has given to me. I dishonored our union and his memory."

An infuriated scream and a titanic blast of energy signaled Envy's hasty recovery and although Stephanie had managed to summon a shield strong enough to hold back the strike, it was all she could do to keep the beast from annihilating them on the spot.

"Lloyd, I'm all for motivational speeches," Stephanie said through gritted teeth, "but could you tell this lady to get her ass in gear before we're carbonized?"

Lloyd clearly shared his partner's frustration, but he knew that he couldn't allow his emotions to get the best of him. Not right now. "Look, I don't want to be the one putting this pressure on ya, but you're the only one 'ere who can stop this guy! So you and Ollie shagged out of wedlock. 'S not the most endearin' thing to do, but everyone makes mistakes. If you let your mistakes continue to hound you, then you'll never find the time to make up for them. If this demon is able to run free then it's going to hurt a lot of innocent people. So do you want to start makin' it up to your husband? Then stop wallowin' in your guilt, do some good, and help us take this wanker out!"

"Your words are useless, halfblood." Envy snarled as the demon continued to pour on the power. "She is nothing but a shell strapped to her own guilt and sin. Nothing more than a poor, disgraceful replacement for an ignorant, disgraceful man!"

Envy almost instantly recognized that it should have picked its words more tactfully as it watched the coal-black eyes of Manitou Raven sparkle with life and fury. For you see, fighting within the mind and soul of another is quite different from battling upon a neutral ground. Within the confines of a strong and good-hearted soul, not even the mightiest of sins can gain complete control, particularly when that soul is additionally bolstered with the might of two young, yet quite capable warriors.

Now, within her own mind, Manitou Raven was master of all she surveyed.

The triplicate blast tore into Envy's astral form. The demonic apparition howled in hellish agony. The beast instinctually began searching for any way to escape from the hideous pain but it was too far gone to find it. Envy reeled and screeched as it felt its power draining away from him.

Meanwhile, amidst the cacophony of screams and energy, Lloyd could have sworn that he heard an ethereal voice carry over the riotous din.

"You have my thanks for 'setting him up', as some might say. Allow me to take the task from here."

A fantastic explosion of light resounded through the mind of Manitou Raven, the sheer radiance of the explosion forcing Dawn, Lloyd and Stephanie to cover their eyes. By the time they had recovered, Envy was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Batman had Green Arrow beaten. Ollie was out of arrows, out of room to run, and out of luck. The detective continued to tag the archer with a string of stiff punches that were quickly turning his former friend into a bloody mess. As Ollie lay on the ground, unable to defend himself, Batman pulled a Batarang out from his utility belt. Before he could use the projectile's blade to cut Ollie's throat, a blonde and black blur wearing fishnets tackled him to the ground.

Dinah rolled to her feet, panting in exhaustion. "All right you two. I'm already gonna catch hell from your mom and dad for letting you fight but I'm your babysitter and I'm telling you to break it up right now."

For a moment, Batman appeared quite ready to attack Dinah in order to get back at his fallen foe, but his charge fell a bit short. He began to forcefully shake his head from side to side, as if he were fighting to get some unwanted substance out of his head. Dinah breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to see Ollie in similar stress. She took a moment to look behind her as she saw the unconscious forms of Manitou Raven and the Key slumped side-by-side.

_Well, whaddaya know. The little scamps did it._

"Awwwww. Don't tell me I got hypnotized!" Ollie was the first to get back to his feet. "Damn it! Every time I go out with the JLA or the JSA or the MBA I run into somebody who wants to hypnotize me! That's it! From now on, I'm keepin' my ass in Star City!"

"I don't see anybody protesting such a decision."

Dinah let herself laugh loudly as she watched Ollie scowled in response to Batman's jibe.

Batman turned his attention back to Dinah. "You have my thanks, Black Canary."

Dinah broke out the most endearing smile she could muster. "Well, I like to think you would have done the same thing." Batman's response was something between a grumble and a growl. "And you really shouldn't give me all your thanks. Lloyd and Steph deserve most of the credit."

"Yes. And I imagine that they'll be more than happy to remind me. I. . .OLLIE! MOVE!"

Batman rushed over to Green Arrow, crashing into him with a shoulder block. Although he had been able to save Ollie from the impact, the telekinetic blast caught Batman square in the chest. The dark knight soared through the air, crumpling to the ground a mere inches from the edge of the rooftop.

"BATMAN!" Dinah and Ollie both yelled.

"You rotten bastard!" Dinah and Ollie both turned around and looked into the furious eyes of one of the Justice League's oldest enemies. "You imprison me, the Martian takes my powers, and then you let some demon victimize my body!"

Black Canary breathed in deeply as Green Arrow rushed forward to take on the Key up close. The telepath paralyzed them both, suspending them in the air with his telepathy.

"This is ALL YOUR FAULT!" the Key screamed to anyone who was capable of hearing him. The gaunt man strode forward, continuing to hold Dinah and Ollie aloft as he picked up a steel-tipped arrow from the ground. "I didn't ask for all this power that I can't control! I didn't ask for all this pain! You people could have helped me instead of just putting me in jail over and over again! You didn't help ease my pain, so I think I'll just cause a bit of my own!"

As the Key raised the arrow high above his head, a shot rang out. The bullet entered the back of the telepath's head, rushing through the Key's brainpan before shattering the man's skull. The telepath slumped to the ground, dead well before he finished falling.

"Don't say I never did anything for you, old man."

His apparent duty done, the Red Hood leapt off the radio tower. By the time Dinah and Ollie had broken free from their paralysis and rushed to the side of the building, he was already long gone.

* * *

It had taken about an hour to clear everything with Gotham City authorities, the short span of time thanks in no small part to the patience and tactful behavior of the Black Canary. Of course, Batman and his team had left the scene well before they could be identified by anyone, a maneuver that both irritated and impressed Oliver Queen. After a brief communiqué, the six of them agreed to reconvene on the roof of one of Black Mask's old safe houses. By the time Dawn, Dinah, and Ollie had arrived, Lloyd and Stephanie were relaxing on top of a rusted air conditioner chatting amicably and scarfing down something they had somehow managed to fetch from a fast food restaurant despite the fact that neither one of them had bothered to change clothes.

That was five minutes ago and Dinah is still marveling over Stephanie.

"Ha! The last time we worked together you didn't know the ass end of your own costume!" Dinah exclaimed as she affectionately messed with Stephanie's hair. "Now look at you! Big bad Green Lantern beatin' up Deathstroke!"

Robin continued to attempt to slink away from Dinah's enthusiasm, quite surprising given her own proclivity for obnoxious behavior. "Um, actually it was me and Lloyd who beat him up." Stephanie was of two minds about this sudden wellspring of attention. On one hand, she was pleased as punch that a woman she had idolized since she was five years old was singing her praises. On the other hand, she couldn't imagine a more humiliating way for her idol to do so short of sending a musical telegram.

_There is no way Lloyd will ever let me forget about this. _

Dinah continued chatting merrily. "So, have you told Timbo about your triumphant return yet or are you still planning a dramatic happy reunion?"

Stephanie nervously bowed her head. "Um, I haven't really, well, told him. . ."

It only took Dinah a moment to recover herself. "Oh, jeez. Will you listen to me? I'm getting nosier than Oracle." Stephanie tried to smile at that, but just couldn't work up to it. "Hey! Chin up, girlfriend. You did a hell of a job today. Be proud about what you did today and don't worry about what's comin' up tomorrow until it gets here."

Suddenly, Stephanie found herself smiling.

"So Jason escaped?" Lloyd said after taking a sip from his plastic cup.

"I'm afraid so." Batman replied. "He managed to escape from his restraints and he incapacitated Alfred with a tranquilizer dart."

"Is the old fella all right?" asked Green Arrow.

Batman nodded. "He's feeling quite apologetic, but I imagine he'll be back to chastising our behavior in no time."

"Deathstroke and the Society boys gave us the slip as well." Stephanie added.

"We all share a bit of the blame for that one," Batman said. "We should have recognized that the Society was bound to have other teleportation specialists within its employ. We'll have to be more careful in the future."

Lloyd took a final swig from his coffee cup as he leapt off the air conditioner. "So, to review, we captured everybody and ended up with nobody."

"Well, we did save Gotham City and we took down a living personification of evil," Stephanie chirped. "That's gotta be worth _something_!"

"It's a full day in my book," Dinah said. "Well, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I'm afraid I've got to get going." She looked towards Lloyd and Stephanie. "Any chance you young fellows still have enough in you to get the two of us back to my car?"

"Sure thing, Miss Lance." Stephanie replied cheerily.

"Whoa, Pretty Bird! Two of us? You're gonna be leavin' Raven here in Gotham?"

Dinah turned to Ollie with an ill-behaved look in her eyes as she tapped her palms against her thighs in a rhythmic fashion. "Uh, no. I'm taking Dawn with me back to Metropolis. Looks like you're gonna have to find your own ride back to Star City. Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll be able to find somebody that can help you out."

Bruce and Ollie looked at one another, neither one of them quite ready to consider the implication behind that statement.

"By the way Bats," Dinah went on. "Is there anything you'd like me to say to Babs?"

Batman didn't need a great deal of time to think of something.

"I'm sure you'll think of the right thing to say."

* * *

Green Arrow drummed his fingers against the armrests of his seat, seemingly incapable of being able to remain entirely still. Batman, on the other hand, was no less than a human statue, his hands glued to the wheel and his eyes cast straight ahead as he peered into the night sky.

Ollie thought about half-heartedly asking if Batman happened to keep a DVD player on the Batplane but then he thought the better of it. A couple of minutes later, he considered posing a question or two about how the Batplane's engines were always so damn quiet, but that didn't leave the gate either.

_It shouldn't be this hard to start a _conversation, Ollie thought. _After all, it's not like we were exactly running out of things to talk about when we were beating the hell out of each other. _

Despite the difficulties, Oliver Queen was not a quitter, even when facing the daunting task of attempting to have a civil conversation with one of the most infuriating creatures ever to walk the planet Earth.

"Robin and that Lloyd kid did really well tonight."

Silence. It was hardly unexpected, but it still unnerved the archer.

"You got some good kids working with you there."

It took a while, but Batman finally found it within him to contribute to the conversation. "Yes, they're very efficient."

"Yep, yep." Ollie nodded, somehow encouraged by Bruce's profoundly mediocre input. "And it's a new Robin I see? A girl, this time."

Batman nodded curtly.

"Ya know. I got a new Speedy. Her name's Mia Dearden. Maybe you remember her? She was the girl in the house with me during all that Stanley Dover nonsense. Bit of a smart mouth on her, sort of like Roy back when he was her age. Still, she's comin' along great."

"That's good."

_All right_, Ollie thought. _We go from a four-word response to a two-word response_. _That's probably not a good thing_.

Despite his reservations, Ollie continued on verbally stumbling through this social wasteland. "Well, the thing is that she looks a lot like Robin. Same height, same build. So I figured. . ."

"Stephanie was Robin two weeks before you allowed Dearden to go on patrol. Even unintentionally, you've yet to have an original idea."

Ollie's mouth hung open for a moment or two in stunned silence before he slung himself backward into his seat. "SON OF A BITCH! I wasn't even trying to rip you off this time!"

Batman chuckled heartily. "You had her join the Titans and she's been training alongside Tim and it appears she's been holding her own. How long has she had formal training?"

Ollie leaned back in his seat. "Going on eight months this week. The kid's takin' to it like a duck to water. I can't take all the credit for it though. My boy's doin' most of the hard work."

"Connor's a good man." Batman replied, referring to the younger of the two Green Arrows. "It's a damn shame his father doesn't take after him."

"Nyuk nyuk, asshole." Ollie fired back and the two men shared a quiet laugh. "As much as we complain about the kids we take in, we sure like to take a lot of the credit for how they turned out, don't we?"

"We did have a part in it Oliver. The good and the bad."

Ollie's mind momentarily flashed back to the vision of a red-haired young man, a boy on the cusp of manhood, quivering on sweat-soaked sheets cursing his name while caught in the throes of withdrawal. "That we do, Mister Wayne."

The two of them sat in silence once again, the unobtrusive hum of the Batplane's engines serving as the only source of distraction available.

Of course, it was Ollie who spoke up first. "That Red Hood guy? Former Robin, right?"

"Yes."

"Is he why you asked me about how I came back to life a few months back?" Ollie didn't need a response from Batman to get the answer he needed. "Ah, hell Bruce. About what I said on the tower. . . I didn't. . ."

"No, Ollie. Envy didn't truly corrupt our emotions, it merely intensified them and brought them to the forefront. You meant what you said just as much as I meant what I said."

Ollie sighed as he ran a gloved hand through his blonde goatee. "What the hell happened to the world, Bruce? It wasn't this hard back in the day, was it?"

"It was. You know that. We were just too young and dumb to notice it at the time."

"I don't really know why I agreed with the mindwipes." Ollie knew he was treading on dangerous waters, but he knew that there wouldn't be a better time to address the metaphorical 900-pound elephant sitting between them. "I like to think that I was doing it to protect the people I cared about. That'd be the noble way to think of it. Maybe I was scared that I'd lose the little slice of freedom I had when I put on this mask. I mean, I could put on this costume and pretend that I was somebody that these assholes and super-powered murderers were afraid of rather than just some rich kid with a bunch of fancy weapons." Ollie said this last statement with a crooked smile, enjoying the exasperated look in Batman's eyes. "No offense," he added.

"We've both made a great many mistakes, Oliver."

"Indeed we have. But we have to keep on trying, don't we? If only to make up for the dumb stuff we did just before we said we'd try harder."

"Well, Oliver, it keeps life from getting boring."

Green Arrow shook his head in exasperation. "Did you _grow_ a sense of humor in the Batcave?"

"Lloyd and Stephanie refuse to leave me alone, they ignore the vast majority of my orders and they constantly critique everything I do. I had to either learn to give as good as I got or go insane."

"They're doin' ya a world of good, in my opinion."

"I agree. Of course, I'll never heard the end of it if I admit that to them."

"Potential blackmail," Ollie said appreciatively. "Christmas has officially come early."

Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen sat in a far more comfortable silence than before as they continued their cross-country flight to Star City.

"Things are going to get pretty hectic soon, aren't they?" asked Ollie.

"The Society is gunning for all of us, Ollie. They're situated in Gotham and we're trying to hold them there but I'm not certain what's coming next or what their full intentions may be."

"Well, if you need another man on the wall. . ."

"You'll be the first person I call, Ollie. Well, after Superman, in any case."

"Now see, Bats. That's just damn cold."


	13. An Unexpected Distraction

Issue #13

A Momentary Distraction

It was business as usual within the inner recesses of Wayne Manor. Of course, "business as usual" here referred to three people discussing their intentions to counter an attempted hostile takeover of the free world by a society of super-villains, so perhaps the term didn't necessarily apply here.

Regardless of semantics, Lloyd Thomas and Stephanie Brown were settled into their usual seating arrangements, looking quite relaxed despite their many pressing concerns. Tonight's key speaker, as per usual, was Bruce Wayne, the costumed vigilante known as the Batman. The detective stood in front of his massive, mainframe computer; a remarkable device that was capable of processing and storing information at a speed and capacity that would have made NSA hackers green with envy. The man was the model of stern authoritativeness and his sweeping presence demanded attention.

"Although I am rather loathe to present you with this troubling bit of news," he began, "If the information that I have just received is correct, and I have been greatly assured that it is, then it would be better to tell you now than unknowingly confront it later."

The two younger inhabitants of the cave both displayed their frustration, both of them clearly having their feel of situations to defuse and bad news to endure. Lloyd rolled his eyes irritably while Stephanie audibly groaned while slumping her head so that her short, blonde hair kept the look on her face from view.

"Right then, boss." Lloyd replied. "No use bitchin' 'bout it. What we got comin' against us this time?"

"It appears that the wizard Shazam has been killed."

Batman stated this vital bit of intelligence in his usual somber and sober manner. It was hardly an inappropriate choice of timbre, for not only had the late magician served as the advisor of some of the planet's most powerful warriors but he was also the guardian of a coterie of magical artifacts and machinations that could be incredibly dangerous if they fell into the wrong hands. However, Shazam's influence was not merely limited to this planet alone. The wizard's name was known as far away as Oa, and most of the words spoken were usually those of praise or at least respect.

However, it was quite apparent that this respect did not extend towards Batman's two companions within the Batcave. Stephanie seemed to be caught in an uncontrollable paroxysm of sniggering, while Lloyd's grin seemed quite ready to burst from its seems.

"And just _what _is so funny about all of this?" asked Batman despite already having a sound suspicion of what the answer might be.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Stephanie said as she tried to regain her composure. "The guy's name was _Shazam_?" Batman sighed irritably as his partner continued to chuckle. "Well, excuse us for finding that funny!"

"You better be careful, pet," Lloyd warned his comrade-in-arms. "Say the bloke's name in vain an' ya might have the almighty Floyd the Barber on your arse!"

Stephanie's guffawing was beginning to grow into outright laughter. "SHA-_ZAM_!"

"You know, Steph, I once yelled Shazam when I got an erection." Stephanie laughed so hard from Lloyd's disgusting comment that she nearly fell out of her chair.

"As much as I enjoy being immersed with your sophomoric stupidity, I assure you that this is a serious matter." Batman forcibly pressed a button on the mainframe. Images of various artifacts appeared upon the large screen. "Though I will admit that I am hardly an authority on the world of magic, I know enough to recognize that Shazam was largely responsible for a significant portion of our planet's defenses against both the outerworldly and the supernatural. I assure you that this is a loss that couldn't have come at a worse time."

Lloyd bobbed his head, sobered by the newfound information. "I think Mao might have had some contact with the old man, but I never met the bloke meself. Gods and demons never really produce a healthy mix. Any chance we have a ways or means to bring everything back to status quo?"

Batman nodded. "We may not have the manpower to fully engage in this state of affairs, but I have found a small task we can perform to lend a helping hand. As you may know, Lloyd, Shazam was responsible for safeguarding a variety of magical artifacts and entities, including the Seven Sins."

"Ooh!" Stephanie piped in. "We got one of those! See? We're already helping!"

"We're helpful little idiots," Lloyd added.

"Indeed you did. However, there are still a great many threats that must be dealt with and according to my source within the Society, one of these threats may be able to give us a lead to the location of the Brother Eye satellite."

"That's the best news I've heard all day," Stephanie said excitedly. "So let's go and get to it!"

"Actually, Robin. I'm leaving that task to Lloyd. I'm putting you on a separate assignment. You'll be going to Metropolis. . ."

"WHAT!" Stephanie screeched at the mention of her most hated city. "Oh, come on B. . ."

Batman was quick to interrupt his partner's whining. "Rein in your complaints, Robin. I've arranged for you to meet with a contact of mine. He will take you to where you have to go." The detective picked up a pair of manila folders from a nearby file cabinet, placing one in each hand before handing them to his expected recipients. "Kindly examine the information you'll find in these files, as doing so may very well be crucial towards successfully completing the tasks I have assigned to you. You will also find an array of falsified identification documents that will allow you to get to where you need to go."

Stephanie was still fuming about the fact that she had to travel to the Land of Superman. She picked up her fake driver's license with a frown. "So my new name's Samantha Graves, huh? Man, I should file a complaint with the superhero labor union. This has gotta be a violation of my rights."

"Don't bother, Blondie. From what I hear, it's nothin' but a corporate nightmare of red tape." Lloyd momentarily tore himself away from the contents of his own file folder in order to peruse Stephanie's. "Well, Mao was always tellin' me I should be open towards new experiences. Am I getting a contact as well?"

"You're still capable of sensing specific signatures of magic, are you not?"

Lloyd shrugged. "Well, I'll probably have a bit of trouble if you're askin' me to try and key in on somebody tryin' to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but I shouldn't have any trouble finding something major."

"Then you shouldn't have any difficulties finding what I'm asking you to look for," Batman replied.

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Stephanie said as she clamped her file shut. "I've got an assignment. Dumbass has an assignment. What are you going to be doing?"

Lloyd resisted the temptation to thwack his partner on the back of her head before voicing his own concerns. "Tweety does have a point. Lest we forget, you have a long standing history of getting into dangerous situations when you're left to your own devices. No offense. Just professional courtesy and all that."

"Well, thank you for that and thank you for having so much faith in my capabilities," Batman said acerbically "However, I assure you that the both of you would be better focusing your energy upon the tasks I have given you. I assure you that I have no desire to draw the attention of the Society with the few resources available to me and that my time will be better spent gathering necessary information while serving as an informant for the both of you."

"Look at this," Lloyd said with artificial derision. "Sendin' the both of us out while he stays inside his safe and cozy cave? Doesn't seem right, does it Steph?"

"No, I actually like this idea."

"Oh, bugger you blondie."

Robin stuck out her tongue, a truly pithy response if there ever was. "Come to think of it, how are _we_ supposed to go out and about without drawing the Society's attention?"

"Or the OMACs?" Lloyd added.

"Or the unparalled, vengeance-fueled might of Floyd the Barber."

"Quit stealing my lame jokes, Steph." Lloyd warned.

"Not stealing. Merely borrowing, buddy," Stephanie replied as she patted Lloyd's right knee.

"Green Arrow and Black Canary have been kind enough to warn the rest of the superhero community about the Society. With more eyes upon them, my source is informing me that the Society is choosing to lay low. Thus, we should be able to move with relatively little trouble so long as we don't call attention to ourselves." Batman made a point to give Stephanie a significant look as he said this.

"Sure like to give this source of yours a fruit basket," said Lloyd. "Just who is this source that keeps giving us these lovely bits of information anyway?"

"With any luck, you'll be able to meet them soon enough." Batman replied without really answering. "As for the constructs, perhaps the both of you have noticed while watching the gathered footage I have collected that the constructs have only chosen to confront superheroes in situations where there were few prying eyes?" Lloyd and Stephanie both nodded. "I've decided that we're going to take advantage of this aspect of Brother Eye's programming. Thus, I direct your attention to the rear pocket of your folders."

Lloyd and Stephanie hastily responded to Batman's request, flipping their dossiers to one side and pulling out the set of papers that their boss had directed them to. The moment she recognized what she held in her hands, Stephanie groaned dramatically and slumped further into her chair. Lloyd, on the other hand, grinned in anticipation.

"Well," he said, "here's hopin' they've at least got beverage cart service."

* * *

"_American Airlines Flight 783 flying from Gotham City to Metropolis will now begin boarding for all passengers."_

Feeling not unlike a bleating sheep, Stephanie Brown (or Samantha Graves, it depended upon who you talked to) slung her travel bag over her left shoulder and shuffled towards her gate. After showing her boarding pass to a frayed-looking attendant, she marveled in the sheer incompetence of the airlines industry as she _slooooooowly _made her way towards her seat while absently watching her fellow passengers attempt take several hours to stuff their carry-on luggage into the overhead storage bins.

And God damned if she didn't get a _middle _seat. Yes, she wanted to emphasize the word middle. Her boss was the head of a Fortune 500 Company that had access to some of the juiciest government contracts in world's history and he couldn't divvy up enough feddy to get her a decent seat! Still grumbling over the unfairness of it all, she decided to just place her bag underneath her seat, thus allowing her to focus her frustrations upon the endless and fruitless struggle of attempting to sit comfortably within the seat of a commercial airplane.

This was only Stephanie's second trip on an airplane. Yes, she had logged quite a few hours in the Batplane recently, but the sleek, efficient jet craft was a long ways away from the floating bus that she was currently shepherded into. Her first trip had been a bag of mixed results. The good news was that it was one of the few outings that her entire family had been able to go on together. Apparently her dear old dad had worked up some cash (no doubt through purely legal and ethical means) and he wanted to take her and Mom down to the Caribbean. The bad news was that it was one of the few outings that her entire family had been able to go on together. The combination of cabin pressure and bad airline food caused her to throw up and that caused her dad to yell at her. Mom didn't say anything, of course, because she was worried that she'd piss Arthur off and then he'd run off again. . .

Long story short, Stephanie had a fairly strained relationship with the world of commercial aviation.

A middle-aged man wearing a black sweater and matching khakis wordlessly sat down next to her in the aisle seat. A few moments later, Stephanie helped some concerned parents place their little girl into the nearby window seat. Although she had been a model of courtesy, she couldn't help but notice that the mother and father continued to shoot her some very suspicious glares. Apparently the idea of encountering a compassionate airline traveler was a completely foreign concept to them.

Despite mom and dad's suspicions, Stephanie did not grab the child and leap out the emergency exit and the plane took off without a hitch. As it climbed into the clouds, Stephanie turned to the little girl and gave her a cheery smile.

"So why are you going to Metropolis, little lady?"

"We're gonna go see my Grandma," the girl replied quietly.

"Huh. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's okay. She smells like lemons."

Stephanie laughed at the girl's straightforward description. "Well, it's good of you to be honest about that, although I'd keep that opinion to yourself if I were you. My name's Steph."

"I'm Chrissy." Chrissy leaned forward in her seat and looked sideways to get a good luck at the quiet businessman. "What's your name, mister?"

Stephanie joined young Chrissy in staring at the silent fellow. "I don't think we're going to get too much out of him. See, he's what's called an O.M.A.C."

Little Chrissy screwed up her face as if she had suddenly caught a whiff of her grandmother. "What's an O.M.A.C.?"

"Weeeelll, an O.M.A.C. is sort of like a robot that's used to beat up superheroes."

To Stephanie's surprise, little Chrissy didn't seem to be the least bit frightened after receiving this bit of news. "No way," she said defiantly.

"Yuh huh," Stephanie replied. "See? Check it out!" She waved her hand directly in front of the businessman's face at a distance of only inches. Getting no response, the young heroine unbuckled her safety belt and nearly went nose-to-nose. Stephanie began to contort her face into a variety of goofy expressions. Although Chrissy seemed to find the display to be rather amusing, judging from her joyful laughter, the "businessman" remained stock-still. "See what I mean?"

"But why's he on a plane?" Chrissy asked. "Do you think he's gonna go after Superman?"

Stephanie tried not to cringe. _Don't blame her for liking Captain Lanternjaw She's too young to know any better. _"Nope. I'm afraid he's after me. Don't worry, though. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you, your folks, or anyone else."

"_You're a superhero?_" Chrissy asked excitedly.

"Uh-huh."

"Which superhero are you?"

Stephanie paused as she contemplated her answer.

"I'm Supergirl," she replied.

* * *

Stephanie was wrong about two things.

One, it had taken 20 minutes for her to clear airport security and take to the skies of Metropolis, thus giving the construct the opportunity to attack her. She had anticipated that it would take at least a half-hour.

Two, it wasn't just one O.M.A.C. that had been on the plane. It turned out that two of his buddies had joined him.

The numbers game left Stephanie hard pressed to mount a significant offensive while avoiding the lasers firing from the optic lenses of her opponents and dodging the slashes of the constructs' nanobyte talons that shined brightly in the high sunlight. Deciding to momentarily throw caution to the wind, Robin created some claws of her own and rushed into the fray. She sliced into the stomach of one of the constructs with her claws before sending the construct hurtling through the clouds with a hard punch that shattered the construct's optic lens. The other two rushed at her, one high and one low. She had managed to repel the assault of the latter but the former one used its talons to scratch her across her cheek.

Stephanie felt the blood running down her face as the ring worked quickly to close the wound. Using her ring to generate a blast that momentarily stunned the construct that had wounded her, Stephanie turned tail and flew off towards what she had presumed to be downtown Metropolis. While Stephanie mulled over her options in how to end this fight, an answer she didn't quite anticipate arrived in a flash of blue, red, and gold.

"I don't believe that's the proper way to treat a young lady," said the man behind the blur.

Robin had to take extraordinary measures to remain completely neutral at the sight of her "rescuer". After all, the man's All-American good looks and the heroic resonance in the man's posture and speech absolutely screamed for worthy attention, regardless of one may actually think about the man who was more famous and known the world over than any religious or political figure.

And there was that spit curl. That fucking ridiculous spit curl.

"IDENTIFIED. TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA-ONE—SUPERMAN."

"Alpha One!" Robin exclaimed with a touch of indigence. "That's not fair. How come he gets to be Alpha One?"

The three constructs simultaneously rushed after the Man of Steel as one, not even bothering to pay one lick of attention to Stephanie. With an indecipherable whirr of motion far too fast to be seen by the normal human eye, Superman dodged the combined assault with ease. Even Stephanie had a difficult time following the action as the living symbol of truth, justice, and the American way pummeled the constructs with what appeared to be a practiced ease. Taking only moments to momentarily bat two of the constructs aside, he caught the fist of the third construct with an open palm before delivering a devastating right cross that shattered the construct's optic lens and sent it careening into its' tottering compatriots.

"_Oh, that's why._"

Despite their previous abysmal failure, the constructs were quick to carry on their assault. Decidedly deciding that she wasn't just going to stay on the sidelines, Stephanie amped up the energy output from her ring and flew to Superman's side.

"They're only meant to tackle one threat at a time," Stephanie said as she effectively pelted the constructs with a barrage of energy blasts. "If they're focused on you, then my ring can do some damage!"

"Is that right?" Superman asked while he traded punches with one of the constructs. "I have to warn you. There are innocent people within those constructs."

"I know that. Don't worry," Stephanie said as she continued her long-distance assault. "I promise I won't hurt the humans inside. I'll only attack the virus."

The moment it took for Superman to consider Stephanie's notion had allowed the construct he had been fighting with to land a punch to the Kryptonian's prominent jaw. Superman's head only moved an inch or two in recoil before landing a far more potent punch of his own. "All right. The floor is yours, young lady."

As Superman continued to draw the ire and fire of the constructs, Stephanie took a moment to focus the vast reservoir of power stored within her ring. She gave her surprise partner a brief moment of warning before cutting loose, allowing the Man of Steel to escape the blasting zone only moments before the enormous burst of energy struck the constructs at full force. Stephanie held true to her word, making absolute certainty to continue her attack only until the synthetic coating of the constructs had faded away to reveal the occupied human underneath it. As the defeated opponents plummeted through the skies, Superman managed to fetch two of them while Stephanie used her ring to create a giant, green baseball glove in order to catch the third.

The battle now emphatically over, Superman flew up towards Stephanie, the two O.M.A.C. hosts safely secured atop his broad shoulders. "I wasn't aware that the Earth had been assigned another Green Lantern." He said this statement without the slightest hint of accusation or distrust. Though it was a rather unusual reaction, Stephanie couldn't help but find it to be rather refreshing.

"Oh, um, well, I'm, er, kinda new." Stephanie hadn't stammered this much since she had to try and spell onomatopoeia at her third-grade spelling bee. "But, uh. I'm a good guy. Really! Hal Jordan can vouch for me! Just ask him!"

Superman looked quite amused at Stephanie's nervousness, as if such an instance were commonplace for him. "Take a breath, young lady. I trust you."

Robin did as she was told, running her hand through her disheveled hair in order to soothe her nerves. "Sorry about that. Thank you for the save, sir."

"Not a problem at all. I'm always happy to lend a helping hand. I don't mean any offense, but you seem rather young to be a Green Lantern. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Superman whistled. "I apologize if you took any offense from what I just said. You did a fine job keeping the constructs away from the city. I imagine the Green Lantern Corps are happy to have you."

"Oh, er, thank you." Stephanie suddenly found her boots to be absolutely fascinating.

"So, may I ask what brings you to Metropolis? Is there anything that I can do to lend a hand?"

"Um, that's okay. I was just going to meet someone about a magical artifact. It's nothing I can't handle."

Superman seemed to accept that explanation, despite the shaky and half-panicked way Stephanie had expressed it. One of the advantages of being able to hear another person's heartbeat from miles away was that you could tell when somebody was telling the truth. "All right then. I'm going to take these three down to S.T.A.R. Labs for examination. They've been working to find a cure for whatever virus these poor people have been infected with and it's important that we put these subjects into stasis before they can harm any civilians."

"That's fine," Stephanie acquiesced. "I, um, didn't bring my portable emergency room with me anyway."

Superman smiled kindly as he placed the third victim within the crook of his right arm. "I won't hold that against you. Take care, Green Lantern."

Stephanie could barely manage to work up the effort to wave goodbye as Superman flew away. As he faded from her sight line, Stephanie frowned and repeatedly slapped her palm against her forehead.

"Portable emergency room," she said bitterly. "Oh yeah, that's real smooth."

She shook it off. So what if she made herself look like a fool in front of the world's greatest hero? She had a job to do and, damn it she was going to do it. She was going to find her contact, grab the magical whatsit, and head on back to Gotham where she belonged as soon as possible.

"Right then." Stephanie said as she turned toward downtown Metropolis. "Time to find this Clark Kent guy."

* * *

The Step.

That's what this town was named.

El Paso.

The Step.

Lloyd had spent several scant moments during his flight pondering over who would give their home that kind of name? He was fairly certain there was some figurative or metaphorical meaning behind it all, but it still seemed ridiculous.

Then again, Lloyd thought that to be a pretty common American trend: taking perfectly good words from another language, throwing them into a blender, and naming restaurants, casinos, and housing complexes after what comes out. Of course, now that he had started to put some genuine thought into it, he started to realize that the practice wasn't just limited to America. One time in Tokyo, he had eaten at a complex called the Ho Ho Tater Gourmet Lounge where there wasn't a potato to be found. In Germany, he had eaten at a Grecian restaurant whose name, which Lloyd discovered after taking quite a bit of time to translate, was the Happy Tree Tea House.

And now he was within the metropolitan haven known as The Step. Well, if anything else, Lloyd could take heart in the fact that all dialects and cultures could be united under the banner of maligning and misusing all cultures other than their own.

Lloyd realized that he was drifting away from the task at hand. Then again, it wasn't as if this assignment had required a great deal of detective work. He had sensed the presence of the object in question well before his flight had even touched down and it took a bit of effort to further zero in on his target. Thus after a five-hour flight, one five-minute taxi ride and a brisk half-mile trip on a stolen bicycle, Lloyd Thomas, Batman's own magical bloodhound, had found his quarry.

Unfortunately, Lloyd wasn't the only person who had found what he was looking for. His search had taken him to the storeroom of the entirely unimpressive headquarters of the El Paso Police Department. However, a well-crafted glamour and some tactful telepathic manipulation of the fine folks at the E.P.P.D. was all that was required to avoid this potential obstacle and catch a glimpse of his prize.

The scarab of the Blue Beetle.

Of course, that led him to the current situation at hand and Lloyd's second problem of the afternoon.

"Now you listen to me, junior! This doohickey is what's going to put me back in the big time and I'm not gonna let some punk kid take it from me after all the trouble I went through to get it. You hear me?"

His opponent, for lack of a better word, was sporting a polyester sport coat, taxicab-striped pants, and an alarmingly green alien suit complete with antenna. Some knew him as Brum-El of the planet Schwab. Others as Argh!YLe!. Most people, though, either didn't know anything about him and those who did know about him often wish they didn't.

For the sake of functionality, however, we'll just call him Ambush Bug.

"_Why do they call a scarab a scarab_?" Lloyd thought. _"I mean, where did we get that word from? Is it Egyptian, maybe? That would make sense. 'S where all the big stories 'bout beetles and reincarnation originated, right? Or was that China?"_

"HEY! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME OR WHAT?" Ambush Bug shouted.

Lloyd sighed and forced himself to focus his attention upon the furtive little weirdo before him. "Yes, mate. As unfortunate as it may be, I _can_ hear you. And what do you mean about trouble? All you did was teleport in 'ere! Least I had the stones to take on the blue boys on me own. 'S not like you pulled an Ethan Hunt 'ere!"

"You shut up! Just SHUT UP!" Ambush Bug began to break into slow, heavy breaths. "Okay! Okay! Back up! Just do the exercises your therapist taught you, Irwin. Don't let anyone doubt your value or demean your accomplishments!"

While Ambush Bug went about his prescribed motivational exercises, Lloyd went ahead with his pitch. "Look, mate. I got nothing against you but that thing in your hand could be the key to saving millions of lives and I don't really have the time to dilly-dally. Jus' give me the scarab and I'll make sure you don't get locked up by the cops and you can go back to attending X-Files conventions and writing love letters to Seven of Nine."

Much to Lloyd's surprise and consternation, Ambush Bug did not buckle under the legitimate threat. "You can't scare me!" Irwin said as he fearfully clutched the scarab to his chest as if it were his newborn child. "You don't know me! I'm Ambush Bug! Nobody can catch me!"

With a faint pop, the teleporter faded away from sight, not even leaving the slightest trace of polyester. Now phenomenally perturbed, Lloyd shook his head to and fro and placed his hands on his hips.

"And the day was going so well!"

* * *

The sum total of Stephanie's experience with the newspaper industry began and ended with her frequent attempts to throw newspapers at various paperboys. Thus, she was entering quite the foreign environment as she set foot into the massive confines of _The Daily Planet_. Despite her inexperience, she recognized the fact that walking up to the front desk and asking to speak with a newspaper's ace reporters was probably not the best way to gain an audience. Still, it was either that or call Batman for help and after the day that she had, the last thing she needed was to be spoon-fed on how to do a simple errand.

On the bright side, she had a name to drop.

"Hello, I'm here to see Mr. Clark Kent. I'm an associate of Bruce Wayne."

The secretary gave Stephanie a dubious once over. "Of course you are dear."

Being a native citizen of Gotham City, Stephanie Brown was quite well versed in the field of rude behavior and this little display didn't deter her in the slightest. "Ma'am, I assure you that I'm quite serious about this. It's very important."

"Young lady, if you wish to speak with Mr. Kent you need to make an appointment. At the very minimum, you should contact the news desk receptionist, not bust through the front door."

"But I didn't _bust _through the door! Look, I'm sorry if I don't know the proper protocol for asking to talk to a reporter, but this is important business and I've had a very stressful day. All I need is to speak with him for five minutes, tops. Then I'll be out of your life forever and you'll never have to deal with my perfectly rational decision making again. If, however, you _don't _direct me to Mr. Kent, then I'll have to start being irrational." Stephanie looked forward to stare into the secretary's unconvinced eyes. "Don't make me irrational. You wouldn't like me when I'm irrational."

Before Roberta Martinez could call security to rid herself of the increasingly irritated teenager, a tall, broad-shouldered man placed a sturdy hand on her shoulder.

"Take it easy, Roberta. I'll be happy to talk with her."

"Are you certain, Mr. Kent?"

"It's quite all right. I'm sure this is a legitimate source."

What Roberta and Stephanie didn't know, of course, was that Mr. Kent had heard the conversation from his office on the thirty-second floor. It had taken a moment for him to recognize the voice of the Green Lantern he had helped out earlier, but once he had done so he had quickly made his way down from his desk to investigate. Despite his peaceful and so-called "aw shucks" attitude, Superman was more than intelligent enough to recognize the fact that the world of superherodom often left little room for sheer coincidence.

Clark took another glance at the young woman. It seemed odd to him, but he developed a nagging feeling that he had seen her before. Before today, that is. He decided to table that suspicion for a later time, however, and decided to deal with the matter at hand. "All right, young lady. How can I help you today?"

As Stephanie looked up into the baby-blue eyes, the All-American grin, and the exceedingly cleft chin, the stress of the previous twelve hours faded away. She cocked her head back-and-forth, taking in the handsome features. As Clark Kent raised his eyebrows at her, Stephanie's pale-blue eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"HOLY SHIT! YOU'RE SUPERMAN!"


	14. Send in the Rejects

Issue #14

Send in the Rejects

"Ow! Ow! You're kinda chokin' me here! OWWWW! Lemme go, ya big cornfed oaf!"

Lois Lane suddenly found herself compelled to discover the source of these bizarre exclamations that coursed through the clamor of _The Daily Planet_ newsroom. After a 15-year career wherein she had acquired the reputation as a reporter who knew how to find a good story, Lois had honed a finely tuned eye for identifying any possible foundation for an intriguing story. Perhaps that was the aspect of her personality that had originally attracted her to Clark, her ability to notice that perceptible aura of intrigue that seemed to circulate around the wide-eyed, hayseed son of a farmer from Middle of Nowhere, Middle of Nowhere.

Despite her long-acquired talent to expect the unexpected however, Lois couldn't quite rein in her surprise upon the sight of her husband, a man who was usually the picture of self-control and serenity, carrying a blonde-haired teenage girl by the scruff of her sea green sweater as if he were a lioness carrying one of her unruly cubs. The girl was twisting back and forth rapidly in her efforts to escape, although Lois couldn't help but notice that the teen could quite keep herself from smiling. As peculiar as this scene appeared to be, it didn't appear to be attracting the attention of the other _Planet_ writers, many of whom were no doubt working feverishly to finish up their deadlines. The scene grew even stranger when Clark calmly swung open the door to the nearby men's room, heaved the girl inside, and then went in after her.

"Um, Miss Kent? Why did Clark throw that girl into the bathroom?"

Lois somehow managed to keep a straight face throughout the absurdity. After all, a reporter's greatest quality was their ability to maintain professionalism under fire. "First honey, for the hundredth time, please just go ahead and call me Lois. Second, that's exactly what I'm going to find out."

"Look! I said I was sorry for just blurting it out like that! Maybe it just seemed so obvious to me that I just sorta figured that everybody already knew! And besides! It's not like she believed me! She already thought I was just some fruitcase!"

Clark hardly seemed appeased by Stephanie's apology. "Young lady, how would you like it if I went around telling everyone that you were a Green Lantern?"

"I thought that your identity was just public knowledge! I mean, it's not like you're making some great effort to hide the fact. You don't wear anything to hide your face! The suit that you're wearing doesn't do anything to cover up all those muscles and you barely change your voice! The only thing different is that you don't have that weird looking spit curl. Just how do you do that anyway?"

"I'm wearing glasses!" Clark exclaimed, suddenly feeling very defensive despite the fact that his attacker was a 16-year-old girl.

"Oh, like that would fool anybody!"

Clark sighed. Needless to say, he was hardly in the mood to have this type of conversation. "Just why did you come here anyway?"

"It's just like I told that Nazi interrogator subbing in as a desk clerk!" Stephanie said as she moved towards him. "Bruce Wayne sent me here to speak with you! I thought it was kind of odd at first that he'd send me to some reporter for something like this but now that I know who you are this whole thing is starting to make a little more sense. . ."

Clark could tell from Stephanie's steady heartbeat that she was telling the truth, but the warning bells started to ring. It was quite obvious that this was very tricky ground he was stepping into. "You. . . know who Bruce Wayne is, don't you?"

Now it was Stephanie's turn to be wary. _Did this guy know who Batman was_?

"Uh, yeah. . ."

"That Bruce is. . ."

"Yeah. . ."

"That he's Batman?"

Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. "Yep! Uh-huh! I know that Bruce Wayne is Batman! I'm the new Robin!"

Now Clark was really beginning to doubt his ability to read the girl. "You're Robin?"

"Uh-huh."

_Oh, Bruce. Don't tell me you fired **another **one! _"What happened to Tim?"

"I replaced him," Stephanie replied calmly. "He's working in Bludhaven now."

Clark sighed and began to rub his temples. He didn't know how but he just _knew _that somewhere, somehow, Bruce was laughing himself silly about this. "Are there any other Robins out there that I don't know about?"

"That depends," Stephanie replied. Her tone seemed to be halfway between bemusement and caution. "How many Robins do you know about?"

Clark groaned, absolutely refusing to engage in this fruitless debate. "All right. The point is I am attempting to keep an air of anonymity when I'm at my other job! Now, I would appreciate it a great deal if you kept this knowledge of my identity a secret."

Stephanie grinned saucily and sidled up to Clark. "And what're you gonna do if I don't? Maybe you'll superkiss me and make me forget?"

Of course, the gods of fate and comedic timing chose this precise moment for Lois Lane to swing open the bathroom door and see the peculiar sight of her husband, a man who had performed many of the most phenomenal feats of strength and courage ever documented on any medium, stumbling and crashing into a sink like an acne-ridden 13-year-old boy.

"Young lady, will you please stop making advances on my husband. As for you Smallville, what the hell is going on?"

Luckily for all parties involved, the arrival of his loving wife caused Clark to regain his normal composure. "This young lady works for Bruce. Apparently she's the new Robin."

"What happened to Tim?"

"She/I replaced him." Clark and Stephanie respectively replied.

"I see." Lois gave the young woman an appreciative nod. "So Bruce finally got another girl on his team. Well, points to him for equal opportunity."

Stephanie broke away from Clark and walked towards Lois, apparently finding the woman to be far more interesting than the world's greatest hero. "And you said you were Superman's wife?" She extended her hand. "Hi! I'm Stephanie Brown!"

Lois didn't expect so much amenable behavior to come from one of the "Batclan" as Clark sometimes liked to put it, but she took it in stride and shook the young lady's hand warmly. "Lois Lane. Pleased to meet you." Lois couldn't help but notice that Stephanie had quite the inquisitive stare still focused upon her. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Stephanie continued to look at Lois curiously. "I don't know. I just figured that Mrs. Superman would be somebody more, you know. . ."

Lois gave the young lady a prim smile. After all, it wasn't as if the young lady was the first person to come to such an assumption. "It's Miss Lane, Stephanie, and I seem to get along all right."

"So. . . you and Supes do. . . well, y'know. . ."

"Oh, Great Caesar's Ghost!" Clark murmured as he resisted the temptation to slam his head against the mirrors.

Lois did a far better job maintaining her composure. After all, it wasn't as if the young lady was the first person to come to that assumption either. "Trust me, little lady, we get along _juuuust _fine.

As Lois and Stephanie both chortled at the expense and Superman explored the possibility of fleeing the country (it would only take a couple of seconds, after all), another person made their presence felt.

"Um, why are all of you talking about sex in the bathroom?"

So it was within this rather outlandish state of affairs that Stephanie Brown had her first meeting with Kara Zo'rel, the 16-year-old cousin of Superman and the heroine tentatively known as Supergirl.

Judging from the shy, reserved demeanor that the young woman was expressing, it hardly appeared that the young lady was capable of trading punches with the most malicious and powerful creatures imaginable. She had a model's build: lithe and tall with colt-like legs and a long, elegant neck. Her deep blonde hair hung just past her trim shoulders and her faded blue jeans and t-shirt gave her the appearance of a young woman who just came to the city from the Midwestern farmlands, a rather fitting masquerade given her somewhat secret identity. In fact, the only aspect about her that seemed even remotely out of the ordinary were her eyes; eyes so blue that they may have very well been liquid crystal.

"We're _not_ talking about sex in the bathroom, Kara," Clark said sternly.

"Uh, you kinda were, cousin." Kara replied. As a recent arrival to the planet Earth, the youngest of the two surviving members of the House of El was not yet quite in tune with the Terran concept of subtle deceit to avoid embarrassment. "I could hear you guys from all the way across the hall."

Clark continued to wallow in embarrassment as Stephanie burst out into a paroxysm of laughter. Kara, on the other hand, looked like a doe in the headlights while attempting to discern just whatever could have brought about these wildly different reactions to a simple statement.

"My kingdom for a camcorder," Lois said.

To his inestimable credit, Clark was quick to recover. After taking a moment to make certain that there were no prying eyes or ears, he began to make the necessary introductions. "All right, all right. Stephanie Brown, I would like you to meet my cousin, Kara Zo'rel. Kara, this is Stephanie, an associate of Bruce's."

Stephanie could see Kara cinch up the moment Clark had finished speaking, as if the mere mention of Bruce Wayne seemed to sting her. Now, Steph knew that this was hardly an uncommon reaction, but she didn't even know that Bruce had even _met _this girl! Regardless of not knowing what necessarily caused this reaction however, the newest Robin could see the look in the young woman's eyes grow a great deal more frigid.

"Any chance I can get some water to go with that ice, girl?" Stephanie asked as she extended her hand.

Kara self-consciously sifted through her hair with her right hand before shaking Stephanie's hand with her left. She presumed that the stranger had read her expression but a small part of her couldn't help but think that Bruce's (Friend? Partner? Enemy?) wanted her to get her a cup of water.

She wisely thought it was the former. "Oh, um, I'm sorry about that. It's just that me and Batman and I haven't really gotten along well and," Kara paused in her apology, a gesture brought about not only through her syntactic slip-up but also for the fact that she may well have divulged some very secret information. Her sapphire eyes expanded almost comically as she considered the possible implications. "Oh! Oh no! I just. . ."

Stephanie lowered her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "It's cool. I know B is B. And don't worry, he gets that reaction from a lot of people." That brusque comment seemed to put Kara a little more at ease while Clark and Lois shared a knowing glance.

"Well, now that we have the introductions out of the way," said Clark. "Perhaps you could explain why Bruce sent you here to Metropolis instead of just contacting me himself?"

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't exactly certain why B had chosen her for this. She decided to stick with what she knew. "Bruce wanted me to get in touch with you because he thought you could help me get a hold of some magical doodad that Shazam was taking care of." Stephanie reached into her knapsack and pulled out the dossier that Bruce had given her. "He said it might help with finding Brother Eye."

Despite reading the tinges of doubt in Stephanie's voice, the young lady's words had certainly grabbed Clark's interest and he plucked the offered file from Stephanie's hand. He began leafing through the contents of the dossier. "Good, this will remind me that I need to speak with him after all this is over." He gave Stephanie a pointed glare while he said this, a gesture that was easily countered by a cheery smile. "I'll look into this right now. While you're here though, might I ask a favor of you?"

"Shoot," Stephanie replied calmly.

"Well, Kara just came in from Paradise Island to pay me a visit and it seems to me that she's feeling a little boxed in."

Kara hedged and grumbled, the archetypal reaction of a teenager who knows that somebody is saying something about them that's true but still would rather not hear about it.

Clark continued his pitch. "Perhaps you would be interested in having Kara show you around town? Take in some of the sights?"

Stephanie gave the nervous-looking young woman another once over. "Teenage superhero bonding, huh? Well, it's not exactly my strong suit but I'm game if she is."

Clark and Stephanie both turned to Kara, who seemed rather uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Yeah. Yeah, that's cool. You, uh, want to go leave now?"

"Fine by me," Stephanie replied before turning back to Clark. "I'll take a shot in the dark here and presume you know how to get in touch with me?"

"I should hope so, young lady. And, as I said before, I think I'll have a bit of a chat with your boss as well. Still, you two just have fun!"

"Okie doke! Thanks for the help, Supes. Mrs. Lane, it was nice to meet you!" Stephanie waved to the couple in a jovial fashion as she walked out of the bathroom with the exceedingly uncomfortable Kara Zo'rel in tow. Stephanie didn't have any problem placing her important mission into Superman's hands. Not only did it appeal to her innate nature to engage in idle behavior but as Bats himself had put it, if you couldn't trust Superman, who the hell can you trust?

As the two young ladies made their exit, Lois turned to look at her husband, a man who looked quite pleased with his recent round of decision making.

"Are you _sure _this is a good idea, honey?"

Clark calmly waved off his wife's legitimate concern. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Stephanie seems like a nice enough girl and Kara could use the time to bond with the people she's probably going to be working with in the future."

Lois met her husband's logic with an upraised eyebrow. "And of course, we all remember how well that worked out the last few times we tried that."

Clark grimaced. Yes, he most certainly remembered those disastrous results, but he stood firm. "I think there's quite a bit of difference between this situation and the last time, Lois. Besides, Stephanie seems like the kind of person that can draw somebody out."

"Oh, yeah," Lois agreed. "Very energetic. Seems to have a good head on her shoulders."

"Definitely," Clark agreed.

Pause.

"She's got to be driving Bruce up the walls."

Clark Kent nodded.

* * *

_London, England_

The lunch crowd at the Hog's Head looked to be on the verge of settling up their tabs before returning to their respective places of work. The smell of lager and half-finished soups and sandwiches lay at the forefront of a rich array of senses up for perusal at the centuries-old watering hole. By all extents and circumstances, the day featured no more surprises than the day before: the same hasty consumption, the same busy chatter, the same frenetic movements of the waitresses and cooking crew. Nothing out of the ordinary save the daft-looking bugger wearing a green Martian suit that just came crashing down on top of the bar.

"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! You have to help me! He's gonna kill me! He's gonna _KILL ME!_"

"Wot in the ruddy hell 's the matter wit' ya?" The coarse bartender forcefully shoved Irwin Schaub off of the countertop he had worked so diligently to make spotless. "An' wot's with your poncey threads? You take the wrong turn out of a Doctor Who convention or sumthin?"

Having long since abandoned any trace of reason or composure, Ambush Bug leapt over the counter and grabbed the bartended by the shirt. Many of the bar patrons who weren't already shuffling out the door took time out of their busy lives to laugh heartily at the hopelessly panicked man. "Don't you get it? He's everywhere! No matter where I go he's there! And, and, and he'll _get you too_! He's horrible! Absolutely horrifying!"

"GIT YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF ME, YA TOERAG!" The bartender all but threw Ambush Bug back over the bar with such force that the frazzled teleporter ended up falling ass over teakettle. The barkeep didn't allow for a moment of recovery as he continued with his tirade. "Now I'm gonna brain ya if you don't back off, quit your nancyin', and start talkin' straight! Right then. Now who's after you?"

Before Ambush Bug could reply, the door at the front of the Hog's Head swung open and a man briskly walked up to the bar.

"'Scuse me, mate. Pint of Bass please."

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Irwin Schaub's high-pitched scream was immediately followed by yet another teleportation performed in an effort to get away from his relentless (and increasingly amused) pursuer.

Lloyd smirked at the awestruck expressions of the patrons as he snatched an entire bottle of Bass from underneath the bar and threw ten dollars down on the counter. As much as he abhorred him to pay in such a fashion, he hadn't quite found the time to run by Heathrow and get his dosh changed.

"Keep the change, mate." Lloyd said to the silent bartender as he walked back out.

* * *

It took a good two blocks before Kara could work up the courage to wade into the intimidating and seemingly endless wave of words that constituted Stephanie's normal speech patterns. In the Gothamite's defense however, once the young Kryptonian did manage to speak up, Stephanie gave Kara her full attention.

"Uh, you're not here to fight me, are you?"

"Say what?"

"Well, it's just that every time that I meet up with another superhero it's like we end up fighting each other."

Stephanie found that conclusion to be oddly amusing. "Come on, girl. I'm sure it's not that bad! Granted, it does seem like we capes fight each other a lot more than we probably should, even when we're not hypnotized or anything. Why do you think that is? Maybe it's like some kind of superhero substitution for those times when bulls run into each other to see who gets to mate with the female or something." Stephanie wrapped her right hand around her chin, now firmly motivated to discover the source of this legitimately bizarre tendency. "Then again, it happens with the ladies too. And there aren't even that _many_ female superheroes! I mean, you'd think that we'd have some kind of female solidarity or something like that. You know, sisters doin' it for themselves or something. . ."

Stephanie turned to Kara for confirmation only to see the young lady looking absolutely bewildered amidst this onslaught of theories. She made a note to reign herself in. "My bad, my bad. Okay, so you were talking about everybody wanting to fight you?"

Despite Stephanie's apology, it took some time for Kara to work up the nerve to speak. Still, a bit of silent egging on by Stephanie pushed her into it.

"I mean. I was on Paradise Island for a couple of months after I got here and there wasn't really anything else to do except fight and train. So, then I went to New York to talk with Power Girl 'cause I figured she'd know what I was going through because I had heard that she came from Krypton too. Next thing I know, she's trying to kill me. Then after I get all that cleared up, I decided to go to Smallville and talk with Superboy about what happened with Powergirl but then Wondergirl shows up and she thinks I'm trying to hit on her 'boyfriend', which is just disgusting since he's practically my brother. Anyway, she tries to electrocute me and Raven tries to suck me into her soul-self or whatever and then Starfire shows up and takes me over to San Francisco to meet with the Outsiders."

Stephanie attempted to get a word in edgewise but Kara appeared to be on quite a roll. "Then the Outsiders decide they want to fight me because apparently that's how they socialize and Thunder tries to crush me and Grace is calling me an anorexic, whatever that is. But then Lex Luthor shows up and I kiss Nightwing before going off to fight Lex and then he pulls some kind of trick with some kind of weird Kryptonite and he creates another me. So the other me beats me up before she starts beating up Lex and a lot of the Justice League before I caught up with her in Gotham and then Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman put the two of us back together. Now after all that, everybody who has ever worked with my cousin looks at me like I'm going to make their head explode and I don't want to go back to Paradise Island and I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing!"

Stephanie took in Kara's heartfelt statements and gleaned what she considered to be the most important aspect of it all.

"You kissed Nightwing?"

Kara's response was an odd combination of blushing profusely and looking mildly indignant.

Stephanie worked to defuse the situation. "Okay. Okay. Simmer down, girlfriend. Relax. I assure you I _don't_ want to fight you. You'd probably just kick my ass anyway." That statement seemed to calm Kara down significantly. "Besides, you're not anorexic. Maybe a little on the thin side but isn't Grace like seven feet tall and 300 pounds? Who's she to start talking about anyone being too thin or too fat?"

Kara enthusiastically agreed, now quite encouraged with the possibility of camaraderie. "Is that what anorexic is? Being too thin? Damn. I'm sorry but it's just that I haven't really had a lot of time to learn to speak English so I haven't got all the little stuff down yet."

Stephanie accepted that. If she could deal with the monosyllabic utterances of Cassandra Cain, she could certainly manage her way through this. "It's cool. I've been on this blue ball for sixteen years and I still haven't figured everything out."

Kara giggled, seeming to be quite at ease after getting what appeared to be a rather heavy load off her chest. She and Stephanie continued to make their way through the busy streets of downtown Metropolis in companionable silence. Suddenly, Kara turned towards Stephanie and decided to offer her new friend an opportunity to engage in the most tried and true method of bonding between adolescent young women.

"So, do you want to go shopping?"

* * *

_Paris, France_

"As I am sure that many of you know, the Mona Lisa was painted by Leonardo da Vinci in the late 16th century. Framed modestly with Poplar wood, many believe it to be a painting of Francesco del Giacondo, a noblewoman that da Vinci had frequently interacted with. Some, on the other hand, believe it to be da Vinci's intriguing interpretation of a self-portrait."

The calm, composed speech of the tour guide held a trace of her native French accent but it was quite clear to anyone who made an effort to notice that she was making a great deal of effort to mask her brogue as much as possible. After taking a moment to remind her temporary flock that flash photography was not allowed within the museum, she continued on with her spiel.

"Though the source of da Vinci's inspirations remain unclear, there is little argument that it is considered to be one of the aesthetic hallmarks of the Renaissance and it is viewed by over 3 million people every year. And despite its many different viewers, those who have taken great measure to analyze this immortal work also agree that everyone who look upon the picture will draw their own perspective upon what lies behind the model's enigmatic smile."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

There was no mistaking the look of terror on the face of Irwin Schaub as he barreled through the cluster of tourists and art aficionados standing around the Louvre's prize piece, some of them crashing into one another in order to avoid personal contact with the queer looking fellow in the olive alien suit. Some merely stared. Some even considered the furtive looking man to be an eccentric exhibition of some obscure new Parisian fashion line.

Despite the many different perspectives concerning the source of the bizarre man's fright, Irwin ignored them all and continued to dash through the corridor that held the most celebrated work of art in all of Western civilization with the dignity and grace of a headless chicken.

While all this was going on, Lloyd ambled into the room. There was a blank expression on his thin face but his lips were whistling a cheery tune. Waving briefly to the frazzled tour guide, who was apparently not taught the proper procedures for this kind of situation at employee training, Lloyd made his way through the throng of onlookers and calmly climbed over the security rail. He took several moments to stare at the Mona Lisa from a proximity of no more than twelve inches, shifting his eyes back and forth to take it all in. Then, without a word to anyone, he climbed over the rail and calmly continued his chase while still whistling the same indistinguishable melody.

In the end, it was a trip that took Irwin Schaub and Lloyd Thomas to 13 countries, 5 continents, and a room where there was some bloke dressed up like a bishop getting spanked by wet noodles. After Lloyd had calmly rescued the panicked Ambush Bug from falling off of the Great Wall of China, he slung the quietly quivering man over his shoulder and teleported back to El Paso.

"All right, you. Hold it right there!"

And that's when Lloyd ran into the third problem of his day.

The people that surrounded him were quite the motley crew. At least that much was for certain. One looked like a man scraped from the bitter dregs of a Renaissance fair. Another fellow looked to be entirely made of rags. The two women of the group also were dressed rather bizarrely (although Lloyd found both of them to be quite easy on the eyes). One was a pale-skinned young woman dressed mostly in black leather while the other was a haughty, olive-skinned beauty dressed in loose gypsy garb.

And then there was the blue devil and the talking chimp.

Blue Devil, Detective Chimp, Enchantress, Nightmaster, Nightshade, and Ragman. They were the Shadowpact, a team of mystically inclined superheroes brought together to aid Shazam and his apprentice, Captain Marvel, with the task of bringing down the power-mad Spectre and preventing the harbinger's plan to annihilate the world. However, with Shazam death's and Marvel's sudden disappearance, the rag-tag group had devoted themselves to the task of retrieving the many caustic and dangerous items that Shazam watched over.

Unfortunately for Lloyd, the Shadowpact considered the Scarab of the Blue Beetle to be quite caustic and exceedingly dangerous.

"Now see? Isn't this better than shopping?"

Kara appeared to give the question some serious thought as she continued to munch on her plate of nachos that had just been delivered to her from the bustling kitchen of the finest Mexican restaurant in Metropolis. "I don't know. I read somewhere that Americans my age like to go shopping, so I figured that's what you wanted to do. Still, this is good too!"

Stephanie waved her right hand, which was currently holding a half-eaten shrimp enchilada. "I've never really been much for my shopping. I'm still getting used to having a disposable income. Back with my mom it was food stamps as usual or coupons if we were lucky. I gotta admit, being financed by Bruce Wayne definitely has its perks."

Kara once again shivered at the mention of Batman's civilian identity. "I just _don't _see how you can get along with him. He's just. . . so. . ."

"Scary?" Stephanie offered.

"Creepy!" Kara emphasized. Much like her cousin, she was afraid that she, a person who could lift armored tanks like Tonka toys, could possibly be frightened of a middle-aged, paranoid man that ran around at night in black and blue Kevlar.

"Bruce isn't that bad. He's lost a lot in his life so he just wants to keep a close eye on the things he cares about."

Stephanie's description clearly intrigued the blonde Kryptonian. "So you're saying that whenever he's watching me patrol with those fancy cameras of his he's doing that because he's _worried_ about me?"

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders. "Well, either that or he wants to make sure you don't go nutzo and try to blow up the planet."

"Hey!" Kara protested as she threw a tortilla chip at Stephanie.

"Well, you _did _say that you were fighting a lot of superheroes!"

Kara groaned in mild exasperation and shook her head.

Stephanie chuckled at the display. "Well, now that we've gotten to aggravate each other, is it okay if I ask you why you _really _left Paradise Island and came here to Metropolis?"

Kara hemmed and hawed, making an effort to consider the possible consequences of making such an admission, before she finally relented. "Well, it's just that all they do over there is _fight_. They train, like, hours upon hours at a time. I mean, I don't mind learning how to really fight, but there's gotta be more to do here than that! I mean, there's no crime, no supervillains. . ."

"No boys." Stephanie added, causing Kara to throw another chip at her. Robin plucked the chip out of the air and ate it. "Yeah, I can understand the need for a little time away from something like that. I mean, I _love _being Robin and hanging out with Batman and Lloyd and Alfred, but it's been a loooong time since I've been able to just sit down and have some girl chatter."

Kara grinned cheerfully, quite pleased that she could be the source of "girl chatter" as Stephanie put it, although she wasn't entirely certain of what the term meant.

KRRRRRRRRRRASH!

Of course, as Kara and Stephanie were beginning to learn, peaceful times tended to have a very short expiration date in the world of superherodom.

The source of the spoiling came from a massive bulk of machinery. Nine feet high and looking quite loaded for bear, the creation was made even more disturbing by the fact that it bore a human face.

The human was John Corben, a former small-time thief who had been nearly killed in a gruesome automobile accident. His body frayed and fractured well beyond the point of repair, a scientist named Emmet Vale saw Corben's horrible situation as an opportunity to test the durability of a metal alloy that he had spent decades developing. Enveloping the unwilling Corben within the alloy, Vale had created one of the most potent man-made weapons on the planet. Corben had repaid Vale's hideous ministrations by murdering the mad professor in a hideous fashion before using his new body to expand upon his criminal career.

Stephanie knew that much about the man now known as Metallo. She also knew that Metallo operated mostly out of Metropolis and frequently tussled with Superman. Thus, being Superman's cousin, Supergirl was quite likely to be a possible target for Corben's anger. Thus, given that she was standing next to Supergirl as Metallo morphed his left hand into a massive cannon, Stephanie anticipated that her rest period was coming to an abrupt end.

* * *

"Look you wankers!" Lloyd yelled as he firmly grasped Ragman by his withered arm before throwing him at Blue Devil. "'M not here for a fight! I just want to take the scarab and be on my way!" The young man winced slightly as a black beam of energy hit him from behind.

"That's convenient," the costumed heroine known as Nightshade quipped. "We're here for the same thing. And unless Shazam named you as his replacement, that scarab _doesn't _belong to you." Despite her jovial demeanor, Nightshade couldn't help but notice that her shadow homunculi didn't seem to be hurting her opponent. In fact, it seemed to be having the exact opposite reaction.

Lloyd confirmed Nightshade's theory by firing a thin blast of energy that pierced through Nightshade's attack and hit her in the chest. As Nightmaster, Blue Devil, and Ragman rushed to avenge their unconscious comrade, the remaining two members of Shadowpact still hung back.

Although she had been the other person to hold back, the Enchantress found her companion's behavior to be quite inappropriate. "Will you not aid us in our fight, primate?" she asked arrogantly.

Far too cool and collected to blindly respond to such a combative statement, the three-foot tall Detective Chimp calmly stubbed at his cigarette and shook his head. "Why is it we always have to fight everybody we come across? I don't suppose we could have just _asked_ the kid why he's so interested in the scarab? It isn't as if it's some kind of little trinket everybody knows about! This is why I don't hang around with other superheroes; all these unresolved violence issues."

"The child possesses the blood of a demon and he seeks the scarab," the Enchantress pointed out. "What more proof do you require, chimp?"

"Well, you'll excuse me if I don't consider the matter closed after discovering two coincidental factoids. I suppose that's why they call me _Detective_ Chimp instead of Blindingly Stupid Chimp or Overcompensating for Repressed Anger Chimp. And perhaps you didn't notice this while you were pointing out to yourself how spectacular you are but it's not like we're actually winning this fight."

Detective Chimp's assessment was quite accurate. Nightshade was already out of the running and Lloyd had no trouble parrying Nightmaster's mystic blade before striking the armored man in the forehead with the hilt of his saber. As the swordsman went down in a heap, Blue Devil and Ragman doubled their efforts, hoping to break Lloyd's defenses with their combined strength. However, as physically impressive as these two demonic specimens were, the Black Dog was something else altogether. Lloyd dodged the attacks with ease before striking Blue Devil with a series of palm strikes to the torso that sent the massive, blue-hued demon skidding past Detective Chimp and Enchantress.

Now left alone, it was Ragman who landed the first genuine measure of offense for the Shadowpact. He had wrapped his garb around Lloyd's extended right arm, attempting to use the ethereal power of his garb to quell Lloyd's raging soul. Unfortunately, that maneuver produced yet another unforeseen dilemma. Ragman lurched backward, struggling to maintain his balance amidst the gale of energy circulating around him.

"You. . . you have more than one soul."

"Yes," Lloyd said nastily as he grasped Ragman's right hand with bone-shattering force and threw him aside. "And you can't have either of 'em."

It was the Enchantress that came at Lloyd next, striking the young man full in the chest with a blast of magic. It was like attempting to stop a tidal wave by throwing water at it. The Black Dog absorbed it, felt the energy simmering through his body, and channeled it to make it his own. While the Enchantress attempted to discern this unusual turn of events, Lloyd teleported directly in front of her and punched her lightly in the gut.

_Five down_, Lloyd thought. _One to go_.

Lloyd turned to Detective Chimp, who made absolutely no effort to defend himself. The primate merely took another drag from his Chesterfield and blew the smoke into the El Paso air.

"Please tell me you're the sensible one of this little group?" Lloyd asked plaintively.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for not hurting my partners too badly, by the way. Now, I know I'm not in any position to try an' stop ya, but I've got to tell you that the object you've got in your hand is pretty important. Mind tellin' me what you plan on doing with it?"

Lloyd glanced at the scarab in his right hand while he sheathed his saber with his left. "Look, mate. 'M just here under Batman's orders. He wants the scarab 'cause he thinks he can use it to find Brother Eye."

Detective Chimp took that in as he took another drag. He had been pretty busy what with chasing down Jean Loring and the Spectre, but he had enough free time to read up about the rogue satellite and recognize the implications behind the kid's statement. "Well, there's somebody else lookin' for that thing too. The reason _we_ came down here was because we wanted to get to it before he could."

"And who would he be?" asked Lloyd.

And that's when Lloyd ran into the fourth problem of his day.

Unfortunately, this was not something as harmless as a gaggle of redneck cops or a team of well-meaning superheroes or some whack job in a green rubber suit. This was a symbol of righteous anger; a massive form that towered well over the few high rise buildings that El Paso had to offer and a being that could go toe-to-toe with deities and the sternest of mortal men spurned on by the unending motivation of serving justice in what the being considered to be a world populated by the lawless.

The Spectre.

"VENGEANCE WILL BE HAD!" The Spectre's voice was like a sonic boom, the sheer volume penetrating and permeating the minds and bodies of everyone from miles around. However, the creature's eyes; emerald-green, pupiless irises that had been the last sight of countless imperfect beings, were focused upon Lloyd and the Shadowpact.

"Well. Shit." Lloyd said succinctly.


	15. The Misfits Four

Issue #15

The Misfits Four

Kara and Stephanie flew off in opposite directions to avoid the shot from Metallo's thermal cannon. The former seemed to be quite surprised at the latter's reaction, pausing to look at Robin with a wide-eyed expression. "You can fly? I thought you Batpeople weren't supposed to be able to fly."

"I'm looking to buck the trend," Stephanie replied as she created a shield to repel Metallo's next attack. "What about you, rivet boy? Are you the latest Society hit mouse or do you always just go around attacking people in perfectly good Mexican restaurants?"

Corben appeared to be quite irritated, clearly not anticipating having to deal with a second opponent. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about! I've never heard of this Society and I've never heard of _you_!"

"Is that right?" Stephanie asked as she took to the sky to avoid another blast. While airborne, she used her ring to create a speeding Mack truck that crashed into Metallo's backside and caused the android to hurtle straight at her. Unable to stop his momentum in time, Metallo was unable to defend himself as Stephanie created a giant clown mallet and struck him right in the chest, sending him tumbling back down the street.

"I'm Robin," Stephanie said with a smile as Corben got back to his feet. "Pleased to meet you!"

Metallo didn't take the time out to respond to Stephanie's cheerful greeting as he turned his attention to the sight of Supergirl soaring towards him. This was something he was prepared for. The alien managed to land two solid hooks that threatened to dent his sturdy, mechanized skull before he was able to activate the release mechanism in his chest that would reveal the crystal of kryptonite embedded within his chest cavity. The otherworldly substance, the only true weakness for the young Kryptonian, had an immediate impact. As Kara suffered from the effects of the radiation, Metallo hammered the young woman with a series of punches, the last of which sent her hurtling into and through a nearby movie theater.

"Kara!" Stephanie cried. "Are you _ahh!_," Stephanie's concerned inquiry was cut short as she had to create a barrier to keep her from being hit by Metallo's next blast.

"I was only here for the superchick," Metallo said snidely as he continued to focus his efforts on the airborne target. "Still, I'll be _more _than happy to go for a twofer."

Robin winced from the intensity of Metallo's assault. "Sorry, bunky. I've never been much for package deals."

Still keeping up the cannon fire, Metallo used his free hand to uproot a ten-foot lamppost with his free hand and slung it at Stephanie. The pole was intercepted by a blazing-red blast of energy that melted the iron support to ashes. A moment later, a blur of blue, red, and yellow had put Corben down onto his back.

"Leave her alone!"

Despite her obvious discomfort, Kara continued to hammer away at Metallo. However, the radiation from the Kryptonite once again soon took its toll, her strikes becoming slower and weaker until it was only a small matter for Metallo to catch Kara's right fist in his hand.

"Pathetic," he droned as he socked Kara in the nose with his left hand while hurling her into the air with the other. Before she was able to reach the Earth's ionosphere however, a giant, green baseball glove altered her flight plan. While Kara pondered this unlikely occurrence, Stephanie flew up to meet her.

"You okay?" Stephanie asked.

Kara noticed that she was now dressed in the traditional uniform of the Green Lantern. "I'm a little leery, but I'll be okay. So who is this guy and how'd he get a hold of kryptonite?"

"Are you _joking_? That's Metallo!"

Kara cocked her head in confusion. "You're saying this as if I should already know this."

"Well, I'm sorry but it's just that he's one of Superman's biggest enemies! I figured you Superguys would have at least read about the guy!"

"Well, I'm sorry if it wasn't in the manual!" Kara testily fired back.

Kara and Stephanie momentarily seemed quite ready to continue arguing before considering the circumstances going on below them.

"We have to stop him," Stephanie said.

"Before he hurts any innocent people," Kara added.

"Or causes an ass-load of property damage."

"Any ideas?"

"I've got a theory," Stephanie cryptically replied. "Wait here for a second, will you?"

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure."

Stephanie hastily flew back down to ground level. Corben seemed momentarily distracted with the opportunity to cause some wanton destruction, but Stephanie's presence seemed to refocus him.

"Hey, Bucket of Bolts! I've got a question for you!"

Metallo replied by firing off another blast of energy.

"HEY! I SAID A QUESTION, ASSHOLE!" Stephanie squawked from the safety of her emerald shell. Despite Metallo's obvious intents, the planet's youngest Green Lantern still felt compelled to carry on her original intentions. "So you've got all this strength and durability in that suit. I was just wondering if you're fast too. Are you?"

"How about you come over here and find out, missy?" Corben responded.

"So that's a no then," said Stephanie.

Stephanie was on the move, imbuing herself with all the speed that her ring could provide her. Even Corben's highly advanced motion detectors had a difficult time registering her course of movement as she moved to attack. Creating her customary energy claws, Stephanie hacked away at the android's body with astounding speed. The damage was slight, nothing more than scratches and abrasions that began to accumulate on Metallo's durable torso. More annoyed than in pain, Metallo fired back with a massive right hook that caught Stephanie on her left shoulder. For Stephanie, it was like being hit by a speeding train, the impact sending her crashing through a brick wall. She was still trying to keep herself from coughing up blood as Metallo advanced upon her.

"Just face facts, girlie. You just don't have the muscle to bring me down."

Robin chuckled thinly as she shakily hefted herself back up to a standing position. "Maybe, maybe not. Still, who said I was trying to bring you down?" Corben was clearly not quite certain about the implications of Stephanie's statement, so the young woman decided to elaborate. "I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed one of your toys."

Stephanie revealed the kryptonite crystal she had taken upon herself to relieve from Metallo's chest cavity, the radiation now safely sealed within an energy bubble. Metallo first looked shocked, then alarmed, then furious that he had made such a critical mistake. "Now, maybe I don't have the muscle to take you out but I _do _know somebody who does!"

Supergirl hardly needed any more prompting. Tackling Metallo to the ground, she began to hammer away at Corben. A whirlwind of undiluted power and speed, Kara landed twenty straight unanswered blows. Then twenty became two hundred. By punch number five hundred, Metallo's shield batteries were ready for the slagheap and Corben himself was in need of a great many repairs.

"Well," Kara said as she stood over her fallen opponent. "That was fun."

* * *

Lloyd looked on as the Shadowpact launched themselves at the Spectre, the group's petty jealousies and quarrels immediately thrust aside in favor of working with one another to stay alive. Despite this somewhat endearing display of solidarity, it was quite obvious that it was a futile gesture. None of the Shadowpact had the power of Captain Marvel or the ethereal wisdom of Shazam that could counter the out-of-control engine of power that the Spectre had become since its separation from Hal Jordan. The Shadowpact's demise was only a matter of time.

"_Which means you need to get the hell out of 'ere. This's got nothing to do with you and chances are 'e'll be comin' after you once he gets done wif 'em_."

"_But they're going to be killed! We can't just allow that to happen!"_

Lloyd didn't necessarily have an actual devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, but the young man couldn't help but picture it. He momentarily wondered what his "angel" would look like. Perhaps like one of those drawing of archangels he had seen while he was touring the Louvre. That would have been quite nice.

"_Your job was to get the Scarab, not get caught up in some ridiculous magic feud!"_

"_Batman wouldn't like it if we abandoned the fight!"_

"_Sod Batman and sod you."_

"_Oh, now you're just lying to yourself!" _the "angel" countered. _"You know you don't want to disappoint Bruce. Just like you don't want to disappoint Mao!"_

"_So you're tellin' me it's a good idea to just throw in with a bunch of glorified D & D fan boys and take on something that could quite likely rip us limb for limb. And for wot? 'Cause we don't want to let down some emotional eunuch in a winged mouse costume?"_

"_Ah yes. Lashing out. The first sign of a weakening resolve. And it's not just that either. We need to help these people because it's the right thing to do."_

"_Poppycock. Since when have we ever cared about wot's right and wot's wrong?"_

"_Since we found out that there are good people in this world. People that won't turn their back on you the moment you decide to rest your eyes. People that view you as something more than a gun for hire."_

"_We **liked**_ _being a gun for hire_._"_

"_And yet here we are in El Paso risking life and limb looking for a magical trinket and not even getting a pound out of it."_

"_We get free room an' board at Wayne Manor. That's worth a bit of dosh."_

"_That was not a negotiation, that was a gesture of kindness. You sensed that just as much as I did!" _

"_But these pillocks **attacked** us! Without any provocation!"_

"_Quit whining!" _the "angel" exclaimed. _"This kind of shit happens all the time! You know that! Do you know how many times heroes fight each other over some stupid misunderstanding or hypnosis or whatever? I swear, they fight one another more than actual bad guys! So just tuck your ego back into your trousers and get to it!"_

"This is gonna bleedin' hurt."

Lloyd rocketed upwards toward the Spectre, soaring past the rushing Nightmaster and Blue Devil. Abandoning subtlety right out of the gate, the Black Dog fired an intense burst of energy from his palms that struck the divine vessel right between the shoulder blades. It was a raw release of nigh-incalculable power, a display of enough concentrated power to wipe a metropolitan city right off the map.

Lloyd liked to think that he saw the Spectre wince from the impact. Then again, he could have just been deluding himself.

The Spectre's eyes turned upon him. "THIS IS NOT YOUR AFFAIR, DEMON! LEAVE NOW AND I WILL NOT TAKE OFFENSE TO YOUR INTERFERENCE OF MY DIVINE DUTY!"

The Shadowpact wisely ceased their fruitless assault in favor of observing the goings-on. Lloyd took a brief moment to look back down at them before turning his attention back to the Spectre. "First of all, mate, 'm a half-demon. Second of all, just how do you speak in all capital letters like that? Is there some magic trick that I can learn to just project my voice out like that?"

"YOUR LEVITY IS FRUITLESS, USELESS, AND A WASTE OF MY TIME!"

Lloyd took the insult in stride. "Well, 's not me best I'll admit. Wanna know what's really funny though? A supposed divine agent of justice attempting to perform mass genocide! Now admit it, that's gotta be pretty high on the hypocrisy meter!"

"YOU KNOW NOT OF THE IMPORT OF MY QUEST!" the Spectre cried as it continued to knock Lloyd from the sky. "THIS WORLD IS AWASH WITH THOSE WHO CHOOSE TO CORRUPT NATURE TO SEEK THEIR OWN ILL MEANS! MAGIC IS FAR TOO POWERFUL AND CAUSTIC TO BE LEFT WITHIN THE HANDS OF THE FLAWED CREATIONS OF GOD!"

More of the Spectre's attacks were beginning to find their target, with Lloyd becoming increasingly strained in his efforts to block or parry the attacks of his phenomenally powerful opponent. "I don't suppose you've noticed that _you_ are currently using magic right now?" Lloyd asked sourly.

The Spectre didn't appear to be swayed by that particular dose of irony. "I SHALL RESTORE JUSTICE TO THIS MISBEGOTTEN PLANE! I AM NO LONGER ENCUMBERED BY THE RESTRAINTS OF HUMANITY, BOUND BY FLAWED MORALITY AND IMPERFECTION! I AM THE ALMIGHTY'S VESSEL OF DIVINE RIGHT AND I SHALL NOT BE DENIED!"

The vengeful apparition fired a blazing bolt of energy from its' eyes that made a beeline for Lloyd's chest. Using his own instincts to guide him, Lloyd hauled his silver saber out from its scabbard and swung. The blade connected with the beam, the magical properties of both forms of weaponry briefly coalescing with one another before Lloyd gave off a mighty roar and flung the Spectre's shot aside.

"Sod denial, mate," Lloyd said as he spun his blade in a dramatic arc before pointing it at the Spectre. "Right now I just want to see if I can make you bleed."

With these lofty intentions in mind, Lloyd flung himself at the Spectre. The swordsman tore through the Spectre's initial volley of energy and flew straight towards his target's eyes. The Spectre responded to his rush with another discharge of energy from its eyes. It was an attack that would have normally beaten back Lloyd's advances and they would have done so in this instance had Lloyd remained within the line of fire. However, Lloyd had wisely chosen to teleport behind the Spectre and he used his blade to slash into the back of the spirit's neck. The mystic metal of the sharp blade was more than potent enough to slice through the creature's numinous flesh.

The Spectre bled. Bled and roared in animalistic frenzy.

"Something tells me I did some damage there," Lloyd said evenly.

"VAINGLORIOUS WORM!" Moving at a velocity that far belied its massive size, the Spectre swung its right arm at Lloyd. This time, the Black Dog was a half-second too slow in reacting and the Spectre's swipe hit its mark. It was hardly the most precise strike. In fact, to be perfectly frank, the Spectre had only managed to hit Lloyd with the upper part of its forearm. Still, when you were a cosmic entity capable of obliterating a mountain range with the swipe of your hand, making contact of any kind was generally considered to be a step in the right direction.

As for Lloyd, he knew he had been hit harder before. He knew that. He just couldn't quite remember when it happened. A messy crash through an office building at roughly the speed of sound did little good to alleviate his agony. On the plus side however, he did manage to land in what appeared to be a public park. That was nice. After spending much of his life in the big city, Lloyd was never one to turn down an opportunity to experience the gentler side of nature.

Of course, the angry-looking demigod looming over sort of killed the mood.

"HOW DARE YOU WOUND ME! I AM THE SCION! I AM THE SHEPHERD WHO WILL GUIDE THE INNOCENT TOWARDS PEACE AND SALVATION! WHO ARE YOU TO INFLICT INJURY UPON ME?"

The Spectre's followed up his display of indignation by firing an enormous green ball of energy that headed straight down towards its intended target. Still momentarily shaken by the damage of the Spectre's last attack, Lloyd only had the briefest of moments to take hold of what was going on around him. Leaping to his feet, he raised his blade above his head. Using the saber as a buffer for his own energy, Lloyd created a barrier around his body and the area around him.

The energy ball struck the shield dead center; the scorching, withering heat and intensity of the blast quickly leaving Lloyd's throat dry and his pupils bulging. He couldn't fail. He wouldn't fail. This wasn't about being good or evil anymore. It was about survival, a truly unifying theme if there ever was one.

The Spectre redoubled its efforts to eliminate its pesky foe, roaring with exertion and increasing the intensity of its attack.

Lloyd ignored the booming voice and the half-heard promises of annihilation and punishment. It wasn't important right now and it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. For now, there was nothing except that pulsating green orb and finding its center, mapping the intricate web of magic that was both within him and the Spectre's instrument of destruction. His already pale skin seemed to ashen and the veins within his temples almost appeared ready to pop from the strain.

_Ignore the pain. Ignore everything except what you need to do. This is too bleedin' important._ _Just keep pushing_.

And so he did. And with bleary eyes Lloyd watched the ball of energy soar harmlessly into the clouds. He fell to his knees, far too exhausted to feel the elation of triumph. He had done it. There was no way he'd be able to stop the next one, but he had done it.

"YOUR SPIRIT IS STRONG, LLOYD THOMAS." The tone in The Spectre's voice held both exasperation and respect. "YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF YOUR EFFORTS HOWEVER FRUITLESS AND MISLED THEY MAY BE."

Lloyd panted, still overcome by his fatigue. Already he could feel his body beginning to recover, but there would be no way he could defend himself from another attack. This time however, he had another card to play.

"_My _efforts are misled! Look at what you nearly did!" Lloyd's voice came out as a hoarse croak, but the young man was working under the assumption that the divine entity could understand him. "Do you have any idea what could have just happened? I was the only thing keeping that blast from crashing into the ground! If I hadn't pulled that off then this entire city and more would 'ave been obliterated!"

There was a flicker of doubt within the eyes of the Spectre as it continued to listen to Lloyd's words, a cloud of uncertainty growing within its supposed divine design.

"You call yourself an instrument of justice but where is the justice in harming innocent people! You want to start a war with magic? Fine! That doesn't mean that you can just go on forgetting that there are good people that can get caught in the crossfire! You claim the world is awash with sin? Well, I'll admit that the Bible's not the most popular book in me cubby, but I seem to remember something in there about thou shalt not kill."

The Spectre's doubt had intensified, his egocentric intentions no longer as rigid and firm as they once were. "I. . . I. . ."

Lloyd could see the doubt as well. The angry glow in the Spectre's eyes appeared to flicker and the raging intensity of the spirit's aura began to subside. As Lloyd began to sense the creature's feelings, unconsciously examining the tumultuous emotions of his foe, he understood that something not quite right had been done to this palpable force of nature. He felt a twinge of sympathy, recognizing the indignity of being manipulated, of being forced to respond to the whims of something you couldn't quite understand.

Lloyd moved to speak again, hoping to strike a deeper chord with his conflicted opponent, but he was interrupted by the sound of a tingling, ethereal voice. It was like listening to the kind words of a loved one speak to you while you were still half way between being awake and asleep.

"It appears that I owe you yet another debt of gratitude, Mister Thomas." The chiming candor of the voice seemed to soothe Lloyd. "Perhaps the time for us to meet face to face is closer than I anticipated."

Lloyd wanted to try and find this mysterious presence who spoke to him, the same voice that had made its presence felt within the mind of Manitou Raven when he and Stephanie had battled Envy, but he hadn't had the slightest clue of where to start looking.

The Spectre didn't appear to have that problem. "I HAVE NO. . . I HAVE SINNED. WHAT HAVE I DONE?"

"Rest easy, Spectre. You are not entirely at fault for your transgressions. There is an engine behind this chaos and confusion."

"I HAVE BEEN MANIPULATED?" The Spectre's confusion and astonishment fueled the restoration of its' righteous fury. "WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INJURY?"

"That is a matter best left for another time. Nevertheless, I assure you that there will be a time and place to redeem yourself, Spectre," the voice replied. "For now, however, we should depart."

Lloyd knew that the Spectre was able to see the figure behind the mysterious voice, although when he followed the creature's line of sight he could not see a thing. "PERHAPS YOU ARE RIGHT." The Spectre looked down upon Lloyd, its immense size suddenly appearing far less intimidating than before. "I TOO OWE YOU A DEBT OF GRATITUDE, YOUNG HALF-BREED." The massive body of the Spectre began to fade as the spirit gave Lloyd its thanks. "AND I ASSURE YOU THAT I SHALL GLADLY REPAY THAT DEBT IN DUE TIME."

Then the Spectre was gone. The departure appeared to drain everything left from the Black Dog. Overburdened by his own fatigue, he began to crumple towards the ground before he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist. While he was brought back to his feet, Lloyd couldn't help but think that this practice was becoming rather commonplace for him since he had chosen to align himself with the Batman. Of course, this was the first time that the arm supporting him had been blue.

"Easy there, cowpoke. I've got you. Breathe it out." The normally rough-hewn voice of the Blue Devil seemed rather fuzzy, although the minor concussion Lloyd was experiencing may have had something to do with that.

Nightshade was the next person to make her presence felt, the smile on her face making it quite obvious that she was not the least bit put off by the fact that Lloyd had knocked her unconscious a mere twenty minutes ago. "At the risk of offending the firm Christian values of my horned buddy, that was fuckin' awesome!"

Lloyd responded with the barest of smiles, still too all-in to really speak.

"Perhaps someone could explain to me what has happened here?" The Enchantress asked.

"Looks like another dangerous misunderstanding to me, Witchie Poo." The Detective Chimp removed the classic detective sou'wester from off his head as he pulled out another cigarette from one of his jacket pockets. "You smoke kid?"

Lloyd coughed a bit before replying, working to extract some of the unnecessary liquids that were cropping up within his lungs. "Naw, naw. Like to keep away from stuff that will kill me."

The members of the Shadowpact seemed to find Lloyd's fatigued jest to be worthy of a nice round of laughter. Even the Enchantress found herself smiling, if only a little.

"You said you were here on the Batman's orders?" Detective Chimp asked. "Tell him to get back to me once you get back to Gotham with the scarab."

The Enchantress turned to the de facto leader of the Shadowpact in shock. "Are you certain of this? Regardless of his actions, we still know nothing about this child."

"There is evil within him. There can be no denying that." The hushed tone of Ragman still managed to reach everyone's ears. "However, I assure you that his heart is strong and his intentions are good. The scarab will be safe in his hands."

"Well, if he's got Ragman's vote of approval then that's good enough for me," said Blue Devil. "Need any help getting back to Gotham, kiddo?"

Lloyd turned towards the former stuntman turned demon, still quite unsure of these gestures of good will and generosity. After all, for all he had accomplished while under the employ of Mao Tenryu, these were two things that he rarely ever experienced. However, after the grand circumstance of only two minutes ago, the 18-year-old wanted to keep things as simple as he could.

"Naw. I'm good."

* * *

"I'm not really sure if I'm saying this right. Y'know, seeing as how I'm relatively new to this planet and everything, but WE ROCKED!"

Stephanie snorted in bemusement at Kara's attempt to use slang. "Could've been worse. Could've been better, but could've been worse."

Kara frowned momentarily at Stephanie's trepidation, taking her compatriot's hesitance as a sign that she was still hurt. "Are you sure you're all right? It looked like Metallo got you pretty good."

"I've had worse. Another advantage of this little ring of mine is that I can take my fair share of punishment."

"Can I see it?"

"What? The ring? You mean to tell me you can't see it from here?" Kara was eagerly shifting her head back and forth. "You just watched me get whacked by Metallo from 20,000 feet up and you honestly think I believe that you can't see something from 3 feet away?"

Kara's smile grew exceptionally more mischievous. "Let me see!"

"No!"

"I just want to hold it!" Kara pleaded. "I was able to use John Stewart's ring, you know. Well, uh, I guess it was my evil me that did that, but I bet that I could do it too!" Kara playfully continued to move forward, moving closer and closer to.

"NO! It's my ring!" Stephanie began to sidle away at an equal velocity. "Get away! Get away!"

There was a hum of motion and a haze of red and blonde as Kara rushed to take the ring off Stephanie's finger. Astonishingly, Stephanie saw it coming, snatched her hand back, and flew off. Kara was quick to give chase and soon the two of them were racing around the crime scene like little children. Many members of the clean-up crew deployed by S.T.A.R. Labs watched the goings on, no doubt wondering about the qualifications of being a world-renowned superhero.

"Well, it seems to me that the two of you are having a good time."

The two girls skidded to a mid-air halt as Superman stared down at them. He was making a significant effort in his attempt to look stern and disapproving of their behavior, but it was quite clear that he was beating back the urge to smile.

"I apologize for not showing up sooner. There was an O.M.A.C. attack at S.T.A.R. Labs that required my attention. Still, it's nice to see that the both of you had everything in good hands."

"My left shoulder blade disagrees," Stephanie replied.

"Well, you don't have any broken bones," Superman said, "but if you require medical attention I'm sure that S.T.A.R. Labs would be happy to assist you."

Stephanie was momentarily taken aback by the Man of Steel's diagnosis. "How did you. . .? So you guys really _do _have x-ray vision! And here I thought that was just an urban legend!"

Superman shook his head, both from the young lady's response and the wording she used to respond. As was his way however, he was quick to regain his focus. "By the way, I believe I have something for you." He handed Stephanie a topaz medallion encircled within an unimpressive brass frame.

Stephanie gave the object a twice over, first with her eyes then with her ring. "You believe correctly." She turned her attention back to Superman. "How'd you get a federal outfit like S.T.A.R. to just give you this? I hope I didn't put you through too much trouble."

"It wasn't any trouble at all, Robin. They've been examining the object for several days and they haven't really been able to get any definitive results. I simply told them that I had an outside source that may provide a fresh perspective on it," Clark replied. "Pretty much my status quo explanation for whenever Batman wants me to get a hold of something that he wants to analyze. Despite what your boss may say, there are _some_ advantages to holding a modicum of trust in the intentions of others."

Stephanie thought that her cross, withering look was more than sufficient to serve as the proper "Batman" response. Judging from Kara's bubbly giggling, Stephanie was pretty certain that she didn't exactly pull it off.

"Thanks for the help, Superman." Stephanie said earnestly. "At least now I can understand why Batman tolerates you."

"Well, it is one of my crowning achievements," Superman replied with an All-American grin. However, that grin quickly faded into a look of determination as he turned his attentions towards his cousin. "Kara, I think it's time for you to return to Paradise Island." Kara let out a clear note of complaint, but Superman continued to speak through it. "With the O.M.A.C.'s still on the loose, I'd like you to be in a safer place."

Stephanie watched quietly while Kara continued her fight to stay in Metropolis. While she was doing so, a small, figurative, potentially dangerous light bulb began to light up.

"No buts, Kara. Now I want you back on Paradise Island by nightfall. Do I make myself clear?"

Kara groaned again, although her complaints seemed to be dying down. "Okay, okay. Can I at least fly with Stephanie back to Gotham City?"

"That's perfectly fine. Stephanie, it was a pleasure to meet you and I wish you luck."

Stephanie nodded in return just as Superman turned to speak with the uniformed S.T.A.R. representatives. Taking her prize and grasping it firmly in her left hand, she used her ring to fly east towards home with Kara quick to follow.

* * *

Several minutes later, the two girls were only fifty miles from Gotham, well past the halfway point in their trip, and Kara was still complaining about her cousin's hardheadedness.

"Stupid Kal-El and his stupid rules and his stupid protective behavior! Like I'm not every bit as capable as he is! He's still trying to order me around just because he's older than I am. That's not fair. I was older than he was when we both left Krypton! It's not my fault I crashed into an asteroid belt and was cryogenically frozen! Huagh! I should have went with Donna Troy when I had the chance!"

"Say what?" Stephanie asked. Although she was hopelessly confused by her new friend's ranting, she was somewhat relieved about meeting a someone whose origin was even more messed up than her own.

Kara turned to Stephanie as they both flew through the air. "About a week ago. You know Donna Troy? Like the Teen Titan Donna Troy? Well, she was in Metropolis about a week back and asked me if I wanted to go with her on some trip across the galaxies."

"Donna Troy? You're telling me she's alive again? I thought she just died."

Kara was too wrapped up in her own worries to pay attention to Stephanie's befuddled comments. "I still don't know why I didn't go with her. I guess I just thought there would be something more for me to do around _here_. I mean, this is going to be my home now, after all. What good am I capable of doing if I'm just hanging around on Paradise Island. I just wish there was something I could do."

Stephanie's light bulb turned into a spotlight.

"No."

* * *

Stephanie had never heard Bruce sounding so adamant. Not even during her numerous pleas to pilot the Batmobile or the Batplane or that time when she asked him to watch _Mallrats_ with her.

"No! Whaddaya mean no! You just said you needed some more muscle if we were going to bring down Brother Eye and let me just say this girl's gotta a whole lotta muscle!"

"Stephanie, if Batman doesn't want me to be here then I can just go. . ." It hardly took a telepath to notice that Kara's enthusiasm towards this idea hardly matched that of the idea's originator. In fact, it was safe to say that there was no other place on the planet that seemed less hospitable to her than the Batcave.

"Even if I _wanted_ Miss Zo'rel here, Robin, I am not about to threaten my ties with one of the few superheroes that continue to give me the time of day just because you want somebody to gossip with."

"I'm not looking to start up a gab session here," Stephanie protested. "I just thought that I had a good idea here! Besides, Kara already told me that you've been spying on her so it's obvious that you've got to have _some _kind of interest in her."

"I have not been _spying_ on Supergirl," Batman said through gritted teeth. "I have merely been monitoring her through her cousin's request!"

"Oh, so you've been spying on her for somebody else. Well, that just puts a nice damper on the creepy factor," Stephanie scoffed.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Zo'rel? Perhaps a slice of the pecan pie that I just finished making?"

Kara's focus on the increasingly heated argument by Alfred's generous offer. "Um, that's. . . that's okay, sir." Kara's manner of speech clearly indicated that she was hardly cognizant of the proper way to conduct oneself in this type of situation.

"As you wish, Miss Zo'rel." Alfred said kindly before leaving the cave as if this were standard procedure in the world of the Batman.

The argument continued on. "You're the one always telling me to focus on strategy, B," Stephanie went on. "And part of good strategy is to choose allies that can benefit your cause. Kara's strong, she's friendly, and she's trustworthy. Are these not benefits, boss?"

"She's also emotionally unstable, prone to aggression, and is simply mentally unprepared to function within the situations that this kind of job will place her in." Batman countered. "Robin, I have spent the last six months analyzing this young woman and every bit of evidence indicates that Kara Zo'rel is a wild card at best and a potential disaster at worst."

"Oh please!" Stephanie scoffed. "You're aggressive, emotionally unbalanced and mentally unstable too and you don't hear me draggin' on and on about it! And if what you say is true, then as far as I'm concerned that makes her a perfect fit for us! Besides, if you think she needs to be watched over then what's a better way of doing it than by doing it personally."

Kara continued to watch the bizarre goings-on around her, not really certain whether or not she could or should bring her own opinion to the table. Granted, she was pretty ticked that Batman had just essentially called her a muscle-bound basket case, but something else the Batman was doing was beginning to garner her attention. In the seven months she had been on Earth, she had interacted quite frequently with Batman and had seen him in a number of different moods. She had seen him be rigid, caustic, even-handed, paranoid, and, in some rare cases, quite compassionate.

However, this was the first time that she had ever seen him look uncomfortable. And after all the times Batman had made her feel uncomfortable, she had to admit that she quite liked the sight of the shoe being on the other foot.

Kara strode forward, her eyes shining with hope. "Batman, if you just give me a chance I promise I won't let you down! I know we haven't gotten off to the best of starts but I really want to show you that I can do some good if you'll let me!"

Stephanie seemed to be almost giddy at this unexpected show of support. She wrapped a slim arm around Kara's waist. "You heard her, B! Come on!"

What happened next was one of the most disconcerting displays that Bruce Wayne had ever been privy too. Two of the most powerful women on the planet were staring at him, their blue eyes shining and their faces framed by ridiculously large, toothy grins. It was like a live version of the old Doublemint Twin commercials except that one of the twins was five inches taller than the other and the shorter one had a bit of dried blood across the left side of her lip.

"Can we keep her?"

And leave it to Stephanie Brown to say something that would spiral the situation into increasing heights of farcical improbability. Even Kara felt that this was a little much, twisting her head to give her compatriot a flummoxed look. Stephanie merely shrugged her shoulders, tweaked her head back towards Batman and Kara nodded in return. Within moments, the two blondes continued their ridiculous display of puppy eyes and smiley faces.

Finally, if only to end the insanity. . .

"She can stay."

"WOOHOO!" Stephanie crowed. Without so much as a thank you, Robin turned her back on her partner and proceeded to all but carry Kara out of the Batcave. "Welcome to the team, pard! Come on, girl. Time for a chocolate and peanut butter fueled celebration!"

"Wuh, wha, wait a minute! So I'm staying here now? I mean, this place seems nice and everything. . ." Kara blabbered fruitlessly, hopelessly caught within the furors of Hurricane Stephanie.

While the two girls made their exit, Alfred made his reappearance. Bright enough to put two-and-two together, the caretaker of Wayne Manor made a note to inquire about Miss Zo'rel's eating habits so that he wouldn't have to make an unnecessary trip to the grocery store later in the week. He stood by quietly as his longtime employer sat quietly, no doubt contemplating the idea of banging his head against a nearby wall until reaching a state of unconsciousness.

"Well, it appears as if I have yet another guest room to prepare," Alfred said as he placed Bruce's bowl of clam chowder on top of a nearby file cabinet. "Always a thorny affair, seeing as how there are so many to choose from."

A small popping sound interrupted what would have no doubt been a very caustic remark from a very tired detective.

"Whas this about a new roommate?" Lloyd asked brusquely.

Alfred and Batman both took in Lloyd's tremendously ragged appearance.

"My goodness, Master Lloyd. What in heaven's name have you been doing?"

"Quite a bit, Alfred. Went down to El Paso, chased Ambush Bug around the planet, took on the Shadowpact, fought the Spectre, got another appearance from the twinkly guy that helped us stop Envy, ate a couple of churros, and. . ." Lloyd reached into his back pocket, "I got the scarab."

Lloyd tossed the scarab to Batman. In return, the older man placed the scarab beside the bauble that Stephanie had collected and tossed a cold water bottle back at his charge.

"Sit down, Lloyd," Batman said in no less than a whisper.

Lloyd did as he was told. Not necessarily because he was told to do so, but also because he wasn't really up for doing anything more physically taxing.

"You've had quite a day, Lloyd. Are you sure you're all right?"

Lloyd twisted open the top of the water bottle and quickly downed a good portion of its contents. "Oh, yeah. Could prolly do with a bit of rest and a pint of Golden Vanilla but I'll be fine."

"You did a fine job in El Paso." Batman said, his voice calm and relaxed.

Despite feeling rather proud of his accomplishments, the young man tried to downplay it all. "Was just a simple retrieval job, boss. Nothin' special."

"It was anything but." Batman said convincingly. "I'm proud of the way you responded to the situation that developed and you should be as well."

Lloyd grumbled as he slumped further into the inner recesses of his comfy chair. "I'd thank you but I just can't work up the energy right now." Bruce gave him a thin grin. "So it looks like you got everything you wanted out of this little deal," Lloyd went on. "I got the scarab that you can use to find Brother Eye and Steph got you a bit of muscle we can use to fight off the constructs while we do it."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Batman.

Lloyd twisted his head to look at Alfred, not the least bit convinced of Bruce's response. Alfred expressed a similar display of disbelief, albeit with a more distinguished air. "Wayne, that little thing Steph got 's nothing more than a balancing talisman. Nice to have about, no question, but 's not gonna do us any good. Admit it. You knew that Zo'rel girl was in Metropolis so you thought up of an excuse to send Steph out there 'cause you'd hope that she'd drag her back here."

"Your intents _were _rather obvious, Master Bruce." Alfred added. "This was hardly your finest theatric performance."

"It fooled Stephanie," Batman pointed out with only the slightest trace of defensiveness.

"Yeah, that there's a bleedin' accomplishment," Lloyd muttered just before taking another swig from his water bottle. "And I wouldn't be too sure about that either. Give 'er a couple of days and I'm sure she'll put two an' two together."

Batman shook his head in mild disbelief. "Exactly how did you even realize that Supergirl was here, Lloyd?"

"The same way you knew that I was scrappin' wit' the Spectre down in El Paso," Lloyd replied, finishing off his drink before rising up from his seat. "Bleedin' hell, boss. You act like you're the only person about who can operate a communicator."

Lloyd made his way out of the Batcave with Alfred right behind him. "Master Lloyd, you must bear in mind that Master Bruce has a long-standing history of underestimating the intelligence of those that he works with."

"You know I can still fire the both of you!" Batman shouted back, causing the two Brits to break into a round of laughter before leaving the Batcave. After hearing the passageway seal itself shut behind him, Batman removed his cowl, took a deep breath, and continued at his work.


	16. Four Hours

Issue #16

Four Hours

_10:22 P.M._

Supergirl was peeved.

She was just starting to get used to her new life in Gotham City, a life where she felt like she was a part of something, even if that something were a somewhat ragtag team of superheroes. It was the one thing she had wanted the most since she had stepped foot onto her new home (after the seemingly requisite amnesia, relative confusion, and attempted manipulation by megalomaniacal galactic overlord wannabes of course). Now, after spending the last two weeks basking in the glow of positive momentum, Kara now had to deal with the unpleasant situation of a 12-year-old girl screeching at her while being entangled within enormous tendrils of strong, blonde hair.

Yes, hair.

Growing, twisting, disturbingly active hair.

The girl called herself Goldilocks (_'Yet another **fantastic **name for a supervillain,' Kara thought sourly_). She was one of the newest recruits for the criminal organization known as the Brotherhood of Evil, one of the latest rogue groups that had signed with the Society. Kara was relatively certain that Batman had probably told them of the proper counter measure to get out of her current predicament on the way to Bludhaven, but she hadn't quite acquired the patience to take the time out and learn everything about everyone who wanted to kill her. After all, she was still in transition and she had to draw a fine line between working hard and making sure not to overload yourself. Right now, as long as there was someone around who could tell her which guys are the bad guys and how hard she could hit them, she was happy.

"Do you need any assistance, Supergirl?" Batman asked calmly. Kara recognized it more of a gesture of courtesy than a legitimate offer for assistance. He knew she could handle this. He counted on her to handle this. Besides, he seemed to have his hands full with the giant orangutan with the big gun.

Goldilocks continued to try and shatter Kara's eardrums with her girlish shrieking, giving Kara more than enough time to find a good target. Her eyes grew bright red and a blast of heat vision set her opponent's primary weapon ablaze. All intentions of suffocation and murder thrown aside in favor of stopping, dropping, and rolling, Kara soon twisted herself free and thumped the girl's chin with a single finger to her forehead.

Batman watched Goldilocks fall limply to the ground out of the corner of his eyes. "You're running out of available Mallah," he warned his opponent while landing a stiff kick to the jaw. "That's three of your number in as many minutes. Tell us what you know about the Society and we'll go easy on the rest."

"How dare you offer leniency after the unwarrantable horrors you have inflicted upon us!" Mallah bellowed as he attempted to seize the Caped Crusader by the neck with his free hand. The aforementioned giant orangutan with a gun, Mallah was a former lab animal that had been subjected to a cocktail of chemicals that augmented his cognitive capabilities to a degree wherein he could evenly discuss music and theater with the most esteemed connoisseurs of the fine arts, perform revolutionary experiments in order to delve deeper into the mysterious scientific realm of cloning, and also learn how to wield a pretty mean shotgun. It was that last talent that persuaded Batman to keep the fight in close quarters.

"I don't suppose you've forgotten that we didn't attack you until after you attempted to break into Blackgate," Batman pointed out.

"Your pleas and defenses are meaningless, Dark Knight!" Mallah's voice was filled with passionate anger and sorrow. "You have wounded my love! Robbed him of the body and dignity that we labored so greatly to conceive! Your sins are unpardonable and you will pay for them with your life and soul!"

"Yesssss. . ." Kara looked down to focus on the droning, mechanical voice near her feet. "Avenge me, my love. Punish this foul scoundrel for the profanities he has inflicted upon the both of us."

The voice belonged to The Brain, the longtime leader of the Brotherhood of Evil. Formerly one of the world's foremost experts in the field of neurology, a jealous rival had gone to great lengths to discredit him and sabotage his brilliant work, culminating in arranging an enormous explosion that ruined his rival's body. The only part of the Brain's body that survived the attack was his mind, which the obsessed rival encased within a robot body in hopes of employing it for his own work. What the rival had not anticipated was that Mallah, perhaps the Brain's most successful scientific venture, was capable enough to rescue his mentor from this ignoble fate. The pair had spent the last decade searching for a way to return the Brain to a human body. Over the years, Mallah had apparently developed a Florence Nightingale complex and had fallen in love with The Brain and it appeared that The Brain felt the same in return.

Kara was relatively certain that it was the single weirdest story that could have ever been told, but Lloyd and Stephanie both told her that they had heard weirder.

"Need any help, Batman?" Kara asked in return. After all, it was only fair.

"Do not interfere with our duel, unwanted alien! This is a duel borne of spurned ardor and heartless abandon. If this monster wishes to annihilate the exquisite form that I had crafted so circumspectly for my love then he must have the dignity and honor to defend his injustices. This is combat of the highest order!"

"Yesssss," prattled the Brain, "yesssssss."

Kara calmly kicked what was left of the Brain away from her if only to assuage her creepiness level.

"I'm through playing around," Batman said calmly. Leaping as high as his normal human legs could allow him, he flung a batarang that struck Mallah's hand in just the right spot to knock the shotgun from the primate's hands. Keeping on the offensive, he came down with a surgically precise jump kick that caught Mallah in the forehead. Once both of his feet were back on the ground, the detective formed his hands into knifepoints and jabbed the middle and ring fingers of both of his hands into either side of Mallah's neck. It was the simplest of pressure point strikes, an attack that could be done properly with only several months of proper training. As simple as it was however, it was more than enough to send Mallah crashing to the ground.

Batman calmly brushed himself off. "Have you secured your opponents, Kara?"

Kara nodded in a businesslike fashion while gesturing towards Goldilocks who was quite well restrained by a twisted steel lamppost. "Brain doesn't look like he's going anywhere either."

The tempered glass holder still lay on the ground. The container was undeniably sturdy but it left little in the ways of mobility.

"We're still missing one, though," Batman pointed out. "We're missing. . ."

"LOOK OUT!" Kara's shout was blunted out by the gust of wind that swept up as she dashed towards Batman. The German mutated monstrosity known as Plasmus had recovered nicely from the effects of Batman's small explosives and had taken the opportunity to spit an enormous gob of caustic radioactive waste at his former opponent. However, it was Kara that would take the hit in his defense. If the discharge had hit Batman, the radioactive burning and scarring could very well have been fatal even with the protection of Kevlar armor that could deflect bullets. For Supergirl, it was another embarrassing but essentially harmless footnote in her short career as a crime fighter.

"Ew," Supergirl properly surmised.

Batman pulled out two small devices from his utility belt and threw them at the former coal miner. They exploded upon impact with Plasmus' protoplasmic body. However, instead of enveloping Plasmus in flame, the villain soon found himself covered in ice. The effects of the liquid nitrogen soon took their toll on Plasmus' extensively durable body. Batman knew that such an attack would certainly not kill someone as durable as Plasmus, but it would incapacitate the mutant long enough for him to find a way to better contain the irradiated monster.

With all available opponents defeated Batman took the time out to examine his partner-in-arms. "That was hardly necessary, Supergirl," he pointed out.

"Yes, yes. I know." Supergirl replied testily.

"I was perfectly capable of dodging Plasmus' attack on my own."

"I know! I KNOW!"

"Besides, you're more than quick enough to have been able to get us both out of the line of fire."

Kara couldn't quite avoid that legitimate point. "Look! I was just trying to make sure that you were all right! I thought that's what teammates are supposed to do!"

"And if you gave me the time to explain then I would be able to thank you for your efforts. However, although Otto Von Furth's radioactivity may not affect you, the acid he spits contains corrosive chemicals that can burn through many different substances. Substances that Mrs. Kent might use to make your costume, for instance."

"My costume?" Supergirl asked nervously.

Batman nodded gravely.

"EEEEEEK!"

As an exceedingly embarrassed, half-naked Kara Zo'rel flew back to Wayne Manor to get some new clothes, Batman went back to his task of finding a way to contain Mallah.

* * *

_10:24 P.M._

"All right, Carl! Time to pack it in, man! Gotta leave something for the third shift to do!"

Carl Thompson used his handkerchief to wipe away a stray bead of sweat from his forehead before pulling away from his small part on the assembly line. The middle-aged factory worker couldn't quite hide all of his irritation as he looked up to see Floyd, his relief, come ambling through the engine blocks and wiring clusters. "Leave somethin', my ass man! Where the hell you been?"

"My bad, man! My little girl caught that flu bug that's been goin' around." Carl quickly moved to apologize for his hostility but his friend waved it off. "Yeah, poor kid hocked up what was left of her cheeseburger right 'fore I left the house. Thought I'd have to take her to the hospital."

"Hey, just so long as you keep your kid away from my little girl then we'll be cool, man." Carl said with a jovial smile.

"Fuck you, man!" Floyd fired back as they both shared a laugh. "You gonna pick yo girl up?"

"Yeah. Brianna's been stayin' over with her grandmamma. Gonna get the hell up out of here, try and get her out of there without wakin' her, and get her back in bed 'fore she wants to go to Mickie Dee's or some shit."

By the time Carl had told Floyd about his strategy, Floyd was halfway towards putting on his safety gear. "Shit, I heard that. "Aight, man. Take it easy." Carl turned to take his leave but Floyd remembered something else and called him back. "By the way. You hear the latest word out about the winged rat?"

Carl turned around, shaking his head in an incredulous fashion. "Damn, man. What you got against the Bat anyway? What he ever do to you?"

"Left me with my sister's kids, that's what." Floyd replied cynically. He continued to rant while Carl began to snicker. "Don't laugh, mother fucker. The Bat catches my sister dealin' up on Third Avenue, her kids get put up in protective custody and it's either me dealin' with 'em or a foster home."

"So you tellin' me you gonna blame the Bat for getting your little crack head sister off the streets and helpin' put her kids in a good house. Yeah, man. I can see why you'd be pissed off!"

"It ain't that, man! I ain't sayin' I'm not happy to have 'em but who ever asked this dude to do any of this? You see this guy employed by the five-o's?"

"You know the police can't do shit against some of those alien dudes you always read about in the papers, man! Floyd seemed ready to say something in response but Carl cut him off. "And don't start tellin' me that it's all just some media bullshit. You know it's real, man!"

"Man, you ever see guys like Joker or Killer Croc around before guys like Batman started showin' up, dog? It's all a conspiracy, man; just a bunch of super-powered loonies scrappin' for their own entertainment. And it ain't them that gets hurt at the end of the day, Carl, it's people like us."

Carl nodded, giving the point to his surprisingly philosophical friend. "Alright, man. Alright. I ain't gonna fight you on it. I'm too damn tired. Let me just ask you this though."

"What's up?"

"You like Batman or Superman?"

The question brought the tension to a screeching halt. "Damn, Carl! You know I'll take the Bat!" The two friends knocked fists and laughed. "Gotham born, man! Gotham born!"

"Damn right. Take it easy, dog."

* * *

_10:41 P.M._

By the time Kara Zo'rel had returned to the battlefield with a fresh, acid-free outfit, the others were already quite finished wrapping up the proceedings and the G.C.P.D. had arrived. Mallah was being kept unconscious with the aid of neurological inhibitors, Plasmus remained frozen, and Goldilocks was still on dream street. Lloyd and Stephanie had taken care of their share as well, apparently having little trouble defeating and restraining Elephant Man, Mirage, and Warp. As for the Brotherhood's leader, the Brain was currently screaming obscenities and threats of revenge while being kicked back and forth by Lloyd and Stephanie.

As Kara's feet hit the pavement, Stephanie raised her head and waved at her partner. "Hey Kare Bear? Want to play Kick the Brain?"

Kara silently declined the offer, choosing instead to make her way over towards Batman. A quick scan of the area didn't indicate any unidentified surveillance equipment so Kara had assumed that it was safe to make a bit of a public appearance. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she offered.

"Thank you for the offer Supergirl, but we're nearly done here." Batman told her before shifting his attention to his two other assistants. "That is if the both of you would actually go about doing your jobs!"

Neither Lloyd nor Stephanie chose to respond immediately towards their boss's pressing order. After several unnecessary moments, Lloyd spoke up after using a header to send the Brain's amazingly durable protective shell back to Stephanie. "Relax, O Ye of Little Faith. We've 'andled our end. Mallah and the Brain don't know anything more about the Society's plans than your little mole has already dug up for us. The information was spot on though. These blokes were heading for Blackgate to spring that Chemo fellow you told us about an' it didn't look like they were doin' it to fill in an empty seat at a tea party."

Batman nodded. He was well aware of the Society's intentions towards Chemo and the thought of it made him shudder. "Robin? Have you successfully restrained the remaining members of the Brotherhood."

"Everything is secured, B." Stephanie replied. She had been using her left foot to not so gently keep the Brain's protective casing from hitting the ground. "Everybody except this guy that is." Breaking the first rule of football, Stephanie snagged the Brain's carapace and held it firmly in her hands. "You're not holding any info out on us, are you? Personally, I would probably try to avoid having somebody pick through my brain if a brain was all I be."

"Fetid little urchin," the Brain hissed. "I shall not rest until your stinking corpses are my playthings. Your crude affronts against me and my colleagues only serve to fuel an unquenchable conflagration that will consume you completely."

"That's nice," Stephanie replied while using her ring to create a soundproof barrier around the megalomaniacal former scientist. "All right! Time to cart the Brotherhood off to S.T.A.R. Labs! I don't suppose we can call it a night after we're done doin' that?"

Stephanie's question was answered when a frantic-looking police officer rushed up to them.

"Batman! There's been an explosion at Arkham Asylum. It's a full-on escape!"

Batman's eyes widened only a fraction. He quickly reined in his surprise and worry. There was no place for that. He quickly turned towards Lloyd, speaking in a tone that clearly indicated he didn't require a response. "Lloyd, I want you to take Kara and Lloyd and get to Arkham on the double. Incapacitate and recapture as many hostile escapees as you can."

"And by many, of course, you mean all?" Stephanie asked.

"That would be the preferred result."

Like Stephanie, Lloyd knew that Batman wasn't looking for any chatter but he couldn't just ignore what he was thinking. "You're sure about this, boss? This could be a trap set up by the Society; maybe a ways and means to get us to divided and conquered."

"I understand your concerns Black Dog, but we can't allow those monsters loose. If this is a trap, then we're simply going to have to spring it. Be careful, be on your guard, and be precise."

Needing no more motivation, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie took to the sky. Since she knew the city like the back of her hand, Stephanie was quick to take point, her small frame an emerald streak across the Gotham skies.

"Our lives sure are busy, aren't they?" Kara asked as she flew alongside Lloyd.

"Keeps things from getting boring, pet," Lloyd pointed out.

"I'm not your _pet_," Kara growled.

* * *

_10:47 A.M._

It was safe to say that Arkham Asylum was a bit more volatile than other criminal shelters and sanatoriums. After all, Arkham was nothing more than a housing unit for some of the most dangerous criminals walking the planet. For some of the denizens within, it was nothing more than a temporary rest stop for robbers and murderers whose schemes have been momentarily put on hold.

To drive down a laundry list of problems into one single statement, Arkham Asylum simply did not have the capabilities or the finances to sufficiently contain the threats held within it. The institution was a nationwide laughing stock, a symbol of the inability of the criminal justice system to properly contain criminals that were not of the garden level variety. Now, in the asylum's defense, a mass escape of this magnitude was quite a rarity. A disturbing number of dangerous men and women were sprinting away from the premises; monsters who could set Gotham into a panicked uproar should they be allowed to roam free.

However, the most dangerous people in Gotham flew above them all: three young warriors who were more than ready to put them back where they belonged. They soared through the skies above Arkham like a murder of crows circling above a tangle of running mice. They descended into the ensuing madness as one and quickly went to work. Their tasks were formulated well in advance and they each carried our their duties with near flawless precision.

Lloyd used a combination of fists and telepathy to calm the crowd down in his own unique fashion. Kara whizzed through the throng at an inhuman speed, scattering the criminals and sending them tumbling to the ground before they even knew what had hit them. Stephanie worked from a distance using her ring to pick off or carry back the few escapees that had managed either to escape Kara or Lloyd's clutches or were threatening the safety of the asylum personnel. Though it was far too late to save the lives of those unfortunate souls who had attempted to quell the mass escape, the three of them could still do whatever they could to make certain that there was no more loss of life.

Despite their far superior numbers, the escapees were little match for their focused and prepared pursuers. Lloyd leveled the gargantuan Amygdala with a single punch, an imposing enough gesture for some of the escapees that they surrendered before the same could happen to them. The Joker was knocked unconscious by a speeding blur of red, blue, and blonde and placed within a confinement room before he could so much as crack a psychotic grin. As for poor Pamela Isley, the woman known as Poison Ivy, she had taken one look at Robin before she ran back to her cell screaming bloody murder.

All in all, it was a textbook recapture operation, if one would could ever find a tome that would willingly describe such a frenzied and unruly state-of-affairs. However, even the greatest of books are not flawless, even the greatest tomes have qualities or aspects that could have been made better. In the case of the tale of the Asylum Arkham breakout, the story's flaw was that it was missing a character.

He wasn't the most dangerous or deranged person in Arkham Asylum. That honor was firmly within the grasp of the Joker. He wasn't the cleverest, the quickest, or the most cunning, but there was no denying that he was dangerous. And like a crack in the already crumbling dam, he would play his part in the chaos that was to come.

* * *

_11:05 P.M._

"The man's name is Victor Zsasz," Lloyd told Batman over the communication line. "Don't have a bloody clue how he managed to get away from us or who he is but judgin' from how Robin looked at me when I told 'er about it, somethin' tells me this is serious."

The severe tone in Batman's voice only exacerbated Lloyd's suspicions. "We need to find Zsasz immediately! So long as he remains at large he is a danger to everyone in this city."

"Really?" Batman's statement seemed to have piqued Kara's interest. "Just what all can this guy do?"

"By the circumstances of your question, Zsasz is normal. However, I assure you that Zsasz is anything but. He was once the head of an international shipping company before losing it all and going into a deep depression. Now he's a wholesale murderer; a monster who believes it is his life's mission to liberate people from a pointless existence."

"Nuttin' better than a killer with a lifestyle plan," Lloyd said darkly. "So wot're this guy's stats? Height? Weight? Distinguishin' marks? Any other modus operandi?"

"Six-foot-one, 160 pounds." Batman replied quickly. "His normal victims are usually young women, mid-to-late teens, although Zsasz will be more than happy to settle for anyone within reach. His preferred method of killing is with a knife or a switchblade, slitting the throats of his victims and leaving them in a reposed state." The gasp from Kara's communicator was quite clear, but Batman pressed forward. "He normally has short, close-shaven blonde hair but it isn't beneath him to alter his appearance in order to get closer to one of his targets. Lastly, his arms, chest, stomach, back, legs, and feet are covered in scars."

"Self-inflicted, no doubt," said Lloyd.

"They're a tally count of his victims," Batman replied gravely. "Each one symbolizing a victim."

"Well, isn't that just lovely," Lloyd drawled out. "Right. You keep 'andlin' your end, boss. We'll bring him back to Arkham. Black Dog out."

Kara shut off her communicator as well. She felt a cold sickness begin to well up in the pit of her stomach. Batman's description of Zsasz had shaken her far more than learning of the exploits of Mongul or Despero or any other intergalactic threat that her cousin had taken great measure to tell her about.

"You gonna be all right, Zo'rel?" Lloyd asked sincerely.

Kara turned towards Lloyd, momentarily forgetting the anger she felt after he had called her "pet". "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. I just think Stephanie should be here instead."

"Steph's busy with the Arkham cleanup, luv. It's just the two of us for this. If it suits ya, I can go it alone."

"No, I'll be okay. It's just that, well, I don't remember anybody like this guy back on Krypton."

That drew Lloyd's interest, although it wasn't for the reason that Kara had anticipated. "You startin' to remember 'bout your home? 'Bout your past?"

Kara frowned. Despite being phenomenally perturbed by the task at hand, Lloyd's question did little to comfort her. In fact, it only caused the uneasiness she felt to intensify. In addition to arriving on Earth without her family or anything else to remind her of home, the extensive cryogenics she had been placed into left her with only slight bits of memory of the life she had. She didn't know what her father was like, how she had known that Kal-El was her cousin, and worst of all, she didn't know what kind of person she was.

There was something inside her. Something wrong. Batman suspected it, she knew it, and Darkseid and Lex Luthor had gone through extensive measures in their attempts to bring it out of her. She knew it wasn't as simple as having a "dark side" and she knew that her problem couldn't be solved with a magic lasso. The idea of actually confronting somebody like Zsasz, someone who wore their sin like a second skin, was not something Kara thought she was quite capable of doing. It wasn't a matter of being afraid for her safety. Zsasz couldn't possibly hurt her. What frightened her was the niggling possibility that she may have been just like him.

Maybe even worse.

"_Eyes on the prize, pet._" Kara was snapped out of her dim abstraction by the sound of Lloyd's telepathic voice ringing through her head. "_There'll be time to worry about that later_."

"I didn't say you could come waltzing into my head." Kara replied crossly.

"It was either that or cuffin' you in the back of the head." Lloyd said simply. "Come on. We gotta get after this wanker. We'll work our way out from Arkham. You take the east and the south and I'll go north and west. Even if he managed to nick a car he shouldn't have gotten too far away from us."

"Just how are we supposed to find this guy? There's millions of people in this town."

Lloyd's reply was far too simple for Kara's liking. "Zo'rel, you take a guy like Zsasz and a town of this size? Your best bet is to follow the screams."

* * *

_11:22 P.M._

Brianna Thompson didn't scream.

She didn't scream when she woke up on the couch that her grandmamma had set her down on when her sweet dreams had been smashed with the sounds of a scuffle and the unfamiliar sound of steel slicing against human flesh and scraping against bone. Brianna didn't even scream as she watched her grandmother's dead body come crashing down upon the hard tile of the kitchen floor, blood streaming from her lips and splattering across the floor as her skull smashed against the linoleum. Her daddy taught her to be strong. He had taught her that whenever she thought a bad man was trying to hurt her, she should run. Run as fast as she could to somewhere safe.

And that's what she was going to do. She chugged her little feet across the living room carpet, her arms outreached and stretching for the front door as she did so.

The bad man got there first, sliding himself between her and the door. He coiled his arms around her, the sharp bloody knife immediately at her throat and a hand around her mouth. She wouldn't scream, she wouldn't scream, she wouldn't scream.

"Easy, kiddo. Easy." Even the bad man's voice sounded sharp. Sharp and nasty. Not at all like the bad guys in the cartoons. "It will all be over in an instant. There's no need to be afraid. I just needed a place to hide out for a moment and you just happened to be in the way."

The bad man lifted her up, still keeping the knife at her throat. He continued to speak in a whisper. "Truth be told, I'm doing you both a favor. Take a look at that old woman. Was she your grandma? Is that who she was?" The bad man gently placed her down on one of the old chairs around the kitchen table. "Take a look at this place. Run down, decrepit, decayed. This is no place for a good woman to spend out her last years. What peace is there in this?" The bad man started to walk around the kitchen. He saw his grandmamma's medicine. "Your body ceaselessly deteriorating in front of your eyes with no hope in sight for recovery. Life only brings pain, little one. Repugnant, unnecessary pain. Death is the only solace."

She didn't hear the bad man's words. She had to get away. She had to get back to her daddy. Her daddy could save her.

So she ran for the door again.

And screamed as she did so.

* * *

_11:23 A.M._

Oliver Queen had once likened Superman's hearing to being able to hear a hummingbird fart. Although Batman had yet to compare Kara's own listening capabilities with that of her cousin, it was safe to say that her capabilities were in the same ballpark. Thus, when she heard the shrill scream from five miles away, it may as well have happened right in front of her.

KRASH!

The first thing Kara saw was Zsasz's bloodthirsty grin; those dead black eyes such a hideous contrast to his gleaming white teeth. Then she took in the dead woman on the floor and the squirming little girl in the murderer's scar-covered arms. She was assaulted by the pungent scent of the old woman's blood and the little girl's sweat and Zsasz's putrefied stench.

It was so much to take in. "Put the girl down, Zsasz!" She tried to sound strong. Not frightened. Not the least bit frightened.

Zsasz turned to her slowly. "What do we have here?" Zsasz rasped, not sounding the least bit frightened or surprised. "Another doe-eyed little girl who thinks she's a hero? Is that what you are? Think you're just gonna swoop in and save the day? Gonna be that brave little hero who sits in front of the newspaper and smiles for your picture in the newspaper as the bad man goes off to jail? Well, I just got out of jail and you're no hero."

For Kara, listening to Zsasz's voice was almost an hypnotic experience; the even, serene tones blunting the impact of his harsh words. _What do you mean she wasn't a hero. She was a hero. Her cousin told her so. _

"The look in your eyes tells me you don't have what it truly takes to be a hero. To defend good people from things like THIS!"

Kara Zo'rel was fast enough to circumnavigate the planet in the blink of an eye. You know the old saying about her cousin? Faster than a speeding bullet? More powerful than a locomotive? She was all that and maybe then some. But she wasn't fast enough to stop the tearing through the skin or to stop the blood from dripping to the floor. She didn't have enough in her to keep that tiny heart beating.

Zsasz tossed the little girl aside and rushed at Supergirl, his blood-soaked knife aimed straight for her exposed abdomen. The impact with Kara's flesh only caused the knife to shatter in two. Quickly realizing that this wasn't a fight he could win, Zsasz stared up at the girl with an expectant grin. He knew what was coming: the big, hero-brand knockout punch.

Kara fulfilled her end of the bargain. She used the barest fraction of her strength to strike Zsasz right on the nose, the cartilage snapping like wet wood. Zsasz was nothing to the Kryptonian; a bag of meat and bones that could not even hope to comprehend the power at her disposal and he somehow made her feel weak and frightened, if only for the slightest moment. And he insulted her? Insulted her ability and immersing himself with the confidence that she wouldn't, she couldn't bring an end to his miserable life!

_Who was he to think so little of her!_

_No_.

No.

She wouldn't let this happen. She wouldn't let her anger get the best of her as it had in New York with Powergirl or in Kansas with the Teen Titans. She would do what her cousin would do. She would do what Batman would do.

Real heroes don't kill.

Zsasz sniggered. His broken nose made his laughter sound like a horrid wheeze. "No better than me," he mumbled. "No different from me. Death is the only answer and you're just too scared of that truth to accept it!"

Ignoring Zsasz's words, Kara began to calm herself down. She heard the bang of a screen door as another man came into the room. Just like that, her ever-brief moment of peace had been shattered in an instant. A man rushed into the living room, the look on his eyes clearly stating that he was ready for a fight and to protect his home and loved ones.

He wasn't ready to see what his mother and his daughter had become.

"I'm. . . I'm so sorry." Kara said. "I. . . I tried to stop him."

"Ah yes, the child's father, I presume?" Zsasz asked as he remained sprawled across the floor. "No worries, my good man. I assure you that both of them are now in a better place and that this fine hero will soon bring me to justice."

Carl Thompson's eyes and lips were both silent and screaming as he cast his gaze upon the eyes of the man who murdered his daughter, the man who left his little Brianna in a slumping heap on top of his mother's kitchen table.

"Quite frankly," Zsasz said calmly, "you should be thanking me."

Gunshot. Recoil. Look of shock. Bullet within a black heart.

Too bad for Zsasz that Carl never called himself a hero.


	17. Necessary Words

Issue #17

Necessary Words

_11:37 P.M._

It had taken a lot out of Kara Zo'rel to reactivate her communicator and ask Batman to contact the police. Still, it seemed like a good idea. Batman was bound to have dealt with something like this before.

'_Maybe I should have called Stephanie. 'Or even Lloyd. Then again, they would've just gotten the news back to Batman, wouldn't they? Damn it. How am I going to explain how I let this happen? How am I going to justify just how badly she screwed up? Would Batman fire her? Stephanie said that Batman fired her after she screwed up? I don't want be fired. I don't want to fail._

Pause.

_I should be comforting the father. Yeah, that's what I should be doing. That's what my cousin would do. He probably does this all the time._

_Well, maybe not **all **the time. _

Kara slowly crept up to Carl Thompson, a man who seemed to be torn between wanting to hold his mother, cradle his daughter, or simply sitting down on the kitchen floor and shattering. Instead, he merely stood still as stone casting a hazy eye before the bloody scene before him. He was trying to figure out whether or not if this was real; if anything this awful could be real.

"I'm sorry about your loss, sir," Kara said, hopelessly lost and understandably cautious. "Is. . . is there anything I can do?"

The reality of it all hit Carl in the face and he reacted in the only way he possibly could.

"Get the hell out of my house."

"Sir, I think I should wait for the police to arrive." Kara tried to remain calm. Rational. That seemed like the right thing to do. "I could help explain everything. . ."

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The first two shots from Carl's gun bounced off of Kara's chest and crashed through the roof. The third shot missed her by inches. A batarang knocked the gun away before the grief-stricken man could fire again. Left without a way to fight, Carl slumped down to the floor by his mother.

Kara turned towards the front door knowing and dreading what she was about to see.

Batman and Lloyd stood at the front door. She couldn't see the Batplane outside so she had presumed that the former had asked the latter to teleport him here. Kara could hear Lloyd's slight intake of breath and realized that he was about to launch into one of his pithy little comments before he caught sight of the three dead bodies on the floor. His eyes widened only a fraction, a clear sign that he had seen sights like this for and had probably seen a great deal worst. Batman's face, at least the small parts of his face that she could see, held a similar expression.

Batman spoke first, his tone so calm and rational that it almost terrified her. "Have you contacted the police?"

Kara was about to tell Batman that she hadn't. That she thought he was going to do that.

"They're already on their way."

_Oh, he was talking to Lloyd._

Batman walked over to Zsasz, placing two fingers on the man's carotid artery so he could check for a pulse. Kara dimly noticed that he didn't make the slightest movement towards the two other bodies.

"So what happened here?"

Kara began to muster up an explanation from the jumble of excuses and reasonable and irrational thoughts.

"Zsasz broke into the house and killed the grandmother. Kara arrived just as Zsasz killed the kid. The man showed up a little bit after and shot Zsasz."

Lloyd again. Kara knew that she should have been insulted by the fact that Lloyd had essentially plucked the information from her mind, but she couldn't quite work up the effort to do so.

"You want me to get 'er out of here an' you can wait on the cops?"

Batman nodded.

"An' Robin?" Suddenly, Kara really wished Lloyd would stop talking. Just stop making noise. "Want me to give her a ring an' tell her to meet back with us?"

"I'll take care of that," Batman replied. "Just get Supergirl out of here."

"This is all your fault."

It was funny. Kara had almost forgotten that there was a fourth person in the room.

Carl Thompson had crawled over to his daughter in the interim and was now cradling her in his lap. The blood that gushed through the hole in her throat had slowed, but not fully ceased.

"All this shit! It's all yo' fault. You coulda stopped this from happenin'."

Kara moved to apologize once again. She knew that it wouldn't mean a great deal but she couldn't think of anything else she could do. However, Lloyd had somehow managed to get in front of her. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, the impact of someone's touch jolting her.

"'E's not talkin' to you, luv." Lloyd whispered.

"This guy right here?" Carl pointed a quivering finger at Zsasz. "I've heard of this motherfucker. Some murderin' shit you must have fought a whole bunch of times. An' every time you caught him man, you just handed him over to the cops. Then he'd break out or some shit and he'd go on killin' people all over again and you'd turn him back in." Tears began to leak from Carl's eyes as he continued to support his daughter. "I don't know why you do what you do, man. I don't really give a god damn anymore either, but if you actually cared 'bout the people 'round here, you would have put this little shit in the ground a long time ago."

Carl laughed. It was a bitter, choked gasp that received Kara's undivided attention. The broken man continued speaking, tears beginning to well out of his dying eyes. "Y'know. On second thought, I think I do know why you do what you do. Maybe you just do it to make yourself think that you're more important than the rest of us. So you can go on and think you're above all the little people that get killed while you and your little fuckin' costumed freaks go at it. An' when you put 'em in jail or turn 'em in to the government maybe you can go to sleep at night thinkin' you've done something good and that you better than the people you goin' after."

The indignant victim turned to look at his mother, laughed, and heaved in his sorrow, waggling a finger at Batman as he did so. "Naw. Naw. Maybe that ain't it either. Maybe the reason you don't really take care of these monsters, why you don't just take 'em out, is that maybe you already know that you're just like them! And what happens if you take them out? What happens when you kill Joker, Penguin, or this little shit right here? What happens when all the _bad guys _are gone? What'cha gonna fight then? How you gonna make life interesting? You ain't a hero! You're probably just some rich motherfucker lookin' to kill time. Get your damn kicks."

Still sobbing, Carl dragged himself over to his mother's body while he held onto his daughter. He took his mother's still warm hand in his own. "Or maybe you think you all full of justice! Well, my momma's dead, my baby girl's dead, and I'm goin' to jail. Where's yo justice there, you fuckin' freak! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU!"

"Lloyd." Batman's voice was a whisper.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET THE HELL OUT, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Lloyd!" The Dark Knight's whisper turned into a shout.

Kara looked on as a wave of exhaustion seemed to course over Carl Thompson. His head dipped low and he slumped against his daughter as he lost consciousness. With nothing left to support it, his mother's hand plummeted back down to the blood-slick floor.

"Lloyd! Get Supergirl out of here! Now!"

Kara could feel the fury and indignation in Batman's voice. Judging from the look in Lloyd's eyes as they teleported away, it was quite obvious that the dark knight was not the only one who felt that way.

Kara suddenly realized that this wasn't over.

And it wasn't going to end well.

* * *

_11:42 P.M._

Slade Wilson strode into Noah Kuttler's quarters in an almost leisurely fashion, a presence of mind that looked exceedingly unnatural considering the man doing the walking. Still, after his hideously embarrassing performance in Gotham, even someone as justifiably self-confident as Deathstroke the Terminator could do with a pick-me-up. Now that he had been bestowed with such a wonderful gift he had decided, in a rare gesture of good will, to share his good cheer with one of the few people he considered to be worthwhile company.

"You busy, Kuttler?" Slade couldn't quite hide his chuckling.

The Calculator reluctantly tore himself away from his assortment of active computer and television monitors to give Slade a courteous, if somewhat distressed signal to come in. Noah had previously met similar results in his assignment to eliminate the Birds of Prey. At first the bespectacled computer wizard was quite chagrined with the knowledge that he had been outsmarted by Oracle. After all, when you spend years honing your craft in a field of your choosing the sensation of being outfoxed by someone else in your field can be an exceptionally bitter pill to swallow. However, the litany of new assignments that Lex Luthor had bestowed upon him kept him from obsessing over it as he normally would have done.

"I'll take a shot in the dark and guess that you're aware of what happened to Mallah and the rest of the Brotherhood?" Slade asked.

Try as he might, Noah couldn't quite withhold the urge to laugh. "Indeed I have. I've even recorded a bit of the footage of Mrs. Brown and Mr. Thomas kicking The Brain back and forth if you're interested in seeing it?"

Slade smirked. Still, he resisted the temptation and waved the offer away. "I was wondering if you could explain to me why Luthor and Talia thought it was a good idea to send a talking ape, a brain in a bucket, and their cavalcade of freaks out on a supposed covert mission?"

"Well, you're supposed to be the military mastermind of our inner circle, Slade. Perhaps you could have suggested a more efficient strategy."

Slade snorted contemptuously. "Inner circle my eye! You know as well as I do who's in charge of this operation, Kuttler. We may as well be the rank and file so long as Luthor is concerned."

Noah sighed as he ran his thin, long fingers through his thinning, straw-blonde hair. "Yes, that thought had occurred to me."

"You should see what's going on in Lex's office," Slade went on as he took a seat across from the Society's computer expert. "Talia is still bitching to Lex about being out of the loop, Psycho's still hung up on wanting to dismember every single person who ever beat him down, and Lex is acting like he's too good to listen to either of him."

Noah shook his head in a profoundly bemused fashion. He would have never pegged Deathstroke the Terminator to be a fan of gossip. Then again, Noah could understand the need for levity in this kind of situation. "And what do our fellow members of our cabal, as Lex once asked me to not put it, think of the architect of our current misfortunes? What of the Batman?"

Slade's smirk was absolutely terrifying to Noah. "Oh Noah, that's the best part of it! The three of them are still in there goin' at it. Psycho and Luthor both want Batman's head on a platter but Talia keeps insisting that his death is unnecessary."

"A reluctance no doubt due to Talia's unrequited and quite apparent adoration for Gotham's resident dark knight," Noah needlessly explained. "Well, it appears we have quite the intriguing soap opera going on amidst our fellow anarchists. Still, as intriguing as this drama may be, I still don't have the foggiest idea why Luthor or anyone else would have any interest in recruiting a monstrosity like Chemo."

"There are some advantages to having a nigh-indestructible living bomb, Noah."

"Only if you plan on inflicting genocide." Noah turned to look at Slade directly. "Honestly, Slade? Do we really have the slightest clue as to what Lex's true motivations are? Just how far is he willing to go to achieve his ambitions? What if he was planning on dropping that monstrosity onto New York City just so he could eliminate the Justice Society? All those innocent lives that would be annihilated to eliminate only a handful!"

"There's always casualties in war, Kuttler," Slade simply replied.

Noah sighed again, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose as he did so. "Well, you'll forgive me if I don't share your callousness. Though I agree that this is a war and I willingly choose to engage with it, I've never held a great affection for bloodshed or violence."

"Is this a genuine bête-noir or a consequence of the fact that you can't fight your way out of a paper bag?"

Noah seemed ready to give Slade a sharp look before he considered just whom he would be looking sharp at and thought the better of it. "A little bit of both, actually," he replied with pursed lips.

Slade nodded, seemingly willing to accept Noah's defense. "They were going to use him to blow up Bludhaven."

Noah needed a moment to take that in. It took another moment to stop himself from trying to find how he could possibly explain playing a role in the extermination of four million people. However, it didn't take long at all to shake himself away from it all. After all, he had a great deal of experience in the field.

"Noah, just between you, me, and the wall, I'm pretty damn glad they failed too. I'll have Grayson's head on a wall. Same with Wayne and his little cartoon pals, but I'd rather have it done on my own terms."

The two gentlemen remained silent for a moment with only the whirs and buzzes of the monitors around them to keep them company.

Slade looked Noah dead in the eye and spoke again. "Why the hell _are_ you here, Kuttler?"

"Hmm." Noah curved his fingers around his chin as he searched for the best way to respond. "The chance to be something more than a walking joke, the opportunity to be part of something larger than myself. Of course, there's also the ever-looming threat of being hideously murdered, disfigured, and/or imprisoned by whichever side I choose not to align myself along."

"All equally powerful motivations." Slade replied.

"Speaking of motivational factors, your daughter called. She's in Bludhaven and awaiting your instructions. Also I believe that she asked if she could eat at McDonald's tonight."

It still seemed odd to Noah to see Slade Wilson, one of the most notorious killers on the planet, could groan in an agitated, paternal fashion. The mercenary ran a gauntlet-clad hand through his iron-gray hair in a mild state of agitation. "Damn kids. Worse than any superhero I've ever run into." Slade rose up from his chair. "Just remind me to get back at you for that little assumption should I forgot, Kuttler."

Calculator merely turned back to his work, taking a sip of his stale coffee as he listened to the soft tap of footsteps indicating Slade's return to the battlefield.

* * *

_11:55 P.M._

Alfred, Kara, and Lloyd looked up as the Batplane roared into the musty confines of the Batcave. Kara sat atop of one of the file cabinets; her long, blue jean-clad legs bent so that her knees were just below her eyes. Alfred had asked on several occasions if Kara would prefer more efficient seating accommodations, but the young woman insisted she was fine. Lloyd was in his usual seat by the mainframe impatiently drumming his fingers against one of the armrests. After abandoning his quest to comfort the obviously distressed Miss Zo'rel, Alfred hung about silently on the periphery, an activity he was prone to do.

Batman walked towards the three of them in long, even strides. He was a man either on the verge of complete emotional breakdown or an all-out rage. His strong but troubled mind was a rickety seesaw that looked ready to break with the addition of the slightest weight.

And what had happened in the last two hours was nothing short of a boulder.

He went for Kara first, pointing a finger and striding towards the teenager. "What the hell happened?"

Lloyd cut him off, physically and verbally. "Ease up, boss."

"Stay out of this, Lloyd." Batman moved to shove Lloyd out of the way, but the young man stood his ground. He simply didn't allow the detective to move him.

"Want to know what happened, Wayne? She messed up. I messed up. You messed up. We all messed up. Talkin' 'bout it now's not gonna accomplish anything."

"Two innocent people died tonight," Batman said furiously. "I assure you that getting a reason for why it happened will accomplish something."

"Well, pardon me for being a bit callous but 's not like this was the first time somebody was caught in the crossfire. It's also not like this is the first time somebody bollocksed something up." Lloyd spoke with equal determination. "She's shook up right now and the last thing she needs is a formal inquiry. I know this is bad but that doesn't mean you've got a right to go back to bein' Bat-Ass just because we've hit a bump in the road."

"Guys. . ."

"This isn't about my sensibilities, Lloyd! It's not about preserving someone's feelings. This is about having responsibility for one's actions."

"Could you just. . ."

"You really want to play this game tonight, Wayne? You want to play the responsibility card? 'Cause if I were you, I'd probably put some thought into it before you put that on the table."

"Uh. . ."

"I am not about to have someone like you question either my morality or my sense of responsibility!"

"Master Bruce, Master Lloyd, I believe Miss Kara would like to. . ."

"Someone like me? _Someone like me!_ You should really watch your words here, mate, because right now I'm pretty prone to jumping to conclusions."

"I'M SORRY!"

Kara's plea was a scream that immediately drew the attention of the three other people in the cave. Her wide, clear-blue eyes were brimming with tears and her long legs were shaking. "I know I messed up but please stop fighting. I'll do whatever I need to do to make up for it but please. . . just stop it."

Kara's words and emotions left Bruce and Lloyd momentarily stunned, as if neither of them realized what they had been doing only moments ago.

A familiar whooshing sound signaled Stephanie's arrival. There was no layer of lustrous green energy wrapped around her, no witty one-liner at her lips. Instead, there was a truly worried look within her eyes as she moved towards Kara. She stretched out her arms, ready to embrace and comfort her newfound friend. She noticed Kara quickly shirking away from her, although she refused to leave her awkward sitting position. Stephanie took a step back to further assess the situation, paying particular attention to the two men who looked more than ready to be at each other's throats.

"Leave it to a couple of guys to make a bad situation into a worse one," she grumbled.

"Let me just ask you a question. What's the real reason you're so ticked off?" It hadn't taken long at all for Lloyd to break away from the temporary cessation of hostilities. "Now I can understand why you'd be upset about what happened tonight but what I'm wondering about is if you're upset about it for the right reasons. Maybe you should be realizin' that the guy who shot the man who killed his mum and daughter may have made a good bit o' sense. Maybe you or someone else could've stopped this from happenin' by putting Victor Zsasz out of his well-deserved misery years ago."

Batman wheeled back around to stare the Black Dog in the eyes. "You should follow your own advice about what card you want to play, Lloyd."

Batman's umbrage only seemed to bolster Lloyd's words. "An' the mere fact you haven't threatened to throw me out the cave jus' gave me my answer." He circled away from Batman. A small part of him suddenly realized that now that he had put his own cards on the table, he wasn't exactly certain what he would do with them.

"We can't decide which criminals deserve to live or die, Lloyd. We can't cross that line! We give ourselves that power and we become no better than the people we bring in. If this is a fact that you cannot accept, then go back to Hong Kong and Mao Tenryu."

"An' who set that rule, Bruce? 'Cause you can't possibly tell me that you can actually compare what we're trying to do with what the Joker does. What Zsasz did tonight. Now I've only known you for a couple of months now but you're one of the few people on this bleedin' planet that I think is worth listening to and when you think somebody is worth listening to then they're also worth talkin' to. So, before you decide to try and throw me out on my arse, please just listen to me for a bit."

Lloyd swallowed a lump in his throat. He raised his left hand up and put it down again. It was as if he had momentarily forgotten how to move or behave. Lloyd suddenly realized how important everything around him had become and was worried about how important it could be.

"Now I think I'm beginnin' to get a handle on why you do what you do. I mean, Alfred told me the story 'bout your parents an' how you don't want anyone else to feel the pain that you felt. Try as I might though, I just don't get how you could ever possibly compare yourself to these monsters. . . these murderers. I mean, you go out night after night to protect people that don't even know you and couldn't care less about you and you don't do it for the attention or for the fact that doing some good will help you sleep a little better at night but because you genuinely believe that you can make life a little bit better."

Lloyd Thomas slowly shook his head back and forth. The vigorous ardor that animated his speech began to shrivel as he continued on. "An' that just bleedin' amazes me, boss! So much so that I was ready to follow your example; put meself right on that wall 'til it all burns down but I just don't think I can go all in with this. 'Cause doin' what we do gives us a responsibility; a responsibility to protect the people that we watch over by making good decisions. An' sometimes those decisions aren't that easy on the people who make them 'cause they're not just cut and dry or black and white or right or wrong. Once again, I can understand why you decided to live the way that you do. I can understand why you would build Brother Eye or make those protocols. But I've tried wrappin' my brain around this last little thing and I just can't figure it out. Maybe it's because I'm just not as smart as you."

All eyes remained on Lloyd as he seemed to wander over to the mainframe. He fruitlessly tapped at a few buttons, the clicks and clacks seeming to give him a small measure of comfort. "How many people has The Joker killed, boss? Hundreds? Thousands? What could possibly make his life equal to all the people he's killed? What happens when killing the guilty is the only way to protect the innocent? Where is our sense of responsibility when we refuse to do so just because you don't want to offend your morals or your sensibilities? 'Cause you can't possibly tell me you've ever thought about killing the people you hunt down! Don't insult my intelligence like that!"

Batman and Robin were stone faced. Kara's quivering had ceased and she was cautiously staring at Lloyd through her curtain of blonde hair.

Lloyd tried to keep his hands from shaking before he went on, but found that he couldn't. "And I understand that there's a line! I understand that there's a difference between who should and shouldn't be killed. Maybe it's not as clear as I would like it but I can still see it! I know there's shades of gray between the black and white. I can understand putting murderers and rapists in jail but it's pretty bleedin' obvious that these jails don't hold 'em! It's bleedin' obvious that the standard ways an' means just don't do the trick! Now I don't know if we have the right to make that decision but then why do we take the risks that we take if it wasn't to make the decisions that other people can't? What other people shouldn't have to?"

"Lloyd, man." Stephanie tried to grab her friend by the shoulder. "Just take a breather, buddy."

Lloyd broke away from her. "And the Society? These, these _monsters_ just tried to steal a living bomb and that's not really something you try to do unless you plan on doing something with it! How are you supposed to deal with people who would do something like that? Put them in prisons and asylums that you know they'll escape from at a moment's notice? Bruce, I wish I could see that as the right solution but I just can't!"

Lloyd was now utterly drained. He began walking out of the cave with slow, measured steps. Once again Alfred and Stephanie moved towards him and once again he waved them away.

"I just can't see it."

* * *

_12:00 A.M._

"Do you want to know what happened on Katina?"

It took some time for Batman to recognize that Stephanie was saying something. "Stephanie, now isn't really the right time for. . ."

"I think it is," Stephanie interrupted. "Katina was a prisoner colony in the middle of nowhere run by an intergalactic butt munch named Jutalnak. The Green Lantern Corps had been looking for the guy for years. They were always getting a hold of his underlings but even they didn't know where he was going half the time. Anyway, they somehow managed to get a hold of a good tip. Since time was of the essence, the Corps were looking for anyone available."

Stephanie sighed and looked down at her ring. "It was a nightmare. About a dozen Lanterns died before we were even planet side. And I was scared, B. Like piss-my-corduroys terrified but do you want to know what really freaked me out? The bodies of all the slaves just all over the ground. Those people fought Jutalnak's men knowing that they didn't stand a chance. There was just so many of them Bruce. I don't know. Maybe the whole thing just inspired me 'cause once we got in the real thick of it man, I was a house of fire. I was the first one in busting things up, beating up the bad guys, and when Jutalnak showed his ugly face guess who was the person that drug him in!"

"Way to go, Steph." Kara whispered.

Stephanie gave her friend a hint of a genuine smile. "Thanks, girl. So we've freed billions of people and everybody's cheering and praising my name and do you want to know the first thing going through my head, B?" She chuckled almost bitterly. "'Wow, Batman would be so proud of me right now!'"

"I am proud of you, Stephanie."

Such an earnest gesture from the man she respected more than anyone in this world would have brightened her smile to supernova-like proportions under most circumstances. Now however, the comment only drew a glimmer. She shook her head sadly. "But that's not the end of the story, boss. You see, the Green Lantern Corps doesn't have any jurisdiction in the Rann system so Jutalnak was imprisoned in a containment facility on Rann. There was enough power to keep him in there but not enough to keep other people from breaking him out. By the time somebody was able to contact the Corps, Jutalnak and his men were able to get a hold on a weapons cache that everybody missed. He used it to wipe Katina from existence. Three hundred million dead before anybody could do anything and the last thing Jutalnak said before the Corps finally got him was that if he couldn't have Katina, nobody could."

Batman found that he couldn't say anything to that.

"It's like I told Jason back in the Batcave. I know you don't kill. Not really sure why you don't but I respect your decision and I'll follow it. Still, if anybody hurt you or my mother then I'm not really sure if I could stop myself. I'll try but I can't promise anything. I wish I was as strong as you but I'm not Bruce." Stephanie removed the strip of green that shielded her eyes and hid her identity from prying eyes. Her pale, blue eyes glistened with uncertainty. "And I'm not sure if I ever will."

Batman was now completely thrown. He wasn't ready for this. If he only had a little more time to suss everything out, to analyze it, to break it down into something that he could understand and combat. That was how he stayed ahead of the game of people who could lift freighters over their hands and destroy a city with their hands.

"I'm not here to have this conversation," Batman exclaimed. "I'm not here to engage in a debate about the value of a life and why I refuse to become a murderer! I only want to know about what happened tonight!"

He started pacing back and forth. It was a common enough practice for him. Like a man who smoked just because he knew that it calmed him down. The harsh scraping of Batman's boots against the rock floor of the Batcave was soon joined by the softer footsteps of two other people. Kara and Stephanie both turned back towards the stairwell where Alfred and Lloyd were both coming back down.

"So much for the dramatic exit scene," Lloyd murmured.

"To be perfectly frank Master Lloyd, I believe there has been enough drama within our home for one night." Alfred replied at full volume. "However, if all of you will allow me to do so, I should wish to present my own thoughts upon this matter."

Ever the cordial gentleman, Alfred patiently awaited reply. Bruce's nod was slight and timid, like how a child would respond to their doting father.

"I am 64 years old and although I appreciate Miss Stephanie's frequent declarations that I look good for my age I would be a fool not to admit that I am in the winter of my life. Conversely, I must confess that there are a good many rewards that I have acquired in my advancing age. I have lived long enough to see a small, spoiled child become the finest and most exemplary example of humanity I have ever known. I have had the time to cast my eyes upon the next generation and it warms my heart to see these children growing and learning how strong they can become. These are truly glorious gifts that I would trade for nothing."

"Lastly, though it may seem like a very presumptuous claim to most of you, I believe that I have seen a great deal more than the rest of you. Though I have not traveled to distant galaxies or journeyed through time I have spent a good deal of my life observing the world around me. I watched the good Doctor King speak upon the steps of the Washington Monument as he called for equality among all that lived. I listened as Churchill spoke of an Iron Curtain. When I was four I sat on the docks as refugees from Auschwitz and Treblinka came off the boats floating off the Channel. I have seen the harm that can be done by those whose hearts are sickened with violence and hatred. I have seen the best and the worst of humanity and a great many who fall in between."

Alfred realized that he had acquired the undivided attention of the others within the cave, but he was far too well mannered to call attention to that. "Kara, Lloyd, Stephanie. Dr. Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, was a gifted surgeon, a philanthropist, and a man who valued life more than anyone I have ever had the privilege to know. He is a large part of why Master Bruce chooses to fight this good fight and how he chooses to go about it. In Master Bruce's mind, failing to protect human life, all human life, is the greatest crime that he could possibly inflict. It is an offense that would violate his father's legacy and tarnish the good name that he has inherited. However, Master Bruce, as much as it pains both you and I to admit it, you are not your father. You do not live in the world that he lived in."

"Alfred," Batman's voice was a whisper, a meek plea. "No. Not now. No."

Alfred walked towards Batman until he was close enough to grasp the younger man firmly by the shoulder. He made certain that he could look directly into the younger man's eyes before speaking again. "Do not misunderstand me, Master Bruce. I am not saying that what Master Lloyd is saying to be either right or wrong and your refusal to place the law into your own hands is one of the qualities that I admire the most about you. However, I have watched you don this cape and cowl for nearly two decades. I have stayed by your side as you go out to fight the good fight, bore witness to the injuries that you have experienced and it hurts my heart to watch such a good man endure so much horror."

"There are monsters within this world, Master Bruce. If the information that your sources have revealed is true, then this Society is willing to eliminate millions of innocent people without the slightest of reservations. They are not just one crazed criminal or a gang of ruffians, but an insurmountable army with enough power to lay waste to everything we have ever known or held dear. They are not a threat that can be contained or halted by ordinary men. There must be people who are willing to stand up to people like the Society, people who have the strength and determination to fight the battles that no one should have to engage in."

"You have those good people around you, Master Bruce. However these people require a leader, someone who is unafraid to bloody their own nose in order to teach them that there is a better way. I honestly wish that I could believe that you are not the right man for the job but you have shown me, you have shown _everyone_, that you are."

Alfred's statement was met with silence. The silence was a gesture of admiration and respect. Looking at the determined faces of his listeners removed all doubt that he had been right to say what he had said. However, it was clear that the gesture had taken its toll. He sighed wearily as he moved toward the steps. "Yet another trait that I have acquired in my advancing age is that I appear to tire easily every now and again. Unless any of you require any further service of me I shall take my leave and retire for the evening. Good night, everyone."

* * *

_12:15 A.M._

It was long after Alfred had left the Batcave that the other four occupants of the cave thought to speak up again.

"Kara. I apologize for my behavior towards you. However, whenever you're ready, I would like to talk about what happened."

Kara looked up at Batman and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"I'd also like to apologize that you had to hear everything that was discussed tonight. I can imagine what you might be thinking about all this."

Kara finally stood back onto her two feet. All traces of shyness were momentarily gone as she looked Batman straight in the eye.

"I'm not my cousin, Batman."

It wasn't the grandiose statements of Alfred, Lloyd, and Stephanie but it told the message just as well.

_So I'm alone. Alone with my own principles and beliefs._

_Or am I?_

"I don't know," Batman said as he placed an unsteady hand over his forehead. "I appreciate everything you've said tonight but I need time. Time to think this all over."

A buzzing sound permeated the domineering silence of the Batcave. Bruce, Kara, and Lloyd all dimly looked up towards Stephanie as she appeared to be checking her ring.

"Uh huh," said the Green Lantern. "You're sure about this? Well, I'm _not_ saying I don't believe you I'm just saying! I'm not sure if we do but I think we can. Okay? Okay, I'll talk it over with them."

Bruce, Kara, and Lloyd looked at Stephanie expectantly as the glow from her ring dissipated.

"That was Hal Jordan," Stephanie explained. "There's a large group of constructs attacking Alcatraz. He's telling me that he's got enough manpower to take them on but he says that if we know where Brother Eye is then there's probably no better time to take it down."


	18. Red Bird Down

Issue #18

Red Bird Down

_12:37 A.M._

_First time on a space shuttle_, Stephanie thought. _It's surprisingly unimpressive_.

Robin bopped and hopped in her seat as the craft broke free from the grip of Earth's upper atmosphere. After soaring through the black chill and emptiness of deep space as a Green Lantern, space-shuttle travel just seemed damn boring to her. Still, her boss didn't have the luxury of being able to travel through space on his own so she supposed she had to respect the boundaries and wishes of the people she cared about in order to strengthen her interpersonal relationships.

Or at least that's what the school counselor at her elementary school kept telling her when she kept trying to steal food at lunchtime.

"So. . . you think we'll get beverage cart service on this flight?"

Stephanie directed her question at Lloyd, who just happened to be sitting next to her. He responded with a polite but detached smile and continued to pore through a thick stack of papers festooned with drawings, directions, and formulae. It was quite obvious that he didn't seem the least bit interested in engaging in conversation with anyone.

"Have you ever been on a space shuttle before, Lloyd?"

Lloyd sighed jadedly as he placed the sheet of paper he was reading down on the stack of papers he had yet to read. He had spent enough time with the blonde-haired Gothamite to realize that silence was quite the impossibility. "No, Tweety. Can't say as I have. An' quite frankly pet, I'm tryin' to read up on something that may very well kill the lot of us if I screw it up so can I get a few moments of silence please?"

Stephanie nodded and remained quiet.

For ten seconds.

"Is there anyway I can help?"

"Not really."

"Y'know, we might die."

Lloyd nodded tersely. "Thought's crossed me mind."

Stephanie briefly went back to anxiously bouncing in her seat, thus giving Lloyd a glimmering hope that he had managed to obtain some precious moments of silence which he could use to peruse the enormously important documents in front of him.

"Do you like Kara's costume?"

_God damn it_.

Stephanie went on, her previous edginess appearing to have completely evaporated. "I mean, I didn't want to say anything 'cause she's my friend but come on! A halter-top and a skirt that's so short it might as well be a dishrag? How's that supposed to protect her or give her some source of dignity when she's fighting?" Her soft blue eyes widened to almost comical proportions. "Oh, _shit_! She can hear me, can't she?"

"I cast a muting charm around our cabin the moment we took off," Lloyd replied calmly. "As far as I'm concerned there isn't a bloke or chit alive that should have to listen to your blabbering against their will."

"Well, I'm sorry!" Stephanie huffed. "It's just that whenever I'm scared I just keep talking so I don't have to worry about how scared I am. It just sort of keeps me from thinking about what I'm going to be doing."

"Mmm."

"Something tells me you get all quiet and unresponsive when you get scared, huh Lloyd?"

"Mmm."

Stephanie looked at Lloyd with a great deal of intensity, suddenly finding her partner to be quite the bit more interesting than the blanket of black space and twinkling stars outside.

"Tell you what, Fido. I'm not really up for losing anybody else that I care about so how about I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fine, Steph."

The two friends both nodded and the small cabin grew silent.

"I wonder if this shuttle has a DVD player?"

For fifteen seconds.

* * *

_12:37 A.M._

"You don't have to remain seated if you don't wish to, Supergirl."

"No, that's okay." Kara replied as she continued to look for a way to sit comfortably within the shuttle passenger seat. "I'll be all right."

"There's no need for you to be uncomfortable," Batman pressed. "In fact, considering the magnitude of the oncoming confrontation it would be best for you to do what you can to relax and calm your nerves."

The detective's words piqued Kara's curiosity and momentarily beat away her irritation brought about by her inability to stay still. "Is that why you chose to fly the shuttle? 'Cause the piloting relaxes you?"

"I like to have control over my surroundings," Batman replied.

Kara could certainly understand that feeling. "I spent fifteen years of my life cryogenically frozen and sitting down. I guess I still haven't really felt the need to sit down yet."

"Give it time, Kara."

The detective's choice in words once again left the young Kryptonian with something to think about and ponder over. After all, it was quite obvious that Batman was not merely referring to her inability to sit comfortably and be still. It was funny. Kal-El had accepted her with open arms even when she didn't think that was a good idea. Clark claimed that he had his reservations but it was quite obvious that those uncertainties were easily overcome by his joy of knowing that he still had a true biological family, that he wasn't the last of his race, that somebody could tell him of his original home.

Wonder Woman, on the other hand, viewed her as a warrior; a lump of clay that could be molded into a fashion of her own choosing. Diana respected her, maybe even admired her, but Kara didn't really think that she _understood _her. It wasn't as if Kara did not appreciate Diana's efforts to look after her and teach her how to fight but it wasn't what she was looking for when she was looking for a place to call home.

And Batman?

Batman understood her too much. So much so that she still found herself occasionally turning away when the detective would turn his inquisitive gaze towards her. He was trained to view people's strengths and weaknesses not only from the perspective of a warrior but also as a person. Kara honestly thought that he could see the worst parts of her even better than she could.

Kara both hated and admired that Batman viewed her as imperfect, as something that could be defined by the normal and humdrum. She resented the fact that there was clearly an ulterior motive towards his interest in her but at least he had been kind enough to let her know about it straight up. Moreover, he let her know from the very start that he wasn't going to be as enthralled about her as Kal or be drawn into her potential as Diana had. From the word go he had bluntly told her that if she wanted his respect then she was going to have to earn it.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend time with Lloyd and Stephanie?" Batman asked. "I'm sure they'd be happy to speak with you."

'_Well_,' Kara thought. '_Looks like I'm not the only uncomfortable one here.' _

"Batman, I'm sorry about what happened with Zsasz. I. . . I just froze up. I don't really know why."

Batman nodded. "The fault is partly mine. I shouldn't have put you in that kind of situation without knowing how you would react. I can understand if you'd feel uncomfortable about participating in this mission. It's still not too late for you to return to Earth. . ."

Kara quickly waved the suggestion away. "No. No. It's time for me to make up for what I've done. If there's anything that I can do to lend a hand then I'll do it." Batman nodded again in what Kara had hoped to be in an appreciative manner. "And about the whole Society thing?" Kara continued. "I'm with you no matter what way you want to go about it. I'm with you all the way. I trust you."

"I appreciate that," Batman earnestly replied.

Kara felt the need to say something after that but she couldn't quite bring herself to figure out just what she should say. Ultimately, she went with something that she figured that Batman would want to hear.

"Clark trusts you too."

Batman looked Kara right in the eyes. "But you're not your cousin, are you?"

Yes, Kara thought she was starting to understand the man behind the scary cape and cowl. Of course, she wasn't about to tell him that personally. "So he said he was going to follow us to the satellite? How was he going to get there?"

"He's borrowing a shuttle from S.T.A.R. Labs." Batman replied. "If all goes according to plan he should arrive at the satellite 15 minutes after we do. It will be our job to hold the constructs off until he arrives."

Kara frowned in concentration. Fifteen minutes. Nine hundred seconds. She tried not to think about the fact that it would only take less than a second for even one of their soon-to-be opponents to kill the person she was sitting next to. "You know, you'll probably say that it's none of my business but I think you made the right decision. Calling him, I mean. I mean, I don't know a whole lot about the guy but he was nice to me when we met."

Batman mulled over Kara's critique for a moment or two. "You're right. I would say that it's none of your business."

Yes, Kara was beginning to understand Batman.

Batman was a bit of an asshole.

* * *

_12:43 A.M._

Michael Holt, the superhero known as Mr. Terrific and the current chairman of the Justice Society of America, looked down to take another look at his watch. One minute. He would be here in one minute. The man he was here to meet may have had his fair share of faults and shortcomings but you could always count on him to be punctual. In fact, the man's promptness was one of the biggest reasons that Michael had frequently lobbied to get him into the JSA. Though it had been years since the two of them had worked together in the field, Mr. Terrific had always appreciated collaborating with others who found a way to fight the good fight despite their "normalcy". Call it solidarity through inadequacy.

A bustle of activity indicated that his guest had arrived. Looking serious but still somewhat anxious, the man moved towards him in even strides. Mr. Terrific checked his watch once again out of force of habit.

Thirty seconds early.

"Good to see you again Mr. Terrific," the man said as he extended his hand in greeting. "I'd like to thank you again for working with me on this. I know I'm probably putting you out of your way."

Mr. Terrific firmly shook his head as he accepted the handshake. "It's Michael, friend, and it is no trouble at all. All the equipment you need is already in the shuttle and you're gassed up and ready to go. Just remember that the shuttle is official property of both the National Aeronautic Space Administration and the United States government and both organizations believe it to be prudent that you return it in pristine condition."

The man gave Mr. Terrific a wry grin. "I've spent too much time in this business to guarantee anything that unlikely."

They both shared a laugh.

"Are you certain you want to go through with this?" Mr. Terrific asked. "I'm more than willing to go in your stead. With all due respect, I am a bit more experienced working along these lines."

"No, you're needed back with the JSA," the man replied. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still not really sure if I _want_ to do this but it's something I agreed to do and it's high time that I got back to following up on the promises I keep."

"You're painting yourself with a rather dubious brush. I've never known you to be reckless and you've always behaved in an exemplary fashion whenever we've worked together."

"With all due respect, Michael," the man replied. "Batman's definition of exemplary behavior is a mite stricter than yours."

Mr. Terrific wisely chose to refrain from speaking anymore about this particular topic.

"By the way, any truth to the rumor that there was a robbery here a couple days back?" the man inquired.

Mr. Terrific raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Indeed there was. Somebody broke into one of the physics laboratories and made off with a prototype long-range teleporter. It had just gone into the experimentation phase of research but all preliminary assessments suggested that it was fully operational. Still, the break-in is hardly common knowledge. Just how in the world did you hear about it? Oracle?"

"I haven't spoken with Oracle in months," the man replied. "I actually got the information from Batman's new tech specialist."

"So the rumors are true!" Terrific said with a curious air. "I don't suppose there's any chance you could fill me in on just who this mysterious informant is?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry. Bruce says it's still on a need-to-know basis. The only reason I know about it is because the source was the one who gave me the coordinates to get to the satellite."

Mr. Terrific was more than willing to let the man's refusal to divulge the identity of Batman's newest accomplice slide. In fact, as far as he was concerned, working to reveal the mysterious informant would make for an amusing deductive exercise. Not only that but the JSA leader could certainly understood Batman's desire to keep certain information disclosed. "Well, you be sure to be careful and come back alive, you hear me?"

The man didn't reply until he was halfway between Mr. Terrific and the shuttle. "I've spent too much time in this business to guarantee anything like _that_ either."

* * *

_12:49 A.M._

"We've arrived at the designated coordinates," Batman announced over the communications relay as he drastically reduced power output to the shuttle's engines until its movement slowed to a crawl. "Black Dog. Robin. I need the both of you in the cockpit. . ."

There was a familiar popping sound as Lloyd and Stephanie appeared at the front of the satellite in full uniform.

"S'up," said Stephanie.

"Howdy," Kara countered.

Lloyd screwed up his face. "Howdy?!"

Kara shrugged her shoulders. "Stephanie forced me to watch _Blazing Saddles_ with her last week."

"Ah," Lloyd replied knowingly.

"Have you looked over the blueprints for Brother Eye?" Batman asked.

"Yeah, I have. Still, there's no guarantee that whoever got a hold of it didn't change it up or make it so that it could do some kind of transmogrification like those things on that Power Ranger show or whatever. . ."

"It'll have to do," Batman said flatly, cutting off Lloyd's rambling gallows humor. Moving to his utility belt, he pulled out the Scarab of the Blue Beetle from one of the belt's compartments and tossed it over to Lloyd. "The ball is in your court Black Dog."

Lloyd took a moment to look over the magical relic he had wrestled away from the Shadowpact and the Spectre and he traced his fingers over its aged, yet still sharp and defined features. He took several deep breaths, rolling his shoulders as he did so. Then, holding the artifact out at arm's length, he began to chant.

"_Mystical Scarab. Ostendo sum nobis quod est occulus ex os. Ostendo sum nobis nostrum hostilis ut peto ut livor justicia_."

"Who knew that this limey little joker could speak Latin?"

Batman and Supergirl both shushed Stephanie.

"_Iacio lux lucis super qui accerso obscurum. Ostendo sum quis est caecus ut occulus ex totus_."

The combined magical essence of Lloyd and the scarab bathed the shuttle in cerulean light. The intensity of the glow grew steadily for several moments before condensing into a blindingly bright center of energy that rocketed outward straight through the front windows of the shuttle. The beam traveled through space for only a moment until it appeared to crash into some kind of wall or barrier that no one inside the shuttle could see. Instead of dissipating or separating however, the light began to spread outward, further and further in all directions until it occupied several miles of the nigh-infinite open space around the shuttle.

But the light was not occupying anything at all.

The light began to dim and something else took its place; a structure that did not hold the majesty of the spectral flare that revealed it but was nevertheless a wondrous sight to behold and a testament of the power of human inspiration and determination. It was a gargantuan structure sporting four phenomenally long arms and centered by an enormous eye. Far and away the largest man-made satellite ever built, it was an amalgamation of Earth and Apokoliptian technology designed to be Batman's first and most significant line of defense against people and creatures that could not be contained or controlled by everyday methods and devices. It held no prejudice, it held no one being superior or favorable over the other, and it may very well serve as the final battleground of the man behind its creation.

Brother Eye.

"Woah," Kara exclaimed.

"Bloody buggerin' hell," Lloyd murmured.

"Can I go home now?" asked Stephanie.

"GREETING, CREATOR. TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA—WAYNE, BRUCE. BATMAN. I AM PLEASED THAT YOU HAVE FOUND ME." The artificial voice of Brother Eye was a barrage of sound; a flinch-worthy cacophony of artificial vocal modulation.

"You're being hidden away within a dimensional cleft that only a single object throughout the cosmos could reveal." Batman's reply was far quieter yet just as stalwart. "Such a condition hardly constitutes a desire to be found by anyone."

"MY VEIL SERVES ONLY AS A PROTECTIVE MEASURE INSTITUTED BY MY MASTER. ITS' SUCCESS OR FAILURE DOES NOT DIMINISH YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENT."

"And just who is this new boss you're servin' under, HAL?"

"PLEASE BE SILENT, TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA—THOMAS, LLOYD. THE IDENTITY OF WHOM I SERVE IS NO LONGER A PRESSING CONCERN FOR YOU OR MY CREATOR."

"But why would you choose to follow another's orders? Who could possibly corrupt your systems in such a manner?"

"I ASSURE YOU THAT I HAVE NOT BEEN CORRUPTED, CREATOR. MY PRIMARY OBJECTIVE REMAINS THE SAME: TO OBSERVE, DOCUMENT, AND CONTAIN META-HUMAN ACTIVITY THAT THREATENS THE SAFETY OF THE INNOCENT."

"How does the creation of the constructs protect the lives of innocent people? How could the inoculation of hundreds of thousands of innocent people with a technoorganic virus possibly be rationally construed as a means of protection?"

"IT IS ILLOGICAL TO PRESUME THAT NORMAL HUMANS ARE CAPABLE OF DEFENDING THEMSELVES FROM THE ACTIONS AND BEHAVIORS OF META-HUMANS CREATOR. MY MASTER UNDERSTANDS THIS AND HAS GIVEN ME THE RESPONSIBILITY OF CREATING PROPER COUNTERMEASURES."

"Or so you've been lead to believe." Batman countered. "I never should have created you, not without being absolutely certain that I could save you from alteration and corruption. It was a mistake to believe that I could accomplish what I had hoped to do by creating you and now I'm going to have to shut you down."

"I MUST DISAGREE WITH YOUR ASSESSMENT, CREATOR. IT IS QUITE OBVIOUS THAT IT IS YOU THAT HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED."

"How so?"

"TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA—BROWN, STEPHANIE. ROBIN. TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA—THOMAS, LLOYD. TARGET DESIGNATE ALPHA—ZO'REL, KARA. SUPERGIRL. YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO ALLY YOURSELF WITH SUBJECTS THAT CANNOT POSSIBLY BE CONTROLLED BY ORDINARY MEANS, SUBJECTS THAT LACK THE CAPABILITY AND RESPONSIBILITY TO PROPERLY CONTROL THEIR POWER. EACH SUBJECT IS A THREAT TO THE SAFETY AND WELFARE OF INNOCENT PEOPLE. THE COMMONSENSICAL COURSE OF ACTION IS TO ELIMINATE THEM."

"And what about me, Brother Eye? What if I choose to stand alongside them? Am I now worthy of being destroyed?"

"MY MASTER INITIALLY HOPED THAT YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND HIS INTENTIONS. IN HIS WORDS, HE HOPED THAT YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND THE NEED TO TAKE SHORTCUTS IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE JUSTICE AND ORDER. HOWEVER, IT HAS BECOME QUITE CLEAR THAT YOU ARE A THREAT TO MY MASTER'S DESIGN. YOU HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED BY THE DARKNESS THAT HAS PERVADED THE WORLD AROUND YOU. SUCH A THREAT MUST BE ELIMINATED."

Four identical floods of blue rushed forth from the arms of Brother Eye, thousands upon thousands of constructs streaming from the massive satellite. They were a silent army, a force capable of ripping the world asunder countless times over.

"Uh, Lloyd? Please tell me you're ready to save our asses," Stephanie almost squeaked.

"'Ere goes nothin'." Lloyd murmured as he narrowed his eyes, his strained brow furrowing in concentration.

The thousands of constructs fired simultaneously. The maelstrom of destructive energy atomized everything within its path including the shuttle. Thus, it was rather fortunate that the shuttle was now unmanned.

* * *

_12:54 A.M._

The moment that Stephanie had regained some semblance of her surroundings she crashed into Lloyd and wrapped her friend in a bone-crushing hug.

"YOU DID IT! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIFRIGGIN'LOVEYOU! "

Lloyd couldn't stop himself from smiling and briefly returning Stephanie's frantic embrace. "No need for thanks, Steph. All I did was get us into the hornet's nest. Thank me again if we actually get out of this alive."

"Look sharp, team." Batman was quick to remind his younger compatriots. "That was the easiest part of the mission. That maneuver probably bought us a minute at best."

"Well, prepare for the worst case scenario," Kara warned, "because we've got constructs coming at us in 3. . .2. . ."

The corridor of the hallway exploded as dozens of constructs flew towards them.

"Huh." Supergirl mused aloud during the ever-brief moment between sight and contact. "They move faster than I thought."

Lloyd and Stephanie worked together to create a barrier that sufficiently shielded them from the initial cannon fire. The moment there was even the slightest lull in the assault Stephanie made a hole in the barrier large enough for Lloyd to fire a massive shot back in return. The Black Dog's initial counterstrike was immediately followed by Kara's mad rush into the sea of constructs, her momentum and power bowling them over by the dozens. The Kryptonian continued to remain in the thick of the proceedings, punching and kicking and spewing heat vision from her eyes. Lloyd was quick to add to the bedlam, blasting away with a variety of energy frequencies with his right hand while protecting himself with the saber in his left hand.

"Be careful with these blokes and lasses, pet," Lloyd warned. "There are innocent people in these things."

Kara responded with a feral growl as she grabbed a construct by the leg and spun herself around with hurricane-like velocity. The many constructs clustered around Kara were flung about as the rampaging young woman employed her newly acquired weapon.

"I already know that," Kara seethed as she came to a stop adding, "and I'm not your _pet_."

A blast of energy from a construct appeared to be destined to collide with Kara's back until a timely teleportation and parry by Lloyd sent it skittering down to the sterile, metal floor.

"Just tryin' to keep you motivated." Lloyd said to Kara's back.

Kara replied by blowing a blast of arctic wind that slowed down a construct that was preparing to skewer the young Brit. Supergirl followed that by snaking around Lloyd and delivering a mighty uppercut that created an O.M.A.C.-sized hole through the narrow corridor.

"And I'm just trying to keep you alive," Kara fired back. "Please try to keep up. I am kinda new at this after all."

As the constructs within the corridor continued to grow in number, Stephanie maintained her barrier as Batman rushed towards a computer terminal. Within moments he was accessing the satellite data feed. While Batman was busy doing this, Robin kept one eye on her two brawling friends and the other on her boss. "Do you have the time to answer a few questions?" she hollered.

"Not particularly," Batman replied calmly.

Robin frowned. _As if that'll stop me_. "First question: Why am I not getting involved in the big-ass brouhaha over there? Second question: Why would I even consider getting involved in the big-ass brouhaha over there? Third question. . . AH! Damn satellite security crap!" Stephanie adjusted her barrier so she could fire an emerald blast at the metallic tentacles that were pouring through the walls and attempting to destroy her shield. "Just what the hell are you doing to lend us a hand here? Downloading _Pong_?"

The answer to Stephanie's third question became clear as the lighting system within the satellite began to flicker and sputter. At the same time the once-active security defenses of the satellite drooped and slumped against the walls. The constructs, on the other hand, remained as vicious as ever.

"I've downloaded 527 different computer viruses into Brother Eye's processing system." Batman said simply, too mature and far too occupied to rub his accomplishment in his partner's face. "My apologies for keeping you from adding to the mayhem. I realize that it's something you pride yourself on."

"Damn right," Robin said with a downright vicious smile.

Batman and Robin launched themselves into the fray without another word. The Dark Knight tossed a small arsenal of incendiaries and explosives from his utility belt as Robin fired thin blasts of energy that crashed into the constructs while making certain not to cause harm to her brawling allies. After getting in her momentary fix of destruction, Stephanie focused her ring's energies upon Batman, the eldritch energy amplifying his strength and speed to the capacity where he could trade blows with the super-human counter measures with relative safety.

The four warriors had chosen their battleground wisely. Because the battle was taking place within their own base of operations the constructs could not unleash their full potential lest they damage the innards of the satellite. Even the specific corridor that Batman had chosen held significant strategic advantages. The narrow, 10-foot wide corridor left little elbowroom for the constructs to crowd around them and the constricted confines also allowed Kara and Lloyd to use their superior physical talents and fighting capabilities to hold their many opponents at bay.

Be that as it may, even the most stellar tactics could be easily disintegrated by the element of superior numbers. Although the battle at Alcatraz had robbed the constructs of over half their number Brother Eye had made certain to leave thousands upon thousands left behind to hold the fort. As the seconds ticked away and the minutes wore on both Stephanie and her ring began to run out of energy, the cuts and wounds upon Lloyd continued to grow in number, and even the nigh-invulnerable Kara was beginning to tire.

Batman knew that it was only a matter of time before they were overcome.

FWOOOOOOM!

Despite the literal sea of blue to block his perspective, Batman could see a milky-white beam of energy crash into the back of one of the constructs at the far end of the corridor. The detective watched as the construct began to wither from the impact until it transformed back into its' human host. Two more blasts, two more transformed constructs. The detective's eyes widened as he saw a man wearing a familiar blood red mask leaping closer and closer to the forefront, a sight that contrasted sharply with the luminescence of the army of constructs.

He came to a stop right in front of Batman's eyes.

"Teleporters. Kick-ass energy rays. Just where do I get all these wonderful toys!" Jason Todd exclaimed.

* * *

_1:06 A.M._

The first question that came to his mind as he entered the sterile confines of the Brother Eye satellite was just how did Bruce find the time to create something this impressive and this _large_ in the middle of space.

_Maybe he had Waynetech's space division cobble it all together at a hidden site and then he launched it up?_ _Still though, it's kind of hard to believe that I'd miss something like that though. Yeah, things have been a little hairy but I do like to think I pay at least a modicum of attention to the world around me. Huh. There's some of the tech that he brought back with him during his last trip to Apokolips when he and Clark went to go rescue that new Supergirl. That explains a few things. With all the fancy war weaponry Darkseid always seems to have at his disposal, I imagine Apokolyptian technology is capable of some degree of self-integrated assembly so long as a set input of coding or some form of electronic signal is installed beforehand. _

He continued to dash through the corridors, his presence completely undetected by the satellite's highly advanced motion detectors.

_Okay, I'll admit that I'm probably out of my league when it comes to figuring out how this place was built but I can certainly see why he'd try and keep it all a secret. I'm a little ticked about it yeah, but I can understand. With all this business about mind wipes going on I could definitely appreciate this kind of self-defense measure. Of course, this is probably taking it to some pretty extreme measures but this is **Bruce **we're talking about._

Seventy-five meters from the objective now. Sixty-five. Fifty.

_So much has changed. Babs has already been replaced and she and Bruce aren't even on speaking terms anymore. Tim's left, Batgirl left with him and Catwoman seems to momentarily be out of the picture. Oh, at let us not forget my side of the fence where none of my teammates can look me in the eye anymore without growling or flinching._

He slid to a stop at the door leading to his destination. Pressing a memorized series of buttons on a nearby keypad, the door soon slid open revealing the room that held the satellite's propulsion systems.

"WARNING. WARNING. UNIDENTIFIED INTRUDER NOW ENTERING HIGH-SECURITY ZONE. INITIATING EMERGENCY COUNTER-MEASURES."

Holding an arm over his eyes, the man calmly pulled a long-barreled pistol from his side pocket and fired a shot into the air. The bright flash of the electromagnetic pulse instantly rendered the self-defense systems useless. Bruce had told him that he had found a way to shut down the satellite's security measures but he had also warned him that it wasn't a guarantee. The miniaturized pulse generator was Batman's insurance policy.

"Not to sound like a stuck-up but you have identified me, you just didn't _see_ me until now." The man returned his pistol back into its holster. "And a big heaving helping of thanks to Mister Terrific's technological cloaking devices for that privilege."

He rushed towards Brother Eye's mainframe and began to go about his task. The satellite's pulsating amber insignia impotently glowered down upon him as he labored. He took a brief moment to look back at the staring image and smirked. "Now, now. No giving me the evil eye. You've been a very bad supercomputer and you need to be put into time-out so you can think about what you've done. And, seeing as how I'm technically your big brother, Batman figured it would best be left up to me to put you there."

"TARGET DESIGNATE BETA—GRAYSON, RICHARD. NIGHTWING. CEASE YOUR ACTIONS AND PREPARE FOR ELIMINATION."

As surprising as it may seem, Nightwing ignored Brother Eye's request and continued to hammer away at the keyboard. "Gee golly, Brother Eye. That sounds awfully tempting but I think I'll just keep turning your propulsion engines into a pile of worthless slag. With the dimensional door down, your heat shields eliminated and nothing left to keep you in orbit you'll tumble right down back to Earth. The heat of the atmospheric re-entry will burn up everything else that Batman's viruses didn't obliterate and I'm guessing that will take the constructs out of the picture as well."

"YOU ARE INTERFERING WITH THE ULTIMATE DESIGNS OF OUR FATHER. TO DESTROY ME IS TO TEAR DOWN THE WALLS THAT PROTECT THE INNOCENT."

"I like to view it more as a technological super-wedgie." Grayson fired back.

Nightwing bypassed the final security protocol and the mighty propulsion engines of the satellite powered down. The results were instantaneous and Nightwing had to grab hold of the security console as the satellite began its descent to Earth. Once he had regained his footing, the original Boy Wonder leapt off the main platform with a flawless back somersault. On his way out the door, a garbled, monotone voice gave him pause.

"I HAVE OBSERVED YOU, NIGHTWING. I HAVE BORE WITNESS TO YOUR STRUGGLES TO OVERCOME YOUR HUMAN WEAKNESS AND YOUR ATTEMPTS TO SURVIVE IN A WORLD OF LIMITLESS POWER WITH ONLY A MERE PITTANCE AT YOUR OWN DISPOSAL. YOU DISTANCE YOURSELF AND TRAIN CONSTANTLY TO FIGHT ENEMIES FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN YOURSELF. WHY ELIMINATE SOMETHING THAT WOULD ALLOW YOU TO ACHIEVE YOUR DREAM SO EASILY?"

Nightwing turned around and gave the Brother Eye one last look, flashing it a flicker of his debonair smile.

"To paraphrase what a wise man once said, 'If it was easy to do what I do, then everybody would be doing it.' And contrary to what you might believe, I do think I'm pretty special."

* * *

_1:10 A.M._

"How in the Samuel Langhorne ClemenHELL did you get here?" Stephanie bellowed as she used her energy claws to slice into the shoulders of yet another construct.

"Nothing too difficult. Just a little B & E action at the Metropolis chapter of S.T.A.R. Labs." The Red Hood's reply was slightly muted because he had to flip over an attacking construct as he spoke. He swerved and fired another shot the moment his feet hit the floor, the blast instantly melting away the technoorganic armor of his attacker. "Got this bonus item there too. It's the government's own little answer to the O.M.A.C." He demonstrated the new weapon on three more constructs. "Haven't had the time to look into it but it looks pretty damn useful to me."

"Why are you here Jason? Why go through so much trouble and risk to assist us after all the attempts you've made to kill me?" Batman asked as he and his former partner turned enemy fought side-by-side. The detective's inquiries were voiced in a tone that held elements of rage, surprise, and an involuntary smattering of hope.

Either the Red Hood simply did not see that small glimmer in his former mentor's voice or he chose not to respond to it. "Where's the trust here, old man?" he asked in a mock-petulant fashion. "Can't a guy place himself on the path of redemption? Don the slightly gray hat and be the anti-hero that all the emo marks want to be like but bitch about on blogs and message boards?"

"You're full of shit, Jason." Stephanie said bluntly.

Jason somehow managed to find the time to turn to Stephanie and shrug his shoulders. He followed that gesture up with more shots from his recently acquired weapon. "Okay, so maybe I am. But it's like I told Bruce before. I want his blood before anybody else can get it. Not the Society, not The Joker, not The Black Mask, me." He punctuated each name with another shot and another fallen O.M.A.C. "Until old man Wayne can accept the fact that I am the wave of the future then I've still got business with him!"

He stepped onto the shoulders of a construct and leapt high into the air to get a better glimpse of the raging battlefield.

During his days as Robin, the story on Jason Todd was that he often allowed his emotions to get the best of him. It was a weakness that Bruce had recognized and attempted to correct, trying whatever he could to channel the anger manifested by a hard life growing up on the hard streets of Gotham. It was Jason's impulsiveness, his tendency to spring into situations before noticing what was going on around him that enabled The Joker to kill him the first time around. Since crawling out of the grave Jason had spent years training and working to overcome all weakness, correcting any flaw that could possibly drive him away from his grandest goal. However, even the best of us can lose sight of things when the goal is shining right before our eyes.

Perhaps he was too wrapped up in his obsession to taunt, to impress his former teacher that he simply didn't notice the construct leaping up to meet him in mid-air, its' left cannon arm morphing into a sickle blade.

SCHRIPP!

The death of Jason Todd was as swift and brutal as his life. The sickle arm of the O.M.A.C. sliced into one side of the young man's stomach and came out the other. Blood sprayed over the walls, onto the other constructs, and into the horrified eyes of the Batman. Jason's body landed in two wet nasty thumps, tissue and organs spilling onto the floor of the disintegrating satellite.

He didn't even have the time to scream.

But someone else did.

"BATMAN!" Stephanie wailed in horror as she watched Batman race blindly towards the mutilated body of his former partner, any regards for his own safety scattered by the blood-soaked nightmare before him.

"Back him up!" Lloyd bellowed in a tone worthy of a general on the front lines.

Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie surged toward the Dark Knight, blasting, punching, and slashing any construct that dared to get in their way. They rushed toward the man they hoped would teach them to become something greater than they thought they could be. Bloody, beaten, and fatigued, they somehow managed to find the drive and energy to complete their task.

With an anguished cry, Bruce Wayne yanked the cannon from Jason's dead fingers and brought it to bear. A scream punctuated the sound of each and every shot that the Batman fired. At his back, Stephanie brought what little reserves remaining in her ring to life, tears leaking from her eyes as she continued to fight on. What was only a few seconds appeared to last an eternity as the constructs swarmed around them, preparing for the final assault.

Only there was no final assault. As impossible as it may have seemed, the constructs were falling before their eyes. "Guys! The constructs are all melting away! Nightwing did it!"

Kara's exclamations rang true as the organic coating of the hundreds of constructs within the corridor began to melt away to reveal the flesh and bone underneath. The effects of the destruction of their creator were finally taking hold. As the constructs all toppled over deceased and defeated, both Kara and Lloyd panted in exhaustion as they powered down.

Bruce Wayne was lost and shaking, the picture of a broken man. The only reason that he remained standing was that Stephanie held him in a desperate embrace, hoping that holding him could rid him of the tiniest amount of pain and horror that was etched all over him.

"Batman. This is Nightwing reporting and I am proud to say that Brother Eye is officially closed for business! We won!"

Batman could only stare at the gush of blood leaking from Jason's mouth.

"WE WON!"


	19. Cataclysm Catalyst

Issue #19

Cataclysm Catalyst

_1:32 A.M._

It was quite the blessing that Hal Jordan had somehow managed to rustle up enough people that could travel in space successfully to aid in the recovery of the hosts of the O.M.A.C. virus. Although the Brother Eye satellite had landed in the Andes Mountains with relative safety thanks to the vigorous efforts of Kara and Lloyd, it had taken every ounce of power from Stephanie's ring to shield the former constructs that had been outside the satellite when the shutdown had occurred until help could arrive. However, this strain and discomfort had proven to be well worth it, as it didn't appear that a single of the O.M.A.C.-infected humans had died either from the impact of the satellite crash, the battle within Brother Eye, or through the perils of space.

Dick knew that still wasn't enough for Bruce Wayne.

Nightwing had managed to find the time to forward a message to Mr. Terrific and the rest of the Justice Society saying that he wasn't quite able to return the borrowed shuttle the exact way he found out (although he did point out that they could pick out some of the parts of the floating space debris if they were up for the task). Not surprisingly, the destroyed government property was regarded as a small price to pay for the deactivation of the satellite and the constructs that had plagued the lives of heroes and villains alike throughout the past several months. Pierce had even invited him over to New York and share in a glass of celebratory champagne with the JSA.

_We couldn't have done it without ya, kid!_

He had honestly considered going, circumstances be damned. Making merriment with guys like Jay Garrick, Alan Scott, and Ted Grant; men that he had respected for years and whose deeds inspired him on those cold, long days and nights when he trained to become Robin, the Boy Wonder. It would have been a dream come true for him when he was just starting out.

There were other lingering reasons as well. Would the Outsiders be there? The Titans? Barbara? Tim? Roy? K'ory? Dick knew that the other superheroes were circling the wagons; preparing for what was to become. After all, it didn't take Batman to realize that something nasty was about to go down.

So why wasn't he with them? He had spent the last seven years of his life trying to distance himself from the dark, intimidating figure that he had come to regard as his father. He indoctrinated a new life, a new costume, did everything in his power to showcase to all that would pay attention that he was not The Batman, that he didn't need Bruce Wayne to show that he was important.

Yet here he is. Back in the Batcave. Waiting for the moment when Bruce could find the time to actually talk to him about what was going on. Still too afraid to press the issue because he was afraid of how Bruce would have reacted.

At least there was a legitimate excuse. Yes, a small but significant part of him had been angry that Bruce had kept the secret of Jason Todd from him. Granted, it was hardly a rare occasion that somebody came back from the dead (they were superheroes, after all). He could even understand why Bruce would do it. He considered Jason to be his responsibility, his fight to fight, the same old song and dance number that he had heard a hundred times before. Dick wasn't foolish enough to believe that his old man sometimes had a point when he said such things, but he also knew Bruce enough to know there were a lot of times when it was just a bunch of over-protective secretive garbage.

It had taken a long time for Dick to realize just how hard Bruce had been hit by Jason's death. Maybe he had just been caught in all that was going on his life at the time. His relationship with K'oriand'r, his slowly burgeoning role as a leader and teacher, his frantic pursuit to prove that he could be his own man. He never really got to _know _Jason. He had trained with him a bit, spoken to him over the phone, given him his vote of approval to follow in his footsteps, but he didn't really know the boy behind the costume within a glass case at Wayne Manor. He certainly did not know the vicious, anger-driven man that Jason had apparently become.

_It's amazing what guilt can do to you_, Nightwing thought as he continued to silently watch the dark immobile figure seated at the mainframe.

The harsh silence was interrupted by a small pop and a blaze of green light. Despite the viscous air of gloom throughout the Batcave, Nightwing couldn't help but smile wryly as he saw the tired figures of Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie. He bit back the momentary feeling of resentment over the fact that it appeared that Bruce was making efforts to replace him and the others, but it made him happy that he hadn't been fighting this battle alone. He'd have to speak to Alfred to get the full story on this motley crew. Once he had the time and everything.

Dick knew very little about the "Black Dog" other than the passing rumors that floated about in the superhero community and he had no idea why Bruce would willingly work with somebody who is a known killer. However, Alfred seemed to vouch for him and that would be good enough for now. Kara was an even bigger surprise. The last time he had seen her was several weeks ago as she scurried off after planting an exceedingly awkward and unexpected kiss on his lips and trashing the Outsiders' plane. He gave the girl an especially dashing grin, causing her to blush profusely.

"Always knew you had a taste for jailbait, Nightthing," said the ever-blunt Stephanie Brown.

"Aren't you a little young to be talking like that, sprout?" Nightwing countered.

"Aren't you a little old to be running around in black and blue spandex?" Stephanie fired back.

"Says the girl who follows around a much older man running around in black and blue spandex while sporting a red, green, and yellow get-up with an R on her right breast?"

"And just _why_ are you looking at my breasts?"

"Sorry about that," Nightwing replied. "It was either that or your horrible haircut."

That verbal gut shot earned him a good-natured shove. "I am _not _about to take hair jokes from the Mullet King of Bludhaven."

The two Robins, present and original, laughed softly as they embraced, Nightwing affectionately ruffling Stephanie's aforementioned hideous hair.

"Thanks for coming back," Stephanie whispered in Dick's ear.

"I'm not sure if I'm back yet. Thanks for looking after him."

"I'm not sure if I'm looking after him. I was gone for six months, after all."

"As much as I hate to piss on a heartwarmin' reunion," a blood-stained Lloyd said harshly, "but I've just gotten word from our source that somethin' nasty's goin' down that we need to take care of."

While Dick wondered who had made this relative stranger the boss, Stephanie huffed indignantly. "Wait a minute! You get to talk to this Wizard of Oz wannabe and I don't?"

"They did say to tell you hello," Lloyd replied in a manner that was not the least bit apologetic.

"What's going on?" asked Kara.

"The Society made a big move while we were gallavantin' through space. Looks like they decided to go about destroyin' a major city without Chemo."

Nightwing immediately began to pale and his blood ran cold. "Bludhaven?" he asked, referring to the sister city of Gotham that he had watched over for the last two years.

Lloyd shook his head. "Star City. Reports say that bombs have been goin' off throughout the city and buildings are topplin' down one after the other."

"Oh Jesus. They couldn't get Bludhaven or Gotham so they decided to go for the next best thing," Stephanie surmised.

Lloyd nodded. "The source is sayin' that the leader of the operation is Arthur Light." The tired Brit turned to look back at Nightwing. "Source says you might know the bloke."

Indeed he did. In fact, he had his hand in placing him behind bars on at least a half-dozen occasions. However, that was when he was regarded as a fatuous stumblebum, a villain without the slightest grasp over the incredible wellspring of power he had at his disposal. It wasn't until recently that he had discovered that the villain known as Dr. Light was once far more dangerous, cruel, and amoral. It had been the work of the Justice League, people like Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, Zatanna, and Dinah Lance, people that he had respected and cared for, who had altered Light's mind, administering the magical equivalent of a lobotomy that had altered him into what he became.

It turned out that they had performed this deed upon dozens of supervillains, although rarely on the grand scale that they had done to Light. However, that wasn't what angered Nightwing. It wasn't what had created a chasm between him, Dinah, and her associates that he still believed to be insurmountable. The fact of the matter is that Batman had caught them while they were brainwashing Light. Frightened that they would have to own up to what they had done, they attacked his father's mind, forcing him to forget what he had seen.

"We need to get out there," Kara pointed out.

"Quite right," said Lloyd. "The only question is what we're gonna do when we get there?"

"How do you mean?" Kara asked.

Lloyd tiredly brushed his hand through his hair. "Let's not beat 'round the bush 'ere. We takin' 'em out or are we takin' prisoners?"

It took a beat for Nightwing to register what was said. "I beg your pardon?"

"I think it's up for Batman to decide," Kara said rationally.

"I'm not really sure if B is up for any big-time decision making," Robin said with trepidation.

"Okay, you'll have to pardon me, but I think I missed some of the important plot points," Nightwing interrupted. "Now I'm not certain if I stepped in the right Batcave but the last time I checked you weren't around and we didn't even _think_ about killing anybody."

"'S that right?" Lloyd drawled out. "Then who's this Blockbuster fella that's flashin' 'bout in your head right now?"

Stephanie cinched up. She may not have had any idea what Lloyd was referring to, but it was quite obvious that Lloyd hadn't just pressed Nightwing's buttons. He had ripped them from his jacket, stomped on them, and was wearing them as a necklace.

"And who the hell said you could go into my mind!" Nightwing raged, surging towards Lloyd until Stephanie slid in front of him and held him back.

"That's enough."

There was not the slightest trace of trepidation or anger within the voice of The Batman as he moved towards them, his posture and tone instantly bringing an end to the unruly activities.

"The four of you are going to go to Star City immediately," Batman announced. "Lloyd and Nightwing will aid the EMT personnel and local rescue crews. Robin, I want you to search for Green Arrow and his team. It's doubtless that the Society is targeting them in one way or another. If they're still alive, aid them in any way you can. Kara, I want you on the lookout for any other members of the Society. I realize that you may be unsure, but I want you to use your best judgment as to whether or not you want to confront them directly. Do not be afraid to contact the others for assistance."

The voice of the Batman left no room for argument or dissension. Four nods later, he continued.

"Remember, your purpose is to protect and persevere the lives of the people of Star City. None of you are to directly or purposely confront Arthur Light. The other members of the Society view him as a figurehead, a symbol of the supposed injustices that have been inflicted upon them by the Justice League and others. Their loyalties and motivations, however perverted and distorted they may be, harbor upon the atrocities that had been inflicted upon him. This matter must be handled with the utmost of care."

With all their attitude, capability, and power, the four younger heroes were quite hesitant to ask the question that was hanging on the tips of their tongues. Finally, Stephanie spoke up hesitantly.

"What are you going to be doing, boss?"

"I'm going to be dealing with Dr. Light."

* * *

_1:42 A.M._

There was a reason why Talia Al-Ghul was one of the few women that Bruce Wayne had ever truly loved. Ruthlessly intelligent, startlingly charming, and possessing phenomenal strength of body and will, she was every bit the figure of genetic perfection that her father, Ra's Al-Ghul, could have dreamed for. She was also a paragon of exotic beauty: olive skin as smooth and rich as velvet with a body as strong as silk, eyes of jade that looked as if they had been stolen from the great lionesses of the Serengeti, and a body that was a unique and exceedingly rare combination of beauty and strength conditioned and molded to nigh-perfection.

The figure standing next to her was something different altogether, although he too radiated an aura of importance and power that could simply not be ignored. Flawlessly tailored in Armani business wear, he hardly looked like a man with the power, intelligence, and finances to alter and manipulate the lives of billions of people. And yet this man, this prematurely bald, physically unremarkable, and slightly doughy around the middleman, was viewed as a savior by many and a monster by more.

He had played many roles in his life. A brilliant, but mad, scientist, a captain of industry, and even served as president of the United States. Now he was the leader of the Society, no matter what Talia, Doctor Psycho, or Black Adam would like to believe. However, no matter what hat he chose to wear: philanthropist, businessman, terrorist, or despot, he still possessed one of the sharpest minds that the world had ever known.

He was Lex Luthor.

"Initial estimations and reports claim that thousands have perished in the attacks at Star City," Talia announced. "California state rescue crews are racing towards the city, but there have been no sightings of superheroes yet."

"Well, we have kept them rather busy, my dear," Luthor said calmly, completely unconcerned that his actions had lead to the deaths of thousands. "And what of Green Arrow and his little troupe?"

"Merlyn reported in several minutes ago. It appears that the shock of watching his home being destroyed allowed Merlyn to impale Oliver Queen on two of his own arrows. He claims it is only a matter of time before Green Arrow dies. Mia Dearden and Connor Hawke were caught in the explosion of Queen's apartment. Their bodies have yet to be found although Light reports that Jefferson Pierce is leading the search."

Luthor's grin was almost indiscernible, but it was there. "So nice to see a former employee of mine working for the greater good. Well, Mrs. Al-Ghul, I believe that our mission to make an example of Star City and its' protector has been a significant success. Would you not agree?"

Talia did not even bother to hide her distaste for the matters at hand. "I still believe that we have gone too far."

Luthor openly scoffed at Talia while taking a slow imbibe of his immaculately preserved Merlot. "Please don't pretend that you're dismayed, my dear. Both you and your father have displayed a yen for intermittent bouts of ethnic cleansing under the banner of conservation."

"This is not a matter of ethical diffidence, Luthor. It is a matter of strategy and tactics. With the attack upon Star City we have openly declared war upon superheroes. Thus far we have acted covertly, staying well underneath the eyes of the authorities. It is still uncertain whether or not we have the numbers to win on a global stage."

"My dear, there are over 400 men, women, and aliens who have pledged allegiance to our society. The Justice League is no more and the Justice Society is already stretched to the breaking point. The heroes are divided, frayed, and unmoored. If there is a more opportune occasion to strike, then frankly you wouldn't have had to point it out to me."

Talia shook her head. "You have a rich tradition for underestimating your opponents, Luthor. Pray that your presumptuous claim has merit."

Luthor took the obvious threat with a vicious grin. "Do be honest with me, Talia. Is this hesitance a legitimate show of concern or a not-so-subtle desire to avoid seeing your precious beloved come to harm?"

Talia emitted a very unladylike growl at the mention of Batman. "I hold no sentiment for my enemies."

"Truly?" Luthor asked as he took another sip. "I will not deny that the Dark Knight and his compatriots have been quite the nuisance. However, a nuisance is all they are. I am certain that a simple flex of our muscle will rid us of him."

The lovely leader of the League of Assassins openly scoffed. "Your presumption truly knows no bounds. A great many have painted my beloved with such a brush. They all met defeat. You risk awakening a dangerous viper with your grousing."

Luthor appeared to be legitimately intrigued by the turn of conversation. "So you believe that the good Batman is capable of going over the line? To fight a war on the same level as our own?"

"He has always had the capacity for becoming such a man, Luthor. He only required the proper motivation."

"Well then," Luthor said as he raised his glass to the air. "Here's hoping that we're pushing the man in the right direction."

Talia looked at Luthor incredulously. "I beg your pardon!"

"How does the old saying go, Mrs. Al-Ghul? 'Damned if you don't, damned if you do?'. It holds quite true here."

Lex took another leisurely sip of wine. "Say if Batman or anyone else chooses to cross over the ridiculous moral line that they have established. It will only benefit us in the grand scheme of things." Luthor ignored Talia's stunned expression and continued on. "There are so many pawns upon this chessboard, Mrs. Al-Ghul. Villains and heroes. Black hats, white hats, and all the grays in between. All of them scurrying about pretending they have some semblance of control over what is going on around them. However, there is only one of us that can truly control it all."

Lex Luthor calmly walked away from his still-stricken company.

"Just be grateful that you're on his side."

* * *

_1:57 A.M. _

"Give me your poor, your tired, your ill of heart, and I will watch them burn one by one."

Arthur Light almost looked bored as he casually fired a tiny blast of energy from his finger. The beam smashed into the shoulder blades of a man a thousand feet below him, the solid light smashing through his chest. Light observed a woman, presumably a wife or girlfriend, falling to her knees and wailing madly over the corpse. He briefly contemplated going down to say hello, show the fetching young lass what a real man could do, to really give her something to cry about. However, he decided instead to remain above it all, making another lazy pass over his handiwork.

And what impressive handiwork it was. Dozens of buildings small and tall blazing, crumbling, and falling. The ground littered with the shrapnel from the numerous bomb blasts and the rubble that was created from the destruction. Bodies strewn about the streets. The contemptible Oliver Queen bleeding to death somewhere in this reeking hellhole.

"Are you laughing at me now, people of Star City?" Dr. Light screamed to the ruined metropolis. "Do you still view me as pathetic? Some piteous, doddering fool left to be beaten and captured by teenagers time and time again? Or am I now something to be feared? To be hated? Don't blame me for your misfortune! You see, if the Justice League had not violated my mind, made me into a shell of the powerful man that I am, then perhaps you would have been spared. However, a great crime has been inflicted upon me and I just feel this ardent desire to share in my suffering."

Arthur Light's ramblings were sharply cut off when a midnight-black beam of energy struck him full in the back, the impact of the wave sending his forcefield protected body crashing into one of Star City's many vacated office buildings. Despite the pain in his chest from the impact, Light couldn't help but feel his anticipation bubbling. At last, he was going to get what he was looking for.

"Another so-called hero arrives," Light said with a cruel smirk. "So who's stepping up to get beat down this time?" The former small-time thief got his first look at his opponent and frowned. "Well, forgive me for shooting high but I was hoping for Superman. Or at least Wonder Woman. Nothing better than getting a little T & A to go with your superhero killing."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Batman hissed in a tone that indicated anything but.

Light could see even through his aura of certainty that Batman had come to play. The detective was fully decked out in sleek, black-and-silver battle armor. Propulsion elements in the boots of the carapace gave him flight and a dangerous looking arm cannon substituting for his left hand explained the firepower. Had it not been for the simple black insignia upon the breastplate and the familiar, ever-menacing look within the eye slits, Light wouldn't have recognized him.

"Pretty rich boys with their toys," Light crooned as he rose to his feet. "But you know as well as I do that underneath all that you're just a normal man. However, if you're nice, I'll just cook you inside your fancy frying pan instead of ripping you out of it and melting your body parts one by URK. . ."

Light's revolting threat was cut short by a solid right cross right on his chin. That was immediately followed by a left uppercut that sent Light soaring through the other side of the building he had crashed into. The Dark Knight pressed the attack by firing another ebony beam of energy. Despite his discomfort, Light managed to touch into his mastery of energy manipulation and deflect the blast at the last moment with only a minute amount of effort.

"And underneath your tremendous power there hides a cowed old man who seeks to administer pain and prey upon the work in order to make himself superior, creating a self-created victim complex that makes him feel justified for the atrocities he commits."

"Who in the HELL are you to judge me?" Light all but howled as he fired a flurry of shots from his palms. Batman dodged each assault, the battle armor's speed and maneuverability clearly belying its considerable bulk. "You violated my mind! Transformed me into an idiotic shell of a human being!" Light continued to try and strike Batman as he began to rave, but each blast was deftly avoided. Finally, the Batman countered one attack with a blast of his own, midnight-black and shining-white crashing into one another right in the middle.

"In case you're too wrapped up within your own self-righteous dementia to remember, Doctor Light," Batman said as he magnified the power output being sent to his cannon arm, "I did not play a part in any telepathic lobotomy that the Justice League may have performed. However, you have my word that you will be brought to justice for the crimes you have performed on the people of Star City."

A small bead of sweat slid down Arthur Light's long nose as he cackled. "Trying to beat me at my own game, Bats? I am Doctor Light! Any light-based energy is mine to control! Mine to manipulate! And that includes what's coming out of that fancy cannon."

Straining from the effort, Light overwhelmed the Batman's counter-shot, sending both it and his own attack right into the armor's chest plate.

And did absolutely nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Arthur Light's façade of confidence began to wither.

"I don't suppose you recall your most recent encounter with the Teen Titans, Arthur?" The Batman inquired calmly as he ominously floated towards Doctor Light. "When you wanted to demonstrate your superiority by assaulting teenagers and kidnapping Oliver Queen? If I recall, you were doing quite well for yourself until Victor Stone had employed a series of solar plates within his armor that channeled your energy blasts and powered his own cyborg body while draining your own."

Batman and Doctor Light now stood nearly face-to-face.

"Would you like to venture a guess as to who _provided_ him with that technology?"

WHOOOOM!

A monstrous haymaker shattered Arthur Light's jaw and sent him hurtling toward the ground, a timely force field being the only thing stopping him from splattering on the broken pavement below. By the time he had managed to recover his bearings, Light was once again staring at the Batman as his feet touched the ground.

To his credit, Light managed to bring himself back up to his feet, although it was quite obvious that he was in a significant amount of pain. "Well," Light said, his broken jaw maligning his usually pompous voice into a whisper, "I believe I've done everything I came here to do. I'll take my leave of you and go about the rest of my business. Perhaps I can work in a stop at Gotham City. Perhaps I can introduce myself to that pretty little Robin while I burn your city to cinders."

Light began to teleport away, a maneuver that he had performed on so many occasions over the years that it had become more of an instinct than a practiced counter-measure. This time, however, he remained where he was. Only slightly unfazed by his initial failure, he attempted to reorganize his molecules, concentrate his manipulation of light and energy to transform his flesh and blood into sentient energy.

Nothing.

"I've put it upon one of my associates to make certain that you can't teleport away from this fight. It's unpleasant, isn't it? Being placed into an uncomfortable situation that you can't run away from. But you will finish what you started this time, Doctor!"

Batman grasped Arthur Light by the scruff of his white cape and lifted him upward, the both of them soaring back into the burning sky of Star City.

"That's what a real man does."

* * *

_2:05 A.M._

"Just a question before I kick your ass, Merlyn." Robin said as she ducked under another arrow. "What is it with archers and weird facial hair? I mean, we've got Arsenal with that funky little soul patch. . ." She twisted her body to avoid another shot. "Green Arrow's got that whole Robin Hood goatee thing working and you've got that weird sloping beard thingie and that silly-ass haircut."

Robin used her ring-enhanced agility to quickly close the gap and sock Merlyn with a well-placed foot in the gut.

"'Cause I'm thinking of learning how to use a bow and arrow when I get some spare time but I don't think I want to if I'm going to have to go out looking like that!" While Merlyn attempted to recover, Robin created a sledgehammer with her ring that she used to render the bow useless and she added a kick to the side of the head to do the same for the bow's owner.

The reverberating sounds of the battle between Batman and Dr. Light could be heard nearly as well through Stephanie's communicator as through her own ears. The white flashes of Doctor Light's blasts continuously cut through the night sky, as if the smoldering city was being treated to a bizarre fireworks display. The city itself had quieted down. It was quite clear that any other members of the Society involved in the operation had already cleared out and Kara had been hard at work extinguishing the many fires throughout the city. Impromptu intensive care units had been put together, searches were being conducted, but Stephanie imagined that it would be a long time before any measure of true order could be restored to the city.

Maybe it never would.

"Nightwing to Robin. Nightwing to Robin. Have you found Merlyn?"

Stephanie took a moment to tear herself away from the battle in the sky and her own troubling thoughts and brought her communicator to bear. "Yeah, I've got him all trussed up and ready for the pokey. How's G.A. holding up?"

"Not too bad for somebody with two gaping holes in his chest."

Stephanie nodded and created a series of restraints with her ring that quickly wrapped around Merlyn. "By the way, you'd think that this Green Arrow guy should take better care of himself? I mean, I've only met this guy a few times, but every time I've met him he's either coming back from the dead, full of holes, or just got done getting his ass kicked!"

"Other than trying to count the number of times Batgirl dragged you back to the Batcave, I won't make any measures to point out the irony of that little statement."

"Batgirl was the one who knocked me unconscious! That doesn't count!" Stephanie exclaimed.

FRA-KA-KOOOM!

Robin turned a worried glance up to the sky. "Any thoughts on this, Richie?"

"Batman will win, Robin."

"You _know _that isn't what I meant."

Stephanie could hear Dick's sigh through the communicator. "I've got a lot of thoughts on this, Robin."

"I don't even know what he plans on doing." Stephanie said with a bit of sorrow. "I just hope that he can live with whatever he does."

"Me too, sprout."

* * *

_2:22 A.M. _

The battle was done.

All the force fields, proton repulsions, and light shows at Arthur Light's disposal could do little to protect him from The Batman's speed, skill, and proficiency. His power depleted, his body in agony, and his ego deflated, Light lay amidst the smoking hell that he created. The Batman floated above him, his armor nearly as polished and without flaw as it was at the start of the skirmish.

"All right. All right!" Light croaked. "I'm done! I surrender!"

Batman nodded, a slow, menacing gesture.

"You plea for mercy now that you're beaten." Batman mused. "Tell me, Doctor. Did Sue Dibny ask for mercy as you raped her? Did you enjoy the screams of the women you violated in order to feed your own ego?"

"All that and then some," Light replied with a lascivious sneer in the face of his defeater.

"And what of the thousands you've killed here this night under the name of the Society? All these innocent people dead just so you could prove a point. . . make a statement. Did you hear their pleas of mercy? Did you hear the pleas of those that remain alive? Were they _done_ with you before or after you destroyed their homes? Their lives!"

"Now. . . now wait a minute, Bats." Light fearfully murmured as he scooted backward. "Wait a second! You're not supposed to kill!"

"They call you the figurehead of the Society, Arthur." A beeping sound rang from Batman's armor and the left arm cannon began to slide back until his gloved hand was visible. "The Justice League's mind wipe of you is a rallying cry for those who would normally be too self-regarding or emotionally unstable to work together. Therefore, I cannot think of a better person that can deliver my message to Luthor and his organization."

Light feebly tried to rise to his feet despite his mangled right leg, his voice gibbering incoherently and his face frozen in a picture of fear. The Batman tripped him up and stood over him.

"_So this massacre is a message, is it?" _Batman growled.

"Batman! Wait! No!" Arthur screamed.

But the right fist of the Dark Knight was already in motion. The blow struck the former scientist dead center right in the forehead. Bruce Wayne was a master of the functioning of the human body, spending years analyzing both its amazing strengths to its most fatal weaknesses. He had never willingly taken a human life but he knew a thousand ways with which to do so. The precise position of the blow shattered the front of Arthur Light's skull, the fragments piercing the murderer's hate-polluted mind.

Arthur Light was dead.

"The message is received."

Misfits Confidential

Okay, I've definitely lost some readers with this chapter.

Please review. Just tell me what you think. I really want to know.

Issue #20 Preview

The Society has the brains, brawn, and resources to bring the entire world to its knees. What can a mere five people do to stop such an all-encompassing army? Quite a bit, as you'll find out in the next issue. However, there are still pieces to this complicated puzzle that have yet to be put on the board; people that can either save the world from destruction or bring it about. The slippery slope gets even trickier to negotiate as our heroes go to war in the next installment of The Misfits: Hunting the Hunters! See you in seven!


	20. Hunting the Hunters

Issue #20

Hunting the Hunters

_Lincoln, Nebraska_

It had taken five years for Bruce to trust him enough to fly the Batplane.

It had never been a significant bone of contention for Nightwing. He had always preferred his own two feet to move around if he had the convenience and opportunity to do so. Of course, it was hard to beat back the seemingly natural desire to get behind the wheel of a very fast and very nice-looking vehicle. Looking back on it, Dick was self-aware enough to realize that their arguments about driving or flying were just an offshoot of their festering independence-related issues. Bruce thought that he was an idiot who needed all the help he could get and he thought that he didn't need Bruce for anything.

At least they both thought they knew it all. That similarity was something to take comfort in.

Dick Grayson shook his head in a mild fit of vexation. He knew why he was thinking along these lines. It was comforting. Familiar. It was easy to hash up the old squabbles and arguments. It was easy to remember the times when he still saw Bruce as a father hen who thought he knew the answer to everything. It amazed him how something that was once so infuriating could now be an ever-momentary balm for a festering wound.

Bruce had killed Dr. Light. He had broken his most solemn vow and Dick still didn't have all the information on why his father thought that what he was doing was right. While his mind was flooded with confusion and doubt, there was no doubt of his father's intentions. Batman had declared war upon the Society. He was intent on decimating the group of villains rather than capturing them. Richard wondered what Helena would say to that. Or Tim. Or Selina. It was better to ponder what they would have thought about it. Anything was better than asking the question hastily forcing its way to the surface.

How do _you _feel about it?

_See? This is why I shouldn't go back to Gotham! I come in here thinking I'm just gonna drop in and do my part to help save the world from a sentient virus and then I'd just go back to my everyday life! Instead, here I am knee-deep in a moral quandary and a war that could rip the planet to shreds and the only people alongside me are two near strangers, my big-mouthed replacement, and my issue-laden father! _

_Damn it, I was already having enough trouble having to accept the fact that I've completely botched up any chance of getting back with the Outsiders or the Titans or K'ory. And lest I forget, Bruce and Barbara don't appear to be ready to get back on speaking terms anytime soon either and if I side with Bruce on this one then that will pretty much deep six whatever was going on between us. Yeah, you've got a pretty shitty smelling crock-pot bubbling, don't you Dick? Oh, and remember that you're currently flying across the country under the orders of the man you've got a skeleton's worth of bones to pick with! Don't forget that!_

_Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._

An all too familiar beeping nose emanated from the Batplane's communicator as Bruce's face appeared on the projection monitor. He had finally rid himself of the battle armor he had used only twenty minutes before and was now dressed in his normal cape and cowl.

Dick Grayson knew he was one of a handful of people that could look into the eyes of Bruce Wayne and know what he was thinking. Alfred could. Selina wasn't perfect at it but she was right more often than not, much to Bruce's consistent consternation. Tim was getting the hang of it. Babs could never pull it off. Clark thought he could but he rarely ever did. Still, he would have given quite a bit not to have that gift of foresight now. There were a number of troubling aspects swirling about in the eyes of Bruce Wayne. Concern, understanding, the barest hints of physical weariness.

Not the slightest trace of uncertainty.

That confirmed it. Bruce believed in what he was planning to do.

_God damn it_.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Nightwing. This doesn't have to be your fight."

Batman's firm candor was tinted ever-so-slightly by a familiar tone. It reminded Richard of that fateful night nearly 13 years ago when he had finally convinced Batman that he could fight alongside him, convinced Bruce that he could have a place in the darker side of his life. There was worry and compassion in Bruce's voice, an awareness of knowing that what he did and said could bring harm to that little crying circus boy that he took into his home. It was a tone that pulled at the strings of Dick's heart so tightly that he suddenly felt like he would be crushed.

Dick could nod as K'ory told him that Bruce was cold-hearted, that Bruce didn't think of him as anything more than an asset or a weapon. He could joke and snark with Donna and Roy and Wally about how uptight and domineering Bruce could be and laugh while his friends mocked his father's sour disposition, his hard-headedness, his complete lack of social graces. He couldn't joke away that voice; the voice of a man who truly cared about the few people that he had truly brought into his world. He couldn't turn away from the voice of the man who molded him into a person that he was proud to be and hoped that he would become again.

"Is everyone else on schedule?" Nightwing asked.

"Nightwing. . ."

"Is everyone else on schedule?" Nightwing put all his strength and authority behind his words while trying to sound quiet and calm about it. He knew there was no way he could fool Bruce but he had to try.

"I'm so sorry, Dick."

Nightwing cracked, if only for the slightest moment. "There's no need for apologies, Bruce. You didn't drag me into this plane and lock me inside. Well, not this time in any case."

Bruce gave him a glimmer of a smile. "Lloyd is already in position and waiting for your signal." The image of Bruce turned to the person strapped in the passenger seat. "The same conditions apply to you as well. I know I'm asking a great deal from the both of you."

The passenger merely nodded before going back to staring out the window.

"We'll be all right Batman." Nightwing said, this time with greater conviction.

"Very well. We will maintain radio silence until the signal to attack is broadcast. Good luck and be careful."

Nightwing nodded and watched as Bruce's image fizzled away and the screen faded to black. His last opportunity to back away from this insanity flickered away into nothing.

_This is going to change everything. Whether we succeed or fail, they'll never look at us in the same way again. _

Nightwing paused.

_They'll never look at **us** the same way again_.

_Damn it.

* * *

_

_Phoenix, Arizona_

"Toast a glass of your liquor of choice boys and girls," Simon Jones said with a sneer. "Doctor Light has bitten the dust."

The other members of the Fearsome Five were more than happy to express their cheer towards this bit of news. Though Arthur Light's mind wipe had been the motivational factor for many of those who had chosen to join the Society, many of those within the Society found him to be an intolerable bigot and a person who was downright morally reprehensible. The cheers of Jynx and Shimmer were exceptionally boisterous, a fact that should not be too surprising given Light's exceptionally revolting attitude towards women. The Fearsome Five's hatred of the recently deceased mass-murderer was additionally bolstered by their frequent collaborations with the man in the past, occasions in which they had the tendency to either end up being incarcerated or publicly humiliated.

"So any word on who punched his ticket?" asked Shimmer. "Oh, please tell me it was one of the Titans. There really is nothing more entertaining than watching those little snot-noses bitching and moaning about how horrible their lives are while they're living in a fuckin' ivory tower."

As amusing as Psimon found Shimmer's little statement to be, his response to her question was exceptionally subdued. "Well, um, that's the thing. The higher ups are saying that it was the Bat."

Jinx chuckled. "Oh please, Psimon. Batman killed Doctor Light? Next you'll be telling us Lex Luthor just signed up to play bass guitar for the Ramones."

"I'm serious, Miss Cleo." Psimon ignored the cross look on the face of his longtime partner. "I mean, nobody's admitting to anything but that's the rumor going through the grapevine."

"So what?" Shimmer exclaimed. "It's just Batman! A normal meat sack of a human with a bunch of toys in his belt! Why should we be scared of him?"

"Because he's Batman!" Psimon said with great conviction before his unconvinced audience. His frustration at being unable to convince his compatriots caused his exposed cerebellum to expand. "Look, maybe it's just because you've never fought him or seen him up close but The Bat is something to worry about. He isn't just about chasing down all the Gotham City fruit loops, people! He's the one those Justice League jackasses turn to whenever they've got a problem they can't solve. If he's really snapped and he's going for blood, then I'm thinking it's best for all of us that we get out of Dodge and pick our scraps where we can find it."

"Never pegged you for a chickenshit," Shimmer said with a patronizing air. "He's not unstoppable. That Mexican wrestler wannabe Bane broke his back, didn't he? Trust me. He comes within a hundred yards of me and I'll turn his stomach into a fondue pot."

BLAM!

Shimmer's ego-drenched assurances were abruptly cut short by a bullet that punched through her forehead and perforated her brain pan before passing out of the back of her skull at nearly 300 miles per hour. The impact caused her body to jolt backwards in her seat before she ultimately fell to the cold floor of the safe house on top of what was left of her face. The violent display left Jinx and Psimon searching frantically for their assailant while Mammoth rushed to gather his fallen sibling in his massive arms with a horrible wail.

"Well, I'll just have to remind the boss to stay a good ways from ya. Then again, doesn't seem like much of an issue now, innit?"

Lloyd Thomas, the Black Dog, stood in front of the three remaining Society members. He cradled a smoking sniper rifle in his left arm while he stared them all down with a sinister grin. He looked at them each in turn, wanting them to know what was in store for them. He wanted them to know that they were nothing more than cornered hens and he was quite the famished wolf.

"And just to ease your troubled minds, yes, it was Bats who rid the world of Dr. Light. May the raping, murdering piece of shit rest with red-hot pokers up his arse. Anyhow, anybody'd like to guess who's next on the choppin' block?"

The Fearsome Five would never be known as the most cohesive group of supervillains. In fact, they oftentimes were just as likely to fight one another as they would fight the people that were trying to stop them. However, the ever-looming threat of an agonizing death could be a powerful motivating factor for even the most capricious of personalities.

Jynx and Shimmer attacked simultaneously, the former lobbing the most powerful hexes at her disposal while Psimon used his telekinesis to fling any weighty object he could find at their potential assassin. Mammoth was quick to throw his hat into the ring as well, rushing towards the young, raven-haired man with murder in his eyes.

Lloyd watched the brute rush towards him as he easily weathered the double assault. He watched the fear creeping into the faces of Jynx and Psimon and tried to not find any pleasure in the fact that he was responsible for it. He knew that wasn't the right way to be thinking. It wasn't how a good man would respond.

But then he imagined the stricken faces of those innocent people that had been within the office building that this little band of miscreants had attacked under the orders of Doctor Sivana. Lloyd pictured those innocent people gasping and straining to understand what was happening to them. He could feel their suffering as their internal organs liquefied from the effects of the toxic gas that the Fearsome Five had attacked them with for nearly no reason at all. He glimpsed through the memories of Jynx and witnessed the witch laughing at the horror that would come to her victims and he watched Psimon sling an arm around her partner and laugh as well.

Oh yes, he would enjoy this.

Lloyd teleported away from the combined assault. He was at Psimon's back in the blink of an eye. Lloyd made certain to wait until Psimon turned around before pulling his saber out of its scabbard and pushing the blade through the telepath's heart. Shielding himself from the spray of blood with a force bubble, Lloyd yanked his blade from Psimon's chest and threw it behind him. The airborne weapon found purchase in the side of Jynx's neck, the impossibly sharp blade having little trouble piercing the witch's trachea. With three of his targets down in nearly thirty seconds, Lloyd took the briefest of moments to watch his most-recent victim fall before giving notice to Mammoth's blood-thirsty yell and rampant charge. Lloyd calmly fired two energy blasts from his left palm, once again not even bothering to look directly at his target. The first crimson-red ray of energy struck Mammoth in the left kneecap, a debilitating shot that left the muscleman all too vulnerable to the second blast that struck him in the chest.

Lloyd sighed as he used his telekinesis to retrieve the blood-soaked saber from Jynx's body. The faint slicing sound that resulted from the messy extraction of metal from flesh seemed to echo within the suddenly quiet facility. Lloyd caught the approaching blade with his left hand, moving to place the blade back in its leather casing before he was interrupted by a blistering stream of heat that wrapped his body in unforgiving heat. When the flames abated, Lloyd still stood relatively unfazed. He made a point to holster his blade before turning around to calmly regard his new foe.

He was nothing short of a walking nightmare. Standing a good three feet taller than Lloyd, nearly every aspect of him reeked with power. His body was defined and muscular and his glowing amber eyes held a look of nasty intentions. Although his dark red skin was mostly kept from view by an astonishingly well-tailored Armani suit, the elegant garments did nothing to hide either the massive horns upon the man's prominent forehead or the enormous clawed hands that were still smoking as a result of the jet stream of flame the man had fired in his attempts to incinerate his calm opponent.

Lloyd prepared himself for a fight. He may have never heard of Ishmael Gregor, the former aspiring Russian mob prodigy that this creature once was but Batman had been sure to tell him about Sabbac.

* * *

_Sacramento, California_

Gorilla Grodd stood amongst the various Society members under his command in the manner of a grand general gazing upon his eager troops. Though the idea of following the orders of Lex Luthor still infuriated him, the evolved primate found himself to be quite eager to bring grievous injury upon those that interfered with his grand designs in the past. The latest bit of news involving Batman had only intrigued him all the more. It would be a privilege to match wits with one of the few so-called heroes that had come to earn his respect.

As enthralled as the prospects had become, Grodd was a strategist first and foremost. He found no need to inform his troops of his feelings. Instead, he would inspire them.

"The time to claim our vengeance draws ever near, my friends." Grodd said with a firm, dignified air as he raised his massive, hairy arms. "No longer shall we cower in fear of those who interfere with our ambitions, desires, and designs. No longer shall we allow our foolish pride to interfere with our desire to succeed. Tonight we stand united, a force with the power to bend the ways of the world to our liking and to lay all who oppose us low."

A hearty cheer erupted from his listeners, but Grodd continued on. "You have witnessed the folly of arrogance! For years we have had the power to claim what is rightfully ours but we instead chose to seek our dreams alone only to be stopped by a united front. You witnessed the price of pride as Arthur Light was struck down! However, there is no need to fear Batman! There is no need to fear anyone! Instead, we shall merely strike down all who oppose us with the unfettered power of our mighty hands! If we continue to work side-by-side, our minds and convictions aligned, then I assure you that the reign of heroes will soon come to an end."

"You may be right on that," a voice said with a hint of sorrow.

The Society members turned around to see Nightwing standing at the entrance of the briefing room armed with nothing more than his escrima sticks and his determination. There was a momentary suspension of activity as the various members of the Society each registered the acrobat's presence. For most of them, it was as if Christmas had just arrived a month early and they had just caught a glimpse of a shiny, new bicycle underneath the tree.

Grodd knew better. Batman would not be so foolish to send his follower out alone to take on a force far superior in power and number. He would not make such a grievously tactical error. This meant that Nightwing wasn't alone.

KRACK!

The vile sound of shattering bones caused the Society members to turn away from Nightwing and once again turn their attention to the stage. Grodd lay face down upon the stage, the primate's neck broken well beyond any possible point of repair. Above him stood Kara Zo'rel, the young woman's normally bright, blue eyes now crimson-red.

"You may be right," Nightwing all but murmured as the remaining members of the Society broke into an all-out panic.

_Phoenix, Arizona_

Lloyd had long since gotten tired of taking on opponents that could give him a run for his money.

It wasn't as if he didn't like a challenge or anything. After all, the hallmark of any good fighter is the constant desire to hone one's craft and often the best way to do so was to challenge those that were strong and skilled enough to truly appreciate your capabilities. However, after getting his chest crunched into mush by Amazo robots, shot by Deathstroke, being nearly disintegrated by both Envy and the Spectre and being beat into a bloody pulp by constructs, Lloyd really could have done with an easier assignment.

Nightwing had informed him that Gregor had only been in control of the power of Sabbac for several months but it was quite clear that Gregor knew what he was doing. He combined his physical and mystical might with near-flawless precision, matching Lloyd punch for punch and blast for blast. The innards of the factory were quickly becoming battered and burned by the sheer force of the ambient energy.

"You are a fool to commit such a brazen assault, young man," Gregor warned, his thick Russian accent and demonic growl making his speech sound almost guttural. "However, I must applaud you for your talents. You would have made a fine lieutenant, unlike this psychotic rabble. Rest assured that I will take great joy and accomplishment in your death."

Lloyd ended his recent round of parrying with a back somersault that put quite a bit of space between the two demonically fueled combatants. "Pretty courteous for a demon spawn, yeah?"

"I am no mere spawn. I am the product of the greatest demons ever known. Aym, Belial, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Createis, and Satan. These demons empower my flesh, filling me with powers that few could ever hope to understand! I am not a demon, child! I am The Devil!"

Lloyd sneered. "_The _Devil, eh? Well, rummy. . ."

In a flash, Lloyd pulled his sword back out of its scabbard and teleported so he was directly in front of Sabbac.

"I've met The Devil, mate. . ."

It all started with a stab to the gut. Pulling his entire well of energy into a single frenzied offensive rush, Lloyd became a violent blur that slashed and hacked at his overmatched opponent with impossible speed. Black blood spilled from Sabbac's wounds as Lloyd continued working his way through Sabbac's fragile defenses in a manner of seconds. After hundreds upon hundreds of lashes, Lloyd calmly stretched his right palm and fired a massive blast of energy that incinerated what remained of Ishmael Gregor.

Lloyd looked down at the pile of ash that smelled faintly of brimstone. "I assure you, you're not it."

* * *

_Sacramento, California_

Kara Zo'rel suddenly felt the distinct need to vomit.

The other Society members were no match for them at all, disoriented by fear and panic. Nightwing had no trouble staying out of harm's way and picking his shots while she incapacitated one villain after the other. Batman had assured them that Grodd was the only unnecessary death and Kara was thankful for the fact that she didn't have to take another life.

Still, that didn't stop her from regurgitating Alfred's lovingly-prepared homemade lasagna onto the blood-stained stage. She tried to blot out the sound of Grodd's neck cracking, erase the sight of the faint gurgle of blood creeping from the gorilla's maw as he fell to the floor, and shake away the looks of horror and panic within the eyes of murderers and criminals as they looked upon her. Indistinct images of a past long forgotten flashed in front of her as she did so. Her father screaming, everyone screaming at her. The blood and the pain and the suffering and none of it was her own.

_GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!_

Nightwing's hand was on her shoulder.

"We need to get out of here, Kara," Nightwing said. Kara could distinctly hear a hint of Batman's confident tone within his voice. "Are you all right?"

Slowly but surely, Kara got a hold of herself. She sighed as she peeled off the telepathic dampeners that had kept her presence hidden from Grodd's telepathy. "Should I be feeling all right?"

Nightwing softly rubbed Kara's shoulder. "I don't think so."

* * *

_Gotham City_

"Mr. Kuttler, would you kindly explain to me just what in the hell is going on and why you couldn't have told me about it sooner?"

Lex Luthor's voice was cold and devoid of rage but clearly dripping with hostile impatience. The Calculator tried and failed to keep from shaking nervously as he unconsciously cleaned his glasses. He could feel his attempt at portraying a countenance of steely resolve quickly chipping away. "The two attacks were simultaneous, Lex. They were both triggered by a minute electromagnetic pulse that temporarily shut down all security surveillance equipment in both facilities. By the time I was able to bring any audiovisual feeds back on line our attackers had already gone in, destroyed everything in sight, and left."

"I'll just be a dear and ask the obvious question of why the hell we should care about this," Doctor Psycho said calmly as he ran his small, pudgy hands through his wild, black hair. "Come on, people! It's The Fearsome Five and a talking monkey! Guys like those are a dime a dozen!"

"It isn't the point of who the losses are, Doctor," boomed the dignified, haughty voice of Black Adam. "It is the fact that there _are_ losses. Our recruiting efforts are centered upon the assurance that alignment with the Society would give those who joined a sense of personal security. Attacks such as these will only serve to dissuade those who were hesitant to join our cause. Without their support we are no better than the endless array of groups that have tried and failed to eliminate the heroes of this planet before us."

"Who knew that having the wisdom of Zehuti would allow someone to make the most ludicrously obvious of observations?" Luthor drawled.

The Lord of Kahndaq slowly rose to his feet, his majestic figure garbed within his regal black and yellow battle garments. The mystic lightning that empowered him circled his fingers. "Need I remind you that I require little motivation to tear you limb from limb, American braggart? You should be a great deal more careful in how you choose to speak to me."

"Children, children. Can't we just agree to hate one another?" asked Doctor Psycho, perhaps the last person in the solar system that anyone would ever consider to be the level-headed one in the midst of an argument. "Let's focus on the big picture! We've got a bunch of bloodthirsty goody-too-shoes to kill!"

"Though the mere thought of it makes my skin crawl, I must agree with Doctor Psycho," Deathstroke said. "We need to be rid of this problem area before its effects begin to take its' toll on morale."

"That is a perfectly fine idea, Deathstroke, but we are still not entirely certain of where to strike nor have we confirmed the identity of our attackers."

"Don't play coy, Talia. It doesn't become you." Luthor said. "What happened in Star City should leave no one any doubt over who is coordinating these attacks. It is high time to clip the Bat's wings for good and eliminate each and every accomplice foolish enough to align themselves with him. If the good detective wishes to play with fire then we shall incinerate him and everyone he cares for with the full strength of our Society."

"You make it sound so simple, Lex."

The six members of the Society's inner circle all swerved toward the Calculator's laptop, the source of the voice that interrupted their conversation. The look on Noah Kuttler's face seemed to be torn between fear and outrage as he took a closer look at the dark, brooding figure upon his monitor.

"How on earth did you get into my network?" The Calculator asked incredulously.

"Trust me, Mr. Kuttler, my information network grants me access to anything that I wish to have at my disposal in regards to your organization," Batman replied. "I know everything that there is to know about you. I know the locations of your safe houses, I know how many murderers and monsters you have at your disposal and I was able to trace the transmission frequency that you used to gain control of the Brother Eye satellite so I could rend it inoperable. For a collection of supposed world conquerors, you have been remarkably sloppy."

"Well, it appears that we're doing some things right, dark knight," Lex replied. "Apparently we're a significant enough threat for you to abandon your code. You were personally responsible for the murder of Arthur Light and it hardly takes a master detective to determine that you had a hand in the attack upon our bases and the deaths that occurred there. I hardly think your associates within the Justice League would approve of these actions. Suppose the visual evidence we have gathered manages to make its way to the good people of the Gotham City Police Department? The F.B.I.?" Lex's face twisted into a sinister smile. "A certain blue Boy Scout?"

"I've warned you before that I'm not Superman, Luthor." Batman said threateningly. "Though I may believe in the law, your Society has chosen to declare war. You killed thousands of people in Star City and your attempt to take Chemo out of Blackgate is strong evidence that you were hoping to kill millions more. I am not proud of what I did at Star City but I will not apologize for my actions. And perhaps there will come a time when I must answer the question of why I chose to do what I have done and what I will do. However, my only goal as of this moment is to eliminate your entire organization."

Batman leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers. "All hypocrisy aside however, I do thank you for inquiring about my moral well-being, Lex. I, personally, would rather be spending my time preparing for what is to come."

"You are blinded by your insignificant victories, Batman," said Black Adam. "Scurrying about and striking in secret like the insignificant rat you have always been. However, allow me to assure you that you now have the full attention of our Society upon you. There will be no more hiding behind the coattails of your superhuman counterparts. It is time for you to embrace the cold reality of your own inadequacies."

Batman momentarily stared at Black Adam's regal features. "Just what is your reason for being there, Teth Adam? I have spent a great deal of time wondering why all of you would choose to work alongside one another. It obviously can't simply be because a group of people chose to perform mind wipes. None of you are known for your desire to defend the rights of murderers."

Batman didn't wait for anyone to respond to his statement. "Most of your motivations have been rather simple to deduce. Deathstroke wishes to ensure the safety of his daughter. The Calculator wishes to overcome his psychological inadequacies by drowning himself within his obsessive desire to acquire information."

Noah frowned while Slade said nothing.

"Lex, you are merely returning to old habits. After all, I am not the only one who sees the personal benefits of providing strategy and leadership to people of great power."

"It does have a certain appeal," Luthor admitted.

"Talia is acting in a manner that she believes would be approved of by her late father. Of course, the fact that she was directly responsible for the murder of her father only several months ago obviously indicates an unhealthy quantity of emotional and psychological instability that I won't go into here."

Talia was too furious at her "beloved" to formulate an appropriate reply.

"As for Doctor Psycho. . . Well, he just wants to kill everybody that's ever stopped him from trying to take over the world."

"In particular I want to drink your blood and perform a can-can on your skeleton and vital organs but the sentiment is the same." Psycho agreed.

"However, I still haven't been able to fully understand your motivations, Teth Adam. You were a respected member of the Justice Society. You had the admiration and respect of your entire country. Why throw all that away? If it was your desire to protect the people of Kahndaq, then you could have worked with us instead."

Teth Adam's laughter was bitter, derisive, and ever-so-slightly hesitant. "As if any of you have ever given any indication that you are interested in the safety of my people. Your Justice League has no right to question my motivations or how I choose to protect my people."

Batman nodded. "Fair enough. That being said, I do have one final question that I would like to ask" Batman took the Society's prolonged silence as a sign of permission to continue. "You have been situated in my town for well over a month. You have been seeking contacts and informants in my town for the last four months. Did you _honestly_ believe that I didn't know you were here?"

Batman dipped his left hand into one of the pouches of his utility belt. He pulled a detonator out of it, holding it just so the inner circle of the Society could get a clear look at it.

The headquarters of the Secret Society of Super-Villains was rocked by a serious of explosions with the press of a single button.

* * *

Two figures looked on as the Gotham branch of Lexcorp Industries continued to leak smoke and flame. It was an older couple whom, at first glance, would have appeared as a kindly man and wife that you would most likely run into at a county fair or a hayride. That air of normalcy had once been a great point of pride for the both of them, particularly the man.

"Oh, Bruce. . ." the man said with a voice rocked by inevitable sorrow. "Why are you doing this? It's not right. There's always another way."

The withered old woman softly patted her husband's broad shoulders. "He's doing what he believes he has to do in order to defend the people he cares about. That's something you've always admired that of him."

The man turned to his wife and smiled sadly, taking a small moment of time to simply marvel at this wonderful woman that had chosen to intertwine her life with his own. Though her body had grown weak in their many years of seclusion, her confident mind was still as sharp as over. However, the old man was not to be swayed from his troubling thoughts.

"He's not the Bruce I know, darling. I tried to deny it, I tried to argue against it, but that isn't the Batman that fought alongside me."

The look in the woman's eyes clearly indicated that she thought what her husband said was a rather odd thing to say. "Do you hold that against him? Technically, he's never even met you."

The man shook his head. "No, I don't. It isn't his fault. It's this world. This bleak, horrible world corrupted with so much darkness that I can feel it even from in here." The old man shook his head. "Is this what we fought so hard for? Is this the world that we gave up everything for? A world filled with people so sickened by their hatred and fear and jealousy that no one can tell who is good or bad. I just can't believe that this is the sum total of all our work and sacrifice!"

The woman remained ever calm, ever patient. "I think you're painting an awfully grim picture. Everyone has to go through hard times. Overcoming them is what makes life worth living."

"No." The man's reply sounded like a choking sigh. "There's no hope of overcoming here. There's nothing here but people that are so used to suffocating from their pain that they're drowning in the darkness. It hurts me just to watch it all, especially when I know that there's something I can do to make things better for them."

As odd as it may seem to the outside observer, it was this moment when the old women finally grew cross with her husband's declarations. "Darling, I know that you feel frustrated about our situation and about what is going on out there but I'm asking you to think about what you're thinking of doing. We had agreed a long time ago that we would not interfere."

"But look at what's happening!" The old man said as he broke away from his beloved. "There's so much that could be done! So much that we could do to make things better! We can bring people back to a time when everyone still had a reason to be happy about the world around them. We can instill the hopes and dreams of all these people who think the world is crumbling down on top of them! And the boys! Alex and Connor never deserved to live this kind of life! I may have been willing to go down with the ship but neither of them asked for this!"

The wife nodded sadly. She was well aware that her husband's mind had been made up and that not even she could do anything to dissuade him even she couldn't change it. The husband sensed her distress and rushed forward to grasp his wife's hands tenderly. "And if there any possible way that I can save you then you can guarantee that I am going to do it."

The old woman's smile was crooked, even mildly whimsical. "I didn't realize that I needed saving, Smallville." The tender smile from her husband warmed her heart for a moment, but she couldn't help but notice that the smile didn't quite reach his handsome blue eyes. "I can't tell you that what you're about to do is right or wrong. I'm hardly infallible. All I can do is tell you what I think and hope that still holds some standing with you."

The old man's gentle grin was obvious proof that he did.

"The one thing that I've always loved the most about you was your desire to do the right thing and make things better for everyone. If you think that there's any way to help those good people then I'm sure you'll find it. I just hope you remember that nobody's perfect, not even you."

The old man gave his wife a warm and affectionate kiss. "And I'll make sure that you'll always be there to remind me."

The couple clasped hands for the briefest of moments before the old man went to his work. He flew purposefully towards the walls of their crystalline prison, taking a deep breath as he landed. Rolling his right fist into a ball, he struck the sturdy crystal-like structure, the impact of the blow sending shockwaves throughout their home of nearly six years. Seeing not the slightest scratch or aberration upon the wall the old man pulled back his fist and struck again, the thud of fist and bone striking a solid wall once again echoing throughout the vast, sterile, self-created landscape.

The old woman watched her husband quietly as two punches became twenty and twenty became two hundred. A young man walked up beside her as she did so. His short black hair, sky-blue eyes and stocky, muscular frame made him appear as if he could be the older man's grandson.

"He's actually doing it!" The young man said as he observed the older man's efforts in wonderment. "We're actually going to get out of here!"

The old woman couldn't resist chuckling at the young man's eagerness. "I'm surprised Alex isn't here to see this."

"Yeah," the boy replied. "I don't think he'd want to miss this."

When the woman spoke to the younger man again, it was with a tone of earnest compassion and worry. "Please make certain he doesn't do anything too rash, Clark. I know my husband means well but I'm still not certain whether or not what he may be biting off more than he can chew."

"I will," the young man replied earnestly.

The old woman turned to look the young man directly in the eyes. "And you take care of yourself too."

Clark smiled tenderly. "I'll make you proud, Lois."

The old man's knuckles were beginning to crack and bleed but he continued his onslaught with the determination and diligence that had been handed down to him by those that had raised him and those that watched him become the greatest hero that any world had ever known. The wall continued to splinter and weaken, each blow further increasing the aperture until fragments of glittering crystal began to spill onto the ground and cropping around the old man's feet. Finally, he had reached the point where he just _knew_ that the wall would come crashing down with just one more good punch.

The boy knew that as well. "Come on, sir! You know you want to say it!"

The old man slowly turned around, giving the young man a tired, but all too familiar All-American smile. He could recognize the bubbling enthusiasm within the young man's speech and mannerisms. After all, it was the same way he would have reacted had he been sixty years younger.

"All right, young man."

The old man bent back his right shoulder once again, focusing every ounce of his phenomenal strength and speed into one final haymaker. The punch shattered the wall to pieces, leaving a dimensional portal that the old man hoped would be the key to saving everything he had ever held dear.

"THIS LOOKS LIKE A JOB FOR SUPERMAN!" Kal-L cried.


	21. How to Counter a Counteroffensive

Issue #21

How to Counter a Counteroffensive

Batman watched his handiwork with the aid of his extensive array of surveillance equipment scattered throughout the world. As the rubble from the top ten floors of the Lexcorp offices began to harmlessly topple down to the street below, the man rubbed the fingers and thumb of his right hand against the accumulated stubble of hair on his chin. He couldn't have asked for better results from Robin. She had made certain to situate her ring-created charges so that only the top of the building would take damage. The base of the building was secure enough so that it would remain standing despite the damage. Additionally, since Lexcorp had been working under a skeleton crew ever since the buyout by Talia Al-Ghul the building could be abandoned by the Gotham City Fire Department with minimal trouble and, most importantly, without the loss of any innocent lives.

Lloyd was the first to return, just as Batman had anticipated. The detective turned to see the younger man pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket so he could wipe off the red and black blood that had begun to dry upon his saber. Once his clean-up job was completed the younger man sheathed the sword back into its scabbard before returning Bruce's gaze. He opened his mouth slightly as if he was about to say something but appeared to think better of it and merely nodded.

Stephanie was next. She swooped into the cavern with her usual flamboyance with her body wreathed in green. Waving briefly to Lloyd as she passed him by, she gracefully landed next to Batman. Taking a brief moment to examine her handiwork on the mainframe's visual feed, she turned to her boss and flashed what she hoped to be a cheery smile.

"Building and bad guys go boom," she whispered, hoping to draw a reluctant smile from the face of the dark knight. Despite the circumstances, she very nearly succeeded.

Dick and Kara arrived several minutes later. They both leapt down from the cockpit of the Batplane the moment the cockpit door swung open looking understandably dour.

"All right there, Grayson? Zo'rel?"

They both turned towards the British assassin, each of them with a sharp or sarcastic comment at the ready. Ultimately, however, they too both thought better of it.

"Uh-huh," Kara muttered.

"I'll live," replied Nightwing. "You?"

"Still breathin'."

Lloyd nodded. For now, that was all that Lloyd and Richard needed to say to one another.

"The real battle begins now, ladies and gentlemen," Batman said sternly. Though he was still wearing his traditional black and blue armor, cape, and cowl, the younger fighters could see another suit of mechanized armor standing by the mainframe. "We may have done a good job stirring the hornet's nest but it's going to take a bit of luck and a lot of effort to get back out of the hive."

"You know, I don't know about you guys but I've never been a big fan of hornets," Stephanie mused. "I mean, it's not like I've ever had any personal bad experiences with them but that bug in the Cheerios commercial always creeped me out."

"The Cheerios mascot is a bee, you twit," Lloyd said irritably.

"Really?" Stephanie asked as she cocked her head in thought. "Well, then I guess I've got nothing against hornets. The metaphor still sucks though."

Lloyd groaned. He simply didn't have the energy to endure yet another nonsensical argument with Stephanie. However, the others, including Alfred, all smiled politely at Robin's attempt at levity.

"That being said," Batman interrupted. "I know the four of you know the plan and I know that you're all capable of carrying it out. You wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could."

"Well, look at Bats here havin' faith in us an' all?" Lloyd drawled. He may not have had the desire to bicker with Stephanie but that didn't mean that he couldn't work himself to razz his boss. "Looks like someone's been stockin' up on his motivational speeches while we're out doin' the leg work."

"Talk about the blind leading the blind," Stephanie added. "Or maybe the head asylum inmate leading the loonies."

Kara, despite the turbulent churning within her own mind and heart, suddenly thought of a blind-folded Batman standing behind a lectern while the four of them ran about in lab coats and crashed into rubber walls. The off the wall image caused her to laugh and laugh heartily, despite the fact that it was quite the social faux pas. Kara's outburst quickly drew Batman's anger but as he saw the look on the young Kryptonian's face he found that he had to bring his right hand to his mouth in order to keep himself from laughing as well. Of course, seeing Batman laughing broke down Stephanie's defense, which, in turn, broke Lloyd's. Nightwing looked amidst the four displays of insanity and shook his head back and forth before joining in the misplaced merriment.

"And so they laughed the laughter of the damned," said Alfred Pennyworth. As per usual, the gentlemen's gentlemen had little trouble keeping a straight face. "Or at least that of the mentally unsound."

The five fighters began to recollect themselves as they each turned towards the caretaker of Wayne Manor.

"Is everything prepared, Alfred?" Bruce asked calmly.

"Yes, Master Bruce. I presume you wish for me to take my leave?"

"Please. And be careful."

"The same to all of you," Alfred replied as he slowly moved into the darker recesses of the Batcave. He acknowledged the silent goodbyes of the others with a nod, lingering momentarily to take a final glance at the five good people he was leaving behind before he continued to walk away.

Nightwing was the last to tear himself away from Alfred. "Anything else, Bruce? I'm guessing it's almost show time."

"Just this." Batman looked at his four partners each in turn. "I've grown long tired of losing people that I care about or those that I could grow to care about. Though it isn't my intention to place any unnecessary pressures on any of you, I would like to say that I would be very disappointed if any of you chose to die on me today. I'm sure you've all noticed that I don't take disappointment very well."

Dick, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie all nodded.

* * *

Noah Kuttler and Slade Wilson dully observed the pandemonium going on around them. It had taken some quick thinking and quicker moving on the part of Black Adam and Slade to get the six members of the inner circle away from the bomb blasts. However, the narrow getaway had hardly abated the raging frustrations of both Adam and Doctor Psycho.

"The time for clandestine strikes and covert operations is at an end!" Adam's voice was rife with anger and his entire body crackling with energy. "That stinking little bag of meat believes he can strike us within our own base of operations and not endure the repercussions? I will not tolerate this repugnant affront!" He turned to Luthor in fury. "Luthor! Give me control of our army and I will guarantee the heads of our enemies on a platter."

"You can have their heads, thunderbutt," Doctor Psycho added. "I never liked eating flesh off the skull. In fact, just give me their spleens, their livers, and some Worchestire sauce and you can keep everything else." The diminutive telepath and psychopath was quite fortunate that Adam was far too enmeshed in his own anger to pay attention to the sarcastic asides of others.

"Forget your grand plans! Forget your lofty ambitions of a world without heroes!" Adam exclaimed. "If we do not eliminate the Batman and prove that we cannot be stopped then we will be unable to hold the position of integrity we require in order to remain an army! I demand that you give me every man and woman available so that I may raze Wayne Manor to the ground and incinerate every soul inside of it."

Despite the volume and intensity of Adam's passionate entreaties, Lex Luthor didn't quite seem to register his demand. In fact, he appeared to be quite lost within his own thoughts. He shook his head and ran his fingers over the nasty-looking scratch upon his forehead. Apparently he had failed to dodge all of the shrapnel from the bomb blast. He took several moments to gaze at the dabble of scarlet at his fingertips.

"Yes, yes," he said distractedly. "Go deal with him. There are more important matters that I must attend do."

Lex teleported away, seemingly unworried whether or not his associates understood or approved of his behavior. Noah, Slade, and Talia stood quietly, perturbed by this display of anomalous behavior. Even Adam and Psycho were momentarily taken aback but they were quick to regain their fury.

"Enough with this!" said Black Adam. "We don't need Luthor for this! He is no soldier!"

Talia turned towards the lord of Kahndaq. "Teth Adam. You possess all this wisdom and yet you fail to see what is in front of you. The Batman will anticipate your actions and take measures to overcome your offensive. Even if you do succeed a frontal assault against such a calculating foe will garner many losses; losses that we cannot afford to garner in our tenuous position."

"Hang your ludicrous judgments and presumptions, Al-Ghul!" Black Adam roared. "Your discretion and hesitance is clearly nothing more than a desire to protect your so-called beloved!"

"There is no hesitancy here, Teth Adam," Talia said coldly. "Only the wisdom and experience of a warrior who knows well enough not to rush into unfamiliar battlegrounds. Wisdom that you should also be able to employ if it were not currently blinded by your foolish pride and worthless anger." The head of the League of Assassins took in the murderous glare of the demigod and rolled her eyes. "Rest assured, Adam. I will not criticize your motivations or your actions any further. However, I do reserve the right to remind you that I knew that you would fail."

"Yeah, well I reserve the right to have you tied to my bedpost once this is all over," Psycho said with a sordid leer before patting Adam on the leg. "Let's get going, pointy ears! I'll call the cavalry and tell 'em we got blood to spill."

Adam and Psycho flew off to marshal their forces. Talia teleported away, a brief nod to Noah and Slade serving as her goodbye. In the span of a mere ten minutes it appeared that the inner circle of the Secret Society was no more.

Unless you counted Noah and Slade.

"So," the Calculator began after taking several moments to soak in the recent drama. "Will you be joining our angry compatriots in what will doubtlessly be a failed assault?"

Deathstroke sighed, removing his mask so he could run an aged but strong hand through his iron-gray hair. "Well, Kuttler. I tell you, it's awfully tempting but I think I'll pass. Quite frankly, I've had my fill of stupid decisions for a good long while. Besides, it's quite obvious that I no longer have to pretend that I wish to rule the world."

"You're certain?" Noah asked with an upraised eyebrow. "Not your decision of not wanting to rule the world, mind you but I imagine that this would be an opportune time for you to challenge Batman once again."

Slade was polite enough not to scoff at the suggestion. "Make no mistake, Noah. I will get my share of blood back from the detective and his associates. However, I have no desire to seek it in all of this. I prefer it to be on my own terms."

Noah found that he could understand that. "Rose is still in Bludhaven. I can provide you with a secure communication line if you'd wish to speak with her."

"That won't be necessary, Noah. I'll be going there myself." Slade extended his hand. "You just make sure to watch your ass and get out of this alive, Calculator. It'd be a damn shame if we lost another real professional in all this mess."

"The same to you, Slade." Noah replied while shaking Slade's hand.

"So where are you headed off to from here, Kuttler, if you don't mind my curiosity."

Noah couldn't help but notice that although Slade was speaking with him, it was quite likely that Slade was already determining the best way to get back to Bludhaven. "I still have several matters that require attending to before I can depart." The Calculator took another lingering look up at the smoldering remnants of the Lexcorp office building while he smoothed out the wrinkles on his plain white business shirt. "However, I assure you that I have no more desire to stay here a moment longer than I have to. I must say though, this wasn't how I imagined it working out."

"Look on the bright side, Kuttler. You're still breathin'."

With that, Deathstroke the Terminator took his leave. Noah watched him go, his hands unconsciously going about the task of cleaning his spectacles.

"That, my friend, may be quite subject to change."

* * *

Bruce Wayne, Kara Zo'rel, Lloyd Thomas, Richard Grayson, and Stephanie Brown, a motley crew if there ever was one, stood together in the front atrium of Wayne Manor.

Lloyd lazily spun his saber with his left hand while grasping a Thangaarian energy rifle in his right.

Batman was once again entrenched in a suit of battle-armor equipped with all the technological wonders that Waynetech could provide.

Despite his father's urgings, Nightwing opted to stay in his regular fighting uniform. However, he held his escrima sticks in his hands and the compartments of his utility belts were loaded with all kinds of incapacitating devices.

Stephanie had her Robin costume and her ring and that was all she needed. Kara was in a similar situation although sans power ring and about a yard and a half of clothing material.

None of them had any inclination to run. After all, where would they go?

Lloyd frowned at his rifle before breaking the silence. "Just want to throw this one out 'ere 'fore this all gets started. So what does everyone think 'bout those old cowboy movies when all the white hats stand together waiting for a whole bunch of bad guys to come and kill them?"

Nightwing nodded, immediately recognizing the classic movie cliché. "But somehow, someway, the heroes overcome the immeasurable odds and triumph?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I always thought it was kind of trite."

"_So_ unoriginal," Stephanie added.

Kara shook her head, the silliness of it all momentarily distracting from the fact that her hands were shaking. "You know? If we get out of this, I need to get out more just so I can figure out what the hell you guys are talking about."

"There you go, pet." Lloyd said. "Ya got somethin' to shoot for."

"Sonar is picking up multiple targets," Batman interrupted. "Eighty-two signals in total."

"Eighty-five." Lloyd corrected. "Looks like some of them can sneak through your radar."

"It's actually ninety."

Lloyd and Batman both turned and gave angry looks to the young Kryptonian who had corrected them.

"What?" Supergirl asked innocently.

"Can we put a moratorium on counting the exact number of people that are going to kill us?" Nightwing asked.

"Here they come," Batman said. "Stick to the plan!"

Nearly the entire front wall of Wayne Manor was reduced to shambles as several dozen villains stormed inside, each and every one of them with murder on their mind. Solomon Grundy, Star Sapphire, The Weather Wizard, Cheetah, General Eiling: one after the other pouring into the esteemed home of the dark knight.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor, kiddies!" Stephanie shouted over the booms and crashes. "Sorry if we didn't get any sample platters prepared but rest assured we do have somethin' we can offer to ya!"

Bruce, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie greeted their guests with a torrent of energy fire that swept through the swarm of villains. Some of them were stern enough or capable of defending themselves enough so that they could survive the maelstrom of energy but quite a few of them were not as lucky.

Nightwing was the first to enter the fray once the initial assault had died down. He hailed the second wave and what remained of the first wave with gas pellets and flash bombs. Batman and Supergirl were quick to follow, the both of them rushing into the fight and taking on any opponent they could find.

Lloyd and Stephanie remained where they stood, both of them fighting back the inching inclination to jump into the fray. However, the significance of their respective tasks was more than enough to override their instincts. Their patience was rewarded when they were able to deflect a bolt of mystic lightning that would have otherwise burned Nightwing to cinders.

"That's our cue," Robin said, giving Lloyd a sideways glance.

Lloyd was already on the move, teleporting into the path blazed by a haze of black, yellow, and white. Stephanie watched as her friend used the blur's momentum to carry both the blur and himself out of Wayne Manor with a spray of wood and brick. While looking up into the sky, she took her first glimpse at the several dozen Society members that awaited her.

She whistled in an impressed manner.

"All these uninvited guests," Stephanie observed. "And people are always saying that I don't know when to go away!"

* * *

She momentarily turned his attention to the battle on the ground, using her ring to create the construct of a tractor-trailer that she used to run over the gargantuan Amygdala and a slew of other Society measures before taking to the sky.

It had taken over half of a mile before Lloyd could slow Black Adam's momentum to the point where he could even see the infuriated look in the demigod's eyes. Teth Adam was the epitome of calculated fury, a warrior driven by his egotistical necessity to prove that his intentions for the world around him had not been thwarted by the actions of an ordinary human.

"_But he's not gonna be getting Batman." _Lloyd thought sourly. "_He's getting me." _

Black Adam struck first blood, using his marvelous speed to strike Lloyd with a hard punch across the jaw. Lloyd's neck nearly cracked back from the sheer force of the strike but he still had the wits about him to hastily teleport away from the follow-up attack. For better or worse, it was clear that Lloyd had gained Black Adam's attention as the black sheep of the Shazam family turned around, growled in anger, and rushed at him.

In the split second that it took for Adam to catch up with him, Lloyd managed to fire a pulse from his rifle that ineffectually ricocheted off Adam's near-impenetrable frame. The concurrent slash with his saber grazed Adam's muscular chest but did no real damage. The Black Dog was quickly back on the defensive while acknowledging the fact that he was going to have to change his tactics if he wanted to keep his head. He had been wrong to anticipate that he was going to be fighting a soldier. Teth Adam was nothing more than a bull. A fast, smart, powerful, and frightfully competent bull, but a bull nevertheless.

Lloyd fired a blinding blast of energy from his eyes in order to buy the time to toss his rifle aside, making a point to aim for one of the Society members on the ground below. There was no need for technology anymore. Just blood, muscle, and steel. His normally hazel eyes turned a smoky gray as he brought the full focus of his power within him to bear.

_Focus on the enemy. Focus upon the task in front of you._

Lloyd could hear the misty voice of Mao Tenryu calling to him as he brought his blade to the center pivot position.

_Anticipate your opponent's mindset. Examine how they move and act and use their energy against them_.

Adam rushed at him once again with such speed that normally would have forced Lloyd to respond by instinct. Instead, the young man chose to push everything aside and focus on what his opponent was and what he could be. He read the movement, swerved to avoid Adam's punch and countered with a straight jab from each hand and a sidekick to the gut.

_Never allow your enemy to set your pace. No matter how strong or numerous your foes, it is up to you to control how you will act and respond_.

Lloyd was as fluid as the spiraling winds around him as he sent the heel of his right foot crashing into Adam's jaw. The thunder-fueled warrior countered with a left hook that merely glanced off Lloyd's left shoulder. The minimal damage eliminated the time of recovery and Lloyd was able to use his momentum to add speed to a spinning lash with his saber that sliced across Adam's right quadriceps.

_I have watched you become a warrior over these past few years, Lloyd. You've become stronger and faster, embracing the power that was ingrained into you instead of being ashamed that it was bestowed upon you_.

Lloyd ducked under another ferocious haymaker and responded with a blast of yellow energy that slammed into Teth Adam's gut. Lloyd chased after the hurtling emperor and attempted to follow up with a kick to the side of the neck but the leader of Kahndaq caught the blow and countered with a double-fisted blow into his gut. Lloyd felt the wind escape from him and his ribs straining from the impact but he kept his eyes upon his opponent.

_There is not a single doubt in my mind that the only person in this world that can stop you from becoming something truly outstanding is yourself. You cannot allow your past to dominate your present and interfere with your future. Embrace what you were, glean from it what you can, and use what you have gathered to make yourself become something better than you ever imagined. _

A lash of his blade and another blinding shot ground Adam's renewed offensive to a halt and bought him the time to plan his next maneuver.

_The crimes done to you were vile and should not have been brought upon anyone, let alone a child. However, for you to become who you need to be you must hold those atrocities with gentle hands. Nurture them and work so that no one will have to endure what you have. Defend the weak by becoming strong enough to do so. _

Lloyd slid the shining saber back into its scabbard and used his gift of teleportation to place himself at Black Adam's back. He wrapped his small, thin hands around the neck of Black Adam.

_I wished I could say that I was the person who could show you the way but that is something I could not do with good conscience. That is why I am sending you to Gotham; so you can learn from the finest warrior that I have ever known. Follow Batman's guidance for he shall teach you how to become all that I could hope for you to be_.

Keeping his hold on Black Adam was the equivalent of riding a bucking bronco bareback. However, as he continued to hold his grip, Lloyd saw the energy around his hands begin to crackle and intensify. He felt the mystic lightning that powered Teth Adam coursing into his hands and throughout the rest of his body. He watched as his opponent's struggles begin to grow weaker.

_Do that and nothing will be able to stop you, my Black Dog_.

Lloyd took the Black Adam's depleted and exhausted body in his arms and teleported down to the ground. Even through the nobleman's self-righteous anger, he could sense the nobility in the man and had no real desire to eliminate this strong but wayward soul. After placing Adam safely on the ground he set to the sky once again. After all, there were several dozen flying foes still up for grabs and there was only one lonely, loud-mouthed little blonde getting all the good scraps.

He may have just had an epiphany about how he wanted to live his life but Lloyd still wasn't about to let Steph have all the fun.

* * *

Batman was generally against the idea of being overly confident before the battle was done. Nevertheless, even he had to admit that everything was going according to plan.

He kept one eye on the rampaging Solomon Grundy while briefly casting his other eye on Nightwing, watching as his former partner sent Doctor Alchemy tumbling to the floor with a leaping kick. As the telekinetic struggled to get to his feet, Dick snatched the Philosopher's Stone from the villain with one hand and knocked him out with the other. It was Nightwing's job to run interference and to distract their many opponents while he and Kara carried out the main offensive and Dick had carried out his part of the plan to near-perfection. Despite the volatility of the combat zone, Dick was also finding the time to generate some snappy battle chatter that he directed both to Bruce as well as the many people who currently wanted his head on a platter.

Batman tried to ignore the ridiculous chatter, just like he did back then. And just like he did back then, he just couldn't quite manage it.

Blurs of red, blue, and gold and the scattering of opponents were all that could signal Kara's efforts. With two other aerialists at his disposal, Batman had elected to utilize Kara's raw power over her speed and assigned her to stay within the narrower confines of the battle within Wayne Manor. It had been a prudent decision that resulted in the enormously powerful teenager taking down one Society member after the other. It was quite safe to presume that her previous timidity and indecision had been blunted by the magnitude of the situation at hand. Taking another fleeting glance at the look of resolute determination on Kara's young face and the chilly glare given off by her icy-blue eyes Batman realized that he had chosen wisely.

He had tried not to pay attention to the battle in the sky. He'd like to think that it was because of the chaos around him but he was smart enough to know better. With Lloyd taking on Black Adam and the many airborne opponents in the sky, the airborne battle was clearly the riskiest variable. Still, he smiled and felt an inkling of hope as Stephanie took down Giganta with a blast right between the eyes. The blast was a stunning pulse bolt that sent the skyscraper-sized Amazon crashing to the ground with an impact that shook the ground and distracted a number of their grounded opponents.

The moment the numbers game had become too much for Robin was the moment that Lloyd stepped into the fray. After scattering some of Doctor Sivana's robots with a series of energy blasts the two began to soar through the sky in a closely knit formation. The two of them fought as if they had spent years fighting alongside one another. They carefully picked their shots, they made certain to never stay in one place to long and if one of them was attacking then the other one would be defending.

Batman's source had informed him of the number of Society members that had answered Black Adam's call and it wasn't difficult at all to anticipate their collective state of mind. They were angry, unfocused, and emotionally hampered with the sudden sensation that their foes were not as unprepared as their leaders had claimed they would be. The massive initial display of firepower not only served to thin out the ranks but also to further deplete the weakening resolve of the formerly unstoppable army.

They wouldn't win this battle with power. The Society had that in amounts that he couldn't hope to achieve. They could only win with fear and fear was something that Batman knew as well as anyone.

All sound strategy aside, the Society's numbers were still vast and frightfully powerful. Although Batman's team had taken down a sizeable amount of the Society's forces there were still many more to take their place. His troops did not share that same luxury. In fact, they had already spent the last 12 hours fighting one battle after the other.

The blasts from Stephanie's ring had become dimmer and less pronounced. His own battle armor had acquired an uncomfortable amount of wear and tear and Nightwing's bag of tricks was bound to be running low. Kara and Lloyd appeared to still be faring well but Batman knew that the wounds they had acquired during the battle on the Brother Eye satellite had yet to fully heal.

The Society would soon overwhelm them.

Fortunately, Batman had anticipated that too.

"Fourth and long, team." Batman said into his communicator.

Upon hearing her boss's simple statement, Stephanie let loose a hearty roar while she concentrated what little energy left within her ring and transformed it into an enormous blast that scattered the many foes around her. Of course, that last-ditch effort left her with no way to stay airborne and thus she began to fall. Fortunately, Stephanie's last-ditch effort had also freed up Lloyd, who was more than happy to lend an arm in return. Meanwhile, back on the ground, Kara broke away from her multiple engagements, bowled over Killer Frost, wrapped up Nightwing in one arm, twisted around, wrapped Batman in her other arm and knocked down Solomon Grundy as she shot out of Wayne Manor.

It took several tenths of a second for the five tired fighters to travel a thousand feet away from Wayne Manor. While their many opponents took the time out to ponder this unexpected turn of events, Batman pulled out another detonator from his utility belt and pressed the button.

Batman watched his childhood home explode.

* * *

The pristine, sun-dappled Gotham countryside was a sharp contrast from the smoldering remains of Wayne Manor standing only five miles away. It appeared that the remaining members of the Society did not wish to continue the battle and the tired group of crime fighters had no qualms against sitting down for a spell.

Bruce stared at the blackened remnants of his home through his high-end binoculars, his attention momentarily wrapped around yet another tragic and personal image that personified the price of his victories against the Society. He knew there was still more to do but he found himself having a great deal of difficulty turning away from the destruction before him. His reveries were finally broken by a firm hand squeezing his shoulder. Letting out a tired sigh, Batman turned to Nightwing and gave him a confident nod that his former ward was happy to return.

"Great! I'm technically homeless again!" Stephanie exclaimed. "Who the hell thought it was a great idea to blow up our house?"

"Since when have you ever been against watching something blow up?" Lloyd asked his fuming companion.

"Well, I'm against it when the thing that's getting blown up is something of mine!" Stephanie shouted.

"I don't recall you having anything of yours within the manor, Miss Stephanie." Alfred pointed out, a statement that earned him a pointed glare from Stephanie and sniggers from Kara and Lloyd. "Have no fears, Miss Stephanie. This is hardly the first time the manor has been burnt to the ground, after all."

"You mean this has happened before?" Kara asked.

"Watching Wayne Manor being burnt to the ground is sort of a rite of passage around here," said Nightwing. "Welcome to the gang, kiddies."

"Well, I don't know 'bout the rest of you," Lloyd said as he wiped a bit of blood from his nose, "but I'd rather mourn the passing of our home from a hotel suite after 'bout a week of sleep."

"Hear, hear." Stephanie agreed.

"Sounds good to me." Kara chimed in.

"I quite agree," Alfred added.

Batman's statement was equally resolute. "Let's get moving, team. We've got another job to do."

"WHAT?!" The four youngest members of the group each squawked almost simultaneously.

Batman ignored his teammates' rightful indignation. "Our source has just located Lex Luthor. He's currently hiding in the ruins of Superman's former Fortress of Solitude in the Antarctic. There's also a constant, residual series of radio waves emanating from that location and several of them are startlingly similar to the frequencies employed by the Brother Eye satellite to coordinate the O.M.A.C. activity."

"Bloody hell, boss!" Lloyd shouted. "Can't we just call Supertwit or the Jackoff League and let them go take care of it? Ain't like we haven't done enough already!" The others all nodded in agreement, including Nightwing.

Batman smiled thinly at the frustration of his compatriots but continued to stand firm. "As long as Luthor remains free, the Society will still have a leader. They will still have someone who can rally the troops that are still willing to fight. Though we may have done our damage today the Society still has enough numbers to be a significant threat if it remains unchecked."

That argument seemed to satiate Nightwing but the three younger members of the group continued to complain and bemoan their fate. "Leave it to you to use logic to try and convince us to do something," Stephanie huffed resentfully.

"Well, let's put it this way then," said Nightwing. "After all that Lex and his boys have put you through do you _really_ want somebody else taking him down for the count?"

That query was far more motivating for the dissenting troops. Recognizing his former partner's success, Batman turned towards Dick to thank him but Nightwing merely winked at his father and held up a hand to cut Batman off from any further response.

"I know all of you are tired." Batman said. "We're all tired of the bloodshed, the fighting, and the insanity of it all. I've asked all of you to do things that I never would have wanted to ask of anyone but all of you have pulled yourselves through and for that you should be proud. However, the battle isn't over and it remains my responsibility to see to the fight until the end and I need all of you to help me see things through. Dick, Kara, Lloyd, Stephanie. Please. We only have a little more to go before it's over. I know it. I can feel it. Help me see it through."

Nightwing had already been persuaded to follow Batman well before this honest plea for assistance. But for Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie, three people that had spent their entire lives seeking the approval of those that they came to care about, Batman's entreaty was all they needed to hear to convince them and then some. Lloyd gave Batman his usual brash grin and twisted his neck in order to work out the kinks from the previous battles. Kara made several steps forward as if she was going to give Batman a hug but thought wiser of it and instead chose to flash a brilliant smile at the dark knight.

Stephanie, on the other hand, chose to give her boss a sour frown before turning towards Alfred.

"Please tell me you got my power battery out of the Batcave," she asked.

"Of course, Miss Stephanie. I trust you will be needing it immediately?"

Stephanie turned back to Batman, shaking her head while pondering the sheer gravity of the situation around them.

"Apparently so."


	22. Good and Bad Intentions

Issue #22

Good and Bad Intentions

"Well, this definitely beats being carried for 7,000 miles." Nightwing said as he looked down at the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean from a height of nearly 40,000 feet. "I don't know about you but flying always seemed to make me chafe in the most uncomfortable of places."

Dick was not surprised to see that his father chose not to respond to his admission. Nor was he the least bit astonished by the discovery that the apparent destruction of the Batcave and all the vehicles inside of it did little to impact Batman's ability to get where he needed to be. Batman's current vehicle of choice was a real beauty: an iron-gray mammoth of an air carrier that was at least 150 feet long and sporting enormous propulsion engines clustered throughout the rear and the underside.

"Nice ship by the way," Nightwing said.

"I was planning on giving it to you for a birthday present," Batman quipped. Apparently he was listening to Dick's inane attempts to humor himself after all.

Nightwing glowered in response. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want any more of your gifts?"

"And yet you never seem to complain about getting another ship from me after you or one of your teammates crash the last one I gave you into the ground." Batman said neutrally while Nightwing rolled his eyes in a somewhat childish manner. "Well, I think Harper would have certainly appreciated the gesture," the older detective added.

"Then maybe you should have invited him over instead." Nightwing parried with a crooked grin.

The former dynamic duo sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, a blessed relief from the havoc and tension of the last 13 hours.

"Has your new computer guru gotten back to you with any details about what's going on up here?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing more valid or probable than anything I can assume. Be that as it may, it would be safe to say that we will have our work cut out for us. Luthor would not have retreated to this location if he hadn't already installed significant security measures to protect himself."

Batman's theory was quickly revealed to be true when the carrier's radar picked up a pair of signatures heading straight towards them at an unsettling rate of speed. While Nightwing worked to identify these unknown soon-to-be visitors Batman pressed a button above him to activate the overhead speakers situated all over the aerial juggernaut. "All hands, we have unidentified, possibly hostile targets on the near horizon. Prepare for possible combat situation."

"I suddenly feel like Lieutenant Sulu," Nightwing murmured as he continued his attempts to get more information on whoever was coming after them. Like it or not, if there was going to be some kind of hostile confrontation Nightwing knew he'd have to leave it to the three youngsters. After all, Dick knew he hardly had a great deal of fighting options available to him when he was four miles above the ground.

Dick's search was interrupted when he caught a familiar looking flash of red, blue, and yellow from outside that brought a grin to his face. It was a sight that he had witnessed dozens upon dozens of times during the 17 years he had dedicated his life to fighting crime. It was a sight that had instilled hope and certainty within him to a degree that even his father could not accomplish. Yes, there was no doubt that he would have something to say about the events of the past few hours (if he knew about them). In spite of this worry, Nightwing knew if anybody could lend them a helping hand, it was Superman.

Only it wasn't Superman. Not quite. Most of the familiar aspects were there: the muscular frame, the unshakable aura of composure, and the look of stern determination carried by sky-blue eyes were all there. However, this man appeared to be several decades older than the figure of truth and justice that Dick had come to know. His arms and torso were stockier, his prominent chin and chiseled cheekbones were accentuated by wrinkles obviously brought about by the effects of time and his jet-black hair was speckled with gray.

As if to add on to the improbability of the situation around them another man who appeared to be Superman was floating alongside him. This one however looked to be no older than a teenager and was thin to the point of gangly. It was as if the Last Son of Krypton had taken a dip in the Fountain of Youth and emerged a young man that had taken a stiff left jab from puberty. The familiar spit curl still draped over the apex of the young man's forehead and he wore the familiar red-and-blue S emblem that had been plastered all over Dick's pajamas when he was ten years old (much to Bruce's consternation). However, what had truly drawn Dick's attention was the look in the young man's blue eyes: a concentrated, fierce stare that Dick would have never associated with the Man of Steel that he had fought alongside on so many occasions. It was an intense gaze that caused Nightwing to develop a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of his already arctic belly.

"Identify yourself," the Batman said sternly, remarkably unruffled at the sight before them.

The stern baritone that was Batman's voice seemed to trouble the older man far more than it should have. "I had hoped that you would be a friend Bruce, at least eventually. I prayed that I could prove Alexander wrong, that you could overcome the darkness in this world but it's clear that I was mistaken. It would have been nice, though. The world's finest working together again." The old man spoke in a sad but serene manner in a volume that would have been impossible for Batman or Nightwing to hear if not for the exterior sound sensors placed at the front of the ship.

"Does anybody have any idea who this is supposed to be or what this is about?" Nightwing whispered.

Batman shook his head, but his eyes remained fully focused at the two Supermen hovering in front of him. He hoped that Lloyd was perceptive enough to be reading his thoughts as he thought out the order to prepare for battle.

"I was hoping that you and I could bring back my own world, a place where people could still see the light at the end of the tunnel. On my Earth, we wouldn't need a satellite in the sky to know what people that should be our allies are doing. You wouldn't need protocols to protect yourself from friends and enemies alike. We believed in one another, Bruce. Why couldn't you hold onto that?"

"His Earth?" Nightwing asked in a absolutely perplexed fashion. "Just what the hell is going on here?"

The old man focused his gaze upon Nightwing now, the profoundly poignant look in his eyes causing Batman's former partner to be momentarily taken aback by the emotion present there. "Changes have to be made, Dick. Alexander was right. We saved the wrong Earth. In order for everything to be made right, we need to bring back Earth-1. We have to bring it back even if that means we have to erase this planet to do it."

"Okay," Nightwing said as his intrigue and curiosity gave into alarm in an instant. "I've got the sneaking feeling that these guys don't want us over for coffee."

Batman did not even bother to be subtle about his actions. His voice blasted over the intercom. "Black Dog! Robin! Supergirl! Get ready!"

The three young heroes were out of the craft in an instant and charging at the two Kryptonians. The younger Superman responded in kind, an unsightly sneer upon his fair face as he moved to meet them with an animalistic roar. As the two sides began to clash, Kal-L cast his head downward and gave an honest prayer for the people that he would have to sacrifice to restore peace to everything. Then he remembered what he had to do and he joined the battle as well.

* * *

None of the three tired teenagers were in any kind of condition to engage in such a heated conflict as the one set before them. Nonetheless, the three of them were still putting up an impressive showing. The girls had each made a beeline for the Supermen with Kara confronting the elder and Stephanie going after the younger one. Lloyd wisely remained in between, teleporting back and forth between both skirmishes and stepping into whatever conflict he felt he could be of the most use. As the minutes wore on, the fatigued youngsters each began to think that they may very well had the possibility of winning.

"Are you the one behind all of this? Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Kara exclaimed as she swung at Kal-L with such force that enormous gusts of wind followed her swinging fists and cut through the Antarctic currents.Despite the ferocity of Kara's punches, Kal-L appeared to have no trouble at all dodging each and every one. "I was hoping I could save you as well, Kara Zo'rel. I watched your struggles and sympathized with your need to fit in and find your place in this dark and dangerous world." The old man effortlessly blocked Supergirl's fast jabs for a moment longer before firing back with a stiff left jab that nearly broke Kara's nose. "But what you did to Grodd makes you no better than Bruce. Instead of shining a light upon this world you chose to embrace the darkness around you."

Seeing that she was getting nowhere, Kara backed away from her older adversary.

Kal-L did not pursue. "I was clouded by the memories I had of who you once were. The person you were before everything became awful."

The elder Kryptonian's words hit Kara harder than any of his punches could have. She felt the blood trickle from her nose as her jaw went slack and her doe eyes widened. She remained motionless despite the violence surrounding her.

"Who I once was? Do you know about my past? Please! Tell me!"

Kal-L's response was a blast of heat vision that poured from his eyes. Kara was a split second to slow in anticipating it thus her counter shot met Kal-L's a mere several feet from her eyes.

"I know everything about you, Kara." Kal-L said as he poured on the power. "You're precisely like everything else here; so wrapped up in the darkness inside of you that you don't know where to go." The rivaling blasts were moving closer and closer to Kara, inch by inch. "It hurts my heart to do this, Supergirl, but you simply don't belong here."

The gravity of the old man's words caused Kara to flinch for only the slightest moment. The distraction was all that was needed for her to lose her concentration to the point where Kal-L's heat vision overcame her own. However, she suffered from the heat and the agony only for a moment before Kal-L's own stream of energy was redirected by a blur of black and silver that barreled into Kal-L's gut.

As cautious as she was about him, Kara realized that Lloyd Thomas had a knack for making timely rescues.

While Lloyd and Kal-L fought hand-to-blade, Kara took the moment of relief to stare at the old man. That was her cousin. Maybe not _her _cousin but every whit of her highly attuned senses was screaming to her that it was him. He said that he had seen the shadows within her, the shadows that had loomed in the back of her mind ever since she had awakened from her escape craft many months ago. It was these menacing sensations that had blazed maddeningly and threatened to overflow her wits and senses when she took Grodd's life with her own two hands.

Kara was quick to shake these disturbing thoughts aside. It wasn't the time for her to pay them any significant attention. Clark had taught her to value the world she had adopted as her home and Bruce had taught her that doing so often meant that you had to sacrifice a bit of yourself. Still, as she charged forward to provide Lloyd a much-needed dose of assistance, Kara wondered, and not for the first time, about just how bad of a person she was and how bad of a person she used to be.

* * *

"Soooo, tell me. Which designate junior superhero name do you go by?" Robin asked tartly as she flew upward to dodge an undisciplined but lethal looking uppercut. "Supertwit Jr.? Kid Spitcurl? The Ambiguously Gay Boy Scout?" Robin punctuated each unflattering moniker with a twist and a turn to avoid the young man's anger-fueled attacks.

"I'm Superboy!" The young man replied with a mixture of a shout and a furious scream as he shot a blast of heat vision from his eyes.

Robin was quick to create a shield that she used to deflect the blast. She was only mildly disconcerted when the blast she fired back in return did equally little damage. "You do realize that name is already taken, right? I mean, I realize that may sound a titch hypocritical coming from me but I'd probably be on the lookout for copyright infringement lawsuits if I were you."

"I'm Superboy Prime! The _real_ Superboy!"

The teenage Kal-el wasted no time continuing his quest to chase Robin down. He hammered Stephanie's force bubble with such force that the young woman had to will herself from keeling over from the sheer agony of the neurological feedback she endured to keep herself away from the rampaging alien. Stephanie responded with a blinding flare of green energy that disoriented the mighty teenager and allowing her a window of time she could use to recuperate.

"Oh, the _real _Superboy!" Stephanie said derisively. "Well, why didn't you just say so? And here I was thinking you were just some agitated wannabe world destroyer who had a bad experience at a costume store!"

Stephanie knew that some people, including her lovably psychotically obsessed boss, often viewed her banter during battle as worthless but there was, in fact, a purpose to it more often than note. In this instance, she was using it both to find additional time to recover as well as to find out more information. "So tell me, The _Real _Superboy," she said with a sneer, "just what do you have against this world anyway?"

"Your world is twisted and filthy!" Superboy Prime bellowed as he tightly balled up his fists. "Do you have any idea how many good people had to die just so that all of you could live? And what did they die for?! A world with a Superboy who has everything in the world but hides in his room the moment that things get to be the least bit difficult! Heroes who destroy the minds of their friends so they don't have to answer to anyone! A Superman who is so weak and afraid to take charge that he lets everything fall down around him?"

The momentary comfort break came to an abrupt end as Superboy Prime charged once again, his speed so impressive that Stephanie could barely make out his movement. As Robin moved to find a way to gain the advantage her opponent continued his sanctimonious talk. "And your boss is the _worst_! Building that satellite and acting no better than the people that he's fighting! None of you are really heroes, you know. Not like I will be! None of you deserve all the gifts and rewards you've been given and I'm tired of watching all of you squander away everything you've been given! I'll show all of you how a real hero is supposed to act!"

Stephanie watched as Superboy Prime began to fly around her in fast, increasingly constricting circles. The sheer force of his velocity nearly caused her eyes to cross.

"You know what, Superboy?" Stephanie said. "It's quite clear to me that you're several forks short of a fondue set."

A hard punch to the back of the head threatened to dim Robin's lights and a double axe-handle across the face sent her hurtling down towards the icy water thousands of feet below. It was only through her blurred concentration and a dabble of luck that Stephanie was able to manipulate her downward momentum to the point where her impact with the water merely hurt like hell instead of killing her outright.

As she watched the sea life around her scatter from the sudden intrusion, Stephanie took stock of what kind of shape she was in and how much time it would take for her ring to make her hale and hearty. Though she not quite capable of determining an exact figure by the time Superboy Prime yanked her out of the water, Robin was relatively certain that it was a moot point given the situation.

"Look at you!" Superboy Prime as he held Stephanie in front of him. "Acting like you're a big shot just because you've got that ring around your finger! Take that away though and what do you get? Just a little girl who can't do anything right!" The teenager said these threats in a tone befitting a schoolyard bully who was quite proud of the fact that he was picking on a child who had no chance of fighting back.

Stephanie swallowed the astonishing amount of pain welling up from her broken ribs and looked directly into Superboy Prime's eyes. She had wanted to spit in his face but discovered the she had just swallowed a bit of sea water and didn't quite have the saliva she needed. "Really?" Stephanie asked with a rebellious air. "That's so sweet of you to notice."

Stephanie fired another lance of energy from her ring. It was an obvious last-ditch showing of defiance. The blast merely washed over Superboy Prime's body, the eldritch energy not doing a hint of damage to him.

Deciding that he had tired of the game, Superboy Prime moved to put an end to his battered adversary. Holding Stephanie with one hand he wrapped his other hand around her neck. As he attempted to choke the life out of the young heroine a flash of black streaked in front of him and he felt a stream of red liquid splash into his eyes. His finely tuned sense of smell informed him that it was his own blood.

The shock of this fact caused Superboy Prime to lose his grip on Stephanie. He turned to his attacker looking utterly astonished by this turn of events.

"You hurt me!"

Lloyd fired an enormous blast of energy that hurt the powerful youngster even more. The southernmost expanses of the Pacific Ocean held little life above the water so the young man had few qualms keeping up the blast until it stretched for several hundred miles. Even from that distance he could still feel the sense of pain and shock coming from the teenaged Kryptonian.

"You know, you're having _way_ too much fun playing the role of timely rescuer." Stephanie pointed out.

"Yeah," Lloyd replied, "but I'd much rather be playin' the role of a person engaged in lewd and public sexual activity." Lloyd replied lewdly.

"Well, don't be looking at me for inspiration," Stephanie fired back. The two partners jokingly sneered at one another before refocusing their attention on the task at hand.

"Right then. That can't have slowed that little wanker down for too long. I'm goin' up after 'im."

As Lloyd moved to do just that, Stephanie could catch a sparkle of violet light in the furthermost corner of her eye.

"SHIT!"

Stephanie pointed her ring at Lloyd and fired. Both she and Lloyd grunted from the impact of a ray of energy colliding with Stephanie's hastily applied force bubble. Two smaller blasts quickly followed the first shot but Lloyd was more than capable of bringing his blade to bear and using it to deflect the shots.

Their attacker was a man who could have been as young as twenty or as old as thirty-five. Regardless of his actual age, it was clear from his creased forehead and jagged features that he had been forced to grow up quickly. He was wrapped within a carapace of yellow body armor that shielded every part of him from view except his chiseled face and long neck. The color of the peculiarly fashioned attire clashed horribly with the man's short, closely cropped red hair but it was quite apparent that the man was hardly looking to make a fashion statement save for the fact that he was a man who valued power and had no inclination of hiding that certainty.

Sweat was pouring from the man's forehead and a thin stream of dried blood marred the man's scalp and forehead as he continued to move towards Lloyd and Stephanie. There was a malicious glint in his green eyes as he fired another shot of energy from his fingertips. Lloyd quickly changed his stance to better prepare himself to deflect this latest series of attacks but Robin zoomed up in front of him and used her ring to block them in his stead.

"Go after Superboy on steroids." Stephanie said as she created a familiar set of claws on her right hand.

"Sure you'll be all right?" Lloyd asked, tensing his muscles as the red-haired stranger fired again.

"This guy looks like he's all energy and long-distance," Stephanie reasoned as both she and Lloyd avoided the attack. "Trust me, energy is something I can handle."

Lloyd needed little convincing and he teleported away in the blink of an eye to confront the rapidly recovering Superboy Prime. With her comrade no longer with her, Stephanie turned her full attention to the latest in what appeared to be a long line of absolute strangers who apparently wanted to kill her.

* * *

After several more highly-pitched minutes of battle and a hasty switch of opponents with Kara, Lloyd couldn't help but notice that they were losing.

The arrival of the third enemy combatant had quickly turned a battle that could have gone either way into a battle that was quickly threatening to become a lopsided affair. Stephanie seemed to be handling Carrot Top all right and both Kara and Lloyd had the necessary talents to take on Superboy Prime. It was the addition of the elder Kryptonian that broke the camel's back.

This Superman was quite unlike anything Lloyd had ever seen before. He was frighteningly strong, astonishingly fast and he fought with a grace and poise that could only be attained through decades of dedicated training and honed from a life of constant combat. In other instances Lloyd would normally be able to circumvent his physical disadvantage with his near-unmatched maneuverability, but the old man simply refused to bite Lloyd's diversionary tricks and tactics as he deftly avoided Lloyd's viper-like strikes.

The words that came from the old man's mouth did not help Lloyd's situation either. "I was hoping that Bruce would be able to help you change your ways." He spoke in a paternal fashion that reminded Lloyd of how Mao Tenryu would speak to him whenever he was dissatisfied with his behavior or performance in battle or on the job. "However, it's clear to me that the damage has already been done. You simply cannot be fixed."

Kal-L thumped Lloyd in the forehead with a hard right hand, the impact of bone meeting bone making the young Brit feel as if his brain was threatening to pop out of his skull. It was only through the aid of the shining saber in his hands that Lloyd was able to defend himself from the old man's attacks. While doing so, Lloyd worked frantically to think of a way to bring down the grizzled warrior. Stephanie lacked the speed and endurance, he lacked the muscle, and Kara lacked the skill. Not one of them was capable of taking this Superman on their own and as long as the old man's two younger assistants were still in the picture, one-on-one scraps were the only option available to them.

"_Or is it?"_ Lloyd thought.

As much time as he had spent under the tutelage of Mao Tenryu it still amazed Lloyd how the answer could just spring up on you. Yes, it was an answer that could very well lead to the complete atomization of the planet if the slightest thing went wrong. _'Still, any port in a storm,' _he figured as he set to the task of finding Kara.

That task didn't take long at all. All he had to do was listen to the sonic booms that resulted from the force of the punches that she was exchanging with Superboy Prime.

"_Zo'rel!" Lloyd said to her telepathically. "Am I the only one noticing that we're losing?"_

"_Uh huh." _Even Kara's mind speech sounded fatigued as she continued to trade blows. _"And I don't mean to sound rude but it doesn't help when I have to fight and carry on a conversation with you at the same time_."

Lloyd could understand that, seeing as how he was currently busy defending himself from Kal-L's tempestuous offensive. _"Well, what if I told you that I just thought of a way to turn the tables?"_

"_Are you kidding?!"_ Despite her precarious position, Kara sounded quite eager. _"I'm all ears!"_

"_That's nice, luv, but 'm gonna need more than ya ears to pull this off? Ready?"_

Kara's zeal gave way to confusion. "_Uh. . ._"

Still, Lloyd chose not to wait for Kara's further permission. He hastily broke away from his engagement with the elder Kryptonian and flew towards the blonde-haired Kryptonian. His entire body took on a lustrous golden sheen of energy and he began to chant.

"_Qua illic est infirmitas una permissum lamina reperio suum vires in iunctum. Duos animus es unus. Duos es unus_."

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Kara screeched as both she and Superboy Prime stood still in the sky. "Hold on a sec!"

Lloyd crashed into her but Kara didn't feel the slightest impact. She frantically looked to and fro, searching for Lloyd while trying to process what had just happened.

Then she felt it.

She could only describe it as an eruption of energy and vigor coursing through every cell in her body. The physiological feedback resulted in a massive display of barely controlled energy that came streaming out of every pore of Kara's body. For the briefest of moments there was nothing but her and what she had become, the environment around her rendered impossible to see through the flares of energy and power.

"What the hell was that?!" Superboy Prime bellowed. It was quite obvious that he was equally taken aback by this unusual turn of events. However, his teenage ego soon overrode his trepidation and he rushed toward Supergirl once again. He struck her with a vicious uppercut that landed precisely upon Kara's small, upthrust chin.

The punch didn't harm Kara in the least. The next rapid-fire series of punches did equally little good as the young man's bony fists all hammered away fruitlessly at Kara's sinuous physique.

"What is this shit?" the young man exclaimed. "How are you doing UNGH!"

Superboy Prime's mystification was cut short by a spinning back fist that connected with the side of his head. The phenomenal impact sent the young man rushing towards the inky blue waters, his limp body spinning like an out-of-control top as he crashed into the ocean with an impact that sent an enormous swell of freezing water into the air.

"_Huh_." Kara thought as she observed her work. _"Cool_."

"'_M inclined to agree, pet._"

Kara yelped.

* * *

Even after two minutes of necessary clarification Kara Zo'rel was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

"_Do you mean to tell me that you merged the both of us together?"_

"_Only temporarily_," Lloyd replied from within Kara's body. _"'S an' old trick cobbled up by a parasitic race a couple light years away from the Alpha Centauri system_._" _Lloyd was about to launch into a further explanation of the origination of the technique but he suddenly realized that wasn't what Kara was looking forward. Another advantage of sharing the same body after all was being able to know what your partner was thinking. "_Long story short, it combines the strength and energy of two people into one body and intensifies it. I can normally control the impact of the spell but I've never done this with somebody **this** powerful before_. . ."

"_You're telling me," _Kara exclaimed. _"I feel like I could blow up the planet if I sneeze too hard! Just how strong are you, anyway?"_

"_This isn't just me, Zo'rel! You've got a lot of power in 'ere yourself!_" Lloyd seemed to hem and haw over what he wanted to say next. "_I know I was kind of rushed but I prolly should 'ave warned you 'bout the part where we have to share each other's thoughts though_."

"_It's okay. I don't suppose you see anything in there that you can help me recognize?" _Kara delivered her request in a whimsical manner but Lloyd could feel the solemnity behind her inquiry.

"_Doesn't work that way, pet. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to lend a hand and 'm seein' lots of flashes and flickers but I can't really tell you much. I will say that it doesn't look too family friendly though."_

"_Yeah. . . Yeah, same on my end too."_

The two unified minds mulled over the fountainhead of new and troubling information that they had both acquired.

"_Look. If we get out of this. . . Maybe if you need an open ear. . ."_

"_Sure. Same here."_

The two shared a moment of silence before Lloyd spoke up once again. _"Right then. You let me take care of makin' sure we don't blow up everything around us and you can take care of the cranky ol' geezer tryin' to off us."_

"Fine by me," Kara said aloud as she dodged another series of punches thrown by the elder Kryptonian. The mixture of her speed and Lloyd's telepathy and battle instincts made Kara feel as if she was watching the fight five seconds before the fight actually began. She easily maneuvered underneath a blast of heat vision before doubling the old man over with a nasty hook to the body. She followed that with a tenacious flood of punches and kicks that punished the old man's arms, legs, chest, and face with every strike. The flurry came to a violent end when the merged form of Kara and Lloyd lashed out with a spinning kick that struck Kal-L in the side of the head and sent him crashing into the ocean below. A spray of water similar to that of Superboy Prime's threatened to soak Kara's long boots.

"Stay down, Superman! I don't want to kill you!" The order was delivered by Kara's voice but the precise wording had come from Lloyd.

The combat veteran ignored the sincere plea as he rose from the water and charged at the fused heroes. It was quite apparent that the old man didn't have the slightest hint of quit within him.

So Kara hammered him with a left hook that sent him crashing into the water once again.

"Stand down, Superman!"

Kal-L rushed at them once again and once again the most acclaimed hero of all time was swatted down. His entire body was suffering and it was only his phenomenal wellspring of will power that kept him from collapsing from the exhaustion and pain. But he couldn't quit. He wouldn't allow anyone to continue to suffer within this hell that had been created. He had to bring back his Earth to save everyone. He had to save. . .

"Clark. . ."

It was nothing but the barest whisper; a worn, trembling murmur of someone struck with the realization that their time was short. He had bore witness to the mad bellows of gods, listened to the authoritative tones of everyone from Churchill to Hitler and drifted off to sleep from the smooth dulcet tones of his adopted mother and father but there was still only one voice that could ever truly stop Kal-L in his tracks.

"Lois."

Kal-L flew away faster than any speeding bullet could ever hope to fly.

* * *

"Okay, I'm all for being confused and acting stupid but I'm tired of getting my ass kicked and not knowing why it's getting kicked!" Stephanie exclaimed as she continued to go shot-for-shot with the copper-haired stranger. "Just what the hell is your deal?"

"I am through enduring your interference!" The young man's reply was muted by the assortment of energy blasts that bombarded against Stephanie's energy shell. "I have spent years formulating my plans to create a perfect Earth and I will not have them undone by a platoon of teenagers and an emotionally-repressed man dressed up in spandex!"

Stephanie pulled herself into a barrel roll that broke her free from the young man's barrage. Her body was soaked with sweat brought about from the exertion of defending herself from her fuming adversary. "Let me tell you, snacky. Take a look at that get-up you're wearing and take the time to really think about whether or not you should be taking potshots at anyone's choice in superhero attire."

Stephanie's joshing only served to infuriate her mysterious attacker. "You think this is a joking matter?" he asked. "This world is falling down around itself due to the crimes and abrasions of good and bad people alike! The only way for peace and prosperity to return to this planet is to eliminate those who would impugn it."

FWAKOOM!

Stephanie was quite thankful that the metal-clad man was suddenly struck in the back by a white-hot laser blast fired from the front aft cannons of Batman's air carrier. Unfortunately, the blast only seemed to anger the young man rather than hurt him. He turned towards the massive craft and screamed an incoherent curse. However, the seemingly blind rage quickly gave way as the red-haired man paused and appeared to take stock of his situation and the suddenly quiet battleground. It was clear that the tide had certainly turned.

"Don't think that this is over, Wayne," the stranger said as he pointed a long finger directly at the man behind his momentary defeat. "I have come too far to be undone by anyone, least of all you!"

Then he was no longer there, not that anyone else was about to complain.

"What exactly were we undoing?"

Okay, maybe Stephanie still had some complaints left in her.

"Holy hopping shit crystals! Is this entire planet suffering from a Prozac shortage?" Though she was floating in the air it was obvious that Stephanie was hopping mad. She turned towards the enormous craft and the two men inside of it. "And just what the hell were you two waiting on? My charred skeleton to be thrown up against your front window?"

"Give us a break, sprout." Nightwing said in an almost jovial manner. "This is a new ship. We had to figure out what all these buttons do!"

"Screw you, Nightthing!" Robin said with an incensed growl. "And am I the only one who didn't have the slightest clue on who the hell any of these people are?"

"Beats me, Girl Wonder." Nightwing replied. "How about you, Batman?"

There was a distinctly pregnant pause between the time Nightwing's question was asked and when Batman chose to answer. It was as if the detective was searching for the right answer to what should have been a very simple question. He felt something tickling at the furthermost recesses of his mind but he found that he simply couldn't reach it.

"No," Batman finally said. "Although I can't help thinking that I should."

Before either Dick or Stephanie could voice their confusion concerning what was admittedly a vague response, Kara flew up beside Stephanie looking far more hale and hearty than she had only moments ago.

"Quite the inspired maneuver there, Black Dog." Batman said.

Kara nodded with a tired huff. "Lloyd says thanks for the compliment and you should remember him for this brilliant idea come Christmas time. He says he wants the first slice of ham out of the oven."

Robin turned from Bruce to Kara while trying to figure out what the hell her partners were going on about. Finally, she shook her head. "You know what? I'm too tired to figure out what's going on so I'm just going to ignore what's happening!"

"What a refreshing turn of events," Nightwing quipped. "How about you guys? Do either of you have any clue as to who these guys are?"

Kara nodded. "Lloyd was able to get inside the old guy's head. His name is Kal-L and he's a Superman from another reality. We were about to follow him to the Fortress of Solitude to get some answers and Lloyd was wondering if you guys wanted to come with."


	23. Puppets and Invisible Strings

Issue #23

Puppets and Imaginary Strings

It was a bit of a tricky task to find a stable landing area for Batman's still shiny new air carrier. Still, with a bit of hasty clearing courtesy of Stephanie's power ring, Batman was capable of bringing his craft down with relatively little trouble. Once that was done, Stephanie went to the task of creating a construct that would enable Batman and Nightwing to keep pace with them on their trip to the long stagnant remains of Superman's former Fortress of Solitude.

Surprisingly, the site appeared to be relatively undisturbed. The larger bits of wreckage had been covered by several layers of frost and snow and the bitterly cold winds swept around and through the mangled but still sturdy bits of broken equipment and alien machinery.

Batman was quick to move forward and examine the wreckage. He had seen a great deal of satellite footage of the sight before him but he found that even the most polished photographic images could not compare to the actual sight of this ruin that was once a haven of advanced science and technology. Though he had abandoned his damaged battle armor in exchange for his usual cape, cowl and Kevlar, the thermal fabrics within his uniform kept him relatively unaffected by the blistering cold.

"I still remember the first time Clark took the Titans up here." Nightwing had moved to stand alongside his father. "Garth spent the entire time trying not to look impressed."

"Arthur would be so proud," Batman said flatly. The detective did not even bother to turn his gaze away from the shattered shards of outerworldly crystal spread all over the ground.

"Wally was running around looking at every single little thing that caught his attention." Dick went on. "I still can't believe Superman didn't try and strangle him. Donna and I were just caught up in the majesty of it all. It's like we couldn't believe that all those wonderful, unbelievable things could all be in just one place."

Batman nodded slowly. In truth, he had reacted in much the same way as Dick and the original Wonder Girl had done. However, he wasn't about to admit to this. While thinking about how to properly respond, the elder detective realized that his son had left somebody out.

"Was Roy with you as well?"

"Yeah. You know, I've never been able to really prove it but I think he stole some stuff."

"Robbing Superman," Batman said with a sigh. "Ollie would be so proud."

"Guys! We've got a Superman sighting!" Stephanie yelled out over her communicator as she flew towards them. "Llokara or Karloyd or whatever we're going to call these two says that he's a couple miles from here. There's an old woman down there with him and apparently she's in rough shape."

Batman gave one last glance at the derelict remains. "Let's see what's going on then. Take us there, Robin."

Kara and Lloyd's fused form awaited them as they arrived at Kal-L's location. Kara's blonde hair was strewn with bits of snow and ice and she swept her fingers through her hair to rid herself of some of it. It would have been foolish to believe that Kal-L was not aware of their presence but his attention was fixed solely upon the shrunken, elderly woman in his arms. He used the fingertips of his right hand to caress the woman's cheek with the utmost tenderness.

Kara was the first to spot the resemblance. "That's. . ."

"Lois." Batman finished. He said the old woman's name with a palpable measure of sorrow though he wasn't entirely certain how this sorrow had been brought about. The unexpected wave of emotions added another litany of questions to the many uncertainties that troubled him. How did Kal-L, as Lloyd had referred to him, know so much about them? Why were these people here? Did he or the younger Kryptonian have anything to do with the Society?

And why did he continue to have the sneaking sensation that he's met these people before?

"Lois. . ." Kal-L's voice was the tiniest of a mutter, a sound that could barely be heard through the pounding winds. "Just hold on a little bit longer. Just give me some more time to figure out what I can do to make things right." He moved to take her into his arms. "Come on. We need to get you back into the heating chamber Alex built. You'll be all right. . ."

Lois Lane-Kent, former ace reporter of the _Daily Star _and one of a mere handful of survivors from a reality ripped asunder looked up at her husband with a knowing grin and the vestige of a twinkle in her hazel eyes. "No, darling. I'm afraid you can't save me this time."

Kal-L shook his head to and fro, his tears momentarily blinding him. "No. No, I can. Just give me a little more time." He choked back a ragged sob as he held her to him. "Don't. . . don't you read the papers? Superma. . . Superman's always supposed to save Lois Lane."

Lois smiled as she raised her quivering right arm to wipe away the tears from her husband's eyes. "Oh, Smallville," Lois said softly. "You just don't understand. I don't _need _to be saved. I'm 81 years old, Clark. We've spent 55 wonderful years together that I wouldn't give away for anything in this or any other world. And as much as I would love to stand beside you, to help you with the burdens you place upon yourself, I simply can't. It's just my time to leave."

"No. . . no." Kal-L whispered. "It's this world's. This horrible, horrible world. I'll find a way to change it. I'll find a way to bring things back to how it should be."

Lois shook her head slowly.

"That world is gone, Clark. That _time _is gone. Our world was never perfect. Nothing is perfect. There will always be good and there will always be evil. That's how we can tell them apart." Lois vaguely felt the splash of a small drop of water crash onto her cheek. "You've spent so much time looking at things through your own eyes that you've forgotten how to look through the eyes of other people. If there's one last thing that you can take from me, just remember how to really use those baby blues. Once you remember how to pull that off, I'm sure you'll know what to do. You always have."

Lois Lane-Kent took her final breath on the frigid plains of the Antarctic Circle. It was a slow, content exhalation of relief that could only be manifested by a soul that has obtained an unshakeable state of serenity. That diminutive exhalation seemed to draw in the breath of the five strangers standing nearly thirty yards away. For Kal-L, Clark Kent, her loving husband, something far more significant had been robbed from him. He had lost a part of him that tied him to the good man that he had become. The loss was nothing more than a profound violation that brought about nothing more than abject pain and torture to a man who least deserved such a horror.

Kal-L's scream of anguish caused the mighty glaciers around him to crack and crumble.

* * *

Noah Kuttler had seen a great many things in the last six months while serving as a member of the inner circle of the now-seemingly defunct Secret Society of Supervillains. Many of those things, with all honesty, were things he probably could have done without seeing. He had watched the televised footage of Wonder Woman snapping Max Lord's neck so many times that he still absently rubbed his neck from time to time. The ruthless destruction of Star City was even harder on the eyes. Then, of course, there was the horror of being a direct observer of Doctor Psycho's standard eating habits. That was an event that truly did justice to the belief that some things were best left unknown. 

However, this new tidbit of information, the video footage of the violent beating of Black Adam at the hands of nearly a dozen Society members, still managed to strike a chord with him. Though he knew that Lex held some interest in capturing a member of the so-called "Marvel family" he hadn't the faintest clue as to determining the man's intentions behind doing so. Was it an important enough part of his plan to excuse betraying a fellow member of the inner circle? Or was this not a matter of duplicity rather than a matter of strategy? If the latter were true, then just how integral was it in Luthor's grand schemes to have access to a person powered by the Shazam's mysticism?

Being a dealer of information, and a very good one at that, Noah was not at all comfortable with having so many unanswered questions before him.

Still, it was open to debate as to whether or not Lex Luthor's sudden return to Noah's work chamber could be considered as a good thing. The blazing look of steely determination upon Luthor's face did little to alleviate Noah's troubles. The Calculator was quick to cut the video feed of Black Adam's capture off of his monitor, a gesture that he later hoped to be fluid and smooth but the sound of his hammering heart pounding away in his chest made it difficult for the hacker to pay attention to little else.

However, it didn't appear that Luthor was paying him the slightest whit of attention. "This isn't over. This isn't over." He was rambling angrily while he walked from one side of Noah's office to the other. "I won't let it be over. I've worked too hard and for too long for my plans of a perfect earth to be desecrated by some meaningless fools who can't recognize the truth when it's right in front of them. If they won't allow me to create a perfect world then I'll simply use my army to take over this one!"

Lex immediately jerked his head around and turned his wild stare upon the wide-eyed Noah Kuttler.

"Calculator! I want you to contact every single remaining member of the Society!" Luthor bellowed. "I want you to summon all the ones that wouldn't listen to that leech Teth Adam and all those fools that survived the attack on Wayne Manor. Tell them to prepare to march upon Metropolis! Today we shall rip asunder the symbol of the superhero and show everyone upon this entire deplorable ball of rock and water that no one shall interfere with my destiny!"

Noah Kuttler nodded and quietly did as he was told.

* * *

The echoes of Kal-L's horribly miserable wail still rang in Kara's ears well after the old man had lapsed back into silence. She looked on quietly as she watched the old man clutch his wife to his chest as fat tears continued to seep out from his eyes. 

Then she heard a voice. Lloyd's voice. _"Think I'm gonna break this chain, pet. Looks like the fight's done and this thing can be kind of taxing."_

Kara silently approved the idea. Without the slightest sound, Kara felt Lloyd slip away from her, the power and painful memories drifting away from her. In a moment's time, she picked up the familiar smell of blood, sweat, and the cheap shampoo that Lloyd had chosen over the exotic fragrant stuff that Alfred had impressed upon everyone but both Bruce and Lloyd had vehemently chosen against.

And now, Lloyd stood right beside her. "Sorry about all that, Zo'rel. Not givin' you fair warning and all that."

"You did what you thought you needed to do," Kara replied without taking her eyes of the tragic scene before them. "I understand."

"Clark. . . I'm so sorry."

Bruce Wayne's willing decision to break the silence that had loomed for several minutes after Lloyd had made his apology was one of the bravest things he had ever attempted, a tall order considering the many harrowing tasks that he had performed in his 39 years.

It was almost his last decision.

Kal-L's move to attack Batman had been nothing more than a blur of rampant motion. It was only because of the fortunate circumstance that Kara had been standing in front of Batman at the time that had kept Kal-L from killing Batman on the spot. Instead, Kara was sent to the ground in a violent crash as Kal-L hammered her with a fearsome backhand. The moments that Kal-L needed to remove Kara from his path were enough to allow Lloyd and Stephanie to tackle the old man simultaneously. Together they were able to restrain the enraged old man long enough for Kara to recover and race towards them to add her own significant strength to the difficult task in front of them.

"Why did you have to interfere!" Kal-L howled. His eyes glowed crimson red as Stephanie wrapped a force bubble around the old man's head to make certain that Batman wouldn't be incinerated by a well-placed blast of heat vision. "I could have saved her! I could have saved everyone!"

Batman found he had to yell to be heard over the sound of the scuffle in front of him. "What are you talking about?! You said that you were planning to wipe out all of existence! Of course we were going to interfere!"

Nightwing gasped and rushed in front of his father as Stephanie was ferociously thrown aside by the mighty swipe of Kal-L's left arm. While Stephanie's tired body skidded across the ice, Kara and Lloyd continued to latch onto him and keep him down. Dick was suddenly reminded of watching a nature program that showcased a gang of wolverines clawing at a raging bear. "Why do you keep saying that this world is corrupted? Why do we need to be replaced?"

Despite his uncomfortable position, there was a slight look of pity in the old man's eyes as he spoke to Dick. "Why do you. . . Look around you, Richard! Good people are dying because everyone is too afraid to trust one another! Innocent people are constantly being caught in the crossfire and there's no end in sight. I've watched both you and Bruce, two of the best people I have ever known, being torn apart from the inside and out. And now you have all become killers! You're crossing the line that had separated you from the people you've spent your entire lives fighting. . ."

"OH, JESUS! THAT'S ENOUGH!!"

Stephanie flew forward until she was able to look directly into Kal-L's eyes. Her ungainly fall and tumble across the rock-strewn ice had rubbed the right side of her face raw to the point where it was nothing but a giant bruise of blood and shriveled skin. There was no doubt that she was in a great deal of pain but it also seemed that her anger and annoyance had momentarily overcome her agony.

"Look, old man! I don't know how you know who we are or why you think you know everything there is to know about us but I've had my fill of people telling me that I'm not good enough to be doing what I'm doing! I've spent the last dozen hours doing things that I wish I didn't have to do and fighting battles I'd rather have wanted to stay away from. However, be that as it may and despite what you may think I still think that my thoughts about what is good and evil still have a bit of merit."

Stephanie didn't move an inch from where she stood, not willing to give her restrained audience an inch. Kal-L returned her determined stare with the same intention.

"Now, I'm sorry that you've lost your wife but that doesn't mean that you have the right to take out your frustrations on everyone else. You're calling us all evil but I can't see how anyone that would eliminate an entire planet could ever possibly be construed as a good person."

"But you wouldn't be gone," said Kal-L. "You would be a better you! Something like this wouldn't happen on my Earth!" He spoke like a man hanging onto his own words with the desperation of a drowning man. "We were happier. We had _hope."_

"But we still have hope! We still have happiness!" Stephanie countered passionately. "I mean, yeah, we've got problems. A whole bunch of nasty, mean problems but that doesn't mean that what we have here isn't worth fighting for or is something that can just be brushed aside! Life doesn't work that way. Life _shouldn't_ work that way!"

Stephanie clammed up as Kara and Lloyd slowly hefted Kal-L up to his feet. All of a sudden, she found the old man's unwavering gaze to be quite intimidating. A small part of her was telling her that she had said everything she had needed to say and let Batman or somebody else take over. That was the part of her that was happy to be Spoiler, the little girl dressed in an eggplant cape and more than content to spend her nights patrolling the streets of Gotham while cajoling her boy friend to engage in the occasional make out session.

She didn't want to be Spoiler anymore.

Her voice grew stronger. "All of this. All the successes and failures and joys and tears aren't something that can just be erased. Believe me, I've tried to. But no matter how much you try to brush it away there's always going to be that small bit of dust you can't get to; that little, annoying smattering of grit that will always remind you of what was there before and you can't ignore it 'cause it'll never go away. The only thing that will ever make you sane is if you take that bit of dust and use it to turn yourself into a person who will do whatever in their power to make certain they won't repeat the mistakes they have made."

Stephanie sighed and shook her head, seemingly shocked that she could bring such an epiphany to words. "But there's the kicker. You spend all this time trying to figure this out on your own and then you find out that you can't do that by yourself." She cast her eyes from Batman to Nightwing to Lloyd to Kara and then back to Kal-L, one after the other. "'Cause that's what got you in trouble the last time and the time before that. Now, you say the world is a bad place and say that things can be so much better if you wipe the slate clean. Why can't you just work with what you've been given? I mean, at the risk of sounding like a corny, emo loser, why can't we all work together to find the answer?"

* * *

The Southern Ocean was rarely ever a place where you would find something that could do you harm. The waters are cold, thick, and populated by creatures that value seeking their own means to survive rather than choosing to take them away from others. It clearly wasn't meant for something like Superboy Prime, a young man who was perhaps an archetype for unchecked power and emotion. 

The weight of his cape and clothing had forced him down further and further into the icy depths until his head banged against the soft, mossy ocean floor. The impact did no more damage to his nigh-impenetrable frame than the intense pressure forced upon his body as a result of being over two miles below the ocean's surface. However, it was enough of a jarring impact to jolt the young man back into consciousness. While collecting his bearings he dully observed the variety of different sea dwellers rushing away from him.

_Don't run away_. The young man thought dimly, still not fully aware of the world around him. _I don't want to hurt you. I just want to help._

_**But they don't want your help.**_

The voice quickly caused Superboy Prime to snap to his attention.

_**They do not want your help because you are nothing more than an unwanted child who is lost, angry, and alone. A failure of a champion from a forgotten world. **_

Though the words were harsh and cruel the voice behind them drew Superboy Prime in as f it was a sinister siren song. The noise and words coiled around the young man like a blanket that beheld a snake within its folds.

_**But you're hardly a champion anymore are you, young man? Now you're nothing more than a puppet, a hollow marionette to be twisted and turned at the slightest provocation.**_

"I'm not a puppet!" Superboy Prime screamed, his powerful lungs filling with water as he did so. The source of his anger was still nowhere in sight. "I chose to help Alex so that we could bring back everything that was taken away. That's why we had to do all the bad things we did!"

_**Yes, the both of you have done a great many reprehensible deeds. You corrupted the Brother Eye satellite to produce dispensable soldiers at the cost of the lives of thousands of innocent people. You separated the Spectre from its human host and left it without a guiding conscience knowing that the entity would go on a rampage. You even brought together some of the most reprehensible beings imaginable in order to create yet another army and you did it all in the hope that nobody would see all the horrible things you've been doing. Millions of people dying for nothing more than a mere distraction. Hardly the actions of good people, wouldn't you say? **_

Superboy Prime looked around frantically, his search for this mysterious voice being hampered by his desperation, anger, and shame. "Alex said that we had to do that to bring our earths back! We wouldn't have done it if we couldn't fix it! We were just trying to make things better!"

The young man could hear the raucous, ominous laughter booming inside his own mind.

_**Ah yes, the downfall of all the fools that have adopted that ridiculous mantle you wear! No matter what reality that I look into you are always the same. All that awe-inspiring power, all that drive and vision and yet you're more than happy to be strung along and you fail to see something that's right under your nose. It was never Alexander Luthor's intentions to bring your reality back, you foolhardy child! He was too far gone in his desire to achieve the impossible; to recreate reality in his own image. To create a perfect existence, or so he believed. Of course, I cannot imagine that he would have chosen to take such extreme measures to achieve his dream if not for his unanticipated source of motivation but it is not as if he had any control over the matter. .**_

"What are you talking about?" Superboy Prime asked fearfully. "Who are you?"

_**For years I have hung about in the shadows of existence searching for the time and opportunity to gain revenge for the indignities that I have suffered, not the least of which was the destruction of my physical body. I had originally intended for Alexander to have the honor of serving as my host but I believe I have found something much more efficient.**_

Perhaps Superboy Prime had been so distracted by the dark voice around him that he failed to see the inky, blank aura surrounding him until it was far too late. It was so thick that not even the young man's eyes could pierce it. It seeped into his nose, ears, and mouth, permeating every part of him, body and soul.

_**Would you care to venture a guess as to who that person may be, Superboy Prime?**_

And now, at the last possible moment of recognition, Superboy Prime realized it all. He knew the identity of his attacker but he became far too petrified with fear and panic to stop it. His mind flashed through everything he had lost; his parents, his morals, his very identity. It was a final comfort. It was a last gasping grasp to maintain some small semblance of control and it was absolutely futile.

_**You've spent all your time watching other people live their lives, cursing their good fortune while being consumed by your jealousies. I, on the other hand, have been watching you the entire time.

* * *

**_

No one had really known how much time had passed since Stephanie had finished her impassioned plea. Kara and Lloyd had released the aged combatant and Kal-L continued to stare at the young woman. Finally, mercifully, Kal-L spoke once again.

"I would have liked to have met you on my Earth, Stephanie."

The utter sincerity of the statement managed to momentarily startle the blonde-haired Gothamite. As was her way, she recovered quickly.

"Yeah, I imagine that the other me would be a pretty cool person."

"Yes," Kal-L agreed with a small smile. "However, I imagine that she would be a bit more humble." Stephanie scoffed at such a ridiculous notion, a gesture that Kal-L found bizarrely amusing. "Lois was right. I've been going about this all wrong. I could have kept my eyes open. . ."

"With all due respect, sir," Lloyd interrupted, "this may not entirely be your fault. When you first came in close contact with us, I sensed a whole load of nasty mumbo-jumbo. Looks to me that somebody was rootin' about in your noggin."

All eyes turned to the British telepath.

"And is there a reason you couldn't have told us this sooner?" Nightwing asked.

"Was too busy survivin' mate. 'Sides, it's all gone now and how was I supposed to know where it was comin' from if it felt like it was comin' from all over the place? Contrary to what you and your da like to think of me I am not a soddin' greyhound."

"We'll deal with that later," Batman said sternly. "Right now, I think it's more important that we hear Superman's story."

"Not to mention answer the question of why you seem to know so much about us and we don't know anything about you." Kara added.

"I suppose that's the least I could provide," Kal-L said with a sigh. "My name is Kal-L and I am Superman, only just not the Superman you know of. Though it is true that I've been watching all of you for quite some time now, this isn't the first time that we have met. You see, I am Clark Kent from another reality, an alternate universe that was known as Earth-2. For the past five years, I and three of my colleagues have been self-imprisoned within a pocket dimension that has allowed us to watch over your reality. We chose to do this in order to monitor the lone reality that survived the ravages of a being of unimaginable power."

"Huh?" Stephanie said.

"I'll take Steph's 'huh' and raise a 'bugger' an' a 'what the soddin' hell.'" Lloyd volunteered.

Kal-L understood the looks of confusion on the faces of his audience but he continued to go on with his explanation. "Your reality was not always the only reality that existed. In fact, for countless eons reality had consisted of a countless array of alternate universes existing and growing separately from one another. However, as time moved on and the various planes of reality continued to evolve, denizens of different realities began to accidentally cross over these boundaries that separated the realities. The very first example of this was between my reality, Earth-2, and your reality, which we called Earth-1."

"How positively Seussian," Nightwing quipped in a statement that earned him a bemused nod from Superman.

"For all intents and purposes, these encounters were amiable. Perhaps there would be the occasional clash borne out of confusion but we always seemed to find a way to make things right. However, there was one being who saw the converging of realities as a means to gain power over all of existence. That creature was known as the Anti-Monitor."

Kal-L watched as a flicker of a thought wafted over Batman and Nightwing as if a flame long drawn out had suddenly come to life.

"The Anti-Monitor?" asked Lloyd.

"The Anti-Monitor's power was derived from thievery. He grew into a celestial being through the destruction and incorporation of others. The convergence of realities gave him a source of countless creatures with life and power he could take for himself. It laid waste to thousands upon thousands of realities, killing countless numbers of people before the other alternate universes could discover what was happening. Upon discovering the Anti-Monitor's intentions we marshaled what few forces remained from the surviving realities, including your own, and made a last ditch effort to put a stop to the Anti-Monitor's goals for annihilation. Though we succeeded in defeating the monster, our victory came at a severe cost, specifically, the loss of every single reality except this one."

Kara and Stephanie looked at Kal-L in bewilderment. They both turned to Lloyd but found him to be equally thunderstruck.

"'E's tellin' the truth," Lloyd whispered. "Bloody buggerin' hell."

Lloyd's telepathic prodding did little to comfort Kara. "But, but, maybe he just thinks he's telling the truth. Didn't you say that you sensed some kind of bad magic around him?"

"He's telling the truth." Batman said. "After all, he can't tell a lie."

Kal-L turned towards Bruce, a wave of hope momentarily soothing the profound feelings of grief and shame roiling through him. "Bruce! You remember!"

"You can't tell a lie." Batman replied. "You have no idea how preposterous that sounded to me when I first heard about that, Kal-L."

"How could we have forgotten about all of it?" Nightwing murmured. As he did so, he bega to remember watching hundreds upon hundreds of heroes rising to the sky to confront a creature whose power defied description. "About all of it?"

Kal-L placed a firm hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "It's all right, son. Everyone forgot. That was the only way to preserve the safety of the only reality that remained. That was a security measure taken not only for the people of your reality but of those that were forced into your reality because they had no where else to go."

"But how did you survive?" Nightwing asked. "We thought that you had disappeared!"

"Alexander had managed to create a pocket universe where he, my wife, and myself could remain alive. He called it a 'paradise reality' where we would be able to watch over Earth-1 while still retaining the knowledge of all that had occurred. However, as the years passed and we continued to watch events unfold, I found myself growing more and more troubled with what was happening. It hurt so much to see so many people suffering and it chafed at me that I couldn't do a thing about it. Then Alexander claimed he had thought of a way to restore the multiverse and repair the damage that had been done at the hands of the Anti-Monitor.

Kal-L suddenly looked a great deal older as he cast his eyes to the ground. "Perhaps I was foolish to believe that the destruction of one reality could bring about the creation of another. Maybe I was blinded by the thought that I could find a way to help my wife if I could bring everything back to what it once was." The Superman of Earth-2 turned towards his wife's body. He shook himself away from it before he began to cry once again. "I should have been more careful. Been more aware of what could have happened. . ."

"As much as it pains me to ask this, Kal-L," Batman said, "but are you responsible for the events that have taken place? The corruption of the Brother Eye satellite? The formation of the Society?"

Kal-L shook his head before looking Batman straight in the eyes.

"No, absolutely not."

That was all Batman required to believe in the old man. He turned to Lloyd. "You said that you sensed some kind of dark power when you first encountered Kal-L."

"Yeah, I did," Lloyd said soberly. "Funny though. Not getting the least lick of it now."

"Well, I can't honestly say that I may not be at least partly responsible for all the horrors taking place." Kal-L said with ever-growing strength. "However, as long as my heart beats, I'll do whatever I can to try and put a stop to it. I'd be happy to accompany you if you'll have me."

The four younger heroes turned towards Batman, none of them wanting to say anything until their leader had spoken. Batman, try as he might, couldn't help but be surprised at the sight of it.

"It would be an honor, Kal-L."

"Please, Bruce." Kal-L insisted. "Call me Clark."

* * *

"I have a total of 342 Society members ready to converge upon Metropolis." Noah Kuttler swung his computer chair around so he could look Lex straight in the eyes. "Should I give the order to attack?" 

Luthor slowly shook his head. "No, not yet. Tell Sinestro to keep our forces in shadow for now. We'll strike at high noon, a fitting metaphor for the destruction of the so-called superhero capital of the world."

A quick tapping of the computer keys relayed the holding order to the field commander of the massive throng of villains and murderers that now secretly surrounded Metropolis. Upon completing his task, the unsettling wave of nervousness within the pit of Noah's stomach turned into an outright hurricane. The heart of the bespectacled hacker threatened to leap into his throat as he suddenly noticed that Luthor had decided to sit beside him, his face a mask of simmering frustration.

"In case you haven't noticed, Calculator, things did not turn out nearly as well as I had planned."

Noah tried very hard not to sweat, to keep his blood from running cold. "I apologize, sir."

Luthor waved off Noah's stammered request for forgiveness. "That's quite all right. It matters little. There's no doubt in my mind that my plan will ultimately succeed, no matter how many bizarrely unforeseen bumps in the road I may come across."

A lump formed in Noah's throat. "I wish I had your. . . your diligence, Mr. Luthor."

"I'm sure you do, Noah." Luthor said evenly. "Still though, looking back on everything I find it hard to believe that one man, even a man as sharp and able as Bruce Wayne, could possibly have caused me so much trouble. He was able to find the location of the Brother Eye satellite and the means of breaking my cloaking field around it. He managed to discover my intentions of using Chemo to destroy Bludhaven. even somehow pulled off the feat of placing explosives around our base of operations without anyone noticing. "

Noah Kuttler's blood hadn't just run cold. For all intents and purposes, it may as well have been frozen.

"It's fortunate that I still have you around. I imagine that you would be the only member of my inner circle that my remaining forces would listen to with an open mind. You're a tactician, you're cautious, you don't believe in putting people in necessary danger. Those are the traits that inspired me to bring you aboard, Mr. Kuttler."

Noah's mind was racing, scanning each and every possible means of escape or survival from what was to come.

Lex looked Noah Kuttler dead in his eyes. "Did you really think that you would be able to get away with what you've done?"

A blast of purple energy shot from Lex's hands and crashed into Noah's chest. The force of the impact caused The Calculator to be hurtled off his chair, his body bouncing and skidding across the floor until he had crashed into the far well a good ten feet away. As Noah fought to keep his eyes on his attacker he found that his glasses had either been lost or crushed by his ungainly tumble and a wicked pain in his shoulder did nothing to improve his vision. Despite that, he was able to see that the man standing above him was not Lex Luthor at all but a man with copper-red hair and was wearing a dark yellow carapace of body armor.

Noah Kuttler, Bruce Wayne's inside source within the Society of Super-Villains, was in a great deal of trouble.

* * *

The brisk flapping of a heavy cape and a resounding _whoosh_ signaled the return of Batman and Kal-L. As the two men descended, Dick, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie all looked up through the swirling snow and followed their movement with their eyes. 

"My apologies for the delay," Kal-L began as he and Batman landed on the ice below.

"'S all right, mate," Lloyd cut him off. "Nothin' wrong with wantin' to see your old bird well."

Though some could have viewed Lloyd's gesture of sympathy as curt, Kal-L did not appear to be the least bit insulted. "Thank you, Lloyd," the old man replied politely.

"Will you be all right, Kal?" Kara asked.

"I'll be fine. After all, Lois would never let me hear the end of it if I packed it in now. However, we have other concerns to be worried about right now. Bruce told me of why you've come up here. That you're going after Lex Luthor."

"Yeah!" Stephanie said. "Now that we're up here is there any chance we've got a better fix on where we're gonna find what we're looking for?"

"'Cause I still haven't found what I'm lookin' for," Dick and Lloyd sang the familiar song lyric in near-perfect timing, an involuntary action that caused them to stare at one another in shock while Stephanie nearly collapsed with laughter.

"Let's at least attempt to pretend we're mature human beings, children," Batman said wearily as Kal-L smiled at the goings-on. "The origin point of the frequencies appears to be about 500 meters to the north-northeast."

"I'm not seeing anything," Kara said simply.

"There's a truckload of different energies swirling around," Stephanie said as she pointed her ring in the direction that Batman had indicated. "It could be shielded from sight."

Kal-L chose not to interrupt Stephanie's search and instead moved towards Lloyd. "That dark energy that you said you had been sensing when we attacked you. Are you feeling any of that here?"

"Not a mite, Superman. But Steph's right though. There are a lot of things keepin' us from seein' what we want to see."

"Is there any chance you guys can break through it?" Nightwing asked.

"When you're dealing with multiple forms of energy it takes time to figure out which wire you can cut so the bomb won't go off." Stephanie replied for Lloyd. "Still, with a little time I think we could pull it off, hey partner?"

Lloyd nodded. Despite feeling quite the bit knackered, the anticipation of a challenge managed to put a cocky grin on his face.

"While the two of you are doing that I think it would be a good idea to find Alexander and Superboy Prime." Kal-L offered. "They need to be told about what has been going on."

"Were those two other guys also from your reality, Superman?" asked Stephanie.

"No. Alexander hailed from a reality we referred to as Earth-3, a planet where Alexander's father was the world's only hero. Superboy Prime, on the other hand, is his reality's only survivor. Neither one of them have ever had the chance to live a real life and I'm worried about what they might do here. We need to get a hold of them so that they'll know about everything that's happened."

"Clark," Batman said cautiously. "It may be possible that. . ."

Kal-L shook his head. "I'm aware of the possibilities, Bruce. Still, I can't believe that either one of them would be willingly responsible for everything that's happening. There has to be some other explanation."

"Well, here comes half of our solution right now because here comes Superboy Prime!" Kara said while pointing to a small red, blue, and yellow blur off in the distance. The young man landed next to them with a practiced ease. Despite being recently knocked unconscious he appeared to be quite quite hale and hearty.

"Thank goodness," Kal-L exclaimed as he moved quickly to greet the young man in the hopes of avoiding any undue confusion. As far as he was concerned, the last thing they needed right now was another misunderstanding. "Superboy! We've been tricked! Someone or something manipulated us to break free from our dimension in order to serve as some kind of a distraction. We're not sure from what yet but we think it may have something to do with whatever is hidden up here."

Superboy Prime twisted his neck upward and locked eyes with Kal-L. A repugnant smile came to the young man's lips. When he spoke it was not with the occasionally frantic and forceful but endearing manner of speech that Kal-L had grown accustomed to. What came out instead was a raspy, menacing growl that cut into a well-remembered portion of his memory. "Actually, there are two reasons why I coerced you into leaving your little prison. The first was so I could provide myself with another vessel, a body with enough power and resilience to draw in the energy that I require to restore me to my former state."

"That energy," Lloyd murmured. "All that black energy. 'E's just covered in it!"

"The second was so that I would finally have the opportunity to punish those that had placed me in such a deplorable state and reducing me to a shade of the majesty I had become."

Kal-L's face grew ghostly pale as the words stumbled upon his lips.

"That voice! That energy! It's the Anti-Monitor!"


	24. The Makings of Heroes and Villains

Issue #24

The Makings of Heroes and Villains

Lloyd Thomas honestly couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired.

The overwhelming aura of malevolent energy exuded by the Anti-Monitor had sunk into his ailing constitution. It was quite apparent that the others were experiencing a similar situation. In fact, the effects of the Anti-Monitor had affected Batman and Nightwing to the point where they could only stand in a paralyzed stupor. The Kryptonians were the first to break free from their fear and strike and they quickly fired dual shots of searing heat vision that melted the rock and water in its wake. However, the actual target of the blast weathered the attacks with little trouble and the creature's return shot sent Kara and Kal-L down to the ground hard.

Taking a moment to use his telepathy to order Stephanie to get Batman and Nightwing out of harm's way, Lloyd rushed into the fray. Holding his blade at the ready, he was quick to get within striking distance. Ducking under the Anti-Monitor's right hook, the swordsman scored with a lashing strike that cut across the monster's right leg. It was a quality hit but the wound healed instantly before the attacker's eyes. Then, with impossible speed, the monster adopting the body of Superboy Prime struck him with a kick so strong that it felt as if the left side of his head had caved in.

The Anti-Monitor's laughter was uproarious and horrible to hear, a croaking, inharmonious reverberation that didn't sound at all right coming from the body of a teenage boy. A twisted grin came to its face as it watched its three fallen opponents recollect themselves while the fourth looked on with significant reservation.

"But your body was destroyed and split apart reality," Kal-L shouted. "How is this even possible?"

The Anti-Monitor's smirk heightened in intensity as it gazed upon the distressed face of the man that had destroyed it once before. "Yes, Kal-L. My previous body had been destroyed. I have you to thank for that. However, I am not some mere creature to be stunted by the inconvenience of my own destruction. For an entity as all-encompassing as myself, substance is a mere benefit, not a necessity. Though my physical form may have been annihilated, my essence remained. Weakened to a significant degree, yes, but still very much alive."

"Well, don't know about you blokes but I'm too tired to worry about the ruddy exposition." Lloyd shouted, his blade blazed with energy. "Let's just destroy the bastard!" Kara and Stephanie didn't appear to have any trouble agreeing with Lloyd's idea and were quick to follow him. Though momentarily taken aback by the impulsive maneuver, Kal-L was quick to join the fight as well.

The Anti-Monitor was clearly not the least bit impressed by this showing of courage and was more than willing to lay its opponents low as he provided said exposition. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I spent years awaiting the opportunity to renew my quest to transfigure reality into my image of non-existence."

The Anti-Monitor twisted around a side slash from Lloyd's blade and struck the young man with a backhand that sent him crashing into a massive glacier.

"I focused what little remained of my energy and managed to restore myself into a pathetic shadow of the godhood that I had earned."

The dark entity grabbed a hold of Kara Zo'rel's cape, twisting her around to disorient her before hammering away at the young woman with dozens of punches before sending her flying with a stiff uppercut.

"It was only a small matter of patience. After all, I am a creature who has existed for countless eons."

Stephanie's ring-created weapons and armor dissipated into nothing when the Anti-Monitor snared the Green Lantern with its left hand and then blasted her with its right. The fatigued Green Lantern was sent spiraling into the air, the young woman losing consciousness as she climbed higher and higher in the air.

The Anti-Monitor turned to look upon Kal-L. "And imagine my delight when I discovered that my chance would present itself in the form of someone instrumental in my initial humiliation!"

Kal-L realized it. "Alexander."

"Yes, the Luthor line has always intrigued me. For all their aspirations and elaborate plans they have a long-standing trouble with proper execution. However, when young Alexander had decided that he wished to remake the world his sightlessness gave me the avenue I required to manipulate him. I twisted his mind and his intentions so that he would work to achieve my goals instead of chasing his idiotic dreams.

Kal-L felt a pang of regret. He knew he should have paid more attention to Alexander. Not just because of this though. The poor boy had given him the opportunity to spend five precious years with Lois. For that alone Alexander did not deserve being locked away from life.

The Anti-Monitor did not appear to notice Kal-L's remorse. It was far more interested in reveling in its brilliance. "I will admit that it had been a slightly trickier business than I had anticipated. Alexander is a being of great, untapped power and I had been significantly diminished. However, for all his power and intelligence, Luthor is but a human; a sack of meat and bone to be easily corrupted by those with the ability and talent to do so."

"Is that what you've been doing all these years? Manipulating good people?" Kal-L asked angrily. "Are you responsible for all that's happened? The mind-wipes? The construction of Brother Eye? Are you the reason that everything has fallen apart?!"

The Anti-Monitor's laughter was spiked with a heavy dose of mockery. "Oh, Kal-L. Your naiveté truly knows no bounds! I'm no more responsible for all that has happened than you are. Every creature that lives has the propensity for making decisions that are blinded by their own sloth, jealousy, and pride. The events unfolding before you would have happened even without my interference. My purpose was merely to accelerate its' progression so that I could take advantage of this planet's discord. However, allow me to assure you that I will make certain that such flaws will not be present within my own creation. Like you, I too wish to create a perfect haven for all that lives."

"They'll live only so they can nourish you!" Kal-L said incredulously.

"I find that to be a perfectly noble ambition," the Anti-Monitor replied calmly.

"But you're still a shadow of what you once were, monster!" Kal-L replied. "Just how do you expect to pull that off?"

The Anti-Monitor first replied with a simple sweeping of its' hand. The elaborate cloak of energy that surrounded the mysterious object to the north began to dissipate, revealing a colossal tower at least a thousand feet high. Mists and pulses of energy that melded and passed through one another like a kaleidoscope surrounded the massive structure. The tower within the swirling mass of energy appeared to be covered with gold, an ignoble beacon shining in the afternoon sun. Its only aberration stood at the tower's roof where the body of an enormous, hideous creature served as the tower's supports. The corpse was a foul machination long decayed by death and the chill of deep space.

The remains of the Anti-Monitor's former body.

"You speak the truth, Kal-L. As marvelous as this new form is and can become, it does not have the power to perform the feats I wish to accomplish. In order to do that, I must consume the life and energy of others. I shall use the residual energy left within my old body along with the lives of those strangers of destroyed realities such as yourself to recreate the multiverse. The recreation of these destroyed realities will provide me a near-limitless supply of life for me to consume!"

Kal-L's eyes widened with horror. "NO! I will not allow you to recreate their horrors so long as there is a breath in my body!"

The Anti-Monitor leered contemptuously, the gesture profoundly disturbing upon the boyish features of Superboy Prime. "But isn't this what you wanted, Kal-L? For you and your precious wife to make your triumphant return to Earth-2? I would have presumed that I was doing you a favor!"

The creature's ridicule was interrupted by a converged blast of green, red, and black energy that struck the Anti-Monitor in its chest. The Anti-Monitor stumbled backward, momentarily stunned by the impact. More than happy to take his sudden opportunity, Kal-L surged forward and connected with a picture-perfect right cross that sent the dark entity tumbling to the ground.

"I'm not certain what frightens me more." Kal-L said with determination. You or the fact that you may very well have been right."

Kal-L turned away from the Anti-Monitor to see Kara, Lloyd and Stephanie flying up to meet him.

"Goading the bad guy to reveal its plan," said Stephanie. "That is _so _unoriginal!"

"It may be an oldie, children but it's still a goodie." Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie all nodded, all of them more than welcome to momentarily sit a spell underneath the aged hero's learning tree. "Do Bruce and Dick know their part of the plan?"

"They're on their way up the tower as we speak," Lloyd replied.

"All right, then," Kal-L said as the Anti-Monitor rose to its feet once again. "It's time to show the Anti-Monitor the price for interfering with the lives of good people."

The four tired champions charged into the fray.

* * *

Noah Kuttler has served as The Batman's technological advisor for nearly seven months.

He had come into Mr. Wayne's employ a scant two weeks after Barbara Gordon had left Gotham during the aftermath of a bloody gang war that culminated with the death of Stephanie Brown and the destruction of the Gotham Clock Tower. Noah had been situated within the headquarters of the Secret Society of Supervillains for the vast majority of his tenure. His checkered past made him the perfect moonlighter to infiltrate the organization's inner circle while providing confidential information to Batman about the Society's activities. His performance in this role has been exceptional. He had determined the location of the Brother Eye satellite, created covert distraction measures so that Batman's strike team could hit the Society at its' weakest points and informed Batman of the organization's maneuvers to gain supplies and weapons whenever the opportunity came around. His actions alone have saved the lives of millions of people while simultaneously giving the forces of law and order enough time and information to prepare for what could quite possibly be the greatest global terrorist action of all time.

As far as rewards went, sadistic torture and probable immolation and disintegration were not what Noah had been hoping for. Anticipating, yes. Hoping, no.

Looking up at his torturer through pained, myopic eyes, Noah momentarily pondered over the identity of this man who had masqueraded as Lex Luthor. He wondered why his undisclosed examinations of this stranger's blood and tissue had not indicated any metahuman ability despite the obvious evidence of such a presence. Or perhaps he was going about it the wrong way. Perhaps this was the true Lex Luthor and the balding, pooched-round-the-middle executive turned scientist was nothing but a mere illusion?

Noah wondered if other people thought this way when they realize that they're about to die.

The red-haired man spoke to him with a sneer. "Did you feel proud of yourself, Calculator? Were you so wrapped up in your own ego that you thought you could betray me so ardently without my knowledge? Did you honestly think you possessed the capability to outwit me? You're nothing but a professional nuisance, a nuisance that interfered with my grand design!"

Noah felt the searing agony coming from his arms and shoulder blades as he was hefted up to his feet. Despite his anguish, he willed himself to point his right ring finger at the face of his torturer. "At the risk of further agonizing punishment, I would like to calmly retort that I actually did outwit you." Noah found himself surprised that he had the courage to say such a bold statement to a person who could obliterate him in an instant. And while the enraged look in his attacker's eyes would have normally caused him to clam up, he felt compelled to go on. "Perhaps the reason for your disconcertedness is that it took you this long to realize it."

Alexander Luthor flung the hacker against the unforgiving brick that surrounded Noah's work quarters. Noah's awkward crash against the solid wall did his body little favor and the cracking sound he heard dimly through his near-delirium sounded vaguely like the shattering of his right arm.

Luthor held his former employee no quarter, immediately stomping his way towards Noah almost immediately after the older man hit the floor. "You were nothing before we crossed paths, Kuttler! You were an overcompensating shut-in who sold information to the highest bidder! You told me you wished to become part of something bigger!"

A lazy stream of smoke continued to rise from the smoldering remains of Noah's modest work shirt as he coughed out a smattering of blood so bright it was nearly orange. "Indeed I did Luthor, or whoever you're supposed to be. I put everything I had on the line so that I could prove I was something more than an overcompensating shut-in who sold information to the highest bidder." Noah could feel his lungs starting to give way once again but he managed to hold it in. He had decided that if he couldn't live with dignity then he may as well have died with it. "I did my own part in making sure that you wouldn't succeed in destroying the world. Perhaps that's not what you would consider being a part of something bigger but I suppose it will have to do for me. Technological interests aside, I've always considered myself to be a fairly simple man."

Luthor picked Noah up off the ground and slammed him against the wall once again. "Well, I have some information for you, Calculator. My Society will still win the day! My army will crush Metropolis and anyone who is foolish enough to come to its' rescue. And you?" Alexander created another concussive blast with his left hand while holding Kuttler against the wall with his right. "You'll be remembered as nothing more than a smoking husk!"

And so Alexander Luthor put himself to the task of ending Noah Kuttler's existence. Or he would have if he had not felt someone tapping a finger on his left shoulder.

Someone was speaking to him.

Someone with a tingling, ethereal voice.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that, Alexander."

The moment Alexander turned around to find out who was speaking to him he felt a fist crash into his nose.

* * *

"It must be hard to get a contractor up here to work on a project like this," Nightwing mused aloud. "A long commute, hazardous working conditions, inevitable execution upon completion. I don't know. I just hope that whoever did this job for the Anti-Monitor at least asked for a sturdy 401k."

Batman ignored the capricious commentary of his former ward as they moved closer and closer to the tower. The elder detective had long since grown accustomed to the ridiculous remarks of the young man he had taken into his life nearly two decades ago.

"So how exactly are we supposed to bring this thing down?" Nightwing asked. "Because something tells me it's going to take a lot more than some C4 and a handful of batarangs."

"We're not here to destroy the tower." Batman replied. "We're here to cut its' fuel line."

"Come again?" Nightwing asked. Dick always considered himself to be a fairly bright man so although he wasn't certain where his father was going with this he would have liked to hear more about it.

"You heard the Anti-Monitor. It's using the energy of the heroes that were displaced from their original realities by the Crisis to generate the necessary amount of energy needed to restore the multiverse. The tower is clearly serving as a conductor for this energy." Batman left his explanation at that, sure that Nightwing was quite capable of drawing the proper conclusion.

"So if we take away the Anti-Monitor's hostages then the tower is useless." Nightwing surmised. "Still, I can't imagine that it's going to be that simple to free the prisoners even if we got rid of the O.M.A.C. security detail."

Batman sighed as he and Nightwing arrived at the foot of the tower. "If this job were easy. . ." he began.

"I know, I know. Then everybody'd be doing it." Nightwing interrupted. "Really, old man, you need to work on some new adages."

The verbal intrusion caused Batman to shake his head as an unwilling smile rose to his face. Quickly shaking off his momentary amusement, he fired his zip-line at what appeared to be a stable outcropping that stuck out from the tower. Although his target was several hundred feet above him, the Dark Knight had no trouble at all hitting his target.

Nightwing gave Batman a peculiar glance as he did the same with his own zip-line. "Funny. I was expecting the dictatorial Dark Knight glower."

The two of them retracted their cords almost simultaneously. Soaring higher and higher up the tower, Batman and Nightwing had little trouble traversing the first several hundred feet of their journey in a matter of several seconds. As they finished clambering upon their selected outcroppings, Batman spoke again. "It's been brought to my attention by several infuriating young colleagues that the aforementioned tactic doesn't seem to work too well."

Dick shook his head while quietly wondering what had become of his father over the past several months. "I still can't believe you willingly chose to work those three yahoos."

"I was hard pressed for assistance," Batman replied impassively. "My former associates and I had a very unpleasant falling out."

Nightwing understandably winced as he continued his search for a higher outcropping. "Bruce, I can't speak for everyone else. I like to think that I'm not that presumptuous. To be honest, I can't really tell you why I left after Stephanie died. Maybe I was just so caught up in my own problems with Babs and K'ory and the Outsiders that I didn't want to deal with somebody else's. Even yours." Recognizing that Batman may very well chastise him for doing so, Nightwing still tore himself away from his quest of finding a route up the tower and turned to look Batman eye-to-eye. "Well, that and the fact that you were still keeping secrets from me. That may have had something to do with it."

Batman swallowed that bitter pill with an understanding nod. "We all have our own responsibilities and obligations. Owning up to our mistakes is what makes us better people. And for what it's worth, I'm proud that you've learned that lesson. I just wish I could have been the one to teach it to you."

Nightwing, just as he had been taught, tried very hard not to smile. Instead, he donned that well-worn jester's hat that kept him sane on the many nights he had been dashing across the Gotham rooftops in green short pants. "You know, this is normally the part when the father and son share a poignant hug. Something tells me that isn't going to be happening though, is it?"

"No," Batman drawled. "No, it's not."

Nightwing finally managed to find his next target. Smiling slightly as his hook found its proper purchase, he felt a hint of a tinge in his arms as the pull of the zip-line sent him higher up the tower. After another hasty scramble up an almost sheer ledge, Nightwing once again found enough stability to pull out a pair of binoculars from his side pocket. Looking further up the tower, he looked from side to side until he found a very familiar sight.

"I spy with my little eye someone's who's green and likes Oreo pie."

Nightwing's rather unorthodox rhyme prompted Batman to pull out his own binoculars and look in the direction that Nightwing had indicated. It had taken a bit of focusing but the detective was soon able to make out a green-skinned fellow with a domed head and a smooth, muscular frame. His countenance was marked by his usual serious and somber milieu and despite his rigid state he appeared to be relatively unharmed.

"J'onn." Batman said.

J'onn was the birth name of the creature known as the Martian Manhunter, the emblematic spinal cord of the Justice League. He had been missing since the day the Watchtower had been destroyed and all reports had indicated that J'onn was onboard the satellite when it happened. Having been one of his staunchest and longest-running colleagues, Batman had been spending whatever time he could to investigate the facts behind the mysterious matter but it was quite obvious that there was no need to explore any further.

Besides, Nightwing was more than willing to do so in his stead. "That makes sense. Alexander and Superboy Prime must have kidnapped him before destroying the Watchtower. That way they could throw the Justice League into disarray, take down one of the few people who could have put everyone into a united front and gotten their representative for Earth-1 all at the same time."

Batman felt a hint of pride that his first student had come to such a logical hypothesis in so little time. "And if J'onn is here then the other hostages must be here as well. Let's move, Nightwing!"

"Right behind you, Batman."

* * *

It was now Alexander Luthor's turn to cast a blurry stare at his attacker. While doing so he sniffed impotently as blood trickled through the cavities of his broken nose.

It was a boy; a scrawny, almost emaciated young man who couldn't have been a day over sixteen. Aside of his thin frame, he may as well have been a photograph of the quintessential, All-American boy from the 1950s. He sported straight black hair, wide, blue eyes, a sickeningly sweet, amiable grin and didn't appear as if he could or would harm a fly.

But Alexander Luthor's knew better. His face broke into an enraged scowl not only due to the pain from his broken nose but also with the realization that he had made another critical mistake. He brought his palms together and fired an intense blast of energy that had interrupted his intentions. The young man countered Luthor's blast with one of his own, a barrage of white and yellow light that illuminated the derelict office quarters and made Alexander's own blast seem as if it was wreathed in darkness. The duel of energies persisted for at least a half-minute, allowing Noah the time to drag himself away from the heat and intensity of the combat.

It was the black-haired boy who first recognized that the stalemate. Employing his godlike speed he broke away from the colliding blasts and was soon standing beside Alexander looking quite relaxed.

"Well, it looks like we're pretty evenly matched when it comes to energy." The boy's manner of speech was cheerful and gentle to the point of benign. "Let's try hand-to-hand now."

Alexander only had the time to blanch before being struck across the face with a punch that he couldn't possibly have seen coming. The copper-haired man broke into a fast, awkward spinning motion that ended with him crashing into the window that shielded Noah's office from the rest of Gotham. The plate-glass spiderwebbed as he crashed into it but it didn't break. Moments after the impact Alexander slid himself into a seated position, channeling his self-righteous anger to avoid succumbing to the pain that coursed through his body.

"This is impossible!" Luthor raged. "I had the Spectre make certain that you were taken care of! You shouldn't have any power! Shazam is dead, Batson!"

William Joseph Batson, or Billy Batson for short, could only shrug. "Yes, Shazam is no more. However, the world of magic still requires a guardian and it appears that I have been selected for the task." The young man who was once the alterego of Captain Marvel, The World's Mightiest Mortal, did not appear to take any pride in being asked to take up such an important task. "That being said, I sincerely hope you will make the smart decision and surrender peacefully, Alex. I believe there has already been enough bloodshed."

Alexander's response was another violet blast of energy. This time though, he wasn't aiming for Batson.

"NO!" Batson shouted, his serenity momentarily broken as he moved to intercept the lance of energy that was heading straight for Noah Kuttler. Despite his near-panic and sense of urgency, it was an easy race for someone with the speed of Mercury. The task was nearly as simple as weathering the attack, an undertaking not at all difficult for a being with the endurance of Atlas.

Unfortunately for Alexander Luthor, he did not have these gifts. Thus he felt quite a bit of pain as Billy responded to the under-handed attack with a bolt of mystic lightning that may as well have been fired by Zeus himself.

"You were played for a fool, Luthor," Batson said forcefully as Luthor tried desperately to regain his bearings. "As we speak the Anti-Monitor has possessed the body of Superboy Prime and is now attempting to use the tower that you created to revive the multiverse."

Alexander paused in his attempts to return to his feet. The mention of the Anti-Monitor was enough to momentarily snap him out of his anger and determination.

Batson spoke again. "Everything you have done since you had Superboy Prime break down the walls between your self-created dimension and Earth-2 has been influenced by the Anti-Monitor. You were played for a fool, Alexander."

Luthor appeared to be torn between outrage and shock. "The Anti-Monitor?! But how?" Batson's words appeared to have broken through Luthor's narrow-minded view. However, that hold lasted only for a mere moments and his face soon twisted into a narcissistic sneer so familiar that it may as well have been a trait passed down through the Luthor family line. "That's nonsense! No one holds sway over me! My actions are my own! You mark my words, Batson! I will create of the perfect world and there is nothing that you or the Batman or anyone else can do about it!"

Before Billy Batson could begin to reason or stop him, Alexander Luthor had disappeared once again.

"God damnit." Noah coughed out wearily as he struggled to get back to his feet. "There's no way Bruce is going to like that."

Billy immediately pushed his concerns about Luthor to the side and rushed to Noah's side. "Please do not overexert yourself, sir. You require significant medical attention. I will fly you to the nearest hospital."

As enamored as he was with that idea, Noah momentarily brushed the offer aside. "Not yet. Just get me to a computer. There's still something else I have to do."

Nightwing gave a silent gesture of thanks to whatever chemist at the Waynetech Chemical Division that had managed to create a resuscitating device with enough efficacy to be effective upon Martian physiology as he watched the eyes of the Martian Manhunter flutter open. While the alien warrior gave out a fatigued groan, Nightwing lifted his father's longtime friend to a point where he could sit comfortably.

"You have my thanks, Nightwing." J'onn said earnestly. He would have been more than happy to continue on but both he and Nightwing were momentarily distracted with the sound of an explosion and the sight of Batman helping down Nightshade, the Shadowpact member and former resident of Earth-4 from her own containment vessel. "Please forgive me for my assertiveness but may I ask how I came to be in such a predicament."

Nightwing stiffened, an action that was not the least bit lost to J'onn. "It's a long story and we don't have a lot of time. I know that you're not very comfortable with doing something like this, but I think it would be easier if you read my mind for it."

J'onn tilted his round head in intrigued astonishment. It was quite a rarity for a member of the so-called "Bat Family" to be so open to sharing their thoughts. For a moment, he wondered what significant event could bring about such a change in behavior. Still, J'onn was not known for being unwilling to listen to the needs of the people he had come to respect so he quickly pushed his reservations aside and closed his eyes in concentration.

As a veteran of combating people with telepathic capabilities, Dick was well aware of the varying sensations that signaled a possible telepathic intrusion. None of those seemed to match the work of J'onn. Perhaps this was because each and every one of his interactions with J'onn had been a willing transference of thoughts between two willing parties. It was nothing at all like the psychic lobotomy that Zatanna had administered upon his father. Here there was no pain, pressure, or point of resistance. J'onn's telepathy was nothing more than a slow, gentle sieving through Nightwing's recollection of the events of the past several weeks.

Of course, then came the difficult part for the both of them. Though J'onn had not participated in any of the mind-wipes and had been visibly infuriated that his colleagues could perform such an action, it was quite simple to construe their crimes to be far more grievous. Although Bruce would never openly admit to it, the opinions of people like J'onn and Superman meant a great deal to him. Would all that has happened create yet another wall that would be impossible to climb?

J'onn's face was utterly inscrutable as he regarded Nightwing. There was little doubt that he was still taking in the magnitude of the situation at hand. After a brief but agonizing moment, the Martian turned his attention back to Batman, a man who had put it upon himself to work with him to establish a civilian identity upon his new home. Fourteen years of association with the Dark Knight, internal rumblings, theories over the definition of proper justice and lingering beliefs upon the frailness of humanity all warred within the mind of the last survivor of the Martian race, a creature that was unable to defend his own planet when a plague that had been spread by one of his own had wiped out everyone he had ever loved.

"We will need to deal with the matters at hand," J'onn said decisively, the strength of his voice causing Nightwing to stand just a little bit taller. "I shall inform my fellow prisoners of our situation. You'll pardon me if I leave some of the events you described to me out of my briefing."

As Nightwing watched J'onn rise to his feet and take to the sky, he believed he had a firm understanding of why Batman had held such respect for the Martian Manhunter.

* * *

Despite the crippling severity and seeming hopelessness of the situation at hand, Kal-L found that he could not help but be a bit in awe while witnessing the display before him.

He watched Kara, Lloyd and Stephanie continue to wage war with the Anti-Monitor. It was glaringly obvious that they were physically and emotionally exhausted. He knew that they had endured a degree of punishment and strain that few people could ever hope to comprehend. They had combated living nightmares, potential world conquerors and their own sense of justice and morals in order to mold themselves into a force that had gone toe-to-toe with an army of near-limitless power and lived to tell the tale.

And the craziest part of it was that they probably didn't even realize it.

Despite having spent only a scant several months together the three of them fought together seamlessly. Stephanie kept her distance, choosing to blast away at any part of the Anti-Monitor that appeared the least bit vulnerable while nimbly dodging the return fire directed at her. Kara zoomed right into the thick of things and attempted to go toe-to-toe. Lloyd served as the go-between, wisely using his telepathy to broadcast battle plans to the girls while using his teleportation to instantly appear at whatever part of the battlefield he was needed the most.

Though far and away the "freshest" member of the team, Kal-L found that he almost had to rush to keep up with the youngsters. He had hoped to come to this reality to serve as a source of inspiration only to discover that it was he that was the one being inspired. He realized he was a fool to fall under the influences of Alexander and the Anti-Monitor. He was a fool to believe that he was the only person who could or would want to save the day and he realized that he should have paid more attention to these three flickering flames that could very well be snuffed out in a matter of moments.

_Don't worry, Lois. If there is anything I can do to keep these flames alive then I'm going to do it._

The old Kryptonian charged in once again, catching the Anti-Monitor with a double-fisted ramming blow to the stomach. Kal-L could almost feel his wrist bones creak dangerously upon making contact, a clear sign that the attack did more damage to the attacker than the victim. Moving in tandem with Kara, Kal-L attempted to pummel the Anti-Monitor with punches to the head, neck, and shoulders while Lloyd and Stephanie peppered the monstrosity's back and legs with intense bursts of energy.

The Anti-Monitor's face held a confident grin throughout it all. With a vile yell and a mighty flex of its muscles, the entity summoned an intense dark wave of energy that scattered his four opponents upon the battlefield.

"Lloyd! If I can buy you the time is it possible for you to use the spell you used when you fought me?" Kal-L asked as Lloyd and Stephanie created a barrier that protected them from the creature's follow-up attack.

Lloyd didn't waste the energy needed to turn around. "Sorry, old codger. 'M runnin' on fumes as is. That trick takes a lot more energy than I've got in me!"

"Is there any way that Stephanie can recharge you?" Kara asked as she shielded her eyes from the luminosity of the energy struggle.

"I don't have the juice for it either, Kare Bear!" Stephanie said in a slight and very understandable degree of panic. "And I don't have the time to recharge either!"

Kal-L turned towards Kara. He noticed the determination upon her face and could easily read her intents. He had seen that look before in the eyes of another young woman who had rushed into a battle she knew she would lose, a woman who gave up everything so that others could live.

_This world was already robbed of Kara Zo'rel before because of this monster. I won't let that happen again_.

"Then I'm going to try to give you all the time you need."

Kal-L could hear the cries of protest from Supergirl but he paid them no heed as he crashed into the dark monstrosity with a bull tackle that sent the both of them tumbling to the ground. Bringing what little energy he had left in him, Kal-L struck the Anti-Monitor again and again with enough force to shake the glaciers surrounding them.

The Anti-Monitor merely shrugged the blows off, reveling in its superiority before catching Kal-L's right fist with his own.

The first punch served only to break Kal-L's defenses. The ones that followed were just to keep him standing. Kal-L could feel his vision begin to dim, hear the sound of cracked bones becoming full-on breaks, and smell the coppery taste of his own blood as the Anti-Monitor began to decimate him with astonishing ease. The monster that had taken the body of a boy whom Kal-L had considered to be like a surrogate son continued to punish him well after he had lost the capability to defend himself.

_Just a little while longer, you old fool. Give the others just another minute, just another second. _

"Do you have any idea how much I had envisioned this very moment, Kal-L? How much I had dreamed for the opportunity to avenge my ignoble defeat at your insignificant mortal hands?" the Anti-Monitor asked as it took sight of its wobbly-kneed opponent. "Of course not. You could not possibly grasp the incessant shame and degradation that I have suffered because of your impossibly good fortune!"

An impossibly hard right hook shattered Kal-L's jaw like porcelain and finally sent the old man down in a mess of crimson. He fell to the ground just in time to avoid being battered by a tremendous barrage of energy whose backwash singed the edges of his cape.

The Anti-Monitor was not so fortunate. It took the full brunt of the massive blast and fell to its knees from the strain.

Kal-L breathed painfully as he momentarily waded in the comfort of a job well done. He looked up to see the former prisoners of the Anti-Monitor soaring towards their former captor with the ever-stoic Martian Manhunter at the lead. Nightshade, the wielder of dark homunculi, flew alongside him. The Ray was next, the youngest and sole-surviving member of the Legion of Superheroes. His team had been slaughtered by the Society in Washington D.C. and the young hero appeared to be quite ready to avenge his fallen colleagues. Lady Quark, the mysterious cosmic traveler who had been one of the first to learn of the Anti-Monitor's role in the collapse of the multiverse, flew alongside him along with the microscopic hero known as Breach. And try as he might, Kal-L couldn't help but smile as he caught sight of a severely hacked-off Black Adam streaking forward with anything but good intentions for his target.

And last, but most certainly not least, were Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie. They were exhausted, bruised but quite obviously still ready to lend a hand.

For better or worse, the real fight was about to begin.


	25. Soldiers on the Wall

Issue #25

Soldiers on the Wall

_Gotham City_

_I ask you again. How were you able to contact me?_

Although I'm currently lacking the patience to empathize with Barbara Gordon and her continued insistence to question me, I can certainly understand why Oracle would be somewhat suspicious. I did hack into her webbing interface, after all.

We computer "wonks" (forgive my candor but I'm currently in far too much pain to be amazingly clever) take pride in our ability to have control over our surroundings. That's why many of us become so deeply involved with technology in the first place although we may not realize it or like to own up to it. Programming material, architectural designs, informational databanks; these are things and properties that can be discovered and deduced and stolen through a set series of processes and exercises. Such constants are a blessed relief for those who have long since grown leery of the world outside of their databases. For many people, it is the ever-changing world of technology and the exceeding number of aspects of our lives that are controlled by it that brings about fear and paranoia. For us, it's the real world outside, with all its unpredictable participants and potentially uncomfortable experiences that is our difficulty.

"_That should not be your most pressing concern,_" I type. _"The Society has an army of over 300 soldiers and lunatics gathering around Metropolis with the full intention of making a noontime assault upon the entire city. It would be exceedingly wise if you were to contact your connections within the superhero community and prepare yourselves_."

"_Well, pardon my reservations," Oracle replies, "but I normally don't accept critical information at face value from somebody who gives me an instant message from a Starbucks on 47th Street._"

I cringe, an exceptionally bad idea given my broken right arm and singed shoulder blades. For all his Solomon-like wisdom and other godly gifts, Billy Batson was still a teenage boy that was all too susceptible to the allure of trendy beverages even within the midst of a global crisis. To his defense, at least the boy was cognizant enough to recognize his faux pas. Upon pointing out that a coffee bar was hardly the best place to relay potentially world-saving information, Billy quickly apologized saying that it was the first place he could think of and he and his ex-girlfriend used to do this sort of thing and he was fairly new to the experience of being god as opposed to being a godlike being. Oh, and did he mention he was sorry?

So it is under these circumstances and goings on that bring me to my current situation: contacting the only remaining person on the planet who could possibly rally up a defense force capable of protecting a city of over 15 million people with the aid of a shoddy wireless connection while sitting amidst a cavalcade of gawking youngsters, stunned baristas, and an endearing and apologetic young overseer of all things magic. Well, at least the free Mocha Valencia was somewhat tasty. Just the right amount of cinnamon.

"_The source of my communiqué is irrelevant, Miss Gordon. Though you may doubt the veracity of my warning I assure you the threat is real_." I drop her name, hoping that will speed things along.

It does. _"All right." Barbara Gordon replies. "Then how did you come to get a hold of this information?" _

She doesn't rise to my bait or waste time denying the identity of the real person behind the hacker. She's only interested in getting the salient facts. Smart girl. Little wonder why she would be Bruce's first choice for this job.

I am equally to the point with my reply. "_I have been Bruce Wayne's source for information inside the Society for the past six months. Simply put, I am your replacement. If you want confirmation of that fact then you are free to contact him personally. I'm sure you still have the number_. _However, I would recommend that your time would be much better spent gathering all the heroes you can and send them to Metropolis._"

I cut the connection the moment I finish my reply. As much as I would like to revel in the satisfaction of bursting the young woman's bubble (not to mention the small matter of foisting an uncomfortable situation on to Bruce), I'm finding it to be extremely difficult to breathe and I am long overdue for medical attention. Judging from what Batman had told me about Barbara Gordon, the young woman will no doubt investigate the matter and discover the army prepared to lay waste to her newfound home. A faint plea prompts Batson to take me to Gotham Memorial in the blink of an eye. By the time I'm placed on a gurney and I'm capable of turning around, Batson is already gone.

Right now though, that matters little to me.

My faint plea prompts Batson to transport me to Gotham Memorial in the blink of an eye. By the time I'm placed upon a gurney and I'm capable of turning around Batson is already gone.

My job is done.

I'm hoping that it's enough.

* * *

_Metropolis_

It's been four hours and I still can't figure out how the hell I'm still alive. I can't figure out who saved me, why they did it, how they did it, and how they managed to turn two gaping holes in my upper chest into minor irritation and scarring. On top of all that, I can't figure out why I chose to come up here to Boy Scout Central instead of acting like a rational, all-too-human archer and staying in my hospital bed.

I mean, it's not like there isn't enough superbrawn to go around here. Hal and John Stewart are flying around the rank and rabble organizing battle plans and arranging teams and all that other stuff that I'm too damn tired to be worrying about. Wally is organizing the youngsters and I can't help but notice that he's looking a whole lot less like a hummingbird and a whole lot more like a hawk. The first time I had heard that the kid had taken the mantle of the Flash I thought the kid would never be able to surpass the man who wore it before him.

Like on so many other occasions, I was proven wrong.

_Barry Allen, you fascist blue boy. I'm hopin' you're watching this kid 'cause he's doin' you proud_.

And of course there's Superman. Mr. Boy Scout is busy being all inspirational. He flew down to talk with me about ten minutes back saying he was deeply sorry for what happened to Star City and he tells me to be careful and he thanks me for answering Oracle's call.

I think it's good for the both of us that I don't respond. It's also good that Superman doesn't respond in return. Clark may not be the brightest fellow but he's quick to figure out that I'm not much for talking right now.

I don't recognize a lot of the people around me. Most of them are D-listers who haven't put on their gear in years. Still, judging from the rumors circulating about what the Society is up to and who they've got coming to the big city, it wasn't really the time to be picky. There are whispers that it's a destructive force several hundred strong. Some say Sinestro is leading the pack. Some say it's Luthor. Hell, somebody's even saying that the Society got a hold of Doomsday himself.

I shouldn't be here. I should be back at Star City tending to my crumbling little slice of the world. I should be watching over Connor or Mia or lending a hand with the rescue efforts. Metropolis has gods at their beck and call while Star City's got overworked EMT's and Red Cross volunteers rooting through the rubble with no relief in sight.

So, yeah, I'm just a pissed off archer right now.

I catch a familiar glint of gold and I turn to catch it with my eyes. Looks like I've spent so much time wandering around that I've caught up with Dinah and her group.

She looks tired and worn, just like so many of us after the past few weeks. Despite the bags underneath her eyes and the overall wear and tear she's still the same pretty bird to me. I catch her attention for the slightest moment and she gives me a little wave.

Roy is standing next to her. His left arm is bandaged up thanks to a nasty hit he took during his last run-in with some Society flunkies. He gives me that cocky little smirk of his, that little twist of his lips that he always did back when he didn't wince every time I called him Speedy.

Then they both turn away from me. I try not to take it personally because I know they're not doing it to ignore me.

Yeah, I'm just a pissed off archer. Here's hoping those Society motherfuckers know I got a whole lot of arrows.

* * *

_North Pole_

I do not consider myself to be someone who is prone to bewilderment. My position as field advisor of the Justice League often left little room for personal uncertainty. Still, in my years living upon this planet and working amongst these good people I recognize that I have learned a great deal from them. More often than not, these lessons would come from my association with my fellow members of the League. Moreover, of all those brave men and women that I have worked with there is perhaps no one I have learned more from than Bruce Wayne.

In Batman I found what Terrans would refer to as a kindred spirit, a man brutally torn apart from his family through causes that he could not possibly control. In addition to being a confidante and a compatriot he has also provided me with a glaring glimpse upon the greatest and the worst aspects of humanity: unflinching bravery, festering paranoia and suspicion, and an unrelenting desire to protect the innocent. He was the man that inspired me to become a detective and the person who enforced within me my conviction towards the validity of justice.

Now he is a murderer. A murderer with the most honorable of intentions, true, but a murderer nevertheless. Though Arthur Light was a vile, murderous, sordid disgrace of humanity, Bruce Wayne had murdered him in cold blood. He had organized an operation that had claimed the lives of dozens of criminals, murderers, and monsters. If I were to adhere to my beliefs of what is just, if I were to honor the pledge that Batman had taken with such solemnity on the night of his parents' murder, then it would be my duty to turn him in to the authorities. The refusal to do so would, in turn, would make me a criminal.

I momentarily observe the intense battle below me. The horrible power of the Anti-Monitor is on full display as it unflinchingly proceeds in batting us down like flies. I decide to put my questions, answers, and fears to the side and focus my mind upon what needs to be done. Though I may not know of what to do with my friend, there is no doubt in my mind that the creature masquerading as the Superboy of Earth Prime is an enemy. Such certainty can be a panacea for the thoughts of anyone be they from this planet or otherwise. Still, as I prepare to once again lay my life on the line for the good people of this planet I try not to notice that my own little world is in danger of breaking apart.

* * *

So here I am on the sidelines of Armageddon.

Again.

There's a definite bitter feeling in my gut as I look through my binoculars in hopes of catching a distinct sight among the flashes of energy and color that the battle had become. It can be a depressing realization: recognizing that the job isn't over but your job is done. You do everything you can to try and make a difference and just when the big moment rolls around you realize that you don't even have a spot on the dance card. Believe me on this. It's been a common theme in my life.

It all started with Batman. Yes, I know that's a pretty common opening line for the majority of my griping but it's actually true in this case. For twelve years I was Robin, the Boy Wonder, partner to Batman and one half of the Dynamic Duo. However, when it came down to the really messy spots, it was more often than not that one half of the Dynamic Duo would end up sitting on the bench. I'll leave it to you to decide which of us that happened to be.

Back then I thought that it was because Bruce was too cautious and didn't really know what I could do. It wasn't until after several years heading up the Teen Titans that I realized that Bruce was trying to protect me. It wasn't until recently however that I discovered that it wasn't about some perceived notion that I couldn't hold my own. I now know that it was never a matter of protecting me, it was a matter of protecting himself not only from the perils my presence could bring about but the fact that he had invested so much into my happiness and well-being. I know now that Batman needed me just as much or perhaps more than I needed him.

Things probably would have been a lot easier for me if I had taken the time to pay attention to paternal gestures and psychological hang ups back when I was leading the Titans. Yes, I was the leader of the group and I was usually more than capable of pulling my weight but there were plenty of times when situations would get a little too hairy for a former Boy Wonder to handle. Especially in the early days before K'ory and Victor and Gar. I swear, with all the times that Roy and I stood by while Donna, Garth, and Wally did the heavy lifting we might as well have brought some playing cards with us to pass the time.

All complaints aside, the fact of the matter is that most of my decisions during my crime-fighting career can at least be somewhat linked to my need to overcompensate. I'm always the one wanting to take charge, I'm always the one looking to defy the odds and I have a long-standing tendency to grow attached to women of great power and ability. It's funny. I've spent so much time trying to become somebody different than my father that I've taken on his most domineering trait: a burning desire to overcome my glaringly profound normalcy.

And here's the _really _messed up part. Despite all my issues with my old man, despite all the squabbles and disagreements and deceit the moment I find myself in a quandary I ask myself what my father would do if he was in my shoes. Now, in this case this isn't a problem at all seeing as how he's standing right next to me being just as much of an ineffectual bystander as I am.

It has to be killing him. He has all these aspirations to fight the good fight and see things through but the outcome of the battle before him is completely out of his hands. I can see the tense movements of his arms and the clenching of his jaw while he observes the battlefield. Watching him I wonder if I'm behaving in the exact same way.

Then he sees me looking at him.

"All we can do is hope that they will succeed. To steer and encourage them to do what only they can do."

I reluctantly digest that little crumb of wisdom while giving my father the sideways glance I always give him when there's some flippant reply on the tip of my tongue and I'm wondering whether or not I want to actually say it. This time I decide to hold it in. If the encouragement angle works for him then I guess it can work for me.

* * *

Even with all the aches and pains and cuts and breaks and bleeding and lingering feelings of doubt over whether or not I or anyone else will be breathing when this is all said and done, I still feel like a kid who just met their favorite athlete or celebrity. I haven't slept in twenty-nine hours but my body's still wide awake as I dodge, meander, and fire back at this creature that could kill me at a moment's notice. I'm running on nothing but adrenaline and the fading energy coming from this fancy little object on my right ring finger but I still feel like I'm on cloud nine.

I'm actually doing it. I'm living my dream.

What I'm about to tell you is something that I haven't told a lot of people. My pill-popping mom is one of them. I think Bruce and Tim were smart enough to figure it out for themselves but it took a sinful amount of fudge ripple ice cream before I could admit it to Cass.

I'm a superhero fanatic.

You want me to prove it? Ask me to tell you the original roster of the Justice League on the day they moved up to the Watchtower. I can tell you. How about the names of every member of the Justice Society in the past five years for a free bonus with the purchase of your previous request? I can give you that and the newspaper clippings to prove it.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I was running around collecting hairs or blood cultures at crime scenes but I've always been enamored with the world of the superhero. Some may view it as an unhealthy obsession but I believe I've got a pretty plausible defense. For one thing, dreaming about saving the world is a hell of a lot easier on a kid than wondering whether or not you'd be living under the same roof tomorrow or hoping that your deadbeat father would show up on the front doorstep. Through all that dreaming though, I never thought that wonderful world just away from my fingertips was something that I could ever be a part of.

No, I just didn't think I ever be a part of it. I _knew_ I wouldn't be. I knew it when I was the Spoiler, running around in a hooded Kevlar sweatshirt looking like a giant, leaping eggplant. I knew it a year ago when I broke into the Batcave dressed up in a poorly self-sown Robin costume. I wasn't blind enough to know that I was just Tim's replacement, just a place holder until B's first option was welcomed back into the fold. And then, three months after that as I was dying in a hospital bed in a private room of an overcrowded charity clinic while Batman held my hand and told me I was part of the legacy, I knew for certain that I never really was.

But enough about that whiny bullshit.

Look at me now! I'm a bonafide superhero! I've gone toe-to-toe with crime lords, intergalactic despots, and phenomenally evil tinker toys! I've stood up to an army that should have stomped me like a stinkbug but I came out smelling like a rose. I'm fighting for the safety of all of reality, I've become the chosen partner of the world's greatest detective and I've personally wheedled Richard Grayson, the original Boy Wonder, to sing the Rubber Duckie Song.

Just goes to show you that life is a fucking trip.

And as I continue to throw everything and the kitchen sink at this monster, I can't help but think that I should stay alive if only to get just a little bit more of it.

* * *

_Metropolis_

I'm living a nightmare.

The battle for Metropolis is now in brutal full swing. The piercing compilation of the bangs and sizzles of energy blasts and the screams of agony, anger and pain assault my ears as I stand fighting in the middle of it all. The sound of heartbeats surrounds me. Some are quick and strong from anticipation and fear while others have run slow and cold. Some have stopped beating altogether. Too many of them. Friends and enemies. Young and old.

The air is scorching from the heat of battle and the usually pristine downtown news district has been transformed into a reeking, smoking hell in a manner of several brutal minutes. The air is filled with people fighting each other from miles away and those who clash in mid-air close enough to trade punches. Those who cannot fly and have enough presence of mind to distance themselves from the hand-to-hand combat on the ground seek purchase on the few buildings that remain standing. Any pre-established order or strategy that had been concocted beforehand has long since been abandoned. Only instinct and madness reside here.

The violence and the wrongness of it all assail my senses as I continue to fight to protect the town that I have come to call my own. Then, as people continue to die around me, I make a sudden conclusion. I decide to stop observing the battle likes it's a news report or like a man just arriving in the big city from a Midwestern farm.

The world doesn't need Clark Kent right now. It needs the Man of Steel.

I leap into the sky with all the strength my legs can muster. The force of my leap scatters aside allies and enemies alike as I look for the monster that I can use to turn the tide. It doesn't take long at all to find him. The 900-pound mass of muscle and sinew wrapped within dead, gray skin and jagged protrusions of hard marrow is not at all a difficult thing to ignore. I fly directly at him. I catch a faint glimpse of that hideous, pointy smile and breathe in the trace scent of the black and red blood coating the creature's claws and upper body. The knowledge that none of the spilled blood is his own only serves to encourage me.

My sudden attack does not surprise Doomsday in the least. He is too quick and clever for that. However, the earth-trembling impact relieves him from his center of gravity and allows me to lift him into the air. I endure the stiff punches and scratches from the monster's fists and claws and feel my face being pounded and cut open by impossibly sharp bone. The burning in my blood that comes about from the poison within the beast's skeletal structure begins to weaken me. I block the pain away. I know from experience that the cuts will heal and my body will flush the toxins away.

I increase my speed, breaking through the earth's ionosphere within moments as the beast continues to hammer away at whatever part of me he can hit. The coldness of space does nothing to chill the heat of my blood as the flow of the poison intensifies and my muscles grow weary. I gasp with surprise as the creature lunges forward and sinks its fangs into my throat. That won't stop me. Nothing will stop me from doing this.

The warmth of the sun is nothing short of marvelous. It nourishes me with the strength and vitality that I sorely require to finish my task. I wrap both of my hands around one of the monster's massive arms. The beast continues to fight my progress every millisecond of the way. Finally, with all the strength I can muster I throw Doomsday into the sun. As I watch the monster's body burning from the intense temperatures I breathe an ever-momentary sigh of relief as the Society's symbol of fear and intimidation is incinerated in the heat that replenishes me.

The Society says that they're going to take my town? Then they're going to take the planet?

Like hell.

* * *

_North Pole_

Bloody, buggerin' hell! What does it take to stop this wanker?

Mystic thunder, Martian vision, heat vision, freezing breath, electricity and anti-matter energy. We've thrown it all at this tosser and it still keeps smilin' and sluggin' back. Every time I sink my blade into its flesh the wound I create heals up before I can make another one. And now J'onn's tellin' me that it's only getting stronger. Well, a heavin' helpin' a thanks to you, Green Jeans. That's something I really needed knowing.

Part of the problem is that none of us have really worked together before. We're not a divine team designated to combat some great evil like in those sad sack sci-fi novels. Take away all the romance out of this little situation and we're basically nothing more than nine knackered lads and lasses trying to take down something that we probably couldn't take down even if we were all running on full cylinders. We don't know anything about how the person besides us operates so we're just throwing everything we can at it. The problem with that idea, of course, is that it's not gonna be enough.

I rush into the thick of things once again slashing away at anything on the Anti-Monitor I can hit while trying to avoid the mountain of nasty tricks it fires back in return. I've always viewed myself as a Swiss-army knife of scrappers but this pillock's puttin' me to shame. Kara and Kal-L are quick to join the fracas as Stephanie and that Lady Quark chit give us a bit of air support. The only thing that changes with this exchange is the order that the Anti-Monitor bats us aside and how it chooses to do it. In this instance he rams Kara and Kal-L's heads together before blasting them away with an eye blast just before he grabs me by the shirt and slings me into Lady Quark. The impact's nothin' to me, but the gray-haired lady is out cold.

Those of us still aware of our surroundings get the treat of lookin' down at the Anti-Monitor's sneering mug. I recognize the look on its face. That look comes with the certainty of knowing you've got the battle won and the only reason you haven't ended it already is that you're looking for some shits and giggles. It's a look I myself have used many a time. The people around me know that too and I can feel the sensations of doubt and hopelessness rattling around the heads of the good people around me.

It pisses me off.

I begin to rally the troops. I don't really know what I'm saying until I say it but I keep shouting out over all the noise and violence. I'm screaming about how we have a responsibility to make certain that this animal doesn't make it past us and that its ambitions end here. I tell them that we could've stopped all this nonsense from happenin' if we just listened to each other but that doesn't me we can't start to change things by listenin' to each other now. You'll have to pardon me if I can't really recall the precise way I worded it. I'm bloody well certain that I've got a pretty severe concussion brewing.

Odd that. It's hard to figure out that part of us that drives you to give orders and inspiration when you're usually more than happy to just keep quiet or say something snarky. Maybe it's 'cause I've got more people around me tellin' me I can be something better than I am rather than marvellin' at what I am right now. Maybe it's 'cause I've spent so much time surrounded by genuinely good people that it's rubbin' off on me. Whatever the case may be, when I feel the slight burst of hope that bubbles up around the people fightin' alongside me I can't help but think that I may finally be getting a hand of this good guy thing.

* * *

The British boy's self-righteousness is infuriating.

How dare he insinuate me of propagating any sort of discord or strife! My decision to join the Society was to protect the people of Kahndaq! A gluttonous, money-motivated killer such as the Black Dog could not even hope to comprehend the pressures and responsibilities of leading a nation. Such an arrogant opportunist is only interested in how they themselves could benefit.

The wisdom of Zehuti implores me to bridle in the desire to remove the boy's head from his shoulders and repay him for his fluke of a victory that occurred at Wayne Manor. There are far more dangerous matters at hand than gaining proper revenge for the indecency of being captured by the Anti-Monitor. I stare upon the hollow eyes of the Anti-Monitor and decide that I will no longer allow this malignant cancer to continue to manipulate my actions and use me as a puppet. Gods do not allow themselves to suffer such indignities without retribution.

My compatriots, for lack of a better term, continue to scatter like grains of sand through the savannah winds. I rush past their fallen bodies and strike the foul beast with everything I have, the furies of divine lightning strengthening my fists. I bite back the harshly stoked flame of anger as the Martian and the female Kryptonian join me in my assault. The other miscreants are soon to follow as they add their insignificant offerings to my cause. Their interference allows the Anti-Monitor to gain a momentary advantage. It strikes me about the chest and shoulders, the force of its attack pushing me into the snow and ice.

As I shake myself from my momentary fatigue and prepare to attack again I recognize a pulse of familiar energy. The recognition is not unlike a falcon angrily recognizing the presence of one of its' own. I turn and see that whelp Batson in the sky. His dewy, sanguine expression only causes my fury to intensify. There is something. . . off about him. Something new. New, but nevertheless frustratingly familiar.

I find out what it is as Batson flies directly at the Anti-Monitor. That sickeningly unwavering look of determination plastered on his face offends me far more than that idiotic assassin ever could. As he collides with the monster, he only says a single word. It is a word that describes not only what he has become but serves as a symbol for the realization that this boy has once again been awarded with something that should rightfully be mine.

"SHAZAM!"

* * *

Kal-L yanks me out of the way of the lightning blast. The magic infused within the electricity singes my hair and skin as he carries me out of the blast zone. To me, the near-death experience, the latest of many I'd like to point out, is a small price to pay to hear the screams of agony from the Anti-Monitor that can be clearly heard over the thunder. Lloyd, Steph, Martian Manhunter and that weird black leather lady are doing what they can to contain the blast but the rest of us have the opportunity to just stand (or float) around in shock. Nobody saw that coming but everybody knew that whatever just happened bought us an opportunity.

It takes a bit of time for the blast zone to dissipate. It's enough time for all of us to recognize that this is probably our last shot of winning this fight. It's "crunch time," as Stephanie would probably say. No, I'm still not really sure why somebody would call it that but Steph did and I don't really have much to work with when it comes to jargon and slang. Plans are being formed, attack routes are being aligned, and Batman announces how we're going to take the Anti-Monitor down.

Then he comes to my part of the plan.

Great Suns of Krypton, what am I gonna do now?

_I'msoscaredI'msoscaredI'msoscaredI'msoscared_.

Kal-L pats me on the shoulder and tells me that he believes in me. The words are meaningful and I appreciate the good faith but I can't help but think that he's just trying to comfort me. It doesn't help that no matter how hard I squint I can't confuse myself from knowing that the man reassuring me isn't really my cousin. Batman gives me some of his typical motivation and I'm a little surprised to find that his words make me feel a little bit better.

Then I hear that voice in my head again.

'_Don't screw this up, Zo'rel. 'M already not comfortable 'bout putting me faith behind some chit who listens to Nick Lachey."_

Excuse me?! What's wrong with Nick Lachey?

"_Come on, Kare Bear! Let's finish this up! After all, you've got to be cold up here wearing that little slip you call a skirt."_

Hey! I like this skirt! Ma Kent made it for me! And why does she keep calling me Kare Bear! What does that even mean? My name is Kara! Kara Zo'rel, god damn it!

I feel my eyes burning with energy as I rush back into the fight the moment the barrier is dropped.

* * *

Mao Tenryu once said to me that the most important piece of knowledge that a good strategist can learn is not how to construct a sound battle plan but to be able to anticipate the chances of the plan succeeding both before and during the plan is being employed. I have created a great many strategies in the past twenty-five years and I have taken Mao's simple lesson to heart with each and every one. There have been times when I have anticipated success and received outright failure. Other plans have garnered victory when I expected a last gasp of defeat. However, regardless of my past mistakes, I still pride myself on being able to determine which fruits I shall be able to garner with my labor a great deal of the time.

I don't have that confidence with what I hash out in the brief moment that Billy Batson has given us. Of course, I don't bother to tell that to the people I'm giving orders to. People generally don't want their leaders to be hesitant about their leadership.

There is no doubt in my mind that the eight soldiers at my command will follow their orders. They may be tired, wounded, and frustrated but they know of the importance of the next ten seconds. I know this despite having relatively little experience in working along side a great many of the people I'm giving orders to. The mere fact that the Anti-Monitor took interest in these people while ignoring the numerous people and heroes displaced from their respective realities of origin by the Crisis tells me that the creature knows of their abilities. It fears them. Perhaps most importantly, they are all consummate professionals united by a similar goal.

Yes, even Stephanie.

Nightshade is the first to go. She focuses her ability to manipulate shadow homunculi to do everything she can to blind or disorient the Anti-Monitor. Though her efforts are largely fruitless, the distraction allows Kal-L the time to move into the fray and wrap his strong arms around the fiend's shoulders and attempt to apply a full-nelson hold. The Ray, Breach, Black Adam and J'onn move in the moment Kal-L has his fingers locked and batter the entangled pair with everything they have left. They center their attacks on one precise spot: that red-and-yellow, carefully stitched 'S' pattern that had been worn and honored by the boy this power-mad beast had corrupted and controlled.

The damage is significant but it still doesn't stop the Anti-Monitor from throwing off Kal-L with a roar. Though the Anti-Monitor's stolen body allows the old man to shield himself from much of the damage, his body is still charred and smoking as he tumbles to the ground. I quickly turn away from the nauseating sight. Still, as long as Kal-L is still breathing then it isn't any of my concern right now. What concerns me is that they've hurt the monster. It's hard to determine to what degree they've done so but the damage is noticeable to the point that the Anti-Monitor is distracted by this unexpected development.

Stephanie is quick to capitalize. Following her part of the plan to the letter she uses every remaining ounce of power within her ring to keep the beast confined to the ground. I know her enough to realize that there's a smile on Stephanie's face without even having to look and I don't have to look into the eyes of the Anti-Monitor to realize that it feels fear.

Lloyd is up next. His demonic essence is flaring with such intensity that the young man's body can hardly be seen. After taking significant measures to channel his energy while the others occupy the Anti-Monitor's attention, the young man teleports to the ground and squats into a kneeling position right at the Anti-Monitor's shackled feet. The blast he fires from his hands is perfectly precise, the black energy engulfing the upper body of the Anti-Monitor with the heat and intensity of the brightest star. However, the blast doesn't strike either the ground itself or Stephanie's restraints, thus the monster remains rooted to the spot while taking the full brunt of the blast without having any means to defend itself.

The Anti-Monitor's howl of agony can be clearly heard even from the tower.

Now for the hammer.

Even in her fatigued state Kara Zo'rel has had more than enough time to accelerate herself to the point where she's flying at nearly the speed of light. I've spent a great deal of time researching how alien life forms or even humans who have gained the ability to travel at high velocities are capable of doing so without causing significant damage to the environment around them. Though the fact that I've never been able to fully understand this bizarre aspect of superhero physics, I momentarily push those concerns aside as I await the attack of the young woman that has essentially become the galaxy's most powerful battering ram.

There's nowhere for the Anti-Monitor turn as Kara strikes. Like in the case of Lloyd's energy blast, the extensive force field created by Lloyd and Lady Quark protects the Earth from any residual damage from when Kara makes contact. On the other hand, it does nothing to stop the enormous sonic boom that flings Nightwing and me onto our backs despite the fact that we are a mile-and-a-half away from the wave's point of origination.

By the time we're both able to clamber back to our feet, the Anti-Monitor is no more. I turn to Nightwing, his face locked in a tired smile and give him a smile in return.

"No, Nightwing. _Now_ we've won."


	26. Finding Your Way

Issue #26

Finding Your Way

If the area surrounding what was once the home of the Fortress of Solitude wasn't already considered to be a wasteland before the events of the past half hour then it certainly could be now. The battle with the Anti-Monitor had razed the ground for miles around. The metallic, otherworldly remains of Superman's former base of operations had all either melted into slag or disintegrated altogether. Only a small vestige of land and dirt remained as the water running off the Antarctic glaciers moved to replace what had been destroyed. Like the effects of so many wars of the past, the passage of time would make it appear as if nothing had occurred here at all.

Thankfully, the heroes who had participated in the battle were in far better shape than the battleground they had fought on. Though the exertion that Lady Quark had endured to protect the Earth from Kara and Lloyd's attacks had threatened to place her in a coma, J'onn's telepathy manage to prevent any significant damage and she now appeared to be recovering nicely. Kal-L was also well on the way to a full recovery, his Kryptonian constitution allowing for a remarkably speedy recovery from his many burns and wounds. Despite the fact that everyone was exhausted both physically and psychically there was a highly infectious wave of accomplishment running throughout the heroes that seemed to keep each of them on their feet.

Far and away the most tired and exhilarated among them were Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie. The three youngest of the present heroes clustered together a mere few moments after the battle had concluded. It was quite obvious that each of them appeared to draw a significant degree of comfort from one another's presence.

"I can't imagine what the environmentalist whackos are going to be thinking about this one," Stephanie joked.

Lloyd waved his hand derisively and blurted out an impatient _pfft_! "Don't worry about it, Steph. They'll prolly spout some mess 'bout global warming an' the ice caps and some news report will come out sayin' we should be livin' in Styrofoam from now on just to keep safe."

"Living in Styrofoam, huh?" Stephanie asked. "I think your exhaustion is finally getting to you, buddy."

"Okay," Kara interrupted. "Can either of you tell me what Styrofoam is and why you guys are talking about living in it?"

"It's like paper and foam put together," Stephanie offered.

"Good for puttin' coffee into," Lloyd added.

Kara remained quiet as she tried to figure out whether her friends actually had an ounce of sense in them while simultaneously pondering the possibility of living in such a bizarre sounding substance. Perhaps it would be better to ask Batman about it. Or perhaps she should ask Lloyd and Stephanie against once they became a little more lucid.

Wisely deciding to leave the children to their own amusements, Kal-L turned his attentions to the Martian Manhunter. "J'onn. Can you sense any trace of Superboy Prime in the area? Is there any chance that he could have survived?"

"And Metropolis!" Nightwing exclaimed. "Shouldn't we be getting down there?"

"The telepathic signatures I am receiving from Metropolis indicate that Superman's forces have managed to turn back the Society's attack." J'onn's voice was calm and detached, as was his way. "However, I can sense no trace of Superboy Prime. Kal-L, please bear in mind that my telepathic capabilities do have their limits. . ."

Kal-L interrupted J'onn's gesture of sympathy. "There's no need for that, friend. I hoped that there could have been a way to save him. We did what we had to do." Kal-L's admission was somber and melancholy, a perfectly fair reaction considering the trauma he had endured. "I just wish that the monster had chosen me. Superboy didn't deserve that."

"Kal-L, there isn't anything you can do for him." Batman said evenly. "All you can do is remember the good he could have done and try to do his share. Give his sacrifice meaning."

Kal-L turned to see the stoic, determined look on the face of the Batman as he offered his words of motivation. For the briefest moment the old man could see a glimpse of the man who was once his best friend, a man who had stood by his side time and time again. No, this Batman wasn't the man that he had known but he was damn close. Dick Grayson stood beside him, the young man every bit as loyal and stalwart as his Earth-2 counterpart. Looking upon the both of them, the former Dynamic Duo of Gotham City, Kal-L began to wonder why he couldn't see all of this before.

Batman went on. "We may have done a lot of good here today but there's still a great deal more to be done. If we each have the intent to carry the weight of the world upon our shoulders we must remember to properly assess both our successes and our failures. If we fail to take into account the consequences of our own actions then we are no better than those who endanger others in order to achieve their selfish and petty needs."

"Like Lloyd said," Nightwing pointed out. With a grin he added, "Although you said it with a lot more coherency and less profanity, dad."

"Thank you, son." Batman replied flatly.

The crowd seemed to be on the brink of laughing openly at this bizarre display of father-son camaraderie before a familiar, indignant voice broke in to spoil the moment.

"Yes, Batman. You have a great many actions that you must account for," Black Adam all but hissed. "The construction of your spy satellite and the telepathic violations performed by your precious Justice League was responsible for the uniting of the world's supervillains. Your clandestine actions placed the safety of my people in jeopardy and I will make certain that you will answer to your crimes for the good of my nation!"

"Said the pointy-eared pot to the kettle," Nightshade fired back in quite the boisterous manner. "Did all those punches to the head make you forget you were actually _in _the Society?"

"You have no right to place judgment over my actions, you shadowy wench!" Teth Adam said with his usual candor of self-righteousness. "I did what I had to do to protect my people and I wouldn't have had to do so if you so-called 'heroes' had not endangered them in the first place!"

"Adam, if you will allow me to interrupt." Billy Batson's youthful voice had instantly caused the ramblings of Teth Adam to cease. Though the young man needed the support of Breech to keep him from falling over with exhaustion the look on Batson's face was the picture of serenity. "Not that I wish to question the wisdom of Zehuti but perhaps you should question the prudence of erupting into a fit of anger while in the presence of a number of individuals who appear to be quite unafraid of taking significant measures to silence you."

The ridges on Black Adam's prominent forehead became more and more distinct as he cast his eyes among the people he had just fought alongside. Indeed, it was quite obvious that none of them appeared to be particularly pleased with his presence or with his choice of words. After assaulting all those present with a final, exasperated sneer, the Lord of Kahndaq wordlessly took to the sky.

Nightwing watched the streak of black-and-yellow go as it made it's way north-northeast. "Huh. I wonder if we're invited to Kahndaq for Christmas?"

"I'm a shadowy wench," Nightshade pointed out.

Billy Batson too watched Teth Adam depart from the battlefield but he soon turned his attention back to the ragtag assemblage of heroes before him. "You each have earned my sincerest thanks," Billy Batson said as he pulled away from Breach so he could stand on his own two feet. "Although there is no way to know for certain whether a creature like the Anti-Monitor can truly be destroyed I assure you that I will keep a stern lookout."

"Just don't be afraid to ask for a helping hand, C.M." said Nightwing. "And don't forget to take a bit of time off. I think we've all earned it."

"Ah, yes," Billy Batson said hesitantly as if the young man turned overseer of all things magical had never even considered that such a thing were possible. "Also, I am pleased to report that your friend Mr. Kuttler is resting quite comfortably in Gotham Memorial Hospital." Mister Wayne, he has asked me to tell you that he wishes to ask about the proper ways and means of filing for hazard pay at the first available opportunity."

"I'm sure he does," Batman said somewhat sourly.

"_Mr. Kuttler?_" Stephanie broke in. "Oh! You mean C.C.!"

"'S a bloody shame," Lloyd said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "All the work he put in an' he doesn't even get to come up 'ere and celebrate with us. Bloody hell! I haven't even had the opportunity to thank the bloke face to face, much less meet 'im!"

"Me either," said Stephanie.

The two tired teenagers turned to one another with identical, mischievous grins. After exchanging nods Stephanie thumped her hand onto Lloyd's shoulder and the two of them teleported away. They were gone for approximately 15 seconds, which was just enough time for the others to properly consider just what the hell the two of them were up to. They received their answer as the two of them reappeared with an incensed, hospital gown-clad Noah Kuttler in tow.

"Get your hands off of me, you intolerable, little miscreants! Can't I just enjoy a single moment of painful solitude without having to deal with all of you!" Noah continued to squawk in annoyance as he shook a bag of yellow liquid in front of Stephanie's face. "I was just beginning to enjoy the effects of my morphine drip!"

"Well, the gang's all here." Nightwing pointed out.

Batman could only shake his head sadly and remain awash in his own embarrassment.

* * *

"Excuse me, Mister Kal-L?"

It took a moment for Kal-L to recognize that Kara was speaking to him. The farcical display put on by the three unlikely partners had gone a long way towards distracting him.

Try as he might, the elderly Kryptonian couldn't help but be astonished at the graciousness of the young woman as she nervously ducked her head and brushed back an errant wisp of blonde hair back behind her ear. Judging the young lady only through her timid nature and subdued mannerisms, she was perhaps the last person anyone would have suspected of dealing the punch that brought down the greatest threat that the world had ever known.

"Kara, it's perfectly all right if you call me Clark. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Uh, yeah. Do you think maybe we could go somewhere and talk? I mean, I don't want to sound too pushy but it's just that I've got a few questions I'd like to ask you. I know you're probably pretty tired and all. . ."

Kal-L cut off Kara's nervous ramblings with a smile. "It's all right, Kara. I'll be happy to speak with you."

It hadn't taken long at all for the two Kryptonians to find a spot where they could have an undisturbed conversation. They perched themselves upon a small glacier several miles north of the battlefield that had seemingly avoided the effects of the intense battle. While Kal-L felt more than comfortable with leaning up against the massive mound of rock and ice, Kara didn't appear to find the right place to plant her feet or what to do with her arms. He kept himself quiet just long enough for Kara to work up her nerve and just briefly enough so that Kara wouldn't lose her nerve.

"Now then," Kal-L began. "What would you like to ask me?"

"Well," Kara scuffed the heel of her right boot against the ground and watched the shards of ice slide into the base of the glacier. "When we were fighting you said that I wasn't the person I once was. . ."

Now it was Kal-L's turn to look ill at ease. He momentarily tore his eyes away from Kara and left the young woman momentarily taken aback. However, the personal importance the young woman had for the topic at hand was enough to override her apprehension. "I just took it to mean that maybe you knew who I was before my Krypton exploded," she went on. "Is there anything at all that you can tell me about my past?"

Kal-L began to try to interrupt but Kara was not about to be stopped. "Please, Kal-L. If there's anything, anything at all you can tell me. . . I'm so tired of not knowing who I am or what I was like. I've got all of these thoughts jumbled up in my head and I just don't know what to make of them and I. . . I don't really think I was a good person."

The look in Kal-L's eyes held a near-equal amount of regret and guilt. "Kara, I'm truly sorry but it's quite clear to me that I was mistaken. You aren't the Supergirl that I remembered. I can't tell you anything about your past. It had never occurred to me to search for you while I was in the pocket dimension because I didn't think there would be any other survivors from Krypton's destruction."

It didn't take telescopic vision to realize that Kara was significantly crestfallen. The realization that yet another possibility to learn about her past had been all for nothing was an exceedingly bitter pill to swallow. "Oh," she all but mumbled. "Well, um, I'm sorry I bothered you."

Kara moved to fly back to the others but Kal-L intercepted her. He knew he couldn't possibly leave the situation at that. "But there is something I can tell you. You are Kara Zo'rel and you are Kal-El's cousin. There's nothing that anyone can say or do that can take you away from being who you are."

"But that's the thing," Kara fired back. "I don't know who I am! I don't know what I was sent here for and judging from all these flashes of memories in my head I don't think I was sent here for the same reasons as my cousin."

"I understand why such a thing would upset you, Kara." Kal-L replied. "It's tough when you don't have a place to call home or have something constant in your life that you can hold on to. I may have been the Last Son of Krypton but I always had somebody to turn to. Ma, Pa, Lana, Lois. I can't really say I know exactly what you're going through but if I may, I'd like to tell you a story that might give you a few of the answers you're looking for."

Kara nodded warmly. Pleased that the young lady was willing to momentarily cast aside her own grief in favor of listening to his words of advice, Kal-L was quick to launch into his story.

"When I was 16, I found out the real reason why my mother and father had specifically sent me to Earth. They wanted me to subjugate the planet and force the people that I had grown up alongside to adopt the ways and customs of Krypton, a planet I had never really known. A small part of me had been tempted to do just that, to throw away everything that I had been given by my home, my family and my loved ones in order to learn more about my past. Now I can't tell you why you were sent here or who you were in the past but let me just say that you have been given a wonderful opportunity to make yourself into somebody you can be proud of. If you need something to hold onto, my advice is to hold onto that. As long as you're willing to keep sharing your fears and worries and listen to the fears and worries of others then there's no doubt in my mind that you'll find your place."

Kara's sorrow gave way to a reluctant smile. She turned around to look back at Lloyd and Stephanie. As she watched the two of them continue to antagonize and tease the increasingly petulant Noah Kuttler her face split into a wide grin.

Kal-L followed the movement of Kara's eyes and chuckled. "Well, it seems like you've already decided where you're going to hang your hat."

Kara turned to look at Kal-L with wide eyes. It was quite obvious that she hadn't anticipated that reaction.

"Don't look so shocked, young lady," Kal-L said with a bit of mischievous admonishment. "You're not the only Kryptonian who knows that there's a lot more to Mister Wayne than a scary scowl and black underoos." The old man allowed Kara a moment to chuckle at his unique description of the Dark Knight before continuing on. "Bruce is a good man, Kara, and good men always need good people beside them to know they're not fighting their battles alone. Besides, after watching all of you fighting together I think it would be a shame to break up this little team all of you have put together."

Kara smiled warmly, proud that she had not only made such an important decision on her own but also because Kal-L had approved of that decision. Still, she still had something else on her mind.

"So if I'm not the Kara Zo'rel you were thinking about then who was? Was it the Supergirl from your reality?"

Kal-L sighed. It was a gesture displaying both his fatigue and his recollection of bittersweet memories. "Well, Kara, if you have the time, I would like to tell you the story of a young woman named Linda Danvers."

* * *

The Martian Manhunter looked intently over the desolation of the battlefield, his well-tuned mind forcibly eluding the feelings of relief and exhilaration running wild through the thoughts of the people that surrounded him. Though J'onn was proud of their accomplishments, the Martian telepath was far too much of a rational being to avoid the fact that the victory had come at a high price that they would have to pay for a long time to come. There were questions that needed to be answered and responsibilities that had to be upheld.

"J'onn."

Batman was both the first and the last person J'onn had wanted to speak to right now. Though he had not been an active participant in the final battle, the rigors and wounds from the skirmishes before had clearly taken their toll on Bruce's all-too-human constitution. J'onn fought back the aching desire to look into his friend's mind and see what lay under the veneer of exhausted, gloomy repose.

"What's on your mind, J'onn?" Batman asked calmly.

The last surviving Green Martian arranged his thoughts in silence. He wanted to make certain that he gave himself ample time to properly frame what he was going to say.

"A great many things, Bruce."

Batman was not so foolish as to continue on with his unnecessary pretense and chose to cut to the heart of the matter. "I'm not saying that my actions were right, J'onn. In fact, I have little doubt that I will be spending many a sleepless night wondering whether or not I had made the right decision. However, I still believe that I did what I needed to be done for the good of all life on this planet."

J'onn nodded. It was not the least bit difficult to understand the logic and see the sincerity behind his old friend's defense. However, that was not what J'onn had troubles with. "A great many of your planet's would-be conquerors and madmen have employed a similar form of logic when justifying their crimes. Can you honestly claim that the safety of others was your only motivation? Perhaps you became so overcome with your constant desire to control your environment that you resorted to murder in order to obtain that control?"

Batman's eyes narrowed dangerously. He yanked the heavy cowl off his head to reveal the handsome, patrician features of Bruce Wayne. "J'onn, if you have any doubt of my intentions then feel free to look into my mind. I didn't make this decision on a mere whim. You know me better than that."

For the briefest moment, J'onn seriously considered the idea. "You know I won't do that, Bruce. I can understand your decision. I can even identify with it. What truly concerns me is that it is not your decision did not solely impact you. You included these. . . children into your crusade. You've made them murderers and targets of the ire of your enemies. How many times must your planet's young be forced to pay the toll for an old man's war?"

Batman's response was cold, curt, and blindingly sincere. "First of all, J'onn, these _children_ are the only reason why we're all still alive and you owe them a debt of gratitude. Second, I did not include them into this war. They chose to fight for something they believe in and if there was any possible way that I could have convinced them to walk away I guarantee to you that I would have used it."

It had been a long time since J'onn had heard such emotion, such passion in his friend's voice and he couldn't help but smile. "So you're saying that they were bringing you along with them rather than the other way around?" The Martian punctuated his inquiry with a raised eyebrow. "That's hardly the kind of reaction I would anticipate from you."

Bruce chuckled darkly as he brushed his calloused right hand over his forehead. "They're driving me insane, J'onn."

J'onn's own laughter was far more pronounced. "I must admit that they have a great deal of potential."

Bruce shook his head firmly. "This isn't just potential, J'onn. You saw the three of them fight against the Anti-Monitor and I've seen them winning battles that I honestly thought were impossible to win. They're. . . special, J'onn."

The Martian Manhunter withheld his astonishment at listening to Bruce's glowing compliments. "So just what do you plan to do now?"

Bruce Wayne shifted his gaze over to Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie. It appeared that Kara's presence had prompted her two troublesome friends to refrain from pestering Noah and it now appeared as if the four of them were engaged in a peaceful conversation. Nightwing had joined them as well, his first student seemingly quite eager to join in the proceedings.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I am not so blinded in my own crusade to realize that I won't be able to continue doing it forever. I've done it for so long already that I feel that I've lost a big part of why I began fighting it in the first place. This was a war that could have been prevented if we had just remembered to work with one another. These children have a gift that we had forgotten, J'onn, a gift that can be nurtured by someone who can teach it to them. So I'm going to train this new generation; I'm going to teach them what they need to know so they can have a shot at making this world a better place. And maybe if I keep working alongside them they can teach me the things that I forgot a long time ago."

"A truly noble ambition, my friend," J'onn said appreciatively. "But how will this affect the rest of us? What of the Justice League? I recognize that you have legitimate issues with many of my colleagues but I was hoping that you would still choose to fight alongside us."

Bruce suddenly found that he had to turn away from J'onn to say what he needed to say. "The Justice League is a noble ambition, J'onn. Imperfect, yes, but something I feel to be quite necessary. Good people need a beacon; a source of comfort and strength that they can draw from to feel secure in this turbulent world. I believe the Justice League can be that but I don't think that I could ever be a part of such an ambition."

Bruce turned back to meet J'onn's stare. "There are so many horrible things that are slipping through the cracks that something like the League can't reach. My team is going to search those cracks, dig out what's there and push them into the light."

"That didn't appear to be a spur of the moment answer," J'onn replied sagely. "Bruce, I can understand your apathy towards being part of a beacon, to borrow your own words, but I sincerely hope that you would be willing to come back, at least some day. That being said, I won't deny that I am somewhat frightened by your intentions. Such aspirations have the tendency to corrupt even the sternest of moral fibers."

"I'm aware of the risk, J'onn. And I thank you for your concern about my well-being. I wouldn't expect anything less from the man that will restore the integrity of the Justice League."

"You're placing a great deal of pressure on the both of us, old friend."

"Perhaps, J'onn." Bruce replied as he extended his gauntlet-covered hand. "It's a good thing that we don't have to handle these things alone though, do we?"

J'onn nodded earnestly as he accepted Batman's gesture of friendship.

"Yes," J'onn responded, "I suppose it is."

* * *

It had now been a half-hour since the downfall of the Anti-Monitor and everyone knew they were needed elsewhere. Lady Quark and Breach had already said their goodbyes, the former returning to her outpost in space while the latter traveled to Metropolis with J'onn to aid in the city's recovery. Nightshade had departed soon after to reunite with her fellow members of the Shadowpact. Before she left she had handed Nightwing her phone number, a gesture that resulted in a great deal of discomfiture from Mister Grayson and a great deal of laughter from the others.

"Well, it appears that I should take my leave as well," said Billy Batson. "I have inherited a great many responsibilities from my former mentor and it would be injudicious of me to put off learning more about them."

"Thanks for saving our arses, mate. Not just this time with the Anti-Monitor either."

There was a definite twinkle of mischief in Billy's eyes as he turned towards Lloyd. "Well, I did tell you that I wished to meet all of you personally."

"Just remember to take that vacation I was telling you about," Nightwing added.

The overseer of Earth's Ninth Age of Magic smiled gratefully. "I believe I just might." The young man then turned towards Kal-L. "If you wouldn't mind, sir, perhaps I could borrow a moment of your time. I understand that it may not be the most opportune time for you but I assure you that it is a matter of great importance."

"That's quite all right, young man. I'll be happy to join you." Kal-L replied before turning to Batman's contingent. "As for the rest of you, it was a privilege to work with all of you and I'm hoping that we'll be able to do it again sometime."

"Be careful with what you wish for there." Stephanie answered. "After all, superhero team-ups are usually reserved only when the world is threatening to go to hell in a hand basket!"

"Then maybe I'll just stop by Wayne Manor and say hello," Kal-L said shrewdly. After receiving a mischievous smile from Stephanie in return the old man turned towards Batman. For a moment the two looked at one another in silence.

"Bruce."

"Clark."

"You aren't the Bruce Wayne that I knew."

"Do you still think that's still a bad thing?"

Kal-L seemed to give that question a serious degree of thought as he moved to stand side by side with Billy. "I'll still need some time to think about that."

* * *

Billy Batson and Kal-L were now gone.

Six people now remained.

Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Lloyd Thomas, Kara Zo'rel, Richard Grayson, and Noah Kuttler.

"Don't you just hate it when people make cryptic comments just before they walk out of the room?" asked Stephanie. "I don't know. I always thought that was kind of presumptuous."

"Says the 16-year-old constantly goin' 'round makin' speeches plucked right out of an after-school special."

"As if the little spiel you spouted while we were fighting the Anti-Monitor was any better!" Stephanie snarled. "I swear to God, you sounded like Graham Chapman in the _Life of Brian_! Were you even aware of the words that were coming out of your mouth?"

"I think you'd both be better off if you took some quiet time to think about what you're saying before you go and say it," Nightwing added, a recommendation that caused Lloyd and Stephanie to flip him off in accordance with the customs of their own nations of birth.

"Well, I personally think that we would all be better off if we just took a week long nap after everything we've been through." Kara's suggestion earned her a chorus of approvals.

"First things first, though," Lloyd said. "'Fore we take a kip it appears that the lot of us have a decision to make."

"Well, I know nobody can stay with me in my room!" Stephanie exclaimed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I had everything fixed up just the way I like it before everything blew up!"

"I'm pretty partial to havin' me own room as well," Lloyd added as Kara nodded in agreement. "Still, I can't see that bein' too much of a problem. Workin' with Bruce Wayne should be able to get us into some pretty sweet temporary digs."

"Ooh! Bruce! I read in _People_ that you own a huge villa in Tuscany!" Kara squeaked. "Can we go to Tuscany?"

Batman was positively flummoxed. "What are all of you going on about?"

"I for one would prefer habitations that have a much greater degree of personal security," Noah said stiffly. "Once the surviving members of the Society discover my role in their downfall I imagine that they will wish to seek me a great deal of harm."

"Quite right that. So you're gonna stay aboard, Kuttler?" Lloyd asked.

"It appears that I have little logical choice in the matter, Mister Thomas." Noah answered. "Everyone else would either choose to kill me or place me in jail."

"Don't worry, C.C.! We'll protect ya!" Stephanie said in a cheerful enough manner for Noah to noticeably bristle at the unflattering nickname.

Batman made a significant effort to clear his throat in such a manner that he garnered the attention of the others. "I reiterate. Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, we're a team now, aren't we?" Lloyd pointed out. "We're gonna have to find suitable accommodations until we can get Wayne Manor back up and running. Good strategy an' all that."

"And why wasn't I made aware of these plans?" Batman asked.

"Come on, B! It was your idea!" answered Stephanie. "After all. . ." Stephanie's voice took on a much deeper, throaty tone. "I'm going to train this new generation; I'm going to teach them what they need to know so they can have a shot at making this world a better place. And maybe if I keep working alongside them, they can teach me the things that I forgot a long time ago."

Batman narrowed his eyes at his partner's unflattering impersonation before turning his angry glare towards Kara. The young woman hedged away from the intense scrutiny.

"I'm sorry." Kara said meekly. "I sort of overheard what you said to J'onn and then Lloyd heard me thinking about it and then he must have told Stephanie."

Batman's disposition soured in the face of this intricate display of eavesdropping. "Well, then it's not even a matter of wanting to keep secrets anymore. Now I can't even do it if I wanted to." The statement was grim in sound, but jovial in nature. "So, I suppose this means that you still want to work with me."

"Don't remember turnin' in my resignation notice, boss." Lloyd said simply.

"I'd restate that nice little speech I made after I kicked the Black Mask's ass but I'm too tired to remember it right now." Stephanie said.

"All desires to maintain personal safety aside, I believe that this would be a very beneficial operation to be a part of," Noah added. "Besides, it's been made quite clear to me that I owe a debt to the world around me."

Seeing that Kara had yet to supply an answer to Batman's question, Stephanie floated over to stand by Kara's side and placed an arm around her friend's small shoulders. "Come on, Kare Bear! Join our merry band of miscreants!"

Kara momentarily postponed her reply to give Stephanie what she hoped was a withering stare. "Just so long as you stop calling me Kare Bear." Stephanie's response to Kara's demand was a joyful hug that soon gave way to laughter.

"Well, looks like we got five hats in the ring." Lloyd said. "What say you, Grayson?"

Nightwing suddenly discovered that all eyes were upon him. Under most circumstances he would have enjoyed the attention but now he found it quite disconcerting. Maybe that was because he had a feeling that he was about to let his captive audience down and that was a circumstance that no true performer could ever truly feel comfortable with. "I don't know guys." The audible complaints from Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie were already coming his way. "Come on! I've still got the Outsiders thing going on and I'm still doing some side work with the Titans."

"Come on, Dickie! Last time I heard neither one of those teams wanted anything to do with you!" Stephanie yelled in what was not at all a persuasive manner. "They knew you were an asshole just like the rest of us! Come on, man! We assholes need to stick together!"

Nightwing really had to work to keep a straight face. "That's amazing, sprout. You somehow managed to not only put a hideously nasty image in my head but you also succeeded in creating the least motivational message in all of recorded history."

"You can't blame me for your mental imagery!" Stephanie shot back. "It's not my fault you've got a warped, sad, sick little mind!"

Dick decided to jump from the conversational train of insults before it could even leave the station. "Besides, I'm just a regular guy. There isn't anything I can do that somebody else here can't already do better. You don't need me."

"No, Nightwing. We don't need you here," Batman said rather bluntly. "That being said, do you want to join us?"

Now, it wasn't the offer itself that had surprised Dick to the point of momentary loss of speech nor was it the rather gruff manner that Bruce had presented it. After all, this wasn't the first time that his father had asked him to come back to Gotham. This time though, there was something different. Dick could feel the intent and the sincerity of his father's words in his bones and within a part of his heart he had mostly kept shut ever since he had moved away from Wayne Manor. Despite all the new recruits and the scars of the past, his father still wanted to be with him even when he didn't need him to be. That realization broke through the pessimism that had cropped up around him since the day he refused to wear the Robin costume anymore. There was no doubt that there were still questions that had to be answered and difficult conversations that had to be undertaken but this time it was Bruce that had been the one to bring the idea to the table rather than him. For Richard Grayson, that simple offer meant a great deal more to him than anything else has for a good, long time.

However, being a self-determined and slightly egotistical 26-year-old man, he wasn't about to admit it.

"Well, just bear in mind I've still got Bludhaven to watch over," Nightwing pointed out. "And I want my old room back."

Bruce gave his son a legitimate, unencumbered smile. "I think that can be arranged."

Richard smiled in return. The father and son stood in the ice, neither one of them entirely certain what they were supposed to do next until Dick was enveloped by a green, red, and yellow blur.

"Woo-hoo!" Stephanie crowed as she lifted Dick into the air. "Nightthing is coming back to Gotham!"

Nightwing seemed momentarily torn between trying to push himself free from the jubilant teenager or bursting into hysterical laughter due to the sheer lunacy of it all. In the end, he wisely chose to take the middle line and smiled as he ruffled Stephanie's hair roughly until she put him down. "Well, I guess all that's left to decide now is where we're going to be staying and what we're going to call ourselves." Dick said as Stephanie wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Dick's statement caused Batman to give off an annoyed grumble. After all, it was a known fact that the Dark Knight was never fond of such trivialities as catchy names and titles.

"I'm all for Lloyd and the Lloydettes," Lloyd started off the round of discussion. His comment was immediately answered when Kara threw a snowball at him for making such a ridiculous notion.

"We'll be operating out of Gotham City, I presume," Noah said. "Perhaps we should call ourselves the Gotham Knights?"

"Naw, too showy." Lloyd answered while using his fingers to sweep away the snow and ice from his eyes and eyebrows.

"The Avengers!"

"I believe that's already taken, Miss Brown." Noah said impassively.

Batman grumbled once again as the conversation fractured into a half-hearted but spirited argument that produced suggestions for team names that ranged from somewhat offensive to profoundly asinine. He had become fully intent upon blocking it out altogether until he heard a voice that had not yet engaged in the debate.

"Well, um, I've got an idea. How about the Misfits?"

Now the spotlight was shined upon Kara, much to her chagrin.

"The Misfits, Kara?" asked Batman.

And the fact that _Batman _was paying attention to her did not help matters at all for the reserved young woman. Still, she had an idea and she thought it was a good one so she struggled to go on with it. "Well, I just remembered one day back at the Kent farm when I was really bored and Ma Kent let me watch _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_. And I just started thinking about that Island of Misfit Toys and all those poor, broken toys that went off to live on their own because nobody wanted them. I don't know. . . I mean, I don't want to offend anybody but I just sort of thought I identified with that."

Her suggestion was initially met with absolute silence, quite astonishing considering her chatty company. The longer the silence carried on the more Kara felt ashamed for speaking up in the first place.

"I think we can all identify with that," Lloyd replied, quite confident that he spoke for everyone.

Batman moved towards Kara and gave her a pat on the shoulder that would have seemed like quite the paternal gesture if anyone else were doing it. "Unless there are any disagreements?" Batman waited for anyone else to voice any dissenting opinion on the matter. There were none. "Very well. Misfits, let's head home."

Cue for the dramatic beat.

"All right, then!" Stephanie exclaimed. "Just where is home now that we blew Wayne Manor up?"

Lloyd groaned along with many of the other Misfits.

"Must you always ruin the moment, Tweety?"


	27. Grief, Moving On

Issue #27

Grief, Moving On, and Other Motivational Crap

_San Francisco, California_

The final, fallen leaves of autumn had turned the normally gray and green backdrop of Centerview Cemetary into a scene festooned with a myriad of colors that signified life rather than death. Some would consider this to be a fitting tribute; an appropriate final resting place for a noble, young man who fought and died to preserve the lives of so many others. For those who were closest to him, those who had laughed, cried, fought, and loved alongside him, the setting was a subtle, mocking reminder that he was gone. Perhaps the time would come and come soon when the next generation of heroes and heroines would be able to look upon their friend and speak about dignity and honor but that time was not now.

This is the funeral of Connor Kent.

He was a clone created to replace the then-seemingly dead Superman. He had been constructed nearly cell-by-cell from the DNA of the world's greatest hero and the world's greatest villain. To say that the young man had experienced his fair share of growing pains from this dichotomy would be a laughable understatement but Connor had become an accomplished hero in his own rights while working with his friends in Young Justice and, most recently, the Teen Titans. He was one of many young heroes who had readily answered Oracle's call to aid in the defense of Metropolis and when it came time for battle to rage over the thriving metropolis the young man pulled his own weight and then some. His courage and strength served as a pillar of inspiration for both his peers and his elders alike in that chaotic maelstrom of confusion and violence.

But then he came across Doomsday.

The burial itself is nothing but a mere formality. By the time the monster had gotten through with him, there wasn't anything left to bury. The beating Connor had endured had not only broken his body, but shattered his actual genetic structure. He uttered his final breath cradled within the arms of his lover while his body degenerated into the protoplasmic remainders that he had originated from. Two minutes later, Superman would avenge his death by throwing Doomsday in the sun, an awe-inspiring effort that turned the tide for the heroes fighting below and reminded everyone why the Man of Steel was the planet's greatest champion.

The facts behind Connor Kent's death meant little to Timothy Drake, Connor's long-time partner and best friend. The thin, well-sculpted young man who had been a witness to more tragedy than anyone should ever have to see remained still as stone while the minister said a smattering of kind words that he didn't consider worth listening to.

A tall, blonde-haired young woman had wrapped her strong arms around Tim's neck as she wept uncontrollably. It was obvious that the woman was desperately seeking some minute form of comfort or any other kind of discernible show of emotion from the young man she held in her arms. However, Cassandra Sandsmark, Connor Kent's former girlfriend and lover, would not receive the slightest trace of response from her friend.

Watching it all, Stephanie wondered if Tim was like this at her funeral.

She had made certain to stay out of sight, a necessity made a great deal easier by the large crowd of admirers and fans that had come to pay their last respects for a hero cut down well before his time. Looking at it now, Stephanie felt silly for thinking she would need to make some significant effort to remain hidden from those who might have recognized her. It wasn't as if anyone was looking for her. All eyes were on Tim and his friends. She was nothing more than an unrecognizable part of the crowd, a fact made only slightly more palatable by the fact that this was precisely what Bruce had asked of her.

Stephanie couldn't quite reign in the irritated look that crept onto her face when she heard Sandsmark let out a wail of sorrow and bury her head into Tim's shoulder. For the slightest moment, Stephanie felt the burning desire to rush over to them, knock the little Amazon's lights out and take Tim in her arms. Since she wasn't capable of doing any of those things, Stephanie decided to ponder over what could have brought about such an impulsive thought. Jealousy? Frustration? Anger? A little bit of all of the above and not enough of any of them?

While she pondered over this little quandary, Stephanie managed to catch sight of another Cassandra.

Cassandra Cain stood beside Tim. Upon looking at the both of them it was quite clear that the two of them were running neck-and-neck for the coveted title of Most Somber Presence at a Major Funeral. Although Stephanie could have explained Batgirl's presence away by remembering that she and Connor had gone out a couple of times, she felt no real desire to hide herself away from something that was so obvious.

Cass was here for Tim, just like all the rest of Tim's friends were. They were all friends that he had made outside of Gotham City. Away from her. Tim didn't need her now. Maybe he never did.

Stephanie suddenly realized that she had already wasted enough time here. If she was going to reintroduce herself to Cass and Tim then she would have done it already. It was a far too complicated matter. Just like she told Bruce once before, there were probably better ways of saying I love you than telling your ex that you had taken his job. She had a new life now just as Tim did with the Titans and with Cassandra. It would have been rude to interfere with that.

Yes, she had a lot of reasons not to speak with Cass and Tim. Stephanie figured if she kept reminding herself of how many there were then she could keep telling herself that she was right to walk away.

* * *

_Metropolis_

Kara Zo'rel could have watched her cousin from space if she were inclined to do so. However, the young woman believed that the crumbling expanse of a fallen office building seemed to better suit the situation. She kept her blue eyes locked on Superman, _her _Superman, as he carried away an enormous pile of rubble as easily as most people would carry their newspaper into the house. Kara smiled brightly at the good man who had taken her in with open arms when she didn't even know herself. Being able to see him, the world's greatest hero, from this distant perspective had allowed her to see what an extraordinary symbol of strength her cousin was in a way that she couldn't have done on Themyscria or the Kent farm or even from Gotham.

"Quite the sight, innit?"

Kara turned towards Lloyd, her unexpected companion as he strolled along the broken street side to stand at Kara's side. It was his magic that kept the both of them cloaked from Superman's phenomenal senses. He was clad in a modest, brown sweater and faded blue jeans and was watching Kal-El with an expression that Kara couldn't quite read with only a cursory glance. Determined to figure out this temporary mystery, Kara searched Lloyd's face intently from the corner of her eye. She had hoped that she had been subtle with her efforts but the fact that Lloyd soon turned to stare back at her while arching his eyebrows had proven otherwise.

"_Damn mind reader," _Kara thought.

"I heard that, pet."

Kara groaned audibly, a reaction that pitched Lloyd forward into a wave of chuckles and guffaws. As Lloyd's laughter grew louder and longer, he started to notice the anger and irritation on the face of the fair-haired young woman and moved quickly to right himself.

"Sorry about that, Zo'rel."

Kara accepted Lloyd's apology with a polite nod. "It's okay. I just don't feel comfortable with anybody playing around with my thoughts."

Lloyd nodded as well before turning his attention to the action on the streets. Superman was introducing himself to a young girl who couldn't have been any older than four whose eyes were still red from crying. The girl's father had been crushed by falling debris during the battle and an EMT was comforting the child while trying to find someone that would now how to contact the rest of the girl's family. Superman took over for the EMT and knelt down to take the sobbing little heap of a girl into his arms. Though the words he spoke to her were reassuring in strong, his tone was soft and understanding.

"So what is he thinking?" Kara asked.

Lloyd arched his eyebrows once again before turning to look at Kara with a sideways glance. "Thought you didn't like me muckin' about in people's noggins."

"I only meant mine," Kara replied. "As far as I'm concerned, everybody else is fair game."

Though the statement was clearly told in jest, Kara's words nevertheless drew quite a bit of intrigue from the British telepath. "Not exactly the thoughts of a Girl Scout there, pet. Don't think your cousin would approve of such language."

"Humor me." There was a definite twinkle in Kara's impossibly blue eyes but the rest of her lean face was hard and serious.

Lloyd shrugged his shoulders and focused his attention on the spit-curled Kryptonian. It was only a small trouble to work through the alien's mental defenses and soon he was weaving through the barriers with the ease and grace of a ballroom dancer.

"Interestin' potpourri we got there," Lloyd rasped out. "Lot of grief and personal failure rattlin' about as one can imagine. A bit of relief over the fact that he knew that things could have been a damn sight worse. E's wonderin' where you are." Lloyd offered Kara the time to sigh and shake her head before he continued with his results. "Most of all he's really bloody focused on makin' sure he keeps movin'. He thinks that if he stops he's not sure if he's going to be able to get started up again. He's honestly just looking to do some good and tryin' to give the people something to look up to, somethin' that tells everyone that things are gonna get better."

"Wow," Kara softly replied.

"Suppose that's what makes 'im the big cheese in the hero world," Lloyd said. "Unabashed humility, a desire to protect others and all the rest of that bunk."

Kara noted the slight semblance of derision and the significant presence of awe in Lloyd's voice. "That's who I have to measure myself against." Kara could see that Lloyd appeared to be quite ready to debate that point but she cut him off. "Look at him, Lloyd. He's strong, he's confident, and he's a true hero!"

"He didn't take on the Society when they were at full strength." Lloyd countered. "He didn't have to toss aside his morals to do what needed to be done and he didn't take down the Anti-Monitor."

Kara shook her head. "I know I said that I was ready for this kind of life but I'm still not really sure. I'm a killer, Lloyd. And we're going into hiding now but what happens when they find us? What am I going to say to my cousin? How am I supposed to even look him in the eye?"

The young woman looked dismally to the ground. She found a stray bit of rubble near her feet and she worked out a sliver of her frustrations by giving it a tiny kick. "This isn't what I thought what my life would be like. I thought it would be so much simpler."

Lloyd watched the chunk of rubble skitter across the cracks in the pavement. "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

"Say what?"

Kara's acute confusion only served to amuse Lloyd. "Wot? Ya never got around to readin' Frost back at that little Amazon tropical resort of yours?"

The look of befuddlement on Kara's face was a clear indication that she had not.

"Robert Frost. Bloody brilliant poet, even if he was a Yank. The poem's about a bloke who comes to a crossroads in his life and chooses the more difficult path over what everybody else is doin'." Lloyd bent down and picked up his own stray bit of rubble and threw it. "I don't know, I guess what I'm trying to say is that it may seem rough now but all the roads lead to the same place. 'S no good worryin' on about it. Besides, you aren't exactly a lone traveler, are you?"

"I guess I'm not," said Kara. Though she may not have known who Robert Frost was, she felt strangely appreciative of Lloyd's gesture of introducing him to her. Without really knowing why, she began to laugh.

"Wot's that for?" Lloyd asked with a hint of irritation. After all, he was trying to be friendly.

"You never really struck me as a poetry reader, Lloyd," Kara replied.

Lloyd shrugged his shoulders once again. "'M not really. Truth is, Mao's the one who made me read it. Wanted me to expand my horizons, he said."

Although Kara knew very little about Lloyd's mysterious former boss outside of what Stephanie had told her and what Bruce was willing to disclose, the wistful tone in Lloyd's voice clearly meant that the man meant a great deal to him. "So what does he think about you working with Batman full-time?" Kara asked kindly.

Lloyd blew out a ragged breath before replying. "'E said he was all for it. Can't say I'm surprised. After all, it's exactly what he was hopin' would happen."

"But?"

Lloyd turned his full attention to Kara. "I don't know," he said wearily. "I just didn't think it would be such a clean break. I mean, even when I left Hong Kong it was as if he was passin' me off into somebody's hands and he didn't even want to bother sayin' goodbye. It was like I was just another faceless worker that didn't even have to be remembered once I was gone. I just thought I meant more than that."

Kara found herself frowning. She soon also found herself rubbing Lloyd's shoulder with a warm hand. "I'm sorry."

Lloyd gave Kara a fleeting smile. "Sorry for bein' all down in the dumps. Maybe I'm just lettin' all this new shite get to me. New town, new boss, new way of thinking. This wasn't a road I thought I'd be traveling down."

"Then it's a good thing you're not alone then, huh?"

* * *

_Gotham City- Batman Reserve Shelter No. 29_

Noah Kuttler boringly observed the digital pathways that he had employed to accomplish his latest task. He refrained from drumming his fingers and chose to take another sip from the long-stale cup of coffee that Alfred had prepared for him several hours ago. Swallowing thickly, the hacker turned his attention to the current source of his emotional antagonism.

"Mister Grayson, though I do appreciate and sympathize with your dilemma, perhaps you would be so kind as to make your decision. I have a great many pressing matters to attend to."

Dick Grayson gave the Calculator a look of undisguised annoyance. He continued to pace about anxiously while polishing off the scrumptious remains of one of Alfred's highly sought after carrot-and-raisin muffins.

"You've been here 19 hours a day for the past week, Calculator," Nightwing said through gritted teeth. "If you had anything better to do then you would have already done it by now."

Noah parried Dick's verbal sparring with a harsh scoff. "Well, you'll pardon me for my impatience but I am currently being asked to construct the world's most enhanced communications network while simultaneously compiling a criminal database that would make the Federal Bureau of Investigations green with envy. Though my quest is significantly aided with the technology provided by our mutual employer, I still find that this undertaking is very time-consuming. So much so that I simply do not have the time to mope about while pondering whether or not I should contact my former colleagues to let them know I am still alive."

"Well, my former colleagues aren't out to kill me for being a spy," Nightwing said acidly. "And I hope you'll pardon _me _if I just come right out and say that I'm not altogether pleased with Batman's choice to replace Oracle."

"Oh, have my endeavors to save life as we know it interfered with your attempts to win back your schoolboy crush?" Noah asked derisively. "You have my sincerest apologies, Mister Grayson."

"You sent assassins in to try and take out the Birds of Prey. You put them and the lives of others in danger."

"Spies within all milieus are asked to make uncomfortable decisions, Nightwing. I'm certain you are intelligent enough to realize that I had to allow certain activities to take place in order to maintain secrecy and acquire necessary information."

"So was Star City being blown to smithereens an activity you allowed to take place?" Nightwing asked caustically. Dick knew that was a low blow even before he said it but he felt that some things had to be said.

To Dick's credit, the question did manage to ruffle Noah's feathers. "If there was anyway that I could have done to prevent the destruction of Star City I assure that I would have done it. Perhaps if your associates among the Teen Titans and the Outsiders were not too busy bickering at one another then they could have put a stop to it. Furthermore, I assure you that if it was ever my intention of putting an end to Barbara Gordon's cuckoo's nest it would have been done." Noah knew he wasn't behaving any more maturely than Nightwing but his rising nervousness was making it hard to continue playing the part of the detached professional.

Nightwing stepped forward and stared down at Noah through the slits of his domino mask. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because Batman seems to trust you," he said coldly. "However, let me tell you right here and now that there are a lot of reasons why I chose to stay here that I didn't point out back at the Fortress of Solitude and the fact that I don't trust you is at the top of that list."

Noah's eyes narrowed. You didn't have to be a master detective to recognize that he had grown weary of listening to the young detective's rude but not entirely unfair accusations.

"Batman trusts me with his information and secrets," the information broker replied stiffly. "If that does not satiate your doubts then I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do for you to convince you further."

"Well, I'm sorry if I require clarification as to why Bruce trusts you and why I should have any trust in you whatsoever. Maybe I should bring Tim back to Gotham and see if he can give me the answer." Noah visibly blanched upon Nightwing's merciless suggestion. "Or maybe you can tell him why a woman who had done everything she could to save Jack Drake's life should be replaced by the very man who had all but organized his murder."

Noah shrunk away from Nightwing's blazing eyes. The hacker's pretense of standoffishness was shattered to bits and he couldn't even hope to look Nightwing in the eyes. When he spoke again, it was with a haunted whisper.

"Damn it, do you want to speak with the Outsiders are not?"

The combination of the timbre in Noah's voice and his shrunken posture gave Nightwing pause. He could sense the sorrow in the older man's voice and he suddenly found himself very uncertain as to where to go with what he was saying. "No," he replied. "No, I don't."

Nightwing quickly turned to walk out of the room. His hasty pace put him halfway between the mainframe terminal and the exit before Noah could work up the courage to speak again.

"I can understand your reservations, Mister Grayson. All I can ask is to use your own eyes and then decide."

Dick stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at his erstwhile comrade-in-arms.

"Believe me, Mr. Kuttler, I plan on keeping my eyes open around you."

* * *

_Forest Hills Cemetery_

Both Alfred and Bruce were quietly grateful that their duty had thus far been a quiet affair. They had worked at the gravesite for the past five hours and no tabloid newspaper photographer or roving media jockey had learned of or caught sight of Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy and Gotham's favorite son. Neither one of them currently had the desire or the inclination to put on the façade of the spoiled fop and his eternally patient butler. Jason didn't deserve that and both men knew that there would be time for that later.

Stephanie was the first to arrive. She was still wearing the black blouse and skirt set that Alfred had seen her wearing at Connor Kent's funeral earlier in the day. Apparently deciding that her usual "grand entrance wreathed in green" would be inappropriate, she walked into the funeral ground with quiet, short strides. Despite her wind-swept hair so obviously brought about from the velocity of a cross-country flight she looked astonishingly collected and reserved. For the briefest moment, it was hard for either gentleman to believe that this dour young woman was the same blonde-haired tempest that had so insisted upon being a part of this and a part of their lives. The slight smile and the cheerful wink she gave to them as she came closer did a great deal to remind Alfred and Bruce just who they were dealing with.

Kara and Lloyd were next as they approached from the south end of the cemetery only moments later. The both of them gave Alfred slight, salutatory nods as they came closer towards the gravesite. Kara made certain to place a hand on Bruce's shoulder and ask if he was all right. Bruce quietly told the young lady that he was and sincerely thanked her for her concern.

If Alfred had been inclined to speak upon the matter he would have given the both of them his words of approval.

Richard was the last to arrive. The hum of his motorcycle indicated his arrival well before Alfred could catch sight of him. He was immaculately dressed in a somber, charcoal ensemble and was a long ways away from the young boy who would refuse to eat his Brussels sprouts or the trickster who would sneak out of bed so he could play Nintendo all night long. It was both a shock and a pleasant surprise when Alfred learned that Dick had chosen to remain in Gotham. The butler was already looking forward to reconnecting with the young man that had left to find his own place in the world so long ago.

"Is Noah coming?" Bruce asked calmly.

Dick avoided his father's gaze for just long enough to draw suspicion (which is to say nearly no time at all).

"No, he chose to stay behind." At his father's upturned eyebrow: "Okay, I didn't exactly forward your invite." Bruce _hmmed_ and turned his attention back to the exquisitely designed casket and the body of the young man inside of it.

"Manage to get a hold of your old mates?" Lloyd asked Dick softly.

"No, no. I just couldn't really work myself up to do it," Dick replied with a sigh.

"Me too," Stephanie said. Her response was so quiet that it didn't even seem like she was the one who was talking.

"Same here," Kara added glumly.

"Don't worry about it, mates." Lloyd's voice was also subdued but it still held a note of encouragement. "We'll all find the right moment. 'Sides, it's not like we still don't have each other."

"Yeah, us misfits have got to stay together," Stephanie replied. None of the figures within the cemetery responded to Stephanie's comment but there was not one whit of evidence that anyone disagreed with the statement.

Bruce purposely cleared his throat before speaking, a gesture that not only served to gather the attention to the others but also to give him something to start from; a conscious signal to prepare himself for what was to come.

"The first time I had met Jason Todd he was trying to steal the front tire of the Batmobile. When I caught him, I don't really know why I didn't just frighten him aside and send him on his way. I'm still not entirely certain why I chose to bring him into my life. Perhaps I was hoping to see the good of Gotham by trying to help someone who would have otherwise fallen to the wayside. Maybe I was searching for someone that could shine a light into the darkness I constantly wrap around myself. And try as I might, I'm not entirely certain that I could tell you who Jason Todd was before or after what the Joker did to him. He was a mystery; a young man who could be the sweetest of souls at one moment and the vilest of creatures the moment after. It pains me that I couldn't help him channel his anger and the fact that there isn't anyone else that can speak about Jason from a more knowledgeable perspective is a disgrace to a young man who deserved so much more than he was given."

"It's just like you said, Bruce," Kara said softly. "The only thing we can do is honor and remember him. The world may have forgotten about him but we have to make certain that we won't forget about him."

"Wonderfully put, Miss Zo'rel." Alfred's tone was the quintessence of appreciation.

A pregnant silence now loomed over the cemetery as the six people within the cemetery searched to describe Jason Todd.

"He called me a whacked-out bitch. That's how I'll remember him." Stephanie said with a straight-faced expression so thorough that it was obviously not the least bit genuine. The timely statement caused both Dick and Lloyd to sputter out barely restrained laughter that Stephanie quickly joined in on. Kara was sorely tempted to playfully smack the boys on the shoulder and chastise Stephanie for her comment but a slight gust of wind from the south had attracted her attention.

"Uh, guys. We've got company."

The others were quick to follow Kara's gaze. Two figures were moving towards them. Though they were quite unexpected visitors, it was no trouble at all for any of them to recognize either Billy Batson or Kal-L.

* * *

_Crime Alley_

Alexander Luthor felt frustration. Utter, unadulterated and undiluted frustration. He made no attempt to hide his aggravation as he watched the people of Gotham walk down the rain-soaked streets.

_Are they so wrapped up in their meaningless lives that they couldn't see that something was terribly wrong? Couldn't they see that this world could be so much better? _

He was clad in a long, brown waistcoat and a gray, business suit. The attire made him indistinguishable from the hundreds upon hundreds of Gothamites moving around him. As much as he loathed hiding within the common rabble, Alexander was smart enough to recognize the necessity of it. His encounter with Billy Batson and his failed attempt to revive the multi-verse had momentarily deprived him of his energy and ability to manipulate anti-matter. To take on any of his many opponents in a deprived state would have been phenomenally foolish. However, a week had passed since his ignoble defeat at the hands of Shazam's replacement and Alexander had regained the bulk of his power. His desire to repay those who had ruined his ambitions was quickly becoming an itch that spread through every part of him that he couldn't soothe.

Still, he knew that his plans would require a great deal of preparation. He would need to find allies and gather resources. He would have to search for another foothold within this warped world and reality whose mere presence sickened him.

Alexander cast a final, contemptuous look at the headline of _The Gotham Post_: **Heroes Save Earth!: Celebrations Globally**. "The fools. It isn't saved, but it will be. It will just take another plan. My calculations have already begun. I will make this world a brighter place. I _will _make it perfect."

Throwing the paper aside, Luthor turned to walk into a nearby alleyway in his efforts to distance himself from the hell he had been forced to inhabit. He could feel the scant drizzle of an evening shower fall onto his fedora and the sensation only served to further fray his sensibilities to the point that Alexander didn't even realize that he was alone.

"Excuse me."

The red-haired man turned sharply to cast an angry glare at the bald, ragged-looking black man that had accosted him. Blood was seeping through a hole in the man's tattered coat and he was sweating profusely despite the rain and the brisk, winter air wafting through the narrow alleyway. Alexander watched as the stranger continued to stumble towards him until he was within arm's length. He noticed the glint of a police badge and the familiar insignia indicating that the man was a member of the Gotham City Police Department. A slight, niggling sensation had surfaced in the back of Alexander but the young man paid it little heed.

"What am I?" The man murmured. "What happened to me?"

Having had enough of the entire affair, Alexander forcibly shoved the man aside. He turned away from the stranger as he tumbled messily to the ground.

"I don't have any time for you."

The young man only made it ten steps before he heard the man's fatigued voice call out to him once again.

"Alexander Luthor."

Luthor began to turn around. By now he was half-inclined to kill the man simply so he would no longer have to hear his voice. It didn't occur to him that there was absolutely no reason why the man should have known his name. By the time he did realize that it was far too late.

Alex was forcibly shoved into the trash-strewn, brick wall of the alleyway. He panicked and struggled to breathe as he attempted to thrash away from the impossibly strong hand wrapped around his neck. What was once a decrepit looking man was now a tall, pale-bodied creature that Luthor knew all too well. The livid glare that the creature cast upon him with its hollow, green eyes was all that Luthor needed to realize that he was about to die and as he felt his strength and life drain away from him. The realization stripped him of his many grand designs or machinations and left him only with the aching question of how everything had managed to go wrong.

"VENGEANCE WILL BE HAD!"

The Spectre brought its divine power to bear and watched with great satisfaction as Alexander Luthor burned to ashes.

* * *

_Forest Hills Cemetery_

"We weren't exactly expecting you," Bruce said quite honestly.

Billy Batson bowed his head. It was an apologetic gesture that Bruce and the others found to be unnecessary but oddly endearing. "We apologize for interrupting your time of mourning, Mister Wayne. However, we also wish to honor this good soul that sacrificed everything he had in order to defend the safety of all that lives."

"Jason wasn't fighting for the sake of others." Bruce's statement served both as a retort as well as a statement of grudging fact.

"But he spent the last moments of his life making certain that you were safe," Batson interrupted. "No matter what his spoken intentions and no matter how far he had drifted off the path of sanity I know you realize that a small part of him that remembered you and honored what you attempted to help him become wished to see you well."

Batman could only shake his head. He wanted to agree with what Billy was saying. He wanted to more than anything but his mind nearly always held precedence over his heart. "I wish I could say that I agreed with you."

Batson clearly saw the tension in Bruce's eyes. "With all necessary modesties and due respects to your intelligence Mister Wayne, allow me to remind you that I am possessed with the wisdom of Solomon. I assure you that I know what I am talking about."

Batman found that he couldn't quite work up what he needed to smile but he certainly felt the desire to do so.

"Bruce, I may not know a great deal about Jason but I do know a great deal about you." Kal-L's voice was clear, strong and absolutely devoid of self-doubt and trepidation. "You chose to do what you needed to do to try and make the world a better place. Through your actions you've given the world an opportunity to grow stronger and wiser. Jason's sacrifice was one of those actions. Don't let this young man's death be in vain."

Bruce looked up to stare at the aged Kryptonian while the misfits around him stared at him. After a moment of silence, the middle-aged crimefighter walked up to reality's greatest hero and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're as infuriating as the Clark that I know," Bruce said flatly.

Kal-L had no problem taking that statement as a compliment.

"Oi, old man. If you don't mind my askin'," Lloyd asked, "just what do you plan on doin' now?"

If Kal-L was any ways offended by Lloyd's asperity he gave no visible hint of it. "Well, it seems that Mister Batson here thinks that he could use a helping hand with his new job and since I'm still alive and kicking I figured that I could lend a hand. I really think that it's what Lois would have wanted." Kal-L paused in his speech as he was seemingly struck by a sudden thought. "Come to think of it, it's what I want too. When I meet Lois again, I'd like to be able to look her in the eye."

"You're selling yourself short, Superman." Nightwing said bluntly.

"Maybe I am, son. Still, with you guys around at least I know that I'll be in good company."

"Speak for yourself, old man," Stephanie challenged. "I hold myself in the highest of esteems."

Kal-L didn't quite know what to say to such a bold and egotistical statement. Fortunately, Stephanie's teammates had no trouble at all expressing their displeasure. He observed the people around them and wistfully shook his head. Although he may not have had any idea where his life was going now, he had to admit that the trip ahead of him looked pretty interesting.

Ten minutes had passed since Billy Batson and Kal-L had said their goodbyes. Both men had asked if they could help them refill the plot but Bruce kindly refused the offer. The detective momentarily pondered the possibility of attempting to tell the children to go home but realized that the attempt would have been a waste of time. He knew they wouldn't leave him that easily.

"So, wot do _we_ do now?" Lloyd asked as he shoveled the last stray mound of dirt onto the plot.

Bruce took a moment to stare at the headstone before burying the spade of his shovel into the hard dirt. "We rebuild our operation from the ground up. Wayne Manor needs to be rebuilt. Noah is already compiling our informational database but patrol routes need to be established. We'll also have to begin extensive combat training so we can expand our individual capabilities as well as learn how to best function as a team. Also, since we all agreed that we will be working covertly then we will have to make certain our efforts our done as covertly as possible. The fewer people that know about the extent of our intentions the more successful our operation will be. Now, I understand that these tasks may seem daunting but I don't want us to become just another team of superheroes. We're not going to strive to become the Justice League, we're going to surpass them."

Lloyd slowly nodded his head and pursed his lips. "That's great, boss. Still, I was goin' more along the lines of what were we going to be doing tonight."

Bruce couldn't quite come up with an answer to that.

"Miniature golf's always a nice option," Nightwing offered. "There's an indoor course just off of Walnut Avenue that I've been looking to try out."

"Yeah, that's pretty much the _last_ place anybody'd be looking for us," Lloyd said quite honestly.

"Let's go bowling!" Kara recommended excitedly.

"Bowling?" Stephanie asked.

The flabbergasted tone in Stephanie's voice did nothing to dim Kara's exuberance. "I like those funny shoes they make you wear," she explained. "And the last time I went bowling with the Kents I hid the pins so hard with my bowling ball that they disintegrated. I was kind of hoping I could work on my technique."

Stephanie sighed. "Well, as much as I like unnecessary destruction I think I'd just like to go one night without having something around me explode. How about we take in a movie? I still haven't seen the new remake of _King Kong_."

"Forget about it, Robin," Nightwing said in a sagely tone but with a toothy grin. "Just see the original. We all know the original is always the best."

"Screw you, Nightthing," Stephanie said sourly.

Alfred and Bruce looked on silently as Dick, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie made their way out of the cemetery while recommending potential social outings that grew more and more ridiculous. The two older men soon padded along behind the squabbling youngsters at a distance that they believed was far enough to keep them from being drawn into the noise in front of them. As they passed the northern gate, the men each took one side of the gate and shut the iron bars in place.

"Well, it appears that we have acquired a great many guests," Alfred said with a great deal of resign. "I imagine that things will be a great deal more raucous and disorderly than before."

"There's little doubt of that," Bruce required with equal foreboding.

Alfred winced as Stephanie shouted out a particularly offensive display of profane language. "My goodness. I imagine that this experience will be quite taxing upon my constitution."

Bruce smiled thinly as he locked the gate.

"Yes, it will be quite a burden."

The two men continued moving forward.


	28. All Quiet on the Gotham Front

Issue #28

All Quiet on the Gotham Front

"Good evening, I'm Renee Richardson and this is Gotham Action News. Tonight, we'll speak with Senator Thomas Langstrom about his plan to provide funding for Gotham City's interstate system, find out why a certain flea medication may help pet owners as much as their pets, and we'll catch you up on all the biggest stories in sports. However, we'll begin with tonight's top story: A Tale of Two Cities. Now only a week shy from the anniversary of the horrific attack on Star City that left nearly 150,000 dead, the once proud seaport has begun to show signs of recovery. Although relief aid has poured into Star City from a variety of government agencies, charities and private investors all around the world, Michael Griffith reports that our fair city has played quite a sizable hand in the city's hasty recovery."

Cut away. Display of graphic. Flash. A picture of a smoking pit of gravel and metal.

"This was the scene that the world bore witness to a mere 51 weeks ago. The results of an attack that held little warning and even less mercy for those caught within it. All prognostications had given the city absolutely no chance of restoring itself to the glory it once was after suffering from what is now considered to be the most devastating terrorist action in recorded history. However, as Star City prepares to observe the one-year anniversary of the attacks, there is an undeniable feeling of hope now coinciding with the lingering horror."

Cut away. A snippet of a press conference. Mayor Oliver Queen.

"While we all have to remember that there's still a great deal to be done, it's important that we remember just how far we've come along to bring the city we love back to what it should be. We should congratulate ourselves as well as thank all the people throughout the world that have been kind enough to lend a hand. While the government bigwigs stood by, the good people around the world stepped in."

A shot of children playing within a recently constructed playground. The correspondent's voice carries over the ambient noise. "And a great deal of the thanks appear to be reserved for the people of Gotham City. Of the near 600 million dollars that have been poured into Star City's reconstruction, over half of it has been produced by businesses and public donations originating from Gotham."

Another press conference. A caption at the bottom of the screen. Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

"Although it is hardly fair to compare the atrocities that occurred in Star City to the earthquakes that rocked our city four years ago, the people of Gotham know about losing everything and having no one to turn to. While Gotham fell into ruins and languished within federally mandated expulsion, many of the people of our city were forced to squalor in conditions that no decent human being should be forced to endure. If it is within our capabilities, the good people of Gotham will not allow our lackadaisical federal government to turn this town into another No Man's Land."

Griffith again. "Although Fox's statements have drawn the critical ire of Capitol Hill, popular mandate appears to side with the people of Gotham. And Gotham's new face is not merely limited to its displays of charity. Over the past year, Gotham City has experienced its own figurative rising from the ashes, most specifically in its' war on crime. Recent studies have shown crime rates dropping across the board, including a whopping 85 percent reduction in violent crime."

An aged, Hispanic woman appears on the screen. There is the distinct appearance of the shadow of a boom mike behind her, indicating a hasty shot preparation. "It feels wonderful to be able to feel safe about walking the streets at night. It's wonderful to take pride in the city you grew up in."

Griffith once again. "A number of different reasons have been offered to explain this sudden drastic decrease in violent crime. Some attribute the changes to the policies enacted by recently re-elected police commissioner James Gordon, others suggest the increased funding and security measures put into place at Gotham City's prisons and containment facilities. Others, on the other hand, credit a different source."

A young, black teenager sporting a Gotham Knights football jersey. He is surrounded by his friends, neighbors, and an assortment of rubberneckers. "I'm tellin' ya'll, it's the Bat!" A chorus of cheers erupts from the miniature mob. "That's why you ain't hearin' nothin' about all those messed up freaks like The Joker or whatever. B-Man's takin' it to 'em!"

Noah Kuttler hit the mute button on his remote control before he was forced to break into hysterical laughter.

Comfortably ensconced within a work center located well below the recently reconstructed Wayne Manor, Noah Kuttler hardly looked like a man who would have a 10-million dollar bounty placed on his head by the League of Assassins. Tall as a stalk of corn and thin as a rail, the Misfits' resident computer expert wore a simple, white work suit and brown business slacks supported by unflattering, black suspenders. With a modest pair of wire-rimmed glasses on the ridge of his nose and thinning, straw-blonde hair on his head, the 45-year-old man was a symbol of the non-extraordinary.

Alfred Pennyworth stood behind him, carrying a gleaming, silver tray holding a bran muffin and a cup of exquisitely prepared Earl Grey tea. "Quite the glowing recommendation, wouldn't you agree, Master Kuttler?"

The Calculator turned towards Alfred and gratefully accepted both of the proffered items. "Alfred, please call me Noah. I insist. And yes, it is quite impressive, especially considering the fact that Batman hasn't set foot in Gotham in the past seven months." Noah took a healthy bite of the muffin, audibly reveling in the smoothness and texture of the after-dinner treat. "Personally, I find your baking talents to be far more impressive than anything Bruce has ever done."

"You have my gratitude, Master Kuttler." Noah was far too wrapped up marveling over the taste of the tea to reprimand the butler for ignoring his earlier request. "I had hardly anticipated your watching the local news, sir. I would have imagined that you would be focused upon making your nightly rounds."

Noah took some time out to dabble a stray crumb that had maneuvered its way onto his cheek with his handkerchief. "As it so happens, I was planning on doing just that."

* * *

_Wayne Enterprises, Paris Branch_

"Can you not understand a single word coming out of my mouth, Frog Girl! The only thing that I asked out of you was a properly prepared plate of Peking duck with orange sauce! Does this look like what it should look like, dimwit, 'cause it sure doesn't taste like it. I've chewed on radial tires that have better texture than this piece of crap!"

The exceptionally flustered secretary had no idea what to make of the raging young man who looked ready to jam his steak knife into her jugular. "I'm. . . I'm so sorry, Mister Grayson! I'll contact the head chef at Le Domaine de Lintillac and have him prepare a fresh serving for you right away."

That hardly appeased the raging man. "Do you have any idea of who I am? My name is Richard Grayson! I am Bruce Wayne's ward! Have you heard of Bruce Wayne? He's that guy who signs the checks that you cash in to pay for your cheese and your goofy-ass berets. Now, I'm going to be running this company one day and I don't really have the time to wait another 20 minutes for something that will probably taste no better than a fried Snickers bar!"

The intensity of Dick's tirade swelled with each passing sentence, so much so that the harried secretary

Looked quite ready to flee the premises. Her savior arrived in the form of a middle-aged man immaculately dressed in a tuxedo hand-stitched by Milan's finest tailors. His face was still bright and exuberant despite the fact that it was nearly four in the morning and he had spent the last six hours socializing with the most prominent figures throughout Europe. "Come on, son. It's all right. We'll be back at the hotel in a few minutes and we can get something to eat there. Janine, how about you go home and get some well-deserved rest?"

Janine was all too happy to accept the man's recommendation, hurriedly scooting away from the fuming young man. As he shut the door behind him as the secretary raced off, the older man's amiable facial expression melted away almost immediately, revealing a much more sober appearance that bordered slightly upon mild exasperation. Dick's expression also underwent a rapid transformation, his seemingly unquenchable rage morphing into a somewhat sheepish, but clearly visible grin.

"Was all that really necessary?"

The costumed hero known as Nightwing merely shrugged. "Hey! You were the one who said that I should make myself look more like Bruce Wayne's son. I'm telling you, it's all about following the act. Any psychologist will tell you that it's only natural for the only child of a billionaire fop to carry an unnatural level of hostility towards the people he gives orders to."

"That display was ludicrously beyond the point of unnatural."

"This is coming from a man who once told an interviewer from _The New York Times_ that he thought _Of Human Bondage _was about sadomasochism. Trust me, Bruce. I've got a looong way to go before I could possibly reach the degree of public humiliation that you have accomplished."

"I suppose that's fair enough," Bruce replied. "Although I would check your plate the next time we stop by Lintillac."

"Which is hopefully never," Nightwing fired back. "Bruce, as much as I liked the concept of the year-long whirlwind tour of the world when we first left Gotham, I'm more than ready to head back home. I never thought that I'd say this, but I'm starting to miss Bludhaven's local cuisine."

The world's greatest detective refrained from openly shuddering his son's desire for fast food. "You're still staying in the Manor, aren't you?"

"Oh, sure. Still though, with Kara, Lloyd, and Steph around it shouldn't be too much trouble making the commute. Besides, unless something really big is happening, I'll be of more use in Bludhaven."

The sound of twin ring tones chimes out throughout the expansive penthouse that stood at the highest floor of the office building. Bruce and Dick held a silent argument over who would answer the call before they moved together to respond.

"Good evening, detectives. I trust all is going well in the City of Lights?"

"You don't trust, Calculator, you know," Dick scoffed. "You're watching us right now, aren't you?"

"Mister Grayson, I am far too important a person to be using my extensive satellite network to watch your every move. After all, I have a duty to the good people of Gotham City. Also, for the record, your attempts at acting like a spoiled heir to a multibillion dollar corporation was laughably forced. If you'd like, I can direct you to the nearest Parisian actors guild."

Dick moved towards the window and extended his right middle finger, inducing a quiet smidgen of laughter from the other end of the line. As immature as the entire display was, Bruce couldn't help but be pleased by the good humor. Though there was still a thin level of hostility between his ward and the Misfits' resident technocrat, the last year had certainly softened their barbs.

Still, Bruce felt the need to serve as the authoritative figure. "Calculator, I trust you have more important things to do with my satellite network than seek ammunition for your bickering. What is the status of the rest of the team?"

"Relax, old friend. It's all quiet here. Arkham and Blackgate report no unusual activity, Black Dog and Supergirl should be just about finished with their training exercises, and Robin is off to meet the good commissioner as we speak. You have my assurances that the both of you are quite free to get some much needed shut-eye and further prepare for your return to Gotham in six days time."

"Very well, Calculator. Batman out."

"Nightwing not yet out," Dick interrupted. "Answer Man, don't think I haven't forgotten about our wager. You two may not be saying anything, but I'm going to find out just how you and Bruce knew each other."

Noah's tired sigh was easily heard. "Well, Nightwing, I would say I'm holding my breath but I am currently far too busy to waste time dying due to oxygen deprivation. Now, if you're done with your idle threats, I have to check up on your far more capable replacement."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell Robin I said hi. Nightwing out."

* * *

_Gotham City_

It had been a long time since Jim Gordon could honestly claim that he was happy with the way things were going in his life. In a scant four years, the grizzled, war-horse police officer had lost his standing as Gotham City police commissioner, was forced to turn in his badge, and he had lost his wife to the thanks to the actions of a monster in human form. Now however, as he stood on the rooftop of GCPD headquarters, watching the unmistakable shine of the Batsignal piercing the evening winter skies, the old man was once again beginning to have respect for the man that looked back at him in the mirror.

He had reclaimed his title of GCPD commissioner, the job that he had missed far more than he would ever have liked to admit. Though there was still a smattering of controversy and strife stemming from those who had backed and supported Akins' policies, the reduced crime rate and increased public safety had silenced all but the most ardent of critics. On top of all that, the people at Arkham and Blackgate seemed to now have a genuinely desire to become something more effective at holding convicted criminals in custody than a revolving door.

Yes, he still wished like hell that his dear Sarah could have been here to see what Gotham was threatening to become, but he liked to think that she was happy with the way things were going.

His curmudgeonly companion was in a much fouler mood. "Come on, commish! Just how long are we gonna be waitin' out here! I say we forget the capes and take these coke-pushers down on our own!"

Jim weathered Harvey Bullock's headstrong behavior with a practiced ease. A portly, rough-and-tumble bulldog of a beat cop, Harvey's hard-lined, grating attitude would have been absolutely intolerable if he wasn't damn good at what he did. When it came to helping defend the streets of Gotham, no one had worked with him longer than Harvey.

Save one.

"Harvey, I don't care how big a collar this is, I'm going to do what I need to do to preserve the safety of my officers. If there's a way that I can safely avoid my people from having bullets flying at their heads, I'm going to take it."

Harvey grimaced and growled in the face of his boss's logic, clamping his molars down hard on the toothpick he had been gnawing on. "Look, Jim. It was bad enough when you thought we had to rely on some whacko in a cape and Kevlar to do our job for us. We're not even dealing with the Bat anymore, just a bunch of super-powered kids that you still can't convince me to trust."

Gordon sighed, having grown long-tired of having the same argument with his most-trusted lieutenant. "For the last time, Bullock, you have my word that these kids are on our side and that they are legitimate associates of Batman. If Batman had not personally assured me of that, I wouldn't have let these kids stay on my streets for another second. Now I don't know why Batman chose to leave Gotham but if he believes that these young people can do what needs to be done until he comes back then I'll believe him. He's earned that trust."

"Thanks for the compliment, Commish. I knew there was a reason I put you on my Christmas list."

Jim tried not to be surprised by the voice that seemingly came from nowhere. After all, after nearly twenty years of associating with people with the penchant for appearing from the shadows, you tended to work up a tolerance for these things. Still, the light, cheery voice did cause him to startle, if only slightly. Bullock, on the other hand, was completely thrown; stumbling backward in a startled lurch that nearly caused him to fall on his ample backside.

Stephanie Brown seemed to find the display to be quite amusing, looking quite like the cat that ate the canary, a rather ironic expression given the young lady's codename.

Jim had been quite surprised when he had first met Batman's newest replacement as Robin, especially considering the fact that he had read the young lady's autopsy report a mere seven months ago. He had certainly had his reservations about her capabilities, but the transformation that the young woman had undergone in front of his eyes had convinced him that Batman had chosen wisely. Though she had always been physically fit, her body was now an archetype of efficiency: thin, muscular arms and toned legs with little unnecessary mass to undermine her mobility. Though she tended to be a bit smart-mouthed and prone to unnecessary hijinks, her behavior and conduct under fire was a clear indication that she took her work seriously. Although he had been leery of working with people who displayed powers that were well beyond that of normal people, the young lady seemed to know what she was doing with it and Gordon was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as Batman's other replacements had.

"Are you flying solo tonight, Robin? Where's Black Dog and Supergirl?" Gordon asked.

Stephanie put her right hand to her neck, rolling her head in slow, lazy circles. "Kara and Lloyd finished their rounds early and decided to go do some last-minute training." She locked eyes with Gordon as she flamboyantly placed her hands on her hips. "What? You don't think I can handle this?" she asked in a playful manner.

"I'm merely curious," Jim replied coolly. The commissioner heard the buzz of Robin's communicator and moved to turn off the Batsignal as she moved to answer her call.

"Yo! C.C.! What it is?" Gordon shook his head as Robin began to pace back and forth on the snowy rooftop. "Oh, relax won't you! I am where I need to be, aren't I? Yep, yep, I'm on the rooftop as we speak." She turned back to him. "Hey, Commissioner! Want to say hello?"

Jim waved the sincere offer aside. Try as he might, he couldn't quite yet work himself up to speak directly with the man who had replaced his daughter. He was trying to have an open mind, but even he had limits.

Robin shrugged her shoulders. "Okay dokey. Any new developments with our situation at Blanchard Avenue? Spot any unexpected arrivals or departures? Goody, we can take 'em all down in one fell swoop. Okay, all I've got left to do is confirm the facts with Jim and I'll be on my way. Robin out."

As Robin hung her communicator back onto her belt, she decided to finally pay attention to Bullock, who had been spending the last fifteen seconds seemingly attempting to burn a hole through her head with the look in his eyes. "You should be careful, Harv. You're face could freeze that way."

"Get a real kick out of that, don't ya? What is it with you caped freaks? You can't get your jollies unless you come poppin' out of the shadows?!"

"I wouldn't say I get my jollies from it," Robin replied. "As far as excitement value goes, I say surprising you ranks somewhere between riding in the Batmobile and eating a plate of nachos over at La Portona's. I really like the white cheese sauce they put on top. Still, that isn't half as good as the thrill I get when I do your job for you. That just makes me feel all tingly."

"What?! I don't need anyone to do my job for me you little. . ."

"That's enough out of the both of you!" Gordon snapped, working to stop the argument before Harvey had a coronary and Robin laughed herself silly. It still surprised the commissioner that the both of them responded immediately, ceasing their quarrel and snapping to attention. "Robin, the situation is exactly the same as it was an hour ago; about twenty of the Penguin's old goons are preparing to ship nearly three-quarters of a ton of cocaine. We have a man undercover in the outfit and we have a 20-minute window of opportunity before they begin transport to Bludhaven. Gordon handed Robin a photograph of the officer, which she perused as he continued on. "We've got an entire regiment of officers surrounding the warehouse if anything goes wrong, but I'm hoping that this isn't anything you can't handle."

Robin handed the photograph back to Jim. "You hope correctly. All right, my back up is already en route and we'll make our move in when we both get there. If all goes well, you blue boys will have a sweet-looking collar and enough coke to keep the New York Knicks happy for at least a week."

"Just be careful, Robin. I want to make sure that I bring back all his junior partners back in one piece when Batman comes back in a week."

Robin's grin was broad, genuine, and surprisingly infectious. "Will do, Jimbo."

* * *

_Tibet_

Currently levitating in the air at a height of about 12,000 feet above sea level, Kara Zo'rel was one angry Kryptonian.

Over the past 18 months, she had taken on despotic madmen, Kryptonite-powered androids, monsters capable of wielding the supernatural, and Stephanie Brown's home cooking and emerged as the victor far more often than not. She had trained constantly to become stronger, faster, and more cognizant of her extraordinary capabilities and the results were easy to see. In fact, if push came to shove, Kara believed that she was capable of besting even her older cousin.

Now if she could only wipe that smirk off that British boy's face.

Heat vision, freeze breath, astonishing speed and strength, and her own escalating anger; Kara threw everything in her arsenal and then some at Lloyd Thomas and he still kept that smarmy little grin on his face. He shouldn't be able to do this to her, not after all the hard work she had put in. As he continued to avoid her strikes, keeping his long arms crossed over his chest in a half-contemptuous manner, her frustration began to fester.

She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to smile as she felt her fists break his bones and the blood sprayed from his nose and mouth. She longed to beat him to a bloody pulp, freeze his body until he could no longer feel the pain and then melt his bones. No man had the right to insult a child of the House of El.

And that's when Lloyd kicked her in the head.

The blow didn't hurt her physically, but her ego had taken enough of a bruising for her to grab a hold of her brutal mindset. Kara had wanted to feel ashamed or angry, desired to scream or cry, but her fear of doing any of those things left her to continue floating several thousand feet above the summit of Mount Everest. Seconds that seemed like minutes seemed to pass before she let out a groan of frustration and observed the concerned look in Lloyd's hazel eyes.

"You all right, pet?" Lloyd asked softly.

Kara turned to her erstwhile teammate, field leader and teacher with a slightly doleful, but loopy half-grin. "You need to let me hit you. Seriously. 'Cause this whole keep away exercise is really beginning to damage my self-esteem."

Lloyd responded to the request with a gentle chuckle. "Bollocks, Zo'rel. Got no reason to think of yourself too harshly. You know as well as I do that you've improved by leaps and bounds. Remember, I've still got quite the bit of experience over ya."

"Yes, yes. You've got all the telepathy and the magic and all that demon stuff. I know all the reasons why you can still beat me, Lloyd, but I want to know how I can win." Kara replied.

"Well, s'not like you should have expected me to just sit on a log while you toughened up, did ya? Wouldn't do any good if I didn't try and get stronger as well. After all, I'm supposed to be the leader of this band of nutcases now, aren't I?"

"No." Kara said flatly. "Bruce is the boss; you're just the youthful understudy."

Lloyd animatedly clutched at his heart, causing Kara to snigger. "Oh, pet. Cut me to the quick, you do." Kara's laughter caused Lloyd to laugh as well. The tension momentarily broken, the two of them shared their moment of amusement as the winter currents swirled around them.

Kara stopped laughing first. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better after I screwed up, Lloyd."

"Whatcha mean, luv?"

Kara glared at Lloyd, a clear sign that she wanted him to quit dodging the issue. "I lost control of myself again. You read my mind, Lloyd. I was ready to kill you."

"Lots of people want to kill me, Zo'rel."

Kara's reply was soft. "I shouldn't."

Before Lloyd could think of an adequate reply, his communicator demanded his attention. Though the ring tone was nearly impossible to hear over the high winds, Noah's voice was as clear as crystal. "I'm currently recording a temperature of negative 40 degrees Celsius in your current location, children. I do hope the both of you made certain to dress warmly."

Lloyd looked down at his attire of an old, faded black gi worn over black blue jeans and a plain, black t-shirt. Having an internal body chemistry that enabled you to survive the coldness of space left a lot of room open for clothing options. "No worries, Kuttler. Made sure to bring my thermal knickers and an extra sweater. Can't say the same for Zo'rel, however. She's still wearin' that dishrag she calls a costume. As ridiculous as it looks on her though, 'least she changed her knickers from the day before."

Kara chose not to rise to the bait this time. After enduring a near endless barrage of jibes and jokes from her teammates about her choice to wear a belly shirt and a short skirt into battle, she had grown quite inure to it all. "Hi, Noah!" she said over the howl of the wind. She grinned as Lloyd rolled his eyes before relaying her greeting. Soon enough, the discussion turned to what was going on in Gotham. Try as she might, she couldn't quite work up an interest in the conversation and her mind began to drift.

She had worked so hard to overcome her anger in the last year. She had worked so hard to make sense of the undulating eddy of disconnected memories that still haunted her. Everyone had tried to lend a hand and she had been thankful for their efforts, but there were still as many unanswered questions as before. In fact, the only thing that she could truly be assured of is that she probably wouldn't have liked who she was before she had left her home.

_But I do, my dear_.

Kara snapped to attention, startled by the voice that seemed to come from nowhere. _What was that? Who was that? Why did it feel like I heard that voice before? Why? Why can't I remember? _

"Zo'rel? You still with us?"

Now that voice she recognized. Kara shook her head slightly, taking a moment to brush the snow and ice from her long, blonde hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little lost in thought."

Lloyd gave her a look that lingered on a bit too long for Kara's liking. It was a look that told her that this was probably something they were going to have to talk about later. For the time being though, he turned his attention back to the communicator. "All right, Noah. We'll be back in Gotham promptly. Oi, Kara! Anything you want to say to the answer man 'fore we head back?"

"Ask him if there's anyway I can beat you in a straight-up fight." Kara replied half-seriously.

"Right then." Lloyd turned back to his communicator as if he was planning to ask that very question. "He says to show me your knockers. Figures it might seem to distract OWW!! Bloody hell!"

Kara rejoiced as she managed to hit Lloyd with a punch for the first time since the training session had started. Granted, it was a friendly slug to the shoulder, but she'd take what she could get.

* * *

_Gotham City_

Robin had highly underestimated her speed when it came to the matter of finishing up her latest drug bust. Somebody was apparently running low on funds when it came to hiring good help because half of them didn't even know how to shoot their guns straight and the other half were too busy trying to figure out whether they should run away empty handed, run away with some cocaine, or just stand there being scared shitless. For a brief moment, Stephanie considered powering down and refusing to use even the slightest hint of her ring's power, but decided to err on the side of caution. After all, it would have been silly to have her ticket punched by these twits.

Still, this was a group outing and it wouldn't be polite if she decided to hog all the fun.

So she decided to have a little fun.

There was only one man still standing. He was a short, stumpy looking fellow who clutched the revolver in his hand like it was a beloved stuffed toy. Advancing upon him, she removed a batarang from her belt and let it fly, angling her throw so it only missed the man by inches. Picking up her speed until she was several feet away from the stunned dealer, she brushed her left foot with her right ankle, causing her to tumble spectacularly to the ground.

As far as the man with the gun was concerned, she was stunned and defenseless. He pointed his gun at her with quivering hands. "Yeah, y. . .y. . .yeah! You thought you were all bad but now look at you. I got you right in my sights, freak! What you have to say about that!"

Stephanie looked up to look down the barrel of the man's gun. Her face didn't hold the slightest hint of fear.

"Thunk," she replied.

"Thunk?"

THUNK!

The dealer screamed in agony as an arrow lodged itself into his right shoulder, causing him to drop the gun with a clatter. The scream only intensified as another arrow sunk into his left shoulder. Crumbling to the ground in a heap, the man looked up as a young woman gracefully cast herself off from a rappelling line.

She could have been Robin's twin sister. She had the same athletic build, the same medium-length blonde hair, and the same pale blue eyes. The only discernable differences between the two of them was the bow and arrow in the other woman's hands and the fact that she was garbed in a reddish-brown tunic and long pants whereas Robin remained brightly-garb in her traditional red, yellow, and green battle armor.

The panicked dealer began to squirm and scoot away from the both of them, looking for anyway to get out of what he had gotten into. "Who the hell are you?" The man asked in a cold sweat.

Stephanie answered for her. "Her name's Arrowette. And if I were you, I'd probably stay good and still or she might just shoot you again. She's been having some major impulse problems recently."

The smile on Cissie King-Jones' face was exceedingly dangerous.

Misfits Confidential

Well, there you have the prologue for the first chapter of the second novel. A bit of a sample taste of what's to come for my dozens and dozens of Misfit fans. Once again, I apologize for the one-week delay and I'm going to be really sorry for what I have to say next.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I'm going to take some time out to retool the previous chapters. I know that may disappoint everybody who shows up on Friday in anticipation of the latest issue, but I think it's time to take a bit of a breather. After all, 160,000 words in seven months is hardly anything to sneeze at. Rest assured, however, that I shall return to my weekly updates at least by the start of the new year. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing and I hope to hear from everyone about who they may want to include in this little Misfitverse. It's a lot more open-ended now, so I could use some good ideas.

Issue #29 Preview

Well, Bruce and Dick are lording it up in the City of Lights and the others are kicking ass and taking names in Gotham with the help of a new partner. What brought Young Justice's resident archer to Gotham? Just what is Noah Kuttler's connection with the Batman? And what is with the voices going on in Kara's head? All this and a little bit more in the next installment of the Misfits: Calm Concerns. See you when I see you!


	29. Calm Concerns

Issue #29

Calm Concerns

This is Cecilia King-Jones.

Her friends call her Cissie.

She considers herself to be someone who is more than content with being relatively pleased about the goings on in her everyday life. After all, the 17-year-old had a great many accomplishments to be proud about. She was the youngest person to ever win an Olympic gold medal in archery. She had a brief stint in a cult television series that people still talk about on blogs and message boards. Hell, she even played a small part in saving the galaxy from an intergalactic invasion force. None of these were something to sneeze at.

Still, there was one aspect about her life that she could complain about if she chose to take the time to do so. She had very few things to call her own. Yes, Cissie knew she owned her fair share of keepsakes and memories but she didn't think that the things she knew to be hers had a great deal of meaning. In fact, if she took the time to really consider it she could make the dim realization that nearly all of the things that defined who she was to the world around her had come from other people.

"Cissie" was a nickname that she had gotten from her best friend. Her codename, Arrowette, was a name that was passed down to her by her mother. The bow that she held in her hands was given to her by Batman. The arrows? The light-weight Kevlar armor she was wearing? Batman again.

_Say what you want about Bruce's somber disposition but at least he gives you good stuff_, she thought while her face was set in a sardonic smile.

It wasn't even her choice to be as good as she was with a bow-and-arrow and that was the one thing that she _knew _she was good at. It was her mother that had made certain that her little girl worked as hard as she could to be as good as an archer as she had become. Cissie knew that she was the product of her mother's molding rather than of her nurturing. Her mother had conditioned her in order to become a ways and means to achieve the fame and fortune that she couldn't achieve in her prime. It had taken years of intensive therapy and separation from her mother to realize that but it was deathly clear to her now.

When she had first come to Gotham, Bruce had offered her the vast backyard of Wayne Manor to serve as a practice range. She truly appreciated the offer and did what she could to make the lush Bermuda grass around her a place of growth but soon found that she preferred the cold rock of the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor. The feel of the fresh grass underneath her bare feet reminded her far too much of the countless hours she spent on pristine target ranges shooting arrows until her arms felt as if they would fall off and her eyes would become so exhausted and strained that the bright colors of the targets in front of her would begin to blur together. She knew she could have worn boots or tennis shoes to make it a little better but there was no form of footwear that could have blotted out the persistent demands and urgings that surrounded her whenever she set foot on the lawn.

Cissie shook herself free from those painful memories. Her time at the Elias Boarding School had given her the peace of mind to recognize that her mother's obsession could be turned into a gift. She had spent nearly a year-and-a-half with Young Justice, the teen super group, and had learned what it was like to have people in her life that she could count on. People like Cassie and Greta and Tim. Although her career as a superheroine was short lived, the friendships she had made while working with Young Justice was something that she figured she had a right to call a product of her own effort.

Of course, given the current circumstances, Cissie wasn't even sure if she had that anymore.

Cissie first thought that the reason that Batman and Nightwing had chosen to seek her out was her previous association with Robin (the brooding, hyper-serious male Robin not the chatty, hyper-insane Spoiler who was now Robin). She found out later that this was hardly the case. It's now been six months since she had agreed to move to Gotham and she's still not entirely sure why Batman thought that Arrowette and Gotham were a good combination.

Hell, she wasn't even certain why _she _was still here. Until that fateful night when Nightwing had burst into her dorm room (an experience that she had only dreamed about on a handful of occasions), Cissie thought that she had been through with her fleeting pursuit of being a superhero. After nearly murdering the assholes who had killed her therapist she had all but vowed to never be Arrowette again. She had recognized the harm that could be brought about by the gift that her mother had forced upon her and that recognition was something that she didn't want a part of.

_So here's the 64,000 dollar question! Why am I here now? Why did I turn away from Elias and everybody I had come to care about to fight crime in a city I don't really like that much with people that I don't really know that well? Did I do it because Batman wanted me to do it and I was too afraid to turn **The Batman **down? Did I come to Gotham because I thought I could do some good or is this just another instance when I was too afraid to follow my own judgment and allowed someone else to make my decisions for me?_

_Why can't I just have one thing I know I can call my own?_

"Yoo hoo! Anybody home in there? Helloooooooooooo?"

Stephanie's raucous inquisitions quickly brought Cissie back to the world around her and forced her to take a moment to ponder over the blonde-haired ball of energy before her. Even after working with her for the past six months Cissie still had a hard time thinking of Stephanie as anyone else but the girl in the eggplant cape and cowl who was more likely to screw up and piss people off rather than have a part in doing anything useful.

This wasn't to say that Cissie didn't like it when Spoiler would occasionally horn in on Young Justice business. In fact, if she din't realize that Greta would have suffered a conniption from hearing it out loud, Cissie would have said that she was quite fond of Steph. As far as she was concerned, anybody who could put a smile on the face of a sourpuss like Timothy Drake was cool in her book. That being said, Cissie never would have thought that this endearingly obnoxious daughter of a pill-popping mother and a deadbeat father would have ever been someone that she knew she could rely on to handle her share of crime fighting duties.

Cissie wisely chose to reply to Stephanie's nosy inquiries before she chose to employ even less subtle means to get her attention. "Yeah, I'm peachy. Did you get a hold of the commissioner?"

"The good-hearted, doughnut-loving folks at the Gotham City Police Department are cleaning up the crime scene as we speak." Stephanie replied with a cheerful grin. "Gordon told me to tell you thanks for a job well done."

Arrowette rolled her eyes in a depreciating matter. "All I did was scope out the place to make certain nobody moved before we could get in there and collar them. You were the one who hogged all the good stuff."

"I let you have the last one!" Stephanie fired back. "And that guy could have killed me!"

"That chicken-wuss didn't even know how to fire his own gun!"

Stephanie's enthusiasm deflated significantly in the face of such a logical hypothesis. "He could have fired it off by accident!"

"And then you would have used your ring to deflect the bullet."

"Yeah, well, um," Stephanie stammered. "But what if I lost my ring when I fell down?" Stephanie sighed when Cissie didn't even bother to give voice to such a ridiculous notion. "All right, all right. Still, you did stake out the place for four hours! I know I couldn't have stood still in one place for that long with or without a power ring."

The compliment was a last grasp but Cissie found herself smiling nevertheless. "Just another day in the life, mi amiga."

Cissie extended her closed right fist towards Stephanie, a gesture that Stephanie was more than happy to return by knocking her own fist against her partner's. "Still," Stephanie pressed on, "you are looking pretty down in the mouth. What's goin' on? Is there anything I can do?"

"It's nothing," Cissie replied. "I'm just a little stressed out about the fact that Batman's coming back to town. I mean, working in Gotham is one thing. Working in Gotham while Batman is within a ten-mile radius is an entirely different matter."

Stephanie paused for a moment before letting loose with a playful snort. "Simmer down, my sharp-shooting hermana! That's nothing to be worried about. I know B can seem pretty intimidating but trust me, he's come a long way in being more emotionally mature. Don't get me wrong. It'll probably be a bit of an awkward situation at first but once you get to know him and he sees what you can do then you shouldn't have any problems getting along with Bats."

* * *

_Paris, France_

If looks could kill then the man trapped within The Batman's fists would have long since been fit for burial.

"Allow me to be honest with you for just one moment. For the last two minutes I have been making sincere estimations towards the amount of bones I will have to break before you decide to tell me what I need to hear from you. These approximations have been substantially higher with every lie that you have fed me from your putrid gullet. So, in the interest of your personal safety and to increase the probability that you will not require a series of expensive and painful operations in order to stand upright, I strongly advise you to tell me everything you know about your employer _right now_."

The bedraggled ruffian could only respond by gibbering in rapid-fire French. "Please! Please do not hurt me! I swear to you that I've told you everything I know!"

Bruce Wayne took an agonizing moment to examine the panicked man he had at his mercy. The panicked look in the man's face and the dubious shifting of his brown eyes screamed to Batman that he was lying.

Still.

Batman found it rather frustrating that this pathetic fop of a hoodlum still believed that the consequences of ratting out his employers were far more severe than the price he would pay for withholding information from him. The detective found himself quite eager to point out the folly of making such a nonsensical conclusion. He somehow managed to tighten the already vice-like grip he had on the criminal's shirt before pulling the subject of his interrogation close enough to his eyes that he could see the individual beads of nervous sweat creeping from the man's receding hairline. When he spoke again, Batman's voice was the voice of a man who clearly had no trouble embracing the ugliest recesses of humanity in order to get what he desired.

"You're lying."

Now the detective could all but smell the fear reverberating from the bulky criminal's quivering frame. He knew that the confession would soon be forthcoming and a dark part of him was disappointed that it had been so simple.

"Hey! Do you know where you can get good Thai food here at two in the morning?"

Trying his hardest to reign in a frustrated growl, Batman turned to his partner.

Clad in his usual black and blue battle armor, Nightwing moved closer to the interrogation scene with an easygoing saunter. He held one of his escrima sticks in his right hand while taking a healthy bite from the apple he held in his left hand. "'Cause let me tell you," he went on, "I've got nothing against Parisian cooking but there's only so many pastries one man can eat before he starts to worry about getting a spare tire."

The glare in Batman's eyes could have melted the most cultured selection of cheeses that Paris could provide. "I am attempting to gather important information and I would appreciate it if you would not interrupt me."

Nightwing had little trouble enduring his father's withering stare and took another bite from his apple before replying. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were looking for a 'good cop'. Are you sure you don't want to raid the bad guys' fridge? They've got some nice looking stir-fry! Besides, I don't know why we're going through all this trouble when we can just use the chain saw I found in the meat locker."

The criminal in Batman's arms gave out a startled choke and his eyes grew phenomenally wide. Both Batman and Nightwing were quite cognizant enough to recognize that the violent threat of dismemberment seemed to be a very efficient way of loosening their captive's tongue.

"We already know that this is one of the facilities your employer is using to manifest the energy needed to create the neural ciphers." Batman growled. "Once again, it would be in your best interest to tell us everything you know about the location of the other facilities and any information you have pertaining to the identity of your employer."

"Please, demon! Do not hound me a moment longer! I was only assigned to gather the subjects for the professor's experiments! I had no contact with any of my employers save for the factory director and the only other compound I have ever been told of was the facility in Berlin. I do not know the facility's precise location! I swear! I wish I could tell you more but there is nothing more that I can tell you!"

The desperation and panic in the man's voice was all that Batman needed to hear to convince him that the man was telling the truth. The lack of pertinent information was a bit disconcerting but it wasn't the least bit surprising. Wanting nothing more to do with the waste of oxygen in his grasp, Batman hastily straightened and flexed the muscles in the middle and index fingers of his right hand and used them to strike a rarely known blood vessel between the lower neck and the collarbone. The effects of the nerve strike were near instantaneous and the prisoner tumbled limply to the ground in no time at all.

Nightwing watched the man's fall and took a moment to stare dully at the unfortunate fellow before taking another hearty bite from his apple. "Okay. So we're looking for a building in Berlin. That narrows it down."

"It's enough information for Noah and I to begin to ferret out the cover operations and key in on what we need to find."

"I still don't see why we're doing this right now. We're going to be back in Gotham in two days. Why don't we just take this problem on when we're at full strength?"

"It seems rather obvious that we didn't have any trouble doing what we needed to do here," Batman pointed out. "Besides, my responsibilities with the Parisian branch of Wayne Enterprises gave us an avenue and an opportunity to conduct this investigation that would have been very difficult to find otherwise."

"Ah, and speaking of the fact that we've spent the last six days in the City of Lights and Over-Priced Food. . ."

Batman interrupted Nightwing's words with an annoyed grunt before attempting to stride away from his inquisitive former protégé. Unfortunately for the beleaguered elder crime fighter, it was little trouble at all for Nightwing to rush forward and block the older man's path before continuing with his query.

"Just tell me why we've spent almost all of the last year away from Gotham? Why didn't we just stay after we brought Arrowette to the manor?"

"Why have you continued to stay with me if you're so worried about Gotham?"

"You've got a real knack for ignoring my questions by asking some of your own," Nightwing pointed out. "And to answer your question, the reason I've continued to go along you're your little David Carradine-like pilgrimage is that I'm worried a lot more about you than about Gotham or Bludhaven. Noah and the little weirdos can handle that end. It's my job to figure out what's got into you."

"You know, Nightwing. Most people would not consider a three-month long session of intensive martial arts training alongside the world's most renowned martial artists to be a holiday."

"You would. Oh, and by the way, you're still dodging my original question."

"Do you honestly want this truth, Nightwing? Do you want to know how frightened I am of what may happen when I return to Gotham and how I'm supposed to deal with what I'll have to deal with when I return home? Because when I go back home there are going to be questions waiting there for my arrival; questions that I have spent many a sleepless night trying to answer and never even coming close to succeeding. So, before you continue your incessant needling, kindly take the effort to put yourself in my shoes and recognize the fact that I don't have all the answers!"

Not surprisingly, Nightwing needed some time to reply to such an impassioned statement. Seeing his ward's hesitance, Batman continued to speak his mind.

"So much has changed, Nightwing."

Nightwing realized that this was something he was going to have to work hard to get used to. It was still discomforting to see such a raw display of naked emotion from the man who taught him to be stoic and unwavering in the midst of stress and strain that most would deem unbearable. Dick knew he would not only have to learn how to deal with his father's latest emotional development but would also have to learn how to respond in kind.

"I'm pretty scared too, dad."

Yeah, maybe it wasn't the best way to respond but it was the best that he could muster under the circumstances.

He was new at this after all.

* * *

_Gotham City_

Noah Kuttler found himself to be quite bored and disappointed with the new information that Bruce had supplied to him in regards of their most recent quarry. This ennui was quick to give way to a desire to seek a sight of greater interest and it didn't take a great deal of trouble on is part to find it.

Lloyd was sitting cross-legged in one of the more well-lighted crooks of the Batcave. Using his telepathy to keep his entire body hovering several feet above the cold rock of the cavern, the young man was on the verge of completing his nightly round of meditation. Ambient streaks of black and golden energy clustered and floated around him as Lloyd worked in silence to collect his wayward thoughts. It was an exercise that he employed in order to better control the immense reserves of energy stored within his body. Though the environment around him looked to be quite hectic, the near absolute lack of tension around Lloyd's eyes and the absolute stillness of his body made the young man look as if he were the picture of serenity.

Despite his tranquility, Lloyd was quite aware enough of his surroundings to feel Noah's eyes upon him. He slowly opened his left eye and stared back at the older man. "Need me for somethin', Kuttler?"

Noah would have felt quite chagrined under most circumstances but the relaxed expression on Lloyd's face clearly indicated that the younger man took no affront. "My apologies, Lloyd. Your subconscious light show can be quite engrossing when the only other competition for attention is a smattering of information that is most likely to prompt a quixotic perusal of the backwaters of the Western European countryside."

Lloyd sighed as he slowly broke from the lotus position and placed his feet back on the ground. The spheres and streams of energy cascading around him began to combine together and were quickly reintegrated with Lloyd's body. The young man patiently turned his neck from side-to-side in order to stretch out a kink that had been bugging him for the last half hour.

"Quixotic perusal, eh? Bloody hell, hacker man. We need to get you off those ten pound sentences. Could drive a bloke daffy with all that high-meanin' nonsense."

"Well, you'll pardon me if I cannot quite mimic the truly exquisite tones and literary vernacular of a North London street punk leaving the pub in the early morning hours. However, perhaps you may be interested in what our good leader has winged our way."

Lloyd raised his thin eyebrows to showcase his possible interest. "Is it got to do with those blokes with the tats we've been lookin' out for the past month?"

"Indeed it does," Noah replied as he turned his seat so he could look at his monitor without craning his neck. "Batman and Nightwing took it upon themselves to bring an end to shut down that facility in Paris that you and Stephanie had identified several days ago."

Lloyd showcased his frustration with his boss's impatience with a sour grimace. "Any reason why Grayson and The Boss just couldn't wait for us to be available so we could back them up?"

Noah shook his head knowingly. Enduring the impatience of his associates had been a practice that the hacker had grown quite experienced with in the past months but it always helped to have someone to share in the frustration. "None that can be determined by a rational mind," Noah replied calmly. "The ruffians that Batman and Nightwing managed to incapacitate had none of the markings that we have been able to link with this mysterious little organization that we have been tracking for the last several months. Fortunately, one of Batman and Nightwing's detainees was gracious enough to reveal that his employer also had a facility in the Berlin industrial district. Our gracious employer has put it upon me to investigate the matter."

Lloyd nodded at Noah's statements but his eyes clearly indicated that he didn't expect a great deal to come of it. "'S the definition of a bleedin' wild goose chase, Kuttler. Everyone we've collared that has these markings say they don't know how they got it, why they had it, or why they were doing what they were doing when we caught 'em. There isn't one whit of technology behind it so you can't trace it and if it's got somethin' to do with magic then whoever did it 's doin' a good job of hidin' it 'cause Steph and I haven't been able to find anything either."

"Yes, it is quite the confounding conundrum," Noah replied. "Perhaps this latest tidbit of information will shed a bit of illumination upon this matter."

Lloyd replied to Noah's optimism with a significant snort that was not quite appropriate for the present circumstances. "I doubt it. If so few people were there than I can't imagine this place was too bloody important. I'll wager dollars to doughnuts that says whatever's in Berlin will just be another dead end that's more trouble then it's worth as well."

The Calculator quickly swerved his seat around to look at Lloyd directly. "Are you all right, Lloyd? I can't imagine that your frustration can be fully attributed by this matter?"

Lloyd countered Noah's knowing glance with one of his own. The fact that he had reacted in such a manner caused him to add a bit of a smirk to his countenance. "Pretty fancy way of sayin' I'm distracted, mate. Well, the truth of it is I'm a little worried about Zo'rel."

"Ah, yes," Noah said, his tone brightening significantly. "And just what ails of our resident amiable, memory-starved Kryptonian bring you such troubles?"

"She had another episode today during training."

That blunt admission quickly put an end to Noah's joviality. An "episode" was Lloyd's rather improper definition of Kara's intermittent tendency to react to stressful situations with bouts of violent emotions. Noah had been quite astute to discover that most of these situations centered around Kara remembering some remnant of her forgotten past on Krypton and was secretly quite eager to discover the extenuating circumstance behind it all once Batman returned. Although Noah often found Lloyd's preoccupation with Kara's well-being to be somewhat amusing, he couldn't deny the serious dangers behind the young woman's outbursts.

"That's the first she's had in over three months." Noah unnecessarily pointed out. "What do you think could have caused it?"

"You know the cause as well as I do, Kuttler. Some buggered up memory in the back part of her mind dug its way in at the wrong time." Lloyd bitterly turned away from Noah's gaze and began to pace with a very Batman-like gait to his step. "Bloody hell. We've been dodgin' this bullet before but we've got to convince the chit to start lookin' into her past. Steph's been runnin' herself ragged trying to convince Kara to figure this all out."

Noah couldn't help but recognize that Lloyd had not so subtly refused to acknowledge his own efforts into helping restore Kara's memory. However, he was also wise enough not to point that out to the fuming young man. "Perhaps you should continue with your telepathic investigations? Perhaps when Batman returns. . ."

Lloyd cut off Noah with a swift turn and a shake of his head. "It does no good, Kuttler. Whatever is locked back there in Kara's mind isn't something that I'm going to be able to find. Besides, it doesn't take Sherlock bleedin' Holmes to realize that Zo'rel isn't that keen on me or anyone else pokin' about in her noggin."

"Which is why I believe we should wait until Batman returns," Noah replied calmly. "It's quite apparent that his opinions mean a great deal to Kara. Perhaps he would be best suited to convince Kara of the importance of discovering her lost memories rather than attempting to repress them."

Lloyd sighed wearily. The part of him that wanted so hard to be a leader chafed at the idea of handing off something to another person but that same part of him also saw the wisdom in the idea. "I hope so, mate. Still, somethin' tells me that it's not gonna be me or J'onn or anyone else other than Kara that can figure out what's goin' on. She may have given up on finding out about her past for now but there's gonna come a time when she'll want to know. She'll want to know more than anything else in this world and that may very well put is into trouble. After all, when people are searching for something important they tend to grow the habit of listening to anybody who might be able to give 'em a halfway decent answer."

* * *

Kara observed the three noisy girls chattering away, each of them oblivious to the world around them.

Throughout the past year and during the past travels she had made, Kara had begun to notice that selective attention was a rather common trend everywhere she went. No matter how relaxed or how strict the landscape or societal climate of the places she visited, the concept of privacy was something that could be either an utmost principle or something that was absolutely worthless. It all depended upon the situation.

"Can you believe that girl?" One of the girls asked the others.

"I know! Talk about impulse control problems," another replied. "She _must _be on something because there is _no _way that somebody could be that much of a bitch on her own."

The three girls all giggled as one. Kara found the spontaneous display of shared humor to be phenomenally nauseating and part of her began to yearn to force herself away from the conversation but she subdued her instincts and continued to listen in.

"I mean, just because she's got the rich and famous dad and she was born into a life of luxury doesn't mean that she can treat everybody like the scum underneath her shoes."

"The House of El has always been a bunch of elitist snobs. I'd like to see Kara Zo'rel have to live the lives that we middle-class Kryptonians have to put up with."

Kara raised her perfectly groomed left eyebrow.

"Bet she doesn't have a thought in that pretty little head of hers."

Kara crossed her arms over her chest while the bridge of her nose grew creased.

"Nothing but a violent, little brat."

Kara was beside the three chattering Kryptonians in the blink of an eye. Her shining, white teeth were on full display as she stared the startled girls down with a predator's smile. A live-action display of the fight-or-flight reflex was now upon full display and each of the gossipers were horribly transfixed by the glow of Kara's crimson eyes.

"Hello there, ladies," Kara said quickly before bringing back that awful grin. "Y'know, it's not nice to talk about people behind their backs."

She gleefully swung her arms around the quivering shoulders of one of the teenage girls. One of her classmates.

"Because if somebody hears you talking about someone else and that someone else finds out about it then that's just going to lead to a whole lot of uncomfortable situations."

Kara calmly looked from one nervous face to another to another in order to find someone who might back her up on what she considered to be a very valid bit of knowledge. It didn't appear to perturb Kara in the least that none of the three terrified adolescents were quite capable of replying. She quickly decided to continue on with her conversation as she leaned in closer to the girl she held with her right arm and spoke to her in a whisper.

"Would you like another example of an uncomfortable situation?"

Kara's burst of heat vision burned through the girl's ear canal and cut through her cranium. The other girls gave off some wonderful hideous shrieks as their friend crumpled to the ground. Their paralyzing fear quickly gave in to panic and they ran off in opposite directions.

Kara went for the one that had called her an elitist snob first. She took to the sky and closed in on the panicked girl with ridiculous ease. Snagging her painfully by the hair, Kara almost chuckled at the screeching off the girl as she rushed to catch up with the other fleeing simpleton; the one that had called her a violent, little brat. Within moments she had once again ensnared her captive audience.

"My father is always telling me that you low-class filth only have half a brain cell in your underdeveloped skulls," Kara said contemptuously as she held the squirming girls in her tightly clenched hands. Her eyes were no longer glowing red but the cold stare in her unbearably blue eyes was equally frightening. "My dad always ridiculed you but I always thought it was awful to have to go through life without a single neuron to call your own. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I'm going to do what I can to remedy your pathetic lot in life."

Kara put her two hands together with all the force she could muster. The heads of the two girls came together with a sickeningly wet crack and Kara could feel the spray of blood and gray matter splashing onto her face and clothing. The displeasure that came with the fact that she had ruined one of her favorite outfits was enough to convince her to ram the shattered skulls of her two victims together once again. The squelching sound that always comes about when handling mashed muscle and skin soaked with blood ran sweetly through Kara's ears before she finally dumped the two corpses down onto the sidewalk.

As she casually wiped away the dripping blood from her forehead she searched the eyes of the Kryptonians around her. She took in the anger and the outrage and the paralyzing fear that radiated off the commonplace sacks of meat and smiled in satisfaction.

This was Kara Zo'rel. A heady mishmash of a young woman that sported an abundance of youthful arrogance, precious little in the ways of empathy or mercy, and enough power and intelligence to recognize the fact that she was capable of doing anything she desired and did not have the slightest of repercussions to burden her.

The Kara Zo'rel of the present observed the monster before her and shuddered.

_This is who I was_.

And another voice interrupted her.

_No, this is who you should be. This is who you **WILL **be!_

Kara woke from her dream with a horrified scream and a clumsy, backhanded swipe of her right arm that nearly knocked Alfred Pennyworth's head off his shoulders. Still, despite this highly unusual brush with death, the caretaker of Wayne Manor remained remarkably set upon his task. "My word, Miss Kara! Are you all right? Should I contact Master Lloyd?"

Kara found that she wasn't quite yet capable of forming a coherent reply. She could feel the rivulets of sweat sliding down her temples and she thought the hammering beats of her heart were far too loud for her liking. She shut her eyes as forcibly as she could and hastily ran through the relaxation exercises that Bruce and Lloyd had been teaching her. As her breathing began to slow and thicken and the pulsing of the blood in her veins began to lessen, her nose picked up the lingering scent of the seafood risotto that Alfred had fixed for dinner. The feeling of gratefulness that came about from recognizing that the aged butler was patient enough to allow her the time to recollect herself soothed her and Kara soon turned to Alfred and gave him a thin smile.

"No, that's okay. I was just having a hard time sleeping. It's almost sunrise and I don't want to disturb anyone."

It didn't take much effort at all for Alfred to read the look in Kara's eyes and what he found was enough to convince him to try another track of persuasion. "Master Lloyd is still speaking with Master Noah in the Batcave, Miss Kara. I assure you that you would be disturbing no one."

Kara absently swept back a few unruly locks of hair that had strayed in front of her face while she slept. "Thank you, Alfred, but I'll be fine. It was just another nightmare. I'm more worried about you. I could have just killed you."

Alfred scoffed at the very logical notion. "My dear, I have awakened a great many cantankerous and/or thrashing lads and lasses in my day and this instance was hardly the most perilous situation of this kind that I have encountered. Any one of the instances when I was forced to rouse Master Dick after a night-long round of drunken carousing with Mister Harper and Mister West, for example, has put far more gray hairs upon my brow than this instance."

Kara knew that it would have been polite to laugh at Alfred's attempts to comfort her but she couldn't work herself up to it. She found it unbearably hard to smile when she felt as if she could still smell the blood and viscera upon her hands.

"That's all right, Alfred. I'll just try and get back to sleep. I'm sure after a couple of hours rest I'll be as right as rain. I'm sorry to have woken you."

The butler took a moment to examine the cheerful and reassuring look on Kara's face. Her smile was always radiant but this one was far too bright to be real. Her lean cheekbones were just a smidgen too high and the glimmer in her blue eyes that was there when Kara was truly happy was nowhere to be found. Alfred had long since realized that this was Kara's way. It was her habit to cover up the painful emotions that were welling up within her by smiling so brightly that it was nearly impossible to suspect that anything was wrong. The young lady had grown so sufficient with maintaining this façade that it took a truly trained eye to spot it.

After a great deal of private introspection, Alfred Pennyworth discovered that he had no desire to force Kara to speak when she was clearly not prepared to do so. After all, it was quite ungentlemanly to ask a young woman to do such a thing. Instead, he calmly advised Kara to speak with Lloyd and the others in the morning and offered to bring her a glass of warm milk. Kara agreed to the request quite happily and soon Alfred was quietly padding down to the kitchen area.

It took only a moment or two for Alfred to prepare the water he needed to heat the milk to the temperature he desired. He felt a glint of pride when he remembered Kara's penchant for adding cinnamon to her milk at the breakfast table and made certain to add a smattering of it before returning upstairs with the bedtime treat. Despite his efforts, it didn't surprise him at all to see that Miss Kara was sound asleep when he arrived and he didn't feel the least bit offended. After all, it wasn't his job to complain about several wasted minutes of late-night kitchen duty. It was his job to make certain that the people he looked after could spend the few hours they had away from the dangerous world around them in a place of comfort and stability. If Miss Kara was capable of finding that on her own then who was he to stop her?

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Welllllllllllll. Okay! It looks like I've got a bit of guilt to express. Sorry if I left any of my loyal readers in suspense over the past nine weeks or so. On the other hand, a big reason behind the long absence is that I put a great deal of time and effort into editing and reposting the previous chapters. If you're a big fan of this series (and I have to presume you are if you've willingly chosen to read for this long) then I strongly recommend that you take a look at the previous chapters. They're a lot better. Trust me.

There have been a great many of changes in my life. A whole lot of new things have come about, a lot of old things have fallen by the way side, and it's taken me a bit of time to adjust to it all. That being said, I'm happy to say that The Misfits remains to be one of those things that I'm choosing to stick with. I can't guarantee on weekly updates but I can guarantee that the stuff I do present to you will be of far greater quality than what I produced before. I'm still cringing at all the grammatical errors I made in the first novel. (Fights back the urge to shudder).

Hope everybody liked the inclusion of Arrowette in the cast and I hope this chapter paved the way towards answering the question of how in the hell she got to Gotham. My idea to add Cissie came from the voting we did back in October between Nightwing, Green Arrow, and Arsenal. If Green Arrow got the nod it would have been Mia Dearden firing that arrow. If Arsenal was voted in then it would have been poor little Lian to nearly get her head knocked off by Kara. See? And you think I just write this stuff on the fly, Rachel!

Okay! I'm off my soapbox. Thanks for reading and I hope you review. And now, without further a due, here's a chapter preview! Revel in my capacity to rhyme! That is, of course, if you still have the time!

Issue #30 Preview

So Batman and Nightwing are trompin' around Europe looking for guys with tattoos, Cissie and Steph are kicking ass and taking names on the streets of Gotham, Kara is having nightmares about committing grisly acts of murder, and Lloyd and Noah are trying to figure out what the hell is going on with everybody. Will a sliver of light be shined upon these burgeoning mysteries in the next issue? Well, probably not. Still, that shouldn't stop you from reading the next installment of the Misfits: Paranoia Escalation. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	30. Paranoia Escalation

Issue #30

Paranoia Escalation

"You know what I miss about the old days, Kuttler?"

Noah didn't even bother to look up from his workstation. After all, ruminations about reminiscence were hardly a virgin field of conversation for either one of them. Still, the Calculator felt it his duty to respond in a manner of his particular idiom.

"Mister Thomas, I would hope that you would miss very little. By all accounts you were an uncouth assassin with a long-standing history of emotional turbulence after all and I take great value in my emotional and physical security."

Lloyd responded to Noah's pithy retort with a look of utmost sourness while he edged closer to The Calculator's terminal. "Be careful about throwin' stones, answer man. I imagine a bloke who once spent his days dressed up like a giant pocket calculator has quite the glass house."

"A fair enough point," Noah replied sagely. "Very well. I shall humor your complaints. What _do _you miss about the old days, young man? What touching thoughts and memories clung for a distance of perhaps four or five years could bring such tension upon your wrinkleless brow?"

"It's seven years and shut yer 'ole," Lloyd said sharply as he looked up to glance at the various video feeds of Batman, Nightwing and Robin already hard at work. "I didn't have to worry about other people when I was working with Mao. The boss would give me a job and he knew I preferred workin' alone so he never pressed any partners on me. On the few occasions he did pair me up with someone he'd always give me somebody that I could work with; somebody who I knew could do their job and wouldn't talk a whole lot while they were doing it. Lookin' back on it, it was a pretty simple life, all and all. Get a job from the boss, finish the job and then find somethin' to occupy my time until the next job came along."

"The benefits and glories of the life of the well-paid and the unencumbered. . ."

"Too right," Lloyd said with a bitter snort. He turned his attention to another of the man monitors that Noah kept running for a better part of the evening and used his left index finger to slowly trace the image of one of the sigils on the screen. "Back then I didn't have any emotional attachments to worry about. I didn't have to worry about Bruce's brooding or Kara worryin' 'bout her past or Steph tryin' to drag me off to eat Thai food. I didn't have to worry about how I'd feel if somethin' bad happened to anybody I cared about 'cause I couldn't have cared less."

Lloyd gave off a weary huff and turned away from the symbols and pictures of possible threats. "Don't get me wrong. It's not as if I don't appreciate the life I've got goin'. There's just so much more to worry about now."

"Yes, a lack of emotional attachments does have its advantages," Noah replied as he briefly examined the printout of Stephanie's anticipated patrol route out of the corner of his eye. "It was far simpler for me when I simply charged everyone to answer their questions for them. I could even convince a small part of me to believe that the monetary exchange eliminated any obligation towards my clients when something didn't go according to plan. It is infinitely simpler to think of people as nothing more than a means to an end. When you mix in the festering desire to discuss the intricacies of the works of Wagner with your boss or speak upon the comedic genius of the Dead Parrot sketch with youthful understudies and you run the risk of treading upon unpredictable emotional grounds."

Lloyd chuckled darkly just as Noah had done upon his own admissions. "Still think that it would've been funnier if Palin was the customer. Ah well, here's to emotional repression and remembrances of days gone by," he said as he raised an imaginary glass.

"Cheers," Noah replied as he lifted his own cup of coffee to answer the toast. He was about to take a hearty sip before a chime from one of his many computers caught his attention. Back to his work station in a flash, the hacker's fingers gracefully danced across the keys as he went to the task of finding out the source of his latest message.

"God damn it."

"Wot?" Lloyd asked with a raised left eyebrow. "We got somethin' I need to round up the troops for?"

"No," Noah responded testily as he slapped his right hand down upon his much-beleaguered mouse. "It's just Nightwing." Lloyd was already laughing. "It's yet another one of his intensely exasperating e-mails informing me that he will soon know everything there is to know about me."

"Well, nice to say Grayson's still keepin' himself busy." Lloyd said through his chuckling. "I just don't see why you and Wayne don't just bite the bleedin' bullet and tell him what he wants to know. I don't see any harm in it."

Noah plucked his wire-rimmed glasses off the bridge of his nose and polished them with one of his leftover dinner napkins. "If Nightwing is so insistent upon treating all of this as a childish game then I will not expend any unnecessary effort in catering to his infantile behavior!"

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause hissing and dreading a bloke's e-mails are exemplary examples of mature behavior. Look, I know that the bloke's still raw about you replacin' that Oracle chit but it's not like you haven't earned your spot."

"Well, then perhaps you can employ your newfound penchant for leadership and convince _him _of this."

Noah's tart reply did not affect Lloyd's opinion of the matter at hand in the slightest. "Don't be pullin' out the captain card on me, Kuttler. It's not up to me to be the great negotiator. It's up to the two of you to work all this out."

Noah sighed and fought back the desire to clean his glasses once again. "Then perhaps you could convince me that I, as you so succinctly put it, have earned my spot."

Lloyd groaned quietly as he fought back the desire to slap himself for not seeing this sooner. "And this is another reason why I never wanted to work with anybody," he mumbled.

Noah took another lingering look at the sigils and symbols that he hadn't been able to make heads or tails of in the past several weeks. "I just can't help but think that Oracle already would have solved this puzzle."

"Balls," Lloyd replied firmly, the harsh tone of his voice startling his elder partner. "Sod Oracle and sod you for thinkin' that she's better than you. Don't start underestimating yourself just because you're seein' the bumps in the road. You'll figure this out and you'll tell us what we need to do and you'll help us save the day just like we've been doin' the last 12 months and if Nightwing doesn't think you've earned the right to be here then I'll be happy to tell him otherwise. I didn't work this soddin' hard buildin' up this operation just to see it crumble because of a couple of blokes who don't know anything but to bicker like old hens."

The Calculator was somewhat surprised to find that he was disturbingly moved by Lloyd's declaration of support. However, he believed that it wouldn't have done either of them any good if he went about the trouble of saying that directly. "Well, I find it rather comforting that you continue to accept your leadership role with maturity and continuing to refrain from engaging in any unnecessarily emotional outbursts."

Lloyd felt an insult on the tip of his tongue but he chose to swallow it. "Just tryin' to defend what I have, mate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to pick up Steph and start the evening patrols. I trust you'll stay in close contact."

"I see no reason not to," Noah replied. "Happy hunting to you, Mister Thomas."

Lloyd nodded but didn't choose to leave just yet. If Noah thought that he could get away with the last potshot then he was bloody well mistaken.

"Oh, and by the way. When Grayson gets back it'd probably do ya a world of good to get out of this cave for a bit. A bloke stays in one place long enough and people start to get the impression that they're a little scared of the world around 'em. 'S not really the best way to build up trust."

Noah groaned as Lloyd teleported away with a wicked smile on his face.

"Damn children," Noah said to the bats and his cup of coffee. "If all of the people out to kill me don't get me then they certainly will."

* * *

_G.C.P.D. Headquarters- Rooftop_

James Gordon knew that this was just another one of those many moments in his life when he realized that he should have never quit smoking. The stiff Gotham winters was a harsh trail that no person should have to endure without the aid of either healthy or unhealthy sources of comfort. Tonight was one of those early evenings where even the sun appeared to give up on the old metropolis and the icy, early January winds had free reign. The gusts swept through every gap and crevice that was not already occupied by brick, steel, or wood and the sparse sleet that accompanied it only served to add another unique bit of misery upon an already dismal night.

The long-time detective blew out a breath and watched the exhalation turn into a thin mist. "I knew I should have just had Bullock wait for the kid," he thought aloud.

"Sounds like a reasonable idea. I imagine all the unnecessary body fat would do wonders for his insulation."

The highest-ranking official of the G.C.P.D. felt like he almost lost another seven minutes of his life as Robin appeared at his side without the slightest sound. The mischievous smile on her face was a clear indication that neither the sleet nor the freezing winds affected her in the least and that realization irritated Gordon to no end.

"I'll have you know, young lady, that Batman at least had the decency to apologize to an old man when he caught him by surprise."

Stephanie's smile grew even wider, just as Jim had expected it would. "I don't consider you to be an old man, Commish," Stephanie replied merrily. "I consider you to be more along the lines of appropriately seasoned. Like a good steak."

The veteran officer shook his head. Playful flattery and juvenile flirtation was something he never had to endure with the other three Robins. "Let's just take this inside, Stephanie. I don't have a magic ring to keep my bones from cracking."

"Lead the way, Jimbo," Stephanie replied as she held the door open.

As he moved to shut off the Batsignal, it suddenly occurred to the commissioner that it had been two years to the day since he had lit the signal and the call had been answered by the person that the signal was originally meant to summon. He had no trouble at all explaining the lack of response during the first year. Being fired as commissioner and run out on a rail generally didn't leave you with a great deal of access to police property. He had lost Sarah to the madness that was the No Man's Land and a monster with the widest, most horrible smile he had ever witnessed. The emotion that came with the memories of that year suddenly caused him to feel for his badge to make sure it was there. He simply felt the need to make sure that he still had this part of his life back.

However, it was Batman's lack of response during this second year that had been the most recent sources for the old man's sleepless nights. He could still vividly remember that moment he had fired the Batsignal into the sky a week after he had regained his title as Police Commissioner. The hum of the halogen lamp and the brief wisp of ozone was like the return of a long forgotten friend (and judging from the honks and hoots and hollers that shot up from the Gotham streets when that unmistakable insignia shot into the skies, the sensation was not only his to appreciate).

But it was Stephanie who had responded to his call. He had called for a dark knight and received a cheery girl garbed in black, orange and red and had a smile far too bright for him to endure under the circumstances. His anger was running hot but it took a great many threats and insults to shoo the young lady away.

He shined the light four days later. Lloyd answered the call this time. The exchange of information had been brief, completely unspoken and the entire ordeal left the old man feeling more frightened then he had in a long time.

A week after that and it was Kara, Lloyd and Stephanie who winged their way to the icy rooftop of G.C.P.D. Headquarters. He had stuck upon the slipping springs that he would get the one man he was looking for but instead he received three people whose mere appearance seemed to mock the hope he had in protecting Gotham. Kara had tried hard to convince him that they were working under Batman's orders but by now his anger had supplanted his desire to understand the cause of these unexpected arrivals. He said some things that he has long since apologized for and the unwanted arrivals took their leave once again.

Batman was waiting for him in his office a week later. He didn't even bother to ask how he had managed to break in because it had happened so many times before and he already had plenty of other reasons to be angry at this brooding, presumptuous vigilante. How many times had this infuriating bastard invaded his privacy and fought by his side and kept him out of the loop and protected his friends and family and still he comes expecting acceptance and aid without a word of apology or explanation.

He had wanted to beat him into a bloody pulp but was well aware that this was out of the realm of possibilities. Instead, he attacked him with his words. He built a self-righteous head of steam and worked himself into believing that everything bad that had ever happened in his life was the fault of the man leaning against the wall at the back corner of his office. His tirade was the stuff of legends; a five minute haranguing so raucous and austere that it was a small wonder how no one had come bursting into his office to find out what all the noise was about.

Batman endured the accusations and venom without a single word in response. It was nothing that Gordon did not expect but the action still surprised and infuriated him. The anger only intensified when the detective placed a manila folder that was bulging with a small collection of papers onto his desk.

He didn't even bother to look at them. He snatched up the folder and scattered the papers throughout the office with a sweep of his hand. It was a gesture that he thought to be quite appropriate at the time and it had taken quite a while to realize how absurdly silly and melodramatic it truly was.

"I'm not playing your games anymore, Batman! I refuse to not longer be a god damn pawn on your little chessboard! Back in No Man's Land you told me that I was your partner, that I was your _friend_! I took your word for it then but now it's pretty damn clear to me that you don't know the meaning of those words and I'm tired of waiting for the day when you'll finally figure it out! So unless you want every officer in this city breathing down your neck then take my advice and stay the hell away from me! Stay away from my officers, stay away from my daughter and go back and crawl into your little cave and stay in the dark where you belong!"

"I have to leave Gotham, Jim."

It wasn't the words that got to him but the way the words were spoken. Batman didn't speak to him with that old, straightforward "let's get this done" candor or with that menacing and cutting tone that he reserved for criminals. This was a very tired man who just wanted to get something over with because he wasn't certain how long he'd hold up. He knew that part of Batman was there but he could count the number of times he had been in contact with that part on one hand.

"A lot of things have happened and I need some time to think about where I need to go from here. I. . . I apologize for not speaking to you sooner. I've made certain that I'll have some people I trust watching over Gotham in my absence. You'll find all the information you need about them in that file."

The hissing of the winter winds that attempted to sneak through his window panes abated for a moment and he could pick up the faint note of pride within Batman's next words. "They're all a little rough around the edges but I assure you that they believe just as much in protecting this town as we do and they will follow your orders. Please, Jim. You're the only person I can trust to watch Gotham in my absence. I learned that lesson before. If you still believe in my desire to protect Gotham then please watch over these children."

* * *

So, long story short, he read the file. He read about Kara and wondered how a young woman from another planet would look so much like a human. He read about Lloyd and decided to hold his judgments and suspicions until he got to know the young man better. He read about Stephanie and somehow managed to feel proud of Batman for the fact that his longtime confidante had given the girl another chance.

It had taken some time to trust the kids and even more time to fashion the rapport that he had with them now. They weren't Batman and that was neither a good thing nor a bad thing, just a different thing. Most importantly, they didn't deserve any of the anger and frustration that he had for their boss.

Be that as it may, he did try to grill the youngsters in order to find out what would prompt Batman into taking such a long sabbatical. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that his three new collaborators were as equally taciturn as their employer.

Stephanie merely shrugged her shoulders in her usual winsome way and told him just to wait to ask Batman.

Lloyd quirked his eyebrows in his standard bemused fashion and simply said that it wasn't his place to reply.

"_Um, I wanted to tell you, Mister Gordon, but Batman said he'd be mad if I did and I don't want anybody else to be angry with me. I'm sorry. I really wish I could tell you though!"_

He smiled and chuckled at the memory. God bless Kara. He knew he shouldn't have come down on her as hard as he had.

"Yo, Jimbo! Hurry up, man! I only wore one pair of pants and my ass is getting cold!"

Commissioner Gordon grumbled and swallowed his frustrations brought about from allowing his mind to wander. Fixing his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose, he was quick to join the young lady within the far more comfortable confines of the upper stairwells. There was a great deal of work to be done and he had some good people on hand to help him do it. He could worry about those he may have lost at another time.

* * *

_Wayne Manor _

Kara couldn't remember whether or not if it ever snowed on Krypton. Perhaps it never happened at all or maybe it happened so rarely that her fuzzy memories couldn't quite recall any particular day when it did. Whether it did or not, however, she could always manage to draw a hint of a smile whenever she saw snow on the Gotham streets or the rooftops or on the vast grounds of the Wayne family estate. The near freezing winds and the chill of the ground that accompanied it were unique sensations that drew no discomfort outside of the uncertainties that came with novelty. She could feel her bare feet slip into the snow and she could smile with no trouble at all.

Such are the benefits of Kryptonian physiology.

She took a seat upon the ground after finding spot she found to be particularly pristine. Making certain to first take a moment to enjoy the intriguing contrast of colors around her, she looked up to see the pale blue skies and the deep, brown bark of the surrounding trees. She cast her wide eyes downward to watch pure white surround her hands as she sunk her long fingers into the snow, the two distinct colors never mixing. The atmosphere soothed her nerves and further prepared her for the possibly harrowing task at hand.

Kara thought that Lloyd was not entirely right and not quite wrong about her. She _did _want to find out about her past. She just didn't seem to want to do it as much as everybody else wanted her to do it. She was comfortable with who she was and what she could do most of the time. It was just those brief, occasional moments when she felt as if she wanted to kill everyone she came to care about that got her down. Is this so far out of the ordinary?

"Yeah, right," Kara mumbled as she blew a bit of air up past her upper lips and felt the tiny gust ruffle her blonde bangs. It was a nervous gesture that she had picked up from Stephanie but she couldn't quite remember when or where she had acquired it.

_I just want to do it on my own schedule. I just want to wait until Batman gets back. Lloyd and Stephanie are great but I know he'll be able to help me_. _Until then, all I need is just a couple of days to calm down. Just give me one freakin' moment where I can stop thinking about who I am and who I used to be!_

**_Oh, dear child. That isn't what this game is about._**

Kara's eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she shut them as quickly and as tightly as she could.

_No. Not now. Leave me alone._

_**I'm afraid that's no longer possible. In fact, it is quite clear to me that I have already wasted too much time allowing you to piece things out, Kara Zo'rel. Your activities blight the honor and dignity of the House of El and your refusal to claim your past and reclaim your legacy are activities that can no longer be tolerated. **_

The voice that had spoken to Kara over Mount Everest and the reverberating tones that had been assaulting her within her blood-soaked dreams grew louder with each word. She wished that she could flee from it all but she had no idea where she could go to get away.

_I don't care about the House of El or about Krypton anymore. This is my home now and I'm happy here and I don't wanna leave. I'm Supergirl._

The voice around and inside her laughed with zeal so horrible that Kara felt like burrowing into the snow. Her body shook and she couldn't keep her fingers still even though she had dug them through the snow and were now digging up roots and soil.

**_So you're Supergirl, are you? An insipid, cheery girl who flies around in a ridiculously short skirt saving people that are incapable of saving themselves? Are you so devoid of pride and strength that you honestly feel that such a meager existence could possibly ever satisfy someone of your capability and power?_**

_It's enough for me. It is enough for me._

_**Is it now? **_The voice did not even bother to hide its' sarcasm and skepticism. **_Are you truly so disinterested in not finding out about who you were? Who you are? _**

Kara did all she could to try to convince herself that she said that she wasn't. Perhaps that false belief would cause this voice to go away and leave her in peace so she could work this out for herself. She knew she could do that if she _just had a little more time_.

**_Or perhaps you're worried about what you may become when you find out? Will you pluck off Batman's head like a peach off a vine the next time he tells you that you're doing something wrong or that you should be doing something better? Will you smash the skulls of those pathetic little girls that insist on befriending you the next time they tease you about the tiniest little thing? _**

Kara had no idea how it was even possible but it seemed as if the voice had grown even stronger. It was now all that she could feel and hear.

**_Or what about that little swordsman who has taken you under his wing? That uncouth half-breed that you moon over and think about at your bedside? Do you honestly believe that any true child of the House of El would merely be settled with lingering glances and childish advances that have no hope of being answered? I know you, Kara. I know who you pretend yourself to be and I know who you truly are. _**

Kara frantically shook her head back and forth. Her sun-bright blonde mane swished wildly across her face as she vainly attempted to find something she could latch onto.

_No. That's not me. I don't know who I was but I don't want to be that anymore!_

_**But you do, dear child. That small part in the back of your mind that you know is there wants you to revel in the blood and the carnage that you can create at a moment's notice. You want to take that contemptible boy, place him beneath you and revel in your superiority. You wish to draw pleasure as you break his bones and his spirit as you take what you desire.**_

_No. . . ._

_**To take what belongs to you.**_

_NO!_

_**To rule as a god among sheep. To display the superiority of our race from those who would be so foolish to challenge us. THAT IS THE BIRTHRIGHT OF THE HOUSE OF EL!**_

"NOOOOOO!"

The silent scream brought a sudden end to Kara's self-induced trance and she was immediately thrust back into the still world around her. It was a world where she couldn't help but notice that an arrow was sticking out of one of her shoulder blades. After taking a moment to compose herself, she gave a moderately perturbed glare to her attacker.

"Hey! Don't look at me that way!" Cissie replied. The look on her face was somewhat sheepish but didn't hold a great deal of remorse. "After all, the last time somebody tried to wake you up they nearly got their head knocked off. Call me a bit overcautious but I like to avoid decapitation whenever the possibility arises!"

Kara breathed a weary sigh. "You'd think with how busy we are saving the world and investigating this new case that none of us would have the time to gossip." She twisted her neck to examine her associate's weapon of choice. "Glue arrow?"

Cissie shrugged her shoulders. "It was the only thing in my bag that wouldn't have just bounced off of you. I _did _make sure that the adhesive charge was as low-spread as possible."

"You have my eternal gratitude," Kara said dryly. It only took a moment for her to twist her body at an appropriate enough angle for her to use a blast of heat vision to quickly melt the glue off of her shoulder. She caught the arrow before it hit the ground and tossed it back to Arrowette, who caught it easily.

"I heard about it from Stephanie who overheard Lloyd when he was talking about it with Alfred," explained Cissie as she placed the spent arrow into a different compartment of her quiver. "I'm usually not one for tittle-tattles but you've got to admit that this was pretty interesting. Closest thing we ever got to something like this in Young Justice was the time Bart managed to find some of Connor's downloaded photo manipulations of Starfire and they somehow got into Wonder Girl's hands. I swear Cassie must have chased that horny dolt halfway to China. Personally though, I always thought Connor sort of had the hots for Tim. . . ."

"Cissie, I don't mean to sound rude," Kara interrupted, "but I've had a rough couple of days and I'm not really in the mood for a light-hearted conversation. . ."

Strangely enough, Kara's somewhat discourteous reply prompted Cissie to back off. Placing her bow back into the small space between her quiver and her back, she managed to swallow her smile before she spoke again. "Okay. I'm sorry. I was just hoping I could talk to you about something and. . . ."

And there it is again. Kara spotted the change even before her lips perked upward and her eyes widened ever so softly. The perturbed and short-tempered Kara gave way to the sympathetic and understanding Kara in the blink of an eye. It was a transformation that seemed so fluid and seamless that she found that she had to swallow the bile that threatened to escape from her throat.

"No, that's okay. What do you want to talk about?"

There was an ever so brief moment of apprehension in Cissie's eyes as she debated over the matter of whether or not this was the right time or place. Eventually, as is so often the case concerning people faced with a litany of unanswered questions, Cecilia's need to share her worries quickly overrode her concerns.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you about what you thought we're supposed to be."

"What do you mean?" Kara asked. "What who are supposed to be?"

"This. All of this." Cissie made a sweeping gesture with her arms to indicate Wayne Manor and, presumably, its many colorful inhabitants. "I mean, is this supposed to be like a big-time professional outfit like the JLA or is this more like a family group like the Titans?"

As she moved to answer, Kara found that what she was going to say hadn't quite made it to her tongue. "I'm. . . I'm not really sure," she stumbled. Beat. "What brought this question on?"

"I don't know. I was just wondering. 'Cause, you know, I'm cool with either one but with Batman coming back to town I really think I need to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. I mean, half of me wants to move all my things to Gotham and the other half of me is so scared of what Batman and Nightwing may think of what I'm thinking that I want to take the first flight back to San Francisco and see if the Elias Boarding School will take back a student that punctuated her resignation by shooting an arrow through the headmaster's diploma case."

"I'm sure there was a good reason that Batman wanted you to come to Gotham," Kara replied reassuringly. "I don't think he'll push you away after all the work he did to bring you in."

Cissie sighed as she dug the heels of her boots further into the snow. "Maybe you're right. Still, there's a big part of me that's wondering why I got back into all this crime fighting stuff in the first place. It's not as if I wasn't happy with my life as just a normal citizen."

Kara nodded slowly. "I see." She took a moment to recollect her thoughts and figure out how to precisely piece her next question together. "No offense but shouldn't you be talking with Steph about this? Or Lloyd?"

Cissie tilted her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. "What's wrong with asking you? What? You don't want to talk to me or something?"

"No," Kara replied quickly, "it's just that you and I haven't really spent a whole bunch of time together. I mean, sure there's the customary feeding sessions from Alfred and the occasional team training session but you're always paired with either Stephanie or Lloyd when we got out on patrols. If you've got a problem with what's going on here then why shouldn't you talk to them about it?"

"Well, that's the thing. Lloyd. . . Stephanie. . . even Alfred. It's like they all seem like they're all on pretty solid footing. I always just sort of viewed you as kind of an outsider. Y'know, sorta like me."

_An outsider_, Kara thought. She didn't try to figure out if that was a compliment or an insult. She just took a moment to examine the word itself and try and see if it truly fit who she was. She had spent 18 months on Earth (thirteen of them at Wayne Manor) and it just occurred to her that she still wasn't sure if she belonged here.

_But that's not the issue at hand, now is it?_

"I think you should just wait until Batman comes back and talk with him. Talk with him, get his answer and then try to figure out if what we've got going on here is something you can get on board with. And to answer your first question, I don't really know what this is or whether or not you can call it another Justice League or a Teen Titan knockoff. For all I know we may just be recluses hiding away in upstate Gotham who spend their evening dressing up in pajamas and fighting crime."

"Hey! I like my pajamas!" Cissie said with mocking indigence. Cissie snickered for a moment. "All right, all right, it's pretty easy to see that you're not really up for the in-depth analysis thing. I'll give you some alone time."

"Thank you," Kara said sincerely.

"Still, thanks for giving it a good effort. We should probably go out on the town one of these nights. Y'know, without Lloyd and Steph and their big brother-little sister shtick they've got going on. If we're both still here and all. . ."

Kara nodded ever so slightly just as Arrowette turned to head back to the manor. The archer turned around for a moment and gave her a tiny wave which she returned more out of habit than consideration.

She knew that she could have given Cissie a better answer. She could have told her about the talk she had with Batman on the way to Brother Eye or all the restaurants and clubs that Lloyd and Stephanie would drag her too and when Lloyd would "convince" the bouncers to let them in. She could have told her about that brief, wonderful moment in Antarctica when she was bone tired but so happy and how she spoke from her heart about holiday specials and unwanted toys.

But she didn't. She didn't and she knew why she didn't and it was time to deal with it.

**_You know where to find me, Kara.

* * *

_**

Misfits Confidential

Yes, I know it's been a bit of a break between chapters. The only excuse I can give you is that there's a lot of stuff going on in my life and the vast majority of it is either too complex or too boring to talk about here. I've never really worked so long at just a single project and a small part of me is still wondering why I still put so much effort into cranking all this out. Of course, then I remember your feedback and reviews and how much I've enjoyed writing this and I end up leaping back onto the computer. Thanks to everyone I've talked to about this story and everyone who took the time to read and review. I'll try not to let ya down!

Issue #31 Preview

Jesus. Three chapters of the Nom de Surre arc is in the books and we haven't even gotten to a good fight scene! Well, Kara's off to go look for her unknown tormentor so maybe we'll get a lot of fist-to-cuffs in the next go-round. And what's up with these mysterious tattoos and why are our little Misfits so interested in finding out more about them? All this and the grand journeys of Schtoltenheim Reinbach the Fourth in the next issue of The Misfits: Forced Death March down Memory Lane! Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	31. Forced Death March down Memory Lane

Issue #31

Forced Death March down Memory Lane

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

By the fourth time Stephanie had methodically slammed her head against the keyboard she found the sensation that came with the impact to be disturbingly soothing. She was reminded of the last bit of an ice cream headache when your brain was just finished being defrosted and you still could take a taste of the creamy goodness of what you just ate. She found the sensation so oddly in fact that she decided to keep going.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!! _

"Yowch! Erargh! Son of a bitch!"

Attempts number five and six weren't too bad. Not as pleasing as she hoped it would be but the endorphin kick-in wasn't too bad. Head butt number seven, on the other hand, caught the terminal at a bad angle and she ended up hitting the keyboard with the side of her head. The resulting jolt of surprise and pain hastily eliminated the novelty of her latest idea of stress relief and caused her to frantically rub at her bruised temple with the backside of her right fist.

"Well, me mum always said that any broke gadget would start workin' again if you just gave it a stiff shot with a blunt object. Any luck on your end, Tweety?"

"Screw you," Stephanie mumbled back at Lloyd while she continued to massage her aching temples.

"Bugger all, Steffers," Lloyd said as he crossed his thin arms over his chest. "'S not a very ladylike think to say."

"Oh, I'm sorry. In that case, kindly go screw yourself before going about the task of kneeling to the ground and kissing my posterior."

The two beleaguered partners shared a weary laugh at their little display before they confronted the source of their shared frustrations.

"So, I'm guessing that Nightwing and the boss had a great deal of luck finding out more about these tats we've been looking for and the people who make 'em?" Lloyd asked.

"Only if you define 'a great deal of luck' as 'a complete absence thereof'," Stephanie replied. "The factory in Berlin was a dead end. Everything had already been cleared out and Nightwing said that it looked like it had been weeks since anybody had set foot in that place. B and Nightthing are scopin' out the Berlin underbellies for any possible leads but it's not looking too good."

"Well, I'm sure the boss is jumpin' for joy about this," Lloyd said sourly.

Stephanie _hmmed_ and turned back to her keyboard. "Richie says he's even more closed-up and mired in the brood as usual. Still, mad props to Nightwing though; it's gotta be hard to differentiate different levels of depression from what is essentially an emotional eunuch."

Lloyd nodded in agreement. "Degrees of depression and overall pissiness are pretty relative when it comes to our boss."

Stephanie immediately swerved back around to stare at Lloyd. "_Pissiness?_"

Lloyd shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you'll pardon me but I have a very limited supply of colorful adjectives."

Stephanie gave Lloyd a very dubious look before turning back to the keyboard. "There is some good news though. Nightwing thinks he's figured out how Bruce and Noah originally knew each other."

"Really?" Lloyd asked as he tilted his eyes towards the stairwell that Noah had ascended only ten minutes ago. "So wot's the Brood of the Brooder sayin' now?"

Stephanie turned back around and shot Lloyd a saucy grin complete with an upraised eyebrow. "Apparently he's got conclusive evidence that Bruce and Noah originally met in Rishikesh while Bruce was attempting to get in touch with Maharashi in order to study transcendental meditation in order to become a more efficient martial artist and detective."

"Oh, I'm sure the boss loved that theory," Lloyd said with a grin. "Still, that would explain the burned Beatles albums and live recordings we found on the boss's mainframe. On the other hand, I can't picture the scourge of criminals the world over takin' the time out to learn how to play a sitar."

"I never saw the appeal in those things either," Stephanie agreed. "So, we're both in agreement that Nightwing is talking out of his exquisitely fine ass?"

"Either that or Richie got his detective's license out of a box of Cracker Jacks."

Lloyd Thomas and Stephanie Brown both broke into hysterics nearly simultaneously. The laughter was a shared gesture of comfort between two friends who knew one another far more than either of them would like to admit.

Lloyd, as was his way, was the first one to break it. "So, now that we've gotten our prerequisite smartass remarks out the way, you want to tell me what's got your feathers in a ruffle?"

Stephanie sighed. "Not really. Besides, it's probably the same things that are bothering you."

"Really, now?" Lloyd asked smartly. "Right then. Do you mind tellin' me what's on _my _mind?"

Stephanie gingerly rubbed her forehead once again and gave Lloyd a tiny smile. "All righty then, I'll give it a shot. Well, you're angry that you've spent the better part of the last two months looking around Gotham and the rest of this big, blue ball looking for whoever is behind creating these mystic, mind-altering sigils that keep popping up on quite a few of the super villains we've been wrangling up recently. You're hacked off because every trail we had available to us has long since run cold and you're not a real big fan of failure. You've got an arrow-shooting partner with a rapidly improving fashion sense wondering if she should go back to San Francisco right when you just got use to enjoying having her around. You've got another friend who is quite clearly and seriously confused and worried about where her life is going but the moment you call her on it she shoots you down and insists that nothing is wrong. And last but most certainly not least you've got a boss who is perhaps the closest shot you'll ever get to having a father figure coming back to town in less than 24 hours and you haven't seen him in months and you're really worried about how he's doing and what he's going to say about all the work you put in while he's been away."

Stephanie gave her forehead a distinct wipe to brush back a rogue wisp of blonde hair. "Does that about cover it?"

"You forgot my everlasting desire to shag Jessica Biel," Lloyd pointed out.

"Well, I didn't want to delve too deeply."

"Come on now, Steph," Lloyd said as he took a seat on Stephanie's work desk. "Have you read all the news reports? Gotham's got its lowest crime rate in years! We even got that human cholesterol farm Bullock to admit that we're doin' a helluva job. Besides, if the boss didn't like how we've been operatin' then you know as well as I do that he would have flown back here at a moment's notice."

"I know, I know," Stephanie said with a small hint of exasperation.

"And I know that we're both a bit rattled about Ciss and Zor-el but it's nothing we can't handle. There's not a doubt in my noggin that once we get the whole gang back together that we'll find a way to figure out everybody's mess."

Stephanie sighed as she slumped her head down until her chin landed on the space bar of her keyboard. "I liked this conversation better last week when you were the one who was worried and I was the one offering reassurance."

"Well, you were very good at it," Lloyd honestly replied. "I particularly liked the part when you said that the other girls were just a little jittery about Bats comin' back to town and all we had to do was assure them that they were welcome to stay here with us."

"I _was_ pretty proud about that part," Stephanie said, her sullen reply somewhat muted due to the fact that her chin was still planted firmly onto the space bar. "Lloyd, why does everybody have to be so unsure and down in the dumps? We should be happy about all we've done and I feel like I'm the only one who realizes that! Why can't everybody just be happy about who they are?"

There was an imperceptible smile on Lloyd's lips as he moved to put his hand on Stephanie's shoulders. "You can't tell anybody to be happy, Steph. No matter what evidence or testimony you can provide it's only going to work if the person believes it. If Cissie and Kara and Noah and Grayson can find that here then that's good on them and that's good for us. If not, then maybe they can find it elsewhere."

"I know that," Stephanie said flatly. She lifted her head off the work desk and turned to Lloyd with a look on her face that bordered on being a pout. "I just don't want anyone else to go elsewhere. Not for a little while at least. Is that too much to ask?"

Lloyd chuckled and rubbed the young girl's shoulders. "Look on the bright side, Tweety. If all else fails you've still got me."

"Oh joy of joys," Stephanie grumbled affectionately. "The Puppy's chosen me to be his psychological chew toy."

* * *

_Antarctica_

Kara had already had seven different conversations with herself by the time she had set foot upon the ruins of her cousin's former Fortress of Solitude. One of them had to do with her attempts to compare the gentle winter wind of Gotham with the brisk gusts that swirled around her as she flew further south. Two of them had to deal with trying to figure out who she would meet within the derelict remains of Kryptonian artifacts and technology. There was no longer the remote possibility that this was a red herring. She could almost feel it in her blood.

It was the other four debates that truly trouble her thoughts. They were the four chats where she had to convince herself that she had to do this alone. She was already imagining how Stephanie would respond to it. How Alfred would respond. How Bruce would respond.

She liked to think that Lloyd would understand. She _hoped _that Lloyd would understand.

She was following her heart more than her mind as she slowly made her way towards the jagged outline of a cavern that had formed within the base of a massive glacier. Whether or not this fracturing occurred as a result of the destruction of the Fortress or through the hectic battle with the Anti-Monitor or simply because of the effects of nature was a mystery that Kara wasn't quite in the mood to piece together. Her mind was far too busy zeroing in and focusing on the fact that this was precisely where she needed to be.

And her unknown tormentor was more than willing to point that out.

**_Tell me, Kara Zor-el. Why do you think that I chose to wait for so long to contact you?_**

Kara was surprised to find that the flickering of fear that always seemed to surface whenever the voice chose to speak with her wasn't quite as strong as she thought it would be. Maybe that was because now that she was here, now that the answers to her questions would soon be hers, that the fear had simply turned away and allowed numb fear and percolating anticipation to take its place. It was as if the different parts of her gut were having an argument over whether they should be warm or cold.

She passed through the arc within the glacier and began to move through the darkness within the mound of ice. She didn't bother to speak her thoughts aloud because she knew that her audience was already well aware of them. _I don't really know. I have to admit that I'm a little curious_. _I mean, if you wanted to make me a part of your little invasion force then it probably would have been easier to speak with me as soon as I got to Earth. _

_**Quite true, child. Your amnesia as well as your blind willingness to make this pathetic menagerie of rock and water your home would have left you quite open to manipulation. You discovered that yourself when Darkseid and Lex Luthor manipulated you with ridiculous ease. However, I chose to bide my time in order to see if you could restore yourself to your former glory. I wanted to see you become strong again before you reclaimed your place within the honorable House of El**_.

Kara continued to silently move forward. The dim sunlight that brightened the outermost recesses of the cavern could no longer reach her and even her strong eyes had a difficult time piercing the darkness around her.

_That's funny. I know my memory is a little spotty but I don't really recall any particular time when I felt like a 98-pound weakling._

_**Oh, I believe that you and I know that isn't entirely true. In your defense, you did spend over three decades within a state of cryogenic sleep. Even with the aid of your father's solar generator it is only natural that you would experience some signs of physical and psychological deterioration. **_ **_Why you couldn't even hold your own against your pathetic excuse for a cousin! I can only imagine the disgrace and shame your father would have felt if he had been alive to see you fall at the hands of that fool Kal-El. _**

_Gee, you're really rolling out the red carpet here._

_**Come now, Kara Zor-el. I mean no offense. In fact, your past failures only serve to magnify the**_ **_radiance_** **_of what you have become. You claimed the life of the Anti-Monitor with your own hands and have honed your talents and gifts to a level even beyond what they once were. You have earned the right to know the truth of what you are and are worthy of the honor and power that I have to offer you._**

The once expansive passageway within the glacier was beginning to narrow to the point where Kara could walk straight down the middle of it and feel her fingertips brushing against the hard ice.

_And is there a reason that I should take anything you have to offer or believe a single word you say? You called me an insipid, cheery girl flying around in a short skirt saving people that weren't capable of saving themselves. That kind of language usually doesn't indicate that you're up for a round of gift giving._

The voice gave off a laugh that seemed almost kindly. The sound of it was nearly as horrible for Kara to hear as any threat or ill portent that the voice had assaulted her with in the past.

**_Once again, you will have to accept my apologies. I'm afraid my pride never allowed me to consider that the efforts required to overcome your loss of memory would be any more difficult than your struggles to restore yourself to your full physical strength. However, it has become quite apparent that you will require more drastic means to restore your full psychological acuity._**

The passage was now so thin that Kara had to turn herself sideways to wedge through. She had briefly considered the notion of using her heat vision to expand the cavern but the possibility of hundreds of tons of ice collapsing upon her was not at all appetizing. She grunted in frustration as her long cape was caught and twisted around a particularly well-entrenched icicle. The cape was something that Kal-El's. . . Clark's adopted mother had sewn for her and she didn't like the thought of abandoning it.

_Lloyd's always telling me that nobody offers something for nothing. What are you going to want from me for telling me about my past? I've already told you that I don't want anything to do with the House of El. _

_**Yes, you've been quite adamant about that. **_

A massive spark of light exploded around Kara, the intense luminosity causing the young woman to instinctively clap her hands over her eyes. As the discordant swirls of color began to fade she found herself gazing in wonderment over an expansive chamber that was at least 200 feet high and far wider. The corners of the massive space were littered with technological devices so unique and unfamiliar that she could not even begin to guess the machines' points of origin. The bright, blinking lights of the various forms of machinery bounced off the sheer walls of ice that only intensified the eerie glow that lit the entire room.

Although what Kara found in the center of the room was more recognizable, the recollection did nothing to mollify her trepidation. It was an enormous podium nearly fifty feet high that was supported and surrounded by a translucent, crystalline material whose luster was somehow brighter even than the pure white of the walls of ice around her. It was the same kind of crystal that had surrounded her for well over a decade as she slept through her perilous and nearly disastrous trip to Earth after being blown of course by the destruction of her home. An array of monitors surrounded the podium and each of them showed a picture of a noble-looking man or woman with eyes as blue as her own.

She knew that these people were her family. They were her ancestors that had been atomized by Krypton's fiery annihilation. Some of them were those who could not escape the destruction while others were pictures of those long lost and whose remains were incinerated and forgotten by history but Kara knew that she could remember the names of each and every one of them if she put in just the right amount of effort.

**_However, I imagine that once I have shown you everything there is for you to know that you will find my offer to be quite advantageous for all parties involved._**

* * *

_Berlin_

"Guten Abend, mein Freund. Was kann ich Sie bekommen?"

It was relatively safe to say that Bruce Wayne had seen better days. The search of the factory that The Calculator had unearthed was nothing short of an abysmal waste of time and the cheery voice of the comely waitress did nothing to lift up his spirits. "Nothing for me," he grumbled, his sour demeanor deterring him from engaging in any known form of social conversation.

His companion had no such troubles.

"A bottle of your finest lager, mein luscious lady," Dick replied with a German accent so ridiculously thick that it was far more suitable for an episode of Hogan's Heroes than for a seedy East Berlin bar. "And please forgive my anti-social companion. He is, as you would say, 'eine suare Mieze' tonight."

Dick's uncouth and completely purposeful Freudian slip was almost enough to snap Bruce out of his funk. He gave his adopted son a blazingly hateful glare but any vocal response he could have made was immediately interrupted by the charming laughter of the waitress. Her response and her subsequent flirtatious movements that brought her closer to Dick's side was all the motivation that Bruce needed to force himself back down into his bad mood.

"You have quite the ribald tongue," the waitress said to Dick with a tone a touch more throaty than before. "Do you speak proper German or merely words that catch the eyes of charming barmaids?"

"Ich spreche es, wenn es mich eine schöne Dame an meinem Kissen verdient."

The waitress' coo of interest was just loud enough to drown out Bruce's continued grumbling. "Well, perhaps your approach would be a bit more successful if you told me your name."

Dick first replied with a slight raise of the eyebrows and a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes. "I am Schtoltenheim Reinbach the Fourth. My living statue of a partner calls himself Matches Malone and allow me that you'll rarely ever find him in a better mood than he has now."

The waitress' laughter once again served to obscure Bruce's grunt of disgust. Dick, however, couldn't help but hear it and draw a bit of satisfaction from it.

"That cannot be your real name," the young lady said brightly. "Do you not know that it is rude to lie about the simplest of things when you choose to woo a lady?"

"Then perhaps you can discover my true identity as the night goes on," Nightwing replied as he abandoned his Col. Clink accent for his normal, smooth patois. "Would this interest you at all?"

"Quite possibly yes," the waitress replied as she backed away from the table while never taking her eyes off Dick's pectoral muscles. "However, I must first get you your drink."

Dick took a moment to watch the distinctive wiggle of the waitress' hips as she moved to the bar to place her order. "Gotta love German girls," Nightwing said with a Roy Harper-esque grin. "Not afraid to have a little junk in the trunk and they usually don't mind it if they drink you under the table. I don't know, maybe it just makes it simpler for them to have their way with you."

"Let me ask you a question, Dick."

"I'm sorry?" Nightwing replied, his outlandish Germanic accent resurfacing in an instant. "There is no 'Dick' here. I am Schtoltenheim Reinbach the Fourth, scourge of the Berlin mafia and world class beer pong competitor. . ."

"Dick, do yourself a favor and shut up."

Nightwing felt momentarily tempted to push his father's buttons further but the no-nonsense look in Batman's eyes told him that it was the time to stop. "Well, since you asked so nicely. What's your question?"

Bruce slowly uncrossed his arms and placed his hands firmly upon the mock oak table. "Why _are _you still here?"

"I already answered that one," Nightwing replied with an impatient huff. "I didn't want you to turn into some Howard Hughes-like recluse while you took your little trip to clear your head. I just figured the last thing the world needed was another isolationist billionaire thinking that he was answering all the world's problems while storing the product of his bathroom exploits in his basement."

Batman was not the least deterred by Nightwing's unnecessary vim and vinegar this time. "All right, now that we've gotten the reactionary, self-defensive garbage out of the way then maybe we can get to the truth of the matter."

Nightwing sighed wearily as he looked his father dead in the eyes.

_I'm not going to get away from it this time, am I?_

_No_, _you're not._

Dick took a moment to drum his fingers against the tabletop.

Bruce crossed his arms over his broad chest once again and continued to wait patiently.

"Well, maybe you're not the only one at this table who's a little worried about what they're supposed to do with their life," Nightwing finally relented.

"I beg your pardon?" Bruce asked.

Now it was Nightwing's turn to cross his arms over his chest. "_I beg your pardon? _What kind of question is that? Since when did the world's greatest detective ever need clarification for a simple answer?"

"Dick. . ." Bruce warned with thinning patience.

Nightwing sighed once again. "Well, it's not like that there are a lot of people that would willingly take me back with open arms. I left the Outsiders in the lurch, I never really was big on joining the Justice League and Babs would probably have Helena put my head in a vice the next time we cross paths."

"Nonsense," Batman replied. "There's no denying that you would have to make a great many explanations but you know as well as I do that you'd quickly be put back into any fold you chose to go into."

"Is that right?" Dick asked with a smirk.

"Absolutely," Bruce replied. "Despite your efforts, you still haven't quite acquired the ability to burn bridges as effectively as your old man."

"Yet another goal I can continue to pursue during my continued efforts to leap free of the shadow of the Caped Crusader," Dick said with a twinge of bitterness.

"Dick, if you're going to continue to act like a clown then I'll be more than happy to offer up my own conclusions as to why you refuse to move on with your life." Bruce said soberly. "We are returning to Gotham tomorrow, after all."

"Bruce, did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just a guy who wanted to spend some time with his old man while he still could?"

* * *

**_You are the sole daughter of Zor-el and the eldest heir to the House of El. Your father was not merely a scientist like that pathetic Jor-el but also a nobleman and a warrior who fought for Krypton both as a soldier and as a supplier of advanced weaponry. He was a brilliant man who devoted his life into ensuring that Krypton would continue to remain the most technologically advanced civilization throughout the cosmos and you were to be his crowning achievement._**

Kara's eyes widened as her eyes caught the flickering image of her father. A bizarre brew of wonderment and fear churned in her gut as flickers of the past flashed in front of her eyes.

"My sweet, little Kara. . . My greatest gift. . ."

**_Zor-el spent years searching for the proper subject to carry his child. He conducted numerous examinations over the course of several years to find the Kryptonian female worthy of bearing his legacy. When his search was over he had chosen a. . . goodly woman; a woman whose beauty was rivaled only by wisdom well beyond her years._**

"Alura." Kara said the familiar name in a tone that sounded almost dreamlike. This name held no degree of deep-seated hatred or doubt within her muddled memories. She may have doubted her father and the thoughts that came with remembering him but she knew her mother to be good. It was that certainty that had often been the strongest grip on her sanity as she tried to remember her past.

Try as she may, however, she couldn't think of a specific moment or thought that she could remember her by.

**_Yes, Alura. She was a truly fine specimen, an ideal candidate to carry a child of the House of El. That is, of course, if she wasn't barren._**

Kara's eyes widened as shock and horror and truth crashed into her at a velocity that even she couldn't keep up with. "No," she murmured as she clutched her hands onto the side of her head. "No! Alura is my mother! My father told me that! I REMEMBER THAT!"

**_You remembered what your father wanted you to remember. For all his genius and ability your father possessed quite the litany of moral foibles. For example, his disgust of other civilizations was not enough of a deterrent to keep him from bedding females from a lower race both before and after his marriage to Alura. Still, as shameful as his frequent illegitimate liaisons were, it was this particular habit that kept Alura alive as long as she had been._**

Kara couldn't keep the room from spinning. She couldn't keep the memories out.

**_Of course, part of Zor-el's willingness to engage in these affairs was the low likelihood of pregnancy. The reproductive systems of Kryptonians are notoriously finicky when other civilizations are thrown into the equation and Jor-el never suspected that any of his seeds would bear fruit. Fortunately for you, one of them did._**

Then another image appeared on the screen. It was a tall woman with a long, graceful neck and her coal-black eyes looked held a countenance of determination and strength. Her legs were long and coltish, her arms lean and sturdy and her bright, blonde hair flowed beautifully from the top of her head all the way to the small of her back.

"Learna," Kara whispered.

Now it wasn't a matter of trying to grab some small scrap of remembrance. Now Kara was trying desperately to plug up the delugeof memories that threatened to drown her.

**_Yes, Learna. Well, say what you will about your father's moral foibles but it is hard to deny that he had quite the knowledgeable eye when it came to finding women to warm his bedside. Learna was the leader of a small resistance group on a war-torn planet that had begged Krypton for aid. Jor-el was the one sent to answer the call and he had no trouble at all meeting her demands. He had abandoned the poor woman once he had his fun, of course, but this union produced something Jor-el had never anticipated. When he returned to Krypton and discovered Alura's infertility, he quickly began to design his plan to murder Alura in a manner that wouldn't arouse any suspicions of blame towards him. After all, there was no value in the woman if she could not produce his offspring._**

Another image was on the central screen now. It was a small child no more than a year old swathed within a pure-white blanket. A wisp of blonde hair worked itself from its cloth confines and hung loosely over the girl's forehead and when the child opened her eyes they were wide and just as blue as the eyes of her father.

**_It was nearly two years until Learna managed to find Zor-el and inform him that he had a daughter. Zor-el knew the political consequences of such a forbidden union and quickly went to work covering his mistakes. He placed both Alura and Learna under deep hypnosis and altered their memories to create a story that would allow him to preserve his political status and public dignity. When the smokescreens were clear, the people of Krypton all believed that Alura had a daughter upon a distant planet and had brought her back to Krypton to be raised under the proud eyes of the House of El. Learna was shunted off to a distant planet without her daughter and without any knowledge that she had ever had a daughter._**

A new image appeared on the screen in front of Kara. She had wanted to turn away from it but found that she couldn't quite work herself up to doing it. This one was a moving shot, her father was walking about and cradling her in his arms. She was still enveloped within the snow-white blanket so Kara presumed that only a small time had passed. It would have been quite the charming scene if the look on her father's eyes had not been so. . . so alarming. There was shock and anger and profound revulsion on his face as he nudged a portion of the blanket aside so he could get a better look at his daughter. It was as if he couldn't quite convince himself that he was holding such an abomination.

**_Your father had originally planned to exterminate you at the soonest opportunity. It wouldn't have been any trouble at all to corrupt Alura's memories and convince her that her child died young. After all, it was believed to be that she was barren and postnatal complications were not exactly uncommon in such circumstances. However, his curiosity overwhelmed him and he chose to examine you before sending you to an early grave._**

Baby Kara strapped to a lab table. Imaging equipment and tubes and spent needles cluster the surrounding work area. The child is not merely crying but screaming. . . an ear-splitting blast of pain that nearly forced the grown-up Kara to tears.

**_Now imagine his surprise upon the discovery that this particular mixture of genetic information had managed to produce something quite extraordinary. Your physical strength and reflexes proved to be far beyond anything he could have possibly imagined. Your blood chemistry also proved to be equally remarkable. The typical Kryptonian weakness to forces of magic and the supernatural, for example, was blunted significantly as well. _**

Zor-el is floating above an enormous crowd. He reveals the glorious prize in his hands to the throngs below. The screams are far too loud for the child and far too loud for the 17-year-old girl watching it all.

**_And thus you became Zor-el's greatest gift to the people of Krypton. As you grew into womanhood you wanted for nothing and the people of an entire planet were at your beck and call. Even as Krypton grew enmeshed within more and more military conflicts and the status of the Kryptonian nobility sunk lower and lower in the eyes of the commoners, you were still regarded as the face of our civilization's future. Of course, this respect was now fostered through fear rather than awe but you were hardly one to quibble._**

_Bet she doesn't have a thought in that pretty little head of hers._

_Nothing but a violent, little brat._

_**Yes, it appeared that everything was going quite smoothly for Zor-el. That is, of course, until Learna broke free of her hypnosis. **_

Dozens of warships were descending upon Krypton. The intricate frescos and columns surrounding the landing site made it obvious to Kara that the fleet had landed right at the front of her father's estate.

**_As you can imagine, a proud, strong woman like Learna was not one to take the abduction of her child and the raping of her mind too lightly. She returned to her home world and gathered a band of sympathizers before traveling to Krypton and righting the wrongs that had been inflicted upon her. As if this wasn't trouble enough for Zor-el but Learna's appearance and harsh words also sparked Alura's memories and reminded her of her husband's transgressions. _**

Kara's body could no longer hold her own weight. She sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around her bare stomach. "Nonono," she mumbled, each denial louder than the last.

**_Zor-el did what he had to do_**.

Icy blue eyes, a sharp blade, a splatter of blood.

**_Zor-el killed his wife._**

Dozens of screams. Blood coating the walls. A single figure standing in the middle of a massive atrium surrounded by bodies.

**_And he had you kill the rest. You slaughtered each and every one of the soldiers that Learna had convinced to join her, a force seven hundred and eighty-two strong._**

An immense flash of crimson light.

**_You saved Learna for last._**

Now Learna was on the blood soaked carpets. The beautiful, blonde mane was the only recognizable aspect of her now since her body had been broken and smashed. Two holes the size of Kara's pupils punctured the woman's forehead.

**_However, Krypton had far more pressing concerns than the crumbling of the House of El. One of Krypton's enemies had managed to infiltrate deep inside the crust of the planet and quickly went about destroying it from within. Krypton was primed to be destroyed and there were precious few crafts available to transport its beleaguered citizens away from the explosion. In fact, only two managed to get away: you and the infant child of Jor-el, Zor-el's brother._**

Another child was upon the screen now. He was a somewhat pudgy infant with big, blue eyes. Kara clenched her teeth as she watched her uncle Jor-el wrap his child several times over with a red blanket adorned with the Kryptonian sigil for resurrection. Kara knew what the sigil meant because it was the same symbol on her shirt, the shirt that had been made for her and given to her as a gift from Martha Kent.

**_Your father gave you his final request upon the eve of Krypton's destruction. He decided that he would not allow his hated brother to be a part of Krypton's legacy. You were to follow Jor-el's child to Earth and kill him. It was an order that you had no trouble at all agreeing to do because you were your father's child and you shared his belief that the House of El should not be tarnished by Jor-el's spawn._**

Kara's tears were blinding her. She wanted to be strong and deny it all but she knew it was all true and the crushing weight of truth made her as weak as a newborn kitten.

**_So, now you know the entire truth. The meteor storm may have postponed your objective but there is no time like the present to go about completing your task. Kara Zor-el, eldest heir to the esteemed House of El, I command you to travel to Metropolis and exterminate the last son of Krypton. I command you to kill Kal-El!_**

The commanding voice inside Kara's head faded into the background only to be replaced by a horrible buzzing sound that threatened to wrench every ounce of sanity from her. Trickles of blood leaked from her ears and nose as she did everything she could to fight the command that had been given to her, the sole purpose of her existence that had been hammered into her for over 30 years.

_My father is always telling me that you low-class filth only have half a brain cell in your underdeveloped skulls._

_Hey, Kare Bear! You want to try this new chili I just made? Come on! Don't look like that. Why can't you just trust your sister Stephanie? _

_I want you to travel to whatever low-grade civilization that my foolish brother has sent his child and I want you to exterminate that child and everything else on it. _

_No problem, daddy._

_Kara. I apologize for my behavior towards you. However, whenever you're ready, I would like to talk about what happened. _

_Please. . . Please don't do this. I'm your mother._

'_S no good worryin' on about it. Besides, you aren't exactly a lone traveler, are you?_

_My sweet little Kara. . . My greatest gift._

The intensity of Kara's scream was enough to cause the cavern to tremble and schisms to form on the sheer ice walls. Monitors shattered and stalactites lost their once firm grip on the high ceiling and plummeted to the ground. A bit of her hair ripped free from her head from the pressure of the grip she had on it and her crystal blue eyes once again turned crimson red.

Her heart was beating like a jackhammer.

_You need to concentrate Supergirl. You came to Gotham to learn how to make certain your emotions won't get the better of you and the only way you can learn that is if you listen to me_.

The lethal energy in her eyes began to dissipate.

_Come on, Kare Bear! Just chill for a minute. Everything'll be all right!_

She heard her heart beat become slower and deeper. The cacophony within her skull turned into a dull roar.

_There you are, Zor-el. Ya not gonna let this get the best of you, are ya? Shake it off, luv. You're better than this._

Now she couldn't even hear the voice at all.

"Well," the voice said aloud. "I didn't anticipate this."

It took a moment for Kara to pull herself away from the blessed silence within her. She brought life back into her lungs with enormous, heavy gasps. She rose to her feet the moment she could, confidence and pride radiating from every portion of her lithe frame. She flashed the toothiest grin she could manage and slowly turned in a circle so that whatever bastard or bitch that had tried to take her mind would have no trouble seeing that they had failed.

"Nice try. Really nice try. Still, I'm not planning on being your sheep," Kara said coldly. "You see, I just suddenly remembered that the House of El has a rich tradition of doing what they want to do."

Kara's declaration was answered by a gentle whirring sound that Kara quickly determined to be coming from the enormous podium in the center of the chamber. With her faculties restored and the podium coming closer to the ground, Kara could see that someone was standing on top of the cylindrical structure. As the sound of crystals cracking and smashing from the podium's descent permeated the room, Kara had no trouble identifying the figure. It was a creature that Kara had only seen from Batman's criminal files but she didn't require any previous encounters with this monster to realize that she wasn't quite out of the woods.

"Yes," Brainiac replied. "It's a problem that I've often experienced with your cousin. Unlike Kal-El, however, I have a tendency to learn from my mistakes."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Huh. Wasn't planning on having the chapter be this long. Yes, I know that's a common complaint of mine but that doesn't meant that it isn't true. I hope the chapter's length partially makes up for the time between updates. On the plus side, things are looking better and I'm really eager to start writing about these guys and gals. Please keep on reading and reviewing and please enjoy the next chapter preview.

Issue #32 Preview

So Kara's tormentor has been revealed. Now the question is how many pieces everybody's favorite rogue Coulan scientist is going to end up in once our heroine is done with him, right? Well, it doesn't seem like Brainiac agrees with that and it looks pretty likely that he's got another trick up his sleeve. A Kryptonian slobberknocker, a father-son heart-to-heart and some bitching and squabbling between Lloyd and Stephanie are all on the menu in our next issue of _The Misfits_: Bloody Black Sheep. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	32. Bloody Black Sheep

Issue #32

Bloody Black Sheep

Ever since she had arrived on Earth, Kara Zor-el had tried very hard not to hate anyone. She was unsure of herself and uncertain of how she should behave so she thought that the best way that she could fit in was to keep an open mind about everyone she met. She didn't want anyone to judge her just because she chose to take the easy way out and jump to conclusions. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. That was what Earthlings said, right?

That being said, Kara was quite certain that no one would really take issue if she just went ahead and hated Brainiac. Despite their penchant for things such as ethnic superiority and cultural assimilation, Kara found the people of Earth to be quite the understanding lot.

Although his appointed _nom de guerre _may sound ridiculous to some, there is no doubt that Brainiac is the worst kind of monster. He is a genius possessed with a thirst for domination, the drive and ambition to formulate plans that would satiate that thirst and the cold, immoral determination to carry those out without the slightest chafing upon his tenuous moral scruples. He was a man so feared that even the tyrannical government of his own home world deemed him far too dangerous to exist and sought to execute him. However, the Coulan known as Vril Dox would not allow even death to stifle his designs. With a death sentence hanging over his head, the scientist hastily created a device that would project his consciousness across the cosmos towards a planet that he deemed would be worthy of his presence and eventual leadership.

Unfortunately for all those who came to call it home, Brainiac had chosen Earth to be that planet.

Thus far, Vril Dox's ambitions have failed to reach fruition thanks mostly through the efforts of Superman. His frequent failures in defeating the Man of Steel have resulted in a festering obsession to defeat the hero by collecting as much information as he could concerning Kryptonian technology and physiology in order to best determine the best ways and means of defeated his hated foe. His almost fixated efforts have made him perhaps the preeminent expert upon that once flourishing civilization.

Kara Zor-el, perhaps the only person still alive who could challenge Brainiac for that title, settled down into a fighting stance that Lloyd had taught her the very first time they trained together. She kept her eyes locked onto the Coulan scientist as the mechanized podium he was standing on finished its descent and her ears upon any other suspicious sounds that could have been the forbearer of a multi-pronged attack. She took a small portion of the hatred that her father had taught her and mixed it with the serene teachings and thoughts that Batman and Lloyd had worked so hard to pound into her and felt a little bit stronger.

"Did you really think that I would let you manipulate me, Brainiac? You shouldn't have let the blonde hair make you think I'm that stupid. I mean, I would have thought that a big-time information junkie like you would be able to look past something like that."

"You don't know what you are," Brainiac replied coolly as he continued to advance towards her.

His physical body, a cybernetic construct of a Coulan body unwillingly created by some of Earth's finest engineers, was actually humming, a physical resonance reflecting the telepathic and telekinetic energy stored within it. Muscular, bottle green arms covered by a royal purple uniform swung effortlessly at his sides as he moved towards Kara with sure and easy steps. Sinuous tendrils of organic material the color of bone were entwined around his meaty fists and long feet. They too had a purpose: to augment the android body's impressive strength in order to be able to go punch-for-punch with the sternest of fighters. The frightening profile was concluded with a bald, pale-green head as green which was festooned with processing diodes whose lights intermittently flashed and illuminated the darkened cavern.

"Your inability to recall your past prompted you to walk side-by-side with the people your father had wanted you to destroy. You clothe yourself within ludicrous garments created by Earthlings that are inscribed with a Kryptonian cipher you once reviled."

"Oh, like you're the only one who thinks the belly shirt and the skirt looks silly," Kara bit back in an irritated, half-serious tone that Stephanie would have been proud of. "Don't start acting as if you've never had any issues with your tailor."

Unfortunately, Brainiac was not the least bit fazed by Kara's attempts to draw a rise out of him. "Your desire to belong made you prey to the manipulation of lesser beings. Those failures prompted you to place your drive and ambition to the task of finding a home in a land you were sent to destroy. And now, the woman destined to be the mightiest of the entire Kryptonian race has transformed herself into a child plagued by insecurities and detached nightmares."

Kara thought that Brainiac's smooth, mechanical voice would have sounded oddly soothing if his words had not been so caustic. The fact that the two of them were now within arm's length of one another also did nothing to allay her understandable anger.

"I offered you the opportunity to recover what you had lost, a chance to reclaim your knowledge, your power, your very reason for existence. I must admit that I find your denunciation of my actions to be quite vexing."

"You tried to manipulate me into killing the only family I have left so you can advance your own selfish means," Kara replied with a decidedly uneven tone. So much of her wanted to scream and rage and destroy and so much of her found that to be a horrible thing to consider even after all of this. "I suppose it may sound like I'm being unappreciative but I just don't think I can go along with you. I've grown to like my new home and I'd prefer for it to stay in one piece."

Brainiac sighed, a gesture that Kara found to be profoundly unnerving coming from the face of an android. "We are both the pinnacle of our respective civilizations, creatures so genetically superior to all around us that we were hated and deemed too dangerous to live by so many of those who lived around us. I had hoped that this similarity would become the flourishing point of a valuable alliance but I see that I was mistaken. You have spent too much time absorbing the weaknesses of these Earthlings."

The android's automated voice box produced a sound that Kara could only deduce to be a scoffing scratch of laughter. It didn't sound like anything an Earthling or even a Kryptonian could produce.

"Now you're weak. No better than your pitiable cousin."

Kara had to tilt her long neck a bit further than she would have liked in order to look Brainiac in the eyes. "Actually, there is a difference between me and my cousin," she replied calmly. "See, when _I _beat you down, I'm going to make it so you'll never come back to bother me again."

"You are welcome to try," Brainiac replied ever calmly. "The data I will gather from our encounter will surely be a constructive source of information for when I will go about eliminating Kal-El and the rest of your adopted family."

Kara's first two punches were fast, vicious and hit nothing but the thin, telekinetic force bubble that Brainiac had assembled the moment that she had started swinging. The third punch managed to punch the slightest of temporary holes within the field and allowed her to plant her fist into Brainiac's chest. However, the blunting ability of the force shield and the Coulan's sturdy, robotic frame allowed Brainiac to weather the blow easily and he was quick to counter with a telepathic blast. Kara had been wise to raise up her own defenses, neurological ramparts that she had constructed through months of training to resist Brainiac's attempt to shut down her cerebral cortex. Unfortunately, the defensive measure gave Brainiac enough time to throw and land a huge fist solidly across Kara's jaw. The impact of the punch coupled with a telekinetic burst was enough to send Kara hurtling into the ice walls of the cavern with such velocity that the entire glacier gave off a mighty tremble.

A smile of sickening superiority was plastered onto Brainiac's face as he continued to pour on his attack and further embed the Kryptonian into the ice. "This is a tactic that I found to be rather effective when battling Kal-El," Brainiac explained in that mechanized voice that sounded so very different than the voice that had clawed at Kara for months. "I ask you not to resist. I will now simply pummel you with telekinetic energy until you are unconscious. I am certain that this will not take long. . ."

Kara worked herself free in a heart beat and rushed at Brainiac once again.

The Coulan only had the briefest moment to appreciate the young woman's speed and constitution before a small but solid fist sent him crashing into the other side of the glacier interior. Sensors warned the android of interior damage and rising core temperature as Kara's subsequent flash of heat vision threatened to melt his external shell. A split-second calculation of the current intensity of the blast measured it to be beyond Kal-El's maximum capabilities and the blast appeared to growing hotter by the moment. Of course, Vril Dox had prepared well for this possibility and the combination of his own telekinesis and the android body's cooling mechanisms were more than enough to nullify the potential damage.

Although her heat vision failed, Kara was knowledgeable enough about the field of battle to realize that she had the advantage and was quick to press upon it. She shut off her heat vision in a flash and flew directly at the android in order to bring the battle back into close quarters. Her opponent fired an energy blast in an attempt to repel her but a focused swipe of the back of her left hand batted that aside. She then turned her palm into a fist and slammed it into Brainiac's jaw, returning the haymaker that the android had given her. Harsher and quicker blows were soon to follow, each of them targeting a specific body part where Kara had presumed that Brainiac's telekinetic force bubble was weakest.

The young woman's flurry was capped off by a solid double-axe handle that struck Brainiac squarely upon his large forehead. The exceedingly well-tempered glass protecting the diodes surrounding the android's positronic brain shattered violently, the tinkling of broken glass soon accompanied by a small shower of sparks as Brainiac rushed to minimize the damages. Recognizing the foolishness of continuing to engage in close combat with the enraged young woman and desperate to stave off his destruction, he rerouted his energy reserves into his few remaining functional diodes and emitted a solar flare. The intense flash was not powerful enough to harm Zor-el but the momentary distraction was enough to give him the opening he needed to fire a massive telekinetic blast that separated him from his formidable aggressor.

"Absolutely remarkable." Brainiac's mechanized voice did no justice to the fascination and respect that Vril Dox held for Kara's physical capabilities. "To have so much power at so young an age. . . You truly have the potential to be Krypton's greatest champion."

"It's a little late for flattery," Kara pointed out, her normally big, bright-blue eyes thinned to slits.

"I was not attempting to flatter you. I was merely assessing your ability and gauging what I will require to kill you. Pity. . . You would have made a fantastic colleague."

A massive blast of telekinetic energy struck Kara from behind before she could ask Brainiac what he meant by what he would have to do to kill her. When she got back up to her feet and saw five Brainiacs surrounding her, she quietly assumed that she could answer that question on her own.

* * *

_Beijing_

"You pathetic dust moppet! Did you truly believe you possessed the required capabilities to best me? Are you truly that blinded by your insignificant morsel of power?"

Lloyd grumbled in a mildly irritated fashion and scratched the back of his head with his right hand. "I think you're torturing us with that shoddy Elizabeth impersonation just as much as that poor bloke you're chewin' out, pet. How 'bout puttin' us all out of our miseries and go about interrogatin' 'im."

"And hurry it up," Arrowette added in an equally grumbly fashion, "This wild goose chase all over this big-ass town made me hungry and I'm in the mood for some Szechwaun." She turned towards Lloyd. "Oh, and by the way, I _told_ you we should have never let her watch those documentaries on PBS."

Stephanie tried her best to look imperious and chagrined as her two comrades expressed their exasperation. "Who are you to speak in such a way?" she asked in a haughty tone that sounded less like "The Queen Mum" and more like Benny Hill. "You will respect my authoritah!!"

"Good God, shut up! Let's at least maintain some false veneer of dignity and professionalism," Lloyd snapped before kneeling down to look eye-to-eye with the Chinese man trembling in Robin's arms. His pallid, yellow skin was growing paler and clammier by the moment and his trembling seemed to magnify the closer Lloyd moved towards him. Lloyd removed the arrow that Cissie had shot into the man's thigh with a sharp tug that brought about a shrill hiss from the man's sweat-soaked lips.

Lloyd was quick to manipulate the man's brain into releasing the required endorphins that the poor soul would need to keep him conscious but still well-aware of the pain before launching into his own inquisition. "Now we know you can speak English since we heard you yell out the warning to your mates. So, I'm just gonna ask what you were doin' here and wait somewhat patiently for you to reply in the same language that I'm using to chat with you. If you're in the mood to withhold that information then I will be more than willing to pluck it out your noggin myself. In fact, the only reason I haven't done that already is the slight possibility of my causin' permanent damage to your brain if I root around your grey matter so take my advice and make your answers quick."

"Ooh, I like that you're giving him advice! That's awfully nice of you, Black Dog," Robin said cheerily.

"Well, thank you, pet," Lloyd replied while keeping his eyes squarely on his suspect.

"Just be sure to save some thanks for your old boss," Arrowette added as she wrapped her long fingers around the back of her neck and settled against a pile of wooden palettes. "We never would have found this place without his tip-off."

Lloyd broke away from his stare and gave a nod to his relaxing associate. "Oh, that's for sure," he admitted before turning back to the quivering suspect in Stephanie's arms. "Not real bright of ya to be cookin' up all this nasty brew here. Bloody hell, this place might as well be Mao's back yard and he doesn't take kindly to weeds like you gummin' up his works. Right then, you wanna tell us about your part in makin' these mystical tats or should I just break out the psychic pick axe?"

The black eyes of the panicked man were shifting rapidly back and forth between Lloyd and Stephanie. "Don't know," he said in a panicked mumble. "Don't know."

"He says he doesn't know! Goody!" Stephanie cheered as she used her ring to create the spectral equivalent of a mattock. "I call dibs on the forebrain!"

Before Lloyd could decide whether or not he wanted to go along with Stephanie's little game he was interrupted by the sound of metal rods crashing upon the tile floor of the factory. The sound came from quite a ways a way but the good acoustics of the building allowed Lloyd to locate the source of the noise in nearly no time at all. One of the previously incapacitated factory workers had recovered and was making a dash for it. Moreover, once the worker realized that he had caught their attention he gasped and picked up his frantic pace.

"Right then," Lloyd said calmly. "Any takers?"

"Mine."

Lloyd turned to see Cecilia King-Jones with her bow primed and an arrow at the string. Her long, slender arms quickly pulled the bowstring taut until the arrow's feathers brushed against her ear. Her target was nearly at the other end of the factory, a distance of at least 80 feet, before she let the arrow fly. Lloyd smiled as Arrowette fired the shot and the pointed projectile whistled through the air.

It was a simple contest. A panicked man running away from someone who may very well have been the world's greatest archer?

THUNK!

In fact, it wasn't a contest at all.

The man went down knees first with a messy thump and a howl of pain. Cissie had chosen to shoot him in the back of the upper thigh with a shot accurate enough for the arrow to not hit a bit of bone but so strong that the head of the arrow could be clearly seen poking out of the front side of the fleeing man's leg.

"Not too shabby," Lloyd said sincerely.

"Well, I think that puts me at my quota," Cissie replied as she placed her bow back into the compartment in front of the quiver strapped to her back.

Lloyd grinned knowingly, one hunter to another. "Well, it's your guy. Want to lend me a hand with the questionin'?"

They were at the man's feet before Arrowette could properly reply. She let out a gasp of surprise that was almost immediately followed by an anguished groan as she clutched at her stomach.

"God damn it! How about a little warning before you go and do something like that?" Cissie asked angrily.

"Come on now, luv. 'S not the first time you've been 'ported and I wanted to cut down on your travelin' time. Figured I'd be doin' ya a favor."

"Well, you shouldn't be teleporting anybody with an empty stomach," Arrowette growled. "In fact, you shouldn't be teleporting anybody at all! It's just not right for human beings to just go on zapping from one place to another! It's an unproven science! What if next time you get a brain fart and suddenly forget to teleport one of my kidneys?"

"Well, you'll still have the other one," Lloyd pointed out.

"Yeah, well I don't want to take that chance!"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Lloyd said good-naturedly as he moved to examine the man that Cissie brought down. "You chits are always. . ." His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of the man's neck. "Complainin'. . ."

Lloyd's shock was enough to break Arrowette away from her vexation and get back to being serious. "What? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah! What's goin' on over there!" Stephanie shouted from the other end of the factory. "Do I still get to operate on this guy's brainpan or what?"

"Put him down, Robin," Lloyd said flatly. "I think we just found ourselves a bigger fish to fry."

Robin nodded and turned back to the whimpering fellow in her hands. "You know, maybe you should just lie down and wait for medical attention."

The man didn't have any trouble taking that advice.

Stephanie willed her ring to give her the gift of flight and was at Lloyd's side within the fraction of a moment. She followed his eyes and took a moment to stare at the marking as well. "I don't know. It doesn't look any different to me than all the other tattoos and drawings we keep finding on these dopes. What? Do you recognize this one?"

"Vaguely," Lloyd said as he tapped the communicator planted within his right ear to bring it to life. "But I think I know somebody who can tell me a lot more. Calculator! How quick can you fetch me somethin' from your video archives?"

"Not long at all, Black Dog," Noah replied. "However, it would benefit me greatly if you would tell me what it is you wish for me to find."

Lloyd smiled grimly. "You may have to dig a little deep for this one, Answer Man. After all, we haven't been back there in a while."

* * *

_Berlin_

"You keep telling me that you want to break out of my shadow. You want to find your own place in the sun. Now I've always felt that I respected your wishes to become your own man but I want you to honestly explain to me why you chose to stay with me these past twelve months after I gave you so many opportunities to jump ship."

Richard Grayson suddenly found himself paying an unseemly amount of attention to the abating foam at the top of his glass stein. He wasn't really much of a partaker in the consumption of alcohol unless Roy or Wally was around and he hadn't seen either of them in over a year. "You know why I stayed."

"Yes, I do," Bruce replied calmly. "But I want you to tell me the reason."

_This is the problem with having the world's greatest detective as a father. _"I told you. I'm scared."

_This is the problem with having a son who wants so much for himself. _"That's not the entire answer."

_Why do you want me to admit this to you so badly? _"Well, then I'm afraid of what the people I care about will think of me."

_Why does my son try so hard to shy away from what he's worried about? _"Still only part of the answer. Try again."

_I don't really know the answer. _"Maybe I don't really care too much about how you and The Calculator knew each other. Maybe I just don't feel comfortable working with him."

_The only way he's going to figure it out is if he searches himself for the answer. _"But yet you still feel the need to speak with him on a near-daily basis if only so the two of you can engage in infantile banter."

_It beats brooding with you all day. _"It beats brooding with you all day."

Bruce gave off a deep sigh as he slumped his shoulders. While running his left hand through his hair he extended his right arm towards the untouched pint of beer that the waitress had left for his ward. He drew the glass to his lips and drank deeply enough so that remnants of foam were dabbled underneath his nose in the moment before he ran a hand across it to wipe it off.

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. His father never drank. Compared to his father, he was Ollie Queen in terms of superhero-related alcohol consumption. The shock drawn from the gesture was so much that he almost jumped when Bruce slammed the glass tankard back onto the table with just enough force for a bit of lager to slosh over the top.

"Son, we can't leap tall buildings at a single bound, we can't use a ring to create anything we need for any situation and we aren't empowered by some unnamed demonic entity. We are human and we are vulnerable and the only way that we can prove equal to these gods is to harness the one thing that each one of these gods have within them."

"Fear."

Dick grumbled as he said the one word that perhaps defined everything he was. This was a very familiar lesson that Bruce was giving him, a lesson that had been hammered into him since before he even stepped foot into Wayne Manor. It was a lesson that his parents had taught him well before they would even let him get close to a tightrope or allow him to engage in any death-defying feat under the big top.

"The only way to cross over fear is to do what you are afraid of doing," Bruce said sagely, his voice so far away from the "Billionaire Bruce" who bored Dick to tears at countless receptions and parties that he had been forced to attend while growing up at Wayne Manor. "Before you can do what you are afraid of doing you must first realize what you are afraid of. Admit it to yourself, express it and then work to conquer it."

"Dad, you're a little too young and pale to be impersonating Yoda. You should have went more with the Ben Kenobi approach. Maybe a sort of a mixture of McGregor and Guinness."

Dick had wanted to take the serious side. He really wanted to. The bottom line though is that it just wasn't the way he was wired. Maybe he would have if he was Nightwing, reticent leader of the Outsiders or exuberant leader of the Titans. Right now though he was Dick Grayson, partner of Batman, and he had spent far too long being the yang to his father's yin to merely limit himself to a conciliatory nod and an honest confession.

Fortunately and unfortunately, his father knew that too.

"Okay. I'm too old to go back to being a Teen Titan, my stint as an Outsider failed miserably and I can't really step foot into a Justice League meeting without thinking that the only reason I'm there is because you're not."

"You're welcome on my team, son. I told you that back in Antarctica and I'm telling you that here."

"Yes, my father's team," Dick fired back with a little too much causticity then he would have probably liked to openly express. "You know, I would have believed I would have had a place if it wasn't so blatantly obvious that you went out of your way to replace everybody who knew you while I was gone."

"Now that's unfair. . ."

"You replaced Tim with Stephanie, Babs with Noah, and Clark and Cass with Kara. And don't tell me that you just brought Lloyd on board because your former teacher wanted you to take care of him! You didn't raise me to be that gullible! Now I know that you're offering me a spot because you feel like you owe it to me but just what am I supposed to do with it? Where do I fit in with your master plan now?!"

"Son, I didn't want you to join me out of obligation or pity," Bruce said coldly. "And you know damn well that I can't tell you what you're supposed to do now. Only you can answer that."

Dick gave off a bitter chuckle as he swiped his beer back from his father's side of the table. He took a moment to consider the contents of the glass before he tilted his head back and downed the rest of it down to the dregs.

"It's not fair. Don't you know it's the father that's supposed to run out of ways to change their life before the son does?"

Bruce gave Richard his best effort at a paternal smile. "You've been planning your future since you were 14 years old, Dick. If you wouldn't mind, your old man would like to lend a hand at the driving wheel while you get on your feet. This isn't a gesture of pity or worry that you wouldn't be able to do it on your own. I know you'll find your way back to whatever you want to be and I think you know that too. After all, I like to think I raised you better than that."

Dick found he had to turn away from his father for a moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did."

As far as Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson were concerned, poignant moments were probably not as often as they should have been under their particular circumstances. When such moments did occur they were often interrupted by one thing or another in their similarly busy lives.

The slight buzzing in their ears was a clear indication to the two men that this rich tradition would continue today.

"I do hope this is an emergency, Calculator," Bruce said in the gravely tenor of the Batman. "I believed I made it clear that we weren't to be interrupted."

"Well, you'll pardon me if you consider your shoddy attempt at drunken camaraderie to be vital," Noah replied without the least bit of apology, "but I believe that Lloyd and the others have gathered quite the promising lead in regards to our ever-evasive tattooed mystery men. I assumed that you would be interested in learning more."

* * *

Somewhat tired, quite beaten up and growing ever increasingly angry and concerned, Kara Zor-el assessed her situation.

Surrounding her were Brainiac and four of his robotic duplicates, a force with enough combined telekinetic energy to flash fry her nervous system if they hit her with a single, concentrated blast. Although the duplicates had proven to be not quite as sturdy as the genuine article the numbers game had proven more than sufficient enough to give the rogue scientist the advantage. Of course, her reconnaissance had been slightly rushed due to the fact that she had to perform this analysis while zipping about the cavern at blinding speeds so that neither the robotic duplicates nor the Coulan genuine article could get a bead on her.

"Your struggles are commendable but ultimately fruitless," Brainiac informed her in that even, superior-sounding voice that was quickly beginning to drive her up the wall. In fact, Kara was beginning to miss the sinister but melodic tone that the scientist had battered her with in order to draw her here. "If I cannot have you as a willing colleague then I will have to satisfy myself with your imminent death and dissection. Surely the benefits I can glean from extracting and examining your unique genetic material will be quite valuable."

That was it. Kara Zor-el had finally had enough. If she couldn't beat this tin-plated, Machiavellian wannabe her own way then she'd just have to borrow other people's methods.

She started her desperate offensive by aborting her anticipated flight plan with such suddenness that the entire cavern seemed to tremble at her velocity. She made a direct beeline for one of the duplicates, extending her arms forward in preparation of a full-out bull charge. Weathering the duplicate's individual telekinetic blast, Kara dodged the other four blasts by swerving once again and sliding behind the duplicate that she had charged at. The blasts battered the construct with such force that Kara had no trouble at all overwhelming the android's telekinetic shields and driving her arm into the android's back up to as far as her elbow.

She had turned a former opponent into a current shield. It was a trick that she had seen Lloyd perform about six months ago when rogue copies of Professor Magnus's Metal Men had attacked Gotham and something told Kara that Lloyd wouldn't mind at all if she borrowed it.

Now a great deal more protected from the near-constant attacks of her remaining pursuers, Kara resumed her evasive maneuvers, pushing herself around the room in a zig-zagging flight path. The skill she displayed in her dodging and deflections had been concocted and honed through hours of agility exercises where her objective had been to chase down a particularly obnoxious Green Lantern. The aerial acrobatics were designed to bring her closer to a pair of duplicates that had clustered together. The sturdy frame of her husk of a hostage was quite battered by the time she had finished her journey but it had provided her with enough protection to get in close and steal a page out of Batman's play book.

She tossed what was left of her shield into the duplicates with such force that her three opponents crashed into the wall in a tumble of sparks and metallic limbs. Kara chased them down as quickly as she could while firing a wide-spread wave of heat version from her eyes to hold them in place. Kara knew that the blast of energy was not intense enough to inflict any internal damage just as well as the duplicates and that fact was something she was counting on. The duplicates continued to fire at her from their awkward position but a combination of well-timed barrel roles and a smidgen of sheer luck keep Kara one step ahead of her attackers while she continued to pour on the heat.

During the war with the Society and the hectic melee at Wayne Manor, Kara had watched her all-too-human teacher take down a half-dozen of Dr. Darkk's robots with only a flamethrower and one of Mister Freeze's old ray guns. It was a feat that had amazed Kara even after the thrill of battle and evaded and Kara had convinced Batman and Nightwing to center their training sessions towards teaching her in a far different manner than her exercises with Lloyd and Stephanie.

Lloyd and Stephanie had taught her to use her speed, her skill and her instincts.

Batman and Nightwing had shown her how to fight with her brain.

She cut off her heat vision and immediately launched into a torrent of freezing breath. The combination of blistering heat and subsequent intense cold was enough to make the once sturdy frames of the three duplicates become significantly more fragile. As Kara flew through the frozen frames of the three duplicates, their bodies shattering and cracking from the impact, she was reminded of what her strength had truly become.

"Quite impressive," the genuine Brainiac said in his standard monotone. His lone remaining duplicate was at his side but was making no move to attack. "It appears that I have once again underestimated you. However, it is only a small matter. There is no doubt at all that you will be defeated."

"And just how are you going to pull that off?" Kara asked through gritted teeth. "Send more of your robot wannabes after me?"

**_No, that's not what I'll do at all_**.

Before Kara could fully register the return of that scalding voice in her mind, she was blasted in the back once again. A searing heat seemed to invade her entire body as the force of the flare sent her crashing into the already mangled computer equipment. Smoke rose from her back as she painfully rolled over to try and find the source of the unexpected assault.

However, all she could see was a portal.

It was a viscous, black-and-white gateway that seemed to pulse with the hatred of the monsters and criminals trapped within it. Kara recognized it almost instantly. After all, it was perhaps her Uncle Jor-el's greatest invention, a self-created pocket dimension where the Kryptonian government had sent unrepentant criminals who could not be rehabilitated and refused to reform. Of course, just because she knew a portal to the Phantom Zone when she saw one didn't mean that she had the slightest clue as to why it was here.

_And why I didn't notice it before_, Kara thought as she fought to clear the figurative cobwebs obscuring her vision. _How did that get here?_

But then a figure appeared in front of her and answered that question for her. He was an aged, hulk of a man whose body had become hardened and worn by years of agony and torture within a well-deserved hell. He was decked out from neck to toe in pitch-black and blood-red battle armor that outlined the old man's impressively muscular features. And when Kara looked up to see that wrinkled but prominent face and those sky blue eyes that had haunted her dreams, Kara knew that the voice that had tortured her did not belong to Brainiac at all.

Kara whispered the name of the monster who had done everything to break her, the man who every Kryptonian had come to know and silently fear.

"Zod."

Zod only smiled. It was a hideous picture that filled Kara with anger and fear and hatred.

"No. . . No. . . I'll kill you. . ." Kara whispered as she tried everything she could to get back to her feet.

Zod's smile didn't waver in the least.

"Now, now, little one. Is that any way to greet your grandfather?"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

All right, Shawn! All right! I know you're going to bash me for this plot twist but I couldn't resist it. Here's hoping the rest of you get something out of it and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Once again, feel free to review and tell me what's on your minds. Believe me, you guys definitely have an impact upon what I'm writing and I could use all the help I could get.

Now on a comics discussion note, although I'm not entirely approving of Brad Meltzer's take on the JLA (the inclusion of the Hall of Justice AND the Satellite just screams fan wanking) I have to give him mad props for apparently making Black Canary the JLA's chairwoman. With Powergirl taking over the reins in the JSA it appears that DC is making at least a cosmetic attempt to give its female characters a bit of respect (and coming from the company that literally invented the term "women in refrigerators", it's a gesture that's a long time coming).

Also, as one of the apparently few people who liked J. Micheal Stracynski's run on Amazing Spider-Man, I'm still of mixed emotions about him leaving the reins after 5 years. Say what you want about the whole Gwen Stacy/Norman Osborn/Sins Past debacle but at least JMS tried to present Peter Parker as I like him best, a somewhat disenchanted fellow who tries too hard to inject humor to make himself feel better through all the crap going on his life. Ah well, enough with the bellyaching and on to the next issue preview!

Issue #33 Preview

Okay! So now Brainiac AND Zod are after Kara. It certainly doesn't seem too good for our favorite quasi-teenage Kryptonian. Is there any chance that she can get out of this? And just what has Lloyd found that's got everybody up in a tizzy? Find out in the penultimate chapter of the _Nom de Guerre _arc: Family Reunions. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	33. Family Reunions

Issue #33

Family Reunions

Some people say you can see your life flash before your eyes just before you're about to die.

_WHOOM!_

Kara watched her mother take her gently by the hand and lead her down the glowing avenues of the capital. Her mother's gentle whispers and assurances encouraged her to match Alura's pace step-for-step, the pride of a happy daughter strengthening her stride. People were calling out to her mother with words of appreciation and gratitude, some of them even stepping forward and asking to be introduced to her wonderful daughter.

_KRACK! CRASH!_

The haze and near delirium brought about by the anesthetics and cryogenic agents pumping into her escape pod didn't prevent Kara from seeing the meteor of Kryptonite heading straight for her. She tried to scream as the tiny spacecraft was rocked by the impact but she discovered that she no longer had the energy to move her muscles and add sound to her scream. The realization that her father could no longer protect her and that she could not fulfill her father's dying wish caused water to build up within her panic-stricken eyes. This is where she was going to die.

Her grandfather's grip around the front of her face was so tight that the hairline scratch on her forehead began to expand and ooze out blood. The crimson liquid soon ran so quickly that by the time Zod had hefted her off the ground, the tiny stream of blood had already traveled down the bridge of her nose and ran onto her lips. The pain coursing through her skull, the blood on her lips, and the utter exhaustion in the rest of her body all combined to scream at her to give up, to give in to the pain.

Kara knew Zod wanted her to scream. She wouldn't scream, no matter what.

She gave off a terrible shriek as she impotently banged her fists against the unbreakable glass that her father had imprisoned her within. Noxious, green gas was leaking into the microscopic holes within her prison cell, her _test tube_. She tried to hold her breath but the foul vapor coursing around her forced her to inhale and open her body up to the poison. It was only moments before she felt her nasal cavities flaring, her throat threatening to close up, and her lungs beginning to corrode.

Kara tried desperately to marshal the strength to plead to her father to stop but she simply could not speak aloud. The neural connections between her brain and her lungs were already had already been destroyed.

_Please, daddy! Please! What did I do wrong? I won't do it again! Please don't hurt me!_

No, Kara couldn't quite voice the horrible misery she was experiencing. However, she could still hear what her family thought of them.

"Absolutely remarkable," her grandfather said as he impassively watched her pound away at the glass with progressively weaker blows and frantic slaps and scratches. "That amount of undiluted Kryptonite gas would have melted the skin and bones of nearly any other Kryptonian by now. And you're telling me that she will make a full recovery even after such a prolonged exposure?"

"Yes, father." Zor-el said excitedly while motioning towards one of the many monitor screens on his control panel. "And that's not all! Look at these readings. The initial inoculation momentarily weakened her internal organs and neurological functioning but, as you can see, her immune system is already working to overcome the damages. It is my hypothesis that she can continue to be exposed to Kryptonite without acquiring mortal injuries. Although she won't be able to recover fully until the gas is exhumed from her respiratory system, her accelerated healing factor will prevent her from sustaining permanent injury. I tell you she is a marvel to genetics and modern medicine."

"Indeed." Kara watched as her grandfather cast an indifferent, fleeting look at the medical report with one eye while keeping his other eye on her. "Still, it's quite obvious that your daughter is in a great deal of pain. I can't imagine she'll be too thrilled in engaging of anymore of your. . . examinations once this is over and done."

Her father laughed bitterly as if he couldn't believe that anyone could think that he didn't have everything under control. "Come now, father. How do you think I have managed to discover the findings I have already accumulated? This is hardly the first time I have tested my darling daughter's sensibilities."

"Is that right?" Zod asked curiously. "She hardly looks like a very willing subject to me."

"I would most certainly agree," Zor-el replied. "Of course, it is only a small matter to coerce my dear Kara into convincing her to forget everything that goes on here. Nothing too extravagant, really; I simply apply a mixture of ultrasonics, a smattering of fractured light bursts and some simple hypnotic suggestion."

"I see," Zod replied neutrally. "And is this same manner you use to convince your dear wife that this young girl is her daughter?"

"Of course it is," her father replied testily. "After all, it is a rule of every great scientific breakthrough that with each revelation there must also come a sacrifice."

The sharp burst of anger brought about by those twice-buried memories gave Kara the strength she needs to shake herself free of her grandfather's unorthodox hold. However, her right leg could not quite yet support her weight and she landed in an awkward thump on the icy floor.

"How?" Kara asked in a nearly breathless murmur as she struggled to convince air to flow through her lungs. "Jor-el sent you to the Phantom Zone! How could you have possibly gotten out?"

"Permit me to answer that inquiry."

Kara weakly swiped at the blood and sweat that had accumulated on her forehead as Brainiac lowered himself down to stand at her grandfather's side. Zod only spared the android the slightest glance while Brainiac's heavy feet found solid ground.

"Admittedly, Jor-el was quite ingenious in his creation of a pocket dimension that can only be opened from the outside." Brainiac explained in his usual detached, monotone manner. "However, even the sturdiest lock can be broken if you possess the combination. The gateway to what you call the Phantom Zone is nothing more than a spectral gateway created through a combination of specific harmonic and light frequencies. It was only a matter of discovering the correct code and focusing upon finding the portion of the dimension where your grandfather's molecular makeup had been stored."

Brainiac turned towards Zod. "Sir, I feel compelled to remind you of our previous agreement. If we were unable to convince your granddaughter to aid us in our intentions, which we were, then I would be allowed to examine Miss Zor-el's corpse. It would be most beneficial to my future research if your granddaughter were disposed of in a far neater manner then what you obviously have intended for her."

"There's absolutely no need for you to be concerned with your latest test subject, Coulan," Zod replied while keeping his eyes entirely upon Kara. "You'll get your test subject. It's just been so long since I've managed to have any quality time with what little is left of my family. I just simply couldn't resist taking the opportunity to reacquaint myself."

Kara shivered as her grandfather bent down on one knee to take a closer look at her. He brought one of his large, weathered hands towards her scalp, perhaps to sweep back some of the hair that had gathered onto her forehead, but Kara managed to pull herself away.

Zod sighed wearily. "Dear, sweet Kara; why do you shirk away from my touch? How long has it been since I've been able to gaze into your hate-ridden eyes?"

"Not nearly long enough, monster," Kara spat out.

Zod's smarmy smile turned into a monstrous sneer in the blink of an eye. He darted his hand out and wrapped his long, wrinkled fingers around his granddaughter's hair and yanked her forward. He glanced at Kara's gritted teeth and replied with an equally feral grin.

"See, Coulan?" Zod asked as he dragged Kara back to her feet. "This is the problem with this new generation; no respect for their elders. Not only that but they don't even have the discipline to follow their family's wishes."

"I was never family to you!" Kara shouted back. "I was nothing but a test subject, some great weapon that you could aim and fire at anybody that had angered you!"

Zod's laughter was almost a startled bark of emotion. "Oh, my darling granddaughter. Don't you understand? I held the same affection for you that I felt for my only son. He was to provide me with what I would require to cull the weak and allow Krypton to remain the greatest society in all of recorded history. You were going to be my greatest weapon. You were to be the face and the power that would symbolize our people after I had passed on. You were supposed to be the future, not that simpering Kal-El!"

Kara felt her abdomen caving in as Zod slammed his free hand into her gut. The pain was intense but a small buzzing sound in her ears allowed her to blot out the pain and cause her to chuckle.

Her grandfather seemed to find this response to be equally amusing. "And what brings this burst of merriment on?"

Kara gave her grandfather a merry smile despite the blood in her teeth. "Nothing major, grandpa. I'm just really happy you're about to meet the rest of my family."

Kara's words were punctuated by a deafening crash and a human rocket surrounded by green. Gigantic shards of ice and crystal came plummeting to the floor as the chaos from Stephanie Brown's unique entrance turned the few, intact parts of Brainiac's once pristine laboratory into a twisted mess of volatile sparks and ruined machinery. Seeing that she had acquired the attention of the people that she had judged to be her foes, the artiste of the destruction willed her ring to transform her standard Robin attire into that of a police officer complete with a spectral green hat. Another flash of energy produced a bullhorn that the young heroine quickly brought to her lips with a chuckle.

"Gentlemen, I have been sent here to respond to reports of attempts to take over the world and the illegal tearing off of mattress tags," Stephanie informed Brainiac and Zod in an authoritative voice that was magnified to absurd portions by her amplifier. "I'm gonna have to ask you to vacate the premises in five seconds time or you will have your secret base destroyed and every molecule of your asses kicked."

The merry grin on Stephanie's face quickly gave way to a nasty smirk. "Of course, it did take me twelve seconds to say that. . ."

Brainiac's behests to cease and desist were put upon deaf ears as Stephanie pointed her ring above her head. Her right hand was enveloped with green flame as an enormous blast from the ring burned away the heavy ice of the glacier as if it were nothing at all. The enraged Coulan was quick to attempt to avenge the destruction of his base of operations and silently charged the airborne Green Lantern. However, his path was blocked and then forced backward by a blur of black that sent him crashing into one of the few devices that either Kara and Stephanie didn't already destroy.

"Brainiac, I presume," grumbled a raspy, West London drawl. "Give my regards to the missiles."

The android had no time to reply as a half-dozen Hellfire missiles collided and exploded on and around him. Though the damage was severe and the vast majority of his systems were working to repair the damage, Brainiac was able to employ his sensors to indicate the source of his attacker as a sleek fighter plane. The battle vehicle was a state-of-the-art piece of machinery that sported engines so quiet that they were almost undetectable to even his enhanced senses and was painted with such a dark shade of blue that the contrasting white of the ice and the clear blue of the tall skies made it look as black as death.

"You have two options, Vril Dox," Batman informed the android from within the cockpit of the Batplane. "Surrender or be turned to scrap."

"Either way," Lloyd added as he teleported to Zod's back and hammered the alien with a kick to the lower back that sent the former military director hurtling away from Kara. "We're getting everything we came for."

Kara tried her best not to look too grateful as Lloyd offered her a hand to get back up to her feet. She had equally difficult battles swallowing her pride, accepting the unnecessary gesture, and fighting back the tingling she felt when Lloyd's fingers brushed against the small of her back.

"You alright, luv?" Lloyd asked, his voice just a bit hoarser than his usual verbal fare.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Kara replied. "How did you guys find me?"

"Stroke of luck really," Lloyd said as he fired an energy blast to knock the advancing Zod back down again. "We found a tat on one of the blokes we picked up on a raid we put on in Beijing. I thought it might have been some earlier version of Kryptonian lettering and Bats did a bit of follow up on it and recognized the marking as something similar to what he saw in your cousin's old base. It was all just a matter of following the energy patterns after that."

Any further attempts of explanation were interrupted when Zod assaulted the both of them with an immense blast of heat vision that Lloyd managed to ward off with a blast of his own.

"Who the bloody hell is this, anyway?" Lloyd asked loudly as the two colliding blasts pushed and warred against each other. "And why isn't he staying down after I hit him?"

"He's my grandfather," Kara replied calmly as she fired her own blast of red flame from her eyes that crashed into Zod's chest. "And he's mine, by the way."

It took a moment for Lloyd to bat down the surprise he felt from his partner's revelation and turn it into what he hoped to be a suave, upraised eyebrow. "Who said I'm stoppin' ya?"

Kara bent her neck from side to side as she rose off the ground. Her pupils were bright red despite the fact that her heat vision had long-since abated.

"Just checking to make sure," Kara said menacingly as she rocketed off to intercept her prey.

* * *

"Foolish Terran," Brainiac said calmly. "Did you think me so defenseless that your insignificant talents of energy manipulation would be enough to destroy me?"

"I kinda thought so," Stephanie replied cheerily as she continued to trade fire with the Coulan scientist and the four robotic duplicates that Brainiac just happened to have in reserve. _Just what is it with mad scientists creating duplicates of themselves_, she thought with a hint of nervousness as the force of the telekinetic blasts she couldn't manage to dodge threatened to perforate her force bubble. _Is it too much to ask to do what everybody else does and place a want ad in the paper? Wanted: assistant for budding megalomaniacal fuckwit with ambitions for global domination. Willingness to blindly take orders a requirement with potential hiring bonuses for eager, bloodthirsty candidates._

Robin's increasingly gloomy ruminations were cut off by a sheer stream of electrical energy that surrounded Brainiac and his automated facsimiles and gave her a bit of slightly necessary bit of breathing room.

"S'up, brah," Stephanie said without sparing a glance at Lloyd as he materialized at her side. "Kara doing all right?"

"She's a bit knackered but she says it's nothin' she can't handle," Lloyd said as he withdrew his saber from the scabbard strapped to his back. "Still, we'd be wise to finish this up quickly. No use riskin' her goin' up against someone that strong on her own."

"Couldn't agree with you more," Robin replied shortly before another set of missiles from the Batplane collided into the horde of androids and turned one of the duplicates into a headless pile of slag. "Well, that's good! That makes two for the both of us! Still, who is that mysterious masked man firing those ballistics? I feel like I've met him before. . ."

"I think I have too, pet. Y'know, it could be that gloomy, old bastard that kept grumbling and orderin' us about."

"Nah," Stephanie said as she cupped her chin with her left hand while she fired a blast of energy with her ring. "We haven't seen that popcorn fart in months. Of course, it'd be just like him to just show up and horn in on one of our operations."

Batman waited until he deployed the hatch below the pilot seat of his Batplane and grappled down to the ground before responding to his scurrilous partners. "I would have hoped that one of you would have killed the other one by now," he said menacingly as he dipped into his figurative bag of tricks and fired a sizeable array of small explosives at the already beleaguered Brainiacs.

"Yeah, we were kind of surprised about it ourselves," Lloyd replied as he fired an energy blast in order to add his own contribution to the commotion. "Don't you think you would have been safer off in the Batplane?"

Batman's reply came when Brainiac and his remaining duplicates staved off the team's combined offensive and turned their attention to the Batplane. The craft's automated systems were already preparing another salvo of missile fire when a trio of telekinetic blasts punched through its armor and pierced the engine and quite a few of the fuel lines. The subsequent explosions sent a small army of blue and black bits of shrapnel and a phenomenally charred bit of pilot seat crashing to the cave floor.

"I never lost this many vehicles before you people showed up," Batman grumbled.

"Right then," Lloyd said as he wisely chose not to respond to Batman's depressingly true statement. "Robin, you keep close to Bats and work on providin' cover fire. I'll start pickin' these sprocket boys off."

"We don't have time for that. Cover me." Batman said as he rushed into the fray.

Lloyd and Stephanie didn't have the time to argue or be alarmed. Instead, they decided to try something new and do what they were told, beating back the duplicates with a precise combination of energy blasts and force fields while the Dark Knight continued to advance towards the genuine article with a concentrated rush across the icy floor.

Batman's inspired acrobatics enabled him to dodge the telekinetic blasts that the Coulan scientist threw at him while the combined strength of the telepathic dampeners within his cowl and Lloyd's mental shielding warded off Brainiac's attempts to manipulate his mind. The detective waited until he was twenty yards away before he threw a small sphere at Brainiac's feet. The device, a bit of weaponry inspired by Michael Holt's T-spheres, emitted a concentrated electromagnetic pulse that was enough to penetrate Brainiac's faltering mechanical defenses and bring the despot to his knees. His path now relatively free, Batman poured on the speed and continued to advance forward until he was able to perform a flawless front somersault that placed him at Brainiac's back.

"Sword!" Batman roared over the noise of the battle around him.

The hilt of Lloyd's blade fell squarely into the extended right hand of the Dark Knight. Taking the saber into both of his hands, he put all his force into a ferocious slash that ran Brainiac through the tip of his left shoulder, cut across his chest, and bottomed out after slicing through the right side of the android's abdomen. A tight spin and a roar brought the blade to bear once again. Twisting his wrists to bring the hilt of the blade to the center of his torso, Batman thrust the magic-imbued blade right between Brainiac's eyes. He took only the slightest amount of satisfaction watching his opponent fall before tossing the saber back into the waiting hands of its owner and turning his attention to all that was left around him.

* * *

To the eyes of an ordinary human, the battle between Kara Zor-el and Dru-Zod would have looked like a recording of a fight scene played in fast forward. The speed and the ferocity of the combat produced sonic booms that erupted and trembled the earth around them as bone, muscle, and sinew crashed into one another with furious abandon. There would be an occasional glimpse of a scarlet red beam or a stream of arctic air but these sights were easily lost and even more easily forgotten upon this battlefield.

"Did you think that a few trifling blasts of energy from that lowly half-breed would bring me down to your level?" Zod asked his granddaughter with a sneer on his face while continuing to dodge and deflect Kara's attacks by the mere fraction of a few inches or milliseconds. "You may have become a great warrior with enough time and training but now you're nothing but a pup! You don't have what it takes to best me!"

The frustration that Kara felt from Zod's arrogant declarations enraged her and caused her to attack with even greater strength, speed, and intensity. However, that intensity turned out to do her a great deal more harm than good. Her rage only led to her attacks becoming sloppier and far easier to read for the experienced tactician. It was only a matter of parrying just the right attack for Zod to slip underneath his granddaughter's defenses and pummel her with a series of sharp punches to the body that sent Kara down to her knees gasping for air.

"Appreciate your superior, stripling," Zod said cruelly as he struck Kara squarely across the chin with his boot. The kick was a calculated lash, a measure that he was rather fond of doing to remind his quarry of who would be left standing when all was said and done. He gave off a bloodthirsty grin as he watched the blood dripping off the edge of Kara's chin, the metal edging of his boots having cut and dug into his granddaughter's chin and lower lip.

The thought of surrendering no longer bothered to approach Kara's attention and she was quick to get back to her feet. Though she was noticeably worse for wear than before the exchange, she'd be damned if she was going to let that show any more than it already was.

"I'll appreciate them when they finally show up," Kara answered defiantly.

Zod gave off a terrible laugh. Kara recognized that laugh. It was the same mocking gesture that always seemed to bubble from her grandfather's lips whenever she chose to defy him, whether it was within her father's laboratories or within her own conflicted dreams. Once again she was tempted to give into the anger that threatened to invade her senses but still she kept her emotions in check.

Zod was not quite finished stoking the fire. "Quite the ego you've worked up in your many months fighting so-called villains while remaining a big fish within so little of an ocean. Do you have any other inspiring phrases to assault me with before I rip you asunder?"

_THUNK!_

Pause.

Zod slowly twisted his neck to see the glue arrow lodged in his lower back. Deciding that it wasn't worthy of him to bother wasting a proper look at his newest attacker, he kept both eyes on Kara and spoke his thoughts to anyone able to listen.

"Tell me, young lady. Did you actually believe that you could harm me in the least with your primordial choice in weaponry?"

Arrowette just kept on smiling. "Just wait. There's a wonderful prize inside that specially marked package."

The amount of time that elapsed between when the archer finished what she was saying and when that surprise was revealed was about a fortieth of a second. It took Kara half of that fraction of time to use her x-ray vision, look through her grandfather's body, and see the lead lining around the modified tip of Cissie's arrow. Another tenth of a second was spent in getting away from what she knew was about to happen, thus leaving her ample opportunity to enjoy just what was going to happen next.

Zod howled in agony as he was enveloped in a green, chemical flame that seared through his battle armor and threatened to soak into his skin and muscle. His temples bulged as he worked to overcome the indescribable pain and keep himself upright while his thick knees threaten to buckle and send him tumbling to the ground. It was a testament to the former general's strength of will that he managed to marshal the resolve to bite back the pain inflicted upon him by the liquid kryptonite and stare at the source of his unexpected agony.

"YOU FILTHY, CONNIVING LITTLE WHORE!" Zod screamed as he fired an intense blast of heat vision at the young archer.

Cissie had just enough time to widen her eyes at the blazing energy coming her way but not nearly enough time to do anything could avoid it.

_WHOOSH!_

Kara was just a little bit faster than that. She yanked Arrowette out of the line of fire, placed her down as gently as she could under the circumstances, and then turned and made a beeline for Zod. She felt her strength and vigor begin to dwindle from the potent radiation as she closed in but the satisfaction that came from landing a solid left hook on her grandfather's jaw was more than enough to overcome it.

"That's for hurting me!"

Kara bent her leg back before scoring another direct hit with the ball of her left foot squarely striking Zod's right kneecap.

"That's for trying to hurt my friends!"

The last daughter of Krypton capped off her focused assault with a double axe-handle that landed squarely upon the bridge of Zod's skull and sent the warhorse down to the ground face first. As Zod groaned in pain, his eyes blazing in anger and indignation, Kara took a moment to calm herself down and revert her eyes to their normal sapphire hue.

"And that's for thinking that you'll ever be able to hurt me or anyone else ever again!"

It was a calm declaration rather than the threat of an enraged, young woman. Kara decided that she wasn't going to let her family get the better of her. Not now and not ever again.

The combination of Kara and Lloyd's attacks and the causticity of the kryptonite should have been enough to bring down almost anyone. Of course, Zod was most certainly not just anyone. Though his arms and legs were quivering with exhaustion, he began to rise back up to his feet once again. Just as his granddaughter refused to let him get the better of her, he simply could not consider the possibility that Kara could get the better of him.

"Don't think of this as a precursor to some great triumph or victory. This is nothing more than a lucky break. I won't let you win. You're not capable of being better than me."

"That's all right. We're more than happy to help her beat you."

Kara looked up to see Lloyd, Stephanie, and The Batman standing just behind her grandfather. None of them looked the worse for wear and there didn't appear to be a single functioning Brainiac in sight. It was a picture that warmed away any chill that the kryptonite could inflict upon her and she looked down on Zod with a wicked smile.

"This is usually the time when the brave hero says that they don't need any help and they can finish it on their own," Kara pointed out unnecessarily. "Unfortunately for you, grandpa, I'm not feeling that brave right now."

Kara leapt aside as Batman assaulted Zod with a barrage of sonic grenades that caused the old man to shriek in pain. She smiled when Cissie fired another glue arrow that coated Zod's entire face with epoxy and that grin grew even wider when Stephanie came in low with a kick to the groin so swift and strong that it sent him flying into the air. She had to hide a whoop of excitement when Lloyd met Zod in the middle of his flight and sent him careening her way with a powerful, left hook and the rush of satisfaction she felt when she caught the bastard with a back swipe of her right hand was nothing short of short of liberation.

Zod crashed into Brainiac's podium with an impact that shook his increasingly brittle bones. Stumbling back to his feet amidst the dust of smashed Kryptonese crystal, his mind was already racing with possible countermeasures and plots for revenge against the indignity that he was suffering at the hands of these Terrans and his mutinous spawn. However, another scorching sensation was soon coursing through his body and those machinations were brushed aside in the miasma of his own misery.

"Hi there," Nightwing said merrily while making no efforts to conceal the loop of metal and kryptonite crystal wrapped around his right ring finger. He had been lying in wait to finish the other half of his job and was more than eager to get on with it. "A little birdie told me you'd be pretty bothered if I showed this off to you. That birdie also showed me where I could find this thing."

The Batman's very first junior partner bent down to pick up the bizarre device that he had placed at his feet. It looked vaguely like a portable spotlight and the sheer bulk of the device was enough so that Nightwing had to put a significant deal of effort into jostling it within his arms before being able to point it at the incapacitated criminal. "Now I'm thinking that Brainiac was probably keeping this thing around in case you got a little out of hand but I'm not really sure."

Dick flipped a series of switches at the base of the device and smiled with satisfaction as the device's engine began to hum. The hum had the exact opposite effect on Zod, who was struck with both the realization of what the device was designed to do and the fact that the beating he had endured and the effects of the kryptonite left him incapable of stopping it.

"Would you mind if I tested it out?" Nightwing asked.

Zod screamed in unabashed horror as his body was enveloped within the viscous, gray energy that had haunted his nightmares for decades that seemed to stretch into eternity. His own heightened senses allowed him to _feel _his very molecules separating as the unique properties of Kal-El's Phantom Zone Generator began its phenomenal task of restructuring the Kryptonian's genetic material and sending him off into nothingness once again.

"Yeah, that's right," Nightwing taunted after the portal had been closed and the dissonant roar of the Phantom Zone faded away. "Kneel before Nightwing!"

Dick looked up to see the bemused and confused faces of his cohorts and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know why but I just felt like I _had _to say that!"

* * *

"You know, this really is a beautiful place," Robin remarked while casting her gaze over the unpolluted beauty of the snowfields of Central Antarctica.

"Yes. Very soothing. Very unlike Gotham." Lloyd agreed. "We should stop by here sometime when we're not trying to save the world."

"Or when we're not trying to save our thick-headed friends from getting their heads caved in," Nightwing thought to throw in.

"Also true," said Robin.

"I'm gonna have to apologize about this for the next fifty-two weeks, aren't I?" Kara asked as she nervously scratched the back of her head.

"No way. Six months. Tops." Nightwing said before edging towards the guilty Kryptonian and giving her a friendly bop on the shoulder.

"And bear in mind that using those doe eyes of yours to convince Alfred into making chocolate-chip pancakes for us will go a great deal towards reducing your sentence," Arrowette added.

"Ah, look on the bright side, Zor-el," Lloyd said casually. "If it wasn't for your Teen Titan-like blind charge into a dangerous situation then we never would have been able to find Brainiac, your grandpop, or be able to break up whatever little plan for global domination they had cookin' up."

Nightwing gave Lloyd quite the cross look. "Why a _Teen Titan-like _charge? Can't any of you go five minutes without that potshot? What? The Justice League isn't capable of falling into a trap? What about that time with Prometheus in the Watchtower? They had to be saved by Catwoman, for crying out loud!"

"Thanks, guys. This is making me feel a lot better." Kara said flatly.

"If the shoe fits, Richie," Lloyd said with a wicked grin.

"I'm with Lloyd on this one," Stephanie said not surprisingly. "Although I probably should take points off for going for such an easy joke. It's just too easy to make fun of the Titans."

"Well, that being said," Kara interposed once again while leaving Dick to be angrily mumble on about Trigon and all the times Batman had been hypnotized by Starro. "Thanks for the helping hand."

"It behooves me to point out that it is quite likely that we would have eventually determined Brainiac and Zod's location if we were allowed to trace the many telepathic entreaties that the two of them had made in their efforts to recruit Kara into their machinations. However, given that Miss Zor-el chose not to better inform us of these requests and threats, it is not entirely outside the realm of possibility that we still would have been caught unawares."

Arrowette and Black Dog couldn't help but laugh as Kara's thin veil of cheeriness shattered and their young friend slumped back down into a forgivable display of amiable guilt.

"I need to go find a nice volcano I can dig my way into." Kara groaned piteously.

"Buck up, Kare Bear," Robin said in a way that made it sound more like an order than a friendly request. "And you're getting a smack in the head for that dime store deduction when I get back to the manor, Kuttler!"

"Well, you will pardon me if I am not quivering in terror but you have a long standing history of making threats that you are incapable of carrying out, Robin." The Calculator seemed to be quite comfortable with jeering at the perturbed young woman from his vantage point of nearly half a world away. "And to be brutally frank, I believe that I should be receiving thanks from the lot of you. You would have had to deal with every internationally-sanctioned military unit superpowered or otherwise if it wasn't for my satellite scramblers."

"You did well, Calculator," Batman said with only the slightest trace of appreciation. "Disconnect the scramblers and make sure there isn't any lasting damage to the tampered satellites. We'll return to base promptly."

"Very well. Calculator out."

"Sheesh, B," Stephanie said with a hint of irritation. "We're not even going to take a couple minutes more to enjoy the sights? I thought we did good!"

"Well, he's never been much for post-failed apocalypse banter," Nightwing pointed out. "That's part of the reason he kept me around all those years."

Batman ignored the baiting remarks and kept his eyes squarely upon Kara as he moved towards her in broad strides. Quite conversely, Kara shrunk back with each of the man's steps, the guilt of her hastiness and her niggling fear of the detective's presence causing her worry and paranoia to ratchet higher and higher. Ultimately, Bruce's healthy pace allowed him to catch up with the young woman and her nervous and imprecise backward shuffles and the two of them were soon face-to-face. Reaching into a pouch within his utility belt, Batman fished out a computer chip that was as thin as a sheet of copier paper and no longer than his thumb.

"This is the only remaining functional part of Brainiac that I could manage to find in the laboratory. Something tells me you have a right to it."

Batman placed the chip into the palm of his hand and extended that gauntlet-covered hand to Kara. Momentarily taken aback, it took Kara a moment to process what the detective was saying and what he was offering her to do. Once she had, she slowly plucked the chip from its resting place and placed it between her right thumb and ring finger. She held it up to the warm sunlight and watched the light shine off the chip's surface.

Then her eyes narrowed, her brows knitted.

Then she tore the microchip into two.

Then she tore those pieces into two.

Then she chucked the tiny pieces to the ground.

Then she froze those bits with the strongest dose of arctic breath that she could muster.

Then she liquefied whatever few crumbs that were remaining with her heat vision.

Then, just to make sure, she stomped so hard onto the relative part of the ground where she threw down the bits of microprocessor that large cracks began to appear in the earth and ice.

Then she looked up to her family.

"Okay. I feel better now."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

First of all, let me apologize once again for the time between chapters. I may be a busy boy but that doesn't excuse me from leaving my dozens of loyal readers in the lurch. With summer coming I should be able to devote some more time to this and I hope I can keep up with the quality of literature that I've been managing to pound out since I started with the second book (which isn't much, I know, but it's still an attainable goal).

On another note, I've officially decided that 95 percent of the characters in DC and Marvel Comics would do well with if they were given a good dosage of Zoloft with their morning coffee. Of course, in more extreme cases (and I'm looking at you here Mr. Drake and Mr. Parker) I would most likely recommend some liberal amounts of lithium carbonate. Yeah, there are still some bright spots to be had in comics today but for every Dan Slott and Gail Simone there seems to be ten Brian Michael Bendises or Judd Winicks who just seem determined to wring out every bit of angst and depression from their characters that they can. And don't get me wrong, I usually _like _the writing styles of every writer I just mentioned but I've already got enough depressing stuff in my own life to deal with. I don't need another source of continuous helping of depressing diatribes. I've got my friends for that.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the next chapter preview! Fun times! Yeah!

Issue #34 Preview

Well, just cause the battle is over and the good guys won don't mean that everything is hunky dory. Cissie's got an appointment at a cemetery, Kara's still got a lot to think about, and Dick and Noah still have to have an important talk. Still, I think everything will be all right. After all, it'd be pretty hypocritical of me if I came out with a depressing chapter right after making a diatribe against writing about depressed people. Face forward, true believer, and stay tuned for the next chapter in The Misfits: Another Bucketload of Epiphanies. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	34. Another Bucketload of Epiphanies

Issue #34

Another Bucketload of Epiphanies

_San Francisco_

Cissie settled down onto the well-tailored grass, finding a nice groove of dirt and grass to sit in while she placed the gift that she had gotten for her friend down next to her. She didn't bother to wear anything fancy to this reunion, just a t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans that had already went through a bit of wear and tear.

She knew that he wouldn't disapprove of the wardrobe choice. He was never a big fan of expensive clothes outside of that tacky leather jacket of his. The only well-tailored getup that he ever wanted to see her in was her school uniform and she hadn't worn that in months. Besides, she wouldn't wear that in front of him even if she still had it. There was no need to give him the satisfaction of being able to fire off one of his seemingly endless array of Catholic schoolgirl jokes that he always seemed to have ready for her.

"Hey, buddy. Sorry I didn't drop by sooner. I know I probably should have been here when you got here but I figured that you had enough people bugging you at the time."

The former member of Young Justice turned around and unzipped her knapsack. Pulling out a wrinkled front page of a newspaper, she turned to face her friend once again and showed him the headline.

_Honor For A Fallen Hero: Superboy Funeral draws thousands of mourners._

Cecilia turned the paper around and read the headline herself. She gave the words and the paper it was written on a derisive snort before carefully folding the paper and placing it back into its former confines.

"I still can't believe you didn't just bust out of here right then and there. After all, you always did love an adoring crowd." She sighed and shook her head. "And lord knows you had their undivided attention that day."

Arrowette took a moment to examine all the flowers and plants surrounding the memorial. Roses, honeysuckle, jasmine, poppies, and rosemary.

He always said he hated flowers. He said the scents played havoc on his senses. Cissie reminded herself to ask Kara about what she thought about flowers the next time she spoke with her.

"Yeah, and I know that I've had plenty of time to drop by since then but there's been a lot going on. Whatever little connection my mom and I still had has been flushed down the crapper, I dropped out of Elias, and I've moved across the country. I. . . I know that's not much of an excuse but. . ."

The archer was distracted by the jovial call of a bird perched on top of a tree across from the headstone. She took a moment to examine the cheery caroler and its bright under feathers and tried not to choke on the irony.

"All right, all right," she told the bird. "I know I'm stalling but that doesn't mean you can just sit there and heckle me."

The robin locked eyes with her for a moment before flying off. Cecilia watched the bird fly off to the east while she sorted the many loose thoughts rattling around in her brain.

Deep breath. _All right, girl, attempt number two. Let's make this one better than the last one._

"I'm still not sure if I liked you or not. I mean. . . I _tolerated _you because you were Cassie's boyfriend but there was always that little voice in the back of my head that kept telling me that it wouldn't be long before some vapid, little hottie would catch your eye and you and your super-hormones would leave my best friend out in the cold. And it wasn't like you didn't give me any reason not to think that! You were always trying to flirt with me and every other female you could lay your eyes on and that fantasy that you shared with Tim and me about you, Starfire, Raven, and Cassie in the hot tub still makes for a good appetite suppressant."

Cissie cast her eyes down to the fresh grass while feeling unbelievingly awkward. After all, it wasn't as if she had a tough time talking to him before. Yes, the conversation would be all pathetic pick-up lines or ill-tempered squabbling but at least they were able to communicate.

"But you know what it was about you that pissed me off the most? The fact that you always somehow managed to find a way to prove me wrong and prove me right at the same time! You loved Cassie with all your heart but you still ended up leaving her because you had to go be a hero!"

The words were harsh but the tone was soft and shaky and Cissie couldn't help but be a bit annoyed by the involuntary pitch. He always did find a way to break through her defenses.

"And you were right about the fact that there was another reason why I quit Young Justice but you were wrong about what that reason was. It wasn't just because I thought I'd kill somebody. It was because I knew that if I kept fighting then somebody I cared about was going to get killed. Someday, Bart or Cassie or Tim would make the wrong move or decide to make some great sacrifice and then I'd be standing over their grave. I never thought it would be you."

Cissie groaned again, her hands rubbing against the sides of her head in an unconscious attempt to soothe herself. Finally deciding that she was never going to figure out the right thing to say, she pulled herself back up to her feet and took one last look at her friend's grave.

"So, yeah, I'm fighting crime again. Sorry if I didn't mention that earlier. In fact, I'm working in Gotham! With Batman, no less!"

Cissie found that realization to be pretty funny and she started laughing. "And I've got you to thank for it! Apparently some masochistic part of me figures that I should be doing your share now that you're gone. Isn't that a trip?!" She twisted her fingers into the grass she was sitting next to. Just like her laughter, it was just an activity designed to keep her away from doing what she didn't want to do.

"So apparently it's become one of my life's ambitions to catch up with you in the Young Justice superhero brownie points competition. I know I probably don't have a shot in hell at winning but a nice guy once told me that there's always room in your life to do something stupid."

It took her a bit longer than she would have liked to blink back the tears that were threatening to break loose but she made sure to take her time. Heaven only knows the amount of ribbing he'd give her if she started blubbering now.

"By the way, that nice guy is you. I figured I should tell you that because you never were the sharpest dart on the board."

* * *

_The Batcave_

"I must say, sir. The transformation you have undertaken over the past year is certainly extraordinary. No longer are you the socially stunted, middle-aged man that once darkened this dismal little hole in the ground."

Batman attempted to drown out his butler's not-so-gentle ribbings with an intense storm of taps upon his keyboard.

"Dashing down here with nary the slightest whit of a hello or greetings to those who care about you and have labored in your stead. Embroiling yourself within your work while ignoring the pittance of social responsibilities that your friends and loved ones have placed upon you. I can scarcely say I recognize you, Master Bruce."

The Dark Knight ceased his fruitless attempts to ignore his heckler and turned to the Englishman with a huff. "I was hoping that you would have had the time to learn how to sheathe your spoon-sharp wit while I was absent."

Alfred Pennyworth wasn't the least bit turned back by his charge's verbal body blow. "I find your critique of my sense of humor to be quite unjustified, Master Bruce. The other denizens of this household have expressed great appreciation towards my pithy remarks. I must say that the sense of elation that comes from finally being appreciated for a job well done has done wonders for my self-image."

"You know, I've recently had the pleasure of reading a wonderful article in the _Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology _that dealt with the psychology of young adults with tenuous upbringings. It appears that they can be easily draw in by someone who willingly provides them with such things as warm food and clean clothing. Conversely, these providers often provide these services may claim a desire to genuinely assist others in need while unconsciously attempting to either grow a base of support against some supposed rival or to cement their own fragile sense of self."

"It appears that you've managed to discover quite the treasure trove of psychoanalytical possibilities in your absence," Alfred replied while looking suitably impressed. "Is there any possibility that you were able to locate some correlative studies within the area of service provision psychology? Perhaps in regards to how the concept translates into the lives of masked vigilantes?"

Batman fixed his oldest associate with the fiercest look he could provide. "I missed this. Dick could hold his own every now and again but then he'd get frustrated and go for cheap jokes and profanity."

"As have I, Master Bruce. Master Lloyd and Miss Stephanie would resort to similar tactics and it's become rather clear to me that Master Noah doesn't quite have the stomach for it."

Bruce broke into a grin as he rose to his feet and approached the older man. Alfred was more than happy to respond with a similar smile and a hearty embrace. As was their way, the two of them each held the gesture just long enough to know that it was genuine but well before it got too emotional. After all, both of these distinguished gentlemen believed that there was enough unnecessary clamor and noise within this household, thank you very much.

The quasi-paternal gesture was also interrupted with the sound of bare feet sliding down the smooth, stone steps connecting the cave to the manner. There was a reprimand upon Alfred's tongue, some statement relating to the imprudence of traversing these chilly confines without proper footwear. However, the old man considered who he would be addressing and found the possible gesture to be unnecessary.

"Good evening, Miss Kara. You look remarkably well given the sorry state you were in when Master Lloyd and Miss Stephanie brought you in. It appears my concerns of whether or not you required extensive medical care were unnecessary."

The young woman at least had the sense to look sheepish under the well-deserved scrutiny. "I'm sorry for worrying the both of you. Just how long have I been sleeping?"

"Just a shade over fifteen hours, Miss Kara," Alfred replied while making his own way to the steps. "Fortunately, you've managed to awaken yourself before suppertime. I had been hoping to coerce Master Bruce into attending but it appears that my efforts have failed. Perhaps you will have better luck."

"Oh! Um, okay." Kara said as Alfred made his way past her. "I, well, I guess I'll try that."

Alfred didn't even bother to turn around as he made his way out. "Your efforts are truly appreciated."

Bruce and Kara both watched the hidden entrance to the Batcave slide shut. At the same time, the two of them worked through the laundry list of points of discussion that they could bring to the table. Quite unexpectedly for the both of them, it was Batman that eventually spoke first.

"You look to be fully recovered. Are you suffering from any lingering pain from your injuries?"

Kara shook her head. Indeed, the combination of her alien body chemistry and many hours of undisturbed sleep had succeeded in making her hale and hearty once again. The hairline cracks in her lower ribs had knit themselves back together, her separated shoulder had been reset and her previously broken nose appeared to be untouched.

"Yep, I'm all fixed up. Alfred sure did a good job of cleaning me up."

"Alfred didn't have a thing to do with it," Batman replied. "You'll have to thank Stephanie for that."

Kara's blue eyes widened to near-comical proportions. "_Stephanie_?! You left her in charge of my well-being?"

"She's perfectly qualified," Batman calmly replied. "Besides, it seemed like a suitable punishment."

Bruce watched as the young woman's shortly lived good humor dissipated. He knew Kara well enough to know that she was already beginning to break into a long and shaky apology. He rushed to cut her off for while trying not to think too much about why he chose to do so.

"There's no need for you to apologize any further. It's safe to say that you have learned the price of dashing into unknown situations. What's important is that you don't let what happened today cloud the fact that you've done a lot of good work even if what you've done can't be found in a newspaper headline."

Kara rewarded Bruce for his compliments with a shy, sincere grin. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I'm just glad I could find a way to help out."

Batman suddenly found himself momentarily stunned by how bizarre this entire situation was. Kara's grin, in and of itself, was more than enough to remind him of Clark then he would have liked to acknowledge. There was so much about this young woman that reminded him of Superman: how she could be so quiet and gentle one moment and so phenomenally focused and intense the next. Still, the detective recognized that it wasn't the time for it and, while doing so, noticed something else that he deemed worthy of attention.

"That's an interesting choice of clothing."

Kara frowned as she looked down at her modest ensemble of a long, black sweater and equally dark jeans. "Really? I don't think it's that extraordinary."

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not talking about the wardrobe, I'm talking about the circumstances. This is only the second time I've seen you wearing something other than your costume inside the Batcave. Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

Kara's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out why this seemed so damn important to the detective.

_I don't see what's the big deal. I mean, when was the first time. . ._

Pause.

_Oh. _

_Zsasz._

Now she was quick to respond. "No, it's nothing that major. At least I don't think it is."

"Well. . . how about you tell me what it is and I'll help you figure out whether it's 'major' or not."

Kara was momentarily tempted to clam up but she decided to go with it. "Mister Wayne, do you know what the symbol that my cousin wears on his chest stands for?"

Batman frowned. "Not as well as I'd like to. Clark once told me it has something to do with resurrection. Still, something tells me there's a little more to it than that."

Kara blew out a breath. She never liked explaining things to Batman because it always seemed like he knew the answer to everything already.

"It's not just about resurrection, it's about _life_. How short it can be, how precious it is while we still have it, and how important it is for everyone to do what they can to preserve it and make it better. It is a representation of our responsibility as people of Krypton to use our abilities to make life better for all that live. It's what defines my people!"

"I see," Batman said simply. He never did too well with moments like this. He was always saying something that got in the way of what somebody else was trying to say so he figured the best way to handle it was to clam up and save it for later.

Judging from the calm look in Kara's eyes, he had made the right decision.

"I just think I need to take some time away from wearing something that important. I've done a lot of horrible things and there's still a lot that I have to make up for. Maybe, some day, I'll wear it again when I'm a little more worthy it. Right now though, I think I'll stop trying to figure out how to be Supergirl and start figuring out just who Kara Zor-el is supposed to be."

Batman nodded. He was tempted to stop with that but he chose to go against his better judgment.

"Well, I hope that you wouldn't mind telling me what you're supposed to be once you figure it all out. After all, your cousin did tell me to keep an eye on you and from everything I've seen it's fairly obvious that Kara Zor-el is already quite the extraordinary young woman."

Kara found herself trying to shrink away and that unconscious movement only served to irritate her. The words were touching and the steady beat of Bruce's heart told her that they were genuine but that wasn't the issue at hand. The bottom line was that she had always been uncomfortable around The Batman. She couldn't comprehend how this man could have so much faith in her in one moment and so much doubt in his eyes the next and that lack of understanding was something that still gnawed at her actions even after all this time.

Still, she did have enough time to figure out a way to deal with it.

It was a flawless maneuver that she had practiced in her head over and over and she _knew _that it was something that the Dark Knight could neither defend himself from nor even see coming. She rushed at him with as much speed as she could muster, his eyes barely registering that she had moved before she was upon him. She slowed herself down just before crashing into the detective and wrapping her long, lanky arms around Batman's torso until her fingers met at the man's back. She ignored Mister Wayne's surprised gasp, placed her chin on the man's shoulder, and continued to hug the cranky, middle-aged man until she received a very timid pat on the back that would only come when the master strategist realized that there was no other way out.

Kara finally broke the hug when she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"I promise that you'll be the first person I tell!"

* * *

_Wayne Manor- Second Floor Reading Room_

Noah found himself to be in quite the relaxed state before Richard Grayson put it upon himself to interrupt his quiet reveries. He had been lazily leafing through a first-edition copy of _Huckleberry Finn _while sipping a cup of Alfred's wonderful Earl Grey tea just as the traipsing, spandex-addicted buffoon had snapped him from his nirvana by slamming a photo album with a maroon leather cover onto his reading table.

Of course, his rather critical description of the younger man had nothing to do with the fact that Dick had snuck up on him or the fact that the little prig looked to be quite proud of his meager accomplishment. Not in the slightest.

"Man, just when you think you've seen all there is to see in this old place!" Dick exclaimed as he pretended to take in the majesty of the room by looking from corner to corner. "I don't even think I've even been in this room before!"

Noah ignored Dick and gave the book the slightest of glimpses. Unfortunately, that was all it took for him to recognize it and see what was coming.

"I cannot say I am too surprised by that," Noah replied stiffly while placing all four of his chair legs back on solid ground. "This is a place of quiet introspection and learning and it is quite apparent that your ability in either area is grossly malnourished."

The younger man ignored what Noah thought to be quite the pithy rejoinder and continued on his own little spiel. "You know, with all the effort I put into figuring all this out I can't believe that I ignored the very first rule of being a detective: the answer to even the most difficult questions can usually be found in plain sight."

Noah didn't even bother to stifle his sarcasm and rolled his eyes. "Ah yes, _The Purloined Letter_. I was hoping that was one unnecessary fascination that had not been passed from father to son." The hacker stretched his left arm towards the desk, plucked the book off the table, and read the title.

_Brentwood Academy Yearbook- 1984-1985_

"I should have saw to the destruction of each and every copy of this accursed little tome. It was foolish to just be content with burning my own copy." Noah turned to Dick and sighed. "Would you be so kind as to direct me to the pages in question? There's little doubt in my mind that you've already burned the locations into your long-term memory."

The smug, Cheshire-cat grin on Dick's face was all the proof Noah needed to have to know that his guess was correct. "You're on page 167. Bruce is on 172."

The Calculator turned to the first page that Nightwing mentioned in order to reluctantly reacquaint himself with a young man who was somehow even lankier and more bespectacled than he was. He was an improperly smug, scarecrow of a boy who looked to have his own built in pocket protector and probably spent his free time huddled within the stacks if some of the few people he thought to be worthy of his time and intelligence were not available to speak with him. The young man waiting for him on page one hundred and seventy-two was a slightly less shocking blast from the past: a tall, broad-shouldered specimen who appeared to be nothing less than a template of physical perfection.

"Gotta say that the years have been pretty kind to you." Nightwing admitted. "Still, I have to say my favorite picture is on page 24. Turn there. I'll point it out to you!"

Noah rolled his eyes once again as he did as Dick requested. Of course, there was no need for the young man to point anything out. The picture there was a familiar one: he and Bruce eating lunch in the western courtyard while engaging in what they thought to be high-minded conversation but was more likely to be nothing more than a series of presumptuous observations. Apparently some photographer or yearbook editor considered their little display of quasi-intellectualism to be some kind of grand exemplar of student life.

"Those were not the happiest of times for either of us," Noah said softly as he slid a fingertip down the page. "Bruce abhorred human contact but he couldn't hide from the fact that he was someone that everybody wanted to be around. I, on the other hand, was someone who wanted to make friends but didn't have the slightest clue of going about it. Apparently we found some sort of connection amidst our own contradictory concerns."

Dick cautiously sat down on the end table. "If you don't mind my asking. . . What was he like back then? Was he, y'know, already. . ."

"No, he wasn't quite Batman yet," Noah replied quickly in order to bring the younger man's vocal stumbling to a stop. "Just as I wasn't quite The Calculator. We were both highly interested in our own respective fields but Bruce wasn't quite yet ready to become the lone vigilante just yet. He still had to get rid of that precious little last vestige of youth."

Dick was suddenly reminded of a story, a tale of an impetuous little brat of 19 who ran from his father's home but still couldn't tear himself free of his short pants until six months later.

"Did you know that Bruce was Batman before the Society rolled around?"

Noah sighed again as he took the yearbook in both hands and closed it shut. "Bruce left for the Orient shortly after graduation. It didn't surprise me. He had always taken furlongs from the academy, traveling overseas for weeks at a time, but he never shied away from telling me where he had gone or what he had been doing. Perhaps he just needed to tell _somebody_ about all the grand things he had been doing and I was an open ear."

The older man sat back in his chair and took a deep sip from his teacup, seemingly confident that Dick would not attempt to knock him head over heels once again. "I was well on my way towards graduating from M.I.T. when I heard from Bruce again. It had been years since I had so much had set foot in Gotham but I always kept my ear to the ground. After all, it's difficult to break away from here."

"Yes," Dick whispered. "Yes, it is."

The two gentlemen shared a bit of knowing silence before Noah continued. "I began to hear tales and whispers of a bat demon terrorizing criminals and defending the people of Gotham. These sightings conveniently came around the same time as Bruce Wayne's unforeseen emergence from his many years of frequenting the most exclusive vacation spots in Europe in order to accept the title as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, a puppet position if there ever was one. Interestingly enough, a quick perusal of Wayne Enterprises research portfolio reveals grant-funded development of technology that would well suit a person or persons who would be interested in waging a war but lacked the manpower for direct engagement. It didn't take a master detective to connect the dots."

Dick crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that reminded Noah of Bruce far more than he would have liked. "Then why didn't Bruce contact you? He had been looking for a tech expert even before I came into the picture."

Noah turned back to Richard, his eyebrows raised. "What makes you think that he didn't?"

The hacker placed his empty cup back down onto the end table. "He had even gone so far to have Alfred make the drive to Cambridge and present me with a formal service contract. However, I was too young and rash to even consider the option. I was so damn determined to try and make my own path."

"So instead of working with the world's greatest detective you decided to run around with a purple keypad on your chest and a flashlight on your head?"

"Says the man who spent eight years of his life combing the streets of Gotham while running about in bright-green pixie shorts." Noah fired back with as much haste and bite as Nightwing had. "And for your information, my spectral construct projectors were a technological marvel a generation before its time. I would have earned billions if I had been wise enough to sell the rights publicly. Now I never said that I had made the right decision but I would presume that you of all people would be able to recognize the difficulties of having your life defined by the actions of Bruce Wayne."

Dick didn't have anything to say to that.

Confident that he had earned the younger man's attention, Noah continued. "Well, after suffering enough indignities to last me several life times, I decided to try a different track. I had heard a great many whispers about some almighty hacker who had managed to filter a great deal of resources and capital from some of Bruce's subsidiary holdings. There were whispers that this 'Oracle' even held connections with the Justice League of America."

Dick's eyes narrowed and his brow began to furrow. What was worse about it all was he wasn't certain who he was mad at more, the man in front of him who had played with his head or the woman that was away from him and had played with his heart.

"It may have been a dozen years too late but I decided that I wouldn't allow Barbara Gordon to take from me what I thought was mine. Still, since that route was no longer mine to take I decided to work with the people that I had forced myself to be associated with. I created a service where those who worked outside the law could ask for information. I took their requests, searched for what they were looking for, and then I sold it to them at a price of my own choosing. Of course, I chose to keep away for Gotham for reasons that I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course," Nightwing said through gritted teeth. He suddenly discovered that he didn't have any trouble figuring out whom he hated more right now.

Noah wiped the back of his left hand across his forehead before placing his spectacles back upon the bridge of his nose. "I was proud of what I could do, the power I had, but the fact that I could have done so much more constantly gnawed at me. I was nothing more than an informant for an array of mercenaries, monsters, and murderers."

"And then there was Jack Drake."

Noah sighed deeply as Nightwing's conclusion dropped the 800-pound weight that was lodged between the both of them. "I didn't know who the contract had been set up for or who had made it until everything had already happened," the hacker said softly. "Before then, I was capable of denying what I had become while basking within my perceived intellectual superiority. However, in my zeal to maintain my pathetic little place in life I had brought pain to the only person who ever truly cared if I lived or died. It was then that I no longer had any way to hide from the fact that I was no better than the monsters I took money from."

Noah turned his attention back to the yearbook, opening it back up and randomly sifting through the pages. "I had thought that Bruce would turn me in once I told him about Jean Loring. I know that I most likely would have been if Barbara had not already left for Metropolis and the fact that Batman needed a mole within the Society. Still, I am forever thankful that your father gave me the opportunity to make up for all I've done. It is a gift that I could not possibly repay."

The Calculator closed the book once again and looked Richard Grayson squarely in the eyes. "I won't ask for your forgiveness for my part in Jack Drake's murder because I know that it is something I cannot make up for. All I can tell you is that I have been asked to do a job and that is what I am going to do because it is all that I have left."

* * *

_Antarctica_

"Have to admit that I like the outfit, pet," Lloyd said as he sat atop a towering glacier while admiring the soft beauty of the tundra in late winter. "You're looking a great deal less like a flying fire hydrant."

Floating just above her friend, Kara tried to give Lloyd a sour look but could only work up a half-hearted smirk. "At least I won't have to deal with you and Stephanie making fun of my skirt anymore."

The raven-haired young man chuckled softly as he took an unnoticed stare at the long legs that Kara's skirt had put on full display. "And you're stayin' in Gotham for good?"

"Looks like," Kara replied as she took a seat on the same ridge that Lloyd had chosen to perch himself on. "I'm glad we chose to do this here. I wouldn't want something like this to be disturbed."

"Yeah, you did good, Zor-el," Lloyd said just before the two of them went back to enjoying the quiet serenity. As peaceful as it was, however, Lloyd decided to break it. "Did I ever tell you why I chose to stay in Gotham?"

Kara had a fairly good idea but she shook her head. She didn't find any reason to spout off with what could have been a bad guess.

Lloyd remained quiet as well as he shut his eyes and concentrated for a fraction of a moment. He formed a tiny ball of golden energy in the palm of his left hand which he soon shaped into a luminescent needle that was as long as his arm.

"Look at this place. Look at all this beauty and all the other wonders you've seen and I've seen on this little ball of rock and water. All I would have to do to annihilate every bit of it is to pour enough power into this tiny little beam so when I threw it down to the ground it would come out at the other end of the world. That's all that it would take."

Kara did nothing as Lloyd brought his hand closer to his face in order to examine the possible instrument of destruction with greater scrutiny. After a couple of seconds, Lloyd gave off a derisive snort and channeled the energy back into his body.

"I just think something this fragile needs somebody like me to protect it. I've started to care too much about this little shithole to leave some tosser like your cousin to watch over it."

"Yeah, I'm pretty much in full agreement with you," the Kryptonian replied with a nod. "Well, everything except the my cousin being a tosser part."

Lloyd chuckled and was not surprised at all when Kara joined in. "So we're still a team then?" he asked after the laughter had died down.

"We're still a team."

WHOOOM!

"AAAAH!"

"BLOODY BUGGERIN' HELL!!"

"WOO-HOO! You're staying! You're staying! You're staying! You're staying!" Stephanie unnecessarily announced in an unnecessary singsong voice.

"Yes, she's staying," Lloyd said with a sour drawl while he struggled to break free of the death grip that Robin had on him. "Now put us down before I steal your power ring and watch you fall to a much deserved death."

Although she was usually quite comfortable with ignoring grisly death threats, Stephanie still decided to do what she was told. "Dinner's probably going to be hittin' the table soon. Is there anything else that we have to do here?"

Kara took one last glance at her handiwork while the winter snow and sharp winds swirled around her. "Nah. Let's head home."

The three of them turned north and made their way back to Gotham. The trip was without commotion and didn't take hardly any time at all. The funeral pyre that they had constructed continued to burn for my hours after they had departed and the headstone adorned with Kryptonian lettering remained undisturbed even longer.

_In memory of Alura and Learna. May those who are fortunate to remain remember them._

_

* * *

Wayne Manor_

"You _really _need to sell this roasted chicken recipe to the catering crew at Elias, Alfred." Arrowette declared as she gladly chose to get herself a second helping of the delicious dish. "It's a damn crime that hundreds of young men and women are being poisoned by inferior poultry."

"Well, I must say that I am quite pleased that you chose to return, Miss Cecilia," Alfred said as he set down a large bowl of garlic mashed potatoes upon the dinner table. "I find it quite a treasure to have someone about who is willing to praise my culinary efforts while not simultaneously shoveling down as much food as possible down their throats."

As if the gods had allowed Alfred to demonstrate his point, the Wayne dining hall was then invaded by three teleporting teenagers who streaked to the dinner table with all the subtlety of a train wreck. This bustle was soon followed by a slightly older gentleman who slid into one of the large oak chairs with practiced ease and began to make a grab for the potatoes.

"Now see here, you ungrateful little miscreants!" Alfred said sharply. "I will not allow any of you to eschew good manners in lieu of lining your stomachs! All of you will go and wash your hands this instant. Miss Stephanie, I will not have you wearing that ridiculous costume at the table! Go to your room and change into something more presentable."

Dick, Kara, and Lloyd all grumbled as they stomped off to the kitchen. Not to be done in that easily, Stephanie used her ring to transform her Robin costume into a green sweater with disturbingly red slacks. She was halfway towards dipping her hands into her self-created water faucet before Alfred's stern glare finally shamed her into going upstairs.

"These children will be the death of me, Master Bruce." Alfred said with what he thought was complete honesty.

"You were the one who was insisting on having more to do with your life than watching after me," Bruce pointed out as he polished off the remains of his almond and cranberry salad. "Just be lucky I asked for Dick to come back instead of inviting Ollie."

Alfred sighed while he fought hard to blot out the horrific idea of Green Arrow at his dinner table. "Well, I suppose beggars cannot be choosers."

Several minutes of companionable chatter ensued as Alfred, Bruce, and Cecilia awaited the return of the other dinner guests. Dick, Kara, and Lloyd returned from the kitchen as a group and they sat down and filled their plates while Cecilia said that she really liked Kara's sweater and asked if she could borrow it sometime. Stephanie flew down from her room on the second floor a few moments later but she at least had just enough civility and presence of mind to walk into the dining room with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Nice to see you can make it up from the cave, boss," Lloyd said as he scooped a generous portion of potatoes onto his plate before handing the bowl to Kara. "I didn't know whether or not you wanted to take the night off so I took the liberty of organizing the night's patrol routes. I figure you'll probably want to 'ave a look at 'em to see what changes you want to make."

Bruce nodded before taking a sip of mineral water. "I would like that very much. Still, I'm fairly certain there won't be anything wrong with them. Truth be told, I'm more interested in speaking with Noah about the status of our security network."

"You'd have to find him first," Stephanie said as she rhythmically tapped her fork onto her plate in a mockery of an inquisitive rhythm. "I'll just take an educated guess and say he's either holed up in the Batcave or sitting around in that dusty old library on the second floor."

"I'll beg your pardon, Miss Stephanie," Alfred said quite indignantly, "but I assure you that there is not a single room in this manor that is _dusty_."

"And he's not in either one of those places." Kara said as she stabbed a bit of chicken with her fork.

"Oh yeah," Stephanie said. "Then where is he?"

"He's in the foyer trying to figure out how he's gonna ask about eatin' with us," Lloyd said around a slight mouthful of mashed potato.

Alfred and all the people at the dinner table all turned towards the foyer to see a very flustered hacker hovering and wondering what he was going to do now that everyone's eyes were upon him.

"Holy shit, he's out in broad daylight," Stephanie exclaimed as she gave Noah a cheery smile. "Come on, C.C.! Have a sit down and indulge in some grub!"

Noah stumbled into a series of mangled remarks before finally saying something that everyone could understand. "Yes. Well. . . I was only checking upon. . . and wished to inform you. . ." He was a blur of nervous motion as he took off his glasses with his right hand and pulled out his handkerchief with his left. "This. . . this is not the time."

"Noah! Hold on!" Dick called out from the other end of the table. He let the words sink in for a moment.

"Sit. Please."

Noah was momentarily torn. He was already kicking himself for his inauspicious entrance and he felt a tinge of anger that it had taken Richard speaking to him like a timid rabbit in order for him to calm down. However, the combination of the sincere invitations and the desire to prove that he was, in fact, emotionally capable spurned him to move into the dining room and taking a seat.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, I hoped everyone enjoyed the _Nom de Guerre _arc. I know the conclusion has been a long time coming but I told you that I'd get it done and damned if I didn't. I was really torn about where I wanted to end the scene at the dinner table but this chapter, which was supposed to be about 5,000 words, is at 6,500 words as we speak and I haven't even begun to revise it. Ah well, leave it to me to be long winded. Some people may be disappointed that I didn't really cover the location of the usual members of the Batclan but rest assured, I will get started on that.

Also, I know it's kind of odd that I'm publishing this chapter on a Sunday but I've had quite the interesting weekend. I've moved back to Memphis, Tennessee, and I'm trying to reacquaint myself to the old haunts that I've frequented in my past eight years of living here. It's great to be back home but it always takes a moment or two to get back into the swing of things. But enough of my whining! On with the next issue preview!

Issue #35 Preview

One Year, er, 51 Weeks Later is over and the band is back together again. Of course, now that Batman and Nightwing are back in Gotham, that gives some of the younger Misfits the opportunity for a road trip! Stephanie, in particular, is really interested in traveling to Africa and meeting up with a former acquaintance. Still, with the big cats away that means that the mice will play. _How to Mend and Burn Fences _begins with the next chapter of The Misfits: How to Exploit Uncomfortable Situations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	35. Exploiting Uncomfortable Situations

Issue #35

Exploiting Uncomfortable Situations

_Siwah, Egypt_

The old woman had come to know the power of the African sun as soon as she had spent her first day on the dunes. It was a source of life and death so bright and so high in the sky that it appeared as if light was raining down from the heavens rather than from some nebulous, yellow sphere several hundred thousand miles away. She found a bizarre appeal within that harsh, pale radiance when she had first made her way across the Atlantic at the age of twenty. Back then the heat that was poured onto her and the sweat pouring down from her body signified the strain of a job well done. Almost 45 years had elapsed since then and now the light seemed to bear down a great deal more than she remembered.

It hadn't taken long at all for her to tidy up her modest sleeping accommodations. She neatly folded the front covers, prepared a light breakfast, and organized a pile of ruffled medical reports that she had pored over while drifting off to sleep. She did these things a bit quicker than most would choose to go about them for her list of duties was never short and she was always certain that there was always one task or another that would slip through the cracks if she wasn't there to catch it.

The few people at the camp who still chose to speak with her kept telling her that she was working too hard, that she should take some time away from the constant stress and strain. She no longer had the heart or the patience to tell them that this work was now no longer all she had, but also all that she deserved. She knew nobody ought to hear something like that.

Cliff was waiting for her in the main tent. He was a typical "Peace Corps" brat who still held on to the same blind ideology that she possessed when she first came to Africa. He was a handsome young man of 25 who just learned how to be an adult but still had a head full of idealistic tripe about saving the world one person at a time. The old woman wondered when the poor boy would be hit by the fact that the world couldn't be saved, just patched up.

"Hey, boss," Cliff said with a crisp smile despite a long night's work. He was technically the woman's boss but everyone who had ever spent more than a day in the camp knew who was really in charge of the proceedings. "You've got a visitor!"

The old woman wanted to return the young man's amiable grin but found that she couldn't work her way up to it. She found it a great deal easier to play the part of the world-weary woman that she had embraced for so many months now. Instead, she turned to her patient; no doubt some fretful young parent agonizing over some small malady that their child had picked up during the long, hot evening. Of course, the old woman found little harm in a parent showing too much concern for their child, particularly within a community where infant mortality had been so high for so long.

But then the old woman turned around and saw a ghost.

The little specter looked to be quite comfortable. Her medium-length blonde hair was neatly tucked into a Gotham Knights ball cap and her pale, blue eyes were bright instead of bloodshot and stained with tears. The brown work shorts she wore revealed the girl's short, muscular legs that were not bleeding from a dozen places and smashed into disrepair and the plain, white t-shirt tied off just above the belly button showcased a healthy body that was not broken or punctured by any number of torture devices. Her small face was not bruised or swollen beyond recognition, her nose was not leaking blood, and her smile was far brighter to the old woman than any light the sun could bring down upon her.

"She said she knew you from Gotham City," Cliff unnecessarily explained to the old woman. "I figured it was too strange of a coincidence for it not to be true." He then turned to the phantom with the cheery grin. "I'm sorry. I never did get your name."

"That's 'cause I never gave it, Doctor," the girl said with such an airy lilt that it dug into the old woman's heart. "Don't worry though; I'm not here to hurt ya!"

The girl turned to her and the old woman saw the smile change ever so slightly. The flirtatious look in her pale, blue eyes had given way to a Cheshire cat grin that bordered right on the edge of being malicious. Still, the young woman was clever enough to fool a little emotional stripling like Cliff into thinking that the two smirks weren't different at all.

"I just dropped by to say hello to the doc and talk to her about a case I came into contact with a while back," the young woman said as she turned back to Cliff. "A young woman was rolled into the ER with a laundry list of broken bones and deep punctures in her abdomen and lower torso. There had been a great deal of blood loss and a definite risk of infection since several arteries had been damaged and there was a fear that blood would start going into the wrong places. Luckily, we managed to use a mixture of coagulants to stem the blood flow and stave away any possible infections but it still led to an unnecessarily long recovery time for the patient. I was just sort of interested in seeing how Miss Thompkins would have handled it."

Leslie Thompkins did not back down from the young woman penetrating glare. If this was how things were going to end then she would do it with her head held high. She had enough to answer for already.

"That sounds like an interesting case, Miss Brown. Perhaps we should go to my tent so we won't get in anyone's way," Leslie said.

"Perhaps we should."

* * *

_Gotham City_

"Ah, the glories of Gotham City," Nightwing crowed as he slid to a stop on one of the city's less prominent rooftops. "The city streets are bustling with half-drunk husbands coming home from a hard night at the casino or strip club while their Zoloft addicted wives wait for them to come home so they can argue. The good children have been tucked into their threadbare beds with visions of therapy sessions and juvie hall stints dancing in their heads! And who knows when one of Gotham's poorly dressed, psychotic lunatics will choose to make merriment by endangering innocent lives with fear toxins or trick umbrellas or freeze rays."

The original Robin stepped towards the edge of the rooftop and stretched his arms out as far as he could as if he were trying to give the mostly slumbering metropolis a big hug. "Oh, sweet Gotham. How I have missed thee. . ."

Arrowette didn't have the slightest reservations toward laughing at the histrionic display taking place only a few feet away from her. "Come on, Nightwing. I've seen better acting coming out of my high school's drama club."

"Really?" Nightwing asked just before throwing himself into a flawless back somersault that brought him to Cecilia's side. "I would have thought a high-end institution like Elias would make sure they had a fine fine-arts department."

The young archer rolled her eyes as she pulled out her bow from the compartment just in front of her quiver and checked the string. "Yeah, they poured plenty of money into it. Doesn't mean that it still wasn't any good. Picture this: It's a year ago, just right before senior commencement. You've got the best and the brightest in the state of California all sitting in one space: police chiefs, city council officials, even the governor and both of the state's senators all waiting to see their sons and daughters on the big stage. Local television news crews are all along the front row!"

"And?" Nightwing asked with upraised eyebrows.

Arrowette turned to her partner and frowned. "They did _Les Miz_."

The son of the Batman could not offer a single word. He could only shudder.

"Three dozen spoiled, milquetoast, W.A.S.P.s-in-training strutting around the stage in pantaloons sporting bad French accents. Let's just say that the upper crust of California's therapy community put in their share of man hours in the weeks after." Cecilia ignored Dick's laughter and placed her bow back in its storage space. "You know, I would have thought you'd be in Bludhaven tonight. I've barely seen hide or hair of you even after you came back to Gotham."

"Well, I've been busy," Nightwing said simply. "First, I had to get in touch with Tim and tell him that everything was going okay here and that took about a day or two. After all, I hadn't seen him since Bruce and I went over to San Francisco to help the Titans with Professor Magnus's corrupted Metal Men. And that was what? 'Bout two months ago?"

"Just about," Cissie replied. "I saw him a couple weeks ago. He seems to be doing well."

"Yeah. 'Ittle Howdy Doody is finally finding his niche." There was a definite hint of pride in Dick's tone as he spoke about Tim Drake despite the highly unflattering nickname. "Sort of like Stephanie finding her spot here in Gotham."

"I wish it was that easy for me," Arrowette said with a huff. "I just don't think I'm cut out for this place."

Nightwing looked at Cecilia as if she had gone mad. "A week ago you faced down a psychotic who was just as strong as Superman without a hint of fear and now you're telling me that you don't think you can handle Killer Croc?!"

Cecilia had a sour frown on her lips but the look in her eyes gave her anxiety away. "This is just so different than when I was in Young Justice. We didn't patrol, we just rushed off whenever there was some super bad guy causing trouble. We didn't get to really see, well, the damage."

Nightwing could certainly understand that. He placed a comforting hand upon Cecilia's shoulder. After taking a moment to check the waters, he began to gently rub the young woman's arm from shoulder to her tricep. He knew what the young woman was thinking the moment she had closed her eyes. She was visualizing the "damage" she had witnessed in Gotham, the price of imperfection and never being able to always be in the right place at the right time. It was a lesson that he had learned many years ago and it was still something that he had to cope with.

"I know what you mean. It just reminds me how the Young Justice was so. . . so bush league."

Cissie's eyes snapped open.

"Come on! Superboy in that leather jacket! Bart with those goofy racquetball goggles! You had a teenage Lobo on your team, for God sakes!"

The archer growled as she angrily shoved Dick's hand off her shoulder.

"Aww!" Nightwing teased. "Did I hurt 'ittle Cissie's feewings? You're so cute when you're angry!"

He cooed as he tried to pinch the girl's cheek and winced as she slapped it away.

"You know, I liked you better when I didn't know that you were an asshole! I can't _believe _that I'm probably going to be stuck working with you!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I figure that's the reason old man Bats dragged me to Gotham. He's already got a Robin and Lord knows Kara and Lloyd can handle anything that Gotham can throw at them. The only logical conclusion is that he's training me so I can work with you in Bludhaven."

"Maybe you're right," Nightwing said casually. "Still, we don't have a Batgirl anymore. Maybe he's training you to be Batgirl?"

Now it was Cecilia's turn to shudder. "Hell, no. I don't want to be another Batbaby. Besides, I can't stand wearing black spandex. I don't mind working withBatman but I draw the line at dressing like him. Only an emotionally fractured loser would have so little self-esteem that they would willingly choose to dress like their teacher or, even worse, like their father."

Arrowette gave Nightwing a deliciously evil smirk.

"You're so subtle with your work, Arrowette," Nightwing pointed out.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"And I'm not wearing all black!" Dick pointed out. He traced his fingers over the stripes on his torso. "See? Blue! This is blue! And the rest of it isn't black! It's charcoal!"

Arrowette shook her head and fired her grappling gun so she could swing down to the streets below. "All that denial just bottled up in that hot body of yours, Dickie. Looks like Jean Valijean isn't the only guy who could use some quality time on the therapist's couch."

* * *

Leslie ignored the young woman casually walking behind her as she all but stomped her way back to her home. She swiped open the tent flap and made her way straight for the gallon containers of water that were piled up next to the kitchen cabinet. She remained silent as she pulled an old coffee cup from a nearby drawer, dumped some of the water inside of it, and gunned the cool liquid down in a single, desperate gulp. The liquid soothed her throat and her nerves but she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret over leaving that bottle of Montrechet back in her clinic even though she hadn't had a drink of alcohol in decades. Alfred and Bruce had always teased her about it but she would always reply that she was merely saving it for a special occasion.

Unfortunately, this seemed to qualify.

"Do you think this is supposed to be funny?" she asked the smirking little girl, the girl that reminded her so much of Dick when he was that age. . . of Jason when he was that young.

Stephanie shook her head. "Naw. It's not really funny. Kinda sad maybe, but not really funny. No. On third thought, it's really just kind of pathetic."

The old woman slung the coffee cup at the grinning apparition with all the force her weary muscles could provide her. The startle she felt when she saw Stephanie catch the cup was far deeper than anything she thought she still had the capacity to feel. Her heart and spirit had been slipping ever since that day when Bruce had caught up with her so many months ago, the day when the man she had looked after for so many years told her that he would have her arrested if she ever practiced medicine again.

"Oh, thanks. I could use a drink of water. I don't know if you've noticed this but it's fuckin' hot out here." Stephanie pointed out as she raised the cup to her lips. Seeing that there was nothing to drink in the cup, she pouted a bit before casually tossing the cup to the ground.

"I don't need anyone else to judge me, young lady," Leslie said bitterly. "I can do that perfectly well on my own."

The cheery look on Stephanie's face was gone in an instant. "Lady, you killed me. If anybody has the right to judge you, it is _sooooo _me."

"And what makes you think I should believe that you're Stephanie Brown? Her identity became public knowledge on the day of her funeral. I was there when you were buried."

"Trust me. That coffin no longer has any occupants. I dared Dick and Lloyd to come with me and help dig it up. Yeah, we got ourselves some shovels, went down to the liquor store, picked up a 12-pack of Guinness and a 12-pack of Sam Adams, and we kept digging till we hit mahogany. Of course, by the time we finally got down there Dick and I were at least two sheets to the wind. We were trying to figure out whose grave we were going to dig up next but then the cops showed up. . ."

"I performed your autopsy!"

"It's safe to say you did a lot more than that to me," Stephanie replied. "But if proof is what you're looking for. . . The real reason I kicked the bucket is because I thought it was a bright idea to try and impress Batman by enacting one of his war plans that he had designed in order to spearhead organized crime in Gotham if it ever got out of control. Unfortunately, I didn't know all there was to know about it and by the time I figured that out I was halfway to being killed by the Black Mask. Still, even after my colossal fuckup, Batman still chose to rush me to your clinic so you could patch me up just like you've helped out every other good guy and gal in a cape and cowl. However, you decided to put it upon yourself to teach Batman a lesson. You decided to make an example of me in order to punish B for allowing 'children' to fight for something they believe in."

"And if that's not enough proof for you," Stephanie went on as she yanked on her bottom lip. "Shee thish schcar?" she asked as she used the pointer finger on her unencumbered hand to indicate a white line about an inch long. "I got that during my first fight. I was six years old and Jason Seville was telling everybody that I didn't have a daddy. He was about six inches taller than I was so I smacked him with my lunchbox to bring him down and then I kept punching him 'till I broke his jaw. He got me pretty good though. It wasn't until I was about ten years old when I learned how to stop talking with a lisp."

Stephanie slumped herself down on Leslie's cot and laid down upon it, her legs sprawled over the edge. "You got a real kick out of it when I told you that I lied to my mother and said that I busted my lip when I was skateboarding. You told me I had a lot of potential."

Robin momentarily seemed content to leave her explanation at that but then she suddenly sat back up again. "Oh, and Batman is Bruce Wayne, Nightwing is Dick Grayson, Alfred's favorite dish is roasted duck sprinkled with a bit of Sherry and orange sauce, and there's a little crevice in the far southwestern end of the Batcave where Bruce keeps a bunch of memorabilia about some old cartoon called _The Grey Ghost _along with copies of _The White Album _and _Down the Old Plank Road _autographed respectively by Paul McCartney and Paddy Moloney."

"So then why are you here?" Leslie asked hoarsely. "Because if you're here to kill me then you may as well go ahead and do it. You've haunted me enough already."

"Rest your varicose veins, old lady." Stephanie advised the old woman as she sat back down in the cot once again. "It took me months to get back into Batsie's good graces. I'm not gonna ruin that by offing somebody who essentially just did me a favor."

By now Leslie had already gone through about a third of the gallon of water. "You've got an interesting way of showing your appreciation."

"Well, you did kill me and all," Stephanie pointed out. "And don't worry! If I went around killing everybody that tried to kill me then I'd never get anything done. Besides, if you hadn't have killed me then I wouldn't have become the first-rate ass-kicker that stands before you today. As far as I'm concerned, you and I are cool."

"So why _are _you here, Stephanie?" Leslie asked sternly.

Stephanie grinned and held up two fingers. "I've got two reasons. One, I just knew that I'd get a big kick out of surprising you like this. I mean, come on! Where would you be able to experience something like this except outside of watching _The Twilight Zone_?"

The old doctor gave out an irritated groan. "And the second?"

Stephanie sat up and crossed her legs over by the ankles while digging the points of her elbows into her quadriceps and cupping her chin with her fists.

"I'm a Robin on a mission, Doc Thompkins. I'm here to bring you back to Gotham."

* * *

_The Batcave_

Alfred Pennyworth walked briskly down the steps towards the low-lit passageway that led to the heart of The Misfits' base of operations. A man on a mission, the butler carried a tray in his left hand that sported a steaming pot of rich, Irish coffee and an array of after-dinner snacks that he personally prepared during a lazy afternoon within the Wayne Manor kitchen. He placed the tray at one corner of the large worktable while making certain not to disturb either the many piles of paper clustered about or the two men who bustled around them.

"Master Bruce. Mister Kuttler. How goes the search for the source of the mysterious Kryptonian markings? Has the data that you so justly liberated from that cybernetic popinjay offered any illumination upon the matter?"

Noah sighed as he pulled himself up from his hunched position. "So far it's only helped us in crossing another potential suspect off the list."

"Whatever Brainiac and Zod had in mind, it wasn't connected with these sigils," Batman explained without even looking up from the file he was scanning. "The fact that Black Dog and I were able to trace the Kryptonian lettering back to Superman's old Fortress of Solitude was either happenstance or the set up for some kind of smokescreen set up by the real culprit. Keeping us. . ." he slammed the file back down onto the worktable, "from finding out just what they're trying to do."

Alfred decided to busy himself by pouring two cups of coffee. "Well, there isn't any need to become overly discouraged. This is merely another mystery." He placed a small dollop of steamed milk into Bruce's cup. "There is little doubt in my mind that you will find the answers you seek." He gave the contents of the cup a gentle stirring before handing it to his charge. "It is only a matter of time."

The Batman had quite the dubious look on his face as he took the cup and took a generous sip in hopes of staving off his butler's bizarre paternal gestures. "Let's just hope that Mao knows more about this than what we've been able to gather by going down all these dead ends," he suggested in a gravelly tone.

Noah waited for a moment in the vain hope that Alfred would administer the same dosage of dotage for his own cup of coffee. However, he soon gave in to the inevitable and applied his preferred amount of steamed milk and sugar. "Kara and Lloyd just reported in. They've just touched down in Hong Kong and they will meet Mister Tenryu first thing in the morning as scheduled. Until then, I believe that Kara was fully intent on dragging Lloyd out to one of his favorite restaurants and having him show her the sights."

"So the two of them are goofing around and Stephanie decided to take the day off." Batman grumbled. "Why is everyone so intent on taking a day's vacation at my expense? I thought I trained these people to watch over Gotham."

"Come now, Master Bruce. There is nothing wrong with providing your compatriots with some time away. You know as well as I that Master Dick and Miss Cecilia are more than capable of performing the necessary patrols and that Master Lloyd and Miss Kara are but a phone call away. Speaking of which, perhaps it would be wise of you to use that phone and contact Commissioner Gordon. I imagine that the both of you have a great deal to discuss and that now would be quite the opportune time to do so."

Batman growled again and hastily picked up another loose file from the worktable. "I told you that I would take care of that myself."

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if my memory has grown lax in my growing years but I seem to recall you saying something along those lines several days ago just after you returned from your year-long sabbatical. However, as I have just stated, I may very well be mistaken and, if so, you have my sincerest apologies if I am."

"Give the man a break, Alfred," Noah said in a placating manner. "It is not as if any of us were unoccupied. Besides, I have asked Jim Gordon to speak with me on several occasions and he has blatantly turned down each and every one of my requests. It's only fair that Bruce be allowed to avoid such a man if he so chooses."

"With all due respect, Master Kuttler, Master Bruce is not a wanted felon."

Noah's cheeks flushed. "Only because I've been covering his tracks!"

"Now, now, Master Kuttler. Many times over have I compliment you for your inspired efforts in the fields of fraud and government sabotage. There is no need for you to behave so indignantly."

Noah was halfway towards engaging in what would surely be a vain attempt to oust Alfred Pennyworth as the undisputed Wayne Manor King of Sarcasm when his train of thought was interrupted by the familiar buzzing of his communications relay. "I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually eager to take this. Come in, Nightwing."

"Well, I love you too, Calculator," Nightwing said jovially. "I'd continue to wax poetically about my affection but we may have a bit of trouble on our hands."

Noah rushed towards his work terminal and fired up the satellite surveillance relay that allowed him to locate the position of each of the Misfits at a moment's notice. "All right, I have you and Arrowette at the Shropstein Ballroom on the corner of Fifth and Winchester. Are either one of you in need of medical attention?"

"Well, Arrowette's puking up her dinner but it's safe to say that it's not because of something she needs to see a doctor for."

The three older men unconsciously waited for Cecilia to fire back an angry reply or for Dick to laugh or squawk in response to some half-hearted attempt by the young archer to punish Nightwing for making such a vulgar comment. It wasn't until the silence started to loom that they started to feel truly worried.

"Nightwing, what's happened?" Batman asked over the relay, his tone all-business.

"I don't suppose that any of you remember that the Shropstein was holding a big-time charity banquet to benefit local autism centers?" Nightwing asked.

"I seem to recall mailing a rather generous donation along with a note saying that a certain Bruce Wayne would be unable to attend the proceedings," Alfred replied.

"Arrowette and I were just starting our downtown patrol when we saw a white van screaming out of the parking lot- New York state license tag JN1S940. The ballroom is covered in dead bodies, Batman. One-hundred seventy five, maybe almost 200 total."

"Oh, good heavens," Alfred exclaimed in horror as Noah visibly blanched.

Batman, of course, sounded completely calm. "What have you been able to determine?"

"It was poison, Batman. The fucking monster locked everyone inside the main room and pumped gas in through the vents. Men, women, and children. . . Nobody was able to escape."

"Keep it together, Nightwing," Batman said just a bit too quickly. "I want you to get into the ventilation system and get one of those tanks. I'll need to analyze it in order to start finding out who could be behind this and work on creating some kind of an antidote."

"I already know who's behind it, Batman," Nightwing said with a growl much like his father's.

"Are you certain, Nightwing?" The Calculator asked.

Dick didn't answer Noah's question the moment he heard it. He found that he needed to take a moment to take in the living horror scene in front of him once again. Staring at the desperate scratches on the walls and tempered windows and inhaling the growing stench of decay, he had to swallow the acrid bile that rose up from his stomach as he counted the dozens of bodies toppled on the ground and slumped over tables and seated on the chairs.

They all sported the same dead, horrific smile.

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

* * *

_Peace Corps Medical Camp- Siwah_

"I don't believe you've thought this idea through, Miss Brown," Leslie said as she took a seat across from the bed that Stephanie had sprawled herself upon.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've had a noticeable lack of foresight," Stephanie replied. "And I'm pretty damn certain that it won't be the last. Be that as it may, I still think I've got a good idea here."

"Batman specifically ordered me out of Gotham. He said that if I ever practiced medicine again that he would have me arrested. That hardly qualifies as rolling out the red carpet."

"Yeah, but he's not the one making the invite, I am. The reason he made that threat is because you killed me. But you didn't kill me! Well, okay, you _did _kill me! But I got better!"

"I don't recall Batman being quite so forgiving as you appear to be," Leslie said wearily. "In fact, I seem to recall _you _telling me that he fired you because you refused to follow his orders even though the only reason you disobeyed him was so you could save his life."

"And I did something phenomenally stupid to show him that he was wrong." Stephanie angrily rose up from the bed and faced the old doctor down. "Just like you did something stupid to try and prove him wrong. If I could forgive him for the way he treated me and he can forgive me for what I did then he'll forgive you too! Gotham City needs you!"

"I spent over four decades in Gotham, young lady," the old woman shot back with a trace of the old vim and vinegar that Stephanie had loved about her. "I think I know a bit more about what it needs than you do."

Stephanie's only reply to Leslie's caustic words was a derisive snort. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared the doctor down again. "Well, at least now I know where Bats gets the lion's share of his stubbornness from. I knew he couldn't have gotten it all from Alfred. Oh, and by the way, I can be pretty damn obstinate when I set my mind to it. I say you're going back to Gotham even if I have to drag you back there. You've got work to do."

"Don't you take that tone with me!" Leslie snapped.

Stephanie snorted again. "Lady, I'll take whatever tone I want with you. I mean, what are you gonna do about it? I'm not all shot up to hell and lying in a hospital bed this time."

Leslie turned away from the spirited young woman. "I'm not going to fight with you about this. I'm tired of fighting."

Stephanie stomped over to the tired, old woman and stooped down so she could look Leslie in the eyes again. "Yeah, well that's all dandy and good if the only person you were fighting for is you but that's just not the case. Your clinic gave free medical care to dozens of people who couldn't afford it for over twenty years! Bruce may have been the one footing the bill but when people came in to your clinic it wasn't Bruce Wayne they were looking to see. They looked to you because they knew that you cared and you were strong enough to do anything in your power to help them."

The young woman slammed her knees down onto the dirt floor so she could catch Leslie's evasive eyes. "That clinic was an institution. _You _were an institution! You reminded so many people that there were good people in this world that you could turn to even in a hellhole like Gotham. What makes you think that you can take that away from so many people? Don't you have any pride in your home?"

Leslie did not back away from Stephanie's determined glare this time. "It's been made rather clear to me that Gotham is Batman's town."

The blond-haired spitfire screwed up her face. "And you actually believe that bullshit?! Gotham City isn't just a town that can be tagged and claimed, doc! It's something that digs into every single part of you. It's the best and the worst of every part of us and what you get there doesn't go away even after you've left it. The real Leslie Thompkins knows that just as well as I do and the real Leslie Thompkins would never allow some emotionally-stunted, Kevlar-wearing douchebag to force her out of the town that she gave so much of her blood and sweat in order to make a better place."

The look in Leslie's eyes changed in a number of tiny ways as Stephanie's diatribe wore on. It began with outrage, dipped into a hint of pensiveness, flirted with righteous determination before dabbling into shock and bemusement before finally settling upon a warm and wistful gaze.

"You're painting Bruce with an awfully rough brush, Miss Brown."

The look in Stephanie's eyes also began to soften. "Yeah, well, just because I love the old coot doesn't mean that I can just forget that he can be an asshole sometimes."

Leslie chuckled. "Yes. Yes, I suppose that's true."

The old woman kept up her muted laughter until Stephanie felt compelled to join her. The both of them kept it up until Leslie leaned in and tenderly touched the young woman's cheek. "Oh, Stephanie. Bruce must be fortunate to have you. How could I ever forgive myself. . ."

Stephanie cut off the awkward subservience in a heartbeat and clasped the hand on her cheek with one of her own. "Now that's enough of that. You can forgive yourself because I forgive you."

"Stephanie, I killed you."

"Then you better be happy about the fact that it didn't take," Stephanie said bluntly. "Also, be happy that you killed this Robin instead of one of the other ones. Trust me, I've seen other Robins come back from the grave and it isn't pretty."

Leslie shook her head with barely concealed wonderment. "What happened to you? What happened to _Bruce_?"

"I'm not gonna tell you." Stephanie's eyes gave off a hint of a twinkle. "You're going to have to go back to Gotham to find out."

A pensive silence held sway over the makeshift residence that Leslie Thompkins had called home for nearly twenty months. Leslie couldn't quite tear her eyes away from the young woman who had played a nightmarish, starring role in her dreams for so many sleepless nights. There's little doubt that she would have continued to be lost in her clouded thoughts had the sounds of men and women screaming outside of her tent had not snapped her out of it.

"What on Earth. . ."

"Uh-oh."

There was a far-more determined look on Stephanie's face as she raced out of the tent far faster than she had ever seen even Batman move. The velocity served to startle her further but the sound of gunfire smashed all possible distractions aside and caused her to rush out of the tent. Pushing the flap aside, Leslie looked from side to side until she found Stephanie confronting the source of the clamor.

The smoking gun was in the hand of an older gentleman donned in black, blue, and orange battle armor that covered every portion of his body save for his slightly wrinkled but still noble looking face. A young woman stood behind him sporting a grin that was nearly as sharp as the katana she held in her hands. There wasn't a doubt in Leslie's mind that the two of them were father and daughter. They shared the same prominent cheekbones, the same deep, blue eyes, and bizarrely enough, the same iron-gray hair.

"I've been looking to speak with you for quite some time, Miss Brown," said Slade Wilson as he pointed his gun at the young Green Lantern. "After all, I don't consider myself to be someone who allows a debt to go unpaid."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, it's been nearly a year since I started doing what I could to bring Stephanie Brown back into the Batverse and look what's happened. Thirty-five issues, 215,000 words, one major rewrite, a nice, heaving helping of reviews (but I could always use more) and I'm still ready for more. Thanks to everybody who was with me from the very first chapter and everybody who came along on the way. I love the universe I've created and the characters in it so I don't see me slowing down anytime soon! And with that, here's the preview for the next issue.

Issue #36 Preview

Okay, so Deathstroke and his lovely daughter are looking to pay Stephanie back and something tells me that they're not talking about the red sweater that Rose got for her daddy last Christmas. On top of that we've got some Clorox-faced nut job running around Gotham that a few of you may have heard of who is looking to play while the cats are away. And speaking of those cats, just what kind of news does The Black Dog's old boss have that would bring Kara and Lloyd to Hong Kong? All this plus the return of Commissioner Gordon and the arrival of everyone's favorite jester/sidekick in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Clowns, Killers, and Killer Clowns. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	36. Clowns, Killers, and Killer Clowns

Issue #36

Clowns, Killers, and Killer Clowns

It was the first, official time that Nightwing had ever heard Arrowette sound worried. Maybe that was because of the fact that he hadn't worked with the archer for very long but Dick had the feeling that the temerity in Cecilia's voice was quite the rarity.

"Shouldn't we be bringing Kara and Lloyd back here? I mean, this is a big deal. Isn't it?"

"We were always capable of handling The Joker before Kara and Lloyd got here, Arrowette." Nightwing could hear the roar of the Batmobile's engine from the other end of the comm. link despite the noise being produced both by Cissie's motorcycle and his own. He knew that the Batmobile could be as quiet as a sleeping kitten and that the only reason that the vehicle would ever be that loud was if his father had wanted to make himself heard. The gesture was a rare occurrence whose likelihood magnified severely whenever The Joker was on the loose.

"We're about five miles out from Gotham Central," Dick shouted as he put some distance between himself and Cissie as they zoomed down the interstate. "We'll be there in four minutes tops."

"Expect me in ten. Batman out."

Dick didn't quite realize the dilemma that Bruce had forced him into until right after the communication line to the Batmobile had been cut off and shut off. He impulsively gnashed his teeth upon doing so, cursing his shortsightedness until he realized several moments later that Bruce had probably made the right decision. After all, the questions that were about to be asked were inevitable and they both knew that he was far more capable of answering them than his forever forthright father. So he took a moment to prepare the words, kept his eyes on the road, and listened to the hum of the engine as he waited for Cecilia to speak.

"So. . . The Joker."

"Yup."

There was a nice, long pause after Nightwing's simple response. Dick realized that it was just long enough for Arrowette to repress a shudder or beat down an uncomfortable image.

"'The Clown Prince of Crime'."

Nightwing hated that nickname with a passion. It made it sound like that murdering monster was running some kind of a harmless stand-up act based out of a criminal sanatorium. It didn't sound like the name of a guy who had murdered over a thousand people or had turned Gotham City and the rest of the world on its' head far too many times. It didn't sound like a guy who shot down Sarah Essen in cold blood while she carried someone else's newborn son in her arms, who mashed Jason Todd's skull in with a crowbar or paralyzed, tortured, and did heaven knows what else to the woman Dick had been in love with since he was fourteen years old.

The title, ironically enough, didn't do any justice to The Joker at all.

"Arrowette, I want you to do something for me," Nightwing made sure to say these words as clearly and as firmly as he could.

"What?"

The question came from a teenager who was genuinely frightened but thought she was too cool to admit to it. It was an emotional mindset that he had been familiar with since he had first met The Joker when he was fourteen years old. Right now a big part of Arrowette wanted to peel out of Gotham and never come back and Dick wanted it to sink into Cecilia's brain that it wasn't really a bad idea. Batman probably would have deemed the behavior to be a tad unprofessional on both sides but Bruce had already seen his share of horrors before he first met The Joker. For somebody like him, you had damn well better be prepared.

"I want you to remember all those rumors you ever heard about the monster. I don't how grisly or perverse or unbelievable they may have been and I want you to accept them as the absolute truth because it probably is. The Joker does what he does because he believes that death and loss are nothing but punch lines. He isn't charming, he isn't suave, and he doesn't use pistols that fire out a cloth that says 'Bang!' on it. He's an animal that would put a bullet into your brain just to see if he could correctly guess how it would come out of the back of your head and you better not forget that for a second."

Dick knew that his pitch was harsh but he also knew that it was necessary. He had told it to nearly all of Bruce's new recruits and he got a different reaction each time. Tim had covered up his obvious revulsion by inquiring about what caused The Joker to transform into the sociopath he had become in the most professional manner one can manage when you're worried about throwing up your dinner. Stephanie had covered up her fear by joking about The Joker's ill-advised taste in clothing, facial bleaches, and shades of hooker lipstick.

He never did get around to talking about it with Jason.

And, just as he expected, Cissie had a different reaction.

"What are we going to do when we find him?" The tone was just a dash too tenuous to be all-business but it was impressively close.

The wording of the question almost threw him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys kill the bad guys now. Right?"

Nightwing frowned. He wanted to tell Cissie that he hadn't been directly responsible for a single murder either before or after he had chosen to return to Gotham. It was Tarantula who had placed the gun to Blockbuster's head and pulled the trigger. Gorilla Grodd was the only one to die in the attack on the Society's base in Sacramento and that was at the hands of Kara. The explosion at Wayne Manor that had claimed the lives of 39 other Society members was caused by an incendiary hand-crafted by Batman and infused with magic by Lloyd and Stephanie. The closest he had ever come to murder was that horrible day when he nearly beat The Joker so severely that Batman himself had to resuscitate the animal.

Still, Nightwing knew that his defenses would probably just as porous in Cecilia's eyes as they were to his own. The sunniest title he could come up with for his role during the war against the Society was accomplice for murder by direct association. That may work well for people on trial for war crimes at Nuremburg but it didn't sit too well with him.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Nightwing honestly replied. "Whatever happens though, I want you to leave it in Batman's hands. There's no need for you to have blood on your hands."

Pause.

"All right."

Nightwing frowned once again. That pause was a little too long for "all right" to mean "Okay, I'll do what you say.". As a man long experienced with giving glib replies to his mentors, Nightwing knew that Cissie's "all right" meant "Yeah, like I'm gonna listen to you.".

_Wonderful. Yet another problem on the platter._

_

* * *

_

_Gotham City Police Department_

Jim Gordon cut the power to the Batsignal with a harsh yank. More than anything did he want to be one of the dozens of officers already on the lookout for The Joker. However, the now-highly praised police commissioner was well aware that was not a part of his job description. It was his duty to band Gotham's forces of law and order together into a mighty force that would keep fiends like The Joker off the streets and though most of his fellow commissioners would not believe that shining a spotlight into the night sky fell into their general idea of marshaling, Jim Gordon had spent enough time on the streets of Gotham to know how to do his job.

The Batsignal was a source of both hope and fear. Fear for those who believed that their crimes would go unpunished and hope for those who thought that no one was watching over them.

_The Batman is right over your shoulder. Watch out and don't worry. _

Jim knew that the role of watchdog was one that Batman had wanted ever since he had first roamed upon the Gotham rooftops. However, even the greatest amount of desire could not take away the fact that it was a stifling responsibility for the man for whom that signal represented. He had taken the worst that Gotham could possibly throw at him, night in and night out, for nearly two decades. He was also one of the key players in the Justice League and a financial benefactor for nearly every team of superheroes on the planet, or so his daughter had told him before the Clock Tower had been destroyed and she had left for Metropolis.

_Of course you would have to get away from all of th__is every now and again__. Nobody could possibl__y__ shoulder __a burden like that __for too long_.

But Batman made sure to never leave Gotham unprotected. Perhaps some of his choices in defenders had not been up to par but Batman chose quite prudently more often than not. Even in the current circumstance, with Gotham placed within the hands of four teenagers and a hacker with a number of arrest warrants and a more than sizeable bounty on his head, Batman had made certain that Gotham remained as safe as it could be. Private contributions had vastly improved the security measures at Blackgate and Arkham Asylum, the crime rate was lower than it had been in the past forty years, and the public spotlight shined upon Gotham had never been friendlier.

And it wasn't as if this was the first time that Batman had left Gotham without a word to him. The first time was after the burial of Jason Todd. That furlough lasted for nearly a month and Jim wouldn't have blamed him if he had chosen to stay away longer.

A year and a half ago he left Gotham at the subject of the lawless No Man's Land so he could prepare to push Gotham back into the light. He left again two years before that and was gone for nine months because Bane had broken his back. Jim knew that these were all more than excusable absences, no matter how offended he was by them when they originally occurred.

_So what the hell could have kept you away for a year? What is so bad that __you still won't get in touch with me even two weeks after you get back into town__ Why won't you talk to me__"_

A hard metal object crashing into the small of his back put his speculations on the back burner and filled his brain and body with warm agony. His knees had barely hit the ground when the object struck him again, this time on the back of the head. The commissioner's glasses splintered upon striking the cement roof but that was hardly the only reason that the old man's vision had become blurry and dim.

"Yes, yes, I know that it's a hackneyed bit of plot development. Believe me, nobody feels worse about it than I do. Still, I'm trying to make a suspenseful summer thriller here and I need you for my second act, Jimbo. I would have sent you a formal invitation but you've always been so darn rude about not returning your R.S.V.P.s!"

Jim put everything he could into trying to get back on his feet but the pressing force of the foot upon his neck was enough to keep him down. The mixture of fresh shoe polish and the scent of his own blood played havoc on his nostrils and he felt as if his brain was swimming.

"Not to mention that compressing your cranium with blunt instruments has always been one of my favorite hobbies. It's kind of like golf except the ball doesn't _stop_ moving until you've hit it! BWAAAA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!"

_CLANG!_

_

* * *

_

_Siwah_

"Doc, I want you to gather up everybody who's capable to get everybody who isn't capable of getting out of here out of here!"

Stephanie screwed up her face and reviewed the confusing series of words she had just blurted out while using her ring to create a spectral construction of her Robin uniform.

_Yeah. Yeah, that made sense._

"That's preposterous, Stephanie!" Leslie yelled back. "You can't expect me to leave you alone with these monsters!"

Stephanie didn't even bother to turn around. "Funny. You didn't seem to have any trouble leaving me to my own devices before."

The young woman knew that it was a low blow but she knew that now wasn't the time to pull her punch. Deathstroke and his little nut job of a daughter could wipe out everybody in this camp if she couldn't focus on the task at hand. The patients, the staff, Leslie, even that long-haired, delectable morsel of the medical community in the main tent. . . The only roles they possibly could have served now were either that of a distraction or a corpse.

"Stephanie. . ." Leslie almost whispered.

"MOVE! NOW!" Stephanie hoped that her growl sounded just a little bit like Batman's. "This place is fixing to become a battlefield and I don't want you anywhere near it!"

"You heard the understudy! This isn't any place for the old or infirm!" Rose Wilson's words were nothing short of a warning. The leonine, young woman with the platinum-blonde hair continued to stand just behind her father while she pointed her long-bladed katana at the old woman to punctuate her threat.

"Breathstroke, do yourself a favor and tell the little poodle to cease and desist. I'm only planning on spaying one of you today but I'm warning you that it's not going to take much to persuade me to do a twofer!"

Slade Wilson chuckled at Stephanie's unique example of forewarning. The growl he heard from his daughter only made it funnier. "That's enough, Ravager. It is safe to say that we already have Miss Brown's undivided attention."

"So you're attacking a Peace Corps camp just so you can get to me," Robin said without bothering to conceal her disgust. "That's dirty pool even for a scum-sucking Society flunky like you!"

Slade looked mildly disappointed as he placed his semi-automatic machine gun back into the holster wrapped around his hip. "Honestly, Miss Brown. Your definition of me is grossly unjustified. My actions in Gotham were those of a soldier attempting to complete his assignment and of a father seeking to protect his daughter. I have no more desire to see harm done to civilians than you do."

"So then what's with the _Mad Max _crap and coming in with guns blazing?" Stephanie asked with quite a bit of skepticism. "'Cause that doesn't really scream 'we come in peace'."

"Headstrong orders and determined growls aren't the only way to clear a front line, Miss Brown."

Stephanie took her eyes off Slade for a moment and turned her attention towards his sneering daughter. "And you brought your little bundle of psycho for what? So she could watch her daddy get his ass kicked?" She grinned as the young woman known as Ravager growled again. "I could have saved you the trouble, you know. I downloaded the image of you getting dumped into that garbage truck on YouTube. It had a couple hundred thousand hits on it the last time I checked."

"It is just as I said earlier, Miss Brown," Slade said calmly while his daughter continued to grow more and more incensed. "I am here to repay a debt. If you are fortunate, you will still have control of all of your vital organs when it is all said and done. Of course, if you continue to go on with this ridiculous façade of being some headstrong loudmouth who is uncertain of what she is doing on the battle field then I will not be able to guarantee your safety."

"Dude, I thought you had all these super smarts!" Stephanie exclaimed with a shake of her head. "Did you just forget that I could have used your grey matter for a sponge back in Gotham?"

"You had The Black Dog backing you up last time, little one." Slade replied as he did his own bit of reminiscing. "This time the odds are even."

"Um, you're forgetting the bloodthirsty, little sharpee behind you. Man, Deathstroke. I've heard of people dressing up their dogs just like them but their _daughters_? That just _screams _issues!"

"That's it!" Rose Wilson snarled as she yanked her other katana out of a scabbard strapped to her back. "I'm hackin' her to bits!"

Stephanie chuckled as Slade gave off a weary sigh as he held his daughter back.

"I can see that I'm not going to hear the end of it unless I let this happen," Slade said inevitably. "Very well, Rose. She's all yours."

Robin didn't move a muscle as Ravager charged at her. The young assassin didn't have the slightest bit of trouble slogging through the thick, desert sand despite her heavy boots. In fact, her gait and velocity looked to be more appropriate for a track meet than for a terrain where running was usually a pointless and potentially harmful exercise. Coming to a fast stop, Ravager came in swinging with the blade in her left hand thrusting toward Robin's gut and the blade in her right hand slicing for her head.

Robin dodged both of the attacks with ease, bending the lower half of her legs until her knees were mere inches from the ground and her head well underneath the sharp blades. Straightening her legs the moment the blades had passed her by, the proceeding lashes were avoided just as easily as Stephanie slid the rest of her body backward so that Rose's attacks passed by her once again. Continuing to dodge The Ravager's lashes, thrusts, and slashes without even bothering to bring up her hands, her antics succeeded in further infuriating her opponent with each progressive failure. She allowed The Ravager's frustration to continue to build until it bellowed to the degree that she was looking for before she used her right forearm to stave off a particularly unfocused attack while wrapping up Rose's left arm and swinging her left fist towards Ravager's face.

Ravager blocked it with her other blade.

Robin raised her eyebrows in mild surprise.

"I'm a precog," Ravager explained with a smug grin. "I have the ability to see briefly into the future. It comes in pretty handy when I have to shut up a smart-mouthed little skank."

"Really?" Robin asked sounding suitably impressed. "So you can actually see me kicking your ass? Gosh, that doesn't sound too useful!"

Batman's protégé could only laugh merrily as Ravager threw herself free of the arm lock and pressed her attack.

* * *

_Fullmore Fish Factory, Gotham City_

Before we begin, it is important that we describe our stage and the players upon it for no memorable work of theatrics begins without analyzing and embracing the world where the story shall take place.

It is a bizarre tableau to be sure. It is a cold, dusty, long-forgotten factory illuminated by recently installed track lighting that seems to only serve to exacerbate the building's grimiest attributes. Other half-successful attempts to brighten up the place are scattered about: processing machines painted a bright yet regal shade of purple, a card table strewn with abandoned chemicals and rotted fish, and a gigantic plush elephant doll that the factory's proprietor acquired from a recently murdered carnival barker and his daughter.

There. Now let us focus upon the players now that the place is fresh in your mind. Jim Gordon stands at rear stage left, his brain still foggy from what may very well be a minor concussion but his senses remain impressively sharp. He is strapped to the back wall, his restraints consisting of a number of different materials ranging from rusted chains to copper wire to duct tape. Each of these items had been scavenged from the factory's back closets and its' broken-down hauling equipment and they served its task quite admirably despite their garish appearance.

And at center stage, standing in the self-concocted spotlight, the star of our show. . .

The one. . .

The only. . .

Joker.

Who is a very nervous star indeed.

"It's only natural, really. I mean, the act is taking on an entirely new direction. An unfamiliar, dangerous direction that might just turn my wonderful show into a flop unless the timing is precisely right. Most producers would have months to make all the preparations. They could diagram the blocking, project the anticipated lulls of activity, but I don't have that luxury, do I? I'm basically flying by the seat of my trousers here!"

The thin, pallid fellow with the seaweed-green hair had been pacing back and forth for the last ten minutes or so. The heels of his trademark black spat shoes tapped roughly against the wooden floors of the factory with every step and his tie was well past the point of undone and quickly rocketing towards a state of disrepair. His speech alternated between fretful worrying, time-honored motivational platitudes, and obsessive rants centering around the shoddy state of popular culture. It was all an attempt to soothe his nerves and they seemed to be doing more harm than good.

"To just get sprung out of Arkham without a word of warning! Before I can give my thanks to the attendants for their hospitality and their tasers. A plot twist like that needs to be explained in detail or you'll lose the connection with your audience! Every two-bit, dime store entertainer knows that!"

The Joker raised his arms toward the heavens and screamed at the glass roof. "Hey! Can you hear what I'm saying, buster? Even the best of us need a little word of warning when you want them to put on a dynamic comedic performance! Who do you think you are? Joel Schumacher?"

It takes a bit of deep breathing but our tragic hero finally manages to calm himself down. He knew that now was the hardly the time to go overboard with stage fright. After all, the only people who dramatically screamed at nothing were crazy people with no talent.

"Still, the rest of the first act has gone pretty well. Gassing all those twits who want to interfere with good, old-fashioned neurological dysfunction was a nice note of poetic justice and Lord knows that snatching Jimbo and smashing his skull is a bit that will never get old. Oooooooh, and how I am all keyed up for my special plot twist for when Batty gets here!"

The Joker stopped his pacing, turned on a dime, and took his time before stalking back to his fellow day player. "Still, just because we can't be too morose doesn't mean we should get all unnecessarily exited. We've still got the dramatic moral discussion to do and we're going to need all our performers on hand to do it! HEY! MR. GORDO! This isn't dinner theater here! WAKE UP!"

Slamming his trademark "joy buzzer" against the commissioner's chest, the clown gave Gordon a moderate jolt of electricity that caused Gordon to grunt in discomfort and snap to attention. Running a gloved hand through the unkempt tangle of tresses at the top of his head, The Joker shook his head, dismayed by the unprofessional display put on by this veteran stage performer.

"Come on, Jimmy Crack Corn! Show some pride in your work! It's not like I crippled your daughter this time or anything!"

Gordon had to cough for a moment or two to get his lungs back in full working order. "I'm tired of talking with you, animal."

The Joker tutted as he wrapped his long fingers around the commissioner's chin. "Oh, don't be so grumpy, old buddy! This might be the last opportunity that we'll have to share a touching moment like this what with the Bat's newfound disposition. I don't know about you but I've always our chats to be rife with entertainment."

Gordon shook his chin free from the murderer's grip. The slight delirium from the sharp movement hacked at his temples but he managed to recover himself. "Yeah, they've been real picnics. And what's all this garbage about dispositions?"

The eyes of The Joker initially widened only a fraction upon hearing Gordon's irritated inquiry. However, once the meaning of the words sunk into his fractured mind, his pale face lit up like a child on Christmas morning that just caught a glimpse of a howitzer underneath the tree.

"You mean. . . you don't know?" The clown's voice was filled with nothing but wonderment. "He. . . didn't _tell _you?"

The Joker laughed the loudest, most insane, and most genuine laughter ever to come out of his heart and lungs. The exultations were impossible to put into words and any attempt to describe how it sounded could only frighten those who chose to read the definition. Suffice it to say that it was the unrestrained joy of a madman who thought he had just found everything that he had ever wanted only to discover that he had just found something more.

"Oh, Jimaramadingdong," The Joker blurted out when he could begin to regain his composure. "Have I got a story for you!"

* * *

Robin was impressed with The Ravager's speed, skill, and savagery.

Sort of.

It was sort of like fighting Deathstroke Lite. The speed was easy to see, the brutal strength was evident whenever Rose's blades struck against her energy claws, and the precognitive abilities were a real pain in the keester but there was still something missing there and it wasn't difficult for Robin to know what it was.

Batman had told her that Slade's greatest strength wasn't his phenomenal strength or his panther-like speed but the power of his mind and his ability to plan and strategize. Deathstroke had spent his entire adult life on the battlefield and it was his ability to analyze what may happen or what was going to happen that had kept him alive when death should have claimed him many times over. The serum that flowed through Deathstroke only served to exacerbate those talents and transform him into a warrior that was respected and feared even by those who had bested him. Simply put, what made Slade dangerous what that he was, first and foremost, a soldier.

Rose Wilson wasn't a soldier. She carried herself on fury and instinct. Stephanie was able to recognize it so easily because it was the same simple philosophy that she had endorsed back when she roamed the streets of Gotham as The Spoiler. Hit the person you're fighting hard enough and often enough and eventually they'll fall down. Be sure not to think too much more about what you're doing because then you'll start to realize that there's going to come a time when that kind of strategy isn't going to work and then you're going to be over your head.

Robin wondered if The Ravager had started to think about it when she caught one of Rose's katana with one of her claws and sliced the blade from the hilt with the other one. A quick heel strike that landed squarely on the assassin's right wrist left her opponent weaponless and looking quite belligerent. The Ravager charged at her with her arms fully extended, the intention of choking the life out of her quite clear. Forcing back Rose's outstretched arms with a simple forearm parry, she slammed her other palm into one side of the assassin's head.

Robin looked on with mild satisfaction as The Ravager crumpled and fell down face first into the hot sand. After taking a moment to determine that the young woman didn't appear to be getting up anytime soon, she turned her attention back to Slade.

"You must be so proud," she said sardonically as she used her right foot to gently turn The Ravager onto her back.

"I'm as proud as any father who watches their child fearlessly take on a challenge that they are not capable of accomplishing," Slade replied casually. "She will learn from her mistakes and grow stronger just as you have, Miss Brown."

"Yeah, well most of those childhood misadventures generally don't end with the child getting knocked unconscious," Stephanie shot back. "You're not exactly in the running for Father of the Year here."

"And who are you to compare and contrast parenting styles, my dear? Which paragon of paternal expertise that you have been subjected to is superior to mine? The fanatic vigilante who has achieved fear and infamy by abusing the talents of others or the second-rate conman who only chose to visit you when he needed money and a place to hide from the authorities?"

Stephanie was only a hair's breadth away from launching herself at Deathstroke before she managed to rein yourself. She gave the smirking mercenary an impish grin of her own as she playfully waggled a finger. "Nuh uh uh. I'm not falling for that, one-eyed wonder. You're going to have to use that big-deal brain of yours a bit more efficiently if you want to avoid me kicking your ass again."

"Who said I was here to fight you?" Slade calmly asked. "It's just as I said on the outset, Miss Brown. I'm only here to repay a debt. You just happened to be the most convenient recipient."

"Weeeeel, even if you aren't really here to fight me," Robin said coolly, "something tells me that there's just a teeny, tiny part of you that wants to get back at little ol' me for throwing you into a garbage truck and keeping you from icing Batsie."

Slade rolled his one remaining eye in irritation. "Please, Miss Brown. I am a professional. I assure you that my desire to see you bloodied and beaten can only stem from professional curiosities."

Robin shrugged in the midst of Deathstroke's dubious logic. "Well, whatever let's you sleep at night." She bent her arms and legs, readying herself into her default Hapkido stance. "No guns?"

"No spectral projections."

"Just fists and feet?"

"You'll hear no complaints from me."

"All righty then. So which one of us is going to start things off?"

"You're free to start."

"Nah, Breathstroke. Age before beauty."

"No, Miss Brown. Ladies first. I insist."

"Well, if you're going to be gentlemanly about it. . ."

Slade had just enough time to pull his mask over his aged face before Robin had thrown her first punch. Soon enough, the two of them were beating the hell out of each other.

* * *

"So there you have the brave, triumphant champion staring down at the fallen Arthur Light, his _despicable_ foe and also a man who thinks that he's a lot funnier than he actually is."

"So we've got Batman taking down a clown?" Gordon asked roughly. "This doesn't sound like a very original story to me."

The Joker ceased his ecstatic storytelling and silenced the older man with his typically exaggerated scowl. "Don't insult me like that, Jimmy," he admonished with unblinking seriousness. "I don't compare you with that marionette running the commissioner's office in Metropolis, do I?"

Gordon stared right back into The Joker's unmoving eyes for as long as the madman continued to hold his gaze. The longer the silent confrontation went on, the more Jim suspected that he wasn't leaving this little confrontation alive. However, the murderer didn't seem quite ready for it and was soon dipping back into his theatrical storytelling.

"Now you have Doctor Light with his broken legs and his ridiculous facial hair and his blasé tights all blubbering and pleading to Batty to have mercy upon him and to pretty please forgive him for his wicked ways. However, our hero will not be swayed by the villain's wicked words!"

The clown played his part to the hilt, punctuating his statements with exaggerated physical gestures and modulating his voice in order to portray the unyielding goodness of The Batman and the wickedness of the figurehead of The Society.

"So the hero smashes the villain's skull and watches the doctor's brain leak out onto the street." The Joker's tone had changed again, this time into that firm, unyielding drawl that was far more frightening than any spastic laughter he had ever produced. "Then he sends children to commit more surely righteous and positively grisly murders just to show that he means business. Then he blows up an office building in the middle of downtown Gotham that's chock full of criminals just to remind everyone who didn't hear him the first couple of times."

The Joker stalked over to the still commissioner until their faces were inches away.

"Congratulations, Gordon. Your hero's a killer."

"Why should I believe a single word you say, Joker?" Gordon asked far too quickly.

"Oh, come on, Jimmy Boy! Look into what's left of that brain of yours and take a look at the clues! Why do you think all the psychos, fruit loops, and genetic monstrosities have all tailed out of this cesspool? Why do you think my colleagues in Arkham, who used to break out of the place on a monthly basis, suddenly decide to keep themselves in it? It's because they know that there's a bigger threat in Gotham than scarecrows, penguins, and killer crocs, old boy, and he just so happens to be a guy dresses up like a bat who pulled the wool over your eyes so well that Little Bo Peep wants your face on a milk carton. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

"Shut your mouth, you lunatic!" Gordon shouted over The Joker's continued uproarious laughter. "You're lying!"

The Joker had begun to merrily spin about the stage by the time Gordon had accused him of deceit. He made certain to take some fully deserved time to wallow in the warmth of his triumph before he replied. "Now why should I try the lie when the truth looks so delicious?" he asked with a jubilant cackle. "But cheer up, Jimmy Mack! This is why what's going to happen next is going to be so very compelling! A one-hundred percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes is for certain!"

The Joker's green, bloodshot eyes never left its hard stare at Gordon's face as he marched up to his captive audience once again.

"Don't you see? _Batman finally gets the joke! _The one punch line that is so true and entertaining and rib-splittingly funny that it's the only thing that makes life worth living for! He finally realizes that the only reason to live is to play the unwanted role of the Good Samaritan and shuffle off every whacko, sycophant, activist and blue-collar schmoe off their useless mortal coils so they don't have to be suffocated by the meaninglessness of their failed and useless lives! Ain't it grand, Gordie?!"

"Don't you dare compare yourself to Batman," Gordon said softly. "You're not a fraction of the man he is and even you're not delusional enough to be thinking otherwise."

The Joker initially looked to be quite miffed by the old man's accusations. Of course, as was his tendency, his good mood once again kicked in and he was soon all toothy smiles and twitching eyebrows once again. "Jim Bob, I have put it upon myself to not be brought down by your sour demeanor when my crowning masterpiece is just on the horizon. This is either going to end with me killing The Bat or him killing me and either way it finishes up I still get the last laugh. In fact, there is _nothing _on this planet that can put me in a bad mood now!"

"OH, PUDDINNNNNNNNNNNN!"

The Joker's eyes widened with horror, aghast that the gods of comedy had chosen to rain on his parade with a force that not even a Jimmy Fallon film festival could accomplish.

Dressed head to toe in a harlequin's outfit that was a little tighter to be form fitting, Harley Quinn would most likely be viewed as quite the beautiful and vivacious woman so long as you avoided the fact that she was clinically insane. She was formally Harleen Quinzel, a prison psychologist who had once diligently put herself to the task of wondering what made The Joker tick. Some say the reason she snapped was because she had figured it out while others say she had lost it along the way. Either way you sliced it, her obsession over the murderer soon gave way into infatuation and the genesis of the unhealthiest celebrity relationship this side of Sid Vicious.

Not even The Joker could keep count of the number of times he had tried rid himself of the woman but still she kept coming back to him with the assiduousness and loyalty of a masochistic papillon.

"Harley, how in the name of Graham Chapman did you get out of Arkham?!" The Joker bellowed.

"The same way you did, Mistah J." Harley replied cheerily in that nauseating quasi-Brooklynite accent that scratched at The Joker's eardrums. "I was just there one moment and then _whoosh_, I was gone!"

The Joker sighed and tapped the tips of his shoes against the wooden floor in time with the throbbing of his bulging temples. "You couldn't let me have that thing with Gordon for free, could ya? My breakout night and you _still _can't give me a whiff of good fortune!"

"Um, puddin', why are ya talkin' to the ceiling?"

"Leave me alone, Harl! I am not talking to the ceiling!"

"Then who are you talkin' to?"

"It's none of your business, you walking poop in the punchbowl! Is there a reason why I shouldn't chop you into bits and dump your remains into the hyena exhibit at the Gotham Park Zoo?"

As usual, Harley took The Joker's macabre threats in stride. "Oh, I think I do, Mistah J. 'Cause I got a present for ya!"

The Joker stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and a petulant look took hold on his face. "This better not be another Cuisinart."

"Oh, it's a lot better than that, puddin'," Harley said with an insane twinkle in her cerulean eyes. "BRING HIM IN, BOYS!"

Harley's present wasn't exactly "brought in". "Thrown in" would be a better way to describe the delivery. Still, the sight of Nightwing's unconscious body landing roughly upon the floor and sliding to a stop at Harley's feet, his wrists bound against his back, his nose and mouth bloodied, were more than enough motivation for The Joker to ignore the semantics.

"Now I'm kind of guessin' that you wanted Bat for a main course," Harley said merrily, "but I figured that my puddin' could do with a nice appetizer. What cha think?"

The Joker could only smile as he silently apologized to the gods of comedy for even thinking that they would ever steer him wrong.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, I knew writing The Joker wasn't going to be a walk in the park but I knew I had to do it sooner or later. This is a piece of Batman fanfiction after all and it's also only right that a writer should respond to the demands of his dozens of readers. And yes, Rachel, I chose to avoid Grant Morrison's rendition of our favorite nutcase and go with sort of a mishmash between the Greg Rucka and the Paul Dini version, which are essentially the versions of The Joker that I fell in love with when I first got back into reading comics. Feel free to insert Mark Hamill's voice if you want a better feel for the experience. Goodness knows that I did.

Issue #37 Preview

The Clown Prince of Crime has got Gordon and Nightwing all trussed up with nowhere to go and it's only a matter of time before The Dark Knight arrives. Meanwhile, Deathstroke and Robin are battling it out in Africa and Kara and Lloyd are tied up in Hong Kong. And if Nightwing is in The Joker's clutches, where does that leave Arrowette? Stay tuned for the third part of _How to Mend and Burn Fences _and the thirty-seventh chapter of _The Misfits_: Players, Take the Stage! Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	37. Players, Take the Stage

Issue #37

Players, Take the Stage!

_Hong Kong_

_Tenryu__ Transnational Enterprises Headquarters _

It took two entire verses of Al Green's _Let's Stay Together _before Kara Zor-el had finally gotten tired of bobbing her head to the beat. The stretches and neck turns was just the latest in an ever growing list of time-killing activities. Her previous diversionary endeavors included attempting to engage in a pleasant chat with Mr. Tenryu's harried secretary, trying to estimate the number of carpet fibers on the floor of Mao's impressive and handsomely adorned front office, and thumbing through a two-year old copy of _People _magazine whose cover boldly declared that an article within the tome had solved the all-encompassing conundrum that was Keira Knightley's suspected anorexia.

"You would think that one of the richest men in the world would be able to pony up for some new magazines in his office."

She really didn't like being the main contributor to the chatter. It was an inclination that was with her even back on Krypton. That was part of the advantage of usually having Stephanie around. She _never _shuts up. The man sitting across from her could typically hold up his end of the conversation as well but it's quite apparent to her that Lloyd isn't in the mood for talking. However, she continued to try to get something out of him partially because she was running out of things to do and mostly because the void created by Lloyd's lack of sarcasm unnerved her significantly.

She holds up a withered copy of _Sports Illustrated _whose cover features a man wearing a Boston Red Sox uniform. "Like this Johnny Damon guy. Doesn't he play for one of those teams in New York now? I remember Stephanie saying something like that. . ."

"He keeps the magazines in here as a joke," Lloyd brusquely explained as he turned the page of his choice of reading material, a copy of _The Giver _translated into Chinese.

"Well, that seems kind of rude." Kara said with a genuine frown. As one can imagine, the grimace was not merely directed at Mr. Tenryu's inappropriate choice in magazines. "The people in this waiting room are waiting on him and he shouldn't make them feel uncomfortable just so he can amuse himself."

"Mao's got people literally coming from all across the cosmos just to see what he can do for them," Lloyd replied, his eyes refusing to rise from the words of Lois Lowry. "When he meets with someone personally he wants to talk about what they originally came to talk about, not about the latest Hollywood gossip."

Kara wanted to huff at the chilly reception but she knew that sulking wouldn't get her anywhere. That wouldn't get back the Lloyd who had rode with her on the Star Ferry right before leading her to the best place to drink Gou Gu Nao on the Victorian Harbour. She liked that Lloyd. She could go into the personal confines of one of the most powerful men on the planet with that Lloyd and feel comfortable doing it. This one. . . this quiet, impatient, and moody fellow whose disposition seemed to worsen with each passing minute spent in waiting, was not someone she wanted to deal with 8,000 miles away from home.

"I still think it's discourteous for him to leave us waiting. He was like a father to you, wasn't he?"

A long and unpleasant silence held sway over Mao Tenryu's front office for several minutes, a hush disturbed only by the quiet trilling of the telephone and the sound of Lloyd flipping several more pages.

"Mao's a very busy man." Lloyd finally explained with succinctness that The Batman would have thought to be discourteous.

The nature of the comment alone would have normally prompted Kara to launch into a meek apology or cause her to simply clam up altogether.

"Want to know what else I think is unfair? It's the fact that you're trying to defend him even when I know you're angry." Kara ignored Lloyd's impatient sigh and pressed on, leaning forward until her head was over the ornate glass table that separated the two of them. "What is going on, Lloyd? You're always telling me to talk to you when I've got a problem so why can't you do the same thing with me? Do you think that I can't handle it any better than you're handling it yourself?"

Lloyd continued to remain silent. Quite frankly, he thought that he was handling this matter in quite the mature fashion given the circumstances. He was a 19-year-old man who spent a night on the town with a beautiful, engaging young woman who just happened to be seventeen and appeared to now be free of her psychological entrapments of the past. However, instead of trying to work out this new wrinkle in an already phenomenally creased student-teacher relationship, he was stuck here in the office of a man who, for five years, had used him to extend his own economic and political sphere of influence and hadn't even bothered to give him a call in nearly nine months.

Yes, Lloyd thought he was doing handling this quite well, thank you very much for your inquisition.

"It's a good thing Bruce isn't here to see you like this."

Lloyd shut his book with an angry clap (an especially impressive feat considering that it was a paperback) but he still couldn't quite look her in the eyes.

Kara suddenly felt a twinge of hope despite the circumstances. She may have invoked Lloyd's anger but anything was better than the previous emotional doldrums. Of course, this was the moment when Mao Tenryu opened the doors between his front office and the conference room. As the heavy doors swung wide, the amiable looking man gave her and Lloyd a merry smile.

Mao took a moment to say goodbye to his previous visitors and Kara used it to examine the man that seemed to mean so much to her friend and teacher.

Standing just above the five-and-a-half foot mark, he was dressed in a modest, gray business suit that seemed to be far more appropriate for a small business convention than for the high-rise headquarters of a corporation that had frequently been a contender for the top spot in the _Fortune 500_. The slight bulge in his abdomen and the modest jowls below his thin lips were clear indications that he wasn't one to stray from a dinner table. However, Kara also noticed the hard lines around his cheeks and his forehead, the same slight indentations that she could see on Mister Wayne's face when he was poring over a frustrating case or staring down a particularly dangerous foe. They were scars brought about from life-long psychological warfare and there was no smile wide enough or _mantou_thick enough that could hide those.

"Lloyd! Miss Zor-el!" Mao happily exclaimed with open arms as his 8 o'clock shuffled out the door. "Do come inside! We have a great deal to discuss!"

* * *

_Fullmore__ Fish Factory_

Nightwing tried hard not to shake his head in disgust or disbelief as he witnessed The Joker's struggles to find the best spot on "the stage" for him. On one hand, the madman explained, he knew that the former Boy Blunder could be a major selling point for his audience and that was something that any entertainer should be looking for. On the other hand, the tortured artist in him also wanted to keep his dramatic focus upon Commissioner Gordon. Oh, and let's not forget the Sam Peckinpah in "Mistah J" that wanted to blow his brains out on the small chance that Batman would run in and possibly slip on all the blood.

"You know, I would have figured out the best way to work this if my brain hadn't been turned into goulash after all that reality television they forced upon me back in Arkham," The Joker complained as he shifted his gaze to different parts of the factory in rapid succession. "That nonsensical drivel could do more neurological damage than any frontal lobotomy could provide."

"I don't know, _whuh_Mistah J," Harley said merrily as she tested the heft of one of her many clown hammers by swinging it wildly about. "I, _gyah_, always liked _Survivor_."

The Joker snorted as he continued his scrupulous inspection of the southeastern corner of the factory. He thought that perhaps the substandard track lighting could provide the right amount of light to project the mood he was looking for if he took the moonlight out of the equation. "That melodramatic bit of pop-culture compost doesn't have anything to do with survival. Maybe if they threw in man-eating sharks or a dysentery outbreak or Dick Cheney with a sawn-off. . . _then _it'd have some pop to it."

"Ahh, I just think somebody's still mopin' about not bein' able to watch _Frasier_ over in Arkham," Harley cooed in a sing-song voice that originated from just far enough away so that the young lady could dive for cover if her snuggle bunny decided to try and ventilate her cranium. However, The Joker chose not to fire his gun, possibly due to his temporary emotional funk but most likely because he didn't want to waste any ammo.

"It's been three years and I still miss it like my first razor-tipped playing card," The Joker said as he thought back to the forays of Frasier, Niles, and their neurotic brethren. "They just don't make television like that, Harl. Without them, old Marx Brothers movies and _Mystery Science Theater_. . . I shudder to think what I would have done with my nights."

"Speaking of which," he went on as he came towards Nightwing with a quick stroll. "How's your paraplegic paramour, Nightthing? Are you and the former Batgirl still rollin' along down the Tunnel of Love or did she finally run off after you sided with your batty father figure?"

Dick was hoping to have a little more time to work on his restraints before The Joker realized that he was once again among the conscious. The possible concussion and all the chatter about reality TV didn't help his ability to focus. Still, he should have known better to be distracted. After all, he had played the role of hostage on more occasions than he would ever like to admit to anyone.

"You know, you really need to get some new material, Mistah J," Nightwing said rather matter-of-factly. "I know you like to laugh at your own jokes but you've got to understand that other people are starting to think your act is pretty tired."

"Says the Boy Hostage reprising his role for the 282nd time," The Joker fired back with a healthy dosage of dry cynicism. "I thought you moved to Bludhaven to carry out your lifelong dream of screwing up and being a Batman wannabe in a whole different city. What made you decide to come back to this metropolitan hole in the ground?"

"To be honest, I kind of missed the sushi. I've been to about two dozen places in Bludhaven and I've yet to find another place that can make a decent plate of funazushi."

"Ooh, have you tried that little place on Brossard just across that old car lot?" Harley asked, sounding rather pleased to discover that her fellow performers had come across a topic that she had a long-vested interest in. "They make the greatest caterpillar rolls! The wasabi has a little bit too much horse radish in it but I still. . ."

"_Will you please shut up, Harl!" _The Joker sounded out each and every one of his syllables with an impatient hitch. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to kill my second Robin, a decision that could either enhance or ruin the dramatic impact of my third act and you're trying to rope in somebody that will willingly want to speak with you about your taste in sub-standard Japanese cuisine! How about showing some respect for the performance, lady!"

Nightwing wisely chose to tune out the bickering murderers so he could see what kind of shape the commissioner was in. He didn't take the chance to make any vocal inquiries (Dick knew well enough to not interrupt The Joker when he had a full head of steam) and chose instead to try and catch the old man's eyes with a concentrated but concerned glare. Gordon returned his look after a while but he broke away only an instant later. He didn't appear to be in too rough of a shape but Dick thought he had never seen the warhorse look so exhausted.

_CRASH!_

_So much for the intermission_, Nightwing thought while trying to bat back the very likely possibility that The Joker was probably thinking the exact same thing.

The Batman swooped down from the roof of the factory in all his dusky majesty. His cape billowed outwards as he plummeted to the floor, his velocity stunted only slightly by the torque in his zip line. He cut his grip from fifteen feet up, just as he had taught Dick to do during one of their very first training sessions within the deep caverns underneath Wayne Manor. Tucking himself into a front somersault to buffer his downward velocity, the man who was just a month past his fortieth birthday landed with dexterity and grace that would have been coveted by men half his age.

"See that there!" The Joker said to Harley with a wiggle in his eyebrows that would have made Groucho Marx smile. "That is _never_ going to get old!"

* * *

Robin couldn't help but be a little bit entranced by it all.

This wasn't like fighting Kara who could just switch herself into another gear that she couldn't even hope to reach and take her down at her leisure. It wasn't even like fighting Lloyd who, for all his patience and good advice, often sparred with her as if he were a cat playing with a particularly aggressive mouse. It wasn't Alan Scott's flawless precision, Hal Jordan's phenomenal fearlessness, or Kyle Rayner's impressive creativity, all of which she had confronted and managed to hold her own against. In fact, the closest thing she could compare to this was fighting Batman.

With her finger glued on the fast-forward button.

She could see why Kyle left his fight with Slade sporting four broken fingers and a severely bruised ego despite the advantage in speed and power. Every bit of Deathstorke's fighting style focused upon removing all possible handicaps that could have prevented him from getting what he wanted out of a fight. Though she prided herself on being a sturdy defensive fighter, someone capable of analyzing her opponent's movements in order to change a fight into a production of her design, Stephanie was well-aware that she was running far more on instinct that she liked. Simply put, she knew she was being tutored by a master in her field of study.

Of course, that wasn't to say that Robin wasn't getting her licks in. There was a damp spot around the part of the mask that covered Slade's nose that looked a little too dark to be sweat and a clever faint with a left hook allowed her to briefly weave through the assassin's defenses and plow her right knee into Slade's torso with a force that cracked several important sounding ribs. On the other hand, the skin and muscles of her forearms were stinging from the labor of deflecting Slade's strikes and the left side of her jaw was beginning to swell to the point where she sincerely doubted that she would no longer have been able to eat anything tougher than a banana if it wasn't for the healing properties of her ring.

Slade hadn't bothered to reach for one of the guns strapped to his sides or the blades at his back and her brief contemplations concerning energy claws and energy bolts fired at her target from several miles away were shoved away almost instantly. The old man was demonstrating the determination and pride that could only come from those who waged war because it was what made them who they were and Stephanie wanted to make certain that she responded in kind. It was a narrative constructed with blood, bones, fists, and will and Stephanie loved every bit of it.

"It's a good thing that the Titans aren't here to see this," Slade said as the two of them poked at one another's defenses with chops and jabs. "I imagine a certain teen detective would hang up his tights if he could see what his replacement and former love interest could do."

Stephanie didn't bother to give any thanks for the accolade. She had thrown nearly two times as many punches and kicks in this fight but it was disturbingly clear that she was still in the passenger seat. She worried about trying too hard to take control, wondered if she wasn't being aggressive enough, and was pondering whether or not the amount of energy she poured into figuring out how she should be fighting was getting in the way of how she was fighting right now. She felt like she was playing a game of poker and she couldn't even see her own cards.

"Not to mention that Cyborg would probably get in your hair about paying back the funeral expenses for Grant and Joey, right?"

Stephanie knew it was a low blow and she wasn't surprised in the least that it only fazed the man for the briefest of moments. However, she was currently more interested in finding a way to redirect the tension she was feeling in each and every movement she made than trying to find a means to distract what wouldn't be distracted. Cheap, crass, and vulgar humor had always been a source of comfort and she didn't see any reason to shy away from it now.

"Batman chose his Green Lantern well," Slade replied as he twisted into a stance that Stephanie didn't quite recognize. "Gardner's a cretin, Rayner talks a good game until he thinks he's going to get hurt, and Stewart just doesn't have the stomach for it. Jordan could probably do what Wayne needs to be done if he ever got off his ass and learned to fight. Most importantly though, the fact remains that not a single one of them would have amounted to anything if they didn't have one of those rings on their fingers."

Robin ignored the potshots the assassin was taking at her colleagues and came at Slade with a flurry that was designed to capitalize on Deathstroke's sudden backpedaling. She managed to land a solid left jab to the man's jaw before she realized that Slade had taken the punch so he could get past her own defenses. She managed to twist her body just far enough away from Slade's arms that his right hook glanced off the body armor shielding her abdomen and a back-handed cartwheel kept her legs out of the way of a swift sweep kick and left both her and her opponent back where they had began.

"But _you_. . ." Slade continued on, seemingly without missing a breath. "You enjoy the fight. You've got that infinitesimal and ever-so-rare rattle in your brain that tells you that there's nothing quite as satisfying as the sight of a worthy opponent crumpled in front of you in a bloody heap. And if it just so happens that you're the one who falls then nothing will stop you from working to make certain that it won't happen again. All this and you're all of seventeen."

"Deathstroke, I know you've got an unhealthy fascination with teenagers but you're a little old for my tastes," Robin shot back with a smirk.

"I'm hardly flirting with you, Miss Brown," Slade said flatly. "I am merely pointing out that ambitions such as yours do not generally lead to a long and prosperous existence. There will always be somebody who is stronger, faster, smarter, or younger."

"I didn't figure that you would come all the way to Africa just to be my battlefield psychologist." Robin said as she silently wondered whether or not she should try and charge at Slade again. "I wasn't exactly looking for one either. I've already got a best friend who's willing to read my mind with or without my permission."

"Mister Thomas hasn't killed as many people as I have, Miss Brown."

"Don't be hatin', one-eye. Besides, what's wrong with finding something you're good at and sticking with it? Aren't we always told that the most important thing to consider when choosing a future career was if you could enjoy what you were doing?"

"I am not evaluating your choice of career either. In fact, I can imagine that you can take a great deal of pride in what you do. Powerful men like Bruce Wayne will always need a bloodthirsty, little pit bull who doesn't mind digging into the dirt he's not even willing to set foot on."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before she gave Deathstroke a grin. Bending her knees down to the ground, she buried her left hand in the sand. After taking a moment to take several, merry swipes at the dirt, granules of earth flying behind her with each attempt, she took a batarang out of one of the pouches of her utility belt. Daintily placing the projectile onto the ground, she took to the sand again and buried the weapon about six inches below the surface of the surrounding sand. That duty done, she looked back up at her somewhat bemused opponent.

"Arf."

Every fiber of strength in her legs propelled her body forward. A tight half-somersault performed only moments after she left the ground allowed her to hurtle at Deathstroke at a speed of nearly seventy miles per hour, her feet and heels leading the charge.

Deathstroke dodged the assault by only a moment, the force of the 135-pound projectile causing him to stumble backwards. He regained his footing in only a moment and was dashing across the sand to catch the girl and capitalize on her foolish gamble.

It wasn't until his attack was already in motion that he realized the fact that this was exactly what the girl wanted him to do.

Getting to her feet far faster than Slade had anticipated, Stephanie kept her back to Slade as she parried the chop to her neck with her forearm before bending her right knee and slamming her right heel into Deathstroke's jaw with an impressive amount of power considering the cumbersome angle. Twisting her leg along with the rest of her body, she swept her right leg into a kick that nearly caved in the oblique muscles on the right side of Slade's abdomen. The old man painfully stumbled to the ground but managed to roll his left shoulder over and get back to his feet just in time to defend himself from Robin's breakneck offensive.

It was the first time in the fight that Slade had truly been forced to go on the defensive.

He couldn't help but be impressed.

* * *

"You never cease to amaze me, old nut!" The Joker said with open arms while his blood enemy and comedy partner of many years stared at him with undisguised contempt. "In fact, I'll be honest with you. The only reason I picked this place was just so I can see you crash through the rooftop!"

"Do yourself a favor and surrender, Joker," Batman said as he moved towards the madman with swift and even strides.

The Joker gave Batman a farcical frown complete with a protruding lower lip. "Now why would I go and do something like that?" he asked sadly. "That would be like playing a Journey song and fading to black just before the big finish, thank you very much, David Chase!"

"I always did say the guy was a melodramatic _hack_!" Harley proclaimed from just off-stage.

"Yes, yes. I know you did, Harl," The Joker said with a surprising amount of patience as he pulled out a gun and stopped Batman in his tracks by pointing it at Nightwing. "And it just popped into my ailin' noggin that you really shouldn't be movin' around, Bats. I think I may have come down with a touch of AD/HD now that you decided to go all Travis Bickle and I feel like I'm developing quite the nervous trigger finger. I plan on getting a little more drama for my buck before we descend into the blood and guts."

"I've allowed your sideshow to go on for far too long." The Batman threatened though he chose to come to a stop.

"Oh. Is that why you decided to change the script?" The Joker asked, his blanched face looking brighter with each passing word. "Still, I'm not going to sit here and pretend to be angry about the editing. I know that improvisational comedy has never been my strong suit but I just find it so refreshing to finally have a partner who really gets where I'm comin' from."

The Joker flashed a toothy, yellow grin developed from years of being confined in Arkham and other institutions that didn't allow him to carry around something as potentially dangerous as a toothbrush.

"I can't even describe how wonderful it is that you finally get _the joke_. It's just so delightfully refreshing."

The Batman took a moment to observe The Joker's sick grin before he replied. "Yes, Joker. I get 'the joke'. It's just not that funny. You're going back to Arkham and I'm going to make certain that you will stay there until the day you wither and die."

The Joker shook his head while uttering a disappointed sigh as he shook his head. "I should have known better than to expect so much out of you, Batsie. I mean, just because you get the joke doesn't mean that you've managed to pick up all the subtle nuances. Strip away the bulletproof veneer and you're still just a stick-in-the-mud. Ah well! Maybe another dead Robin will stir things up a bit!"

The Joker was halfway through pulling the trigger when a speeding object knocked the gun out of his grasp. The shock of the impact caused the weapon to fire but the bullet sailed harmlessly over Nightwing's head. Harley let out a loud whoop as she took her cue and charged at the Dark Knight with her hammer held high but another projectile splintered the hammer's handle, causing her to emit a shrill _meep_ and be persuaded to remain where she was. This was soon followed by a _bang, _a _thunk_ and a _swoosh_that could only be made by someone swinging from a zip-line produced by one of Batman's trademark grappling guns.

The Joker couldn't immediately respond to the sudden intrusion because a powerful left hook from Batman had knocked him onto his ass. Once that was over though, he didn't have a problem at all bellowing his distaste for the unexpected plot twist.

"Foul! Foul! There's no archery allowed in Gotham! If you want to partake in those simplistic shenanigans then truck your fanny over to Star City, young lady!"

Arrowette was well on her way to cutting through Nightwing's restraints before she could bother to respond. "Hey! You're the one who was looking to spice up your act!" She took a moment to check and see if Nightwing was able to stand up on his own two feet before she moved to free the commissioner. "Don't be jealous of me just because you didn't think of it!"

The Joker was once again prevented from making an immediate response, this time because Batman had grabbed him up by the lapels and hefted him back to his feet. "Oh, I'm not jealous, my dear. I just wanted to throw in a bit of comic relief before I unveiled my own little surprise."

It took a half a second for Batman to realize that, somehow, somebody was charging at him while his back was turned.

The distraction gave The Joker just enough of an opportunity to free himself by using both feet to push off against the armor protecting Batman's abdomen. His fall may have been embarrassingly ungainly and it wasn't enough of a distraction for Batsie to lose his head, literally and figuratively, but the ensuing melee gave him the time to get to his feet and start to make a break for it. He heard the little blonde party pooper get another one of those nasty arrows out of her quiver and a rush of footsteps that could only be Nightthing getting ready to launch himself into one of those ridiculously overcomplicated acrobatic maneuvers that he was seemed to be so very fond of.

Personally, The Joker always felt that Nighty-Night was always strutting his stuff like that to make up for some self-perceived confusion about his sexuality. He figured it was the only plausible explanation for choosing to wear those short pants for so long. Still, that was neither here nor there.

And besides, he already had something far more entertaining still waiting in the wings.

More of his newfound accomplices sprang from the shadows, weapons drawn and moving straight for Batman and his ilk. The clown felt a moment of remorse over the fact that he had forgotten to put Harl on the list of targets but he comforted himself with the fact that he could always just go and do it later.

"What in the world?" The Batman asked with a note of disbelief that rarely ever surfaced outside of situations involving his most hated foe.

"Don't you love 'em?" The Joker asked him as he raised his outstretched arms high. "I know I'm usually a little leery of hiring people from another country unless they have their paperwork at the ready but I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I allowed this opportunity to pass me by!"

Nightwing counted fourteen of them in total. Six of them made their way straight for Batman while the others dashed at him and Arrowette. As he rushed back to lend the archer a hand, he couldn't help but notice that none of them were going after Gordon.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "_Ninjas?! _The Joker and ninjas!_"_

"Oh, come on, Queer Eye for the Bat Guy!" The Joker replied in a boisterous fashion as he and Harley ran for the exit. "I know it's a bit of a culture clash but it remains a proven fact that anything is better with ninjas! BWAHAHAHAHA!!"

* * *

The battle had gone full tilt for nearly twenty minutes. The damage and pain that they had dealt upon one another would have killed a normal human several dozen times over but Slade and Stephanie remained quite hale and hearty despite the smattering of blood and the occasional cracking and splintering of bones.

A body blow and a sweep kick from Deathstroke sent Robin down on her butt and left her in quite the vulnerable vantage point. Instead of trying to defend herself from such an ungainly position, she curled herself into a back tumble to give herself enough time to stretch her legs. Momentarily short-sighted after twenty minutes of non-stop fighting and the glaring opportunity to gain an advantage, Slade was ill prepared as Stephanie thrust her legs out and tripped him with a Wushu-style take down. However, Robin's newfound advantage was just as short lived thanks to a quick forward roll that allowed Slade to twist his body and move to an adequate defensive position even though he was still on one knee.

_BANG! BANG!_

It's really quite surprising how the excursions of a force ten brawl can make you blind to what is going on around you. Those who had never been a participant of such an event (and for those of you who haven't then feel free to count your blessings or curse your luck depending upon your proclivities) may fail to recognize how all-encompassing such a rare occurrence can be. With that being said, perhaps you may forgive Deathstroke and Robin for failing to see Leslie Thompkins looking upon them with horror from twenty yards away, her recently fired gun still smoking.

"Stop it right now!" The old woman's voice was tainted equally by fear and fury. "This is absolute madness!"

"This is also not of your concern, Doctor Thompkins," Slade replied evenly as he broke the collar-elbow tie-up that he and Stephanie had been locked in. "Please leave the battlefield. I would not want an innocent bystander to be caught in the line of fire."

"Get outta here, Doc," Robin said while she was still trying to gather her bearings and plot her next move. "I told you that I can handle this."

"_Handling?_" Leslie asked with outright disgust. "How is this helping anyone? This is nothing but pointless, abject violence and I won't have any of it. I want all of you to leave the grounds immediately!"

A blade that seemingly came out of nowhere slapped the gun out of the old woman's hand. The screech that came out of Leslie originated more from surprise than of pain.

"So you don't have the stomach for a good scrap, huh Doctor Doolittle? Well, then I'll make it so you want have to see any of them anymore."

Having used her one remaining katana to disarm Leslie, The Ravager had pulled out a gauche from her pocket and was heading straight for the old woman.

* * *

Nightwing wanted to fire back a sarcastic remark while The Joker was making his exit but he was too busy making sure that his head remained safely on his shoulders. Sidestepping an angry sword slash from what appeared to be a scimitar, he took full advantage of the opponent's wide open gut and slammed his right foot into the man's stomach. Wrapping both of his hands around the hand that was holding the blade, a knee strike to the chin of his doubled-over opponent left him with a new weapon and an unconscious aggressor. He used the former to parry the attack of his second attacker, following his block with a thrust kick to the head that left him with a nice bit of breathing room.

"Shit!" Nightwing heard Arrowette exclaim. "I didn't sign up for ninjas! Shit!"

Nightwing didn't waste any time. Throwing his newfound blade into the gastrocnemius muscle of one of Arrowette's foes, he was running at a nice clip when he bowled over another of Cecilia's foes with a shoulder tackle while the archer slammed the oaken end of her bow across the face of a third adversary.

"This is ridiculous!" Nightwing said unnecessarily as he and Arrowette went back-to-back. "Give me your utility belt!"

"Why?" Arrowette asked as they were surrounded by four more of their unknown opponents.

"Because I'm going to need weapons if I'm going to beat these guys on my own while you and Batman go after Harley and The Joker!"

"Are you sure you can take them?" Batman managed to call out even in the midst of combating his four remaining foes.

"Yeah! They kicked your ass the first time, right?" Arrowette added.

Nightwing leveled another ninja with a vicious right cross before he replied. "Only because we needed to figure out where The Joker was at! Now get out of here! Uncle Nightwing needs to stretch his legs!"

Dick's quick thinking had allowed Batman and Arrowette to escape from the fracas quickly enough to follow The Joker's trial of escape. There was no sign of tire tracks or the smell of burning rubber so the man had either not gotten to his getaway vehicle or wasn't attempting to do so. Of course, if the latter were true then it was a glaringly obvious hint that The Joker still had something up his sleeve but no nagging intuition could allow him to ignore the importance of keeping the monster from escaping.

He caught sight of them after twenty seconds of hard sprinting. The two of them had dashed across Kirkwood Avenue and were making their way into an alley bordered by a pair of brownstone buildings. Harley ducked into the side entrance of the building on the right, prompting him to signal Arrowette to follow her, while The Joker sprinted past the two buildings and hung a sharp left that almost caused him into a rusting garbage bin.

Despite being forty pounds heavier than The Joker, sixty with the armor, he was beginning to gain ground. He anticipated another ten to fifteen seconds before he would be in range to fire a Batarang that would incapacitate the murderer long enough to restrain him.

And that was where The Joker had chosen to spring his trap. It was hardly the most original of ideas, seeing as how the ten hooded figures didn't appear to be any different from those that he had left in the factory, but The Dark Knight couldn't help but recognize that the scheming was sound.

"I don't honestly know how there came to be so many of them," The Joker said merrily after skidding to a stop. "I bought two at a county fair in Setagawa and now I can't throw a rock without hitting one. You think I should have had 'em neutered, Bats?"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

I'll be honest with you. I really don't think that this was my best chapter. Or at least it wasn't as good as the last one. Still, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope that you'll review. If you do, I'll give you a ninja. Like The Joker, I'm a firm believer in the belief that everything is better with a ninja.

Speaking of disappointments possibly spawned by laziness or not knowing what to do with a temporarily bad idea, apparently the return of Wally West must coincide with the death of Bart Allen. I know that the DC Universe tends to have a _Buffy_-like definition of death but I have to admit that this death left a pretty bad taste in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I've always liked Wally and I'll probably be the first in line to buy All-Star Flash but Bart was a wonderful character and there isn't a single reason that DC can give me that can explain Bart's pointless demise.

So what if he wasn't ready for the Flash mantle? I know some old fogie comic book fans that say that Wally _still _isn't ready to be The Flash and now he's probably older than when Barry was when he croaked. And did the already painfully awesome Rogues really need the rep increase that apparently comes with killing a teenager in the DC Universe? That being said, if there is such a rep increase, farcical or otherwise, if I were Arrowette or Secret I would probably go looking for a nice, adamantium layered bunker. After all, DC has a habit of killing off the B-list characters of fun-to-read comic groups and it's pretty damn doubtful that DiDio and the Funky Bunch are going to be going after Robin and Wonder Girl (or Angst Thing #1 and Angst Thing #2 as I have come to know them as).

Ah, but enough whining! On with the next chapter preview!

Issue #38 Preview

Batman vs. The Joker! Deathstroke vs. Robin! Arrowette vs. Harley Quinn! Nightwing vs. ninjas! Batman vs. Commissioner Gordon (What? You think Batman can't have more than one opponent? He's the goddamn Batman!) Throw them all together and what do you get? Well, you get a lot of exclamation points and what's going to happen in the next installment of The Misfits: Crowbars and Olive Branches. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	38. Crowbars and Olive Branches

Issue #38

Crowbars and Olive Branches

"I have a question that's been simmering in my skull for a long time, Battyman." The Joker explained as he observed the proceedings. "I was hoping you'd be able to clear things up if you're not too busy."

Most people would say that Batman looked to be quite busy as he tangled with The Joker's newfound silent partners. Liberal use of flash bombs and gas pellets had gained him a momentary advantage but the numbers game was certainly taking its toll. He had taken one of them down with a nerve pinch and another with a Hung Ke Quyen spinning back fist that sent the target crashing into a dumpster. Unfortunately, that still left eight of his assailants, many of which were still armed with a variety of bladed weaponry that kept the Dark Knight from attempting to further even the odds.

"It's a pretty simple inquiry. Nothing too terribly complicated about it." The Joker explained as he continued his leisurely pace back and forth between the narrow confines of the alleyway. "I just hope I'm not insulting your much ballyhooed intelligence just by asking it."

The Dark Knight endured a slight gash across his right quadriceps muscle in order to draw in one of his foes. Taking a hold of the man's wrist, Batman struggled to use his right hand to snatch away the sharp-looking _kodachi _from his opponent's hand while wrapping his left arm around the man's neck. Using his assailant's body as a temporary shield, he wrestled away the long knife from his prey before thrusting his heel into the small of the man's back and sending him crashing to the ground.

Bringing the new weapon to bear in his right hand, he used it to block a strike from a nunchaku while simultaneously using his left gauntlet to halt a swipe from an iron claw that could have very well scratched through his body armor if he had not warded it off. With both of his hands occupied, the world's greatest detective used what appendages were left available to him. A firm headbutt to the stunned the opponent in front of him and a spin kick added another of The Joker's partners on the growing list of the unconscious. The spinning motion simultaneously caused the foe on his left to stumble forward, thus giving Batman the prime opportunity to bring another one of his foes down with a stiff punch to the right kidney.

"Anyway, I heard it through the grapevine that Jason Todd had come back from the dead and I was hoping that you had some idea of where he might be hanging his hat. After all, it's not everyday that you get the opportunity to sit and chat with somebody you slaughtered."

With those words The Joker had given his five remaining bodyguards a mission with no hope for success and a high possibility of permanent injury. The mention of his greatest failure twice-over turned Batman into a flesh-and-blood whirlwind that obliterated everything in its path and would not be allowed to be stopped. The Joker's five remaining defenders, each of them world-class fighters, were defeated in just under a half of a minute. All in all, it probably wasn't the wisest way to use such willing soldiers.

_CLANG!_

Then again, they _did _give The Joker the distraction that he was looking for.

Batman fell to his knees, his neck throbbing angrily as a result of The Joker's underhanded attack. The throb intensified into agony as 1,000 volts of electricity were sent coursing through him shortly thereafter. What little part of his brain that wasn't overcome by pain and exhaustion theorized that the insulation provided by his armor would probably protect him from suffering internal burns but that was a horribly small comfort at best.

"I also wanted to show J.T. this shiny, new crowbar that I bought down at _Home Depot_! I don't think it's got as much oomph as the one I used to bash his brains in but I figured that he'd be the right man to ask for a second opinion. Still, since he's not around, maybe you can be the judge!"

* * *

"Do you have any idea just where in the hell these guys came from?" Jim Gordon asked. 

Nightwing shook his head as he stood side-by-side with the veteran police officer. "I've got some ideas. I think I'll get some answers once I start kicking them in the head."

"I beg your pardon?" Jim Gordon realized that he should have been used to such a bizarre sense of logic after spending all this time working with masked vigilantes with questionable psychological backgrounds.

"You can tell a lot about somebody from how they react to somebody kicking them in the head," Nightwing replied in a sagely manner.

_And to think that I was hoping this man would marry my daughter_, Gordon thought. "Son, you've picked a disturbing way to find out how people tick."

"Commissioner, please bear in mind that I've kicked a _lot _of people in the head."

Jim Gordon couldn't deny that. In fact, after following Nightwing's prompting to seek a safer vantage point he was able to watch the acrobat administer his unique concept of investigation upon the six cloaked fighters that still remained standing after the initial fracas. Every now and then the commissioner would overhear the gossiping of his fellow officers that had seen Batman and Nightwing in action. He would hear them say that they were just carbon copies of one another and he couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous that notion would sound to anyone who had really bothered to look at the men behind the masks.

The most telling differences could be found in how they fought. Their core intentions may have been the same but that was perhaps the only similarity within their contrasting styles.

With Batman it was all about control: control of the environment and control of himself. Gordon knew that Batman was a master of dozens of different fighting styles but he also knew that every bit of that knowledge was just another step towards keeping that control. The man could have fought in the way that a painter creates a masterpiece or a Broadway director organizes a show-stopping number but he chose instead to settle for nerve strikes and right crosses instead of somersaults and uppercuts. The fight was just another part of his job, not something to be glorified.

Nightwing thought that the world was his stage and the battlefield was his center ring. He was born a performer and raised by people whose influence persuaded him to explore his talents until he learned how to put on a hell of a show. Cartwheels, somersaults, and flying kicks with enormous arcs of motion were just as common as a jab or an uppercut. The more he was able to cut loose the more likely you would see his face twist away from the half-smirk that Batman had given him into the boyish grin that always threatened to rise to the surface.

Yeah, he may have learned how to rein it in a little better over the years but Gordon could see that Nightwing, if it were only up to him, would be happier to put a smile rather than a scowl on his face.

For example, the grin on the younger man's face as he was surrounded by his unconscious opponents was a clear indication that he was rather proud of his performance.

"Well, young man. Now that you've performed your intensive investigation . . . do you have any idea where these guys came from?"

There was a brief hint of a frown on Nightwing's face before he responded. The commissioner was fairly certain that the man was a bit miffed with the fact that he had not received any praise for his stellar presentation.

"Oh yeah. And something tells me that this is going to make the old man very hard to live with for the next couple of days."

* * *

Robin wasn't certain if she could get in the way of The Ravager's murderous path but that didn't stop her from trying. 

_BLAMBLAM!_

Fortunately, there was someone there who was a little more certain of their abilities.

The first bullet made its mark right where the hilt met the blade of Rose's katana. That shot, combined with the second bullet, which punctured The Ravager's left quadriceps muscle, was enough to disarm the overeager teenager and force her into a rather undignified reunion with the ground. Despite the humbling experience, the young woman's persistence and her enhanced recuperative abilities allowed for a quick recovery.

"Why did you do that?" Rose asked shrilly. Her voice had all sorts of emotions wrapped up into it ranging from anger to shock to betrayal and the combination was enough to make Robin wince in irritation.

Slade holstered both of his pistols before responding. "Didn't I just say that we are not here for that?" Deathstroke replied angrily. "I will not allow you to stoop so phenomenally low that you will suddenly have no qualms about killing a defenseless old woman!"

"She was shooting at you!" Rose shouted as she pointed at the old woman who was only a several feet away from her, perhaps under the suspicion that her father was confused about the obvious fact.

Slade groaned in a manner that can only truly be accomplished by a weary parent who has been forced to witness yet another rash and foolish decision made by their child. "Rose, people have been trying to kill me ever since I started killing people, a regrettable period in my life that is quickly coming upon its _fifth _decade! Do you really think that I was going to get my ticket punched by a elderly doctor who can barely manage to work up the courage to fire a warning shot?"

The world's most feared assassin turned away from his fuming daughter and offered Robin a hand up. "Miss Brown, I apologize for the interruption."

Stephanie momentarily scrutinized the hand as well as the intention behind the gesture. _Y'know, a couple of years ago I'd probably be really weirded out by now_. Now, however, she placed the hand that she had used to break Slade's nose into the hand that had broken her jaw and allowed herself to be unnecessarily helped to her feet. "That's all right. It was fun while it lasted," she said as she began to brush the dirt off of her legs.

Slade hummed in an agreement before turning around. "I would also like to extend my apologies to you, Doctor Thompkins. It was never my intention to put you in danger and I had hoped that I had made that clear to my daughter. Apparently I underestimated my daughter's capacity to favor sound judgment over impulsiveness."

"I'm. . . I'm sorry, father," Rose said as she began to drag herself to her feet. "I thought it was the right decision and I didn't want to disappoint you. . ."

"That's enough, dear," Slade gently cut off his daughter. "And you shouldn't be apologizing to me, Rose. I believe it's the good doctor that is owed an act of contrition."

Rose turned to the old woman with a hesitant but genuinely abashed look on her young face. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Mrs. Thompkins, I would also like to extend an offer of monetary assistance if there has been any damage done to this facility," Slade continued. "I have always respected the diligent efforts of those who provide medical services for those in need."

Understandably, it took the old woman a moment or two to analyze the phenomenally off the wall scenario she had been thrust into before she could form a proper reply. Looking on from just a step or two behind the contrite hired guns, Stephanie was quite impressed by the fact that Leslie didn't panic or faint or take the logical way out and go insane due to the sheer lunacy of the scenario. _On the other hand_, Stephanie reminded herself, _this was a woman who ran a free clinic in Gotham so maybe this is just par for the course_.

"Oh, that's quite all right," Doctor Thompkins replied wearily. "I don't suppose that either you or your daughter require any medical attention?"

"Doctor, the offer is greatly appreciated but I assure you that it is not necessary. My daughter and I both possess accelerated metabolic properties within our bloodstream that not only allows us to recover from injuries at an exaggerated rate but also serves to eliminate any possibility of blood borne infection."

"I see," Leslie replied in a manner that clearly indicated that she was both skeptical and intrigued with the possibility of learning more. Slade seemed momentarily tempted to provide further exposition but his professionalism soon got the better of him.

"Rose, if you would, could you please fetch my travel bag. We have business to conduct."

Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her eyebrows. "And I'm guessing that I'm the second party?"

Slade turned back towards Stephanie as Rose accelerated to a brisk walk as she made her way to the jeep that brought them to the camp. "It is as I have said before, Miss Brown. I have a debt to pay off. It has been brought to my attention that Mr. Noah Kuttler has been a part of your boss's organization for the past 19 months. You see, Mr. Kuttler went to impressive lengths to ensure the safety of my daughter during my unwilling tenure as a member of The Society and I believe that I have acquired a suitable reward for his unnecessary generosity."

"Oooh," Stephanie cooed with a mixture of false and genuine interest. "Is it M&M's? He loves those ones that have almonds in 'em. I personally think that they really don't have any flavor to 'em but. . ."

"Mrs. Brown," Slade interrupted with a surprising amount of patience, "we both know that there is something The Calculator desires a great deal more than sweets."

Turning to take the bag from his daughter's hands, Slade unzipped one of the front pouches and dug his way inside. He fished out a small, somewhat rectangular object no longer than four inches, a thumb drive.

"You've been delving into the markings that have recently been popping up on apprehended metahumans and known human criminals. Factories in Bangkok, Berlin, and Fortaleza, each of which were heavily occupied but had no discernible commercial motivation behind its internal workings, have all been raided within the span of two weeks. Each of the respective local police departments were left with nothing to investigate except a great many unconscious people and just how they can figure out who did the damage since there isn't a solid piece of evidence left to find."

"So the base of your assumptions stem from the fact that you think we're the only ones who could have done it?" Stephanie asked with a smirk. "I don't think that guilt by process of elimination is really going to hold up in a court of law."

Slade continued on, clearly not worried about legalities. "While Mr. Wayne and Mr. Grayson were investigating an abandoned factory in Berlin my daughter and I were breaking into another factory in Novosibirsk. We downloaded all the information we could find into this." He casually tossed the memory storage device right into Stephanie's hands.

The blonde-haired Gothamite momentarily split her sights between the thumb drive and the somewhat smug assassin. "All righty. So let's just say that we were looking into it. Can you give me one single, solitary reason why I should believe that _you _are doing the same thing _and _that we have the same interests?"

"I can give you three, Miss Brown. First, there is the aforementioned debt that I owed to Mr. Kuttler. Second, it has been made abundantly clear to me that your organization is far more likely to make the best use of the information that my daughter and I have gathered than anyone else I can give this too."

"I would think that the Justice League would disagree with you on that one."

"The Justice League didn't see The Society even after we were right under their noses," Slade said derisively. "I wouldn't trust those vainglorious glory hounds to wash my ass."

Stephanie tried not to snort with laughter but she couldn't help herself. "And I presume that your disgusting though highly amusing statement will lead you into explaining your third reason?"

"Someone is gathering up all the dangerous people in the world that never get caught on the front page of a newspaper. Though I may not have been able to determine who is doing it or what that person's ultimate purpose may be, it is safe to assume that I wouldn't like to be here if they succeed. And, contrary to what Mister Grayson may tell you, there are quite a few things in this world that I have come to care for and I think that your group has the best shot at making sure that those things stay safe and sound."

Stephanie nodded, looking back and forth from father to daughter. "So, this really isn't just business then?"

Slade gave Stephanie a nod before motioning to his daughter to make their way to their vehicle. While Rose hopped into the passenger side, Deathstroke turned to Robin once again.

"Trust me, Miss Brown. Nothing is ever just business."

* * *

"Oh, the wonders of rubber!" The Joker crowed as he slammed his crowbar across the back of Batman's neck once again. "This way I can hit you with one hand, zap you with the other. . ." The Joker poked his taser into the same spot that he targeted with the crowbar and reveled in the agonized shout that he received for his job well done. ". . . and I don't suffer from any unwanted voltage!" 

Not willing to limit his options, The Joker rammed his right foot into Batman's gut. However, the sturdiness of the body armor was an irritation and convinced him to go back to alternating games of Wack-A-Bat and Shock the Monkey. He found no need to change the name of the second game to suit the occasion. The original name was quite amusing enough.

"You know, I'm starting to notice some distinct differences between when I hit you with a crowbar and when I hit Jason with one. There are a lot more _cracks_ when I hit you!" The Joker demonstrated his conclusion as he smashed the metal bar into The Batman's right knee. "With Robin it was more of a _squish _and _splech_ affair. Maybe it's because of all that armor. . ."

The Joker shocked Batman once again in order to prepare for an overhand, double-handed smash that he was planning on using to further test his hypothesis.

_THUNK!_

_Hey, _The Joker thought. _That's not the sound a crowbar makes. _

Then he screamed in pain from the arrow that had dug into his right armpit. His howl was so loud that he couldn't even hear the crowbar clanging down onto the ground, a circumstance that he found to be rather upsetting.

"Please keep moving," Arrowette coldly suggested as she put another arrow to the string. "I've always wanted a purple pincushion."

The Joker sputtered a bit as he looked up past The Dork Knight and saw somebody who apparently wanted to say hello. His eyes were kind of fuzzy but he could see a lot of red so he figured he knew who he was dealing with.

"Hey, Robbie! How did you manage to grow boobies?"

The arrow through his left shoulder blade jolted The Joker out of his delirium and back to what turned out to be an exceedingly painful reality.

"I told you there were no arrows allowed!" The Joker found that any attempt to move his arms was quite agonizing so he gnashed his teeth at the girl and hoped she was bright enough to get the message. "That is _cheating_ and cheaters never prosper!"

More than happy to employ this newfound distraction, Batman rammed his right boot into The Joker's gut. He kept his eyes locked upon those bloodshot eyes as he struggled to get back to his feet, the mere sight of the man providing ample motivation to complete this strenuous task. The look in the madman's eyes clearly indicated that he was soon about to either pass out or vomit from the pain but there was still a sickening grin on the face of the bleached-faced monster. Deciding not to give the animal the choice, he put all his strength into a jaw-breaking right hook that sent his nattily tailored foe down in a broken, bloody heap.

Too tired to fire back a dark, witty reply to somebody who wasn't even able to hear it, Batman remained still as he listened to Cecilia's boots striking the pavement. He felt each and every complaint his body had to give him until the archer was by his side.

"Are you okay?"

Batman could clearly see that Arrowette was struggling to figure out how to properly respond. Each of her gestures was caught between the desire to help him and the suspicion that he wanted to be left alone.

"I'll be all right." Batman said as he dismissed the young woman's clumsy attempts to either try or not try to help him. He moved towards the slumped and unconscious Joker and sat down beside him with a grunt. "I've been through worse, believe it or not."

Arrowette pursed her lips. "Tim was right. You really are a tough old bastard."

"Tim did not call me a bastard," Batman said without a hint of doubt.

The fair-haired archer chuckled. "Yeah, I know that Tim doesn't like profanity. Still, he did call you tough. I threw in the old and the bastard for dramatic interpretation."

"How courteous of you," Batman said flatly as he began to root through The Joker's pockets. "I'm hoping you managed to take care of Harley before rushing over to find me."

"I've got her wrapped up," Arrowette replied while hoping that she didn't sound too proud of herself. "Oh, and wouldn't you know it. . ."

Batman grabbed The Joker by his short, green locks and thrust the clown's head down so Arrowette could see the Kryptonian marking on the back of the man's neck.

". . . she had one of those. . ." Cissie droned off quickly. "Hey! How did you know?"

Batman shoved The Joker back down again. Astonishingly, he didn't seem to care a great deal that he put a little too much force into it which caused his foe's head to smack against the concrete.

"Harley and The Joker could have conceivably escaped from Arkham despite its new security measures. In order to do so, however, they would have been forced to be detected by any number of the hundreds of motion sensors placed within the facility. Since the security detail at Arkham could not pick up any trace towards how they escaped then the only natural conclusion is that they had outside help."

"And you think that this duo may be able to provide us with the names of the people who helped 'em out?" Arrowette naturally assumed.

"No more than the people we interrogated in Berlin or anywhere else I imagine."

Arrowette tilted her head in confusion. "Then. . . the ninja guys? What about them? Did they break The Joker out of Arkham?"

Batman shook his head. "No. They're ruled out because of the same reason that Joker and Harley are: none of them possess the metahuman capabilities necessary to avoid motion sensors. They're members of The League of Assassins, an organization and there isn't a doubt in my mind that each and every one of them has a sigil on the back of their necks. Whoever is in charge of this operation knew that Kara, Lloyd, and Robin were away from Gotham and they wanted to get us out of the way while they had the opportunity."

Arrowette nodded, happy that she was able to understand at least a little bit of it. "So the assassins were just another smoke screen?"

"Precisely. And, thanks to you, it's now something that we can use to our advantage."

Now the look in Cecilia's eyes shifted from confusion to outright astonishment. "Me?"

The Batman rose to his feet again, this time with a great deal more strength in his legs. "Nightwing and I would most likely have been in much worse shape had we been without your assistance, Arrowette. You followed our instructions to the letter and completed the tasks we put in front of you to the best of your ability despite your hesitations. It appears that I made the right decision with you."

Cecilia King-Jones was not known to blush or shy away from an accolade. On the other hand, The Batman's firm tone sounded a great deal more profound than anything Red Tornado or Robin ever had to offer. "Well, I hope that Nightwing will appreciate my efforts when I'm working with him in Bludhaven."

Now it was Batman's turn to look confused. The length of time that this confusion lasted seemed to be almost infinitesimal but it was confusion nevertheless.

"Arrowette, it wasn't my intention for you to become Nightwing's partner. It was for you to become my partner."

* * *

"OW! Will you stop that, you wretched old harpy! OWWWIE!" 

"Stop your fussing," Leslie said as she held another ball of cotton up against the open bottle of disinfectant. "The more you struggle the longer this will take!"

Stephanie managed to keep herself from flinching too harshly from the sting of the alcohol. "You know, I've got a magic ring now that gives me all kinds of superpowers. I can heal from this all on my own just like Deathstroke. You don't have to do this!"

"Utter nonsense. You may trust the medical efficacy of some unknown alien artifact but I do not," Leslie said rather harshly as she continued to tend to the nasty scrape on Stephanie's right leg. "Give me a round of honest medical care any day of the week."

"Yeah, 'cause that's worked pretty well for me in the past. . . YOW! Okay! You did that on purpose!"

Leslie sighed as she shook her head. "I'd have thought that Batman would be smart enough to find a Robin with a thicker skin."

"Listen, lady!" Stephanie growled as she shirked away from the unnecessary attention. "I've been shot, stabbed, set on fire, dragged through solid ice, and had a whole bunch of other stuff happen to me that I can't really remember right now! My skin is plenty thick!"

The old woman laughed as she set down her instruments of irritation. "You sound exactly like Richard did when he was your age. A small part of me was always expecting to deal with a smaller version of Bruce whenever he'd drop by but he'd always find a way to surprise me. I never could understand why he would go out and patrol every night. He was too intelligent not to recognize how much danger he was in."

"We've all got our reasons, Miss Thompkins." Stephanie turned to face the old woman again, confident that she wasn't going to be attacked by bandages.

"So I see," Leslie replied as she took a seat across from the younger woman. "Is there any chance that you would tell me what your reason is?"

Stephanie swung her legs out and back a couple of times while she avoided the temptation to pick at the healing scab. "I became Spoiler because I was tired of people telling me that I would never do anything with my life. I sowed that cheap Robin costume because I was angry at somebody who I thought had been given so much more than I would ever have. Still, all the costumes and the fancy stuff was just a way to dodge the fact that my life was pretty much gonna be over after I graduated from high school."

"Seems like a rather bleak way of looking at things."

"Just because it's bleak doesn't mean it isn't true." Stephanie began to unconsciously run her left hand over her right shoulder. "Yeah, some of it was about believing I was going on some kind of an adventure but I knew that it was one of the few ways that I could actually do some good. I didn't really have much else going for me."

"That's absolute rubbish, young lady. You are a bright, intelligent young woman."

Stephanie looked back up to Leslie with a winsome smile. "Yeah, and there are millions of bright, intelligent people like me pulling double shifts at restaurants and grocery stores until the day they die. Y'know, you act as if Bruce was taking advantage of all of us when he took us in but the bottom line is that we're taking advantage of him too. I have a family now, Doctor Thompkins. I have people that are with me through the good times and the bad times, not people who run away or rob a bank or pop a pill whenever I need them."

"There are safer ways to find such things."

"Yes, but this way is the way that I chose. It's not very safe and I know that it doesn't produce a lot of happy endings but I know that this is something I want to be a part of. That's the real reason why I was pissed off at you. You took that decision away from me and that is something that nobody has the right to do to anyone."

Leslie discovered that she needed a moment to digest what had just been said before she thought herself ready to respond. "So this Mister Wayne character. Do you think he'll be open to taking in a 64-year-old doctor with a checkered past and an intolerance for smart-mouthed, teenage crime fighters?"

"I'm sure he will so long as the smart-mouthed, teenage crime fighter gets to ask one last question."

"And what would that question be?" Leslie asked with genuine interest.

"Did you and Alfred ever bump uglies?"

The good doctor had previously thought that she had been ready for anything. After all, she had once performed surgery on an 800-pound half-lizard, half-human without the assistance of anesthesia for either party. However, this particular question caused her to be momentarily off-balanced.

Fortunately, Stephanie was more than happy to clarify her question. "You know! Making the beast with two backs? Mowing the lawn? Did you spread your skirt and ride the bumpy bus to Funkytown? Dick says you did but right now you look more angry than embarrassed so I'm guessing that he's wrong."

Leslie wisely chose not to respond as she made her way out of her living quarters and over to the tent where she would soon tell young Clifford Thompson of her sudden change in plans. Any attempts by her to block out Stephanie Brown's rendition of a certain classic tune by Lipps Inc. were all in vain.

* * *

Jim Gordon could still remember the first time he had sat down at this very table. It was just a shade over 17 years ago and the G.C.P.D. had just rounded up a group of people who attempted to set off explosives within the heart of the Gotham City subway system. They were well-trained, well-armed, and it was believed that they held distinct ties with the Palestine Liberation Front. Officer casualties would have been enormous had it not been for the efforts of a certain masked man who blindsided the terrorists and overcame their superior numbers before the battle got truly bloody. 

They spoke when it was over. Batman had once told him that he would never have to thank him so he didn't. Instead, Jim asked if he wanted to get a cup of coffee.

God alone knows why the man accepted. It certainly wasn't like him to do so. Looking back on it he thought that maybe the close call had convinced the stoic man in the imposing cape and cowl that he wasn't the only one waging this seemingly endless and fruitless war.

The ensuing conversation did little to clear up the mystery either. His masked "partner", for lack of a better word, had never been the consummate raconteur but Batman's vocal stumbling reached new heights within this greasy spoon diner. The unsuccessful attempt to make conversation lasted for nearly twenty minutes with him trying to find something to talk about and his shrouded companion trying unsuccessfully to find a fine line between companionable and aloof.

It wasn't necessarily a bad experience. In fact, it was the first time that Jim saw Batman as something other than the boogeyman nightmare machine who he thought could make all his problems go away. It did more to prepare him for everything that was to come than any unforeseen exit or timely rescue.

Still, despite the failures, he invited him to do it again the next month and Batman showed up right on time. They eventually began to find the right things to talk about before they could move on to what really needed to be said. He learned which buttons not to push and Batman slowly began to figure out what he could say without revealing too much about the mystery.

The café had been through race riots, crime waves, heat waves, the No Man's Land, and the raid of Burger Kings and Pizza Huts and yet it still remained standing. It would never be the prettiest thing that Gotham would ever be able to offer but it was still a part of it. The faces behind the wrinkled white aprons and fatigued smiles may change but there would always be a fresh pot of coffee and a nice piece of strawberry pie available if you knew the right person to ask.

"Hello, Jim."

Of course he had to surprise him. Almost twenty god damn years and he could still get the jump on him.

He sat down without a word to the waitress who was staring at him or the chef who gave him a passing glare before returning to his half-ready hash browns. The cape and the cowl made him look positively ridiculous within such a simplistic setting but it wasn't as if anybody was going to tell him so. Nobody had before.

"You're late."

"Sorry about that." Batman replied as he plucked out a menu from the far side of the table. "It took a bit longer than I expected to convince my new partner that she was, in fact, my new partner."

"I'm assuming you're talking about Mrs. King-Jones, the little, blonde archer?"

"One and the same."

"She did do a good job tonight. Still, are you sure she's not far enough away from the spotlight for your tastes? She's won a gold medal in the Olympics for Pete's sakes."

Their waitress, a plump, middle-aged redhead named Tara, stopped by to take their order. Jim decided to drift away from his recently applied diet and go for two eggs, some sausage patties, and a sweet roll while making a request to get a chance to top off his coffee. Batman got black coffee, of course. Jim honestly couldn't understand why the younger man even bothered to pick up the damn menu.

"She's assured me that she isn't looking for any more notoriety than she's already received. Plus her desire to honor her commitment to the late Connor Kent gives me a prime opportunity to utilize her significant potential."

"So you're essentially profiteering from a young woman's honest and possibly misguided desire to honor a deceased love one."

Batman stared at him for a brief moment before Tara arrived with a cup of black coffee and a full pot of decaf. "Glass houses, Commissioner," he replied before taking a sip.

Jim chuckled before taking a sip from his own cup.

"Nightwing tells me that The Joker spoke with you about what I've been doing."

Jim was a little too quick to put his cup back on the table. Both of them noticed it.

"If you'd let me, I would like to talk about it." Batman leaned forward as he was talking. It was maybe only a couple of inches but there was definite movement. "I know you probably have a great many questions."

The older man raised his hand up to stop the flow of conversation.

"I'll be honest with you, old friend. I don't really feel comfortable talking about something like that right now. How about you get back to me when I'm on my third cup of coffee and I'm well on my way to getting a slice of strawberry pie?"

"I see." Batman slumped against his side of the frayed table. "So what do you want to talk about?"

Gordon casually shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I wouldn't mind if you were willing to share a few stories about Mister Grayson as long as I could tell you about what's been going on with Barbara since you've been gone."

The commissioner watched as his longtime partner lowered his shoulders while the muscles in his jaw turned upward.

"You won't get any complaints from me."

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

Yeah, I left out the red meat of the café conversation. I didn't want to rehash it again and I think that this is a far more appropriate ending. Besides, this chapter's already 6,000 words without the editing and I know if I start then I'll never stop. I honestly do try and plan out these chapters with the intention of making them around 5,000 words but there's always a particular plot point that I want to put more emphasis on or a certain emotion or reaction I really want to dig deeper into and then there's no hope for me. Hell, I was planning on making the last arc only six chapters but I was so drawn into retelling Kara's past that I ended up adding another chapter just so I can put in everything that I wanted to include.

Once again, thanks to everybody who's been reviewing and I hope I satiated everybody's fix for characters in Gotham City's sphere of influence. I realize that some of the schematics for this arc may be a little skewed but it was really the only way I could think of to do a Joker story without making one of my favorite baddies look like a complete weakling. Heat vision, super speed, and oodles of magical firepower are a little too much for bad guys whose chief source of weaponry is acid-squirting flowers and psychological imbalances (probably explains why you never see Superman taking on Two-Face). That being said, I'm planning on throwing a few more Batman regulars into the upcoming arc so I might as well give you a preview. . . now!

Issue #39 Preview

His name is Noah Kuttler. It is his job to oversee the goings on of some of the world's most powerful people and that is a profession that can cause an unhealthy amount of stress and strain (particularly if you're saddled with a slight case of obsessive-compulsive disorder and a significant addiction to caffeine). Watch as our extremely unlikely protagonist bravely muddles his way through uncovering plans to create a worldwide army, enduring a possibly romantic and certain bizarre spat, and helping stave off an extraterrestrial invasion with the help of some highly unlikely partners. _A Day in the Life of a Calculator_ begins in the next chapter of The Misfits: Observing Insanity. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	39. Observing Insanity

Issue #39

Observing Insanity

"Do you require any assistance that can be performed on my side of the ocean, Mr. Kuttler?"

A small, petty, and extremely impulsive part of Noah Kuttler took Mao Tenryu's offer of assistance to be quite the insult. As if he wasn't capable of establishing a communications relay through a private commercial webbing interface! He was the one who all but wrote the book on how to do so! He was a man who had outfoxed everyone from Barbara Gordon to Michael Holt to even Alexander Luthor himself!

Then another part of Noah Kuttler pushed its way into the proceedings in order to remind him that he really shouldn't have had that fourth cup of coffee.

That niggling, ever-looming hint of egotism spawned by past humiliations has been with him even before he first took his first milligram of sertraline. It was something that was planted and germinated through years of being naïve enough to believe the lies and deceptions of his peers, people whom he believed would recompense his diligent note taking and precise lab reports with their undying friendship. _Come on, __Kuttler__! Just give me the answer to number four!_

Howard Gardner was right. Even a person with a calculated IQ of 180 could be monumentally stupid.

Shaking his adolescent memories aside, The Calculator launched himself into the task of typing the commands that would allow him to broadcast his signal from the powerful mainframe located in the bowels of Wayne Manor. With a push of a button he sent an invisible wave of light and sound rocketing skyward at a speed that even his super-powered colleagues would be hard-pressed to catch. The wave dug itself into the communications feed of a Wayne Enterprises satellite that was hovering nearly halfway between Gotham City and the Moon before racing back down and finding purchase within a telecommunications network that was available to only a handful of people and fully accessible to one.

"Ah, I believe that did it!" Mao's voice rang out from the communications link. "Well done, Mister Kuttler!"

Noah swiped off some imaginary dust and dirt from his hands before turning to his monitor and seeing Mister Tenryu's smiling face staring right at him. "My apologies for the unexpected delay. I was forced to alter my timetable due to unforeseen circumstances that occurred earlier this evening."

"No problem at all, Mister Kuttler!" Mao replied.

"Hi, C.C.!" Kara shouted with what Noah thought to be an excessive amount of cheeriness.

"Good evening, Kara." Noah replied with a far more professional demeanor. "Or good morning, I suppose. Mister Thomas, are you doing well?"

Noah couldn't quite decide the exact meaning of Lloyd's Batman-like grunt but he thought he was quite capable of drawing up a general impression.

"Will Bruce be joining us?" asked Mao. "I was hoping I would get the opportunity to speak with him."

"I apologize, Mister Tenryu," Noah replied as he took a seat. "It appears that Bruce has been forced into entertaining some exceedingly distinguished and inconvenient guests. He sends his regards."

Mao nodded calmly, the gesture giving Noah the impression that the older man knew exactly just who those guests were. "That's quite all right. Well, shall we begin?"

"I am ready whenever you are."

"Very well."

The activity on Noah's monitor quickly changed from a single, wide-angle shot of Mao Tenryu's corporate chambers into a small grouping of images displaying, among other things, familiar sigils that consisted of proto-Kryptonian lettering.

"This is The Mensobous Luminitas, or, in more common terms, The Mind's Eye. Save for this charming young lady sitting across from me it is perhaps the greatest achievement in Zor-el's tremendous and horrific career. It is a flawless amalgamation of neurochemistry and eldritch telepathy, a sigil that allows the spell's creator to control the actions and thoughts of those that they choose to place the mark upon. From a purely scientific standpoint, the marking is nothing short of a virus that annihilates and rebuilds the central nervous system of the victim in order to meet the needs of the person responsible for creating the infection."

"So it's like the O.M.A.C. virus?" asked Kara.

"Only from a cursory glance," Mao replied. "You see, unlike the infection delivered by the Brother Eye, which completely rewrote the genetic patterns of the victim, The Mind's Eye attacks the mind. The subject retains its genuine physical stature along with any metahuman characteristics that the host body held prior to the inoculation, for lack of a better word."

It wasn't the first time during his tenure as The Misfits' technological overseer that Noah felt the sudden need to shudder. It also wasn't the first time that he had tried and failed to keep that inhibition from occurring. The unconscious gesture was made even more damning by the fact that, judging from the look in Mao Tenryu's beetle-black eyes, his agitation had not gone unnoticed.

"There is no need to conceal your concern, Mister Kuttler." Mao said evenly. "Only those without compassion or concern for the freedom of their fellow man or woman would feel nothing about something such as this."

Oddly enough, this didn't make Noah feel any better.

Mao continued on. "The efficacy of the telepathic spike is best attributed to the sigil's ability to alter the subject's memory banks. The moment the telepathic intrusion begins, the virus prompts the thalamus to create neurochemicals that effectively short out the subject's short-term memory. The subject then goes about their business, carrying on whatever task the sigil's master has designated for them while otherwise maintaining their full cognitive capabilities. However, once the manipulation is no longer necessary, the subject is released having no knowledge of what they have been doing or what they had been asked to do."

"Which is why Batman was unable to force any viable information from The Joker or why Lloyd was unable to draw forth any information from the other people we've captured that have the mark," Noah concluded.

Mao nodded once again. "Precisely, Mister Kuttler. After all, how would anyone be able to say what they were doing if they don't remember doing it?"

"Not my idea of a proper hangover," Lloyd said with just a little too much bitterness.

"Mister Tenryu, please don't take this to mean that I am ungrateful for your assistance," Kara began, "but why do you happen to know so much about these markings? Or, if that question's not quite clear enough, just how do you know so much about my father's work?"

Mao weathered Kara's traces of anger and suspicion with surprising aplomb. "Miss Zor-el, the destruction of Krypton is hardly regarded as an isolated incident. Vril Dox is not the only creature in the galaxy who is interested in acquiring the technological marvels that your people were responsible for producing. As for myself, though my own home planet was not quite yet capable of creating vehicles capable of achieving interplanetary space travel 30 years ago, I did have contacts with many of those who did and they were able to bring me some of your home world's bounty in exchange for money or valuable information."

"Mister Tenryu, I witnessed the destruction of my planet," Kara fired back with a perfectly understandable degree of anger. "That explosion annihilated everything! There wasn't anything left to scavenge."

"Miss Zor-el, you don't honestly believe that a civilization so advanced and so rooted with hubris as yours would, as the old saying goes, put all their eggs in one basket? Kryptonian scientists such as your father saw no reason not to store backup data and products in secured locations upon their many conquests. Much of what was brought to me had been fetched from poorly developed civilizations who wouldn't even know where to begin to learn how to operate what the Kryptonians had left in plain sight."

"All right, that explains how you can know so much about Krypton," Kara said. "But that still doesn't explain how you know so much about this!"

Noah was quite surprised that Lloyd made no attempt to serve as a go-between for Kara's increasingly heated inquisitions and Mao's passive endurance. He took a bite from a raspberry scone that Alfred left for him while he made a mental note to ask the young man about this when it was more convenient to do so.

"I think the answer should be rather obvious by now, Miss Zor-el," Mao replied. "It's because I was the one who brought The Mensobous Luminitas to Earth."

The Calculator cursed as a hint of raspberry crashed onto his tan trousers. Meanwhile, 8,000 miles away, a shocked Kara rose to her feet with a dangerous look in her eyes. Then, two feet away from her, Lloyd wrapped a firm hand around Kara's right wrist before she could move any further.

"Yet another one of your side projects, eh?" Lloyd asked without rising from his seat, releasing his hold on Kara, or taking his eyes off his former boss.

"It is hardly one of my finer moments, my boy," Mao replied as Kara sat back down. "I doubt that the Thangaarian scoundrel who fetched me the data was even aware of what he had in his possession would he gave it to me. Once I had managed to decipher what I had been given I realized that I had paid a mere pittance in comparison in return. I won't deny that I was initially and sorely tempted to use The Mind's Eye but I soon found that I could not quite avoid the certainty of what I would be doing if I chose to do so."

"But it wasn't enough to believe you had to eliminate all the information about it, did it?" Lloyd all but growled. "That didn't stop you from storing it some place in case you needed to break it out on a rainy day and it didn't stop someone else from nicking it from right under your nose and usin' it."

The young man jerked out of his chair and turned away from Noah's screen and the two other people that were in the room. "Calculator, do I have a clear path to the manor?"

"Lloyd, wait. Just wait a second." Mao said, his voice finally betraying a hint of vulnerability. "Hold on, my boy."

"I'm not your boy," Lloyd flatly replied. "So how about you just leave me be and let me go about picking up your mess again."

The Black Dog teleported away without another word. Noah immediately fired up his tracking system, worried that the young man would be doing something rash. He couldn't help but give off a relieved sigh when he discovered that Lloyd appeared to be several miles above Gotham City.

Meanwhile, back in Hong Kong, Mao Tenryu sighed as he placed one hand upon the conference table and the other hand upon his wrinkled forehead.

"Well, that does it. I've finally managed to lose him."

Noah looked into Kara's eyes, realizing that Mao's words, in and of themselves, could have easily persuaded the young woman to angrily confront the businessman once again. However, the resignation and sadness that came with the old man's admission appeared to soften the young woman's resolve.

"You could have just picked up the phone and called him. He was our leader." Kara said softly. "He trained us for an entire year and one of the few things he wanted in return was something that only you could have given but you didn't do it."

The Calculator remained quiet as Kara's words sunk in. Noah knew that he was nothing but an observer now, just as he always tended to be when all was said and done.

"Miss Zor-el, do you know why I gave Lloyd the name of The Black Dog?" Mao asked.

Kara frowned. "I don't see how that has to do with what we're talking about, Mister Tenryu."

"Lloyd has a great many reasons not to trust anyone that he comes across. It's a tendency that has both aided and hindered him in a profession where the gift of trust should be extended to only a select few. I stopped counting the number of agents who refused to work with him after an initial meeting simply because they could not find a way to connect with him. However, I imagine that those few who did manage to find that connection would all agree that there is no one they would rather have at their side."

Kara nodded in agreement.

"Miss Zor-el, the fact of the matter is that Lloyd Thomas is the single most loyal person I have ever known. It can be a Herculean feat to earn his trust but once you do you will have found someone who would willingly walk with you into the gates of Hell for the slightest of reasons. However, if you betray that trust, as I so obviously have, then you'll find that it is something that is next to impossible to regain."

The look in Kara's eyes was a clear indication that she wasn't quite sure what the old man had wanted her to do with this newfound information. Noah knew the answer of course but he also knew that it wasn't his place to provide it.

"Mister Tenryu. Those reasons that you mentioned. . . Just what are they?"

Mao turned towards the young woman with a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

"I would have thought that you'd rather wait for Lloyd to tell them to you, Miss Zor-el."

Kara looked momentarily ready to defend herself from what could have been construed as quite the accusation. After a moment though, she found herself feeling no reason to refute it.

"There's still a lot of ground to cover today, Miss Zor-el. However, I would like to ask a favor of you if I may."

"What is that?"

"Take good care of his heart. Or at least do a better job of it than I have."

* * *

Noah had long grown accustomed to the fact that his overall quality of work had a great deal to do with the quality of his eavesdropping. He had to keep a sharp eye on Barbara Gordon's communication interceptors back in the day whenever some of his fellow rogues needed the open air to trade information face-to-face for one obvious reason: because failing to do so meant that he would have been rewarded for his efforts with some new enemies instead of a nice paycheck. During his stint as a member of the Secret Society he had to make certain to watch his fellow compatriots so that no one would notice his duplicitous activities and be tempted to dig him an early grave.

That being said, he never expected to be called upon to do this kind of harmless eavesdropping. Not that he didn't take a mild bit of guilty pleasure from it all but the middle-aged man knew that there were more productive ways to be spending his time.

Kara was the last to arrive at the proceedings, her countenance seeming to be just the slightest bit dour. She had spent another half-hour speaking with Mao after Lloyd's overemotional departure and had done well to fish out any scrap of information that the corporate power player knew and was ready to dish out.

"Has it already started?" Kara asked as she absently brushed her fingers through a tangle in her long, blonde hair. "I hope I didn't miss anything."

"I imagine that there isn't really anything to miss," Noah replied without even looking up from his keyboard. "Still, if you're interested in observing the tedium then you're free to join the others in the Source Room."

The Source Room was a product of Bruce's ingenuity and Lloyd and Stephanie's magical expertise. It was originally nothing more than an unused bedroom on the western end of the second floor of the manor but it had now been redesigned over the course of several months to serve as the nerve system for the magically-based defenses that currently surrounded the once-vulnerable estate. Additionally, anyone within the room was rendered undetectable from telepathy or any other form of detection. It was quite an astonishing thing to witness even for someone as jaded as The Calculator and the only reason that Noah had chosen not to make the room his second home was that the ambient eldritch energy tended to play havoc with his equipment.

Noah was reasonably certain that Batman did not intend for The Source Room to be used for what it was currently being used for.

"Thanks, Mister Kuttler!" Kara replied, snapping Noah from his thoughts. "I think I'll do that! Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

The Calculator cast a disenchanted glimpse at the information that Mao Tenryu had given him that was just waiting to be perused. Still, in a rather warped display of camaraderie, he shook aside his tendencies, rose up from his chair, and followed Kara upstairs.

Cecilia, Dick, Lloyd, and Stephanie were all clustered around the television set as Kara and Noah entered the room.

"No way! No chance in hell. Those things have got to be fake!" Arrowette declared.

"They're real! Trust me! For the last time they're real!" Nightwing insisted.

"How the hell would you know?" Stephanie fired back despite the fact that she was also chewing her way through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Intensive observation, sprout." Nightwing replied. "_Intensive _observation."

"You are such a perv," Stephanie said tartly as Cissie shook her head in agreement.

"And what brings about such a vigilant debate on the topic of veracity?" Noah asked as Kara silently slid next to Lloyd.

"Wonder Woman's knockers," Lloyd replied as Stephanie handed him the bowl of popcorn. "An' I'm with Grayson on this one. Her waist may be freakishly disproportionate to the rest of her body but those thick legs of hers lead me to believe it's all genuine."

Cissie turned around with a mischievous grin on her face. "Geez, Lloyd. Sure you want to be making comments like that with your girlfriend all up on your arm like that?"

"Don't go lookin' for trouble just because you can't 'andle your body issues." Lloyd warned the archer as he lobbed a piece of popcorn at her. Cissie responded to the attack by catching the puffy kernel of corn with her mouth and chewing it with an exaggerated smile on her face. The Black Dog gave the archer a similar grin before offering the bowl to Kara. "Want some, pet?"

Kara made certain to scoot away from Lloyd a good foot or two before accepting the offering. "So have they gotten to picking the members of the new Justice League yet?" she asked as she scooped up a handful of munchables from the rapidly dwindling supply.

"Naw, they've just been sitting around talkin' about nothing." Stephanie replied. "Apparently they had a deal where they'd all take a year off from superheroing. Are Superchoad dork and Wonder Boobs stupid enough to believe that our boss would agree to do something like that?"

"I most certainly hope not," Cissie answered. "Jesus Christ, look at the size of those things!"

"Bloody hell! Can we get off the topic of the amazon's tatas?" Lloyd asked with quite a bit of exasperation.

"Actually I was looking at Superman's pecs," Cissie replied. "I see a lot of lower back problems in his future."

Noah shook his head as three of his four younger companions hooted with laughter.

"Hey, now!" Dick protested. "Say what you want about the warrior princess but let's keep the Superman comments to a minimum!"

"Aww," Stephanie fussed as she broke away from the screen again. "Is our commentary ruffling up your Superman underoos?"

"You own Superman knickers?" Lloyd sputtered while Cissie howled and Kara nearly choked on her popcorn.

"I was ten years old!" Dick shouted back. "Give it a goddamn rest, Spoiler!"

The Calculator knew that this was hardly the most productive use of his time but he couldn't deny that it was perversely entertaining. He continued his silent observation as the three most recognized heroes on the planet began to select the future members of the Justice League by analyzing the candidates one after the other. Never to shy away from a chance to deride and ridicule their peers, the other denizens of the Source Room offered their own insights about each nomination.

Candidate #3: Hal Jordan

"Bloody buggerin' hell, this is boring. Is this really how they're going to select their members?" Lloyd asked with quite a bit of skepticism. "Honestly?"

"Shut up!" Stephanie shouted. "I want to hear what they're saying about Hal! Go, Hal!" she cheered.

"I always thought Kyle was better," Dick fired back as he scooped out the last bits of popcorn from the bowl.

"Kyle's a goof," Stephanie bit back. "He's a lovable goof but still a goof. Hal's way better."

"I think they should go with John Stewart," Cissie threw out.

"Hey!" Kara shouted. "Did I ever tell you about the time I met John Stewart?"

"Yes, Kara. You told us all about how you used his ring!" Stephanie shouted back sourly. "Believe me, we know."

Kara frowned and turned her attention back to the screen.

Candidate #6: Dick Grayson

"Hey! You can't have Nightthing!" Stephanie squawked. "He's our Nightthing! Go find your own!"

Cissie booed as she launched a previously forgotten piece of popcorn at the image of Superman.

"He won't come." Batman's voice was clear as can be.

"What're you talking about?" Wonder Woman asked.

"He won't." Batman insisted.

"Damn right I won't," Dick said with an edge to his voice.

Candidate #11: Supergirl

"HA! Wonder Woman voted no! What a bitch!" Stephanie said as Cissie and Dick both began laughing.

"Forget Wonder Woman!" Kara said with a smidgen of distress in her voice. "What about Batman? Mr. Wayne could have been a little bit nicer about saying no!"

"I don't think Batman does nice," Stephanie answered back. "Besides, you should know good and hell well that he'd rather have you here with us!"

Kara smiled at her friend's compliment, her ego satiated.

"The JLA doesn't come close to deserving you."

Noah was quite surprised when neither Cecilia or Stephanie chose to respond when Kara failed to hide the blush that came about because of Lloyd's words.

Candidate #15: Bruce Wayne

This was the only evaluation during which the five hecklers remained absolutely silent. It took place while Bruce was attending to an unexpected transatlantic phone call. Superman turned to Wonder Woman, got a big frown on his All-American face, and held up a picture of the man who had saved his life on countless occasions and asked the Amazon princess if the man should be in or out.

Fortunately for those within The Source Room, Batman had enough to say on their behalf.

"Don't even bother taking the vote, Clark. I'll help choose the squad and aid with the construction of the headquarters but I refuse to play an active part in the League. I have more pressing concerns."

"Bruce," Wonder Woman pleaded. "Just take a moment to reconsider. . ."

"I've had a year to reconsider, Diana. I've already given J'onn my slot. The two of you will either accept my decision or I will withdraw from the league altogether. That is your choice."

Cissie and Stephanie turned to one another as both Superman and Wonder Woman reluctantly agreed.

"Our boss is the shit," Cissie said with a wicked grin before the two of them exchanged high-fives.

* * *

The Calculator had managed to build up a comment or two on the tip of his tongue throughout the first few moments of the meeting but he chose to swallow it. It was only recently that Jim Gordon had allowed his presence within the commissioner's office and Noah was still leery of the possibility that the decision could still be rescinded. After all, only a fool would be able to miss the narrowing of the old man's eyes whenever he took a little too long to explain what he was trying to say. Only someone without any hint of awareness could tell that Jim Gordon would have infinitely preferred to hear Oracle's voice at the other end of the communications line.

"All this garbage about tattoos and worldwide conspiracies," Harvey Bullock griped as he took a hard chomp into his toothpick. "Why the hell should we even be bothering with this, Commish?"

The commissioner sighed in a matter befitting an impatient father explaining to his child that they couldn't go out for ice cream at two o'clock in the morning (a legitimate metaphor, as far as Noah was concerned, given Bullock's husky stature). "We may not be looking into this specific case but we're working with the people who are, Harvey. Now I allowed you to attend this meeting under the condition that you would keep your attitude to a minimum. . ."

"All right! All right!" Bullock submitted, eager to shake the commissioner's spotlight. "I didn't say a word!"

"Ha! Ha! Inspector Ben & Jerry got owned!" Robin said with a chortle.

"Shut the hell up, Tweety!" Bullock fired back, earning laughs from both Black Dog and Nightwing.

"Calculator has been working on deciphering the data on the thumb drive that was given to us by Slade Wilson," Batman continued on, completely disregarding the petty arguing going on around him.

Noah was momentarily taken aback. He had honestly expected a lead-in that was a bit more drawn out seeing as how he was still within the inner recesses of Wayne Manor. Still, he liked to think that he recovered quite nicely and soon began to launch into his findings.

"The vast majority of the data on the thumb drive was nothing more than a collection of digital dossiers consisting of the vital statistics of dozens of known metahumans, each of them with either a criminal record or a long-standing history of social ambivalence and isolation. It didn't take long at all to discover that the thumb drive consisted of nothing but pirated data, information previously withdrawn from a larger database either through. . ."

"Well, of course it's been stolen!" Gordon barked out with a noticeable degree of irritation. "The question is where this Deathstroke character got it from!"

The Calculator couldn't help himself from turning slightly red-faced, both from his minor slip-up and the commissioner's overly hostile reaction. He took a moment to regain his composure while silently thanking the fact that no one in the commissioner's office could see his face.

"The data's point of origin was the extensive data house encoded into the Brother Eye satellite. Whoever was responsible for that initial thievery must have transferred that data into the information banks of the factory in Russia that Deathstroke and Ravager infiltrated."

"And the two of them managed to fetch the data from the factory before the people there were able to clear out." Black Dog concluded. "Pretty bloody impressive."

"It's a damn sight better than what we've managed to do." Nightwing grudgingly admitted.

"So what are we thinkin' here?" Bullock asked. "Is this just some fruit loop trying to recruit people through the psychopathic want ads?"

"Looks to be about the size of it," Black Dog replied. "C.C., you said that the vast majority of the data came from the Brother Eye. What about the rest of it?"

"I'm glad that you asked, Black Dog," Noah said gratefully. He had never been good at preparing smooth transitions and was quite relieved that Lloyd had managed to pick up the ball for him. "The other portion of the data consisted of schematics for something called Project Awaken. There was little else in the thumb drive that could explain it with greater detail save for the fact that the operation was planned to be based out of Philadelphia. Going on the assumption that those plans we're carried out, I've spent the past several hours examining both recent property purchases and sketchy criminal reports and have managed to narrow the list of the possible locations for the project down to three."

"Is one of them The Wachovia Center?" Arrowette asked dully.

Bullock sniggered. "Yeah, it's not like anybody's going there after Iverson got traded."

Noah wisely ignored what he suspected to be a sports reference that he wouldn't have been able to pick up even with the help of a crane. "Given our many near misses when confronting our unknown aggressor, I recommend that we should investigate this lead as soon as possible."

"I agree." said Batman. "Black Dog, you'll be in charge of the investigation in Philadelphia. You'll be accompanied by Robin and Arrowette."

"Diamond, boss." Lloyd replied as he leapt off the file cabinet he had perched himself upon almost immediately after the briefing had started.

"The second team will consist of Kara and Nightwing. They will be responsible for the standard Gotham patrols and will remain on call in case the investigation team encounters any unforeseen difficulties. Any communications between the second unit and the G.C.P.D. will be brought to Calculator and passed on to the necessary recipient."

"That sounds just fine to me, Batman." Gordon said.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Arrowette interrupted. "I could be wrong on this but I think you left somebody out when you were handing out assignments, boss."

"Hey, yeah!" Robin blurted out. "You know, you're _always _doing that! I want to do that!"

"I'm going to be following up on the lead that was given to us by Mao Tenryu," Batman replied in order to save both himself and everyone else from what was sure to be an extravagant ranting session.

"Alone?" Arrowette asked with a hint of concern. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"I won't be working this alone," Batman answered. "Mao has arranged a collaboration with one of Lloyd's old compatriots. I've been assured that they're on the level despite my past experiences."

"Yeah, well that just doesn't sit well enough with me," Nightwing said conclusively. "Kara, looks like you're going to go solo tonight. I'm going with Batman."

"I didn't ask for your assistance, Nightwing." Batman said, the extensive face mask failing to hide his irritation.

"Uh oh. Looks like trouble in paradise," Bullock whispered as Nightwing blocked his father's path to the open window.

"I'm going whether you like it or not." Nightwing insisted through clenched molars. "Now it doesn't take a master detective, which I am, lest we forget, to figure out just where you happen to be stalking off to! I know your history with that witch like the back of my hand and I wouldn't let you just go off to confront her without me even if I did trust the people that Mao sent to help you out."

It didn't take a high-resolution, dust-repellent SLR camera lens to see the hesitation in Batman's face. However, the lens did help Noah see that the elder detective made no attempt to remove Nightwing's hand from his forearm.

"You're about to go romping through the desert with Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid," Nightwing said with a grin. "Hate to say it, Green Hornet, but you're going to be needing Kato."

Batman paused, possibly in response to his son's genuine offer of assistance but possibly because he didn't have the slightest clue of what Nightwing had meant (Noah quite suspected the latter). The detective turned to Kara, who remained seated on the file cabinet next to the one that Lloyd had sat on until a few moments ago. "Is that all right with you?"

"I can handle it," Kara said with confidence. "Just be sure that you two be careful."

Nightwing gave the young woman quite the suave grin. "Don't worry, Kare Bear. I'll make sure to pack my Superman undies."

"Superman undies?" Bullock exclaimed before forcibly shoving his surprise aside while The Dynamic Duo made their departure with The Black Dog close behind. "Humph, Green Hornet and Kato, my fat ass. More like Rocky and Bullwinkle."

* * *

Despite nearly 16 months of tweaking and experimentation, Noah was still trying to solve the mystery of how his visual feeds still continued to fall into disarray after enduring Lloyd's teleportation. He didn't encounter similar problems with Kara or Stephanie's equipment whenever they flew at high speeds. Was The Black Dog's preferred method of transportation really that different from light-speed velocity? Could the malfunction have something to do with Mister Thomas's bizarre physiology? The whole affair had left the master hacker and overall answer man with quite a bit of badly channeled frustration.

On the bright side, he still had Nightwing's good-natured banter to entertain him while he worked to repair the damage.

"See, this is why I really chose to go with the full-body outfit. There's just less risk of sand or water or God knows what else getting into places that they really shouldn't be getting into."

"Well, that is entirely far too much information upon a topic I wanted to learn less than nothing about." Noah fired back while continuing to work to find the proper frequency.

"Calculator, if all you're going to do when you banter with me is complain," Nightwing shot back, "then maybe you should just go chat with one of your friends." Dramatic pause. "Oh, wait a minute. . ."

"Yes, yes, how very droll," the hacker replied.

"Calculator, I hope your attempt to reestablish an unnecessary video feed has not taken precedent over determining the current location of our contacts," Batman warned.

"Not to worry, Batman," said Noah calmly as he began to zero in on the proper visual tracking array. "Satellite Omega-4 shows two lavishly costumed fellows just recently getting out of a U.N. model DPV just 125 meters north-northeast of your present location. Not to mention that I will determine the proper frequency. . . right. . . now! Ah! Oh my, that is quite a lot of sand."

"Well, we are in the middle of the Turkish desert, C.C." replied Nightwing as he playfully waved his left middle finger in front of Noah's camera. "I hope you weren't expecting a thriving metropolis."

"Are the contacts on the move?" asked Batman.

"They're heading your way as we speak," Calculator answered.

"So what is the deal with these guys?" Nightwing asked as he watched Batman strap on his night-vision goggles. "Is this good guy stint really legit 'cause all my past experiences with either one of these guys consisted mostly of their trying to kill me."

"Every recent bit of information I've managed to dig up about them seems to say so, Nightwing. They had proven to be quite the thorn in the side of the Society while it was attempting to recruit new members. Doctor Psycho in particular grew quite infuriated whenever he would hear how their activities had thrown a monkey wrench into the Society's over-grand designs."

"Well, that's a good sign," admitted Nightwing. "Still, I can't imagine that it would take much to piss off that whacked-out midget."

The Calculator sighed. "No, I can safely say that it doesn't. However, both Black Dog and Mister Tenryu have both vouched for the integrity of the group's leader. I highly doubt that the both of them would be prone to such a grievous error of judgment. . ."

"SHIT!" Nightwing's voice rang out over the communications link right before the sound of a gunshot caused Noah to jump back in surprise. "Well, I'll save the 'I told you so' for later! C.C.! Where is that little bast. . . No, wait a minute! I see him!"

"Nightwing! Hold your position!" Batman ordered just before he rushed off to follow his fuming partner. "Calculator! Can you weed into their communication devices and tell them to stand down?"

"It's going to take a little time!" Noah answered nervously, his fingers already racing across his keyboard. "Of all the impetuous. . . is there some biological mandate amongst you hero types that compels you to engage in these pointless skirmishes?"

"Don't know, C.C.!" Nightwing answered without even bothering to slow down. "I stopped trying to figure it out after the thirtieth or fortieth occasion."

The acrobat's path was suddenly blocked by a muscular fellow adorned in an outfit that was quite similar to Batman's save for the fact that the color scheme consisted mostly of different shades of light brown and dark orange. The telltale perforations in the man's gauntlets was a dead giveaway to Nightwing that the gloves were for more than just protection but whatever hidden weapons within them remained sheathed.

It didn't take long at all for Nightwing to discover that the masked man knew what he was doing, at least far more so than he had when they last crossed paths. Although the weight of the desert sand put a damper on his own arsenal, Nightwing couldn't help but be mildly impressed by the skill and proficiency that his opponent put into fending off and parrying his attacks.

The man in the cape and cowl was on an entirely different train of thought. "Look! Will you stop trying to hit me!" he shouted as he continued to block and dodge. "Truce! TRUCE!!"

"Tell that to your partner who tried to puncture my cranium with that sniper rifle!" Nightwing said without missing a beat in his offensive.

"Aw, quit your whinging, Batman Junior!" the man's partner shouted back while continuing to stand a safe distance away. "You know I would never have missed that badly if I was really trying to kill you. I was just checking to see that this offer was legit. This wouldn't be the first time we walked right into a situation that was just a set-up for somebody who was trying to cash in on the bounty on our heads."

Nightwing broke off his stalemate with the masked man and casually stepped backwards while keeping his eyes on the marksman. "No problem," he said between deep breaths. "It's completely understandable." He turned back to his former combatant. "Nice moves, Catman."

Thomas Blake cast his bewildered gaze back and forth between his trigger-happy partner and the man who was supposed to be a friendly contact but had seemed so determined to knock his block off just ten seconds before.

"You mean to tell me the both of you _meant _to do this?! That's. . . absolute insanity! We couldn't have just walked up and _talked _with each other? And how about informing me when you're going to just go ahead with a wildly inappropriate change of plans!"

Floyd Lawton, the assassin known as Deadshot, gave his partner and friend a bemused grin without losing the half-spent stogie on the left side of his mouth.

"Come on, Blake! Where the hell's the fun in that?"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

(Matt stops to stare at the impatient glares of his dozens and dozens of fans)

Well, um, where to start. . . Sorry if the latest issue came out a little later than anticipated. I've been caught up with moving _yet again_. I've been pretty proud of the pace I've been keeping since I came back to Memphis in May and I'm going to work hard to keep up with the biweekly updates. I'm not about to start and promise anything but I've got some vacation time coming and that presents a fine opportunity to catch up on the week I fell behind.

On a lighter note (kind of), I took some time out of my busy schedule today to read through the first six issues of Frank Miller's _All-Star Batman and Robin_ in one fell swoop and although it hardly holds the gravitas of _The Dark Knight Returns _or even _Sin City_, it is, for some unknown reason, entertaining to me. One thing I noticed in particular that ever since the first appearance of "I'm the God Damn Batman!", Mr. Miller seems quite keen on repeating or rehashing the line at every possible opportunity. It's as if the old whacko is poking fun at us comic book fans for devoting so much time and attention on such a ridiculous line.

I've got nothing against such an intention but I really wish Frank would do something about poor Dick. The poor kid's name is half of the marquee and he's been trapped in the cave doing nothing for the past three issues. Here's hoping he found something more appetizing than rats to eat.

Speaking of The Dynamic Duo, maybe I should get going with the next issue preview.

* * *

Issue #40 Preview

Batman, Nightwing, Catman, and Deadshot. Can these four vigilantes share a covert mission together without driving each other crazy? Okay, maybe it's not quite as entertaining as Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau but it's safe to say that this arrangement is going to give Noah a headache. And just wait until Cissie, Lloyd, and Stephanie uncover the mystery behind Project Awaken! Watch our friendly neighborhood computer nerd suffer in the next chapter of _The Misfits_: Strange Bedfellows. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	40. Strange Bedfellows

Issue #40

Strange Bedfellows

Contrary though it may seem, Noah Kuttler was not alone in his quest of seeking order in a setting where chaos undoubtedly reign supreme. His invaluable cohort was a mostly affable but occasionally acerbic gentleman who was even more interested in creating a sanctuary for Bruce Wayne and his supporters than he was. However, though their ultimate objectives may have been the same, the manner and means they employed were seemingly as different as night and day. While Noah provided satellite surveillance, secured communication lanes, and the finest information gathering services that money could buy, his partner bestowed his charges with well-prepared meals, a friendly, yet critical ear, and, in the case of Stephanie Brown, the service of properly making a bed after the previous attempts by the bed's occupant had been deemed to be woefully insufficient.

"Do you anticipate any further difficulties between Master Bruce and his associates, Mister Kuttler?" Alfred asked as he made his way into the bowels of the Batcave. Noah had frequently insisted that Alfred call him Noah but the hacker soon found that the caretaker of Wayne Manor seemed incapable of the task. He had long since accepted the middle-line compromise of "Mr. Kuttler".

Noah sighed as he turned away from his monitor, wearily shook his head. "I honestly have no idea. The testosterone measuring contest between Grayson and Lawton has removed every bit of confidence from my ability to anticipate their actions." The hacker groaned as he plucked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose and began to clean them with a handkerchief. "Why in the name of heaven did they have to engage in such infantile behavior? I can practically feel my nerves fraying!"

"Now, now, Mister Kuttler, this is hardly the time or situation for emotional trifles." the butler calmly replied while placing a silver tray on a table standing just across from Noah's work station. The serving dish held a variety of items that momentarily attracted the hacker's attention. The two blueberry scones in particular appeared to be practically begging to be consumed in a hasty manner. "I anticipated that a soothing dose of Darjeeling would be far more suitable than another cup of coffee."

"You anticipate correctly," Noah replied as he tore into his first scone while watching Alfred tend to cup and kettle. "My goodness, Alfred, can you honestly believe what just happened? Who exchanges greetings with punches and gunfire?"

Alfred handed Noah the cup of tea. "As bizarre as this may sound, I believe you're taking this far too seriously, Mister Kuttler. No one was hurt and this is hardly the first instance of such an altercation. Are you certain that there is not another cause for this undue amount of anxiety?"

Noah mulled the question over as he took a sip of the black tea, the warmth of the peaceful brew soothing his throat. "Well, I won't deny that I have my doubts concerning this recent alliance. Though I always considered Thomas Blake to be quite the straight arrow during my days as a freelancer, that opinion may very well have been blinded by the rest of my clients. And Lawton may as well be a ticking time bomb with corroded lungs. Though everything I have managed to discover about their partnership tells me that Blake is able to keep his partner under control, both the nature of our target and the fact that both Catman and Deadshot have prices on their heads are potential recipes for disaster."

"Well, it appeared to me that the terms of the agreement were not made by Mister Blake or Mister Lawton but by their employer."

"Yes, I am well aware of that," replied Noah as he stole half a glance at his monitor to check to see if anything needed his attention. "And I am equally aware of the fact that both Lloyd and Mao Tenryu believe that she is trustworthy. However, I will say right here and now that no employer reference could possibly eliminate my reservations when it comes to this."

The caretaker of Wayne Manor rose to his full height. "Mister Kuttler, do you take me for some unbelievable fool?"

Noah nearly spat out his tea, an impulse that would have been phenomenally foolish considering who had made it. It was a known fact that Alfred Pennyworth held little sympathy for those who callously dismissed his efforts in the kitchen.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mister Kuttler, I was confronting egocentric comments and obscure double-talk when you were nothing but a gleam in your mother's eye. Now I have no qualms with leaving my tray at the table and leaving you to carry on your business if that is what you desire but I will not tolerate such a pithy response to an honesty inquiry. You will either answer honestly or politely decline to speak. There is no middle ground."

Noah gently placed his cup of tea back down, wondering how many times Bruce Wayne had been placed into this uncomfortable situation. It was hardly the first time that the butler who asked for next to nothing had asked him for more than he was comfortable with providing. The first demand had occurred nearly 35 years ago during a function at Wayne Manor which had been co-hosted by his father and Thomas Wayne. The event was held in order to celebrate the approval of a federal science and technology grant designed to finance a proposal formulated by his father and endorsed by Mister Wayne. The event meant a great deal to his family but he, a six-year-old boy who had long since grown weary of formal occasions, quickly grew far more interested in perusing the contents of the Wayne Manor kitchen.

It's amazing how the memory of being dragged out from a kitchen by the ear and into the middle of the Wayne Manor atrium can stick with you while so many more pleasant memories are left to be forgotten. Long-term memory can be funny that way.

Alfred Pennyworth had held the same post for 42 years, a mind-boggling achievement for someone who had flitted from project to project and post to post ever since he had graduated from college. Noah considered the level of commitment and diligence that it took to perform such a feat to be both a source of inspiration and something that was down-right frightening.

And that, of course, led to what was really on the mind of Noah Kuttler.

"How would Barbara Gordon have responded to what just happened?"

Alfred, to his credit, wasted no time in responding.

"And this question naturally leads into your long-standing suspicion that Master Bruce would rather have Miss Gordon at the post than you."

"It isn't a suspicion if you know it to be the truth," replied Noah.

"Well, since you now seem interested in receiving my honest opinion then I will give it to you," Alfred said in an unwavering manner. "Master Bruce has put it upon you to ensure the safety of all those that live under this roof. Though I may not approve of your methods I cannot deny that you have performed this duty without fail and with great success. If you don't mind my saying, sir, perhaps your time would be better focused upon occasionally admiring your successes rather than fixating upon your failures or the accomplishments of someone else."

Noah gave the butler a slow nod before taking another sip of his tea. Advice such as that was difficult for him to take in but he had no trouble with receiving it.

"I knew I should have taken that second dosage of Zoloft before I got started today," he said before turning back to his work terminal.

Alfred rewarded him a faint chuckle before seeing himself out.

* * *

_Kirklareli_

Thomas Blake drummed his fingers across the warped wood of the table that he had been sitting at while he tried to drone out the seemingly never-ending wave of complaints that Floyd Lawton was throwing his way.

Thomas Blake knew he had come a long way from the pudgy, misogynistic dullard that had been wasting his life away in Star City only thirty months ago. However, the incident in the desert had done a fine job in reminding him of the many shortcomings and reservations that had plagued the back of his mind before he chose to travel to the African jungles in order to discover his purpose. His time in the southern forests of Tanzania had been the most hellish and rewarding time in his life. Though he still occasionally questioned his purpose and his intentions, he took a great deal of pride in what he had done and what he had become.

"We're really stickin' our necks out here, Blake! Putting our heads on a platter just because you want to track down one of your former bedtime buddies! Hey! Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?"

"No, not really," Catman admitted with a voice that was a great deal more subdued than his counterpart's. "Maybe I'd be able to listen a little better if I wasn't so worried about the fact that you're calling attention to us in a place that may or may not tolerate people speaking English."

"Oh, screw them, Blake!" Lawton growled as he bit into his cigar. "You might be caught up in wanting to save Christmas and babies and puppies but I still remember that we've got some very powerful people who are very interested in seeing us dead and the hot-bodied bitch that you're suddenly so gung-ho to go chasing after is right on the top of that list!"

"And the only people that are higher up on Talia's hit-list just happen to be the people we're working with. That means we have something in common. That's a good thing, remember?"

"And that may be the only thing we have in common," Lawton answered with a hiss. "May I remind you that these aren't some run-of-the-mill mercenaries that the head honcho was able to put on retainer? This is the original Robin and the god damned Batman, two people that have put us behind bars more times than I care to remember while I'm sober! I've got a daughter that I have to look after, Blake!"

"If she says they'll play us fair then I believe they'll play us fair. If I believe they'll play us fair then that means you _should _believe it too."

Deadshot pulled away from the argument with a groan of discontent. He stabbed at the bar table with his cigar while he picked up his bottle of Jack and gunned down a couple swallows. "Fine! Fine! But I'd like to remind you that our boss is a nut job and I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' when this all goes to shit!"

* * *

"Why couldn't we have just brought Harper or Dinah with us?" Dick said while holding the door open and allowing his father to walk inside. "Hell, I would have been more comfortable with Cecilia. We don't know a lot about these guys and what we do know doesn't make me feel all warm and tingly!"

"I would have thought your little bonding session in the desert would have eased off your reservations," Bruce replied without even looking Dick's way.

"The customary unnecessary fight can only do so much," Dick replied with a whisper. "Look, I know you're all gung-ho about digging down into the dirt but I just think that this case has too many unknown variables, particularly when you throw in just who we're going after."

"Black Dog gave me his word that we can trust them and I trust his judgment." Batman calmly explained to his fidgety partner. "If you can't trust him then you can feel free to trust me. And by the way, perhaps you shouldn't be expressing your doubts about our colleagues while we're standing in front of them."

Dick Grayson turned away from his mentor and met the stares of Thomas Blake and Floyd Lawton.

The necessary moment of awkward silence proceeded as scheduled while the four vigilantes decided, amongst themselves, the matter of who would be the first to speak.

"Batman. . . and Nightwing?" Blake asked, surprising himself by being the first to speak.

"I've been told that we can trust the both of you to maintain confidentiality." Bruce settled in while taking a seat across from Blake. "You have my word that we will do the same."

Blake leaned forward, an open invitation. Lawton, seeing his partner's gesture, rolled his eyes while using his spare arm to push his friend back. "Back the truck up, lantern jaw. What makes you think we're here to see you?"

"You made a bad decision stopping at the E-key just so you could take a shot at me." Bruce coolly answered. "It would have been far more judicious of you to wait until you got to the paper roll. You would have had a higher ground and an easier shot."

_The fuck?! _Lawton didn't have the slightest clue where to start deciphering that little comment. _What the hell is E. . ._

And then a chill rolled down his spine.

_Oh God, the typewriter. The giant, __fuckin__' typewriter_.

"How you doin', Batman?"

"Hey, how about keeping the voice down!" Dick shushed the stogie-smoking hired gun as he took the seat next to Bruce.

Lawton responded by thrusting his half-full bottle of whisky towards the table's two new occupants. "Relax, Boy Blunder. Either of you drink?"

"Let's just get down to business," Blake said in an attempt to maintain an air of professionalism. "We've got a whole lot to discuss if we're going to get this right."

"Agreed," Bruce said as he extended his hand. "Bruce Wayne."

Blake eagerly accepted the gesture. "Thomas Blake. This may make me sound like a hypocrite but I must admit that it's a privilege to be working with you."

"Yeah, I'm feelin' the warm and fuzzies too," Lawton grumbled as he jammed his cigar back into his gullet. "Let's just hurry up with the dirt dishin'."

"If you don't mind my asking," Dick broke in. "Just what is your particular interest in this case? From what I've heard it seems that you're putting a lot on the line here."

Lawton now offered Blake to take a swig of whiskey. Blake responded with a slow burn before unnecessarily waving the offer away. "We've had our share of run-ins with both the League of Assassins and these tattoos that Noah was so eager to tell us about and none of them have gone too well. I would have preferred to avoid another confrontation but recent circumstances have forced my hand."

"And those circumstances are?" asked Bruce.

"Take a wild guess." Lawton interrupted once again.

Blake threw his partner another annoyed and ultimately fruitless glare. "Are you familiar with an assassin named Cheshire?"

"More than I would have liked," Dick darkly replied.

"She's the latest big name to be placed onto the League of Assassins payroll," Blake explained. "She also happens to be the mother of my child and I would have a considerably easier time being able to sleep at night knowing that my son is out of her clutches."

Dick slumped his head until his forehead was at risk of colliding with the table in front of him. "God damn it. Not again."

"I beg your pardon?" Blake asked, obviously intrigued.

Dick shook his head profusely. "Never mind. Dear God, never mind. It's another story for another time."

"We have four hours until we begin our infiltration." Bruce said with just enough sternness in his voice to successfully bring the conversation back on track. "Mister Blake, if you're willing, I would like to take a moment to review the anticipated field of operations."

"Certainly," Blake replied before turning to his stewing cohort. "I'll take it that you wish to play no part in this?"

Lawton confirmed his partner's theory by hastily rising from his chair. "Just tell me who I can shoot and we'll be peachy," he fired back as he walked out of the bar.

* * *

_Philadelphia_

Lloyd would have really preferred it if Noah had waited just another five minutes before he decided to see how he was doing. The interruption was seemed to be something akin to being pushed into a cold river while you were busy working up the courage to leap in on your own. Granted, Lloyd didn't have a great deal of experience either in the field of being shoved in a river or being with someone who would shove him in but he presumed that such an event would cause the chilly prickles poking away in his gut. He also knew that now was hardly the most opportune moment to be thinking about himself.

Of course, that admission and thirty-nine cents could have bought him a stamp. Or was it forty-one cents?

He knew he had behaved like a child. Batman deserved a representative who could maintain the utmost professionalism and instead he gave him an argumentative infant who didn't even bother to stick around and accept what he had been asked to receive. It shouldn't have been necessary for Kara to handle things on her own and he should have given her a better apology than spouting off some tripe about not being good enough for the Jackoff League. Finally, as deservedly pissed off as he was at the old man, he shouldn't have allowed Mao's foolish decision to be an excuse for his own anger. Ironically enough, the old man had taught him better than that.

Yes, Lloyd knew all about these things and yet here he was not doing a single thing about it and he sure as shit didn't need Noah Kuttler tromping in and reminding him.

"I'm perfectly all right, answer man," the younger man said, his distracted tone mostly due to his ongoing "sweep" of the area around him. Using his telepathy to focus upon his own eldritch energy, Lloyd combined two of his more unnatural abilities in order to dig out traces of other foreign sources of energy. The black-and-silver sheen from his body seemed to mix in with the darkness around him, the thin field of energy seemingly serving as some kind of unnecessary camouflage as he searched the open field.

He found nothing. Not even a suspicious mound of cow manure.

"There's nothing 'ere, C.C." Lloyd crossly reported. "We'll be moving on to spot #3 as soon as the two little bints get back."

Thankfully, Cecilia and Stephanie returned almost immediately after Lloyd's pronouncement and Noah's confirmation. Even from a hundred feet away, the young man could clearly see that the former was carrying a bag in her left hand while be escorted to the ground by an emerald platform connected to Stephanie's ring by a thin stream of energy. The latter, on the other hand, appeared to be empty-handed, though the slight smatter of Cheese Whiz on her cheek provided enough evidence of her wrongdoing.

"Y'know, I don't think Hal Jordan and Ollie Queen would have found the time to go eat at Gino's if the Justice League sent _them _to Philly." Bad mood or no, Lloyd couldn't quite purge all the good humor from his voice.

"That's what makes us unique," explained Robin as she wiped at her cheek.

"And we did get you one," Arrowette elaborated as she stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out a horrifically greasy and frighteningly delicious-looking sandwich.

"And besides," the Green Lantern continued, "I'll wager dollars to donuts that you found just about as much stuff to be suspicious about in this place as I did."

"Maybe so," Lloyd said sourly, as he took the sandwich from the archer. He gave the potential dinner option a lengthy sniff. The inhalation caused his neck to crane in closer while his brain started counting calories. "However, that still leaves one more place on the list and may I remind you that time is of the essence?"

"You may," Robin replied politely. "So let's get movin'! You can eat some of that on the way!"

"I'm riding with Lloyd this time," Arrowette declared as she scooted closer to the operation's field leader. "Jesus Christ, why is it always in the last place we look? I say that the next time we're given a list of places to check out we go and pick the last place first."

"That wouldn't work," Robin announced as she began to levitate a foot or two off the ground. "Fate would just construe that to be the first place on the list and reorganize it so that what we were looking for would be on the first sequential place on the list."

Arrowette couldn't help but be momentarily puzzled before she began working to decipher Stephanie's bizarre brand of logic. "Well, that would still be better than the system we have now if we were going by that frame of logic. This way we could just skip going to all the other places on the list just by going to the first sequential location on the list."

"No, Arrowette, you're missing the point," the other girl explained while Lloyd used his telekinesis to lift the aforementioned crime fighter into the air alongside him. "The sequential order of the list is irrelevant. What matters is the inevitability of having to search each place on the list before we get to the right location."

"What? Who says?"

"Um, fate?"

Arrowette gave off a derisory snort of disapproval as both she and Lloyd flew behind Stephanie on the way to the final location, an Aramark shipping warehouse located on the cusp of Center City. "Well, that's a lame explanation."

Lloyd bit into his cheese steak while keeping his attention focused on the quasi-metaphysical argument taking place before him. After all, such ridiculous squabbles were far easier to endure than having to own up to his own responsibilities.

Dick was grateful for Noah's genuine efforts towards leading him to Kirklareli's points of interest but he soon discovered that the few sights that Istanbul's closest neighbor had to offer failed to interest him in the least. He found himself back at the bar with two hours left to kill and no clue on where to start his slaying. Far too restless to sleep, the original Boy Wonder wandered out to the back patio while pondering the potential health risks of Turkish alcohol.

* * *

The good news was that there was somebody there that he could possibly have a conversation with. The bad news was that someone was Deadshot.

Floyd Lawton appeared to be well on his way to making himself more comfortable. His boot-covered feet were perched on top of a table that didn't appear to be capable of holding the added weight. The lingering smoke from the half-spent cigar in his mouth was working diligently to make the outside air as foul and polluted as what lay inside the bar. The mercenary's bottle of Jack had either been drained or put away for another time (and Dick strongly hoped that the latter option was true) and Lawton was now wetting his whistle with a bottle of one of the less suspicious-looking brands of beer that the bartender had for sale.

Starting up a conversation with his erstwhile partner was one of the last possible things Dick wanted to do and, judging from the look on Lawton's face, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

"Come here to subtly remind me that you don't trust me, Wonder Bread?" Lawton grumbled. "Don't worry. I cracked that little Boy Scout code a long time ago."

Dick didn't even bother to hide his heavy sigh. _Any port in a storm_, he thought before taking a seat.

"Well, then how about you give me a reason why I should?" Dick replied in what he believed to be a calm and controlled tone. "That way I won't have to go through the trouble of telling you again."

Lawton took a puff from his cigar before yanking it out and pointing it at the younger man. "I've lost the desire to sell people out, kiddo, particularly to someone who wants my head on a platter. I've already on too many people's shit lists for just that reason. You treat me and Blake square and we'll do the same in return. You've got my word on that."

"You and Blake, huh?" Dick said, his voice indicating at least a slight interest in the topic at hand. "I never pegged you as someone who'd be interested in looking out for somebody else."

Lawton grunted as he let out a stream of smoke that wafted into the early morning sky before fading from sight. "Yeah, well, I'm new at this whole Three Musketeers bullshit so I'm tryin' to overcompensate."

The younger man chuckled. "Well, let me just say that you're in luck because you happen to be in the presence of the long-standing king of partnership overcompensation. You got any questions then I'm sure that I can answer them."

The assassin looked to be somewhat surprised to discover that he was laughing with the other man. "You want a beer, kid? The stuff smells like rat piss but it's got a pretty good kick."

Dick waved the offer aside. "Gotta stay focused," he explained.

Lawton shrugged as he took a heady swig. "So I'm guessin' that your reason for being here is pretty much the same as mine?"

"If your reason for being here is that you're keeping an eye on your partner so some conniving little bitch won't sink her claws into him."

Lawton's eyes widened. "Ah shit, man! You're tellin' me that Jade got her hooks into your old man?"

"No! NO!" Dick replied quickly while simultaneously repressing the shudder that came from such a revolting possibility. "I'm talkin' about Cheshire's boss."

"Ah! So Talia and your old man really did get together. And here I was thinking Mirror Master was full of shit when he said that."

Now it was Dick's turn to be stunned. "What? How do you? Wait a minute. . . Do you. . . do you mean to tell me that you guys really do gossip about us? I thought that was just an old wife's tale!"

"Well, there's only so many times you can talk about the Sox and the Yanks before it starts drivin' ya nuts! Still, that ain't important. What I want to know is just what the hell you meant when you said you knew Cheshire 'only too well'?"

Dick needed a moment to work out the image of Ra's Al-Ghul, Count Vertigo, and Darkseid huddled in a corner drinking beer and discussing Power Girl's measurements before he could even think of forming a proper reply. "Well, the last time I dealt with her was when Arsenal and I were chasing her across half of Southeastern Asia. . ."

"Oh, yeah," Lawton interrupted, "the whole thing with Harper and the kid. God damn, it took months to get that whacked out bitch to shut up about that."

Grayson didn't even bother to be surprised about Lawton's knowledge of the dramatic first few months of the life of Lian Harper. "And now you're telling me your buddy Blake fathered a child with her too?"

"Yeah, you think somebody would have been smart enough to close off that bitch's gene pool after your buddy went in and took a dip." Lawton said with a shake of his head. "No offense."

"None taken."

The two of them sat in a surprisingly companionable silence for a moment or two before Lawton slid his feet off the table and rose out of his seat. He handed the half-full bottle of beer to Grayson as he worked out a kink in his neck.

"Look, Nightwing. The bottom line is that I've got a kid in Star City that I want to make sure will never want for anything and that includes an old man she can be proud of. I'm still not sure if she can be proud of a vigilante but it's the only thing that I can think of to do with myself. Know what I mean?"

"Only too well."

Dick took a drink from the bottle Lawton had given him.

* * *

Arrowette had to admit that the run to Geno's was a little peculiar even under their off-kilter philosophy of operations. Thankfully, things quickly returned to an even keel once they arrived at the Aramark factory. Specifically, they had managed to stumble upon _yet another _rogue group of Professor Magnus's Metal Men, her life was once again in danger, and Noah's nervous hissings were quickly driving her towards a migraine.

"Gold is right behind you! Look out!"

The archer found the warning to be quite unnecessary as she rolled away from the grasp of Gold, an android that could stretch his body to phenomenal lengths. Her right hand was digging into her quiver even before she came out of her tuck and her flare arrow was ready to be set to the string by the time she was back on her feet. Closing her eyes and turning her head as she fired, the blinding burst of light succeeded in disorienting her durable opponent while leaving her free to reach into her bag of tricks once again.

"No! That arrow won't do it any damage!"

Cecilia rolled her eyes while priming her C-4 arrow to readiness. Turning away from the stumbling Gold, she cast her eyes on Lead, who was currently pestering Lloyd with the help of Mercury and Platinum.

"Black Dog! Switch!" she warned before firing another flawless shot. As she expected, her notice gave her partner more than enough time to shield himself from the blast, thus allowing her to enjoy the sight of the explosive detonating the moment it made contact with Lead's chest. Though the explosion itself did little damage, the accompanied heat played havoc with the robot's sturdy structural integrity. However, as happy as she was with her shot, she made certain to be on the move before a sizzling wave of energy could burn her to cinders.

Gold, on the other hand, was not as fortunate when it came to dodging Lloyd's blast. The concentrated burst of energy quickly overwhelmed the android's elasticity, an event that caused a large portion of the robot to demolecularize right before Cecilia's eyes.

"Thank you!" she cheerily called out to her powerful partner.

Her next step was to pull out two regular, steel-tip arrows from her quiver and placing them onto the string. She fired the arrows straight at the crimson automaton known as Mercury, seemingly undeterred that the projectiles did not but harmlessly dive into the robot's liquid-like frame.

"Be sure to put your mask on, Cecilia! Remember that robot's ambient vapors put you into the hospital during your last encounter."

The sheer volume behind Calculator's latest unnecessary warning almost caused her to lose her footing as she landed on top of one of a storage bin. _I think I would remember it better than you would, _the young woman thought irritably while taking the necessary second-and-a-half to strap the gas mask over her nose and mouth. _You weren't the one who needed to take those blood pressure pills for a month!_

The newly-found high ground was just what she needed as Mercury came streaming towards her, his corrosive physiology leaving enormous acid burns upon everything its' body touched.

"I believe that it would be most beneficial if you continued your retreat, Arrowette," Calculator informed her. "You are not equipped with the necessary firepower to cause Mercury any significant damage."

_Now there's some fine-quality encouragement_, Cissie silently fumed as she pulled out another arrow from her quiver. Just as she did with Gold, she aimed her shot at the base of the elongated android just as Mercury's extended arms were moving to close in her. The cryogenic vapors encased within the capsule of her freeze arrow reacted quickly with the Metal Man's bizarre molecular makeup.

"I'm not trying to cause any significant damage," Arrowette barked. "I'm just buying enough time so Black Dog can. . ."

A brown mass of metal hurtled past her at an alarming rate of speed. Try as she might, she couldn't help but wince at the sight of Lead's melted remains violently crashing into the upper half of Mercury's body. The combination of Lead's enormous weight and the freezing agents that kept her pursuer in place was enough to shatter Mercury in two.

". . . do that. . ." Arrowette finished explaining to her unseen associate before leaping off the storage bin and rushing to reunite with her active partner. "Nice shot, B.D. You're quite a hot shot with that telekinesis."

Lloyd was surrounded by a gooey, silver substance that Cecilia could only assume to be the remains of Platinum. "Actually I just chucked the bastard. Figured I could do with a bit of sport."

"Well, I credit you for your marksmanship in any case," Cecilia said with a small dosage of humor. "Any idea where Robin ran off to?"

The Black Dog shook his head. "All this foreign energy's got my telepathy on the fritz. Still, we do have other ways of ferretin' 'er out. C.C., you got any idea where Tweety's at?"

Yes, Noah had a very good idea where "Tweety" was at. She was smack in the middle of a sub-basement nearly 200 feet below the ground floor where the fight had just come to a sudden end. The unexpected change in location was the result of a head-on collision with the bastardized copy of Iron, the Metal Man's designate strongman, for lack of better descriptive terminology. There was no need to go into any extraordinary detail as to who was ultimately emerged as the victor of the fight save for mentioning that Robin was calmly investigating the underground level while simultaneously cradling Iron's head within her left arm and whistling a merry tune.

"You sure The Puppy and G.A. Jr. don't need my help?" Robin asked again as she continued to wander about.

"Not at all," replied Noah. "In fact, they're coming your way as we speak. Perhaps it would be best if you remained where you were until they located you."

"Ah, don't worry about it!" the young woman insisted. "My ring isn't picking up anything danger. . . hellooooooo."

She came to a stop at a sliding, metal door located in the middle of the western corridor. There was a lighted sign above the entrance marked SLEEPER CELLS.

"Well, this looks worthy of investigation," Robin concluded as she carefully placed Iron's head at her feet (just to be safe). "I'm guessing I could use my ring to figure out the security code but I'm in the mood for more unnecessary destruction!"

"Robin, it is my strong opinion that you should wait for the others before pursuing any potentially hazardous avenues of investigation." Noah said with a significant note of concern and trepidation.

"Will you quit worrying your warts," the young woman asserted before using her power ring to create the spectral image of a battering ram. "I'm a Green Lantern, C.C.! There aren't too many things out there that I can't handle!"

Noah winced from the noise of the battering ram colliding with the sturdy doors.

"Well, that just about takes care of the security detail," Lloyd said just as he finished using his telekinesis to combine the melted remains of the Metal Men into a single, solid mass.

"Yeah, something tells me we just cost someone a whole lot of money," Arrowette concluded as she watched Lloyd toss the heap of melted parts high into the sky on what she guessed to be a direct course for the sun. "You know, it just occurred to me that I've spent more time fighting copies of the Metal Men than actually working with the genuine articles."

"At least we know what they'd be capable of," The Black Dog replied as he watched his newest creation fly off into the distance. "Although I'd be more interested in having a chat with Professor Magnus about keeping a better hold on his blueprints."

"Amen to that." Cissie agreed. "Hey, Calculator! Have you managed to find Stephanie?"

Both Cissie and Lloyd could clearly hear a strangled gasp coming from Noah's end of the communications link. They both had just enough time to turn to exchange confused looks before the informant was able to reply.

"Y, y, yes, I've managed to locate Robin. How. . . however it seems as if something has located her."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Arrowette.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

Stephanie was screaming towards them, both literally and figuratively. She somehow managed to keep a tight hold onto Iron's head while undergoing what appeared to be a severe panic attack.

And neither Lloyd nor Arrowette could blame her once they caught a glimpse of just what was chasing her.

What appeared to be an enormous wave of pale white rose up from the ground and rushed towards them. The bizarre groundswell came to a stop no further than five meters away and began to break off and transform into something that was entirely different but equally alarming.

_Well, at least this explains why my telepathy is acting up_, Lloyd thought as the final transformation yielded a grand total of eight White Martians, each of them with blood-red eyes and unpleasant grins punctuated by jagged teeth.

"This is so not of the good," Arrowette mumbled as she unconsciously hid behind Robin.

Robin, on the other hand, managed to consciously hide behind Lloyd.

Noah Kuttler, who was safely tucked away in the caverns below Wayne Manor, started to wonder where he should hide once Batman found out about this.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, I didn't get this chapter out early as I had planned it but I'll take an on-time publication over a late one any day of the week (and I'm sure my dozens and dozens of fans will agree). First of all, I'd like to publically thank Joshua Talon for his numerous glowing reviews. I know I've still got some reviews to fire back at you in return and I promise that I will get onto that in the near future. Nice to hear from shatterfirst again as well and as far as your request for a certain Selina Kyle to appear in The Misfits goes. . . well. . . it's funny you should say that. As for Ryan and Sarah, I feel no need to thank you for your reviews because you spend enough time pestering me as it is! Nyeh!

Well, since my inner immature teenager has apparently decided to come out and play, I figured I may as well make a comment or two concerning Bendis' current _New Avengers _run since the latest issue cost me fifteen precious minutes of my life that I'll never be able to get back (it took me ten to read the actual comic, four more to accept the fact that I just witnessed one of Marvel's most prolific writers just spend twenty-four pages doing absolutely nothing, and another minute being frightened by Maya Lopez's breasts). Still, as I've said before, I believe that BMB's writing style is a lot more "hit" than "miss", House of M notwithstanding, and I'm clinging to the hope that he will eventually force these characters to actually do something.

Speaking of which, how about the next preview!

Issue #41 Preview

Well, Noah has been left in charge and things are just going wonderfully! Batman and Nightwing are going to take on the League of Assassins with two very questionable partners, Kara is in Gotham twiddling her thumbs, and Cissie, Lloyd, and Stephanie are surrounded by White Martians. Let's just hope Barbara Gordon doesn't hear about this. Tune in as Noah continues his odyssey of fretting in the next issue of _The Misfits_: Unintentional Damage Control. Until then, remember to say what you mean and write what you feel!


	41. Unintentional Damage Control

Issue #41

Unintentional Damage Control

Every aspect about the White Martians, from their genesis to their near complete extinction, was rooted in the concept of survival of the fittest. They were originally created to be war mongers and barbarians, the counterbalance to the pacifist Green Martians that had turned Earth's red neighbor into an undisturbed paradise. The war that ensued was a living demonstration of a philosophical quandary performed on a planetary scale: who would win a battle between those who would fight only to protect all they had and those for whom fighting was all they knew.

It was believed that the Green Martians proved to be the ultimate victor, the peace loving culture being the first to overcome their particular evolutionary bump in the road. Of course, none of the monsters who conducted this appalling testing had foreseen the possibility of the Green Martians being wiped out by disease and famine years after they achieved victory. Now only one Green Martian remained: John Jonn'z, the costumed adventurer known to much of the planet Earth as the Martian Manhunter.

Needless to say, there was slightly more than one White Martian still among the living.

The White Martians had become some of the most dangerous foes in the Justice League's already impressive rogue's gallery. Employing the same phenomenal array of powers that J'onn had employed ever since his first day in the league: phenomenal strength and speed, shape-shifting, invisibility, intangibility, and telepathy, they had attempted to subjugate the planet Earth on numerous occasions only to be turned back by the barest of margins. Their last failed attempt culminated in the entire civilization either being cast into the sun or shunted into the Negative Zone.

Or, at least what everyone _thought _to be the entire civilization.

"Please tell me that one of you super-strong people have a way to get us out of this," Arrowette pleaded as she crept closer to Lloyd's back. Young Justice had never had the distinct pleasure of encountering a White Martian in their travels but the archer had heard enough horror stories to realize that she was laughably out of her league.

Lloyd ignored Arrowette's perfectly logical distress, choosing instead to concentrate his attention towards keeping an eye on the many enemies circling around them. He continued looking for any source of aggressive movement as he used his telekinesis to remove his gleaming silver blade from its scabbard and place the magical weapon into his hands. Trickles of sweat were already beginning to form at the bridge of his skull.

"Just stay close to me, sharpshooter. I can hold them off until reinforcements arrive."

"Then who the hell is going to protect me?" Robin hissed as she cast her own worried glare at the numerous hostile foes that she had so stupidly managed to awaken.

"YOU'RE PROTECTING YOURSELF, NITWIT!" Lloyd angrily bit back as the Martians began to inch forward. He snatched the cosmically powered young woman up by her cape and set her back down on his right. "And quit hiding behind me!"

"I wasn't hiding!" Robin huffed. "I was merely examining my options from what others would presume to be a point of submissiveness. It's all part of my battle philosophy, getting into the other guy's head. . ."

"THEY'RE GOING TO KILL US!" Arrowette screeched as the scaly, red-eyed, jagged-toothed creatures all sprang at them.

"Robin! Move!" Lloyd ordered.

"Movin'!" Robin replied as she used her power ring to take the sky. Dodging two blasts of Martian vision during her ascent, she was able to watch Lloyd from the corner of her eye as he used his saber and a series of force fields to defend against the other three beams of energy that had come his way. Based upon her high-school level mathematics skills, she was able to determine that left five White Martians currently after her ass, a concept that she found to not be the least bit encouraging.

"Help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, BURN MOTHER FUCKERS!!" the Green Lantern exclaimed, her "panic attack" evaporating in an instant as she fired a blast of solar energy from her ring. The attack was meant to capitalize on the White Martians' significant weakness to fire and extreme heat, a tidbit of information that she had gleaned from Batman's Justice League case files during a hectic, fruit punch-fueled attempt at legitimate research. Four of her pursuers managed to divert their path of travel enough to evade the wide burst of energy. The fifth however, the one that had been only a few meters away from Stephanie's boots, was not as fortunate and had been incinerated for its diligence.

Stephanie spun to the right as one of the other Martians sprang up behind her and attempted to wrap her up within its elastic frame. Weaving beneath the monster's grasp, she positioned her ring under her opponent's chin and fired another solar flare. This one lacked the intensity of the previous blast but the mere proximity of the discharge was enough to set the creature's head ablaze.

"Ooh! Love the Richard Pryor impersonation!" Stephanie joked over the sound of the alien screaming, a noise that continued to persist until the creature's larynx melted. "See, I don't think I have enough commitment to my work to YIPE!!"

She scurried away as the other three aliens chased after her with what could safely be presumed to be hostile intentions.

* * *

Noah Kuttler had no idea what to do.

The reason the rogues had come to him for help was because he always had an idea, a way to get them out of whatever ridiculous mess they had managed to get themselves into. His penchant for quick thinking in a time of crisis was what drew his former clients to him. It was that gift that allowed him to climb up from the chasm that he had managed to dig himself into after spending several years attempting to commit crimes while wearing an outfit that insulted both his dignity and his intelligence.

To put it in another way, he knew he would have never frozen up like this if it had been Captain Cold or The Pied Piper surrounded by murderous monsters. He also wasn't so emotionally short-sighted that he couldn't recognize why he was in danger of locking up now. He knew he had some ideas on how to take on the White Martians that had built up onto the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite work up the courage or the nerve to speak of them. After all, he had nearly put Cecilia in a great deal of danger with his words once already tonight and both Lloyd and Stephanie had made it indisputably clear on numerous previous occasions that his battle commentary was unwanted.

_Still, I have to do _he continued to fret as he nervously drummed his left hand against his knee.

"Well, this appears to be quite the unsolicited quandary, Mister Kuttler," Alfred unnecessarily observed from the vantage point of just over Noah's shoulder. "I believe it would be most advantageous if you could provide them a much needed bit of assistance."

The spike of irritation caused by the blindingly obvious statement nearly convinced Noah to fire back an irritated reply at the gentleman. However, the knowledge that a tart rejoinder and a cuff to the back of the head would have followed it allowed him to rein that impulse in.

"Kara's still dealing with the chemical fire on the East End," he replied as he cast a worried glance at the corner of his enormous, flat-screen monitor that showed the young Kryptonian bringing her arctic breath to bear. "It isn't something that we can just pull her away from and the battle may very well be over by the time that the situation is resolved. Perhaps I should contact Batman. . ."

"Master Bruce specifically ordered to not be interrupted during the course of his covert operations," Alfred sternly reminded the younger man. "And even if he were available, you know as well as I do that he could not possibly arrive in Philadelphia any faster than Miss Kara."

Noah was momentarily tempted to yank his glasses off from its resting point at the bridge of his nose and clean the lenses. "Well, then that settles that. We're simply going to have to contact Oracle. . ."

The Calculator's left hand, which was already stretching towards the keypad on his communications relay, was stayed by the firm grasp of the caretaker of Wayne Manor. The hacker's mind was reasonably certain that it should have been capable of breaking free from the older man's grip but his body remained almost perfectly still.

"This is not Oracle's problem. It is yours." The unrelenting timbre in the voice of the former Interpol agent was enough to convince Noah to cease his struggling. "As touching as your flagrant display of compassion may be, it will not help these three out of this situation. If you truly wish to see them remain hale and hearty then you will cease your ill-timed apprehension and do the job that you are here to do. A job only _you _can do."

"Alfred, the only thing that I could possibly provide for them is a connection to possible reinforcements," Noah unnecessarily replied. "However, the problem of maintaining a covert operation is the fact that to do so require close contact with as few people as possible. We simply don't have anyone left who can lend them a hand!"

"Then perhaps you would do well to remember that Mister Blake and Mister Lawton are not the only individuals who are in our collaborator's employ. In fact, if I properly recall my perusal of the roster files as well as Master Bruce's psychiatric profiles, one of them would be particularly appreciative towards being able to participate in this kind of mêlée."

It took the slightest moment for the idea to spark to life within Noah's cerebral cortex. However, once it occurred, he had already shaken his hand free from Alfred's grasp, his fingers racing to key in the proper code for his satellite relay. As the split-second connection occurred his information centers were already calculating flight velocity, proper distance, and anticipated times of arrival with a speed and accuracy that, as far as Noah was concerned, could not be matched by Barbara Gordon on her best day.

_That grand-standing pretender_.

"Thank you for that, Alfred," Noah said sincerely although most of his attention was focused upon the person on the other end of the line.

"Thank me by getting them back alive, Mister Kuttler. After that ridiculous display of unprofessionalism, it is rather obvious that Miss Stephanie deserves nothing less than a firm boxing of the ears."

* * *

_17.7 miles north-northeast of __Kirklareli_

There are a great many factors that weigh into the success or failure of any attempt of stealth.

One of them, of course, is planning. After all, oftentimes the best weapon to have when launching into the unknown is the power of information. Satellite surveillance and jammers had allowed Batman and his team to be able to acquire not only an accurate headcount of the number of guards that Talia had stationed at the weapons depot but also the best possible schematic of the facility that one could acquire without actually stepping foot into the building itself. The suspected patrol routes of the guards was a clear indication that these were well-trained soldiers but even the best routines could be rendered asunder when the invading team consisted of two master strategists.

And that little factoid conveniently leads us to the second ingredient of any good covert stew: a solid team. Circumstances such as these, where the infiltrator's team is so inconveniently outnumbered, requires for each man or woman to be responsible for their fair share of the duties and labors. Those who are unable to do so will not only be a danger to themselves but also to those who are relying upon them to pull their weight.

It had naturally only taken three shots for Floyd Lawton to take care of the first three guards he had come across. His twin customized Diamondback silenced revolvers, both of which were loaded with darts that held enough soporific agents to knock out a horse, remained at the ready as he prowled the long corridors in the southeastern section of the munitions store. A sick part of his gut was trembling at his predicament of being surrounded by enough small arms, explosives, and incendiaries to keep his weapon stores full for years to come and the fact that he was currently stuck with these harmless peashooters in comparison did nothing at all to relieve the sting of it. In fact, his enduring resentment was just enough of a distraction to allow for the sharpshooter to not lock-on the location of his next target until that target was able to see him.

And now, as we pause in the face of this potentially life-threatening moment in time, we come to the third component of any sound infiltration attempt: sound instincts. For the role of one who is concealed, even for those who have planned for every conceivable eventuality, is a task that shall be fraught with unforeseen circumstances more likely than not. To overcome such situations, a person must possess the certainty of mind that allows them to believe in what comes off the top of your head. After all, you may run into many situations where there will be time to think of nothing else.

A night-blue escrima stick crashed into the skull of the man that had met Lawton's distracted eyes. The force of the blunt object striking the fore base of the cranium transformed what would have been a shout of warning into a strangled groan that anyone would have had a hard time hearing unless they were actually listening for it. The precise shot also gave Lawton more than enough to time to fire a dart that pierced the man's carotid artery and sent the unfortunate interloper down in a heap.

Lawton gave Grayson the slightest of nods, easily the most appropriate gesture for giving thinks within their current milieu. After working together to tuck the unconscious fellow behind a wooden crate that held a variety of various grenades, the two of them slowly made their way north towards the rendezvous point, making certain to take their time in order to better avoid another near slip-up.

Since there doesn't appear to be any profoundly exciting moments currently taking place within this weapon repository, it seems to be the right time to introduce the fourth and final aspect of shadow and subterfuge: patience. It can be either the most or the least important facet of these kinds of activities but very rarely will it be neither. Those who have the advantage in number and weaponry often have the luxury to be patient because of their natural strategic advantage. However, those who must claw their way up from the bottom, those who must stay to the shadow if only to avoid being slaughtered in the light, can use patience at their leisure if they know what to do with it. They can use it either to force the larger aggressor to show its hand or they can play it out and let the paranoia, fear, and uncertainty seep further into the theater of operations.

It wouldn't have taken long at all for Blake to scale the side walls of the factory if he had been unencumbered by circumstance. However, his desire to avoid attempting to engage in hand-to-hand combat with soldiers armed with semi-automatic weapons encouraged him to take his time. He scaled the steel walls with the grace of his namesake, his diamond-tipped claws quietly tearing into the material as he moved upward.

The 50-foot climb to the roof of the storage area had taken nearly ten minutes to complete and he often had to shut himself off from the throbbing agony resonating from his shoulders and upper arms while making the ascent. However, he soon found the prolonged suffering to be well worth it when the signal to attack was sent on and he slid downward into the depot with the aid of one of Batman's de-cel jumplines. He snatched two stunned guards as he ceased his descent only two meters from the floor, his bulging biceps adding pressure to the chokeholds as he made his way back upward. The surprise, the velocity of the ride upward, and the sensation of Blake's claws scratching into their faces was enough for the kidnapped guards to scream bloody murder.

All hell had broken loose at the hands of four master architects.

* * *

This was hardly the first time that Arrowette felt that she did not belong in a battle. That being said, she really wished the White Martians didn't make her feel like she was completely useless. Part of her uselessness had stemmed from the fact that she had used quite a few of the trick arrows in her quiver during the fight with the Metal Men. However, even with all but a handful of arrows remaining, what few shots fired from her bow that the pale monstrosities didn't manage to weave their way around all harmlessly _thunked_into the aliens' sturdy bodies.

Again, she didn't find this to be the least bit surprising. What did surprise was that Lloyd appeared to be faring little better. Although he had done a perfectly fine job protecting her from harm, he seemed to be producing little in terms of significant offense. In fact, as far as the young woman could discern, he appeared to be perfectly content to stave off the energy blasts and physical assaults of the multi-talented monsters.

"Lloyd, I would really appreciate it if you kicked it into another gear here!" The shock of the situation caused her to speak out with a little more anger than she would have liked.

It was right after making that bold order that she was finally able to take a closer look at her guardian. The sight only served to magnify the chills that were already playing across her vertebrae. Sweat was pouring down from his brow and his pupils were dilating badly. His skin had become frighteningly pale, the pallid tones accentuating the trickles of blood that were slipping out of his flared nostrils (and judging from the crimson mess on his upper lip, it was hardly the first of).

As fast as the battle was swirling on around her, the archer was reasonably certain that the three pestering Martians had yet to lay a finger upon her ailing bodyguard.

Perhaps sensing the possible turmoil below, Stephanie rocketed down towards them, her three remaining chasers right on her heels. "Black Dog! Why aren't you kicking ass right now?! What the hell is the mat. . ."

Arrowette had her back to Robin but she thought it was safe to presume that her fellow blonde had managed to catch a glimpse of Lloyd. The sky around her erupted into a sea of red as six blasts of Martian vision streamed towards them. The all-too-human sharpshooter could only blink as the half-demon and the Green Lantern coupled their powers to create a barrier to shield them from the immense wave of energy.

"The Martians 're telepaths," Lloyd explained as he used his free right hand to wipe away the blood and sweat from his face. "They've been tryin' to break into your minds ever since they got up to the surface and it's takin' a lot from me to keep 'im out!"

"Shit! I should have realized!" Robin shouted as she focused the power within her ring to fortify the barrier and handle more of the weight. "Just hang in there, puppy! We just need to hold these guys off until Kara. . ."

_FRA-KOOOOOOOM!_

The shockwave set off by the force of a speeding 210-pound object smashing into the ground at several hundred miles per hour was enough to scatter those Martians that had remained rooted to the ground. Those who were in flight summarily witnessed the distress of their compatriots and also ceased their assault upon the barrier to focus their attention upon the newest arrival.

The sudden destabilization of the White Martians' telepathic blitzkrieg also allowed Lloyd to also take an unencumbered look. She was a powerfully built woman, a six-foot-eleven sculpture whose long legs, arms, and chest were sheathed within sturdy muscle. Although her battle armor was just a titch too green for the young man to consider it aesthetically pleasing, the protective coating appeared to be quite worn but still sturdy and it served to accentuate the fountain of red hair that cascaded down the woman's back and the fierce gleam in her emerald eyes.

Lloyd also couldn't help but notice that he took these details in as more of an admirer of beauty rather than actual physical attraction. _Exactly when did he stop liking redheads and start turning his eyes more towards blondes?_

"I was told to be expecting grand combat worthy of my attention," the woman said as she showed her gleaming canines to her sallow adversaries. "For your own sake and safety, I advise you not to disappoint me."

Two of the half-dozen Martians went straight for her, the powerful, extraterrestrial fighting force already scattering at this unforeseen circumstance. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Stephanie let loose an immense wave of fire at the three aliens that remained in the air. Two of them had managed to make themselves intangible before the energy swept over them but the one who had attempted to dodge the blast had failed to do so and was severely burnt in the process. Encouraged by the vocal anguish of one of her self-assured antagonists, she took to the sky with a whoop, the three Martians in fast pursuit.

The telepathic onslaught had resumed the moment that the red-headed woman had declared her desire for a good scrap and Lloyd's cerebrum was once again straining with the arduous task of having another person to protect. However, the fact that he had only one Martian left to deal with had made his task a great deal easier. He fired a series of white-hot energy bolts at his circling adversary while he attempted to determine what kind of magic he would have to imbue his attacks with in order to overcome the Martians' intangibility. Meanwhile, as he was doing all of this, both he and Arrowette made their way to their newest compatriot.

"Not to take anything away from the timely rescue but who the hell are you?" Arrowette asked just before firing a freeze arrow at one of the Martians that was attacking the woman.

Kay Reynolds, as she had come to be known on this planet, was a little too busy to voice her reply at the outset. In her defense, she was wrestling with two frustratingly malleable opponents whose physical strength was nearly as great as her own. However, the projectile the little blonde Earthling had fired seemed to be enough to slow down one of her foes just long enough to allow her to wrap her fingers around the creature's long neck. Flinging the alien high into the sky, she then used her wrist gauntlets to deflect the red blast of energy that was blazing from the eyes of her other opponent before rushing forward and connecting with a ferocious haymaker that overcame even the Martian's elasticity and sent him hurtling into the western wall of the factory.

"You may call me Knockout. I and my colleagues have been sent here to aid you in battle."

"Your colleagues?" Lloyd asked as he continued his ground-to-air combat. "And just where are these colleagues now?"

"The Black Dog, is it not?" Knockout asked, the tone in her voice revealing that she took little offense towards Lloyd's brusque inquiry. "I must apologize. My thirst for combat overcame the obligation to stay on pace with my less maneuverable associates. I assure you that they shall arrive momentarily."

Arrowette let out a little cheer as one of Lloyd's blasts crashed into the abdomen of his target, the intensity of the attack was not enough to finish the Martian but it gave them a bit of breathing room.

Lloyd tossed his short saber to Knockout without a word, his attention already focused upon the pair of foes that Stephanie was dealing with several hundred feet above the ground.

Kay caught the blade by the hilt without any difficulty, the look in her eyes making it obvious that she did not anticipate such a gesture. "This is an exceptional weapon," she said while giving the gleaming, silver blade a once over. "I am surprised that you would willingly give such a thing to someone you have known for only a moment."

The Black Dog fired a blast at one of Robin's foes before turning to look Knockout in the eyes, his tired green eyes returning the same warrior's glare that Kay had given to the Martians.

"Just take care of it like you take care of her and we'll be square."

Knockout gave the young man an understanding nod before returning her focus to the battlefield. "Your gesture is appreciated. However, I am a proud warrior tempered upon the flame pits of Apokolips. I must confess that wielding a weapon could infringe upon my honor as a warrior."

The former Fury's perceptible ruminations were interrupted by the return of the White Martian that she had thrown into Earth's stratosphere. Instinctively using Lloyd's saber to deflect the blast of Martian vision that preceded her foe's arrival, she leapt into the air while taking the sword into both hands in order to slash at her opponent. The supernatural essence surrounding the sword had no trouble at all cutting through the Martian's pliable flesh, the blade rushing through the pale tissue, muscle, and bone until Kay found that her blade had passed through the creature's entire body.

When Kay's feet once again found solid ground, she discovered that she was covered in green blood and surrounded by two large chunks of dead Martian.

"Of course, I suppose I could be convinced to alter my personal philosophy," she said with a dangerous smile.

* * *

The battle was over before it could even really begin. Blake's purposely outlandish entrance was enough to turn what was already a tense scene into an arena steeped within barely-controlled panic. The unfocused rush by those that had not already been incapacitated by the four interlopers was immediately turned into a hindrance as Lawton let loose with a barrage of fire that took down another half-dozen foes before anyone could realize what was going on. Of course, by the time they had gotten their bearings Grayson and Wayne were upon them, their fists and feet performing the same tasks that Lawton's darts had been doing so very well.

Blake's feet hit the ground as Grayson tripped up the last of their opponents with a leg sweep before launching into a forward roll and hammering the poor man with a right hook that brought the lopsided combat to a definitive end.

"There is no possible way that somebody in here didn't manage to get the word out," Blake said as he retracted the jump line.

"Then let's make certain that we're not here by the time the reinforcements show up," Grayson replied.

"You won't hear any complaints from me. This has got to be the sturdiest jump line I've ever seen. What does it have, a titanium-gripping point?"

"Synthesized micro-diamond drill head. Carbon dioxide is fired off by the release mechanism so there's more consistency in the trajectory fire."

"Can the two of you put a zip on the ten-dollar shop talk?" Lawton said irritably as he looked back and forth between the two of them. "And can we please take this ridiculous gear off? I hate wearin' all black! Makes me feel like The Gimp in _Pulp Fiction_."

"Leave it on."

Bruce Wayne, the last of the four successful infiltrators, strode towards them. Like his partners, he was wearing a sheer black bodysuit instead of his regular, more noticeable battle gear.

"Blake was right. There isn't any way we could have avoided detection but we can keep Talia from determining just who is coming for her until we're there."

"So how many of them do you think we'll be able to drag out of the home base with this little diversion?" Lawton asked as he snatched a modified Desert Eagle from one of their fallen foes.

"Hopefully enough to make what we're going to be doing a little bit easier," Grayson replied. "I don't really fancy the idea of taking on the entire League of Assassins just to get to Cheshire and Talia."

"With all due respect, I still believe we're banking a little too much on the idea that the League won't be able to detect us on the way to the compound," Blake warned.

"The radar jamming equipment in the Batplane has always been able to get past the League's sensors before," Wayne explained as he led the way to the craft. "The short distance between this facility and the main station wouldn't prompt the need for airborne assistance. Believe me, they'll stick to the ground."

"Of course, all these theories are all banking on the idea that Talia isn't smart enough to figure out what we're trying to do and just who happens to be doing the doing," Grayson said brightly. "And, judging from my past experiences with her, I'll wager that she'll just be sitting there waiting on us until we arrive."

"This move was an acceptable gamble, Dick," Wayne replied as he opened the hatch to the Batplane, "particularly if we are successful in drawing out some of Talia's soldiers. Whether or not the gamble draws results is something we'll have to wait to discover."

"If anything else it will keep these soldiers away from moving to take us on when we do make a run at the main compound," Blake said while he waited for Grayson to scale the ladder leading toward the cockpit. While he waited, he turned to notice Lawton continuing to look back at the demolished weapons depot. Knowing his comrade well after working with him side-by-side for over 15 months, he was relatively certain he knew what was on Floyd Lawton's mind.

"You can't kill any of them. That's not what we're here for."

"Oh, come on!" Lawton said through gnashed teeth. "They wouldn't have had any problems leaving us to take a dirt nap!"

"Just get in the plane, Deadshot," Blake said dully as he put both feet on the ladder. "If we get out of this alive then I promise I'll ask our boss to find an assignment where you'll get to kill people."

Floyd Lawton took one last, beleaguered look at the facility before he followed his friend's order.

"Here I am sparing the life of another assassin. I think I can feel my reputation circling down the drain as we speak."

"What reputation?" Grayson asked from the safety of one of the passenger seats.

"Shut yer yap, Elf Shorts!"

* * *

Knockout roared with triumph as she took advantage of a blinding flash fired by Lloyd in order to eviscerate another one of her foes. That successful kill now brought the White Martians down to half their original number, the third casualty occurring when Robin had manipulated one of her foes to run headlong into a red-hot lance of energy fired by the Black Dog, who appeared to be getting healthier with each downed antagonist. However, despite the fact that the battle had seemed to be going better, the effort Lloyd put into his distraction also left an opening in his defenses that one of the four remaining Martians was all too happy to take advantage of. Before the man could fully get his bearings, the pale monster had wrapped its extendable limbs around Arrowette's neck.

"Cissie!" Lloyd yelled before another of the Martians knocked him down with a speeding tackle.

Arrowette could already feel her breath being cut short and her vision beginning to dim. She could faintly see the Martian forming its left hand into what appeared to be an ax although the incensed glare in its blood-red eyes proved to be quite distracting.

Then again, it wasn't distracting enough for her not to notice when a sword poked out from the front of the creature's neck.

"As much as I appreciate the aesthetic values of a gruesome decapitation," said a terribly proper voice, "I'm afraid I cannot allow this to take place."

The Martian roared in agony as it relinquished its' grip. Initially falling on her butt in surprise, Cissie rolled back to her feet to be greeted with the sight of a bizarre looking figure with stringy red hair and an ornate mask over his face. The rest of the fellow's ensemble consisted of a checkered outfit of many various colors that Cissie would have thought to belong to a Renaissance fair fan whose mind had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Then again, that air of creepiness could have been caused by the fact that the man's arms were currently disjointed.

"You see, the amount of money that I am being paid for this affair is directly proportional to how many of my compatriots happen to survive," Ragdoll explained as he yanked his sword from the Martian's neck and plunged it into its' spinal column. "My monkeys require proper nourishment, you see?"

The flexible freak of nature leapt off the bucking alien before the pained monstrosity was struck in the gut by a beam of blue energy. The energy began to crystallize upon making contact with the Martian's pale flesh, the wave of blue spreading outward until it encompassed the Martian's entire body in a thick layer of ice nearly a meter along on all sides. Having wrestled himself free from the Martian that had carried him away from Arrowette, Lloyd crashed into the frozen creature at a speed that left the Martian in frozen pieces.

"So Batman's theory concerning Martian physiology is correct," the newest arrival said in a monotone. "They are susceptible not only to intense heat but also to extreme cold. Perhaps it is only through the ability to regulate their body temperatures that they are capable of surviving the deep chill of space."

Lloyd landed next to the erudite fellow, giving the Secret Six member a once over with a hint of pride in his eyes.

"You look good," he said.

"You've looked better," Mister Freeze replied.

* * *

Meanwhile, the battle in the sky was beginning to look a little brighter for Stephanie Brown. Lloyd's well-timed assist had left her with only two Martians to deal with, a situation that wasn't exactly something she was looking forward to doing at the start of the day but was still a great deal more manageable. In fact, the situation became even more controllable when one of her enemies had been roasted by a blast of red energy that Robin recognized only too well.

"Sorry I'm late," Kara said as she smashed the other Martian's jaw with a speeding left hook.

"No problem," Robin replied, only mildly frustrated when the recipient of Kara's punch turned intangible in order to avoid the blast of energy she had sent its way. "Besides, judging from the energy signatures I'm reading from this ring, the battle's just beginning to heat up."

Robin pointed to the aperture that had been created and widened by her and the first wave of White Martians. Following her friend's gesture, Kara looked on as another wave of enemies emerged. She was able to count a dozen of them before a fist to the jaw brought her back to the matters at hand.

* * *

Noah Kuttler couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"My word," Alfred said as he and Noah watched the battle in Philadelphia begin to escalate. "It appears that this is becoming quite the thorny affair."

The Calculator only seemed mildly concerned as the 13 new foes made their way from their containment cells and towards the surface. "You forget that we have added reinforcements as well, Alfred," he said with a grin. "And with Kara's heat vision, we also have a potent weapon that can be employed to defeat the Martians."

"And you're certain that there are no other unexpected surprises that the team may be forced to endure?"

"I've scanned the entire complex, Alfred. The secondary sleeper cells were activated by a signal launched from a communications outlet from somewhere in England." The technology savant let out a triumphant laugh as he happily drummed his hands on the table he was seated out. "It will be child's play to triangulate the signal and discover where it came from!"

Alfred regarded Noah's merry behavior with a somewhat amused grin. "Well, it would appear that you have everything well in hand, Mister Kuttler."

Noah turned to the butler with a smile. "Well, there's the whole matter of the vicious alien invaders but I think it's safe to say we've handled worse. More importantly, we came across an unpredictable situation and we worked together to overcome it. I think it may be safe to say that things are looked a great deal brighter!"

A buzzing noise indicated that someone was attempting to contact Noah. Securing the line with the greatest of ease, Noah eagerly accepted the communiqué coming from the East End of Gotham, no doubt Bullock or Gordon thanking him for his timely assistance concerning the fire on Lambert Square.

"Bruce?" asked a voice that didn't sound the least bit like Harvey or Jim. "It's me, Selina."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Yes, I know I'm a little bit late with this chapter but I do have a series of excuses that you are either willing to accept or revile based upon your personal disposition. I went on vacation over the last week, driving 2,200 miles over the course of six days. The good news about that was that it was the best time I've had all summer and it gave me the opportunity to catch up with some old friends. The bad news was that by the time it came around to edit the chapter on Friday I found that my eyes were more interested in sleeping than in reading. Sorry for the brief delay and I thank everyone for their reviews.

Boy, did I pick an appropriate time to have an arc with Knockout in it! I go to my local comic book store a couple days ago, pick up the latest copy of Birds of Prey, and see my personal favorite Fury splattered on the streets of Metropolis with a hole in her chest. Apparently Knockout paid the price for being an ass-kicking female character that Gail Simone worked to make popular and intriguing. Still, I have to give points to Mister Bedard for having Barbara Gordon point out to Dinah the sheer lunacy of marrying a pig like Oliver Queen.

Ah well! Enough whinging! Let's get to the next preview!

* * *

Issue #42 Preview

Man! Just when Noah thinks he's got everything under control another new problem emerges. Yes, it's a very sexy problem who has some disturbing but alluring psychological hang-ups but it is a problem nonetheless. One may also notice that our favorite male bespectacled hacker has run out of Misfits that he can send out to handle his problems so what is he going to do when he hears what Catwoman has to say? All this, White Martians, Talia, Cheshire, broken backs, burnt-up bodies, and plenty of profanity and pithy insults await you in the next installment of The Misfits: Straws and Camel Backs. Until then, remember to say what you mean and write what you feel!


	42. Straws and Camel Backs

Issue #42

Straws and Camel Backs

While Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Floyd Lawton, and Thomas Blake remained concealed from the eyes of the League of Assassins from the height of nearly 5,000 feet, two others who had a definite interest upon monitoring the compound remained on ground level. They had remained at that post now for just over 22 hours. The both of them had kept a solid eye on Talia Al-Ghul's base of operations but one of them in particular had kept their eyes focused upon any remotely noticeable aspect of activity the entire time, sparing not a single moment for sleep or pleasant conversation with their far more relaxed cohort.

That cohort, who just happened to be in charge of this observation, saw no problem with enduring the obsession of her colleague. She had been in this game for far longer than she would like to remember and this was hardly the first time that she had come across someone who was trying too hard not to fail. The veteran was quite certain that, when the dam finally broke, her partner's professionalism would easily overcome the emotionally-fueled mania that was currently taking place before her. To believe otherwise would dismiss the many accounts of her partner's capabilities and their extensive list of past accomplishments.

The old hand fired up the enhanced contact lenses placed just over her green eyes, adjusting the device to a specified scope that would allow her to track heat signatures through the heavy walls of the facility. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle as she zeroed in upon the familiar sight of Cheshire, master assassin and former partner. She found that she had to withhold some of her own unnecessary anger as her mind flashed back to the many betrayals that the foul little turncoat had subjected upon her and the people that had become her friends. Heaven alone knows why the League of Assassins would even be remotely interested in associating with her.

Speaking of which, a quick glimpse of the top floor of the facility revealed that Talia Al-Ghul remained within her office. She was the lone female leader of the group known as The Society, the faction of super-powered criminals whose members had, even after its violent dissolution at the hands of Batman's team, had hounded her squad for longer than she would have ever expected. The veteran had spent more than a handful of moments over the past 16 months wondering why a woman who, by all evidence held a personal disdain for vendettas, would be so adamant about pursuing them. Could the sigils that she and her men would find on the bodies of those that they had defeated have something to do with it?

Her contemplations were pushed aside as her communicator flared to life. _The Batplane is over the target. Prepare for possible infiltration._

A large smile all but erupted upon her partner's face. It was a gesture that was impossible to miss, not only because of its raw enthusiasm but because it was such an unusual sight to see on a face that seemed to have grown use to being grim.

"Tell me something. Which one of these crusaders of Gotham are you looking forward to meeting more: Mister Wayne or Mister Grayson?"

As expected, it took a moment for her reserved colleague to reply.

"Batman."

"Is that right?" The veteran turned her eyes upward on the faint hope that she would able to make out the outline of the stealth craft in the early morning sky. Being unable to do so, she made a note to ask The Batman about Wayne Enterprises' most recent advances in shadowing equipment. _After all_, she thought, _if he can afford than so should I_. "I would have imagined that you'd be more interested in saying hello to Nightwing."

Her partner's initial response was a widening of the eyes and a hoisting of the eyebrows that most likely stemmed as much from confusion as it did from embarrassment. The woman found it to be profoundly amusing.

"Why is that?" There was a definite edge in the voice of her colleague now.

"Well, I would have thought that you would have a firmer connection with the younger of the Wayne gentlemen," she replied matter-of-factly. "What with their respective age differences and all."

Her partner turned away from her, fixing her attention onto the facility once again. "Batman was the one who wished for me to return to Gotham. Batman was the one who I betrayed. He is the one who I must speak to. Nightwing is simply an acquaintance."

"Is that right? Well, I'll have to remember to look to you for advice when I actually have to speak with him. After all, I've been told that Mister Wayne is a very difficult man to impress. Still, I think my surprise gift should help to break the ice. Wouldn't you agree?"

Her partner smiled once again.

* * *

"I've got a question!" 

This was hardly the first time that Kara was a victim of Robin's rotten conversational timing. Don't get her wrong, she rarely had any qualms with easing the concerns and worries of her friends and loved ones. However, now hardly seemed like the time or place for it, what with the four White Martians attempting to broil her alive. Although she counted her blessing in the fact that her mind was well-fortified against the telepathy of her fellow extraterrestrials, the burns caused by the few shots of Martian vision that worked through her defenses was beginning to scratch at her skin.

"And your question is?" she asked as she landed a roundhouse kick into the neck of one of her foes.

A loud blast of energy, presumably originating from Stephanie's ring, made it difficult to hear the smaller woman's reply.

"How come we never run into any nice aliens?"

It was probably a good thing that Kara had to focus and fire off a blast of heat vision to avoid being ensnared in the clutches of one of her adaptable foes. The maneuver gave her the time she needed to resist giving into her impulsive response and work on concocting a more hospitable reply.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, it's just that every single alien I've ever come across since I came back to Earth is either trying to kill us or wants to kill us." Robin explained as she plunged her energy claws into the gut of one of her aggressors. "What's the deal with all this hostility?" she asked as she melted the face of her disemboweled antagonist with a blast of solar energy.

"I'm a nice alien." Kara calmly pointed out just before head butting one of her foes and delivering a spinning back fist that nearly tore the head off of her beleaguered opponent.

"Yeah, but you were originally sent here to kill us all," Robin sagely pointed out. "From what you've told me, it wasn't until after you pulled a Goku that you became hospitable."

"What's a Goku?" asked Kara, making certain to keep a firm grip around the neck of the Martian she was holding in her left hand as she turned to her friend for clarification. The Kryptonian was just able to see the screwed up look on the Green Lantern's face amidst all the red and green and white that surrounded her friend.

"_What's a __Goku? _Ugh! That's it! Once this is over I am making it my business to introduce you to proper Japanese culture. I knew I should have done something when Cissie and Lloyd kept dragging you off for _Fawlty__ Towers _and _Red Dwar__f _marathons."

The discussion had to be put on hold for a moment as the six remaining airborne Martians proceeded with a more concentrated attack pattern. Kara zoomed above the melee, confident that Robin's defensive capabilities were more than enough to properly fend off the assault and allow her to break it up. She went to her task as quickly as she could, launching into a downward rush preceded by a blast of heat vision that forced those within the beam's path to either cease their offensive or risk being burned to a crisp. That scattered four of the Martians, leaving the other two that were undisturbed by her counterattack to abort their failed attempt to punch through her friend's barrier and seek a more profitable confrontational avenue.

"I know about Japanese culture!" Kara protested in the interim cease in warfare. "I've had sushi three times this month. Lloyd and Mister Wayne took me to see _Mikado_ a couple weeks ago."

"Ah, that stuff's just a bunch of melodramatic crap!"

* * *

"Lloyd! I'm begging you! You've got to stop protecting me!" Cissie shouted out her odd request while watching her dedicated guardian take another brutal fist to the jaw. The golden blast of energy fired by Lloyd that succeeded in batting away the attacker did little to appease her worry. 

Nor should it have. The Black Dog's facial muscles had gone past the point of strained, his face now having degenerated into a sunken mess streaked in crimson. Her friend had always been a bit on the thin side, as far as she was concerned, but now it seemed to be extravagantly so. Her friend's not-so-chiseled cheekbones were easy to see and what few parts of Lloyd's body that were not covered in clothing appeared to be skeletal.

Lloyd Thomas was the first telepath that Cecilia had ever worked alongside for an extended period of time. She knew next to nothing about telepathy or how it affected the workings of the brain. Batman had not quite gotten around to that particular lesson during their extensive training. What she did know was that there were nearly a dozen White Martians still standing, each of them presumably capable of entering their minds and reading their thoughts, and only person on their side of the ball was equipped to keep them from doing it.

The numbers game had to be taking its toll.

She wanted to run over to Knockout and tell her to give back that platinum saber that the Fury was using to slice into the ashen tissue of her opponents. She wanted to tell Mister Freeze to come over and lend them a hand although it was quite clear that the eccentric inventor had his own burdens to bear. However, what she wanted most of all was to drag Kara down from the sky and tell her to take care of the man that the Kryptonian had so clearly been crushing on even before she stepped foot in Gotham.

However, as is sometimes that case in life, Arrowette couldn't do any of those things that she wanted to do.

So she did what she could.

"Okay, I'm going over to help out Freeze and Ragdoll. Don't worry about me. Just focus on keeping the psi-shields up and making sure that you stay away from the action. I don't plan on losing anybody else that I care about for quite a while yet."

The archer could tell from the look on her friend's face that he had some reservations. The harried smile that he gave her in response to her order did little to hide them. "All right, hot shot. You just be sure to stay careful too. Our boss will have me head if I brought you home without yours."

Cecilia felt an odd sense of confidence as she sprinted away. As she came closer to the carnival freak and the man in the big, blue armor, she wondered if that encouragement came from the words themselves or the fact that Lloyd had listened to her.

* * *

Noah found his confidence to be draining away faster than the contents of Dick Grayson's first bottle of Guinness on a Saturday night. 

"Bruce, I don't have time for the soulful brooding and contemplation exhibition. Stop being pensive and pick up!"

And the harsh words coming from the lips of Selina Kyle did little to appease his sensibilities.

The shared timeline of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle put even the longest running soap opera plotlines to shame. They had started out as blood enemies around the time Bruce first returned to Gotham to roam the streets as The Batman. This unhealthy relationship persisted for several years until Selina suffered a bout of amnesia and apparently could not recall her criminal past.

Then there was a brief period of time when Bruce courted Selina while keeping his secret identity concealed from the former cat burglar. That lasted until Selina regained her memory and Bruce thought it ethically improper to carry on with the relationship, an excuse that had seemed to be quite popular in Bruce Wayne's number of excuses to prematurely abandon potential relationships with charming, beautiful women as far as Alfred was concerned.

Then nobody seemed to know whether she wanted to fight crime or commit it and then it seemed certain that she wanted to help Batman and then it seemed that she wanted to just steal things and then it seemed as if she had become a killer again and then she was helping out the Justice League and then Bruce revealed to Selina that he was Batman and then they began dating and then they stopped dating because of some paranoid, psychological tripe as Nightwing had so succinctly put it and _then_. . .

The most current information that Noah had on Catwoman was that she tended to keep to Gotham's East End, aiding the G.C.P.D. in their pursuits to keep mafia organizations and stray Arkham inhabitants from causing trouble in the oldest part of the city. He was certain that he could have come up with something more detailed but, quite frankly, he was a little afraid to ask.

"Mister Kuttler. You're going to have to respond eventually," Alfred informed him.

Noah Kuttler knew that. He didn't like that he knew that but he knew that.

"Please accept my apologies, Miss Kyle. I am afraid that Mister Wayne is currently indisposed." Noah didn't have to look behind him to know that his overly proper tone was causing Alfred to shake his head in disgust. "However, if you are willing to leave a message. . ."

"And just who the hell is this?" Selina growled. "You sound like Alfred without the accent and with an even bigger stick up the ass."

The fact that Alfred was chuckling did nothing to ease the revulsion that churned within his gut due to the woman's harsh words. "Well, um, well, my name is Noah Kuttler and I am an associate of. . ."

"Oh, wonderful," Selina said with an irritated purr in her throat. "Now I've got the Riddler rip-off intercepting my phone calls. Look, how about you be a good little recluse, get off my phone line, let me have my chat with my favorite stick in the mud, and you can continue your long-standing quest to sniff Oracle's virtual panties."

"HOW DARE YOU COMPARE ME TO THAT CHARTREUSE GARBED, RIDDLE-OBSESSED PILE OF HUMAN RUBBISH!" Noah screamed with unregulated rage.

Selina gave out another throaty purr. "Touched a nerve, have I? Well, I've always been taught that if it looks like a Riddler and walks like a Riddler and talks like a Riddler. . ."

"Oh, I believe a woman who leaps about rooftops in a purple catsuit and purring over my communications line should be the last person to be speaking to me about confusion in one's personal identity! Are you even cognizant of the fact that you are, in fact, a human and _not a cat_?! How far does your warped, deluded mind allow you to suspend yourself from that blatantly obvious fact?"

Alfred hastily snatched Noah's com link away from the fuming hacker, taking precautions to block out what was surely a caustic reply from his charge's former girlfriend. "Ah, yes. Miss Kyle? Hello, this is Alfred Pennyworth."

"Alfred!" Selina responded with a great deal more joviality than she had given to Noah and intended for Bruce. "Please tell me that your employer has not stooped so low as to hire the Riddler imitator now that Oracle has flew the coop!"

"You boorish slag," Noah shouted back as he struggled to seize control of his connection. "My work in the field of spectral manipulation was light years ahead of anyone else in the field! My information and surveillance networks are the stuff that Barbara Gordon can only dream to have! I once fought the entire Justice League to a standstill!"

"So did Ambush Bug," Selina calmly fired back, much to Noah's chagrin.

"Miss Kyle, Mister Kuttler has been under Master Bruce's employ for nearly two years," Alfred said evenly. "He has proven his worth time and again and you have my utmost assurances that he will be just as willing to comply with any request that you have to make as Master Bruce or myself."

"Well, so long as you're willing to vouch for him," Selina replied. "The bottom line is that I am fairly certain that Hush and Prometheus are about to raise a lot of ruckus on the East End."

"Hush?" Noah whispered, his voice betraying the worry that had sunk into it.

"Yes, Hush." Selina countered with a great deal more volume. "You know, Doctor Thomas Elliot? Your boss's childhood friend? Certifiable nut job who has an unhealthy obsession with Aristotle, gauze, and hospital bandages? It looks like he and Froofy Helmet Boy are playing a game of 'Kill People Who Have Embarrassed Me' and, wouldn't you know it, I'm on the top of their collective list."

"Tommy. . ." Noah murmured, this time making certain to stay out of Catwoman's hearing range. He cursed himself over the fact that the two small-time power players had managed to slip underneath his radar.

"A contact of mine tells me they're holed up in one of the old manors over by Robinson Park. I'm on my way there just so I can avoid whatever initial crap they'll pull just to draw me out. I'll take anybody that you guys can give me. Batgirl, Nightthing, hell, I'll even work with Azreal."

"Well, I cannot promise any of those that you have requested but I assure you that assistance will soon be on its way," Alfred replied. "It appears we have your signature upon our tracking equipment so feel free to seek a place of concealment until your assistance arrives."

"Sounds good to me," Catwoman replied. "Take care of yourself, Pennyworth, and tell the overwhelming inferiority complex standing next to you to seek some professional help."

The target of Noah's strangled reply quickly severed the comm. link without another word, leaving the seething computer connoisseur to be satisfied with furiously cleaning his glasses as a means of appeasing his anger.

"And just what is this business about providing assistance?" Noah asked as he put his handkerchief to work. "Batman and Nightwing are in Istanbul, Lloyd's team is in Philadelphia and cannot spare a single person, and each and every member of the Secret Six is already spread out among both locations. Just where do you expect to find this assistance without attracting people that we are trying to keep away from?"

Alfred withstood the heat of Noah's inquisition without the slightest trouble. "Well, it would appear to me that there we still have one trusted confidante who is capable of metahuman combat. In fact, I have recently heard that this fellow was capable of fighting the Justice League to a standstill."

* * *

Talia Al-Ghul took a casual sip from her glass of Chablis while skimming over the contents of her laptop. After taking a brief moment to see if there was anything in her electronic mailbox that needed immediate perusing, she shifted her attention to the matter at hand. 

The security footage of the raid at the depot was a firm remainder that even her best soldiers would do well with some stricter training regimens. What made the contents of the recording especially damning was how easy it seemed for the infiltrators to stay outside the lines of surveillance until the very end of the skirmish. There was no doubt in her mind that the assailants could have gone without detection; that they made a conscious decision to showcase that they were there. The only real question that remained to be answered was why they would choose to do such a thing.

It only took one viewing of the entire video for the head of the League of Assassins to answer that question. A beguiling smile came to her lips when she was able to catch a full glimpse of the tallest of the masked individuals. Her mind sparked to life as she anticipated what was to come and her heart give off a slight betrayal as it beat just a little too quickly.

"Those incompetent, spineless ingrates!"

Talia's transformation back to the calm, collected leader was almost instantaneous and necessary. She certainly did not need for her current second-in-command to see her in a position that could possibly be construed as a point of weakness. Her relationship with the Oriental assassin already held a significant dose of instability and Talia was well-aware that she still needed the woman's assistance to carry out her intentions. Therefore she snuffed away her anger that arose when the tetchy hired killer referred to people that she had fought alongside for over a decade as spineless ingrates and shifted her attention to the task at hand.

"I take it the initial reports of the attack upon the weapons depot did not meet your satisfaction, Cheshire?" Talia asked calmly.

"You're damn right they didn't!" Cheshire fired back, her long, black hair swishing angrily. "Initial estimates are saying that we lost almost three million dollars worth in small arms and explosives."

_lost, _Talia thought with a mild note of outrage. "Were there any fatalities?"

"None. Just a lot of bruises, cuts and spent tranquilizer darts. . ."

Talia took a longer sip from her glass. _So this is how you wish to play_. She drank the glass down to the bottom as Cheshire continued to rail on in her usual belligerent fashion.

". . . and the worst part of it all is that nobody has the slightest clue of just who the hell attacked us in the first place!" the assassin concluded.

"Batman."

"What?" The brief reply seemed to jolt Talia's latest lieutenant out of her mania. "How can you be sure?"

"Look closely at the security footage, Jade," Talia said as Cheshire moved closer towards her to do so. "See the broadness of the man's shoulders, the shape of the chin. Notice how he only moves his hands the slightest bit as he gives orders to his colleagues. Every aspect of him screams that he is The Dark Knight of Gotham City."

"You seem awfully certain of yourself," Cheshire said with a hint of lasciviousness in her voice.

"It is a gesture of courtesy to know and remember the body of a lover," Talia replied flatly. "However, I can understand your failing to appreciate such a gesture, what with your greater experience in the amoral side of affection."

Talia knew that Cheshire was seething behind her and it was foolish to believe that the assassin was not already conceiving some poorly conceived plot to kill her. She also knew that she couldn't care less about it.

"There is little doubt in my mind that the fellow on the left is none other than Nightwing. The height and build is a perfect match and I would find it hard to believe that the son would allow his father to come here without him. As for the other two, and bear in mind that this is nothing more than an educated guess, I believe that the Dynamic Duo's partners on this venture are your old partners Floyd Lawton and Thomas Blake. The telltale punctures in the gloves of the man to the left seem to match the size of the claws that the father of your latest child is so find of using."

"You expect me to believe that Batman and Nightwing would willingly cooperate with fools like Blake and Lawton?" Cheshire asked with unconcealed derision.

"Dangerous situations create strange bedfellows," Talia replied in her ever unruffled fashion. "The two groups share many of the same aggressors, they operate within similar philosophical circles, and both organizations have team members who share an association with Mao Tenryu."

"That doesn't explain why they would attack one of our ammunition depositories." Cheshire unnecessarily pointed out.

"That is nothing more than a diversionary tactic," Talia answered while continuing to do a fine job concealing her irritation caused by her assistant's poor choice of possessive pronouns. "They are attempting to throw off our scent before making a run at their main target."

"So they're coming here? Well, then that just gives us the unique opportunity to get rid of four nuisances in one fell swoop."

"You will do no such thing," Talia said firmly. "They will be taken alive." The shrewd leader could all but see the complaint forming upon Cheshire's lips so she made haste to explain her decision. "They showed mercy upon my soldiers during their initial attack so we shall extend them the same courtesy."

"Well, I happen to believe that this is a profoundly ill-advised decision," Cheshire said testily.

"Then perhaps I should count my blessings over the fact that I did not place you in my employ because of your intelligence," Talia countered as she left her office.

* * *

"Your attacks grow weaker," Knockout bellowed as she easily weathered the uppercut of one of the two White Martians in front of her. "Have you already been overcome by the rigors of battle? Has your fear of oblivion caused the strength to drain from your very limbs?!" 

"She sure likes to make a lot of noise, doesn't she?" Arrowette asked her erstwhile partner.

"What? This?" Ragdoll said as the two of them made their way towards Mister Freeze. "This is a mere auditory trifle. I find her declarations within the supposed privacy of the bedroom to be far more impressive. Her vocal stylings can be heard throughout the entire domicile."

"Yet another fun factoid about the House of Secrets that I would have been better off not knowing," Cecilia said as she let another arrow fire from her bow. "And I can't help but notice how profoundly useless we are right now."

Ragdoll's agreement was cut short as he and the archer had to dive to the ground to avoid the body of a Martian that had been overpowered by Victor Fries' upgraded armor. "I don't suppose there is anything within your dwindling arsenal that can cause extreme heat or cold?"

"Nothing that can get through their hides," Arrowette said with a hint of frustration.

It's funny how the best ideas can ferment within the most inconvenient situations. The fair-haired archer knew that laying face down on a cold, linoleum floor surrounded by creatures that could kill her without lifting a finger was certainly something that most would describe as an unappealing state of affairs. Still, she thought she had come up with a damn good scheme.

"Hey. Can you stick those freaky limbs of yours down that guy's throat?" Cissie asked, indicating the Martian that Mister Freeze was trying to keep from stretching around him.

"Well, I suppose I can," Ragdoll replied as Arrowette helped him to his feet. "Granted, that isn't very high on my list of pleasurable activities. . ."

"That's all I need to hear," Cissie cut her partner off as she handed the peculiar dandy man of the Secret Six an arrow with a spherical tip. "Get to it!"

Ragdoll rushed to complete his task without another word, his bizarre gait making him look as if he were walking underwater. His advance went unnoticed by his target, who was distracted by Freeze's attempts to cocoon him within a layer of ice. Scrambling up the icicles and powdered snow, the acrobat twisted his left arm until it appeared as if his shoulder had fully popped out of its socket. As horribly painful as it appeared to be, he appeared to be as comfy as a clam in sand as he jammed his arm down the creature's fanged esophagus and dumped the archer's present inside.

Mister Freeze quickly freed himself from the skirmish by slamming one of his reinforced steel gauntlets into the Martian's throat. Hardly needing the archer's vocal warning or the sight of Ragdoll leaping away to see that something nasty on the horizon, he transferred as much power into his leg servos as he could allow and began to sprint away from his former foe.

Arrowette detonated the C-4 arrow the moment that Freeze and Ragdoll were away from what she thought to be the blast zone. The heat of the explosion tore through the creature's abdomen and lower back, resulting in a sizeable hole in the trunk of the elongated extraterrestrial. The murdering machine went down in a gooey mess, the fury in its crimson eyes fading away in an instant.

"I must say that was rather ingenious."

Cecilia turned away from the explosive results of her hypothesis to look upon the impressed countenance of Victor Fries. The doctor's battle armor was sporting a fair degree of wear-and-tear but it still appeared that the man was ready for more.

"Yes. That was quite a novel way to administer pain and suffering," Ragdoll added. "I don't suppose that you would be interested in monkeys?"

Fortunately, Cecilia was far too distracted to offer a reply to Ragdoll's display of affection. Unfortunately, the scene before her was far more horrifying.

"Oh, God."

* * *

"How about Kilowog? He's a nice alien!" Kara offered while throwing one of her foes into one of Robin's. 

"Kilowog is creepy," Robin replied as she parried a blast of Martian vision with her energy claws. "He kept calling me 'The Littlest Poozer'. What the hell kind of a nickname is that?"

"And bear in mind that this question is coming from the person who refers to her best friends as Puppy and Kare Bear." Kara fired a blast of heat vision that enveloped the bunched up mess of Martian flesh that she had created. The attack quickly overwhelmed the creatures' sensitive physiology and, just like that, two more subjects of Project Awaken had been disassembled.

"All right, I'll give you that one," Robin said while continuing to tangle with the one remaining Martian available to her. "Still, that's just one out of a nearly limitless number of creatures that are just waiting to shuffle every Earthling off this mortal coil. My theory still stands."

"Well, that's a rather bleak way of looking at things," Kara countered while engaging in her own one-on-one combat. "How about J'onn? The rest of the Justice League would have discovered what we're doing a long time ago if he wasn't covering for us. That's a nice thing to do."

"Oreos."

The sheer ambiguity of Robin's rejoinder was enough to allow Kara's opponent to burn her with a shot of Martian vision. However, the Kryptonian quickly regained the upper hand.

"Oreos?" asked Kara.

"Oreos," Robin repeated. "J'onn J'onzz is addicted to Oreos. The white filling contains a chemical that alters certain biochemistries and causes the person, or in this case alien, to become more benign."

"Is that right?" Kara inquired with an understandable degree of skepticism.

"Oh yeah," Stephanie said as she used her energy claws to decapitate her one remaining foe. "I read it on Wikipedia."

"I'm sure you did. You know, it's a good thing that I don't take what you say in the middle of a fight very seriously."

"Nice to see you're learning." There was a definite smile on Robin's face as she watched Kara struggle to take down the last airborne Martian. She decided to take a look down to the ground to see how things were going.

Her best friend was lying on the ground covered in blood and sweat. Three Martians were clustered around him, intense waves of energy spouting from their eyes. Lloyd's force shield, usually a lush display of ebony or golden energy, was pale and translucent and dwindling by the moment. However, the specific sight that threatened to squeeze tears of horror from her eyes was that of The Black Dog's spine, which was twisted in a manner that could only be caused by a broken back.

* * *

"Poor Selina Kyle. A kitten who thought herself to be a tiger." 

There were few things that Catwoman would not have given to shut the hole in Tommy Elliot's face. The sophisticated, depreciatory tone that seemed to be an ever-present part of the man's speech patterns grated upon her nerves worse than any fingernail on a chalkboard. She would have been more than happy to do the deed herself if she was not currently occupied with trying to hold off the cold, calculated strikes of one of the planet's most precise fighting machines.

Precious little was known about the man known only as Prometheus. One of the few salient facts that Bruce was unable to uncover was that he was once a privileged young boy who had undergone some kind of profound psychological scarring. The actual incident could have been anything from watching the death of his entire family to not getting a Magic 8-Ball for his ninth birthday. Whatever the source of trauma may be, it led Prometheus onto a quest to annihilate the forces of justice by eliminating every possible trace of personal imperfection.

He spent his life working to combine computer engineering with neurology. He obsessed over the exploits of people who sought to overcome the limits of humanity: athletes, scientific wunderkinds, and, most importantly, superheroes. He invented a device that allowed him to run as fast as the greatest of Olympic sprinters, think like the greatest geniuses walking the planet, and concoct battle strategies with the greatest battlefield generals.

Or, to put it in simpler terms, Selina had no chance in hell.

"Did you honestly believe that we weren't able to see you coming?" Hush asked while Catwoman tried her hardest to evade the viper-like strikes of his partner. "It appears that I've underestimated your intelligence."

"You know, I can't help but point out that it's awfully easy to snipe at someone when you're having somebody else do your dirty work."

Selina Kyle knew that it was not a wise decision at all to waste energy jawing with Bruce's nutcase of a childhood friend but she couldn't help herself. She paid for it as well when she mistimed a forearm block, causing a left hook to crash into her elbow. The awkward impact was just enough for Prometheus to press his offense, following up with a kick to the gut and an elbow to the back of the neck that sent her facedown into the pavement.

"Funny, you didn't seem to have issues with playing dirty when you blindsided me with that bullwhip a couple of years back," Prometheus said with an angry hiss. He kept a firm grasp on the back of Selina's neck with his left hand as he readied the wrist cannon built into his right gauntlet. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do this."

_BLAM! PLINK!_

The first sound, of course, was that of a bullet whizzing from the barrel of Prometheus' pistol at 150 miles per hour. The second sound, however, was produced by the bullet ricocheting off a royal purple force bubble. The assassin had to violently wrench his neck back to avoid being hit by his own shot.

"What the hell?" Prometheus exclaimed as he struggled to regain his bearings and Catwoman rolled herself free.

"Oh, good Lord."

Catwoman turned around to look at the object of Hush's disgust. Standing before them was a man adorned in the same battle armor that he had worn while having his ass handed to him by every superhero ever to wear a mask.

Her life had just been saved by The Calculator.

"Somebody please shoot me."

Misfits Confidential

Curious about what Noah may be wearing? Well, do a little copy and paste, check out a picture of The Calculator on the Vs. Trading Card Game site, add a paunch instead of a six-pack, replace the Cyclops visor with spectacles, and revel in the visual horrors there to behold. I apologize that this is the only way that I can accurately describe it but I have nowhere near the amount of writing talent it takes to describe it.

Well, look who came out with a chapter a little earlier than expected? See? I told you I'd start catching up! I hope shatterfirst is happy with my depiction of Miss Selina Kyle and let me just say that I believe her argument with Noah to be one of the greatest things I have ever written. And yes, I did my best to rip off chris dee's version of Catwoman (I refuse to even _touch_ how she's currently being depicted in the comics). Please feel free to review and shower me with your written displays of love, affection, and appreciation. Or not. Whatever floats your boat.

Okay! Preview time!

Issue #43 Preview

You know, maybe somebody should have told the White Martians to stay away from a Kryptonian's potential huggle bunny? After all, do you really want to get on the bad side of Kara Zor-el? The wrath of the Last Daughter of Krypton, Batman vs. Talia, Catman vs. Cheshire, a tag-team match in Gotham! See all that and more in the next installment of The Misfits: The Old Helping the New. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	43. The Old Helping the New

Issue #43

The Old Helping the New

Bruce Wayne's standing list of friends has always been rather short. This was particularly true before he had reached adulthood. As a matter of fact, it wasn't until he had become The Batman that the list had went any longer than three names. One of them was Zatanna Zatara, the conjurer who had captured his heart when he was twelve and had violated his mind when he was thirty-five.

The other two were staring one another down in front of a telephone booth located across a dilapidated theater in the middle of Gotham's East End.

Noah Kuttler and Tommy Elliot.

Perhaps the aura of Gotham's resident dark knight was able to draw in men and women of great power and influence even from an early age. Perhaps this bizarre association was nothing more than an insanely bizarre twist of fate. Whatever it was, it certainly made for a good story.

Speaking of which, Tommy Elliot's story was just as problematical as that of his childhood counterparts. Like Bruce and Noah, Tommy also fled from Gotham at an early age only to return many years later. His parents had been in a horrific car accident when he was only nine years old, tragic victims of a rainy night and a faulty brake line. The skilled hands of Doctor Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, had managed to save the life of Thomas's mother. His father had not been as fortunate.

Only a handful of people knew that the accident was meant to kill both of the vehicle's occupants. Even fewer knew that the brake line had been tampered with by Tommy Elliot himself. Thomas Wayne's phenomenal proficiency had robbed the young man of acquiring his inheritance for another two decades, a fact that would later motivate the manipulator to take revenge upon the son of his mother's unexpected benefactor.

Just as Noah did, Tommy was also able to deduce that Batman and Bruce Wayne were one of the same. And, just as Noah had conquered the world of information to mark his own destiny and once again take his place at Bruce Wayne's right hand, Tommy had traveled the world over in search of those who would train him to become the man who would put an end to The Caped Crusader.

"I'm rather surprised that you'd take time out from hiding under Bruce's coattails in order to confront me, Kuttler. Or is this unexpected rescue just because there wasn't anyone else available?"

Noah's nervous fingers twitched within his purple-and-white gloves. After all, this was a man that had come as close to killing his oldest friend as anyway had ever come. He had employed the willing, unwilling, and unknowing aid of everyone from The Riddler to Jason Todd to even Superman himself in his quest to make The Batman's life a living hell. Bruce was only alive today thanks to the cunning of Harvey Dent and the loyalty of Jim Gordon.

"Tell me something, Tommy. Or do you prefer to be called Hush?" Noah asked with a surprising display of bravado. "You spent decades meticulously planning and plotting every aspect of your life, presumably in order to achieve some grand scheme or design. At what point during your machinations did you map out the time when you would go about in a trench coat and hospital bandages stalking your childhood friend's former girlfriend?"

Noah could hear a throaty chuckle from Catwoman's lips as the striking vigilante sidled closer towards him.

"First of all, Mister Kuttler, you are the last person who should be throwing stones when it comes to the topic of appropriate attire. Secondly, my associate and I are hunting down Miss Kyle for the same reason that we are going to eliminate you."

"A shared and somewhat unhealthy fascination with the color purple?" Catwoman offered.

"The both of you have kept us from killing Batman," Prometheus replied. "You kept us from eliminating the one man who spits upon everything we have earned."

"You know, I've known Batman for quite a while now and I never reckoned him to be a spitter," Catwoman threw out as she removed the leather whip strapped to her waist. "There's far too much emotional repression under that cape and cowl for something like that."

"I believe he was referring to metaphorical spittle, Miss Kyle," The Calculator unnecessarily clarified. "However, I must agree that he is not one for premeditated acts of interference. He is far too busy to participate in such trivialities, particularly when you consider the mindsets of the people that are claiming to be interfered with. . ."

Noah paused as he noticed his erstwhile partner taking a pointed glance at his posterior.

"I just want to see if there's an actual stick up there," Catwoman explained. "Don't let me stop you."

Understandably, The Calculator decided to keep his mouth shut.

"I don't suppose you would have any problem dealing with Mister Kuttler while I air my grievances with Miss Kyle?" Hush asked his colleague.

"You'll get no complaints from me. After all, there is a sizable bounty on this man's head."

"Awfully quick to abandon your outrage when there's a chance for a paycheck, aren't you?" asked Noah.

"Well, there's also the matter of how you chose to betray The Society," Prometheus added. "Such displays of unprofessionalism have a tendency to stick in my craw."

"I would argue that I never held any loyalties to that band of miscreants," Calculator fired back as Catwoman crept her way closer to her bandaged adversary. "However, I will not rob you of your complaints no matter how misguided or unwarranted they may be."

* * *

Robin suddenly remembered the night when she and Lloyd went to the movies for the first of what would be many happy occasions. It was only a week-and-a-half after she had come back to Gotham, when Batman still looked at them with hesitance instead of bemused irritation, Kara Zor-el was an absolute unknown, and the closest she had come to a Martian was when she watched Saturday morning cartoons. She couldn't remember the name of the movie they had watched or what she had to eat the meal before but she could recall the rest of the night with an impressive degree of clarity. The happiness of that night reminded her that the war and the fight didn't have to be everything that life had to offer. 

And now her best friend was lying on the ground in agony because she had been too proud of herself to pay attention.

She couldn't take any real comfort from the fact that her partners on the ground had noticed that things had gone horribly wrong before she did. Knockout had thrown her one remaining opponent into one of the three that still surrounded Lloyd and was charging into the fray with Lloyd's saber held high. Mister Freeze, the man that Lloyd had visited at his containment cell in Arkham time and time again, was firing brilliant blue rays of ice at the other two, a determined look framing his stoic features. Dashing ahead of him were Arrowette and Ragdoll, the former already having an arrow on her bowstring and the latter bounding towards the fracas with a series of leaps and somersaults.

"Kara," she whispered.

"What is it?" The Kryptonian was still grappling with the sole airborne foe. She finally broke free by pressing her left foot into the Martian's gut and pushing her heel forward. "I'm a little busy. . ."

Stephanie watched in silence as Kara looked where she had been looking just seconds ago.

The Martian streaked towards Kara again.

Kara slammed her fist into the Martian's forehead. She didn't give off the slightest of winces when the monster's head exploded in a spurt of emerald blood and gray matter.

"We need to get down there," Robin said shakily. "He needs help."

"Use your speed to get Cissie and the others out of there. Try and do it quickly enough so that the Martians will stay around Lloyd. Once that's done, put a force barrier around him. I'll handle the rest."

Stephanie had never heard Kara sound so cold.

"Kare Bear, I think it would be better if we. . ."

"NOW!!"

Robin immediately went to her task, having long grown accustomed to acquiescing with orders being given to her by angry friends and family. Using her ring to create a pliable shield of energy, she poured on the velocity as she scooped up Arrowette, Knockout, Ragdoll, and Mr. Freeze with the aid of the cushy buffer. The four remaining Martians remained relatively still as she carried out her speedy retrieval, the monsters focused either on killing her beleaguered friend or recovering from a previous assault. Once she had gotten several hundred yards away, she cut the power to her carrying device and turned to focus her energy on constructing a force barrier just as Kara had instructed.

That was when the Aramark shipping facility in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was enveloped in a sea of red. A blast of heat vision as long and wide as a football field poured from Kara's eyes, a literal maelstrom of energy as hot as the sun. While her four companions hastily turned away, shielding their eyes from the product of the Kara's anger, Stephanie thought up a pair of goggles in order to keep her attention on the person trapped in the middle of that crimson hell.

Robin knew that it was quite a blessing that Kara's attack lasted only a second-and-a-half. By the time the dust was settled, the storage bins and lifting equipment had long since melted into nothingness. The once shiny linoleum was no more and the cement underneath had either been liquefied or was soon to disintegrate depending upon what part of the factory you were looking at. The only sign of life was the broken Black Dog surrounded by a jade bubble.

"Take us over there, Robin."

Robin kept the force barrier around her best friend as she turned to give Victor Fries a staggered stare. The scientist's unruffled manner of speech took a moment to adjust to after the cacophony of noise and energy before it but she was quick to adjust. Recreating her buffer, she made her way towards Lloyd with her four passengers in tow.

Kara had arrived well before them. She was anxiously hovering over Lloyd with a look in her eyes that clearly said that she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. Robin jumped in surprise when Kara caught her stare and raced over to her in an instant, wisps of steam leaking from her eyes.

"Heal him!"

Robin had no idea how to respond. Kara spoke again before she could even express that.

"You've got a power ring. You use it to heal yourself so use it to heal him!"

It was right then that Robin knew that somebody had to take charge. She couldn't let Victor Fries be the sole voice of authority. This day had already been too crappy to allow herself to be bossed around by a guy walking around in a fancy walk-in freezer.

"Take it easy, Kare Bear. It's going to be all right." She kept her hands just above Kara's shoulders, making certain not to make actual contact. "You know as well as I do that my ring doesn't work that way and Lloyd has healed from a lot worse than this. If you want to help him then you're going to have to listen to me, all right?"

Kara responded with several quick nods, her hitched breathing leaving her a bit unable to speak.

"You need to tell Lloyd to cut the telepathic shields. He thinks there's still a reason to keep them up. Once he does that he should be able to start recovering."

The Kryptonian zoomed back to Lloyd, sliding to her knees as she came closer so she could cradle the back of the man's head.

"Lloyd. Listen to me. You can rest now. It's. . . it's okay," she said with a gentle whisper.

Stephanie felt her heart rise when Lloyd's eyes fluttered open. It didn't matter in the slightest that the tender but uneven look in her friend's eyes was not for her. As a matter of fact, she was already wondering how he could tease him about it once she got over how disgustingly cute it all was. She couldn't help the way she felt. She was weird like that.

"You all right?" Lloyd asked blearily. "Everyone all right?"

"Yes. Everybody's all right." Kara replied with a watery smile. She began to gently stroke Lloyd's cheek with her left hand while cradling him with her right. Stephanie turned herself away from the tender moment, found Arrowette, and gave her a playful wink.

Arrowette smiled back.

* * *

Talia casually leaned against the second floor railing as she watched the skirmish on the floor below. She was momentarily tempted to stroll back to her office and take another sip from the bottle of champagne she had left behind. She had little taste for observing the "unparalleled splendor of the battlefield", as her father had so frequently put it. However, she was able to understand the importance of what was to come and continued to watch the necessary step taking place. 

Cheshire, of course, went straight after her former lover, even going so far as to swat her soldiers aside to ensure that she and Blake would be able to engage in single combat. Talia was somewhat tempted to watch the scene unfold, if only to witness the sight of Thomas Blake in battle. He had originally caught her eye when she and Doctor Psycho had traveled to the jungles of Africa to recruit him into the Society. She was intrigued that Blake had recreated himself while clearly using her beloved as a template and she wanted to witness the ultimate results. However, the screeching diatribes of her second-in-command forced her to avert her ears as well as her eyes.

It didn't take long at all to catch the sight of Batman diligently working through his prey. Watching him as he continued to humble her soldiers one by one, she noticed that he had slimmed down a bit since their last meeting. She had little doubt that it was nothing more than a strategic response directed towards the exaggerated physical strength of his superhuman compatriots. She also began to ponder over the circumstances that had altered her beloved into what he had become, someone so similar yet so different from the man she had fallen in love with 15 years ago. Would this transformation give her an opportunity to reenter this man's life or would it destroy their relationship altogether? Whatever the final result may be, it was a far more intriguing quandary to her than Catman and Cheshire's ongoing custody battle.

A rather colorful comment prompted her to tear herself away from The Dark Knight and turn her attention to his flamboyant partner.  
Dick Grayson continued to launch himself into the fracas with an almost childlike glee, the presence of his father allowing him to express his exhilaration without fear of embarrassment or of revealing an open back. Talia found herself chortling at the younger man's acrobtics and showmanship as he eliminated his quarry with nearly the same efficiency as the man who had trained him.

Her father had always insisted that the boy who was once Robin and had now become Nightwing had to be eliminated in order for him to achieve one of his grandest designs: namely, for her beloved to take his supposed rightful place as head of The League of Assassins. He believed that the emotional connection that Bruce had formed with his young ward was an unnecessary impediment. However, she had found that his association with the occasionally juvenile daredevil had helped shape Bruce Wayne into something more than what he had been. So, as much as she knew that the younger man had detested her, and rightfully so, she found that she couldn't fully hate the man in return.

The sound of gunfire and profanity steered her attention towards Floyd Lawton. The lack of blood flowing from the marksman's targets was a clear indication that he was sticking with tranquilizers and it was that fact alone that had kept the foul-mouthed brute from becoming a porous corpse lying on her floor.

As much as she abhorred the mercenary's manners and demeanor, she supposed she had to give credit for Lawton's apparent loyalty and determination to see things through. After all, there are few people who would willingly plunge into such a dangerous state of affairs for the sake and safety of a friend. She would have never considered Deadshot to be possessed with that unique form of fidelity and she considered it to be a credit to the characters of both Thomas Blake and Lawton's employer that they could mold such steadfastness in a man known to be historically fickle with his alliances.

_Oh dear Lord. Did my second-in-command actually offer to have sex with the man she had just been trying to kill?_

It was official. She had seen enough.

She subtly signaled to Ubu to begin the second phase of her strategy. Her mammoth assistant responded with a mighty roar, a signal to those on the lower floor who were still able to move to clear the combat zone. At the same time, the second floor was flooded with the soldiers she had made certain to keep in reserve, each of them carrying an Israeli model AK-47 that her organization had liberated from an extremist group hiding near the Tigris River. In the end, it had only taken five seconds for her to have 75 semi-automatic rifles pointed at the four men.

And as Batman turned his angry glare upon her she found it quite difficult not to smile in return.

* * *

"I have to admit that I was intrigued with how you managed to become something more than a clueless buffoon dashing about with a red visor on his head and a keyboard on his chest," Prometheus claimed as he circled around The Calculator. "Of course, considering what I'm looking at here, perhaps I had spoken a little too soon." 

"Oh, allow me to assure you that I'm just as uncomfortable wearing this outlandish attire as you are watching me wearing it," Noah replied. He knew that there was only a small window of time between the current necessity of keeping Prometheus talking and ensuring Catwoman's safety. "However, desperate times do, in fact, call for desperate measures."

"That's perfectly understandable. Still, seeing someone who could have been so valuable in tipping the scales of justice allowing themselves to serve as a lapdog for someone so slavishly devoted to the ridiculous notion of justice. I find it all to be absolutely revolting."

"I didn't do this in the pursuit of justice, Prometheus. As a matter of fact, I choose not to place a great deal of conviction upon such subjective concepts. I find that those who do tend to develop unhealthy fixations that often lead to outright obsessions."

A purple energy bubble flared to life around Noah's lanky body. Prometheus pulled out an energy rifle from a side holster and fired. The electric charge that served as the rifle's ammunition crashed into the barrier with an ineffectual fizzle, the assault dissipating almost as quickly as it was formed.

"The force barrier that is currently focused around my body has shown to be capable of weathering discharges from an Oa Power Ring," Noah informed his attacker. "I assure you that there is not a single weapon within your impressive arsenal that will be able to penetrate it. In the interest of your own safety, I advise you to stand down and surrender."

Prometheus's fingers were racing over the output settings of his rifle, a readily available clue that the hired gun refused to take the computer expert's friendly advice.

"I've managed to overwhelm a Green Lantern's defenses before, Kuttler. All I need to bust through your shield is the time it will take for me to come up with a solution."

"Is that true?" Noah asked. "I was led to believe that it was your splendiferous head gear that came up with the solutions. You yourself, from what I've been able to determine, appear to have very little to do with it."

"This 'head gear' is currently allowing me to access the minds of the thirty most renowned experts in the field of computer technology. One of which, you should be proud to know, happens to be you."

The Calculator gave off a weary smile. He plucked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose and motioned to clean them.

"Prometheus, do you happen to know why the thirty greatest computer experts in the world never get together for coffee? It's because doing so would only serve to showcase how little each of us know and that, to be quite honest, is a horrible thing to realize. Nearly every advance in the field of computer technology has been conceived by the efforts of the isolationist expanding and overcoming upon the work of others. With enough time, one person can overcome the work of hundreds. For example, if someone had spent enough time examining the neural circuitry within your helmet, they could do something like this."

Noah pressed a sequence of buttons on the keyboard implanted onto his chest plate. Within moments the command had been entered, Prometheus began to cry out in utter agony. He dropped his multifunctional projectile launcher and dropped into the fetal position, his entire body feebly quaking away.

The Calculator calmly strolled up to his fallen foe, placing his spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose now that the lenses were once again in a proper state. "I can understand that your brain is otherwise occupied so allow me to explain what is happening. I have rerouted the prompt commands within your helmet to administer a series of grand mal seizures."

Rivulets of drool and spittle were eking out the corners of Prometheus's mouth. The mercenary's muscular biceps twitched and tensed as he struggled to lift his hands up to his neck, presumably to grab a hold of the release mechanisms on his helmet.

"Now, now. There will be none of that." The Calculator admonished as he transferred the power he used to maintain his personal barrier into a bubble that wrapped around his opponent's head. The maneuver was a two-pronged attack, cutting off not only the bounty hunter's means of escape from his torment but also his air supply.

"I've been plying my trade for over two decades, Prometheus. I will not deny the fact that I have made many mistakes, nor will I claim that I have not been inspired by the work of others."

Noah pressed another series of buttons on his chest plate. A spectral sledgehammer appeared and moved to hover just above his opponent's head.

"However, I must say that I have never come across such a brazen display of impenitent thievery than the feats that you have performed with this ridiculous piece of machinery. I find _that _to be absolutely revolting."

The Calculator sent his ethereal bludgeon crashing down onto the aforementioned helmet. The impact caused a shower of sparks to erupt from the overloaded apparatus and Prometheus went down with a strangled gasp, his beleaguered mind nearly on the verge of a stroke.

"Be thankful that I didn't cut off your hands," Noah said coldly. Despite his demeanor, quite a bit of him felt perturbed that he had caused such an extensive degree of bodily harm. His tolerance for violence had never been high. Nevertheless, The Calculator couldn't help but feel a genuine surge of testosterone coursing through his veins. He was master of all he surveyed.

_BLAM! BLAM!_

The master of all he surveyed let out an extremely childlike squeal as he scurried for cover from Hush's gunshots, his arms flailing madly with every step. It was a small miracle that the computer savant had evaded bodily harm as he dove behind a solid metal garbage bin with an exceedingly ungainly lunge.

"Your good fortune truly knows no bounds, Kuttler," Hush growled as he moved forward in order to get a good shot. "You have squandered away your gifts like no man I have ever known. You can have the entire world at your fingertips but you chose instead to play second fiddle to a morally questionable vigilante with abandonment issues. Evolution should have wiped you off the face of the planet long ago yet here you cower."

A rational part of The Calculator's mind reminded him that it would have been not at all difficult to incapacitate the man threatening to kill him. Every other part of it, however, the parts that constantly reminded him why he abandoned this ridiculous lifestyle, kept him shrinking in that fetid corner.

And that was where Tommy Elliot had found him. There was a brutal gleam in the man's eyes as he raised his twin revolvers, the long barrels pointed straight at Noah's eyes.

"Perhaps I must eliminate the sheep in order to summon the shepherd."

* * *

"You attack my soldiers, obliterate one of my facilities, and now you assault my main compound," Talia informed her beloved in case he had forgotten. "Kindly explain to me why I should not have you and your supporters be killed where you stand." 

"I think we can take 'em," Lawton said with almost a stage whisper. "Let's just snag Blake's former slut, use her as a shield, and pick 'em off from the corners."

Nightwing looked at the hostile glare in Cheshire's eyes and was once again happy that he was not Floyd Lawton. "I'm with Deadshot. Particularly upon the slut part." He made certain to avoid catching the female assassin's eyes as he threw in his own two cents.

"Would the two of you quit reminding me how insane the both of you are?" Catman asked with a hiss. "And quit calling the mother of my child a slut!"

"Although I must admit to finding your colleagues' prattle to be somewhat entertaining," Talia broke in, "I feel I must ask again. Why should I not have you killed?"

"I can give you a few reasons."

The response came from one of the few conscious League of Assassin members on the ground floor. The figure stepped forward, stripping off their mask to reveal a woman with sharp green eyes and short brown hair. She made her way towards Batman's team with a confident stride that seemed to go against her youthful features, her gaze never leaving the intrigued look in Talia's eyes save for a brief moment when she nodded towards Batman and received a nod in return.

"Boss!" Deadshot exclaimed. "Glad to see you finally showed up! You probably could have picked a better place to make your big reveal but who am I to bitch?"

"That's enough, Deadshot," Scandal Savage declared while keeping her eyes on the daughter of The Demon's Head. "The first reason, of course, is the mere fact that if you did wish to claim the lives of my allies then you would have done so already. Secondly, I have just informed my assistant to put a bullet in your head if they hear so much as one more bullet being fired."

Talia could see several of her soldiers startling at the woman's threat. She made a note of as many as she could in order to better organize new training regimens. "Well, the first half of your rationale appears to have some merit. However, I am finding it hard to believe that there can be any truth in your second claim. I'm sure you can appreciate my uncertainty, what with you being a reportedly intelligent woman."

"Indeed I do, Mrs. Al-Ghul," Scandal replied. "Right ear."

A whizz of air brushed by the right side of Talia's head, a passing breeze that she had long ago recognized as the feeling of a bullet barely missing its intended target. Ubu gave out an angry order to find the shooter but she continued to try her best to not move a muscle.

"Stand down, Ubu!" she ordered, raising a hand to halt her diligent sentinel and calm the nerves of her soldiers. "You are placing a great deal of faith within the abilities of a single marksman, Miss Savage. Also, what is to stop my men from killing the lot of you if I am wounded?"

"Because, much like your father had been, you are too valuable to your soldiers to be dismissed in such a blasé manner," Batman replied as he marched forward to stand at the side of the daughter of Vandal Savage. "Because it has become quite clear that you have just as many unanswered questions as we do." The detective turned back to Scandal. "I apologize for interrupting."

"Think nothing of it," Scandal replied. "You said nothing that wasn't already on the tip of my tongue."

"Very well," Talia said. "Let me hear your terms. However, do remember that I will have terms of my own."

* * *

Noah certainly didn't want to stare down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

On the other hand, the disturbing sight allowed him a bird's-eye-view of the bullwhip wrapping around Hush's right arm.

"Forget about me, bandage man?" Catwoman asked. "Your daddy should have taught you to keep your eyes on the prize."

The female vigilante yanked her catch towards her, dropping the whip handle as he stumbled towards her so she could catch him with a left hook and a right hook to the jaw.

"Oh, I forgot," Selina recalled while her foe was leering. "You killed your daddy. Is that a sore spot for you or not?"

Her next shot was a wonderfully satisfying knee to the groin that put him in a perfect position to rake her claws against the former surgeon's chest and gut. She finished off her flurry with a right cross that landed right onto Hush's mouth followed by a roundhouse kick to the side of the head that left Dr. Thomas Elliot stunned, disoriented, and in a great deal of pain. As she was using her bullwhip to properly restrain the obsessive fruitcake, The Calculator slowly emerged from his hiding place in much the way of a child would emerging from their hiding place when they were caught by somebody they _really _didn't want to get caught by. Not wanting to startle the poor guy, she gave her unanticipated rescuer a small grin as she finished her task.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that," she said with a playful wink.

* * *

Nightwing couldn't help but notice that he was already crushing on the daughter of Vandal Savage, a disturbing revelation no matter how he chose to rationalize it. It shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. He had a long standing tradition for being drawn to women who were confident and, judging from how she had spoken with Talia, the woman seemed to have that in spades. _At least she isn't a redhead_, he thought with a bemused grin. 

"My first condition is that Cheshire be turned into police custody. I would prefer the United Nations but I will accept any branch of law enforcement that will force your second-in-command to answer for her many crimes. In addition, I demand that her child fathered by Thomas Blake to be placed into my custody."

Cheshire stalked toward Scandal in a fury. "Now you listen to me, you officious little nobody. . ."

"I find those terms acceptable."

The assassin understandably twisted her rage towards her duplicitous boss, screaming several Japanese phrases that Nightwing couldn't quite decipher but he thought it safe to presume that they were not at all very nice.

Talia kept her poker face on as over a dozen of her soldiers were working to keep her former associate restrained. "Please tell me that you were so foolish to not see this coming, Jade. There were two reasons that I chose to put you under my employ, the first of which was to ensure the safety of that child which you so stupidly placed within my premises. I know of your actions when you worked under Miss Savage and I have little faith in the maternal capabilities of a woman who would so easily give up the life of her child to ensure her own safety."

"I'll see you dead, bitch!" Cheshire vowed as she continued her frenzied but futile attempt to escape the clutches of her captors. "I will be the instrument to your constant suffering. You will swallow the bile that rises from your belly and drink the blood that pours from your eyes."

"Yes, I'm certain I will," Talia impassively replied.

"And YOU! I will hunt you down until the day you die! What gives you the right to interfere with my affairs and inflict this punishment upon me?!"

"What the hell did I do?" Nightwing asked Deadshot with a whisper as Cheshire was ultimately dragged away.

"Mister Blake, if you will ascend the stairwell, I will have one of my men escort you to your child. I assure you that he has been treated well but Ubu has told me that he has long since grown weary of changing diapers."

Catman needed no further prompting as he dashed up the steps while somehow managing to ignore the dozens of guns that were still being pointed down at him and his colleagues.

"So what's the second reason?" Batman asked.

"Because I wished to demonstrate that I hold no ill will for either of your groups. It was a foolish decision to place my allegiance with Luthor's Society and I wish to make amends for my imprudence."

"Then why the hell are you still comin' after us!" Deadshot exclaimed.

"And why did you post a bounty on Noah Kuttler?" Nightwing continued.

"And why should we believe you?" Scandal asked.

"Because by now it should be obvious that each of our groups shares a dangerous antagonist. Whoever has control of the Mensobous Luminitas has used it to decimate my forces in order to create an army. I cannot, in good conscience, continue to blindly pursue this aggressor and endanger the safety of those who continue to cast their lot with me. Therefore, I wish to propose an alliance so perhaps each of us will receive the answers we all seek."

Batman and Scandal turned to one another, each of them also making certain to keep a wary eye on the gun-toting soldiers above them.

"There isn't any need for your group to become involved with this," said Batman. "I know that you were not intending to jump from one battlefield to another."

Scandal shook her head, cutting off her fellow leader at the pass. "I certainly cannot speak for my colleagues but I know that this is something that I must do. The questions that I wish to have answered are far too pressing for me to continue to avoid them."

Batman nodded.

"Very well," Talia interrupted. "However, there is another term that I wish to be met before we continue, Miss Savage. At the risk of my own hypocrisy, I find it difficult to negotiate when there is a gun pointed at my head. If you would?"

The armed soldiers on the second floor began to pull back from their positions as Scandal smiled and fired up her end of the communications line. "I see no problem with that. Stand down and make yourself known, Cassandra."

"Cassandra?" Nightwing asked while the unmistakable sound of the launching of a jump line reverberated through the premises. He looked up to witness a familiar figure descending from the top floor, a sniper rifle tucked into the crook of her left arm while she kept her right hand firmly wrapped around the cable. She let go of the line from about ten feet up, just as he had taught her to back when Gotham City was still known as No Man's Land and Barbara Gordon was looking to pass on her former mantle to a person that she could trust to treat it well. The landing from the release was nothing short of flawless and, despite the bizarre circumstances, Dick couldn't help but smile as Cassandra Cain completed her entrance with style.

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

I've been spending a few of the quiet moments in my busy life pondering why today's comic world has become so inundated with BIG events. I mean, in Marvel we've got Secret War (which was neither a secret nor a war) followed by House of M (which turned out to be House of P) followed by Civil War (which was fought by only a handful of the general population and whose battlegrounds were limited mostly to New York and the freakin' Negative Zone) followed by World War Hulk (where we expect to believe that the aforementioned green goliath, which was originally a metaphor for the potential fear of a nuclear war, to be a Rain Man-like genius who has never killed an innocent man) and soon we'll have the Skrull invasion which may very well rank right up there with Superboy Prime punching stuff as a retcon delivery service.

And I'm not even going to mention DC and its equally numerous "life-changing stories you absolutely, positively have to read".

I may be pulling the old fogie card but what happened to Spider-Man trying to juggle the hassles of everyday life and Batman actually solving mysteries. Must every major character in comics be summarily fraught with angst and worldly disasters? All right. I'll stop whining now. Thanks to everybody who continues to read and review. You make all this a whole lot more worthwhile and fun to do.

Issue #44 Preview

Well, the fights are settled, the distress is relieved, and maybe now we can get some questions answered. Most importantly, Noah can work to get his blood pressure back down. The poor boy's been through a lot and he's still got Selina Kyle and Jim Gordon to talk to. Batman and Talia have a long overdue chat, two old friends are reunited, and we find out a bit about Lloyd's sexual history in the next installment of The Misfits: Slightly Dangerous Liasons. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	44. Slightly Dangerous Liaisons

Issue #44

Slightly Dangerous Liaisons

"You look good."

Cassandra Cain's brief assessment surprised The Batman as the two of them scaled the series of steps leading to Talia's personal quarters. Scandal was several steps ahead of them, seemingly not aware of her partner speaking.

"Thank you."

Several more moments passed before Cassandra replied.

"You have grown slimmer and less compact. It suits your fighting style."

"So I've been told."

The symposium of terse conversers came to another momentary halt as Talia greeted Scandal at the apex of the stairwell. Neither Bruce nor Cassandra had a word to offer to the exchange, remaining absolutely motionless save for a moment when the younger of the two ran her small, left hand through her hair in order to work out a tangle.

The walk began again, Talia at the lead with Scandal close behind her and Bruce and Cassandra close behind her. To his credit, Batman brought the conversation back to life.

"How long have you been working with Scandal?" He had meant to pose that series of words as a question rather than an accusation. However, he was well-aware that he had failed to differentiate the two before. Thankfully, the lack of accusation in Cassandra's ebony eyes told him that he had pulled it off.

"Not long at all. She told me that she would be working with you."

"That seems like an odd reason to take a job." It was yet another honest statement that could have been easily taken as an accusation. The tensing in the woman's coffee-colored cheeks and the slight forward tilt of her forehead told Bruce that Cassandra took it to mean a little bit of both.

"I needed a way to find you."

"You were always welcome at Wayne Manor, Cassandra. You knew that."

Cassandra's head tilted further, prohibiting Batman from making eye contact. "No, I did not. I betrayed you."

"You made a logical decision to break away from what I was doing. It isn't a betrayal to exercise free will."

"You gave me a home and I abandoned you when I grew uncomfortable. I should have been there to assist you."

Batman came to a stop, prompting Cassandra to stop as well. He waited until the young woman was able to look him in the eyes before speaking again. "No, Cassandra. I should have been there for you. It was not your job to watch over me."

"It was not your job to do what you did to Arthur Light."

Bruce realized that they were only steps away from Talia's quarters. The other two women were already inside and Talia was busy asking Scandal what she would like to drink.

"And what do you think of that, Cassandra?"

Cassandra kept her eyes locked on Bruce this time. "That depends. Why did you do that? Was it to protect innocent people?"

"That was one of my reasons."

Cassandra nodded. "Was there another way to do things?"

"Yes." Bruce made certain not to hesitate with his reply.

"Do you truly wish that you could have done it another way?"

"Yes."

"Then I accept what you chose to do."

Bruce took in the sincerity of Cassandra's words, the words of a young woman who swore to never take a life after spending years of being trained by her father to do just that. Out of all the people he had fought alongside for the past two decades, she was perhaps the only person who abhorred the idea of taking a life as much as he had. He found that her words of understanding, perhaps even of forgiveness, meant more to him than he believed they could.

"I should not have blamed you for what happened to Stephanie."

Batman's eyes widened, not because of the revelation, which was not at all surprising, but from what he could do to respond to it.

"Actually, there's something I need to say. . ."

"Please come in, beloved," Talia said in a somewhat playful manner, "I would like to finalize this alliance while there is still a war to be fought."

Bruce and Cassandra followed Talia's order, pacing into the woman's living quarters in their standard businesslike fashion.

"There have always been rumors that Mao Tenryu had access to Kryptonian technology," Talia explained as Bruce and Cassandra joined Scandal in sitting across from her. "Of course, the more pressing concern was always whether or not he would choose to use it. However, unless Mister Tenryu's philosophy has altered dramatically, it would appear that this option has been taken away from him."

"And just how well do you know Mao Tenryu?" asked Scandal as she leaned in closer, a hint of suspicion in her sharp glare.

"It was my father who was more familiar with your former teacher," Talia replied. "He respected Mao's vision for our planet even though he believed abhorred his place as a businessman."

"I imagine that Mao was slightly disenchanted with your father's occasional attempts to annihilate every person walking the planet."

"'Tis a fair reply, beloved," Talia responded. "However, I should remind you that it is Mao's machinations that are currently placing the lot of us in peril."

"How did you group become involved with this?" Cassandra asked.

"The initial disturbance was shortly over four months ago. I began to receive reports of desertions and other unexpected disappearances in many of our overseas compounds. Those supposed runaways that my soldiers were able to retrieve each had a sigil tattooed upon some part of their body. None of them had any knowledge with how they acquired it. The only way we were able to determine that the sigils were Kryptonian in nature was my League's last encounter with your so-called Justice League."

Batman frowned; knowing full well what "encounter" his former lover was referring to. Talia and her father had employed his protocols, his schemes devised to neutralize his colleagues when and if his colleagues were corrupted by one of their enemies by one fashion or the other. That event had been an obscene crack in the now annihilated dam that had become his state of relations with heroes that did not reside under his roof. Although he had recovered from that blow quite nicely, as far as he was concerned, the reminder of the event did little to ease his already suspicious disposition concerning the matter at hand.

"If you're so worried about the state of your soldiers then why do you choose to ally with us instead of those who have already shown a vested interest in your group's talents?"

Talia seemed to take no offense towards Bruce's hostile inquiry, perhaps in recognition of the possible causes for such antagonism. "Because I am not the only force that is threatened to be overcome by the Mensobous Luminitas. Whoever is behind this is obviously seeking to create an army and anyone who creates an army is looking to establish an empire and it is safe to presume that neither you nor I are welcome in this new empire."

Talia did not take her eyes off of Bruce as she said this. Scandal noticed this as well, raising an intrigued eyebrow at the mild sparks flying about. Despite her curiosity, she was still fully intended to press forward with the genuine matters at hand before a streak of green crashed through the eastern wall of the office and zoomed in front of The Batman.

"Boss! Guess what? We found a whole bunch of Martians underneath Philadelphia and we had to fight them and then Mister Freeze and a bunch of weirdoes came over to help us and then Kara went ape shit after Lloyd got his back broke but he's better now and he thinks that there's a whole bunch more hypnotized Martians and. . ."

A wide-eyed, out-of-breath Stephanie caught Cassandra's gawking at her. She looked into her large, black eyes while her own eyes widened as well.

"Cass?"

"Steph?"

The two old friends laughed and screamed. They rushed at one another and met in the middle with an ungainly embrace. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the two of them, the faces of the room's other three occupants all set into a smile.

* * *

"A pretty impressive night if I do say so myself. We've got Prometheus, Tommy Elliot, and the head of one of Paraguay's most infamous drug cartels all collared in less than seven hours." 

"Who is this _we_ that you seem to be so insistent on being a part of, Commissioner?" Selina Kyle hissed. "The only thing that I see you contributing to all this is a willingness to play the part of somebody who sweeps in and takes all the credit!"

The aged detective chuckled. "I don't suppose you have any outstanding warrants out, Miss Kyle? Another high-profile case would be the perfect cherry to this sundae."

Selina fired back with a purr and a smile. "Maybe you should bring in the nervous, little small fry a couple feet away from us. I hear he's got a pretty high price on his head."

Noah turned towards the both of them, quite perturbed that he was the source of their laughter.

"Well, I won't lie and say that I wasn't thinking about it," Jim replied in a tone that was not at all befitting a respected police commissioner approaching the winter of his life. "Still, I can't imagine that your boyfriend would approve."

"_Mrow_. An accusation like that could have gotten you into trouble if I wasn't in such a good mood. Who knew you were such a salty, old tar?"

"You should be proud of your efforts tonight, Catwoman," Gordon said quite honestly. "Hell of a job."

"Well, your officers have done a hell of a job helping me watch over the East End so I was happy to do it. Maybe you're not half as incompetent as the press made you out to be."

"Well, thank you very much," the commissioner replied in a bemused fashion.

Selina chuckled in response to the old man's good cheer. "Tell your daughter I said hello. She may be a moody little prude but Gotham just hasn't been the same since that log in the mud wheeled out of this hellhole."

"I'll do that. Just remember to let me know if you need any help on your side of things."

"Will do," the gorgeous former thief replied as she made her way towards her other unlikely associate. She took in Noah's wary stare with a beguiling smile, adding a bit more slink to her step just because she could. It was a maneuver that she had employed on Bruce heaven knows how many times. However, while The Batman usually responded with a cold stare exacerbated by a stern jaw line, The Calculator broke into a nervous backpedal and looked to be well on his way toward swallowing his Adam's apple. Pleased with her work, Selina continued creeping forward until her face was inches from the eyes of her prey, plucked the wire-rimmed spectacles off the man's nose, and gave the man a chaste kiss on the lips.

"I've decided. You're not that bad a guy after all," Catwoman said as she gently placed Noah's glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Noah, showing his undeniable prowess in charming the fairer sex, remained perfectly still throughout Selina's reward and her simple assessment. After taking a moment to regain the ability to speak, The Calculator made his reply.

"Well, I thank you very much for the compliment and your pleasantly affectionate appreciation. How. . . however I must inquire whether your kiss is merely an expression of indebtedness or a. . . a gesture performed as an indication that you wish to progress into a more, um, developed relationship. Now, now, now, I can only presume that you mean the former option but. . ."

Selina silenced Noah's oratorical fireworks by patting the nervous man's cheek with the palm of her hand. "Now see? Nigma was never smart enough to figure that out." She pinched Noah's cheek as she made her way towards the edge of the rooftop. "Tell your boss to call me, answer man. He and I are overdue for an exceedingly long chat."

As Catwoman leapt off the rooftop and began her trek back to her loft on the East End, Commissioner Gordon made his way to the immobile lump of muscle and bone temporarily substituting for the world's foremost computer expert.

"Quite a lady, isn't she?" Gordon asked.

"Yes. Yes." Noah agreed. "Quite a. . . phenomenal specimen."

The old man laughed again, confident that he hadn't such a good time in months. "Well, Mister Kuttler, I believe I owe you an apology and I'm willing to give it to you now if you're not too busy trying to get your tongue out of your throat."

That actually did get Noah's attention. "I beg your pardon?"

Gordon moved closer to the edge of the rooftop, inviting Noah to join him. "Take a look at all this, son. I've lived in this town for going on forty years and no matter how many opportunities I've had to leave it I just wind up staying."

Noah nodded, recalling Bruce's accounts of the old man staying in Gotham after it had been dubbed "a no man's land" by the federal government. He wondered how a man who had been long reviled by law enforcement officials across the nation, looked down upon by every possible source of print media, and ridiculed by so many of the people he had tried to protect would sacrifice everything he had to continue to protect it after everyone else had turned their backs. It was intimidating to him to say the least.

"I won't deny that this town has been a very harsh mistress," Gordon continued. "It's cost me two wives, far too many friends, and some of the best years of my life and there's still a few too many days where I wake up and wonder if it was all really worth it. But then I'd look at my daughter and hear about everything she's done and that's what keeps me going."

"Well, yes, your daughter is a remarkably gifted woman," Noah replied with equal amounts of honesty and anxiety.

"You're damn right she is. The problem is that I've been doing whatever I can to keep her in my life ever since my Sarah died and, when she chose to leave, I had to face the fact that I have to keep movin' forward. I know that my daughter left on her own volition and I know that she and Bruce were not on the best of terms but I had always hoped that they'd be able to patch things up. They always did before."

Now Noah didn't know what to do. "What? What? Well, who is Bruce?"

"Come on, Mister Kuttler. I couldn't call myself much of a detective if it took me twenty years to figure out who is behind a rubber mask. And before you ask, Bruce wouldn't be much of a detective himself if he didn't know that I knew."

"No," Noah swallowed. "No, he would not."

"As far as I was concerned, your being here was what sealed the deal. My daughter is off living her own life in Metropolis and I've lost another big part of my life because I can't leave this town no matter how hard I try." Gordon shifted his eyes away from the rooftops dappled by the early morning sun. "So let me ask you a question, Noah Kuttler: What will you do to help keep the city I love safe?"

Noah sighed as he once again went about the task of ridding his pristine glasses of filth that wasn't there. "Well, I will apparently swathe my body in royal purple spandex and do battle with obsessive homicidal maniacs."

Gordon chuckled. "I guess that'll do. Now how about you put on some acceptable clothes and I'll buy you a cup of coffee?"

The younger man tore himself away from the fashion nightmare before him and he shook his head. "I'm afraid I will have to take a rain check. I still have a great many tasks to complete before I can allow myself some quiet time. And, as you have said," he continued as he slipped his glasses back onto its rightful resting place, "I have some very big shoes to fill."

* * *

"Waitaminute, waitaminute, wait. . .a. . .minute," Stephanie demanded. "You mean to tell me that Tim is dating Cassandra Sandsmark?"

"Well, I do not know if they are _actually_ dating," Cassandra hesitantly replied. "I only said that they are interested in each other."

"Cassandra Sandsmark? Wonder Girl? The spoiled little Amazon wannabe?"

"Wannabe?" the former Batgirl asked, clearly uncomfortable with using that particular form of slang.

"The millionaire fashion freak who willingly wore a hideous black wig despite the fact that she has blonde hair that actually flows over her shoulders just like in the fashion magazines instead of just starting to curl upward once it gets past the nape of your neck?"

"You are having a hard time accepting this."

"Ohmigod, Tim is such a man-ho!"

Cassandra burst out laughing. However, her amusement didn't put a dent into her friend's diatribe.

"I should fly straight over to San Francisco and swat some sense into that boy's head! And I can do it too! I'm a super-powerful Green Lantern now, you know. I'm, like, Super Stephanie. I've got the power to rip all those pretty hairs out of Sandsmark's brainless skull and place them onto _my_ head so they can be used for the power of good! No! No! Forget it! We're too good for Timothy Drake, that pencil-necked pendejo!"

Cassandra Cain was on her back struggling to breathe. Tears of laughter were threatening to spill from her eyes and her sides felt as if they were beginning to burst. Stephanie eventually noticed her friend's distress, turning her mouth into a momentary frown upon the realization that her friend wasn't taking her seriously. She settled for plunking herself down on the sand dune that she had flown them to and rubbing Cassandra's shoulders to help her recover.

"I missed laughing like this," Cassandra said softly just before emitting a snort that didn't seem at all appropriate of a dark avenger. "And I missed you." The normally soft-spoken woman noticed that her words had caused Stephanie to shy away. "Why did you not tell me you were alive?"

"Why didn't _you _call The Batphone and come on back to Gotham City?" Stephanie asked in return.

"Because The Batman knew that I was alive! Mister Wayne knew that I could always come back!" Cassandra shouted back.

"Cassie. . . I. . . You were already gone and there was so much going on that. . ."

"I did not know that you were even alive because you did not tell me! For so long I wandered from place to place not knowing what I should do! I cried for you!"

Stephanie wrapped her arms around Cassandra's neck and pulled her closer, wafting shushing sounds into her beleaguered friend's ears.

"Oh, Cassie. Sweety. You broody, ill-tempered little mush rump. I'm so sorry. I'm just a little scaredy cat. I stopped counting how many times I talked myself out of looking for you. I was there at Connor Kent's funeral, ready to make my grand reappearance, but then I saw you and Tim and I just chickened out."

"But _why_? Tim and I would have loved to see you."

"But I'm not sure if I would have," Stephanie replied as she let go of her friend and backed away so she could look Cassandra in the eyes. "I died an absolute failure, Cass, and I came back to Gotham a real hero. I came back being able to do all the things I've always wanted to do and I just put it upon myself to make a fresh start. A small part of me kept thinking that if I went back to some part of my old life then I would just turn back into that stupid little girl who could never do anything right!"

Stephanie turned away again, not able to look her friend in the eyes after her confession. Her unkempt mane of blonde hair hid her eyes as she turned away once again.

"I just wanted to keep being something special. I wanted to be more like you."

Cassandra burst into laughter almost immediately. The barking laughter caused Stephanie to snap out of her funk and quickly launch into anger.

"What the hell is that?! Shit on a stick, Cassie! I'm trying to unburden my soul here and you act like I'm launching into the Dead Parrot Sketch!"

The raven-haired woman continued to snicker although it was clear that she was trying to stifle herself. "Stephanie! You tried to teach me how to read even when Oracle wished to give up. You fought alongside me and always did whatever you could to help the people of Gotham. I only wish I could have as much heart and will as you have."

Stephanie raised her right hand to her hair after taking a moment to let Cassandra's statements sink in. She lifted her rogue bangs to one side, as if to see if it was safe to come out. "You know, we are being unusually sappy here." She used both hands to lift her hair back and put it back into some semblance of order. "Not to mention unusually verbose. You've really brushed up on your English, Miss Cain."

"It has been four years since I first came to Gotham, Stephanie. I have been learning to speak and read English ever since. I had to learn how to do so sooner or later."

Stephanie nodded with a smile. "Could use some work on your contractions though. Minor grammatical miscues are your friends, you know."

Cassandra responded with a tiny smile. "I will remember that."

The continued formality of Cassandra's speech caused Stephanie to laugh again. "So you think this new gig'll work out for you? Working with this Scandal chica and her little gang of miscreants?"

"I believe so. Both Scandal and Mister Blake are very good people that require direction. Perhaps that is something that I can provide."

"Isn't that sort of the blind leading the blind?" Stephanie asked as she bopped her offended friend on the shoulder. "Ah! I'm just teasin'! I know you'll be awesome. However, I can't help but notice that, with you on the team, The Secret Six currently has seven members."

"Yes. Deadshot has told me that they have never been able to get the numbers right. Besides, it's become clear to me that Gotham is already in good hands."

"Oh yeah," the blonde-haired girl said with a grin. "We've got a killer team on our hands." She paused, noticing the hesitant frown on Cassandra's face. "And I could have made a better choice with my response, couldn't I?"

"It is all right. Batman explained a great deal of it to me."

"Yeah, he's pretty cool like that, isn't he?" Robin said with an almost conspiratorial grin. "And, I'll be honest, that's just another reason why I was a little leery about getting back together with you and Timbo. I know that things are getting better in Gotham but things are always hairy and something tells me that it's about to get even hairier. We don't really know what we're facing right now but I do know that I have to start getting serious. My best friend almost got iced today because I fell asleep at the wheel and that shit just ain't kosher."

Cassandra nodded. She didn't have the slightest idea what kosher meant but she got the gist of it. "Just remember to keep in touch. And also remember that you tend to do a better job when you are happy."

"Ah, what do you know?" Stephanie asked with a dubious glint in her eyes. "And I'd also like to point out that I've got real friends now, friends who don't hit me when they don't want to deal with me anymore. Why should I take your advice. . ."

Robin looked up and caught Cassandra's fingers, the lean points of bone and sinew only inches away from her carotid artery. She gave her sneaky friend a wicked glare and received the same in return.

"Don't even think about it. I'm still not certain if I'm morally above kicking your ass."

The two friends shared another round of laughter.

* * *

"You'll pardon me if you take this as an insult," Talia began as she handed her former lover a glass of fresh mineral water, "but I believe my father would be quite proud of what you have become."

Bruce Wayne, now rid of his heavy cape and cowl, accepted the offering without any hesitation. "Well, allow me to assure you that your father's approval had absolutely nothing to do with it." He took a sip from the crystal goblet, watching Talia's reaction to his first salvo before pressing the offensive. "I did what I had to do to ensure the safety of the people of Gotham, the people on this planet, and the people I have come to care for."

"Yes, because my father was hardly a fan of such utilitarian arguments," Talia saucily countered.

Bruce sighed and shook as head as Talia's smirk became just enough to be enticing. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Do not feel too bad, Bruce. Even the best of us are subject to verbal miscues."

"Indeed we are," Bruce replied as he encircled the rim of his glass with his fingertips. "And keeping to the current topic of discussion, perhaps you could explain the logic behind some of your recent decisions."

"Why, beloved, whatever do you mean?" Talia unnecessarily inquired.

"Well, you chose to kill your father, ally yourself with a group of individuals that you detested, and now you sit here before me declaring that you have seen the error of your ways. Now I recognize that our particular relationship has had an unhealthy share of ups and downs so I'm sure you can see why I would be hesitant to take something like this at face value."

Talia kept her cool demeanor, refusing to give her opponent an inch. "You are not the only one who is searching for their place in life, Bruce."

"I don't recall mentioning that I was dealing with that particular conundrum."

"Then allow me to examine your own recent decisions. You undergo a bitter separation from your colleagues of many years. However, instead of attempting to settle your differences as you have so many times before you choose instead to recruit a gaggle of teenagers who are the emotional opposites of your former associates. You change your philosophy of battle, a series of beliefs that has defined you for over two decades, and are now the trusted advisor of three people who have the potential of becoming the most dangerous people on this planet if they are not so already."

Talia placed her now empty glass onto the table that separated the two of them. "Now, with all this assembled evidence, I can only presume that you are either searching for your place or are undergoing some bizarre form of sleepwalking."

"And here I considered myself to be the detective in this relationship," Bruce tartly replied.

"You still are," Talia acquiesced. "However, I hope you will not continue to dispute my hypothesis. And, as I choose not to demean your pursuit to find yourself, I hope you will choose to extend that same kindness."

"Such a gesture would require some element of trust, Talia. And, unless you require reminding, that is something that you exhausted from me a long time ago."

Talia pulled back despite of herself, surprised that she could be stung by such words. Bruce, on the other hand, took her response as the first, genuine sign that her claims to find a new path to be genuine.

"I apologize for that," Bruce said sincerely.

"It is unnecessary."

"No, it is." Bruce drained the rest of his goblet and placed it back onto the table. "You know, I seem to recall a time when we were capable of having a peaceful conversation where we didn't assault each other with psychobabble."

"So it is not just me who remembers that," Talia replied with a peaceful smile as she moved to refill both her and Bruce's glasses.

"All right then, beloved," Bruce continued, parroting Talia's pet name for him with a depreciatory tone that caused her to chuckle. "What do you want to receive from these grand changes?"

Talia sat back once again, taking her glass full of water with her. "Perhaps I've grown weary of needless warfare and would like to do what I can to create a peaceful world. Perhaps I have come to believe that a good world can be created without resorting to my father's designs." She took a deep breath, allowing Bruce to feel the weariness in her words. "And perhaps a small part of me is looking to find a life that I could share with an equal."

Bruce took a moment to swallow that confession along with a bit of mineral water. "You're placing a lot of faith that I'll just come running back to you," he said with an upraised eyebrow and a hint of bemusement.

Talia responded with that alluring glower that made his heartstrings tighten. She fixed the mischievous twinkle in his eyes with her standard cold glare although her eyes were not near as wintry. "And _you _clearly think far too much of yourself."

The former lovers chuckled again.

"I'll be honest with you, Talia. There's too much in the air right now for me to be making that kind of promise to anyone. To be honest, I'm not certain if there ever will be a time when I can. . ." he paused as he strained to find the right words, ". . .do that."

Talia bobbed her head up and down for a moment before raising her glass to eye level. "Bruce, I understand. For now, I suggest we be content and drink to the joyous reunion of father and child, the imprisonment of Jade Nguyen, and the genesis of what I hope to be a long and beneficial alliance."

"I believe I can be content with that," Bruce replied as the two of them charged their glasses.

"Starting, of course, with you explaining how I will be compensated for the damage done to my storehouse and for when Miss Brown so recklessly crashed through the roof of my compound," Talia added.

Bruce Wayne shook his head. "Ever the businesswoman."

"But of course," Talia replied. "Honestly, beloved. Would you have me any other way?"

Though he saw no need to tell her, The Batman knew that he most certainly would not.

* * *

Scandal took a moment to goggle at the swell of bizarre individuals clustered around the foyer of Talia Al-Ghul's main compound. The combined members of The Misfits and The Secret Six, with the exceptions of The Batman and Noah Kuttler, were divided into small clusters, each of which appeared to be engaged in friendly conversation. Catman, unmasked and cradling his son in his burly arms, was being merrily accosted by a cooing Robin and a much more reserved Batgirl, each of whom appeared to want to have a closer look at the sleeping babe. Deadshot's little group, consisting of Nightwing, Ragdoll, and Arrowette, were all laughing like fools, a display no doubt due to some bawdy jape or punch line.

It was within the third gathering of individuals that the daughter of Vandal Savage found what she was looking for. Her lover appeared to be in control of the conversation there, Kay's raucous intonations and gesticulations easily dominating the proceedings. It was hardly an uncommon occurrence, given Knockout's innate thirst for battle and the excitement that seemed to bubble and boil for some time after. Sometimes it was the cause of embarrassment, Scandal had to admit, but she currently much more concerned with the fact that she was safe.

Additionally, the three listeners did not seem to be offended by the loud display. Victor Fries looked to be listening patiently, his usual calm demeanor refusing to betray any hint of irritation. The other two participants seemed to be paying attention as well, looking rather serene despite what the both of them had recently gone through according to their louder compatriot. The two of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder, huddled as close to one another as possible without actually making contact. If either one of them had an issue about the proximity they didn't appear to want to voice it.

Scandal broke into the conversation by tapping the statuesque former Fury on the shoulder and allowing Knockout to pull her into a brief, tender kiss.

"Well, don't mind us, shrew," Lloyd broke in with a drawl. "Just get what you want out of this and then pop out."

Scandal ignored Lloyd's acrid commentary, keeping her eyes solely on Kay. "Did you have a good time, darling?"

"My blood is still singing, poppet," Knockout replied with an alluring purr. "However, I believe that you and I can find something more entertaining to do with our time."

"Always, my love," Scandal replied with a throaty sigh. "However," she continued as she locked eyes with Lloyd, "right now I need to speak with my little brother."

"_Little brother?!" _Kara shrieked.

"An affectionate title only, pet," Lloyd said reassuringly. "And I hope that this has something to do with why you chose to confront your bastard father without letting me back you up."

Scandal slipped out of Knockout's embrace just as Lloyd broke away from Kara. The two met in the middle with a warm embrace. "I'm sorry, little brother," she said with her chin perched on Lloyd's shoulder. "It was just something I had to do for myself. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, luv," Lloyd said warmly just before the two of them pulled away. "I just don't like my big sister getting into scraps without lettin' me try to keep her safe. Y'know, chauvinistic propriety and all that bunk."

"I am the older sister, Mister Thomas," Scandal shot back with a winsome smile. "I hardly require your protection."

"Past history claims otherwise," Lloyd replied. "However, I will not deny that you are, in fact, the older sister. Exceedingly older, as a matter of fact. . . oi!" he yelped as he endured a well-deserved slug to the shoulder. "Wotcher! You'll hurt your knuckles doin' that!" he warned before being whacked again.

Scandal needed to take a moment to work through her laughter. Her recovery had been somewhat stymied by the fact that the Kryptonian female had somehow managed to inch her way forward until she was once again at Lloyd's side. The suspicious look in Kara's eyes was not at all settling.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Scandal asked without further delay, hardly wanting to test her impressive durability against an unnecessarily jealous young woman who needed only a second to incinerate everything within a one-mile radius. Then, not able to help herself, she added, "that is, if Miss Zor-el is willing to let you out of her sights for a moment."

Kara blushed as she backpedaled away without making eye contact, as if she was finally aware of what she was doing. Lloyd, on the other hand, gave Scandal a somewhat cross look before taking her by the hand and beginning to fly her over the dunes of the former Ottoman Empire.

* * *

"So this is how you employ your incredible talents?" Scandal asked Lloyd in a teasing manner. "Is The Black Dog truly content to stay in the employ of a reticent vigilante and in the arms of a doe-eyes Kryptonian?"

"Says the chit who hangs 'er hat in a place called The House of Secrets and spends her nights with one of Darkseid's former commanders who just happened to fall in love with me saber at first sight."

Scandal couldn't help but laugh and Lloyd laughed right along with her. "She makes me happy, Lloyd."

Lloyd recovered quickly as well. "Well, if she makes you happy then she's good in my book. An' as for me and Zor-el, well, I'm not really certain what to make of that yet."

"Why on Earth not? What? Is it because she's 17?"

"That's just a tiny piece to the puzzle, sis. Oh, and by the way, you're the last person I will ever take advice from when it comes to pursuing a relationship with a minor."

Scandal shook her head. "Lloyd David Thomas, you are the single most hypercritical 19-year-old in this world's history," she declared. "She obviously cares for you and, judging from the fact that you're already thinking of excuses, you obviously care for her as well."

"Scandal, I'm _really_ hoping we didn't fly all the way over here so you could give me relationship advice," Lloyd said flatly.

"Ah, so I am now known as _Scandal_. Not shrew or pet or luv or big sis or any other derogatory moniker you use to distance yourself away from the people who come to care about you."

"Scandal. . ."

"All right, all right," Scandal yielded. "I'll let that go. For now. The important thing is that you've found a place that makes you happy. As long as you've got that then I really don't have anything else to complain about."

"I have," Lloyd answered sincerely. "And you seem to have done so as well, judging from the smile that came to your face as I say these words. An' don't get me wrong. I'd love to have Zor-el on me arm but. . . there's just a lot goin' on right now."

The smile hastily faded away from Scandal's face and she cast her eyes down to the ground. "You know who it is, don't you? I've ran through all the facts a thousand times."

"So have I," Lloyd interrupted. "So has Batman. There's no doubt e's got some pretty powerful people at his beck and call but it's 'im at the controls. The only other possible suspects are dead or participatin' in this conversation."

Scandal looked up again, worry evident in her eyes. "I just want to know one thing, Lloyd. What happens when the time comes that you have to fight him? Do you honestly believe you'll be able to do what needs to be done? Because you know he will, he'll do it in a heartbeat."

Lloyd shook his head. "I can't believe that. There's gotta be a reason."

"The reason is because he is a rotten bastard and you just need to accept that," Scandal said sternly.

Now it was Lloyd who was forced to tilt his eyes down to the sand. "An' how am I any better than he is, shrew?"

Scandal wrapped her arms around Lloyd once again. "Because I said so," she said with her face inches from his neck. "And when the time comes, I'm going to be at your side to remind you of that."

* * *

The others were only minutes away by the time Noah had finally managed to peel off the final piece of his ridiculous costume. Entrusting it to the care of Alfred Pennyworth, who had been instructed to rid the world of the fashion monstrosity, he quickly fired up his communications relay to make sure that everyone was all right. After confirming that, he chose to occupy the last few moments of his spare time by keeping tabs on both teams as they returned to their respective bases of operations. Interestingly enough, the two separate groups were discussing the same topic.

"So how do you know Vandal Savage?" Nightwing asked.

"She's another one of Mao's former students," Lloyd replied. "We worked with each other for about a year-and-a-half before she left out on her own. . ."

* * *

"Best partner I ever had, no offense to all of you," Scandal explained. "I can't even count the number of times he pulled my fat out of the fire."

"You referred to him as your little brother," Victor Fries threw in. "Such a title does not imply a simple partnership."

Scandal chuckled. "Well, that's another story. . ."

* * *

"It was about four years ago," Lloyd began. "Mao sent us to scope out one of Vandal Savage's operations. Unbeknownst to 'im, the operation turned out to be this major deal where the old caveman was using time travel to assemble what he thought to be the perfect army. And, lucky us, we were the first ones to discover it."

"Heaven alone knows how we managed to survive," Scandal went on with a wistful shake of her head. "However, we ultimately managed to ruin my father's plans and return to Hong Kong. We were both on the brink of emotional exhaustion, I for having endured another row with my father and Lloyd for reasons that do not require mentioning here. We were both there for one another and, well, one thing led to another and. . ."

* * *

"You and _Scandal Savage_?" Nightwing screeched.

"I'm not sayin' it's me crowning moral achievement," Lloyd answered. "An' besides, I was 15, I always had a bit of a crush on her, and I never, well, really. . ."

"Woahwoahwoahwoahwoahwoah!" Arrowette interrupted. "You mean to tell us. . ."

* * *

"YOU POPPED THE KID'S CHERRY?!" Deadshot roared.

"So he says," Scandal replied.

"Jesus H. Christ, Savage! The kid was 15!"

"He was also a very sweet young man who was there for me when I needed someone the most. An', since all the cards are out on the table, never underestimate the advantages of having sex with a telepath, even if he doesn't have any idea where anything goes."

"OH, GOD!" Deadshot said as he hastily turned away and focused on the view of the skyline from the passenger seat. "That's it! I'm getting tanked the moment we get home. The less I remember about all this, the better off I'll be."

"And that's all there is to it?" Knockout asked, her eyebrow raised and her green eyes twinkling.

"That's all there is to it, Kay. He's my little brother and I'll always be there but I assure you that is as far as our relationship goes."

"Very well," the former Fury replied. "I would not have enjoyed ripping off the arms and testicles off such a noble warrior."

* * *

"See! That's all it is, Kare Bear!" Stephanie said as Batman maneuvered the aircraft into its assigned position in the hangar beneath Wayne Manor. "There's no need for you to go track down Scandal and rip her head off!"

"Oh, just shut up! I'm going to bed." Kara growled as she stomped off the plane and made her way past Noah's work station and up to her room. Lloyd and the rest of the youngsters came down soon after, with Dick and the girls clustered around their field general thus preventing him from going after Kara even if he chose to do so.

Batman, as per usual, was the last to exit. He swept through the caverns with a tired stride, his cape fluttering behind him as he moved. Noah gave his interpretation of tonight's activities in Gotham a final once over in his mind, his anticipation for amazed reactions reaching its peak.

"I know we left you in a bit of a lurch tonight, Noah," Bruce said with a voice that was at the brink of exhaustion. "Was there any unusual activity in Gotham tonight?"

Noah found he had to pause before he could reply.

"Nothing that can't wait until morning. You should get some sleep."

His old friend didn't even bother to voice a response, preferring instead to stalk up the steps leading to his room and the king-sized bed calling to him.

The man with the brown suspenders and the wire-rimmed spectacles was rather surprised to find that he didn't feel the least hint of irritation. Truth be told, he was never a big fan of the spot light or of the few occasions when it chose to shine upon him. He was infinitely more comfortable staying in his little place in the world, lending a hand to those that would handle that kind of attention a whole lot better. He wasn't cut out to be a hero, nor did he want to be one.

So Noah Kuttler took a sip from his cup of coffee, nibbled a bit of raisin toast, and went back to work.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Good gravy, this chapter was longer than I thought it would be! Speaking of which, it's been brought to my attention that The Misfits is now the longest single Batman comic book story on. Yes, I know there are series that are a lot longer but I'll take any kind of distinction I can get. Now I need to get to work on breaking that reviews record, which is a long ways away and is something I can't do alone. SO YOU BETTER GIVE ME 20 REVIEWS OR I WON'T WRITE ANOTHER ISSUE!!

Oh, who am I kidding. Yes, I will. That being said, I would like to hear from you.

Issue #45 Preview

Batman knows who the bad guy is. Lloyd knows who the bad guy is. Scandal Savage knows who the bad guy is. The only problem is that you guys don't but, believe me, you're going to find out soon. You've probably got some other questions that need answering now that I think about it. For example, how the hell _did_ Harley and Mistah J get out of Arkham Asylum? Or, perhaps more specifically, _who _got them out, and what that has to do with The Misfits possibly getting two more recruits. _Fixing Broken Toys_ begins in the next installment of The Misfits: Do You See What I See? Until then, remember to say what you mean and write what you feel!


	45. Do You See What I See?

Issue #45

Do You See What I See?

It had been a while since Bruce Wayne had a reason to make his way to Cartier's. He had no desire to peruse the baubles and jewels located inside or to include the high-end store as part of his standard patrols. After all, only one person in Gotham City possessed the courage to break into the exhibition room where the precious jewels were on display, the skill to do so successfully, and the intelligence to either avoid or tamper with the superb surveillance equipment found inside.

Bruce found this out on the first night he had met Selina Kyle. It was a night in which every single aspect of his evening contained something that he could be infuriated about. He was irritated by his compulsion to investigate the robbery when there were more important things to be doing, annoyed that it took him far more time and effort to unlock the mystery than he anticipated, and he was particularly maddened by the beguiling, insufferable, captivating, unbearable woman who turned out to be guilty of that particular crime.

Richard once told him that while his love for Talia Al-Ghul was rooted in his thirst for perfection. However, his love for Selina Kyle was stemmed in the inevitability of chaos, the part of him that relished that there was something that still needed to be fixed. Even Selina's choice for a meeting place, a glaring reminder of their many conflicted encounters, could easily be construed as yet another of her many efforts to turn his life (and perhaps his mood) upside down. However, despite Selina's maneuvering, Bruce found himself to be quite at ease while his latest former girlfriend perused a hard copy of one of his personal files.

"So you're running the streets of Gotham with a gold medal winner," Selina said as she clamped the file of Cecilia King-Jones shut. "That's a bit of a step up from picking up somebody off the street or from the circus."

Bruce yanked the file away, an easy thing to do given that the two of them were sitting side-by-side on the rooftop overlooking the rest of the Gotham fashion district. "I should have never have let Dick get within 50 yards of you."

"Afraid I was going to corrupt your junior partner?" Selina asked with her throaty purr.

"Well, that and the number of times you tried to kill him."

"What former girlfriend of yours _hasn't_ tried to kill that poor boy?"

Bruce honestly had to give that question a bit of thought. "I'm relatively certain that Vicki didn't have it out for him."

"That's because she was too busy looking for a headline datelined from Wayne Manor," Selina said with a grunt as she stretched across Bruce to snatch Lloyd's file. "Well, you've got quite a team here, my cranky dark knight. The only thing you're missing is a Flash."

Bruce grumbled again. "I knew you would think that."

Selina laughed loudly. "Well, it's not like you did a hell of a job to hide it!" she said through her chuckles. "Steffie's your Green Lantern, Miss Zor-el's taking the place of the Big Blue Boy Scout," the fetching vigilante momentarily halted her diagnosis. "Is Lloyd supposed to be Xena or Marvin the Martian?"

"He's both. Thankfully, he refuses to wear a one-piece swimsuit." Bruce replied, causing Selina's merriment to return in full force. "And I'd also like to point out that I don't have an Aquaman."

"Yes, because having somebody who can talk to fish is an integral piece to the crime fighting puzzle."

"He was always a damn sight more useful than a morally susceptible vigilante with a bullwhip."

Selina tilted her eyebrows upward. "Well, I've missed out on a boatload, haven't I?" She began to swing her legs back and forth over the edge of the rooftop. It took a couple taps against the granite before she was ready to keep going. "And I've lost my spot, haven't I?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to explain that statement before I feel confident enough to respond."

"I bet you do," Selina replied, not the least bit convinced. "I'm talking about that idiotic little smirk you put on your face whenever you feel what your warped little mind construes to be happiness. I felt a whole lot of pride in my being able to break you out of that funk that you like to put yourself in, I'll have you know. As a matter of fact, I was fully anticipating having to spend half the night trying to dig out your rarely seen social side."

Bruce didn't smile quite yet. He wanted to see where she was going with this. "And now?"

"And now I realize that I didn't have to do a thing. Which begs these questions: which of your acquaintances compel you to flash that charming little smirk of yours and should I be inclined to scratch their eyes out?"

The reticent man did not immediately reply, preferring instead to occupy his eyes with the sun beginning its slow slip down the western sky.

"It's Stephanie, isn't it?" Selina asked. "I always did say that girl was either going to get herself promoted or get herself killed."

Bruce shook his head, turning to face Selina as he did so. "It's all of them. I have to admit that I wasn't entirely certain what I would be getting into when I chose to bring them into my life. My only real intent was to teach them to be different than the people I worked with in the past, to be better. And they already are. They've taken everything that's been thrown at them and everything I've thrown at them they keep coming back for more. I left them to watch over Gotham and they turned this town into something better than I could make it and I. . . I feel proud that I may have had something to do it."

"Why, Bruce Wayne: long-running champion pessimist," Selina asked with a lazy smile. "Are you trying to tell me that you're happy?"

Bruce fixed Selina with the coldest of glares. Selina, to her inestimable credit, did not budge an inch.

"I don't _do _happy."

The former cat burglar responded with a snappy, military salute. She held the gesture just long enough to dissolve Bruce's disdain and force him into bemusement.

"All right, so now I'm going to have to figure out my new role here in this big, bad city," she said with a helping of resolve. "That shouldn't be too much trouble though. After all," Selina murmured as she scooted in closer, "I am well known for my flexibility."

"Indeed you are," Bruce agreed, not even remotely inclined to pull away as Selina moved to kiss him on the lips. He felt the brief jolt of electricity that always seemed to glimmer between them, that undeniable ember which had steered him towards her as many times as it had pushed him away. She was someone that he would always be compelled to have but would never be comfortable with keeping. There was simply too much to get in the way.

But, as damning as it was, he couldn't avoid what he was feeling at that moment.

Selina was the first to pull away, a half-smile on her face and a calm look in her eyes. "Just remember to tell me the next time you drag your son off on a year-long vacation. I may not miss you when you're gone but I do like to know if somebody's looking over my shoulder."

"I will. And I apologize for not telling you."

"I think I'll live," Selina said as she rose to her feet and stretched to work out the kinks. Bruce tried his hardest to divert his gaze but the lazy smirk on Selina's face told him that his failure had not gone unnoticed.

"And I had been meaning to get in touch with you," Bruce continued as he stood up as well. "I've been hearing the most interesting rumors concerning just what you've been doing. You don't happen to have a child, do you?"

Selina groaned. "Please tell me you didn't believe in that garbage. Bruce, do I look like I have the time to mother a child?"

"I never thought that you actually were," Bruce answered in a rather reasonable fashion. "It's just a rumor I heard."

"I do _not _have a kid!"

"Selina, please try to calm down."

"I have a hard enough time squeezing myself into this damn thing! You think I would actually throw post-pregnancy pounds in the mix?"

"Selina, I understand."

"And Catwoman has been patrolling The East End almost non-stop for the last two years. Who the hell else is supposed to be in this suit besides me?!"

"Well, there is always your friend. Holly Robinson, I believe her name is?"

Now it was Bruce's turn to weather an exceedingly cold glare.

"I'd sooner go back to driving The Catmobile."

* * *

Dick Grayson stretched his triceps as he made his way down the steps serving as the passageway between Wayne Manor and The Batcave. Letting loose a small grunt of exertion as he hopped off the final stair, he made his way towards the central computer where his victim was hard at work. 

"You know, it just occurred to me that I've spent an unhealthy amount of time talking with people that are not my own age."

Noah continued tapping at his keyboard. If he could hear what Dick had just admitted to then he was doing a damn good job pretending not to.

Dick, of course, saw right through it. "I mean, I spent one year hanging out with my father and whatever aged fighting masters that were willing to take us in. I've spent the last couple months working with teenagers during my patrols in Bludhaven and Gotham. Don't get me wrong. Steph and the other tykes are perfectly good at holding their end of the conversation but the fact of the matter is that it's been far too long since I've had a serious conversation with anyone who either hasn't turned twenty or has already turned forty. It's downright unsettling."

The computer expert continued to plug away at whatever task he was undertaking.

"C.C., I'm just going to keep talking until you give me something to work with. If I can break Bruce then I can most certainly break you."

The older man seriously considered the option of continuing to ignore the prattling younger man. However, after perusing all available options, he surrendered to the inevitable.

"Well, you'll pardon me for my disinterest but I find that, despite my diligent efforts, I simply cannot find any reason to care about your current emotional struggles. I hope you will pardon me."

"That's okay," Dick replied as he leaned against the main console. "I just figured a socially-deprived loser like you would be interested in hearing about someone who is actively looking for somebody to talk to. Give you a bit of inspiration."

That comment finally got Noah to turn away from his monitor. "I never considered you to be such a sacrificial soul."

"Well, I am a giver," Nightwing pointed out as he turned his attention to the screen. "And just what happens to be drawing your attention?"

"I am reexamining the security footage of The Joker's containment cell at Arkham on the day that he and Harleen Quinzel escaped. Bruce instructed me to give it another once over and, truth be told, I must admit that I find this particular mystery to be quite intriguing."

"Doesn't sound too fascinating to me," Dick said as he pulled up a chair. "That murderer's gotten out of the nuthouse more times than I feel comfortable counting."

"So. . . five then?"

Dick expressed to Noah how he felt about that half-hearted inquiry with the help of his middle finger.

Noah took no offense and turned his attention back toward the security footage. "Normally I would agree with you. However, the security protocols installed by Waynetech and Tenryu Enterprises should have made The Joker's escape an almost impossibility."

"And just what, pray tell, do these advances include?"

"Well, it was quite the inspired renovation. In fact, Arkham has quite possibly become the most technologically advanced containment facility known by the general public. However, the specific measure that is currently in suspicion is the installment of motion sensors within all high-level containment facilities."

"I see," Dick replied with a nod. "And The Joker was placed in one of these rooms?"

"Of course."

"And those sensors were tripped?"

"Indeed they were," Noah replied. "However, the surveillance footage, which had not been manipulated and remained active throughout the incident, clearly indicates that no one either entered or left the room."

"So what are we thinking here?" Dick asked as he scooted his chair forward, his countenance a clear indication that he had grown interested. "Transmat portal? Matter displacement? Invisibility? Individual teleportation?"

Noah shook his head. "I considered invisibility but that wouldn't explain why the door doesn't appear to move either. Any of the other examples would have left some kind of energy signature or physical scarring within the cell." He began tapping at the keyboard, his latest command causing hundreds of images to appear on the main monitor and the monitors surrounding it. "Both Lloyd and Stephanie spent two hours searching that cell and found nothing."

"I'm sure the sprout loved that investigation," Dick guessed as he shifted his eyes from picture to picture.

"Actually, she insisted upon being allowed to listen to music while she conducted her investigation."

"But of course. However, that does not explain why I'm now looking at several hundred pictures that look exactly the same?"

"Mister Grayson, we are looking at the sum footage of the last one-thousandth of a second that The Joker spent within that cell. I have divided it into 500 separate units in the hopes of finding any kind of discrepancy."

"And they couldn't do this at Arkham?" Dick asked as he moved closer to one of the side monitors.

"Not with their equipment," Noah replied as he chose his own side monitor to peruse. "However, I've got a bit of a technological leg up."

Dick nodded and went to work.

* * *

_Bath, England_

Not even the pungent smell of the steam engine could detract from the pleasure Lloyd felt as he embraced the sights and smells of the English countryside. He had spent so long inhaling the busy, occupied air of Gotham and Hong Kong that the scent of sun-dappled grass was almost a surprise to the senses. Even with the import of his task at hand and the uncertainty that came with what he had to do, the sights and smells still managed to soothe his nerves if only for a bit.

It had been his idea to travel the last leg of the journey by train. It was no trouble to teleport into London due to the many metahuman hotspots that could be found in the nation's capital. However, in order to get to where he needed to be, particularly if he wanted to avoid the attention of others, he knew he would have to employ a subtler method of teleportation. The fact that he had yearned to travel on a steamer train for years now was all that Lloyd required to figure out just what means of transportation he would employ.

Neither Mao nor Scandal could ever quite understand his desire to get away from the hustle and bustle that had surrounded them for decades. In their defense, the both of them had always been comfortable with the coexisting glare and solitude of life in an urban metropolis. It was where they were comfortable. Neither one of them had that ever-present, festering yearning to distance themselves away from the noise and the havoc as he did.

Unencumbered by the need to fiddle with the luggage carts, Lloyd slipped both of his hands in the pockets of his jeans, strolled off the platform with a lazy amble, and began to make his way out of the railway station. No one paid him any mind as he swerved and twisted his way through the bustle and crowd. In fact, his journey would have been completely unencumbered were it not for a young lady, who was no older than five and heedless of the obstructions in front of her, who crashed into his legs as she dashed through the central corridor.

Lloyd used a hint of his speed to ease the girl before she fell on her back and bum. "Woah there, li'l bit," he warned in an amiable fashion. "Want to watch where you're going there, yeah?"

"I'm sorry, mister," the girl replied with a distinct American lilt.

"Thas all right. Still, you shouldn't be runnin' about a crowded place like this. Give your mum and dad quite a fright."

The young lady nodded as Lloyd's words proved correct. A young couple was coming their way, their arms encumbered with hastily gathered luggage. Lloyd was momentarily cautious, well-aware of how an anxious parent may respond to seeing their recently lost child talking to a stranger. Choosing to go the safer route, Lloyd knelt down and showed the little girl where her parents were before sending her on her way. Mother, father, and daughter were reunited several steps later, momentary fear and anxiousness giving way to utter relief.

"Oh, thank goodness," the mother exclaimed as she wrapped her daughter up in her arms. The older woman then looked at him with watery, blue eyes. "Thank you very much, young man. She just took off and. . ."

"No problem at all, ma'am. Happy I could help." Lloyd took a moment to watch over the happy reunion, quietly wondering when the daughter would receive her well-deserved reprimand. "Something tells me the lot of you aren't from around here?"

"Oh, yes," the father replied. He was a thin fellow with messy, jet-black hair and looked to be just started on the road to recovery from a very stressful event. The older man seemed to be determined to shake his hand but was so wrapped up in his luggage that he couldn't work a limb free. "We were supposed to meet a friend of mine here at the station but he's running a little late. We're going to Bristol in a couple days to see Elvis Costello."

"Bugger all," Lloyd said honestly. "Didn't have any idea he was playin' 'ere. I'm quite the fan myself."

"Oh, he's wonderful," the mother spoke up, her daughter now safely scooped up into her arms. "Unlike this little rascal, who's going to get a firm talking to about running off where we can't see her."

The daughter began to whine and pout, although the girl's relief of being back with her loving family seemed to take a lot of the vim out of it. Lloyd chuckled at the little exchange while, out of the corner of his eye, he could see a woman with bushy, brown hair and a very familiar smile observing the happy reunion as well.

"Well, I should probably be on my way," Lloyd announced as he kept his eyes on the interloper. "Afraid I've got pressing matters to attend to."

The father finally managed to work himself free from his suitcases and gave Lloyd a surprisingly hearty handshake. "All right, you take care, sir. Thank you so very much."

Lloyd almost had to tear himself free from all the gratefulness sent his way as he made his way towards the unruffled interloper. The young woman did not even bother to hide the fact that she had been staring right at him and, when he drew closer, primly crossed her right leg over her left and looked up at her with a look of supposed absolute innocence.

"All right. And who are you supposed to be?" Lloyd asked.

The young woman ran a hand through her shaggy locks. "Well, I'm supposed to be Hermione Granger. Noah gave me the idea when he let me borrow the image inducer and Stephanie thought it would be funny."

"Hated that last bloody book," Lloyd said with a grumble. "And I thought I told Batman that I didn't need any back-up on this."

"Then it looks like he didn't listen," Kara pointed out. "Imagine that."

"Well, if you're gonna tag along then at least pretend you're somebody more presentable."

"Wellllllllllll. How about Black Canary?" Kara asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Lloyd gave a weary roll of his eyes and walked away with a huff. "That's the last bloody time I tell Stephanie anything."

Kara giggled as she stood up from the bench she had been sitting on and jogged after her sulky partner. Of course, she couldn't help but notice that, when she caught up with him, he made no attempts to try and break away from her.

* * *

It had taken four hours, three full run-throughs and two very uncomfortable bouts with eye strain before Dick and Noah found what they were looking for. It was in shot number 372, a picture taken at 7:13 in the evening during the two-hundred fifty eight thousand seven-hundred and forty second five-hundred thousandth of the 23rd second. 

It was hard to believe that they didn't see it sooner.

It started out as nothing but a barely perceptible yellow blur, a perfectly reasonable circumstance given the time frame that the camera had been operating upon. Fortunately, Noah's visual clarification technology allowed the both of them the opportunity to get a better look. Unfortunately, the effort involved in doing so transformed into a phenomenally exhausting game of trial and error that ultimately became a bizarre game where Noah would adjust one frequency or another while Dick would reply whether or not it had made the image "better" or "worse". Thankfully, when Alfred came down the steps to freshen their beverages, he did not ask them if they were attempting to pirate pornography.

Finally, long after the both of them had teetered and fallen off the bridge of frustration; the two of them had found what they were looking for. The color of the blur had already been a significant clue but it wasn't until they had seen the red lightning bolts on the man's mask and the scarlet flame in the man's eyes that the two of them were able to remove all doubt.

"Mister Grayson," Noah announced with bubbling excitement. "I give you Hunter Zolomon. Also known, at least to your former colleagues who would have never been able to figure out this mystery, as Zoom or the third Reverse Flash."

The acrobat gave the picture a nod as he struggled against his own enthusiasm. It didn't take long at all for him to surrender to it. He let out a _whoop _of triumph and, before Noah could even try to stop him, grabbed the sides of the hacker's head and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I supposed I should be pleased by your reaction," Noah assessed as he hastily brought his ever-present handkerchief up to the offended cheek in order to wipe off any trace of residue. "I do hope that you responded to Miss Gordon's efforts with similarly disturbing displays of enthusiasm."

"Yeah, but her cheeks were always cold," Dick replied as he rapped Noah about the shoulders. "All right then. Go ahead, get on the horn, and tell Batman and the sprout," he requested as he made his way toward the vehicle bay. "All this sitting and watching's made me hungry for patrollin'. I don't know how you stay down here all this time just sitting on your rump."

"The better to avoid your lips, my dear," Calculator replied stiffly.

* * *

No one noticed Hunter Zolomon as he ran through Moscow, Vienna, Athens, and Paris. His sprint across the Atlantic Ocean was undisturbed and now, as he maneuvered through the wilds of the Brazilian rain forest, even the thick air seemed to pass over him without the slightest whit of attention. 

There was a reason behind all of this. His ability to alter time around him, to travel thousands of miles before anyone could bat an eye, allowed him a unique kind of secrecy and solitude. As a matter of fact, he was one of the few people on this planet who could, if he chose to do so, go through his entire life without having to be seen by anyone. No one was more aware of this than he and there had been many instances where the former F.B.I. agent had contemplated such an existence.

However, as fast as he went and as slow as the other people around him seemed to be, he could never outrace his thoughts.

He thought what he did at Metropolis would have made everything crystal clear. His astonishing revelation, born upon a raging battlefield where two powerful armies fought in order to solidify their own destinies, was designed to give his long-conflicted mind some necessary peace.

He had long since grown weary of life's complexities; the questions. How could a spawn of a murdering monster be able to bring anything good into this world? Why had he been paralyzed just because he wanted to do what was right? Why was he dragged back to this painful existence after he had been certain that he had escaped from it?

Hero. Villain. Good guy. Bad guy. Teacher. Absolute monster. He had been given all these labels and he was so tired of trying to separate them. He only wanted a simple answer.

And he knew that this was how he would get it.

His target was almost a half-mile away, the young man enmeshed in a struggle with some bizarre mutant monstrosity that wasn't even worth mentioning. Heroes and villains were fighting and dying all around him, his unique abilities allowing him to see it all if he chose to do so. He would have considered it to be an awe-inspiring scene, quite worthy of being called a "crisis", as so many news sources would later label it, but he currently had a more important matter on his mind. He crossed the distance before most of his fellow participants could blink an eye. His focus, confidence, and desire for serenity easily overwhelmed the bizarre allure of the battle around him as if the young man was singing a siren's song.

Bart Allen didn't see him coming. However, his young teammates could see the splash of blood, the gaping laceration across their friend's throat, and the tear in the boy's neck that was far too deep to possibly heal from. Cassandra Sandsmark gave off a terrible shriek so he shut her up with a fist to the jaw. He continued to wreak havoc, breaking Mia Dearden's arm and knocking Baron Blood's head clean off his shoulders before he was found by the man he had been looking to summon with his reprehensible deed.

He couldn't pay attention to what The Flash was saying the first two times they had circumnavigated the planet (although it was safe to say that the words were hardly pleasant). He was far too enmeshed within the clarity of what he had done. There was no more confusion over what he had become anymore, no way he could be redeemed. The lingering doubts that had flooded his cerebrum since his trip through the time stream were finally fading away.

_It all made sense_.

The firm grip that Wally West had upon him had negated his ability to manipulate time. They were caught within the same web, like so many times before, but now it was clear that the scarlet speedster was at the wheel. A small part of his splintered mind felt a flash of hope within the dire circumstance. This tragedy would make the man he had come to admire a better hero. Whether Wally chose to kill him or not, he knew that the young man had the strength to endure this tragedy and grow from it, just as he had so many times before.

Yes, Hunter Zolomon could quite honestly say that it was perhaps the most satisfying moment in his life. Now, however, the confusion was once again threatening to overwhelm him. His many months trapped within the Speed Force did not give him the solace and peace that he had hoped it would bring. He could only pray that his alliance with. . .

Zoom felt his legs incomprehensibly give out from under him. He had been so wrapped within his own thoughts that he was not capable of even conceiving the thought of being ambushed. However, given the fact that he was currently hovering several feet above the ground, his ankles bound together by a rope of emerald energy, it was quite obvious that he was.

"Yeeeeeehaw!" Robin exclaimed as she lowered herself closer to the ground, a green, spectral cowboy hat perched upon her head, "I just lassoed me up a mustard-colored asshole! YEEEEEEHAWWWWWWW!"

He found no reason to be impressed with the young woman's theatrics.

"Unhand me before I rip off your limbs."

"Now, now. Ain't no need fer all that." Robin warned with her faux-Western accent. "I just wanted to ask ya some questions. Now some colorful fella named The Joker broke out of the pokey a few weeks back and someone up yonder just tol' me that you had somethin' to do with it. Since I've got ya all trussed up I don't suppose you have anything to tell me about that, do ya?"

He continued to fix the young woman with a vicious stare. As he did so, his chocolate-brown eyes turned blood red.

"No, I don't."

He brought his full abilities to bear, accelerating every molecule of his body until he became intangible. Slipping free from the young woman's grasp, he used his phenomenal leg strength to twist his body and land safely on his feet. The maneuver clearly surprised Robin, thus allowing him to swoop in and hammer away, landing blows to the head, neck, shoulders, legs, and arms. Several dozen uncontested blows made their mark before Zoom swung his left hand towards the girl's throat.

And missed horribly.

"Ever heard of the rope-a-dope?" Robin asked without a trace of cowgirl. "Guess who's the dope?"

She kneed him in the ribs and it felt as if his body was on fire. The proceeding hooks to the head only served to fan the flames and the kick to the side of the neck left him in absolute agony. Although his accelerated metabolism would steer him towards a speedy recovery, the confident smirk on the young woman's face was a clear indication of who had come out the victor in that particular exchange.

"You think all this ring's good for is a bunch of pretty drawings, Zoomie? Naw, this little bauble is all about allowing me to manipulate energy sources. Y'know, like that wellspring of kinetic energy that you use to make yourself go fast and everybody around you go slow? Still, even though you don't have a chance in hell, feel free to try to run away or hit me again. Something tells me that I would really enjoy breaking your bones."

Hunter Zolomon rose to his feet, now fully recovered.

* * *

And then he was gone. 

He didn't try to run away. He didn't try and hit her. He was just gone.

"Oooooooookay," Robin said. "Could somebody explain to me what the hell was that? And I thought that your files said he couldn't do that vibraty thing!"

"He teleported, Robin," Noah replied. "And I apologize for the lack of information but I was unaware that he was capable of, well, the vibraty thing."

"That doesn't make any sense, C.C.! I was tracing his speed signature with my ring and now I'm not reading him anywhere. How about you? Can you see where he went?"

"He's evaded my sensors as well."

"But that's impossible," Stephanie repeated. "You can't just make a jaunt like that unless you. . ."

Stephanie stopped her chatting in its tracks, a suspicion beginning to form in her head.

"Robin, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Noah asked.

"Yes, C.C., but who wants to see 'Snow White and The Seven Samurai'?"

"Yes, but, _WHAT?!_?" Noah spat out, simply incapable of hopping on Stephanie's train of thought.

"Ease your neurons, answer man. I know what you're talkin' about. Grey Poupon Pants has ferreted his way off into The Speed Force. And, since we know where he's run off too, that, of course, leads to just one question."

"Which is?" Noah asked, quite pleased that his young associate was truly on his wavelength.

"HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO FOLLOW HIM THERE!!"

* * *

Kara and Lloyd strolled through the streets of Bath in companionable silence, momentarily satisfied to be caught up in the quiet swirling around them. A small gaggle of youths were merrily rushing down the alleyway from the opposite direction, each of them caught up in the merriment that can only come from being away from lessons and teachers and responsibilities. The two of them had to weave their way around them, easily avoiding any possible collision. 

A hint of laughter drew Lloyd's eyes to Kara's face. There was a peaceful twinkle in her crystalline, blue eyes that mixed with flushed cheeks and an unguarded smile that forced him to hold his stare. Kara, in return, looked up to see the warm look in Lloyd's eyes and couldn't help her blush grow a little bit deeper. It could have been construed as an awkward silence but the both of them seemed comfortable with taking a moment to recover themselves.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friend," Kara said softly. "I acted like an idiot."

"That's all right," Lloyd replied with equal gentility. "I feel just as bad for not making everything clear."

"No. No, that's okay." It dawned upon the both of them that they were trying to out-apologize each other but Kara felt the need to keep going. "It had been a long day. You had your back broken, for crying out loud."

"Yeah, I did. Still, I had quite the charming lady at my bedside, even if she did manage to liquefy everything around me."

Kara gave off another pretty blush that Lloyd couldn't help but smile at. Seeking to compose herself, the young woman turned away and immersed herself into the air of the town. "I really like it here. It's so quiet and peaceful. It's just so. . . _different_ from Gotham."

"You tellin' me the big city's startin' to lose its luster?"

"It's not really that," Kara replied as she twisted her neck to and fro. "I usually like the noise. There's just this small part of me that can't stand it, like there's this little part of me that starts getting fussy when it's not allowed to just sit down and think for a bit." She paused, quirking the left side of her lip as she reviewed her words. "Okay, that sounded phenomenally weird, didn't it?"

Lloyd thought about it for a moment. "I think I can see what you mean."

Kara wasn't quite certain what to think of Lloyd's response. An answer like that certainly didn't seem like it needed a lot of pondering. However, she was determined to enjoy herself if only for the moment so she chose to just let it slide. "So you mean to tell me that this is the place that we're supposed to find what we're looking for? This nice little tourist trap?"

Lloyd took another sharp right into another alleyway, turning around to look at Kara as he came out of the turn. "You'd be surprised with what you can find in me homeland, pet."

They continued weaving their way through the narrow, cobblestone alleyways until they came upon an aged, red-brick building whose structure had become brown and worn with the constant rain and the passing of time. A raucous recording of an Irish jig was blasting out of the establishment despite the fact that it was still relatively early in the evening and the volume would doubtlessly irritate the inhabitants of the surrounding buildings. Lloyd momentarily chuckled as a coarse, West London bark broke out over the already riotous din ordering one of the other patrons to shut the hole in their face.

"Kara Zor-el, I welcome you to The Rusty Sambo."

Kara didn't seem the least bit impressed. "Looks like just another bar to me."

She turned to Lloyd to see if she could get a better explanation only to discover that his eyes were now a smoky gray. Although she knew it was his standard countenance when he was working with magic, she couldn't help but be taken aback if only for a moment. However, she didn't wrench away as he placed his left hand around her eyes and forehead and felt a spark of energy course through her pupils. She discovered that she had shut her eyes as the energy streamed around her skull, although she couldn't say for certain whether that was because of the magic or the feeling of Lloyd's fingers caressing her temples.

"What's it look like to you now?" Lloyd asked with a bit of huskiness in his voice.

Kara opened her eyes and found she had to take another step backward. The Rusty Sambo, which her x-ray vision had formerly deduced to be just a standard, run-of-the-mill drinking establishment, was now revealed to be a lively pub populated by creatures of all shapes, sizes, colors, and places of origin. She couldn't even begin to identify them all. There was what appeared to be a fairy speaking with a puce-colored demon with spiked horns in the southwest corner of the bar while, at the main counter, a weedy-looking human appeared to be making a fairly seedy offer to a green female with an impressive set of jaws.

There's no need to go into the details of said offer, suffice it to say that it was yet another occasion when Kara truly wished she had better control over her super-sensitive hearing.

Lloyd made his way into the tavern without a word. Swinging the front door open with an easy motion, the rusty hinges gave off a bit of a whine as he took the first step in. Holding the door in place, he politely allowed Kara to come in before him just as Scandal had taught him to do when he was in the presence of a lady.

Their entrance went unheeded by everyone save the fellow tending the bar. He was a squat, portly fellow with round blue eyes and spiky, blonde hair. It was rather obvious, given his bulky frame, that he was once quite muscular but the passing of several decades gave a chance for fat to sink in and mix with the sturdy sinew. The upturned lines around the jaw and lips clearly indicated that the thick, squat face was more used to smiling than frowning but the current look on the fellow's face was a clear indication that he was quite comfortable with either.

"'M dealin' with a crowded 'ouse, guv," the man told Lloyd as he set down the glass tankard he had been polishing. "Don't suppose we could save this fer later?"

Lloyd strode up the bar and calmly slumped his arms across the countertop. "'Fraid not, mate. This matter's most pressin'."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

I've got a question. Why is this chapter so long? Hardly anything happened in it! I've got another question! Why am I badmouthing my own writing? Shouldn't I be hyping it up? Ah jeez, that was another question!

On a more serious note, I couldn't help but notice that I've gotten a lot more readers since the good people at Fanfiction Worth Reading deemed The Misfits to be, well, fanfiction worth reading. Because of this, I'd like to extend my thanks to the good people there and I extend the invitation to anybody else who'd like to post my story on this site or somewhere else. I'm not about to deny that I'm an unrepentant whore for attention. I accept that part of me. Speaking of which, feel free to tell me what you're thinking and how I can improve this story. I love to hear from you guys and gals!

Issue #46 Preview

Our favorite rabid little Robin wants a piece of Hunter Zolomon's ass but she needs to find The Speed Force to get it. Of course, who the hell knows how to get there? I'll give you a hint: he's moody, he dresses in a lot of blue and black, and he's macked on two gorgeous, mildly disturbed women in the past two chapters. And what is the mystery behind the proprietor of The Rusty Sambo? Find out about this and more in the next installment of The Misfits: Teachers and Students. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	46. Teachers and Students

Issue #46

Teachers and Students

Despite her many suspicions and guesses centered upon the person that she and Lloyd would eventually meet in their search through the tiny tourist trap, Kara never would have expected that the man in front of them would be the answer to those many lingering questions.

The man was nearly three-hundred and fifty pounds of fat, mass, and muscle but he couldn't have been an inch over five feet tall. The seemingly impossible physique was further put on display by a brown, moleskin vest and a complete lack of undershirt that revealed a phenomenally unpleasant amount of hairy, girthy torso. He wore a pair of blue jeans despite the fact that it did not seem possible that such a garment could possibly contain the tree trunks cleverly masquerading as the man's legs. Add all this with a jagged, wicked scar that ran down the right side of the man's face and a bizarre tuft of spiky, blonde hair that looked more like a helmet than actual hair and you had a man that Kara could not quite work up the nerve to speak to until he had stepped in front of her and extended a bulky hand.

"'Ello, poppet," the man said with a thick British brogue that put Lloyd's own lazy drawl to shame. "The name's Nigel Thornton."

Kara managed to work up the courage to respond to the gesture once she was able to determine that the man was not going to try and eat her. "Um, you. . . don't look like. . . a Nigel."

"Well, ya don't look like a Kara but you don't 'ear me whingin'," Nigel replied rather flatly. Kara was obviously surprised that the man had known her name but he was already on the move before she could form the question. "Come now, Zor-el. No room for shock and bewonderment. Take a seat then. You too, guv."

Kara's momentary distraction, caused by her wondering whether or not bewonderment was, in fact, a word, allowed Nigel to essentially shovel her towards one of the booths in the back corner of the bar without a hint of resistance. She noticed Lloyd ambling behind them just a couple steps behind, a languid smile on his face for reasons she couldn't quite figure out. She ultimately regained her bearings just in time to seat herself into the left side of the booth before the portly fellow felt compelled to throw her in. Nigel quickly took the right booth, the wooden supports whining audibly as he plopped himself down right in the middle.

"So how do you know Lloyd?" Kara asked as Lloyd calmly slipped down next to her.

"I used to work for Mister Mao a long while back." Nigel scratched the right side of his head with his stubby fingers. "Known the guv for going on 'bout seven years now. In fact, you could say that I was the firs' bloke who showed 'im how to scrap."

Kara showed her interest in her widened eyes as Lloyd gave off an exasperated grumble.

"Ya should 'ave seen the guv when I first met 'im, poppet," Nigel went on. "Nothin' but skin and bone, he was. An 'ole lot's changed since then but, just between you, me, an' tha wall, the boy could still do with puttin' some pounds on 'im."

Nigel turned his attention to Lloyd, who was busy wondering if he was "tha wall" that his former teacher had recently referred to. "Wot you tip the scale at these days, guv? 'Bout seven stone?"

The narrow glare that Lloyd gave to Nigel would have scared nearly any metahuman criminal out of their soiled drawers. "I weigh 80 kilograms, you sodding schoolmarm. And you're the last bloody West London sot that needs to be goin' on about proper dieting."

Nigel responded with a round of boisterous laughter that caused ripples of fat to cascade down his round face. His merriment was bolstered by a quieter round of chuckles from Kara but even that pleasing sound wasn't enough to convince Lloyd to join in.

"We're here about The Mind's Eye, old man," Lloyd said over the mirth of the others at the table.

To his credit, it didn't take long at all for the grizzled war veteran to return his attention to the task at hand. His eyes narrowed to slits and his cheery smile twisted into an even grimace. "Come on now, guv. Ya know who's behind all this. Why bother comin' to me about it?"

Even though he was the one who caused it, Lloyd was perturbed by how quickly his former teacher's mood turned south. However, he wouldn't allow that to stop him. "Because I need somebody who he might be willing to talk to. I need you to help me put a stop to this before it gets out of control."

Nigel slowly shook his head back and forth, a weary sigh emerging from his lips. "Ya still actin' as if 'e's innocent in all this, guv." Lloyd was already ready with a retort but the older man spoke right through it. "He doesn't need handlin', mate. He needs to be put down."

"Put down?!" Lloyd interrupted. "What is he, a soddin' rabid pup?!"

"No, but he'll kill you like one."

"He's my friend!" Lloyd fired back with an angry shout.

Nigel was far calmer. "Lloyd, a bloke like him only has two places for people in this world: he either needs him or he doesn't. Now I may not have my ear to the ground as much as I used to but everything I've heard says that 'e's runnin' out of tha former in a hurry an' that's when the bodies of the latters start washin' up in The Thames. Unless you figure out where you stand then he's gonna keep usin' ya to get what he wants and then he'll get rid of ya just 'cause you aren't ready to do the same to 'im."

Kara kept her eyes on Lloyd as her friend slumped into the booth they were sharing. She had never heard Lloyd lose control of himself to the degree that she had just witnessed, not even during that night when they were on the hunt for Zsasz, and it frightened her. A strong part of her wanted to do what she could to comfort him but another part kept reminding her that she could embarrass him, embarrass herself.

"I can't believe that, Nigel," Lloyd's voice was absolutely hollow. "You know I can't."

"Yeah, Lloyd. I know." Nigel sat back as the three occupants of the booth dipped into a swift, pronounced silence. "All right, it's bleedin' official. We all deserve a pint. Ya drink Guinness, poppet?"

"Oh," Kara piped up. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll have some."

Kara and Lloyd remained quiet as mice while Nigel made his way behind the counter to fetch two bottles of beer and a decanter of whiskey. He moved back to the booth with a hasty gait that belied his bulky frame and slid the two bottles across the table before twisting open his own carafe and sitting back down. Lloyd immediately went to nursing his newfound beverage while Kara momentarily pondered over the moral ramifications of a minor consuming an alcoholic beverage. Ultimately, she decided that she needed the relief, realized that she'd be quite the hypocrite if she started thinking that something like this would tip the karmic scales, and took a sip.

"So you at least have an idea on where the wanker could be?" Nigel asked before gunning down another double shot of the amber liquid.

"I've got a bloody good idea where to start lookin'," Lloyd replied.

"I figured as much. There's no way he wouldn't think you would go there, ya know? You and ya little sheila could be runnin' right into a trap."

"Well, if we're gonna run into a trap then we might as well spring it on familiar ground. Besides, that place has been left covered for far too long."

Nigel raised a bemused eyebrow as he hefted his bottle halfway between the table and his lips. "Ya sayin' _we_ like I've already consented to go with ya. Ya know I've got a packed 'ouse that isn't lookin' to be settlin' down 'til the wee hours."

"An' you're actin' as if Rosie can't 'andle things like she does every bloody night whether you're 'ere or not," Lloyd fired back with an upraised eyebrow of his own. "Don't tell me you're not up for a spot of violence, old man."

The decanter of whiskey lost another bit of its precious contents as Nigel raised it to his lips once again. He set down the glass with a thunk onto the table. "Always did know how to charm me, guv. Have to tell ya I got one condition though."

"Which is?"

"We've got a couple of 'ours 'til I'll be ready to scarper so I want you to go see ya mum."

Lloyd slumped back down to his beer bottle again. "Nigel. Please. . ."

"Also want no complainin' 'ere. This isn't an average Sunday jaunt we're goin' on and I like to have all the karma I can get me hands on."

"Come on, old man. I've already got to travel back to D.C. just so we can get to where we're goin' without having every law enforcement agency in two countries on our arses."

"Yeah, an' that's a trip you can 'andle in wot? Five minutes?"

The Black Dog gave off a weary sigh worthy of any petulant child. "All right, old man. I'm going."

He took another sip from his beer before standing up from his seat.

Kara began to scoot out as well, her half-empty bottle quickly forgotten. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Lloyd's frown came perilously close to turning into a smile. "Yeah, but this is somethin' that'd be a hell of a lot easier to do if I'm on me lonesome."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Don't worry though. Ya can rest your laurels here and chew the fat with the ol' man. If you want somethin' to eat then you're probably best off by stayin' away from the British items on the menu."

"What happened to supporting your country?" Kara asked cheerily.

"National unity doesn't extend to the cuisine. Oh, and don't drink anything green."

"Thank you for your recommendations."

Now Lloyd was smiling. "I know I was pretty testy back at the station but I'm happy you followed me 'ere. Ya didn't have to do it."

"I wanted to."

Nigel watched the goings on as Kara and Lloyd continued on their unnecessarily long goodbye. As he did so, he couldn't help but remember all the other times the long-limbed moppet would come to The Brain Sambo and stumble over his words whenever he spoke with some bonny lass that caught his eye. Yeah, the guv still had some lessons to learn, judging from all the shyness that was going on before him, but he still couldn't help but feel a bit of pride.

* * *

_Gotham_

"Still feeling okay?"

"No! I am not okay! Do I look like I'm okay because I feel that I am presently a great distance away from okay! YOOOOOOWWWW!! Fuck!"

Doctor Leslie Thompkins shook her head but continued to keep the bulk of her attention focused upon the task at hand. "I don't remember your former associates being this. . . vocal when I was patching them up, Bruce."

Mister Wayne, who happened to be calmly sitting across from the operating table, maintained his poker face despite the temptation to break it. "You've been telling me for years to meet new people, Leslie. Are you saying that you're not impressed with my choices?"

Cecilia gave off a frustrated growl. "I can't believe the two of you are bantering. Stop bantering! I've got a gaping hole in my shoulder and I don't the need to watch the the two of you having an International Coffee moment."

"I would have thought that was a little before your time, young lady."

"I watch a lot of Nick at Nite! Sue me!" the archer bit back.

"Miss King-Jones, I'll take a guess and say that this is the first time that you've been shot."

"Yes, Doc, it is," Cissie replied with a grunt. "Unlike my supervisor, I try to avoid situations where I might acquire unnecessary scarring."

"Are you saying that I'm a glutton for punishment?" Bruce asked with a smirk.

"I didn't say that," the archer replied rather calmly given the circumstances. "I just said that you've allowed your body to be mutilated to the point where no woman with an ounce of sanity would possibly want to be with you. OWWWWWWW!"

Bruce gave off a wince. "And karma strikes again."

The sound of a bullet landing upon a silver tray echoed through the room.

"Steph was right!" Cecilia raged. "You get off on inflicting pain, don't you?"

The aged doctor placed the tray that held the bullet onto another table before starting to remove her sanitary gloves. "Allow me to tell you a story that ought to cheer you up, Cecilia. I remember a young man who once came into my office hobbling like mad and bawling like a banshee. Every time I asked him what happened he just continued to say how much agony he was in and how he wouldn't be able to make it to school tomorrow and that he may very well need a wheelchair. It took well over ten minutes just to calm him down before I could even begin to find out what's wrong and I don't believe I have since run into someone who had raised such a fuss."

Leslie turned her attention towards Bruce.

"Just what was my diagnosis for that case? I can't seem to remember."

The look on Bruce's face was considerably sourer than it had been just a few moments before.

"It was a sprained knee and I would appreciate it if you occasionally tried to maintain doctor-patient confidentiality."

Leslie opened up a cabinet and removed a sizeable portion of gauge and bandages. "And yet you insist on barging into my quarters to observe other people's operations."

Cissie was already giggling. "Thanks for that, doc. It does my heart good to know that my boss does, in fact, have the capacity to whine."

"Just consider it my way of helping you towards your first step towards rehabilitation," Leslie replied while a chime originated from both Bruce's and Cissie's communicators. "Now hold still while I dress this."

Seeing as how he was unencumbered, Bruce removed the communicator from his belt and answered the call. "Robin. Have you gotten back to Gotham?"

"Indeedily doodily, B-man. C.C. told me you and Cissers went to Leslie's. Are you still there?"

"Indeed we are. Feel free to join us if you wish."

"Well, I can't guarantee if I'll be able to get there for a while," Stephanie exclaimed as Bruce moved towards the door separating the operating room from the general quarters. "My little scrap with Zoom took a lot out of me and I don't think I'll be able to. . ."

Gotham's greatest detective opened the door in order to catch Stephanie hiding behind one of the waiting tables. To, or perhaps against her credit, the diminutive Green Lantern did not look the least bit sheepish about her deception.

"That trick is going to work someday," Stephanie said without a hint of shame as she flounced past Bruce and entered the operating room. "Mark my words."

"Hola, hermana," greeted Cissie.

"Hey, sharpshooter! Now how's about telling me how you acquired that lovely perforation so I can remember who's ass I have to kick after I get done with Zoomie Zoom Zoom."

"No need, Tweety," Cissie replied as Leslie finished wrapping her wound in gauze. "Mr. Dent is already resting fitfully in the Blackgate medical wing. You can thank the studly brooding guy in the corner for that one."

"I considered it more of a joint effort," Bruce retorted with his customary half-smirk. "Speaking of which, I'm told your efforts against Zoom were decidedly less successful than you anticipated."

"That's only because the little turd pulled a rabbit out of his stupid yellow tights," Stephanie growled as she hefted herself onto a nearby side table.

"You also managed to miss your assigned shift," Leslie added as she went about cleaning Cecilia's wound. "Clarissa was looking for someone to help her tidy up the paperwork."

"I've got a legitimate excuse," Stephanie replied while looking genuinely apologetic. "I was kinda chasing a wanted criminal around the world and he could run really fast."

"It's all right, Stephanie," Leslie calmly replied. "There hasn't been a Robin yet that has been well-regarded for their punctuality."

"And I may be just as much to blame as you are for Zoom's escape," Bruce admitted. "There aren't any documented cases of Hunter Zolomon being able to hyperaccelerate his molecular movement, seeing as how he didn't receive his powers from being subjected to The Speed Force, but that doesn't mean he wasn't capable of doing so."

"Hyperaccelerate his molecular movement?" Cissie asked.

"The vibratey thing," Stephanie clarified.

"He did the vibratey thing?"

"Also, neither J'onn or myself have been able to gather a great deal of salient information in regards to the whereabouts of Zolomon or Wally West after the battle in Metropolis," Bruce explained while wisely shoving aside what could have been a laughably inappropriate topic of conversation. "We had presumed that The Flash had taken Zoom to The Speed Force but Jay Garrick's sudden inability to access that alternate dimension left us incapable of exploring that hypothesis. We even floated the possibility that Wally's outburst had eliminated the pocket altogether."

"Well, that's obviously not the case, B," Stephanie said as she slid off her impromptu seat. "There has to be some kind of way for us to get over there and chase him down. Maybe Lloyd can get a hold of an energy signature and work his way from there!"

"Every bit of data I've managed to gather in reference to tells me that The Speed Force can only be accessed through a massive output of concentrated kinetic energy. A feat like that is out of Lloyd's capabilities."

Cissie grumbled as she watched Doctor Thompkins wrap a bandage around her wound. "Well, boss. Thanks for a wonderful recap on all that's stopping us from cracking this case."

"Thankfully," Bruce interrupted, "another person, who just happens to be in this room, may be capable of pulling it off with the aid of the proper equipment."

"I officially need to learn how to stop talking," the wounded archer proclaimed as she slumped down onto the medical bench.

"And I'm guessing that the person you're referring to is about five-foot-six, wears an exceedingly stylish and functional costume, and can serve as her own night light?" Stephanie asked.

"You guessed correctly," Bruce replied.

"I'm going too," Cissie announced as she stood up from her seat now adorned with Leslie's completed bandaging.

"This is a two-person mission, Arrowette," Bruce said in his strictest "Batman voice". "You are officially on the shelf as of ninety minutes ago. Stephanie's going to take you back to Wayne Manor and you're going to get some much deserved rest."

"I don't want any rest," the archer replied angrily. "I want to pay this asshole back for killing my friend."

"And I'm not going to get you killed because I allowed you to go after him when you're not at 100 percent." Bruce's tone was stern but still offered a bit of leeway for sympathy. "You've already done your share today but now I need you to trust us to take care of things, Cecilia.

Cecilia gave off a momentary pout but ultimately acquiesced to reason. She turned to Stephanie, who was more than willing to help her in the task of putting on a fresh shirt. "I want a souvenir from The Speed Force gift shop," she sternly declared as she tenderly slid her right arm through the sweater she had been wearing before all the nonsense with Two-Face. "I'm thinking something along the lines of a Max Mercury plush doll."

"Just so long as it's in my price range," Stephanie said with a smile before turning to her other boss. "How about it, Doc? Is the sharpshooter safe for transport?"

"Go right ahead, Robin," Leslie approved. "I just need a moment or two with your boss."

Bruce remained still while Cissie gave a brief thank you before being hustled out by her energetic compatriot. He did his best to tune out the chatter between the two young women, choosing to place his emotional stores in mirroring the placid look that his closest equivalent of a mother figure had presented him with. The sound of the door closing was decidedly loud and the echo resonated through the several seconds of silence that elapsed between the girls' exit and this inevitability.

"Thank you for patching up Cecilia," he began.

"Thank you for giving her an open ear," the old woman countered. "It's safe to say that was the softest kick in the butt I've ever seen you give to someone."

"Several of my associates have put it upon me to improve my bedside manner," Bruce explained. "After all, I find that turning away potentially valuable associates simply because I've failed to keep an open ear is just profoundly counterproductive."

Leslie gave Bruce an approving nod. "That's a healthy attitude to take. However, there are some exceptions to the rule."

"I have nothing to do with giving you a second chance, Leslie. Stephanie's the one you need to thank for being here and she'll be the one you'll have to answer to."

Leslie bobbed her head once again, albeit with a great deal more reservation than before.

"That being said," Bruce continued, "it's good to have you back in Gotham."

Leslie rewarded her soft-spoken charge with the slight, endearing smile that had been able to settle and warm the heart of her favorite patient even before that horrible night at Crime Alley over three decades ago. "This doesn't sound like your run-of-the-mill case file, young man. Remember to be careful."

"I always am."

Leslie let the comment lie as Bruce made his usual hasty exit. The top drawer of her eldest file cabinet held a 10-page medical report that would have proven Bruce's claim to be laughably unsound. Still, she didn't want to do anything to ruin his good mood.

* * *

Kara tried to draw out her latest once over of the goings on of The Rusty Sambo for as long as possible, almost desperate to find something with which she could occupy her time. The disturbing couple that had offended her eardrums with bizarre sexual propositions was no longer at the counter and were now no doubt engaged in whatever wince-worthy activities that they had agreed to perform to one another. The other patrons, outer worldly or otherwise, seemed to be content with amicable chatter and the occasional half-hearted threat of violence. Nigel remained behind the bar, his stocky body moving back and forth in order to better answer the needs of the customers that had clustered around the counter.

It suddenly occurred to her that this used to be the direct opposite of what she imagined her life as a superhero to be. The dreams that floated in her unconscious mind during her days in Themyscira never had her delving into strange, seedy locations, asking questions that you didn't feel entirely comfortable with asking. They had no mystery to be solved, no gray amidst the black and white, and no unknown threat capable of doing heaven knows what waiting for her in the shadows. The bad guy would commit a crime, she'd follow the bad guy, she'd beat the bad guy up, and then she'd smile and get her picture taken.

It was a dream that was as simple as everything else in her life had been during her short time at The Home of the Amazons. She had once found that simplicity to be profoundly comforting but now, as she took time out from her purposeless perusals to take stock of herself, she found that kind of simple to be just. . . itchy. It wasn't as if she couldn't have done with a bit more minimalism in some parts of her life but she couldn't help but wonder how comfortable she would feel if she had to go back to living far from the people she wanted to protect. How would she feel if she wasn't there to save that lady from being raped last night in some back alley off Blanchard Avenue? Was that singular good deed, even when magnified many times over, enough to compensate for the good she could have done elsewhere?

She found it rather discouraging to discover that she didn't have a real answer to that conundrum. Then again, that's what alcohol was for. Even for a 17-year-old.

Nigel broke into Kara's physical and psychological imbibing by taking the same seat he had taken before. The dinner crowd had mostly made its exit and the proprietor of The Rusty Sambo was quite happy to embrace the brief lull in activity that inevitably occurred before the social drinkers made their presence felt. The little poppet kept one eye on him as he settled in, her attention mostly focused upon her third bottle of beer. It took a couple moments of silence for him to realize that it was a genuine gesture, her way of forcing him into make the first move.

_Smart girl_.

"Y'know. The guv never had much of an eye for blondes before. Said they weren't worth tha bother. Kept his eyes glued on carrot tops, he did."

His first return salvo fired, Nigel paused to take a better look at the reaction. Kara, showing that she had learned a great deal about Terran conversational customs since she first arrived on Earth, was wise enough to take another sip of lager before responding.

"Then how do you explain Scandal Savage?" she asked as she placed her bottle back down on the table.

Nigel's round, blue eyes widened a fraction before he let loose with a boisterous burst of laughter. Kara returned the barman's exhibition with a small smile, pleased that she had passed her first test.

"Ah, that was just him bein' 'orny," the old man confessed. "No offense to Savage but I like to believe that the guv puts a bit more investment in who he happens to be shackin' up with now."

"We're not. . . shackin' up." Kara's response was said a little too quickly for it to be considered either believable or an unwanted proposition. She couldn't help but turn her eyes away from Nigel's dubious stare as she took another glance at the door.

"No need to worry, poppet," Nigel replied, his voice a great deal softer than before. "The guv'll be back when he's back. 'E can take of himself."

Kara had more than enough reason to disagree but she kept it quiet. "Why do you call him, guv?"

"'S not a story worth tellin'."

Kara nodded, more than willing to let that one go. "Then what _are_ some stories worth telling? You said you've known him for what? Seven years? What was he like back then?"

"Ah, the guv was a sweetheart."

Kara wasn't quite ready for that one. "A sweetheart?" she parroted with quite a bit of skepticism.

"Wot's wrong with that?"

"I once watched Lloyd rip out the spine of a Luxor demon, toss it to Cissie, and tell her to hold onto it because he needed a new backscratcher."

Nigel was momentarily overtaken by laughter once again. "Well, it took a lot of time for 'im to learn how to puff out 'is feathers. But when he was younger he was the quietest little bugger I ever came across. Couldn't have talked his way out of marchin' to his death if somebody really got on 'im. Sad as it was, it did help the guv take to my trainin' like a duck to water."

"He's grown up a lot since then."

"Yeah," Nigel admitted with quite a hit of pride. "Yeah, he has."

"And what about the guy we're going after?" Kara asked softly. "How did he take to your lessons?"

The kindly, rough-hewn fellow sat back on his bench and blew out a great deal of air. "Depends on 'ow ya frame the question, poppet. Just how much did the guv tell ya 'bout Vincent?"

_Vincent_, Kara thought. The name sounded phenomenally unremarkable. _Then again, so is Lloyd. . . and Bruce. . . and Stephanie._

"He didn't even tell me his name," Kara replied. She suddenly felt the need to bite her bottom lip as if she had done something wrong. "I didn't really want to push him into talking about it until he was ready."

The swarthy Brit gave Kara another appraising glance as he mulled her confession over. "Thas' probably the right way to go about it. 'E was never that comfortable talkin' bout 'im."

"But who is this Vincent?"

"First off, the bloke barely goes by his own name anymore," Nigel explained. "These days 'e's known more as Th' Silver Coyote." The old man noticed the evident surprise on the Kryptonian's face. "Yeah. Yet another one of Mao's brilliant nicknames. For all intents and purposes, the bloke is the guv's older brother. Not by family mind but somebody like Lloyd wasn't that picky back then."

"You really need to stop answering my questions with answers that make me want to ask more questions," Kara sourly pointed out.

Nigel gave Kara a kindly smile.

"Does Vincent have powers to?"

Nigel nodded.

"Are they like Lloyd's?

"Nearly the same. The only difference is 'ow they both choose to use 'em."

"Well, were they born with them or something?" Kara pressed forward. "If their powers are so similar but there's no familial link then how. . ."

"We didn't all get our powers from the genetic lottery, Zor-el," Nigel interrupted. "Some of them get it by some happy accident like getting bit by some radioactive wallaby or whatsits. Quite a few people had to figure out how to make their own like those pale-faced wankers on Oa."

Kara slowly scooted forward, willing to overcome the slight jab at her so-called good fortune in order to get an answer to her question. "That's not an answer to my question."

The bartender ran a hand through his coarse locks and cast his eyes down to the table. "Got neither the right nor the knowledge to give ya all the facts, poppet. Suffice it to say that some people have greatness thrust upon them whether 'ey like it or not. May I?"

Kara gave her consent as Nigel's right hand stretched across the table and took a hold of the bottle of beer. The old man took a hefty sip before continuing forward.

"When Mao and I met 'em the only people they had reason to trust was each other. Took a long bloody time 'fore the guv could figure out how to break free from it. The difference was that Vincent never did the same. Can't really tell ya if it was 'cause he couldn't or he wouldn't but 's far too late to think about that now."

"Is he that," Kara needed a moment to search for the right word, "unredeemable?"

"All that and then some, luv. The only people Vincent ever listened to was Mao and the guv an' the only reason he listened to Lloyd was so 'e could wrap 'im around his finger."

"And all the trouble he's caused was mostly because of the stuff he stole from Mao," Kara concluded. "But if he's that bad then why would Lloyd still want to listen to him?"

It was a perfectly legitimate question but Kara was fairly certain that she already knew the answer. It could have been found in every time he endured Stephanie's ramblings long after everyone else had given up and in all those awkward moments where somebody would have to dig into Batman's rigidity and into her stubbornness. It was the same reason why Lloyd would never be the one to start up an affectionate chat with a stranger and why it took Lloyd nearly six months before he treated Jim Gordon with the slightest whit of respect.

"Miss Zor-el, the guv isn't really sure how to 'andle another person turnin' against 'im."

"No,_the guv_ most certainly is not."

Kara jumped at Lloyd's sudden arrival, the cross look in his eyes causing her to feel a bizarre hint of shame at her secrecy.

"COR BLIMEY, GUV!"

Obviously, Nigel's response was a great deal less composed. Thankfully, he had the rest of Kara's beer to calm him down. "Bloody buggerin' hell, Black Dog. 'Ow many times I tell ya not to shift into my bar? Scares the need to drink out of me patrons, it does."

"Seems to me that you're the only one pitchin' a fit, old man," Lloyd correctly identified as he glanced at the undisturbed patrons of The Rusty Sambo. "Cabrini's gotten us clearance to investigate The Monster Farm. You almost ready to go?"

"Just need a half-hour or so to clear things and get meself centered," Nigel replied. "An' I'm prolly right in guessin' that you're gonna need some time to whip up whatever mojo we may need."

The Black Dog nodded, his stern countenance clearly indicating that he was all business. "That'll suit us fine. Just be sure to be ready when we're ready."

"No problem, guv," Nigel replied as he rose up from his side of the booth. "Better get back to tendin' the counter. Need another beer?"

Kara and Lloyd both shook their heads as the latter took the old man's place in the opposite bench. A thousand questions were fluttering in Kara's thoughts as Lloyd settled in. She couldn't help but think that Lloyd was mad at her but she wasn't certain where she could even start to ask why for fear of making the situation even more awkward. Because of this, she chose to err on the side of caution, stick to the task at hand. . .

"What's on ya mind, Kara?"

And apparently leave Lloyd to push the situation forward once again. Despite the aching temptation, she stood rooted on the road she chose to go down.

"What's The Monster Farm?"

Lloyd was now looking dead at her, a hint of unnatural gray coursing through the lenses of his eyes.

"For all intents and purposes, 's where I was born."

* * *

The unmistakable roar of Nightwing's customized VR-1000 rudely interrupted the otherwise tranquil environment that The Batcave had been in the last several hours. In fact, the only sounds that had surfaced from the darkness below Wayne Manor had been the soft ruffling of bat wings, the rapid clicks and clacks of fingers across a keyboard, and a passable recording of _Pagliacci._Noah tried his best to be annoyed at the younger man's grandiloquent entrance but the memory of the four hours Dick had unselfishly spent helping him with a potentially frightening errand was still rather fresh in his mind. Because of this, the best he could work up was a mildly perturbed, half-hearted glare as Bruce's first junior partner strolled towards him with quite the broad grin.

"You've returned far earlier than I had anticipated," Noah said in greeting. "Are the thrills generated in harassing purse snatchers not quite up to par this evening?"

"What can I say?" Nightwing asked with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's a slow night and it's nothing the boys in blue can't handle."

"Well, I admit that it has been a rather long night already," Noah confessed as he took a passing glance at his watch. "Something tells me that I will be asking Cecilia to take my place when she returns so I can call it a night. Just once I would like to know the sensation of getting to sleep before the sun rises over my windowsill."

"Nothing wrong with that," Dick reasoned. "What about the friendly butler?"

"I haven't seen him since word came back that Cecilia was all right. Perhaps he's decided to call it an early night as well."

Dick came to a stop at the monitor in order to take a closer look at Noah's surveillance footage of his compatriots. "What about those lads and lasses?" he asked with a finger pointed towards the screen. "Any undue schedule alterations?"

"No, everything appears to be on the straight and narrow. Kara and Lloyd have met up with their contact and they're nearly ready to start their operation. Bruce just ordered Stephanie to bring Arrowette back to the manor before they go off to find a way to get to The Speed Force."

Nightwing nodded slowly, paying particular attention to the image of Batman standing patiently upon the roof of G.C.P.D. headquarters. "So that's all the news that's fit to print?"

"Unless there's something going on that I don't know about," Noah said with a mildly exasperated grin. He turned to say something else but was cut short when Nightwing slammed his escrima stick against the side of his head. The Calculator's limp body slammed against the monitor before sliding down the console and coming to a stop on the cold, rock floor.

There was an almost savage glint in the acrobat's eyes as he dragged Noah's unconscious body up into a fireman's carry and began to carry him out of The Batcave. There was a slight frenzy of ruffling as leathery wings beat above the scene of the crime but, apart from that, the only other noticeable sights and sounds were the dull glow of the active computer monitor and the havoc of Canio's grisly work.

"You should really count your blessings, traitor," Nightwing cautioned his unhearing audience as he scaled the steps leading into Wayne Manor proper with Noah slumped across his shoulders. "If I had my way, you'd already be dead."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, I just read the Superman Prime/Sinestro Corps one-shot and I've got some questions to ask. Did we really need another Superboy-man Prime vs. DC fight? Did poor Risk need to get his _other_ arm ripped off? Do you mean to tell me that the Martian Manhunter could do absolutely no damage but _Krypto the F'n Superdog_ could? And did we really need Batman there just to tell everybody that Superemo wasn't currently being powered by the sun? Couldn't Mister Terrific have just taken up that task while he and his teammates were getting their asses kicked? And what exactly is stopping Bitchymus Prime from just flying to the sun and removing the need for the armor altogether? I mean, I've loved all the action in_Sinestro Corps_ as much as the next comic book fan but all that just grated on my nerves.

Additionally, now I'm really glad I killed the little emo prick off in my series. I don't have the stomach to deal with something that whiny over a prolonged period of time and I've been a fifth-grade teacher.

As always, thanks to everybody whose readin' and reviewin'. Feel free to continue doing so in order to satiate my phenomenal ego. And don't worry, Wolvbym. I'm pretty damn certain I will get to The Sinestro Corps. I just need some time to set up for it. Speaking of which. . .

Issue #47 Preview

Okay. . . just what the hell happened to everybody's favorite Batman wannabe? Has Nightwing turned traitor or is there another piece to the puzzle and can that piece be found within either The Speed Force or the mysterious Monster Farm. Tune in next time as Kara and Lloyd explore the depths of Bath, Batman reunites with an old friend, and Stephanie discovers a unique cardiovascular exercise in the next installment of The Misfits: Lukewarm Memories. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	47. Coldhearted Memories

Issue #47

Coldhearted Memories

Nightwing cheerfully sifted through a wide variety of many wonderfully horrific possibilities as he strolled through the kitchen area of Wayne Manor. He pored through the many cabinets with a great deal of gusto with a merry whistled rendition of _Some Enchanted Evening_ passing through his lips.

He hadn't been surprised in the least to discover that his attempts to crack into the traitor's masterworks had met with abysmal failure. Kuttler's security protocols had been far too complex for him to weave his way through. Although he would have normally found this lack of success to be quite distressing, he was able to soothe his nerves by thinking about how he would be able to lay waste to everything around him as soon as he was able to take care of this last little errand. He found that to be quite therapeutic.

It was true that patience had never been his strong suit. In fact, it was only his desire to complete his ultimate designs that had kept him from caving in Kuttler's skull, from marching upstairs and choke out the butler with his own intestines or from drinking Glenlivet over the charred cinders of Wayne Manor. The indisputable fact that the people who lived within these charming halls had found constant amusement in his phenomenal failure caused his bile to boil but he still held on strong. He had a job to do and the rewards of his eventual success would far outweigh his temporary frustration.

A rumble of footsteps told him who had joined him before their arrival. The rushed movements and almost frenetic conversational tones that followed could only be accomplished by irritating teenagers. The archer chickie gives him a little wave as she sets herself down at the kitchen table, her eyes more drawn to the bandaging around her shoulder than at his presence at the table. Green Lantern Junior ignored him altogether, her intentions fully focused upon the refrigerator and the many edibles inside. She soon emerged with a turkey leg in one hand which she immediately tore into with a beastly tenacity that he found to be rather erotic.

"Rough night at the office, sweetie?" he asked as he dipped a hand into his bowl of M & M's.

Robin gave him a peculiar look, causing the acrobat to be momentarily concerned that he had blown his cover. Thankfully, her suspicion was quickly shuffled aside in favor of stuffing her face. "The night's not done yet," she answered with a slight mouthful of food. "I'm just fetchin' myself a bit of chow before I'm supposed to go and meet B at the police station. I just can't function on all-nighters unless I've got a little bit of food in my belly. Still, the possibility of getting a piece of Zolomon's ass is quite the motivational tool."

"You know, you've got a hell of a mad on for somebody that you've only met once," Cissie said with a bit of bemusement.

"I don't like losing, sharpshooter," Stephanie replied as she perched her boots and feet upon the dining table. "I don't like it when somebody makes me look like a fool and I really don't like it when that person happened to kill one of the few capes outside of the Gotham City limits that treated me like I wasn't a piece of dirt lodged underneath their shoes."

"Bart was a pretty big fan of yours," the archer admitted. "Then again, that could have been just because you're just as annoying he was. Take some of the heat off of him and all that."

Stephanie tore her attention away from her turkey leg to give her compatriot a rueful glare. "You're talking like someone who doesn't want their Jay Garrick Pez dispenser."

"I said I wanted a Max Mercury plush doll!"

"Then put a moratorium on the pot shots. I've got to put myself into the proper emotional state for tracking down a slippery psychopath."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow at Stephanie's selection of words. "Don't you ever worry about what can come across from all of this?"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow in return. "What cha mean?"

"It's just. . . Don't you ever think that the kind of stuff we do is going to come back and bite us in the ass? I mean, what happens to the ones that get away and doesn't like it that we're cracking down on 'em? Can we really afford just continuing to poke at this ant hill?"

Stephanie placed her food down onto the table with a _thump_. "That's not a very fair metaphor, Nightthing. Most ants aren't really capable and keen for the raping and pillaging."

"But what happens when the ones that get away decide they want their pound of flesh?"

"Bring 'em on," Stephanie replied just before going back to chomp on her turkey leg.

Cissie nodded in agreement. "I'm with Steffers. If we didn't want everything that comes with the job then we shouldn't have applied for the position." The archer folded her arms before placing them onto the table, her countenance clearly indicating that she was interested in where this was going. "And just what brings this line of questioning on anyway?"

Nightwing shrugged his shoulders. "Just been thinking about it a lot lately. I mean, the bottom line is that it's not just us that we have to worry about. I mean, say if they went after somebody that's close to us." He turned to Stephanie, who was also watching him with increasing interest. "Your mother, for example."

"Then I tear them apart for even thinking that they could get away with doing such a thing," Stephanie replied calmly.

The acrobat shook his head. "Believe me, it's a lot easier to say it than to actually do it. When we put our loved ones in danger than we have to be responsible for what happens when they get caught in the crossfire."

"You know, I don't ever recall a time in my life when I walked up to my mother and pointed a gun at her damn head," Stephanie growled. "I've already got enough bad things in my life that I'm responsible for to justify crucifying myself for the actions of a person I once caught with their hand in the cookie jar."

"So let's say that this . . . cookie stealer," Dick began, "decides to pay you back and succeeds. What then?"

Stephanie's eyes narrowed as she slid her feet of the table and planted them onto the kitchen floor. "Then I'll feel bad that a person that I loved is gone. Then I'm going to make myself feel better by tracking down the one who's actually responsible for my sadness. Then I'm going to force them to feel a lot more pain then I'm feeling just so I can show them that, just like the people they hurt, they no longer have any choice in the matter of whether they live or die. Then I'll give them just enough time to let that fact sink in while I busy myself with breaking as many bones as I feel like until they realize the consequences of going after others instead of coming after me."

The Green Lantern rose from the table, the half-eaten turkey leg wrapped within her short fingers. Arrowette and Nightwing stood still, the both of them drawn into the cold words of the mystically powered teenager.

"And then I kill them just to make certain that they don't do it again. Kill 'em nice and messy so the memory will stick with whatever morally deficient asshole that thinks it's a good idea to go after other people when they should be coming after me."

Nightwing nodded slowly in response. "That kind of philosophy tends to lead to a short life span, little birdie."

"Lots of people don't live as long as they should," Stephanie replied as she moved to the serving table. Placing the half-eaten hunk of meat back on the plate, she used the remnants of the foil wrap to cover up the rest of her impromptu meal before placing it back in the refrigerator. "And now I need to get movin'. Remember, no long-distance phone calls, don't worry about leaving the light on, and no touchy my turkey."

"Can do," Nightwing replied as Stephanie made her exit. He and Arrowette remained seated and silent for a moment or two afterwards, the both of them a bit shell-shocked with the last topic of conversation. "Pretty hardcore response," he pointed out.

"You started it," Arrowette fired back.

"Yeah, I suppose I did," Nightwing admitted, his eyes fixed on the bandaging around the archer's shoulder. "Want an M & M?"

"I'm good," Cecilia said as she rose up from the table. "Think I'll just grab a Diet Coke before I head down to The Batcave for monitor duty. I don't suppose there's any chance I can convince you to relieve me in about an hour or so? The doc wants me to take some pain medication before I hit the hay and she said it takes a bit to kick in."

"Fine by me," Nightwing replied with a smile. "That shouldn't be a problem at all."

* * *

Nigel Thornton's funky little C14 Citroen came to stop in front of a lush field nearly two kilometers away from Bath's northeastern border. The driver and his two passengers were quick to exit the vehicle and soon began their journey into a lush field of green grass sparsely populated by the occasional tree. 

Lloyd was in the lead, his silver saber safely nestled within a hip scabbard strapped to his favorite pair of black blue jeans. A deep blue sweater kept his long arms and torso shielded from view and his heavy footsteps, which were embellished by his Doc Martens, ensured that the grass he trod open would need a moment to recover from his unwilling assault. Kara was on his left just several steps behind, her simple sea-green t-shirt, blue jeans and uncomplicated sneakers making her as if she was simply here to enjoy the serenity of nature. Nigel, on the other hand, made no effort to hide either the battle axe strapped to the back of his moleskin vest or the bulges of sinew that the bizarre garment failed to hide from unwilling eyes.

"Sorry for drumming out an obvious point but this does not look like a place that somebody would call The Monster Farm," Kara pointed out as they made their way forward.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Lloyd said without even turning around.

"Ugh. That means there's magic involved, isn't it?" the Kryptonian concluded. "Mr. Thornton, please don't let me be the only one who can't see anything because I'm tired of being left out of stuff."

The old man chuckled as he rubbed his palms together. "No worries, poppet. It looks like the set of a bloody Sting video to me too." Nigel turned his eyes toward the young woman, his round face seemingly sharper in the waning moonlight. "Still, if you want my advice, ya should brush up on your magicks. 'S no good for somebody like you should brush up on their mojo."

"Well, that does seem like a good idea," Kara confessed. "Still, I'm not sure how much I'd really be able to learn. Magic and Kryptonian DNA have a long-standing history of being very unmixey."

Lloyd held a hand up that prompted his two companions to be silent. "If it makes you feel better," he explained as he came to a stop, "I'm not seeing anything out of the ordinary either."

The young vigilante rolled his shoulders before tensing his fingers. He closed his eyes as he began chanting in a language that neither Kara nor Nigel was able to understand. A sliver of burgundy-colored energy spilled from his fingertips as the seconds wore on, but his body remained still save for the bizarre sounds rising through his lips and throat.

Nearly a minute elapsed before the first presence of ashen ruins could be seen by the naked eye. Almost another minute went by before the whole remains of the facility were within full view but Kara felt her senses threatening to overwhelm her well before that. However, it wasn't the sight of rubble and broken glass that disgusted her but the very stench of the place. It was an ungodly sterile bouquet of death and disinfectant with faint traces of dried blood and chemicals that tempted the alien to rip off her nose just to rid herself of the stench.

"Home sweet home," Lloyd ruefully proclaimed as he made his way forward.

Kara and Nigel were close behind. "What is this place?" the former asked, an unmistakable hint of dread in her voice.

Lloyd didn't reply right away, choosing instead to take hold of a heavy slab of stone that blocked off a staircase leading down beneath the ground. Using a fraction of his physical strength, The Black Dog hefted it aside and proceeded down the steps.

"Ya ever heard of Project Cadmus?"

"Yeah!" Kara answered. "It was a government project, right? My cousin told me that they were the ones who created Connor when everybody thought Clark had been killed by Doomsday."

Lloyd fired off a derisive snort. He raised his right ring finger above his shoulder. A sparkle of light emanating from the fingertip lit the gloomy halls. "Yeah, that was one of their brighter projects. Truth be told, Cadmus was a project designed to create metahumans in case the superheroes decided that they wanted to run the planet. The Yank government may have taken the brunt of the public backlash once it was revealed to the public but tha bottom line was that quite a few organizations 'ad their mitts in it. After all, those in power usually aren't that keen on any possibility of losin' it."

Kara momentarily fixed her attention on a long, jagged piece of glass stained by blackened blood. She followed the dry trail up to what appeared to be a storage facility, judging from the tall, narrow spacing of the room. The long-dead console to the right of the entrance had been smashed beyond recognition. Her protracted perusal was enough to distract her to the point where Lloyd had moved so far ahead of her that she felt compelled to take to the stale air in order to catch up.

"And why do they call this The Monster Farm?" Kara asked as she placed her feet back on the ground.

"Doctor Immanuel Lugae was the bloke in charge of this particular operation. The man was a bloody genius, advancin' the study of genetics and robotics decades ahead of their time. Add that to an interest in the occult and a complete absence in morals and you had a project that a lot of military organizations could not help but see the value in so long as they didn't 'ave to get their hands dirty."

The two of them quickly descended down another staircase. The absence of a third set of footsteps was a clear indication that Nigel had split off from them at some point down the line. Kara was quite surprised that she hadn't noticed it earlier as a hint of ash seeped through her nostrils. Still, they continued moving down a narrow hallway which was devoid of light save from the sparkle coming from Lloyd's finger.

"The town's long history of demonic inhabitancy gave Lugae the perfect source material needed to carry out his foremost project: to discover how to successfully combine human and demonic DNA. The extensive funding that was doled out to him was more than enough for the bastard to be able to conduct his research and experimentation."

Kara felt herself shudder. Phantom sensations of toxic gas filled her lungs and shrill screaming flooding her ears.

Lloyd turned to face Kara, a stormy look in his hazel eyes. "He decided to go a different route with Vincent and me. With us he eschewed genetic recombination and chose instead to employ incantations that were designed to safely place a demonic essence within a human body."

Kara tried to say something the first time she had opened her mouth but couldn't think of anything to say, which caused her to look not unlike a gutted fish. Thankfully, she eventually managed to get herself together. "So that. . . that's what made you. . ."

Lloyd nodded in the darkness. "I'm a human merged with the soul of a greater demon."

A wave of Lloyd's right hand caused the area around him to be flooded with light. The momentary flare soon subsided into a steady glow, revealing a room that was a great deal larger than those they had passed through. The sights and smells, of course, were just as dour and dead. He continued making his forward for several moments, casting his eyes from one side of the room to the other, before noticing that he was no longer being followed. He quickly turned around to see Kara standing at the doorway, her eyes focused upon him as if she was trying to figure out what to make of him.

"Sorry if that offends you," he said rather flatly.

Kara almost instantly snapped to attention. "OH! No, it's not that. It's just. . . it's so hard to believe that something like that could be done." _Or that somebody would allow somebody to try and do it_, she finished.

Lloyd felt a thin wave of relief passing through his heart. "It shouldn't have been possible. The only reason it worked on Vincent and I was because he had the time he needed to monitor the process step-by-step. Heaven knows how many guinea pigs met a worse fate than ours."

"How. . ." Kara's voice was a quivering whisper. "How long?"

"Five years."

Kara watched Lloyd turn away from her, focusing his attention instead on what she had earlier presumed to be a storage facility. This one, however, was out in the open and unburden by walls. Fortunately, before she could focus too much of her attention upon that fact, her mind suddenly sprung upon something else.

"But Nigel told me he didn't meet the both of you until you were 12," she wondered aloud. "That would mean. . ."

Kara suddenly felt the click that could only come from a horrible fact worming its way into your mind.

Lloyd brushed his fingertips over the remains of what had been his constant home for just over five years. He remembered how, if he really paid attention, he could notice the tube seeming to get smaller as the days passed on.

"Always did wonder what it would've been like if I didn't remember it all happening. Lugae said it was necessary to keep us conscious when he did the mojo so we'd have control over our demons. Still, it wasn't Wolverine bad. No unnecessary flashbacks or garbage about Romulus an'. . ."

He jumped in surprise as Kara all but crashed into him. He slowly turned his body so he could see her face and properly feel her long arms snaking around his back. He quivered as she burrowed her tiny chin into the crook of muscle between his neck and the right side of his collar bone. The scent of her hair, such a sharp contrast to everything else around him, somehow managed to soothe him even though he felt like exploding.

_How much_, he thought. _How much would I have given to feel this damn warmth in my gut in all those years I couldn't feel a thing?_ He felt the warmth turn into a blaze when Kara slowly pulled her face away from his chest, the shine of her brilliant, blue eyes digging into him almost as deeply as the shivering of her lips.

"Oi, guv! Looks like we may got problems."

Kara and Lloyd snapped away from each other with an almost violent velocity, their combined uncertainty once again staking its claim.

Nigel continued on his bluster and gusto, absolutely oblivious to what had been about to transpire. "Ya said that Data Room was anudder two floors down, right?"

"Yeah," Lloyd answered. "Why? You found somethin'?"

"Looks like," Nigel replied. "Me gut is tellin' me that here there be monsters."

* * *

_Keystone City _

_Click!_

Robin let out an impish giggle as her attempts to jimmy open the door had finally bore fruit. She had been initially frustrated that Batman had all but ordered her to demonstrate her lock-picking prowess, particularly considering that she could have used her ring to break into the place in the blink of an eye. However, since she figured (correctly) that her boss would have gone into his usual spiel of being prepared for the unexpected if she had chosen to voice that particular fact she chose not to bring it up. Instead, she allowed herself a grin of satisfaction that came with the treat of proving her taskmaster wrong as she made her way into a place she had wanted to go to since she was five years old.

Bruce had told her that he found The Flash Museum to be overly showy, particularly when you considered the men that the monument was meant to honor. To his defense, Robin did have to confess that, even under the dim security lighting, the wide halls and towering columns did seem rather imposing. However, it only took one look at all the memorabilia, the newspaper clippings, and the photographs meant to memorialize the phenomenal exploits of some of the fastest men alive for Stephanie to overcome her grownup cynicism and turn her back to a fascinated child. She was already skimming her way through a news story about Jay Garrick breaking through the gates of Bergen-Belsen before her boss had to go and ruin it with a clearing of the throat that even she couldn't ignore.

"And we couldn't have waited to do this during normal business hours?" Stephanie asked.

"I had hoped the timing would coerce you from engaging in any of your customary unprofessionalism," The Dark Knight sourly replied as he left his partner a few steps behind on his way towards his intended destination. "I honestly should have known better."

"Not to mention that the black battle armor and the goofy bat ears would have called undue attention to yourself," Robin fired back as she got back on pace.

"Also true," Batman admitted as he keyed in the combination required to open a sliding door that allowed the both of them access to the stairwell leading to the first basement level.

"Kind of hard to believe that we haven't run into the doughnut patrol," Robin said as the sound of boot soles tapping on wooden floors resounded through the narrow corridor.

"If we were going to run into them then we would have already. Only a select few have access to this portion of the museum and those few have no idea that we're here."

"Sounds good to me," Robin said with a grin as she bounded ahead of her shadowed accomplice. "And what's up with this little gizmo you expect me to juice up?"

"It's a device that I constructed with the aid of an old colleague," Batman replied as he typed in another password that would allow them to go deeper into the complex. "As I said before, we discovered that The Speed Force could be accessed from this dimension through an intense, concentrated burst of kinetic energy. The problem, of course, was that, unless you had been exposed to The Speed Force, there was no real possible way to properly store so much transferrable energy into a single source. So, to solve that particular dilemma, we combined my finances and mechanical prowess along with his knowledge of hypervelocity and created an engine that would be capable of meeting the necessary storage capacity."

"Incredible," Stephanie announced as she slid down the final staircase to finish her journey a step ahead of her partner.

"I must admit that I did find the entire mystery to be quite fascinating." Bruce removed his heavy cowl in order to allow the security protocols to perform a retinal scan. The inspection merely took a matter of seconds and the door in front of them slid open soon after.

"I was actually talking about you having a friend who would put up with you long enough to finish what seems to be such a long-term project," Robin went on.

Bruce paused to fire an angry gaze at his partner's merry grin before allowing her to go inside. Track lighting flared to life as his former shared laboratory came back to life before his eyes. The illumination of the monitors and machinery coincided with the rebirth of long-forgotten memories of patrol stories with The White Album playing in the background. He allowed himself a small smile at the recollection, a remainder of what could have been possible.

Batman's ponderings gave Robin a moment or two to take a long look at the machine that would power their way into The Speed Force. She used the power in her ring to circle around it once, twice, then another time just because she could.

"I wish I could say that I deserved the credit." Batman replied as he allowed Stephanie to continue her perusal as he marched over to the main console. "The bottom line was that he was maybe the only one of us who was able to get along with everybody. He just had that way about him."

"Sounds like a cool guy."

"He was the best of us."

Satisfied with the quality of her inspection, Robin brought an abrupt stop to her flight plan and made her way over to Batman. "And what is my role in all of this?"

"I want you to attune your ring to fire a burst of pure kinetic energy into that connecting turbine," Batman began, pointing to a massive hunk of machinery connected to the engine with a complicated series of wiring. "The transfer mechanisms will convert that power into the fuel the engine requires to create a portal into The Speed Force."

"That still doesn't explain how we're going to be able to do anything in there," Stephanie countered. "I mean, if The Speed Force is supposed to be accessible to only a few people then I can't imagine that it's fun for all ages and bodily types."

"The added protection of your power ring will be enough to maintain your structural integrity," Batman explained. "Of course, if you have any doubts then you're free to read through the documentation of my research on the matter. However, I should warn you that it's a 200-page report that is absolutely devoid of coloring pictures."

"Oh phooey!" Robin exclaimed. "Still, I don't think that'll be necessary. You seem trustworthy, emotional and wardrobe issues aside. Still, that doesn't explain how you're gonna be safe."

Batman answered her question by dipping his left hand into one of the pockets that lined his utility belt. Opening one of the pouches, he pulled out a golden ring framed by a white lightning bolt that he then placed onto his ring finger.

"Another of your buddy's contributions to the cause?" Robin asked.

Batman nodded. "Always be prepared."

"Please don't tell me that you were a Boy Scout," Robin said flatly. "You'll ruin my glowing image of you."

Batman gave his partner a half-smirk. "No, he was the Boy Scout. Now get to work."

Robin nodded as she took a moment to tap into the connection between her ring and herself. She ran her tongue across her teeth in anticipation as eldritch energy began to course through her body. It was a sensation that had spooked her the first time she had felt it on Oa but now it was as comfortable as slipping into the covers after a long night. Then, of course, she searched her way through it, seeking for whatever part of the web of power within her would be what was required for the task at hand.

Searching.

Searching.

Searching.

_Bingo!_

Batman shielded his eyes as the jade blast of energy poured into the engine. The resulting chain reaction occurred just as he had planned it out six years ago, the surrounding turbines giving off a phenomenal roar as the power poured into the main engine. The transfer took less than five seconds, after which the engine's unique properties transferred the energy into an obscure form of solar-based energy which, when refracted off a series of lenses placed within the engine's core, created a portal of white light.

The Dark Knight stared into the portal for a moment or two. _The wind is low the birds will sing that you are part of everything._

"Do I get my cookie now?" Robin asked.

* * *

Lloyd knew that he would have to deal with his share of monsters when he returned to The Monster Farm. That being said, he was hoping that the confrontations wouldn't be literal. 

"What the ruddy hell are these things?" Nigel asked over the roars and snarls of the cavalcade of hideous beasts that surrounded him. The blade of his enormous battle-axe was already slick with blood of multiple colors as the rotund warrior continued to tear into his many adversaries.

Lloyd waited to remove his saber from the throat of an ebony-skinned beast with a quartet of sharp fangs and an unnecessary surplus of jagged incisors. "Ya gotta remember that Lugae had hundreds of guinea pigs. Guess they had to put the rejects somewhere."

"You mean to tell me that they didn't just get rid of them?" Kara asked. She was standing back-to-back with Lloyd as they fended off a much larger collection of foes. A smattering of green fluid had blanketed the front of her t-shirt but she was otherwise unharmed by the chaos around her.

"Don't suppose you've noticed," Lloyd replied as he wrapped his unencumbered hand around the throat of one of his opponents, "but these berks look to be quite the pain to be rid of."

"Well, leave it to a government agency to look for a crappy answer to a complicated problem," Kara added as she ducked to avoid Lloyd's newest living projectile.

Lloyd chuckled. "Would have thought you'd be more comfortable rainin' death from above. What's with the Hammerfall approach?"

"I saw it in a movie," Kara explained as she used her left forearm to block the veined left arm of a pink-colored monstrosity before slamming her right fist in one of the critter's three noses. "Figured it'd be a good idea what with the close confines."

"You'll get no complaints for me," Lloyd confessed, his saber a deadly blur that cut into one foe after the other. "After all, you're far easier on the eye than the rest of this 'ittle freak festival."

"Well, thank you very much," Kara said with a warm smile. "Still, shouldn't we be keeping an eye on Mr. Thornton?"

"No worries, luv. That old coot is as tough as 'e is ugly. What we really need to worry 'bout is. . ."

But Kara never figured out what they needed to be worried about thanks to a massive hunk of monster crashing down on top of her with enough velocity and force to collapse the stone floor below them. The hisses of several howling beasts accompanied her as she quickly turned the tables on the monster that had gotten the jump on her. As the two of them crashed down onto the floor below, Kara let loose with a blast of heat vision that tore at the skin and melted the skull of her unfortunate foe.

A hasty glance of the room that she had fallen into revealed a small collection of monitors and filing cabinets, many of which had fallen into disrepair due to the numerous crashes from the floor above. As she had anticipated, the renewed onslaught of her unexpected adversaries prevented her from examining the area any further. If she had the time, however, perhaps she would have seen that one of the monitors was active.

* * *

"Y'know? This is not at all what I had anticipated The Speed Force to look like." 

Batman tore his attention away from the kaleidoscope of energy that surrounded the both of them. Although there was a clear presence of physical landmarks for them to stand upon if they were willing, it didn't seem to be the slightest inconvenience for either of them to simply remain where they were. Although he had been in many similar situations before, he still couldn't help but feel disconcerted by it all. Thankfully, Robin's observations were just the solution for his distress.

"And just what were you expecting out of a pandimensional pocket of pure kinetic energy?"

"I don't know," Robin said. "Maybe just a little less Dali and a lot more Toriyama. I'm still waiting for the day when I go on one of these little trips and I have to prove my worth by chasing down a flying cricket with a wooden mallet."

The Dark Knight didn't even bother to try and decipher a whit of Robin's elucidations. "Are you able to focus in on Zolomon's location?"

"Not as of yet," the Green Lantern reported. "There are speed signatures all over the place and I'm having a hard time differentiating between them."

"There are multiple signatures?"

"Oh yeah, a whole kit 'n caboodle. I was hoping I could separate them by focusing upon the stronger patterns or signatures that are moving around but I'm having a difficult time even doing that."

"I suppose it's a natural consequence of the environment," Batman confessed as he continued to pore over the cornucopia of energy around him. "However, given that time is of the essence, perhaps our best approach is to examine the potentialities."

"What a profoundly average idea," Robin remarked. "And, just as luck would have it, I've picked up something that's about 400 miles thataway." She flung her left arm behind her in a direction that, if the back of her head was the North Star, would be somewhat close to south-southwest. "That ring of yours make you good to travel?"

Batman responded by taking off in the approximate direction that Robin had so professionally pointed out. As satisfying as it was to momentarily leave his partner in the lurch, it didn't take long at all for Robin to catch and then pass him. They carried on at a good clip, flying at a speed just a mite slower than the speed of sound as the scenery flew past the detective at a blur.

The strain hadn't begun to truly sink in until Robin had announced that they had reached the halfway point of their journey. However, it hadn't taken long at all before his heart and muscles were straining as if he were running at top speed and he didn't know how to stop it. Even through his increased agony, Batman deduced that though the ring had been enough to keep his body on an even keel when he was still, motion was an entirely different story. However, just as he was about to go into full stop for fear of collapsing from exhaustion, he was struck with a blast of green energy.

"You are now flying Robin Airlines, where the alcohol is free and flowing and the flight attendants have the right to make fun of the passengers," Stephanie declared as she carried her partner along.

Batman silently obliged to accept his partner's helping hand. He felt a distinct need to slip out from under his cowl to wipe his sweat-soaked brow but years of keeping himself shrouded prevented him from surrendering to that instinct. Instead, he worked to slow his frantic heartbeat and pour air back into his strained lungs as Stephanie carried him the rest of the way with a cocoon of green energy.

Their search took them to a mass of rock and grass that incomprehensibly floated along with the energy around it. They found the source of the signature soon after and, just as they had hoped, it turned out to be someone rather than something.

However, the fellow's attire was not mustard yellow but crimson red. His face was mostly covered by a familiar half-mask, although the contours of his face said that he could've been anywhere from 25 to 39. He stood there patiently, as if he had been expecting them, although it was hard to believe that such a thing was possible. Finally, as The Dynamic Duo finally placed their feet on solid ground, the scarlet speedster strolled up to them while merrily waving a hand and sporting an undisguised smile.

"Well, Bruce. Nice to see you finally got that contraption of ours up and running."

Robin jumped as Batman let out an audible gasp of surprise.

"My God," Bruce whispered. "Barry?!"

* * *

Kara let out a grunt as one of the few surviving monsters slammed his meaty fist into her right shoulder. The fact that she had been a foot off the ground was enough for the force of the strike to spin her in a tight circle before she could regain control and slam her feet into the right side of the creature's neck. She followed that up by taking hold of the arm of the creature that had been trying to blindside her, slinging the beast over her shoulder and onto its butt before kicking it into its tag team partner. A dose of arctic breath froze the both of them in place and gave he the opportunity to turn her undivided attention to the one remaining combatant still up to scrap. 

Who, coincidentally enough, howled in agony as a katana dove into its chest. The long blade dug into the monstrosity's gut before spinning upward so that the sharp side faced the creature's torso. Several agonizing seconds passed while the creature tried in vain to remove the wickedly sharp blade before it rose up through the abdomen, stomach, heart, and neck before slicing swiftly through the creature's skull and leaving it to fall to the ground in a bloody mass.

Kara watched in silence as the blade traveled back towards its owner, the sound of the hilt making contact with a gloved hand echoing through the now-deathly silent data chamber. His body was a mixture of muscle and sinew and the man's almost deathly-pale skin provided a harsh contrast from the overwhelming darkness around the both of them. His choice of attire, from his charcoal t-shirt and battle armor to his midnight-black pants and boots, made him appear to Kara as if he were some kind of wraith that had been borne from the atrocities and death that had taken place here. However, the man's short, silver hair provided a quick reminder that this may have only been half of the story.

"Greetings, Miss Zor-el. I've been told that you've been looking for me."

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

Okay. Just got done readin' Astonishing X-Men #23 and I'm not certain what to think of it. I have enjoyed the series, much like most of the comic book fans that I've come across, but I'm having a hard time feelin' some of the dramatic turns that Mr. Whedon has been using to keep things lively. It's great to see a present-day comic book writer convey the heroes of the story to be actually capable of doing something besides getting beaten up and then being depressed about it but it seems that this team's success has been dependent upon incredible luck and circumstance. For one thing, the odds of Cyclops being able to plan out the circumstances and events of the past eleven issues are just about up there in lottery territory. Then again, I've spent the last 21 chapters coming up with increasingly flimsy excuses for how my team of superheroes are able to operate underneath the noses of The Justice League and all their fellow do-gooders so who am I to throw stones?

Oh, and by the way, you might as well start making out Kitty's official death certificate 'cause she now has the life expectancy of a Spinal Tap drummer.

Once again, thanks to everybody reading and reviewing. Thanks always to PofC2 and Wolvmbm for their continued support, to Evil Midnight Lurker for his/her/its first review, and to Rachel, Ryan, and Shawn, three people who constantly assure me with the fact that, no matter what happens, I have an intellectual toehold over at least three of my loyal readers. Does my heart good, it does.

* * *

Issue #48 Review 

Well, now that we've revealed a bit of Lloyd's tragic origin out of the way (You didn't think it would be a happy story, did you?) we can now get to the horrifically violent portion of our program! We've got Kara Zor-el vs. The Silver Coyote, Robin and Zoom's return match is drawing near, and Batman is. . . oh, wait a minute, he's just chatting it up with somebody who sacrificed his life to save all of reality. Oh, and don't think that Nightwing isn't going to get involved as well. So be sure to stay tuned for the next chapter of The Misfits: Unexpected Confrontations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	48. Unexpected Confrontations

Issue #48

Unexpected Confrontations

_25 miles from Gotham City_

The traveler, despite his long tradition for committing acts of vehicular mayhem, had little trouble evading the early morning interstate traffic as he continued east on I-95. He was traveling at a steady clip, no faster than 80, no slower than 70, thus giving him ample enough time to keep his eyes on the road while pondering the upcoming possibilities.

How would he explain his intentions? What were the inevitable questions going to be? How was he going to answer those questions? How would he answer the questions that would inevitably result from the way he chose his answers? The vast litany of uncertain words continued to pick at his already bustling mind as he swerved into the passing lane to pass a 16-wheeler that was seemingly stuck in the middle lane.

Of course, unanswered questions were hardly the worst thing he'd ever have to deal with. As a matter of fact, it was unwanted statements that had always been a more significant burden to bear. He's been told that he's an unwanted failure. He's been told that he's a disgrace for squandering all the opportunities that had seemingly been handed to him. He's been called a success story, an inspiration, and a first-grade failure and all those observations had fit the bill at one point or another in his unusually long life.

And he felt that he had finally gotten to the point in his life when words such as those didn't mean that much anymore. A large part of that, of course, could be attributed to his decision to confront his problems rather than seek ways to flee from their mere presence. He had long since mended fences with the people he betrayed and those who had betrayed him in return, some of which were one and the same. He had acquired a life that was not quite pristine, rarely unremarkable, and littered with the tiny things (at least in his capacious view of the world) that made life simultaneously worthwhile and frustrating.

That is, of course, until he received the latest in a long-running series of unwanted statements.

_You go there and be sad._

Heaven alone knows how many times he had replayed those words in his head since the first time he heard them. The strength of the statement's impact wasn't only due to the person who gave it to him, which was a damning influence in and of itself, but because of how it reminded him that there could be something more. They didn't describe what he had accomplished and instead painted a picture of everything he had tried to do and failed miserably.

He knew he could fill notebooks with the number of failed endeavors he had employed to fill that nagging void. He had tried to follow in his father's footsteps (both of them), he tried to seek a path that was entirely his own, and he had even tried to take what one person drove to failure and did his best to make it a success. Each endeavor led to an eventual failure and it was those inevitable collapses that served to constantly remind him that, despite all he had, it was that nagging cavity that would always leave him looking for more no matter how irresponsible his intentions turned out to be.

_So where does someone with this particular dilemma go from here? How could anyone who was so damn experienced with failure have the slightest bit of confidence about any decision he chose to make? What the hell am I supposed to do when another opportunity rolls around that seems just as good as the one I'm about to try now? What the fuck then?!_

The driver grumbled to himself as he pressed his right foot down onto the accelerator. While doing so he realized that he had just been crudely reminded of a very simple fact: when you're undergoing a roadside epiphany, it's best to have a radio handy so you can shut it the hell up.

There was, thankfully, several particular parts of his life that convinced him to take this particular wind in the road. He knew why he was doing this and why he chose to come here. Gotham was a place where he could either succeed with a flourish or fail to a spectacular degree. If he failed, then at least he knew that he had done whatever he could to make himself extraordinary. He could take comfort in what he had no matter what other future offers were on the table.

But if he succeeded?

But if he succeeded. . .

Then the person that meant more to him than anything else in this world would have somebody that he knew she could be proud of. It was an unforgivable insult to everything she deserved if he failed to accomplish that goal because she deserved to be safe. She deserved to be happy. She deserved to be with someone who is happy.

_You go there and be sad._

It meant more than anything he could ever possibly accomplish.

He wanted to be everything for her in a world where it was hard for somebody like him to be anybody at all. She had flown across Metropolis on the shoulders of an alien who could bench press double-decker buses with as much effort as he put into making his damn bed. He wasn't a master detective or the fastest man alive or was even able to make bullets bounce off his bounteous bosom. Hell, he didn't even have a bounteous bosom.

And how the hell did this train of thought lead him to thinking breasts? Come to think of it. . . when was the last time he got laid? Oh, shit, he can't even remember the last time he got laid. How depressing is that?

Pause.

_Okay. I need to get back on track here._

He sees a sign on the right side of the road: _Gotham City limits_. That meant he was, give or take, about 11 miles from where he hoped to begin his new life, a life that would come with the peace of mind that he had searched for since he was eight years old and something his girl should have had from day 1. He kept his right hand on the steering wheel while his left hand fingered the customized revolver safely ensconced within his favorite hip holster.

"All right, Brucie," the driver said as he took the exit that would lead him to Wayne Manor. "I hope that invitation of yours is still open 'cause going freelance would just be a bitch."

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

"Vincent Culp, I presume."

The Silver Coyote's initial reply was nothing but a hunter's grin full of teeth, confidence, and blood lust. Despite that ferocity, the softness in his unnaturally blue eyes and the serenity on his brow made him appear to be quite placid. The dichotomy of it all made Kara's eyes hurt as she strained herself to prepare to pick up any motion that could possibly indicate to an attack.

"You should consider yourself fortunate, Miss Zor-el." Vincent's voice sounded as if it had been physically scraped from the throat; a series of deep, baritone intonations that Kara found to be far harsher to her ears than the most ominous words that Lloyd had ever produced. "You are one of the few witnesses to what has and shall become the event that will reshape the meaning of everything you know. And, perhaps more importantly, you also have the opportunity to survive the experience."

As bizarre as it seems, a small part of Kara actually took some time to ponder if it actually hurt the man to speak with such a bizarre register. "And just what would I have to do to earn that opportunity?" she asked as she brought her thoughts back together again.

"I know that you train with Lloyd, Miss Zor-el," Vincent revealed as he used his telekinesis to remove the running blood off the blade of his katana. "I respect individuals who possess great power and work to discover what they can do with it."

"What's your point?" The half-Kryptonian kept one eye on the blade while the rest of her body remained perfectly still.

"Your organization and mine are hoping to accomplish great things," The Silver Coyote continued, "I initiated this confrontation in order to show you that an allegiance would make our dreams that much easier to realize."

"And you couldn't have just sent an e-mail?"

"The powerful can only assess the powerful in a place where they have the capacity to express themselves properly," Vincent explained. "I employed these monstrosities, creatures constructed by those who abuse others in order to claim power which does not belong to them, to test you as well as to provide the perfect reason for why we should combine forces. No longer should the mighty be forced, manipulated, and persuaded to carry out the designs of those who fear us and no longer will the weak be allowed to survive simply because of what we provide."

Blue eyes met blue eyes, righteous vigor on both sides seemingly making the air of the dark room sizzle. "I happen to know a lot of people that can't leap over tall buildings in a single bound," Kara crossly replied. "And, unlike you, I think they're worth having around."

The Silver Coyote let out a simple chuckle. "What? Bruce Wayne? Richard Grayson? Doctor Leslie Thompkins, perhaps? Quite the contrary, Miss Zor-el. I find those people to be quite strong. They are more than worthy to belong in the world that I have been created to protect and I would be laughably short-sighted if I chose to believe otherwise."

Kara kept her eyes locked on Vincent, determined to see where this was going. "Then why create an army of unwilling soldiers and why did you do all of it while hurting a man who thinks of you as his older brother?"

Vincent slowly subdued his feral grin in order to shape it into a smirk. "The affection you have for him is embarrassingly obvious. Tell me, has my 'little brother' acquired the emotional maturity to recognize and reciprocate those feelings or is this nothing but a one-sided affair? After all, he never had an eye for blondes before."

"It's not my place to talk about somebody else's proclivities," Kara replied angrily. "But I was the one who was by his side while you used the people he cared about. I was the one who held his hand when he had his fucking back broken by those monsters that you transformed into your own personal foot soldiers! I wasn't the one who hurt him!"

"First of all," Vincent countered, "it was never my intention for Lloyd to come to harm. The confrontation in Philadelphia would never have occurred if Miss Brown had not been doing everything in her power to be an idiot. Our past confrontations are merely the results of miscommunication and a united failure in recognizing what we could do for one another."

"Such heartwarming humility," Kara said without even bothering to hide her dry cynicism. "I hope your excuse for The Joker slaughtering hundreds of people while under the thrall of The Mind's Eye is just as good."

"You say that as if the clown needed additional motivation," The Silver Coyote growled. "And The Joker did not slaughter 300 people. He rid the world of 300 beasts that would have done nothing but fritter away invaluable resources they did nothing to earn. Allowing them to live would only serve the purpose of breeding a new, even more irresponsible generation."

The active monitor that Kara had previously failed to notice flared to life before her eyes with the aid of Vincent's telekinesis. The large screen held only a single image: a picture of Earth.

"There are nearly seven billion people populating this planet, Miss Zor-el. Advances in the fields of medicine and technology have made survival possible for those that evolution would have weeded out only a century ago. However, our planet's resources are achingly finite and will not be capable of providing what is required for the expanding population. Additionally, those in power are so awash within the growing base of power birthed by an expanded middle class that they will choose to do nothing to answer this dilemma until it is far too late."

Vincent moved forward, his slow, steady steps closing the gap between him and Kara.

"The vast majority of those with the power to prevent this growing certainty have become too complacent in their role as protectors. Your group, however, is a blessed exception. You've demonstrated that you recognize the inevitability of having blood on your hands in order to do what is truly right. I know what must be done to make our world a place we can be honored to protect and the only thing I require to achieve it is the assistance of those with the strength and integrity to stand beside me."

Now the two of them, evolutionary aberrations crafted by sick and ingenious minds, were nearly face-to-face. Vincent's hot breath ran across Kara's nose as she thought of the blood she had spilled on Krypton and during the many months since she had wretched her dinner underneath a dirty, makeshift stage in some warehouse in Sacramento. The clarity of her recognitions and the memories of scarlet-covered hands and yellow bile on brown floors were enough to provide her with the words she was looking to say.

"You know what? You remind me of my father."

"Is that right?"

"Oh yeah. You've got the same color eyes, the same pale cheeks, and, just like when I first met my dear papa, you managed to prove that you're nothing but a delusional, phenomenally bloodthirsty douche with only one encounter."

Kara punctuated her reply with a thunderous right hook aimed straight for Vincent's chin. A well-timed teleportation was all that saved The Silver Coyote from a great deal of harm as he appeared at Kara's back just as the alien had finished her swing. He shifted into a right pivot as he raised his katana over his head, preparing to sink the gleaming blade through the Kryptonian's spine. The tip of the blade was less than an inch from Kara's skin before her momentum turned into a right side roll that allowed her to dodge the strike with ease.

"I haven't fallen for that move in months, _sir_," Kara said with a dangerously toothy smile.

Vincent smiled as well. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

The Silver Coyote's rush towards Kara was a precursor for the heated session to come. The meter-long instrument of death in Vincent's hands gave him a significant advantage in reach but Kara continued to use her considerable speed to both nullify that benefit as much as possible and to keep the battle close despite her opponent's frequent teleports. Neither of them were capable of scoring a solid blow on the other in the early going, their impressive skill, speed and maneuverability making it next to impossible for them to be caught by fist or sword.

As unpleasant as the thought seemed to her, Kara could not help but ignore that Lloyd and Vincent's fighting styles were remarkably similar. That knowledge benefited her as she was able to anticipate how her slippery opponent would attack, how he would defend himself, and when was the best time for her to go on the offensive or remain on the defensive. Unfortunately, this familiarity also brought with it the distressing truth that not once during her training sessions with Lloyd had she emerged the victor.

Kara caught a steady glimpse of Vincent's face during another exchange of futile strikes and discovered that the countenance provided another heaving helping of similarities. Vincent's pale, blue eyes held the same calm neutrality in battle that had intrigued her since her very first sparring session with The Black Dog. It was a look that clearly said, no matter what the present situation, that they could finish the battle at any time simply because they were that good. That look had frustrated her to her very core when she first came across it and hadn't had the slightest clue on how to read it. However, many hours of training and working to develop the same expression gave her the unique knowledge of what was truly behind it.

The two separated once again, neither one being able to touch the other. A thin bead of sweat, a byproduct of the pre-game mayhem, slid down Kara's forehead and slipped off her face when it failed to slide down the left side of her nose.

Vincent was as cool and collected as he had been before it all began. "You've managed to ward off my attacks while simultaneously working through my attempts to breach your mind," he unnecessarily pointed out as the two of them began to circle each other. "I think it's fairly safe to say your cousin would not have given me near as much trouble. I can see why Lloyd would be so intrigued by your capabilities."

"You comin' on to me?" Kara fired back with a saucy smirk.

"Don't make such an unfounded accusation," Vincent countered with an angry hiss. "I just ate."

It appeared that the flurry to follow would prove to be as ineffectual as the first two. However, the extra split-second that Vincent took in his attempt to sink his blade into Kara's shoulder with a two-handed thrust was just enough time for Kara to weave underneath it and deliver a kick to the gut. The lack of timing and preparation cost her a bit of power but it was still enough to send her opponent crashing into the cement wall. Chalky, white dust hung in the air from the impact as Vincent regained his senses in nearly an instant.

"Don't worry," Kara assured him. "I don't feel too badly about the fact you turned me down. Lloyd's a lot cuter anyway."

She rocketed toward Vincent with angry intentions, her small fists leading the way. The hundredths of a second it took to travel to her destination was enough for Vincent to counter with a front somersault that allowed him to harmlessly pass over the attack and land at her back. Kara, anticipating the counter in turn, twisted left in order to get back on even ground. A slight, digging sensation in her gut quickly told her that she had made the wrong decision as Vincent's katana scraped across her abdomen. She took to the sky to avoid further damage, the warmth of her blood bizarrely soothing as it trickled down her flat stomach and toward her belly button.

"First blood to me," Vincent pointed out.

* * *

_The Speed Force_

Batman supposed he could blame his outburst of shock and joy on momentary exhaustion rather than the fact that he had just been unexpectedly reunited with one of his oldest friends. Of course, judging from the look on Stephanie's face, he was strongly inclined to believe that he was going to receive a fair share of ribbing for it sooner if not later.

"Don't sound too happy to see me," the original Justice Leaguer said with a smile. "You'll ruin your reputation."

Of course, he should have known better than to forget that Barry wouldn't resist the temptation to call him on it either.

Ted Kord had once told him that people usually became heroes through happy or unhappy accidents and Barry Allen was another example of that particular theory. He had been a police scientist for the Central City Police Department before a freak accident in his laboratory altered his body chemistry and musculature to the point where he became the fastest man alive, a man who could travel faster than the speed of light so long as he was able to keep one foot on the ground. Much like Bruce, Barry was capable of realizing what his talents could do for others and employed his keen mind and sturdy feet to fight crime. Unlike Bruce, who chose to employ his talent and intellect to drive fear into the hearts of criminals, Barry used his talents to be a source of inspiration for the people of Central City and, over time, for people around the world.

A cursory examination would have made it appear as if the two of them would have little to talk about, much less be able to work together to the extent of being able to create a machine that could access a previously unknown pocket dimension. However, in the rare times that Bruce was seeking company within his super-powered companions, he often found himself gravitating towards Barry, perhaps even more than Clark.

The two of them soon discovered, once they both worked over their shared hesitance of one another, that they had a great many things they could talk about that didn't have a thing to do with saving the world. They both shared a deep interest in criminology and a thirst for delving into the unknown. Additionally, they both happened to have taken in young men who amazed, inspired, confused, and frustrated them on a daily basis and it was that similarity that led to a near-limitless supply of stories and numerous, spirited debates upon the topics of proper parenting and emotional management techniques.

Needless to say, The Batman didn't exactly put all of the techniques discussed into practice.

Robin was laughing as she flew towards Barry. "Oh, I like you already," she declared as she extended her hand. "My name's Stephanie Brown, also known as Robin and as the greatest, most powerful, and most humble member of the Green Lantern Corps."

Barry peeled off his crimson mask to reveal short-cropped blonde hair accentuated by eyes as blue as the Kansas summer sky. "Pleased to meet you," he replied without returning Stephanie's gesture. "My name's. . ."

"Barry Allen, I know." Robin hastily interrupted while seemingly not the least bit put off by the speedster's refusal to shake her hand. "I've read all about you in Bruce's personal files. He said he would have liked to have been like you if he hadn't become a broody, obsessive maniac."

Barry raised his left eyebrow as he tried not to openly roar with laughter as a growl rumbled from Batman's lips. "Well, I suppose I should be honored."

"We didn't come here for a heart-warming reunion," Batman coarsely interrupted. "We're on the trail for Hunter Zolomon."

To his credit, the speedster was quick to regain his composure. "The latest Reverse Flash. What can I do to help?"

"We've been trying to track him through this dimension but I can't get a hold on his specific signature," Robin replied. "Is there any chance that you can point me in the right direction?"

Barry cocked his neck, his eyes momentarily focused upon the green ring on the young woman's right ring finger. He then shifted his gaze towards Bruce, an obvious question in his baby blues that was answered with a curt nod from the caped crusader.

"I believe I can," he finally replied. "Can you pick up a signature from the north-northeast? It's about 10,000 miles from here."

Robin hummed as she shut her eyes, her mind once again diving into the energy the ring had trusted to her. Unconsciously mixing her power with the stretched out nature of the pocket dimension, she hurtled through the colorful void without even moving an inch. An almost kaleidoscopic whirlwind bombarded her senses as she kept moving faster and faster, her throat going dry from the strain and the anticipation of confronting the monster that murdered Bartholomew Allen. As she concentrated, the two gentlemen spent the handful of silent seconds quietly waiting for the inevitable.

"Bingo!" The Green Lantern shouted in triumph. "Found the little mustard bottle bastard! No way is he going to get away from me this time!"

Barry grinned, amused by Robin's unfettered enthusiasm. "Need anything else from me?"

"Not at all!" Robin almost yipped. "Yo! Tall, dark, and pissy! Want to horn in on my collar?"

The Batman shook his head. "I'm afraid I'd only get in your way, Robin. Just remember to be careful. Don't pursue the collar if you encounter more unknown variables. Zolomon is a very dangerous man and this is exactly the kind of situation that can lead to a trap."

Robin gave her mentor a genuine smile. "No worries, boss man. You just focus on forming whole sentences so you can have a proper conversation with your buddy here. Leave the ass kicking to me."

"Will do," Batman replied as Barry chuckled and Robin hurtled off towards her next order of business. The two men watched the streak of green as it continued to fade in the distance before ultimately vanishing from their sight.

"That's an. . . interesting partner you've got there," Barry pointed out as he turned his attention back to his fellow former Justice Leaguer. "I'm guessing that she's the new Robin?"

"I'm just as surprised about it as you are."

Barry chose to ignore his old friend's sarcasm. "And a Green Lantern as well," he went on. "And I suppose she's the one who powered the engine that got you here?"

"Right again."

"Huh." Barry wrapped his right hand around his chin before scratching his fingernails across his Adam's apple. "I don't seem to remember Hal being able to pull that off."

"Does she look like Hal to you, Barry?"

"Decidedly not."

Pause.

Barry followed suit on Bruce's laughter almost immediately after it began. Of course, Batman's idea of a laugh is a few escaped exhalations of air coupled with a somewhat exaggerated smirk but he would take what he could get. Unfortunately, that led to Bruce moving forward and attempting to embrace him only to discover that his arms passed through his body. He sighed as Bruce stepped away from him, a look of shock mixed with a tiny trace of hurt etched on his face.

"The Anti-Monitor's cannon disintegrated my body, Bruce. The only reason you can see me here is that I was a part of The Speed Force when the tachyon particles ripped apart my physical presence in our reality. What you see here is nothing but a portion of my spirit that is aligned with what kept me alive ever since I was struck by that bolt of lightning."

Batman paused to seriously consider the likelihood of such an eventuality. He found himself quite perturbed that it turned out to, in fact, not be the weirdest thing that he had ever come across. "Sounds absurdly complicated," was his eventual response.

"You're tellin' me. Boston Brand had a hell of a time trying to explain it to me after it happened. I think the guy is still a little afraid to talk to me."

"I'm sorry, Barry."

Barry groaned in frustration. "Bats, just put a stop to that right now."

"I should have found another way. There could have been something that I could have done. . ."

"And it wouldn't have made a bit of difference because this was the decision I chose to make," Barry sternly interrupted. "So, instead of unburdening a couple tons of your self-produced guilt upon my nonexistent shoulders, how about you just tell me about what's been going on since my passing?"

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

_THUNK!_

Nightwing let loose with a cornucopia of colorful profanity as he scurried underneath the kitchen table. The crossbow bolt that had whistled past his right ear embedded itself into the small gap between the top of the oven and the upraised kitchen cabinets that held a vast array of glasses and plates. His temporary safety was quickly punctured with the realization that his current position was not the least bit advantageous and he quickly began to crawl on his hands and knees until he was able to roll behind the stand-alone cabinet in the middle of the room.

Arrowette busied herself by loading another bolt into her crossbow. "You know," she began. "A couple of things came to my attention while I was sitting there in The Batcave and I figured that you'd be interested in hearing them. Number one. . ."

Nightwing took a moment to poke his head out from the left side of the cabinet. Arrowette's shot rid the acrobat of some of the aesthetically pleasing follicles on the top of his head but did no further damage as he cursed and hid himself again.

". . . the real Nightwing would have never called Robin 'sweetie'. Number two: the real Nightwing, for some unknown and certainly stupid reason, absolutely hates M & M's and would rather chew on a cyanide capsule than eat one."

The lanky crime fighter emerged from the right side of the table this time, causing Arrowette to fire another shot that caused him to duck under cover once again. "What the hell is wrong with you, ya cow-eyed bitch!?"

"Which brings me to discovery number three," Cissie continued. "The real Nightwing wouldn't call anyone a bitch. He was brought up better than that. Number four: the real Nightwing, if he ever had so little to do with his hollowed out existence that he decided to spend his time watching Robin eat, would have never looked so damn creepy doing it! Do you have any idea how fucking disturbing that was?!"

Nightwing sprang over the cabinet, hurling a frying pan at the archer's head as he moved. The projectile was just enough to disrupt Arrowette's fourth shot and allow him to get close enough to slam his left fist into Cecilia's head. Much to his consternation, the female vigilante managed to roll with the punch and counter with a pair of punches to the body before finishing her combination with a sweep kick that put him on his ass.

Needing some room and time to reload her crossbow, Cecilia leapt away from Nightwing's grasp and began to backpedal. "Oh, and by the way," she added as she stopped herself a good ten feet away from her unknown aggressor, "the real Nightwing would have never fallen for that little trick."

"Oh, but I'm Nightwing, my little ginger snap," he replied as he rose to his feet, a disgusting smile on his face. "I'm 100 Boy Wonder from the All-American smile to the chiseled ass cheeks. It's just that somebody else is running the show."

"Is that right?" Arrowette asked as she slowly crept towards the atrium. "So what do I have to get you out of there and does it involve knocking you unconscious 'cause that would be really keen."

"You should have stayed in Elias, little lady," the man masquerading as Nightwing menacingly suggested. "Ya could have just stayed away and gone to school with the rest of the little chickies with their obnoxious gossip and their wonderfully provocative school uniforms. You could have avoided being slaughtered in a bloody and entertaining manner."

He lunged for Arrowette, cutting off whatever time she could have had to reload her weapon. The archer countered by dropping her crossbow, rolling to the right, wincing as her injured shoulder rolled against the carpet, and yanked a log of dry firewood out of the fireplace with her left hand. Having recovered from his initial attack, Nightwing launched a right jab at his opponent's injured shoulder. However, the young woman was quick enough to weave beneath it and land a sturdy shot to the back of her head with her newfound weapon.

"Sorry, but I just don't have skirt legs," Cissie replied as she began to press her advantage.

* * *

Barry bobbed his head up and down for a good five or ten seconds after his friend had concluded his condensed, yet very detailed description of the events that have occurred since his passing. Some parts of the story he had heard before from others who had managed to visit him but the speed merchant had to admit that The Batman's version of the tale was a great deal more interesting (although not necessarily in a good way). His friend held nothing from him, making no effort to gloss offer his tactics against The Secret Society or to hide the details of the events that led the world from what it was today. 

It also reminded him of why, back when they worked together on one project or the other, he always insisted on telling a story before Bruce had his turn.

"You did say you wanted to know what was going on," Bruce pointed out.

"Indeed I did."

The two friends shared a moment of silence that wasn't quite fully companionable.

"And what do you think about it?" Bruce pressed forward, as he was prone to do.

Barry let out a sigh, refusing to allow his friend to goad him into a harried response. "You know, I would always get into it with my friends in the force about this. It started out with a sort of friendly tone but every time one of the rogues would put an officer in the morgue the words would get a little angrier, the looks a little colder. They couldn't understand why they had to have blood on their hands in order to defend others while I stayed squeaky clean."

"And where do I stand in this debate?" Bruce asked.

The former Flash shook his head. "Bruce, I don't have the authority or the stomach to judge you. And besides, you know full well that my past experiences in judging others tended to go profoundly crappy."

The Gotham-born vigilante had the decency to be too quick to agree.

"It didn't start when Eobard took Iris from me," Barry began, referring to the man that had been the victim of his only act of murder and had been known as The Reverse-Flash before Hunter Zolomon took up that blood-soaked mantle. "It was all those times when I worked with The Justice League and I would just be surrounded by people who seemed to be so happy with the masks they were able to put on. You know I never wanted to be The Flash, Bruce. I wanted to be Barry Allen and I put so much time and energy into being somebody other than the mask that, when I failed, it reminded me of what little power I truly had. I needed to feel like I had some form of control but killing Zoom just wasn't enough."

He turned to face Bruce, his eyes radiating with the same palpable sadness that had been in Ollie's eyes nearly two years ago when Green Arrow expressed his own fears to him. "The mind wipes were just a way for me to punish everyone I blamed for what had happened to me. I knew about the potential repercussions but I was too wrapped up in my own hatred, self-directed and otherwise, to care."

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Barry?" Bruce asked softly. "Or Wally? We would have done anything to help you."

"I wasn't ready for compassion, Bruce. I only wanted pain."

Bruce nodded, his mind all too familiar with his friend's explanation. He was also aware of what to say and how to help thanks to the people that had done everything in their power to help him, one of whom was currently hurtling through this bizarre portion of rarely trod upon portion of reality.

"Barry, you earned my forgiveness a long time ago and you didn't do that by protecting the planet or by being the fastest man alive. You did it by being brave enough to try and be something other than a man behind a mask and I can honestly say that I would not be the man that I am today if I didn't have your example to follow."

Barry was once again stunned into silence. This time, however, it wasn't because he didn't know what to say.

"Wow. I sound like quite a guy."

Bruce gave off a grumble. "Then again, your willingness to agree to the mind wipes, a decision that would nearly lead to the annihilation of the planet, puts a little bit of rust on your luster."

"True, true," Barry agreed. "Well, if anything else, we superheroes can take comfort in the fact that we can point out the mistakes of others when we get caught doing something phenomenally stupid."

"It's a comfort," Bruce concurred before the two friends shared another round of subdued laughter.

"You sure your partner is going to be okay?" Barry asked.

"You know I wouldn't have let her go if I didn't."

"You wouldn't have been able to stop her from leaving either." Barry was forced to shake off an annoyed glare from his old friend before he could continue on. "And now that I've got your undivided attention, I'd like to push my luck and ask you for a favor."

* * *

The battle between Kara Zor-el and Vincent Culp had been nothing but a violent dance, a coordinated frenzy of limbs, blood, and the cracking of bones intermixed with the occasional lash of platinum. It was clear that the exhibition had its fair share of missteps, judging from the angry cuts on Kara's forearms and the sight of The Silver Coyote's shattered left arm rendered useless thanks to a kick that nearly pushed his elbow through his skin. Nevertheless, the two partners continued through their paces, the both of them determined to take the lead at the expense of the other. And, as is often the case in situations such as these, it was the more experienced participant who figured out how to do so. 

It began with Kara attacking with a flying forearm aimed directly for Vincent's Adam's apple. The speed and battle instincts of The Silver Coyote proved to be enough to allow the assassin to duck under the attack, thus placing him in a prime position to sink his blade through the meat of Kara's left leg. The Kryptonian screeched in pain as she dropped to the ground like a stone, her senses swimming in agony as she struggled to get a bearing on her surroundings.

"I just punctured your femoral artery," Vincent explained with his customarily cold drawl. "It's an injury that would lead nearly anyone else to a very painful death. However, I imagine that you would be able to recover if you were given enough time to do so."

Vincent now stood over Kara, his blade at the young woman's throat.

"So I'm sure you'll understand why I want to finish this quickly."

More blood spilled onto the floor as mystic metal sunk deeply into flesh.

Vincent stumbled backwards, dropping his blade to remove the battle-axe from his left shoulder. He cast a hateful glare at his newest attacker, memories of pain and compassion simmering through his troubled mind as his former teacher awaited his next move.

"Right then, sunshine," Nigel said softly as he bent his knees and went into a traditional Sambo stance. "Let's you and me have a go."

The Silver Coyote, his eyes pools of silver smoke, was all too happy to oblige.

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

I'm really not certain what to make of the rumors that Chuck Dixon may be bringing back Stephanie Brown in his first arc on Robin. I'm already cheesed off at the fact that DiDio and company have seemed to do everything they could to distance themselves from what could have been a great character and seemingly saying that she deserved her fate. Then again, her death was a big reason why I started writing this in the first place and, if Steph does return from the grave, I'll eventually be disappointed by the ultimate results of the occurrence because I'll just set the bar too high. Don't worry, though. I'll keep on writing. I prefer my version of the DC Universe now anyway.

Thanks to everybody who continues to read and review. If you review, I promise I'll give you a preview of the next chapter. Oh, wait a minute. . .

Issue #49 Preview

We've got quite a few unanswered questions on our hands, don't we? Who is the man that's heading towards Wayne Manor? What is the favor that the late Barry Allen wants from Batman? What is the mystery behind Nightwing and can Arrowette stay alive long enough to find out? Can an overweight, swarthy bartender succeed where Krypton's greatest warrior failed? Is Robin _ever _going to get her rematch with Zoom? I mean, it's been four freaking chapters! Find out the answers to three of these questions in the next installment of The Misfits: Necessary Assistance. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	49. Necessary Assistance

Issue #49

Necessary Assistance

Zoom believed he could actually feel each drop of sweat that had gathered upon his forehead and dampened his mask as he raced through the nebulous energy constructs that constituted The Speed Force. The obnoxiously persistent Green Lantern had been after him for nearly ten minutes, having no doubt been informed of his location by that interfering specter that was once Wallace's mentor. The combination of his dexterity and a surprising amount of good fortune had allowed him to dodge every blast and avoid every snare that the energy manipulator had thrown at him so far but he was well aware that he would soon have to find a way to fight back.

A possibility arose with the sight of a mass of land blanketed by a midnight-black nimbus of energy. He dashed straight into it, slightly relishing the outburst of profanity that poured from the girl's mouth due to being thrown off the metaphorical scent. However, his momentary pleasant disposition faded quickly as his mind raced to determine the wisest course of action.

_The Silver Coyote would owe him for forcing him into this position_, the speedster thought as he continued to search for any indication that the blonde-haired nuisance had located him. Although he could recognize the importance of the assassin's intentions, Zolomon never appreciated being the carrot on the string. Wally had unknowingly done the same to him during a confrontation with Gorilla Grodd and it had resulted in a crushed spine and a ruined livelihood.

"MARCO!" shouted a cheery voice.

Zolomon gnashed his teeth, the gusto in the voice of his particular rabbit picking at his patience. He partially dug his toes into his boots and raised his heels, preparing himself for a hasty getaway.

"MARRRRRRRCO!" Robin shouted again, a hint of rancor now laced through her otherwise jovial demeanor.

He never expected the girl to give him this much trouble. Yes, the brief exchange in Brazil had been mildly disconcerting but Zolomon had expected his familiarity with the Speed Force to give him the advantage. Unfortunately, the young lady had taken the new environment in stride and seemed almost pleased with the opportunity to put herself in danger. The cavalier attitude, combined with the skill in which she had managed to twist the battle to a place where she would be more comfortable, made him want to abandon his assignment altogether and leave immediately. Of course, this hesitancy almost immediately coincided with what would be the eventual cost of his decision and he cast his mind back to the task at hand.

Then he realized that Robin had been quiet for quite some time now, a disturbing notion given the loquacious nature of his opponent. A second realization came soon after, namely the sensation of the ground rumbling underneath him.

"POLO!!" the girl screamed as she burst out of the ground and landed a solid uppercut across his chin. The speed of the impact was enough to send the speedster tumbling through the air but his ample dexterity allowed him to quickly recover his bearings and land on his feet, his heels sliding against the dirt as he eventually came to a stop. He turned his eyes toward the girl, who was laughing gaily as she shook the dirt and rock from her hair, and felt a rising spike of anger and frustration roiling through him.

Zoom again launched himself into the vibrant fusion of color and energy, his determined stride bolstered by the necessity for more advantageous ground. The rush of wind behind him and the twinkle of green he could see in the corner of his eye provided enough evidence that the girl was in pursuit. Sure enough, the speedster once again felt the sizzling heat of her energy bolts, forcing him to vibrate his molecules in order to escape unsinged. The warmth he felt in his body as the blast harmlessly passed through him, a sensation that he had not felt in the beginning stages of the battle, offered disturbing proof that it was only a matter of time until she would be able to pierce his defenses.

"Stand still!" the girl screamed in what he had presumed to be a German accent. "How can I shoot you if you keep moving?!"

Astonishingly, the ridiculous command had caused an idea to percolate at the forefront of Zolomon's brain. He quickly put his plan into motion, combining his own control of motion with his ability to slow time around him to bring himself to as abrupt of a stop as he possibly could manage. Just as he expected, Robin passed right by him, her focus upon being the hunter leaving her unable to adjust to the change as quickly as she would have liked. Additionally, her subsequent slowing down gave him ample opportunity to close the gap between them and batter away at the young woman with several uncontested blows. Even the eventuality of the girl bringing her defenses back to bear did little in subduing the satisfaction of forcing the prattling little twit to shut her mouth if for only a moment.

His offensive came to a halt when Robin managed to bob underneath a right hook and snag him by the elbow. He felt the lurch of motion as she spun him around and flung him away. Fighting to maintain his equilibrium, Zolomon frantically began to vibrate his molecules once again. He had pulled the feat off with only a sliver of time to spare as an emerald spiral of energy drilled into what would have been his stomach. He managed to fully right himself about a half-second later, turning to catch the intrigued grin on the face of the woman who had been a hair's breadth away from killing him.

She put her hands on her hips, her entire countenance beaming with confident enthusiasm. "Now, Zoomie. Does this mean you're actually going to stop running and fight?"

He replied with a forward rush that created a sonic boom behind him with his sudden velocity. Neither the boom nor his initial flurry had the slightest effect on his adversary as the two of them clashed within what had been his nebulous prison until The Silver Coyote had freed him from what had become an unwanted purgatory. The girl remained mostly on the defensive, just as he had anticipated, as he continued to look for an opening. His own impressive speed enabled him to dodge the Lantern's precise counters and leave the two of them at another stalemate, a situation that allowed him the time to iron out another possibility.

"No."

Zoom followed up his statement by running away from the scene once again. He once again thanked the effects of the pocket dimension that allowed him to run without the presence of something to place his feet upon as he widened the gap between himself and the Green Lantern. Of course, he also realized that an extended chase would merely allow another opportunity for the insufferable energy manipulator to deduce the frequency of his intangibility. Because of this, he quickly went back to the task of stretching his senses in order to find an advantageous battleground. He would soon find one in another stray mass of land covered in tall grass and trees a mere 12,000 miles away from his present location. He completed the journey to it in a matter of seconds, knowing full well that the girl would only be just a step behind.

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

"You should not have come here, Nigel," The Silver Coyote said as he stared down his former teacher. He flung the blood-soaked battle ax at the swarthy man's feet before employing his telekinesis to place his katana back into his right hand.

"Well, you know me, sunshine," Nigel said with a mirthless grin. "Ya shouldn't go diggin' up all these ugly beasties with too many teeth and plenty of limbs to sever. Sitch like this and I just can't help causin' a round o' havoc."

"Never one to turn down a scrap, right?" There was a hint of mirth in The Silver Coyote's scratchy American patois.

"Too right."

Vincent nodded, his mind recalling many over instances when the rotund warrior's thirst for violence had led to stressful battlefields and particularly violent training sessions. "I'm giving you the opportunity to leave this place. After all this is hardly the place where a distinguished member of a quiet community should choose to spend his nights."

"See, now there's a matter where we disagree," Nigel replied. He made certain to keep one eye on his former student as he bent down to pick up his own weapon. "'Cause what I'm seein' right now are a whole bunch of nasty buggers, a little blonde poppet who I'm wagerin' tried to make peace and ended up with an 'ole in her leg, and two of me best students on the way to 'ave it out. All that is tellin' me that this is right precisely where I should be."

Vincent shook his head as he assessed the state of his recovering left shoulder. "I will not deny that I owe you a great deal for the effort you put into teaching me how to better employ my powers. You treated me and my 'little brother' with compassion and respect and, because of that, I would be content to reward you by allowing you to spend the rest of your remaining years living peacefully in the world that I will create."

The assassin's eyes narrowed as he brought his right forearm across his chest, the blade of his katana at eye-level with the squat bartender.

"However, I will not tolerate any more of your interference. If you continue to hinder the affairs of the mighty then I will have no choice but to bring you down to earth and bury you beneath my feet."

Nigel nodded slowly, his stocky legs bent in readiness as he brought his enormous hatchet to bear.

"Well, let me just say that I'm glad you think so much of me lessons, Vincent. Truth be told, ya were never the most courteous of students an' a part of me always wondered if ya ever took me seriously. All that bein' said, I wager to say that there's still a mite bit more that could be placed in ya noggin an' I feel like I'm tha bloke that can do the hammerin'."

The Silver Coyote once again shifted his stance, bending his right knee forward and allowing the flat of his blade to rest against the back of his neck. His still shattered left arm hung down uselessly, a handicap that the warrior was quickly soon to be rid of.

"I will take no joy from this."

A front cross block with the blade of his hatchet was the only thing that saved Nigel from being decapitated as Vincent began his offensive. The crashing of metal against metal reverberated through the expansive chamber as teacher and student went to war within the stifling darkness. Silver and white sparks rose from the rushed collisions as the two experienced fighters prodded at each other's defenses, each of them looking to capitalize on whatever minute openings their opponent's previous offensive left to offer. Their accumulated knowledge of one another, garnered through hundreds of hours of training in locations throughout the universe, were now being employed to determine the most efficient way of ensuring that the other man would meet an expedient demise.

Nigel gave out a grunt as he countered a fearsome lash with a quick block and a spinning, over-head strike that had missed the bridge of Vincent's skull by mere inches. The old hand was determined to keep the battle close, well-aware that he could not possibly match the younger man's speed. He knew that he would have to efficiently employ his decades of experience as well as his own impressive strength if he was to keep the pace. The first clue that even his best would not be enough came when Vincent's crystal blue eyes began to darken and sharpen, an unmistakable sign that he was delving more into the demon within him.

"Might want to tone that down 'ere," Nigel warned through clenched teeth as he struggled to force the blade of his axe into Vincent's face. "Mind that I've seen that part of ya before. It didn't impress me then and it sure as ruddy hell isn't gonna wow me now!"

Vincent quickly rolled to the right, causing Nigel to momentarily stumble forward as he tried to recover from the strength he had put into trying to cleave his foe's skull. It was just enough of a distraction for The Silver Coyote to employ his telekinesis and send his grizzled adversary straight through a cement wall with such velocity that he crashed through it with only the slightest bit of resistance. He chose not to pursue the offensive, recognizing that the old man would simply use his impressive muscle control to roll to his feet despite landing nearly head first. His hypothesis was quickly proven to be correct as Nigel rolled his body so that he absorbed a great deal of the impact with his right shoulder, a move that would allow him to use his powerful legs and expansive backside to tumble back to his feet.

"Always did rely too much on ya tricks," Nigel taunted as he calmly leapt over the recently created wreckage.

"You shouldn't make your envy so easy to spot, old man," Vincent replied with an ominous whisper. "Don't even begin to deny the resentment you felt when you were put to the task of training those who you knew would eventually grow to be more powerful than you could ever hope to be. You could have been content with the pride you could have stolen from our accomplishments but you chose instead to plague yourself with your own phenomenal limitations."

Nigel continued moving forward, his stride confident despite the knowledge that he was fighting a losing battle. "Got nothin' against the student surpassin' the teacher. What gets me guff is the fact that there was so much more that ya could 'ave done, Vincent." The old man heeded Vincent's snarl but chose not to acknowledge it any further. "Can't rightly figure out 'ow much of the blame falls to me but I still aim to correct me mistake."

Vincent rushed forward, determined to prove his former mentor wrong.

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

This was not the first instance where Cissie had cursed Nightwing's hardheadedness. Of course, this was the first time that she had actually been frustrated towards the literal durability of his cranium.

The shot to the back of the head had disoriented the vigilante for no longer than a second and a half, a window of time far too short to take advantage of given her debilitated state. It wasn't even enough time for her to bring her crossbow to bear as a spinning kick knocked the weapon out of her hands and put her back at a disadvantage. She managed to land a forward thrust kick to the man's right shoulder but the impact turned out to be just what he needed to roll backward onto his feet and rush at her again.

She shifted her weight to the ball of her right foot, turning her body into a sideways stance designed to keep the injured part of her body as far away from her aggressor as possible. The decision quickly bore unexpected fruit when it allowed her to safely parry under the flying kick that served as the start of Nightwing's offensive and stay within a position where she could either defend or strike. She chose to do the latter as Nightwing followed up with a sweep kick (which she managed to leap over easily) and a pair of Kobujutsu-style double-footed spin kicks (which she spun around while wondering how it was even possible to have an ass as nice as her opponent's).

The good humor quickly turned sour soon after Nightwing had both of his feet back on the ground. A momentary instinct to attack with her right hand left her a step too slow to dodge Nightwing's next attack, a powerful left hook that landed right upon her injured shoulder. The lance of pain caused her to lose her footing and tumble to the ground, which led to another mistake in judgment as she reflexively rolled her right shoulder in order to get back to her feet. Nightwing was upon her before she could fully recover, his body perfectly positioned to deliver a knockout blow with the escrima stick in his left hand.

_BLAM!!_

The sudden shotgun blast shattered a sizable portion of the mantle over the fireplace and caused Nightwing to momentarily stagger backward in surprise. The unexpected distraction also gave Cecilia the time to regain her surroundings. She twisted her head toward where the blast had been fired and saw Alfred Pennyworth at the foot of the main stairwell with the still smoking firearm. The _shi-clack _of the loading mechanism echoed up to the high ceiling as the two combatants froze in preparation of whatever was to come.

"I sincerely hope that both of you have explanations for your actions," the butler curtly suggested as he pointed the shotgun at almost the precise midpoint between Arrowette and Nightwing's skulls.

"Alfred, the archer's been hypnotized," Nightwing was quick to "explain", his legs bent and his hands spread out to his sides. "Keep that gun on her so we can figure out how to get her out of it."

Cissie's eyes widened with alarm, petrified that the situation was somehow going to get even worse. "Wait a minute, Alfie! He's the hypnotized one! Point the gun at him!"

"Well, you'll pardon me if I don't put a great deal of stock in such sturdy explanations," Alfred broke in before a full-on argument could begin. "I don't suppose that either one of you would happen to know the assigned password designed for when such a situation arises?"

"There is no password," Cissie and Dick answered almost simultaneously.

The response clearly surprised the butler. Still, that didn't stop him from keeping the shotgun raised.

"Come on, Alfred!" urged Nightwing. "Remember when I was nine and I stole one of Bruce's grappling guns to see if I could swing off the second floor balcony? You kept chastising me the entire time you bandaged up my ankle!"

Arrowette hissed back a bit of breath. "Shit! Alfie, you have to believe me! I know he's got the history. . ."

Cissie found herself momentarily lost for words as Alfred shifted his stance so she was staring right at both of the shotgun's barrels.

"Yes, Miss Cecilia," Alfred replied. "Master Dick has a great deal of history here. In fact, he has spent enough time here to realize that it would be highly unwise for him to take a fight into an area of the manor where so many of the family heirlooms happen to be kept."

Arrowette smiled as Alfred shifted his stance once again. Nightwing, on the other hand, clearly did not appreciate the new perspective of the Remington 870 in the butler's hands. He responded with a muffled curse and a hasty toss of one of his escrima sticks that slammed into Alfred's wrists and forced him to drop his weapon. The masquerading acrobat rushed at the former Interpol agent with a concentrated dash, tucking and rolling in order to dodge the diving Cecilia as she tried to intercept him. His remarkable agility, honed through hundreds upon hundreds of hours of pilfered training, allowed him to cover the distance between him and his elder aggressor in a manner of seconds, enough time for him to catch Alfred while he was still recovering, slide behind him, and capture him in a headlock with his left arm while pressing the tip of a knife blade to Alfred's throat with his right hand.

"Y'know, I've been needing a new butler," Nightwing said with a tone of confidence despite the gulf of air he had to inhale in order to say it. "Ever since I coerced my last one into cutting off his arms I've noticed that my knickknacks have been starting to gather dust."

There was no possible way for Arrowette to mistake the thirst to spill blood in Nightwing's eyes as he shifted his murderous gaze towards her.

"Now here's how it's going to go, pretty 'ittle Cissie," he explained with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "You, me, and Jeeves are going to take a little trip down to this Source Room of yours and you're going to help me take down the mojo that's keeping my more powerful colleagues from razin' this place to the ground. I would have done it myself if your pretty boy's little mind didn't tell me that it takes two of you twits to open it. Of course, I was originally going to circumvent that little hassle by ripping out your eyes but I suppose beggars can't be. . ."

The hostage taker's spiel was interrupted by a pair of gunshots, one coming just a half of a second before the other. The short span of time was enough to allow the first bullet to ricochet off the hard wooden floors of the atrium and catch Nightwing on the underside of his right wrist, forcing him to drop the knife with a strangled grunt. The second shot went straight through Nightwing's left shoulder, traversing through the skin and muscle and missing Alfred right ear by a handful of centimeters. The beleaguered caretaker of Wayne Manor was quick to take advantage of the situation, breaking free from his unfavorable position while his charge fell to his knees.

The rescue effort was nothing short of a showcase of proficiency that could have only been pulled off by someone with a healthy dose of creative insanity.

"Come on, short pants. How many times did Alfie tell you not to fool around in here?"

Of course, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who honestly believed that Roy Harper had ever been playing with a full deck.

* * *

Robin tried her best to downplay her frustration as she set foot upon the latest battleground, a rainforest type expanse of land that had doubtlessly been dragged into The Speed Force during someone's previous light-speed excursions. Her effort to balance herself hit another snag when her ring informed her that the surrounding energy fluctuations were making it more difficult for it to pick up specific speed signatures. Resisting the urge to smack the eldritch instrument of destruction in a Quantum Leap/Al type fashion, she tried to take some satisfaction into the knowledge that her hunt had picked up another tricky variable.

_Always did like it when the baddie's capable of putting up a fight_, she reasoned as she silently pored through the green, orange, and yellow foliage and vegetation. _And it's been a while since I've seen some genuine nature. I didn't get much of a chance to take a glimpse at it when I was chasing the little yellow bastard at Mach 8. Then again, maybe this isn't really genuine nature. Maybe it's like in The Matrix with all the office buildings and the trampoline roadways? I mean, it doesn't seem natural for something like this to exist in a place like this_. . .

If Stephanie recognized the fact that she was inclined to pointlessly yammer within her own head as much as she was with other people then she had clearly chosen to ignore it. Her failure to quickly find her prey led to a momentary desire to bang her head against one of the nearby trees but she quickly managed to rein in her impulsivity.

_Using my eyes too much_, she decided. _And besides, I'll take Zatoichi over Neo any day of the week._

She shut her eyes, choosing to rely on her other senses to find what she was looking for. Despite her seemingly unhealthy aspirations for chaos, it didn't take long at all for her to center her turbulent emotions and concentrate on the task. She took in the churning of energy and motion that was The Speed Force and mixed it with the gifts that the ring provided her in order to enhancing her senses to a degree that mere sight could not possibly accomplish. She remained in her relaxed state for many prolonged seconds awaiting whatever was to come with as much patience and serenity as she could muster.

Zolomon was too fast for her the first time, the whoosh of his motion still too unfamiliar to her to respond to the double-fisted shot to her stomach before it sent her crashing through one of the nearby trees. She landed lightly on her back and hips, the rest of her body already working to recover from the damage as she instinctively rolled back up to a standing position. However, despite all the unexpected motion, her eyes remained shut. She bent her knees slightly and tensed her arms, locking her body within a traditional Hapkido stance.

It wasn't enough for her to avoid Zoom's second assault, a series of shots to the head and abdomen capped off by a right hook that nearly broke her jaw and sent her tumbling down once again. This time she had managed to see where he was coming from a moment before his arrival but there still wasn't enough time for her to react. She momentarily felt the smudge of dirt upon her cheek and the burning of the cuts upon her small face but she was quick to nudge it aside. She returned to her previous stance, shoulders lowered, arms and knees tensed, her eyes still closed.

_C'mon, Steffers. _

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

_React to act._

A hum. A whoosh.

"Got you, bitch."

Robin opened her eyes, tilting her head to the right to dodge a punch aimed for the bridge of her skull. Using her right hand to catch the speedster by the upper half of his left armpit, she stunned Zolomon with a stern knee to the gut before launching into her main offensive, a torrent of fists and feet that resulted in over a dozen uncontested hits before a blast of energy from her ring sent her foe hurtling backwards. She was quick to chase down her airborne quarry, determined to be there to meet him when he arrived at his destination. However, Zolomon's mastery over The Speed Force allowed him to manipulate his body and slow to a stop well before the spot where the Green Lantern had suspected him to land.

Stephanie soon found herself caught up in Zoom's counterattack, a funnel of kinetic energy created by Zolomon encircling her at nearly the speed of light. She felt the pull of the turbulence around her, a force that made her feel as if her bones and organs suddenly thought it was a good idea to work themselves free from their confinement, as she calmly turned to her ring again. Using the weapon's ability to pick out specific signatures of energy, she poured her own magic into the energy of the whirlwind rather than the source. The infusion was enough to supercharge the living conduit to the point where the rogue speedster was no longer able to control it, resulting in an explosion that sent Zolomon flying while leaving her essentially unharmed.

She didn't bother hiding her smile. She knew Batman would have been impressed.

* * *

Roy Harper didn't bother hiding from the fact that he was experience a bit of guilty pleasure as he beat the stuffing out of his best friend. He supposed he should have felt a little guilty about it, particularly when you considered the bullet wound and the fact that Nightwing was clearly not himself, but his many past humiliations at the hands of the emotionally stunted, pixie-shorts wearing, perfectionist fop allowed him to work through his guilt in impressive fashion. He had divested himself of the gun in his right hand in order to give him something to punch with but his other customized revolver remained in his left hand ready to end the fight whenever he was ready.

A stiff, driving kick to the stomach was enough to send Nightwing down in an awkward tumble that gave Cecilia more than enough time to recover her crossbow and train it upon the fallen attacker. Roy took a moment to wondered why the former Young Justice member happened to be at Wayne Manor as he admired how the reddish-brown battle armor contoured to her lithe, muscular frame.

_How old is she? 17?_ Roy pondered. _Shit, 28 years old and I'm already a dirty old man._

Nightwing, recognizing he was now in a no-win situation, calmly raised his hands over his head. "Don't think I won't feast on your entrails for this, Speedy," he replied menacingly. "Still, I think I can read the writing on the wall here so I think I'll just cut my losses."

Cissie momentarily jumped as Roy threw his other gun with a motion so swift that it shouldn't have come from an ordinary human. The butt of the pistol collided with the right side of Nightwing's jaw, the impact causing a spurt of blood to spew from the acrobat's lips as he fell to the ground unconscious. To her credit, the archer recovered quickly from her shock and was only a step behind the man known as Arsenal as she rushed to examine her frequent partner.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked while Roy busied himself with the task of forcing open Nightwing's mouth. The both of them winced at the acrobat's blood-stained teeth but Cissie still managed to hear Roy's sigh of relief.

"'Hot Pants' was being telepathically manipulated," he calmly explained as he swept his left arm underneath Nightwing's knees. He quickly stood back up, his unconscious friend cradled in his arms. "Whoever had a hold of him tried to convince him that it was a good idea if he bit off his own tongue." He moved towards the passageway leading to The Batcave in steady but rushed steps, making certain to keep Nightwing's neck elevated so the blood would trickle from his mouth rather than down his esophagus. "I was able to knock him for a loop before he could pull it off. Alfie! You good to go!"

"I'll have the surgical table prepped in a moment," Alfred replied as he raced ahead of the two sharpshooters.

Cecilia was momentarily surprised by the butler's impressive pace but quickly returned to what she believed to be the task at hand.

"Arsenal, why the hell are you here?"

"Heard you guys had a bunch of spare rooms."

Roy didn't slow down for even a moment as he turned and gave Cecilia a charming smile. Of course, Cissie thought it wasn't nearly as charming as Nightwing's but that was neither here nor there.

* * *

Kara couldn't help but notice the blood pouring from the hole in her leg as she tried her best to push back her own gut wrenching torture and return to the fight. The mystical properties of Vincent's blade that allowed it to puncture her skin so easily was now working to prevent her from recovering from her wound at her normal pace. She couldn't help but be momentarily overrun by her own disappointment as she continued to try and keep her head from swimming and her body from quivering.

She knew she had to work her way through it. She wouldn't let anyone be hurt because of her. She couldn't.

Nigel and Vincent's most recent flurry came to a halt as the two warriors stared each other down once again. "What's wrong, old man?" the latter asked with an ingratiating hiss. "Afraid your little golden child isn't capable of handling the task I've laid in front of him."

"Neither one of us need to spare an ounce of worry 'bout 'im," Nigel replied. "'E'll be droppin' by once he's done with ya little three-ring circus."

The Silver Coyote merely smiled, the anticipation in his eyes as clear as the cloudless sky. "Well, then I suppose I'll have to reward him for his hesitancy."

He suddenly dropped his katana, the blade giving off a soft _klang_ as it struck the cement. He curled in the fingers of his now unencumbered hands, motioning for his former mentor to make his move. The corpulent fighter was quick to oblige, swinging his heavy axe in a manner where the blade was aimed to slice the confident swordsman's neck clean off his shoulders. However, a simple step forward enabled Vincent to grasp the heel of the axe with his right hand just inches before the blade could reach him. The defensive measure left his left hand free, which was all he needed to send a blast of energy straight through Nigel's abdomen.

The proprietor of The Rusty Sambo could not even let out a surprised gasp as he was flung backwards, the annihilation of his lungs leaving him unable to speak. The heat of Vincent's blast was enough to mostly cauterize the enormous aperture but blood began to pool upon the ground in the spot where Nigel limply landed.

Vincent was only given a moment to feel the triumph of victory before an enraged scream signaled the Kryptonian's return to the battlefield. The combination of the girl's blood loss and her poorly controlled rage made her offensive remarkably clumsy and easy to avoid. Seeking to better prepare the tableau for his little brother's imminent arrival, he swiftly ended the exchange with a stiff kick to the head which doused the fire in Kara's eyes and set her body crashing to the ground again. He teleported to the spot where the woman's body would skid to a stop, his demonic energy already preparing to focus upon the next task at hand.

Kara did all she could to stop Vincent from digging into her mind but her exhaustion and disorientation was more than enough to blunt her defenses. She screeched as memories, both pleasant and otherwise, flashed through her on their way to being viewed by this unwanted observer.

Vincent took it all without reservation, accepting Kara's painful memories of her home world, her many hideous crimes, and her most pleasant memories with equal approval. The many fond thoughts directed towards The Black Dog made him smile in anticipation but there was something else that appealed to him even more.

"So, Miss Zor-el," he said with measured interest. "We appear to share a history of being betrayed and harmed by those we believed we could trust. I can see why Lloyd would take such a vested interest in you."

He silently used his telekinesis to lift his katana from off the ground and send it back into the hands of its owner.

"Let me see if I can provide a refresher course."

* * *

The battle between Robin and Zoom had transformed into a subsonic flood of kicks and punches. Fallen leaves and branches swirled around them as the waves of momentum generated by their attacks picked the forest around them apart. Stephanie reveled in the velocity of the combat accepting the pain from Zolomon's attacks with almost as much enthusiasm as the hurt she gave in return. Zoom, on the other hand, judging from the dim glow of his scarlet eyes, was clearly growing weary of the entire affair.

"You don't even realize that this is only the beginning, do you?" he warned just after breaking away from the engagement. "You have no idea what we have in store for you."

"Well, I'm hoping that it's a little more impressive than this," Robin countered, "'cause this is just getting all kinds of unsatisfyin'. Maybe it would work better if you were wearing bicycle shorts. Or maybe some nice leather. . ."

Stephanie's style tips were cut off by a streak of red that sent Zolomon sliding across the dirt and grass, the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into a jaw adding an interesting sound effect. Zoom's bizarre tumbling finally came to a stop as he slammed into a tree, the above ground roots providing a bit of a ramp so that the speedster was several feet off the ground when he made his final collision. His response was almost immediate, his molecules dissipating from sight as he took his leave of The Speed Force and left his aggressors behind.

Of course, that left Robin to the task of trying to determine the identity of her unexpected assistant. Thankfully, the man leant her a hand in her endeavor by turning around, thus giving her a better view of his thin, muscular frame accentuated by a red outfit with a yellow and white lightning bolt insignia across the chest. He took his mask off to reveal a mop of medium-length red hair, a pair of bright-green eyes, and a face highlighted by a smattering of freckles and a look of utter disdain.

"All right," said Wally West. "Who are you and why the hell are you here?"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

First things first. I'd like to apologize for the slight delay on the new chapter. Things have been kind of busy in the life of Matt the Batman Fan and I figure if the comic book industry could take a day off for Thanksgiving than so should I. Not to worry though, it is tremendously likely that the next chapter will be published as scheduled so please don't withhold your lovely readin' and reviewin'.

While I pause to avoid jumping on the bandwagon of people hating the direction that Marvel is taking with Spider-Man let me just say that I'm really looking forward to playing the new installment of the Metal Gear Solid series. No matter how confusing or depressing my other not-so-creative endeavors may become, I can still find a great deal of joy in having a world-class assassin hiding for his life within a moldy cardboard box. Of course, now that I hear that you'll be able to hide within an oil drum and use it to run over people, I am an exceedingly happy camper. Although it may not be certain that I'll actually choose to wade through Kojima's bizarrely complicated plot, you can be certain that I will spend several dozen hours seeing if I can complete the came solely by running around in a barrel.

That's the way I roll.

All right. All right. Enough bad puns. Thanks to all those who reviewed and those who are reading and allow me to show you the next chapter preview.

* * *

Issue #50 Preview

Well, two of our main scraps have been resolved but it looks like the third one is heading in a potentially nasty direction. What does The Silver Coyote have in store for our little half-Kryptonian and what will happen when Lloyd finally arrives? What's got Wally so cheesed off and what do Barry and Bruce have to do with it? When will Roy Harper finally be able to resolve his exaggerated sexual tension? Find out the answer to two of these questions (I'll leave it to you to figure out which ones) in the fiftieth installment of The Misfits: The Downside of Knowledge. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	50. The Downside of Knowledge

Issue #50

The Downside of Knowledge

_The Monster Farm_

"Would you like to hear a story?"

Vincent's question for Kara was delivered with a soft whisper seemingly devoid of any malice or hatred. Of course, he had found other ways in which to express these particularly caustic emotions with his katana, passing the time by tracing cuts along his victim's body that ranged from hairline scrapes that barely broke the skin to small gashes that caused blood to bubble up from the apertures. The deep-seated ruminations that The Silver Coyote had managed to glean from Kara's mind told him that she couldn't understand how she could still feel every scratch and nick, how the small flashes of fresh pain could somehow be differentiated from the overwhelming agony that was already crashing upon her body. Additionally, his perusal of her more instinctual contemplations told him that she would have liked nothing more than to tear him to bloody chunks and make him pay for how he's hurt her and how he's hurt him.

"I've never had the patience for fables myself," he explained as he watched a trickle of blood drip down Kara's forehead. "After all, what rational human being would allow their mind to become ensnared within the trappings of fallacies when it can be far more rewarding to delve into the world's truths?"

Kara shivered as she tried everything she could think of to block out the pain and regain her bearings. She needed to fight, to run, to do anything but be still.

"For example, you told me that you were there for Lloyd when he was hurt by other people he came to care for," The Silver Coyote continued as he rose to his feet. "Now such an endeavor, if performed for truly altruistic reasons, is a deed that truly deserves a handsome reward. So, in order to properly recompense you for your efforts, allow me to let you in on a little secret."

The Silver Coyote bent down once again, looking every bit like his namesake as he cast his cobalt eyes over Kara's face. Kara, to her credit, kept a steady gaze upon her torturer, if only to give her an object in which she could focus her emotions and spark some reserve of life and energy within her aching body and mind.

"The truth is that everyone that Lloyd has been hurt by everyone he has ever known," Vincent revealed as he put two coarse fingers on top of Kara's jaw line and slid them across the bone and skin. "He placed his heart and trust into the hands of Mao Tenryu and the power monger rewarded him by building his empire upon his own blood and bones. Scandal, that conniving whore, manipulated his innocent love for her in order to craft a weapon she could use to destroy and humiliate her father. And as for his mother and father. . ."

Vincent paused in his diatribe and cocked his head to one side, his eyes still locked on Kara's face as if he were truly examining the alien's state of mind.

"Well, perhaps now isn't the time to talk about such things. It's rather obvious that you're in no condition to handle any further undue stress or strain."

Kara grunted as Vincent sunk his katana into her left shoulder, the loss of blood and overload of endorphins limiting her from a more appropriate response. The grunt had been coupled with a particularly loud crash and a bestial roar, signaling that Lloyd had managed to rid himself of another of the persistent foes that Vincent had prepared for their arrival. The silvery-haired monster acknowledged his former colleague's accomplishment with a detached smile while keeping his hands wrapped around the hilt of his blade, reveling at the increasing pallor of the Kryptonian's skin. The young woman gritted her teeth, the gesture an unflinching refusal to give in to her own agony.

Vincent gave Kara a respectful nod before he rose back to his full height once again, releasing his blade while allowing it to remain wedged between the bones in Kara's shoulder.

"Of course, this isn't to say that Lloyd is merely an innocent victim within his own truly sorry tale. His grisly exploits of moral ambiguity notwithstanding, our mutual friend often brings about this pain by setting up expectations for others that are far too high for anyone to accomplish. He wanted Mao to be the father who would be a constant and uninterrupted source of direction. He wanted Savage to be the lover who would always be able to warm his bedside, enduring his insecurities whenever he no longer wished to bear them. Mr. Thornton, as I'm sure you've been able to determine, was supposed to provide the right answers in the times when he couldn't even determine the questions. I suppose that you could hardly blame them any of them for growing weary of trying to maintain such an unachievable image and taking advantage of such blind devotion. It's only human nature."

Vincent perked up his ears at the sound of incoherent mumbling. He turned toward the source of it, watching as Kara struggled to pull the blade from her shoulder.

"So now you plan on using him," Kara whispered, her right hand feebly moving inch by inch towards the blade's metal grip and its ebony shark skin covering. "Why? 'Cause it's your turn?"

The Silver Coyote initially responded by using his telekinesis to cleanly slide his blade out of Kara's and send it back to his hand. "Because I don't want to see him repeat his past mistakes," he replied, a noticeable hint of venom in his voice as he used his coat to wipe the blood off of the blade. "Mister Wayne, of course, is taking the place of Hong Kong's venerable tyrant. The little Green Lantern seems to be filling the boots of our corpulent former mentor quite nicely. "

Once again, Kara did her best to stop herself from trembling as Vincent once again bent down to take a closer look at her. She dimly noticed that the raucous sounds of battle that had been emanating from the upper levels had begun to taper off. However, she couldn't quite determine whether that was due either to the reduced amount of ongoing activity or her own rising delirium.

"And you? Well, I think we both know what my little brother is expecting out of you. The only real question is when you'll hurt him like everybody else."

"Nice. . . nice speech. . ." Kara said shakily. "Still. . . not answering. . . question."

"That's because it is a ridiculous inquiry," Vincent replied dismissively. "This isn't my way of taking advantage of him, Miss Zor-el. In fact, one of my principle reasons for choosing to wage this war is to rid Lloyd of his greatest weakness: his refusal to carry out what he was created to achieve. Instead of embracing what he has become he chooses instead to fritter away his energy by casting himself as a victim. I refuse to allow him to continue to allow himself to be plagued and persuaded by his own insecurities. I want Lloyd to be proud of what this cruel world has crafted him into and fight for what he deserves."

"Why should you. . . why even pretend to care what Lloyd wants?"

"I already told you," Vincent said again. "I'm not pretending at all. It's just as I said when I attempted to spare Mr. Thornton: I do not forget what few genuine kindnesses that people bestowed upon me during my rise to realization. Lloyd was there for me during a time when I could not provide for myself and I will always be indebted to him for his kindness and his willingness to see to my welfare when everyone else chose to turn a blind eye. He deserves the world that I shall create, perhaps even more so than myself."

"You know he won't go along with it," Kara said defiantly, the flame returning to her voice even though her limbs remained cold. She spit out a globule of blood in order to make certain that her words would be clear. "That's why you stole The Mind's Eye from Mao and led us on that wild goose chase. You needed a distraction in order to buy the time you needed to retrieve the White Martians out of The Phantom Zone."

The Silver Coyote made no effort to deny the accusation. "You should tell your cousin to keep a tighter grip upon his impressive array of Kryptonian technology. It was hardly any trouble at all for me to acquire the Phantom Zone projector from his so-called Fortress of Solitude. Of course, I also owe you a great deal of the credit for my continued concealment, specifically in regards for the blind determination that both Brainiac and your grandfather displayed in their quest to place you within their thrall."

"And you left the projector with them," Kara concluded with a strain of effort. "Just so you could throw us off the scent even more."

Vincent's grin was all that Kara needed to realize she was on the right track. "Of course," he admitted, "I'm not about to say that I had prepared for everything. I certainly didn't count on Deathstroke deciding to throw his own hat into the ring. I'll have to make certain to repay him for his nosiness once he sticks his head back out of the ground."

"But you did know enough to realize what Slade was going to do with the info he collected. That's why you set up the trap in Philadelphia," Kara continued on. "It was just another way to throw us off the scent and keep us busy while you set this whole thing up."

Vincent didn't even both to hide his approval. "You're a great deal more intelligent than you give yourself credit for."

"Maybe I am," Kara replied before surrendering to a damp cough, "maybe I'm not. But I am smart enough to know why you really created your army."

"And why is that?" Vincent asked, legitimately intrigued by the young woman's answer to avoid the temptation of using his telepathy to find it on his own.

"Because it's just like Scandal said. He's better than you."

A menacing narrowing of the eyes was the only response that The Silver Coyote could produce before a loud crash resounded through the floors above. The Black Dog streaked through the fractured cavity, his lightly tanned skin almost completely covered in dry blacks and wet reds. It was nearly impossible to determine how much of the blood on his body was his own and the combination of the blood soaked saber in his left hand and the absolute disrepair of his clothing did nothing to elucidate the mystery.

However, it didn't take Lloyd long at all to deduce the scene that he had forced his way into. He turned his attentions to his oldest friend, his pupils as gray as smoke and his so apparent and stark that it was almost child-like in its presentation.

"Why are you doing this?"

His voice was nothing but a mumble, as if he wanted more than anything to not say the words.

"It was not my intention for it to come to this," Vincent replied while making no effort to defend himself from anything Lloyd could have thrown at him. "They attacked me and I was forced to defend myself."

"You call this self-defense?" Lloyd asked incredulously, his voice punctuated by his own dismay.

"My primary intent was to speak with you one-to-one," Vincent calmly replied. "There's no need to blame me for your own hesitance."

Lloyd flinched for just a fraction, an unmistakable signal that he had found truth in what most would take as a ridiculous claim. "Then what the ruddy hell do you want to talk about?"

Vincent held his arms out wide, his open posture now almost devoid of restraint. "I wanted to tell you that it's not too late. I want you by my side, just as it should be, and I want to help you fight for what we rightfully deserve."

"And just what do we deserve?"

"To have the opportunity to reap the fruits of our labors and sacrifices," Vincent answered. "Surely you're weary of allowing others to take what we bled for and pretending to find fairness in it all. We lost our childhoods, our innocence, because somebody wanted us to fight battles that they couldn't possibly have won on their own. We deserve to take the power that they gained because we were the ones who bled and suffered to take it!"

"That's not our right," Lloyd said with absolute certainty. "Mao taught us better than that."

"The only lessons he gave us were those he could use to achieve his own aspirations!" Vincent countered with an almost strangled shout. "Why do you think that Nigel and Savage chose to leave his employ? It was because they realized that they would gain nothing for themselves so long as they continued to give whatever they had earned to that monster! _Why can't you see that_?!"

Vincent grinded his diatribe down to a halt, noticing that Lloyd's anger, which had been diluted by the initial shock and disappointment, was beginning to froth and bubble once again. He shook his head, silently chastising himself for allowing his emotions to momentarily get the best of him at the worst possible moment.

"I'm sorry, little brother. I should have known better than to give you so much to digest in so short a span of time. I think it would be better for the both of us if I gave you some time to think everything over."

The assassin straightened his posture as he moved to slide his katana back into the scabbard strapped to his back.

"I just hope you can understand," he said before teleporting away.

* * *

_The Speed Force_

"I really can't agree to do something like this."

If his non-corporeal form still contained actual wits, Barry felt that he would have honestly reached their ends by now. "Bruce. . ."

"I've told you what I'm trying to accomplish here, Barry!" Bruce snapped back. "And you know the first rule of successful chemistry as well as I do. There is no wisdom in introducing a questionable variable within a tenuous solution unless you have reasonable evidence that the variable will produce the response you're looking to achieve."

"Bruce, this isn't a matter of introducing an acid with a base," Barry calmly explained. "This is about people."

"Which, in case you've forgotten in your absence," Bruce countered, "have the potential of being infinitely more volatile."

Barry couldn't help but chuckle. He had anticipated some resistance to his rather spontaneous idea but his old friend's display of his defenses was so much more than he had been expecting that it simply couldn't be anything less than amusing.

"Barry, I am fighting a war with a magnitude that I am still attempting to understand," Bruce explained, his tone scaled down to the point where it now sounded as if he was trying to explain things to a small child. "I have spent the last two years consciously and unconsciously constructing an operation that is capable of engaging in warfare with global threats before they have the risk of harming innocent people. And now, as I and the people that have entrusted me with their lives are forced to launch ourselves upon whatever this new battlefield may be, you expect me to take on a recruit that has a long-standing proclivity to avoiding my orders _as a God damned favor?!_"

Of course, now Barry had to just laugh outright.

"It's not funny!" Batman reminded his amused colleague.

Earth's original speedster needed a moment to recover, or at least restore himself to the point where he could carry on regular speech.

"Good Lord, Bruce. I mean I knew that the two of you have never really seen eye to eye but. . ."

"And there are reasons for that, Barry," Bruce replied with a great deal more sincerity and a noticeable twinge of regret. "This isn't a case like Dick or Kara or Lloyd. I have no right to interfere with his life and everything he has earned and accomplished. Quite frankly, neither do you."

Barry had no problem either weathering or accepting the truth behind his friend's accusation, the acquiescence making his tone a great deal more reserved when he spoke again.

"Bruce, I know better than anyone that there's a fine line between being content with your place and being too afraid to find out where you have to go. Now you may believe that he's found some kind of happily ever after but what I'm seeing is that he's hiding from a world where he could do so much more. If he keeps going down the path he's chosen to follow then there's going to come a time when he may very well lose everything he has earned just because he was too scared of the possibility of making the wrong decision."

The old friends discovered they each needed a moment, their haunted memories almost tangible within the peculiar ether of The Speed Force.

"Bruce, with all due respect, he is the greatest hero that I have ever had the privilege of seeing in action." Barry said with solemnity and absolute certainty. "And I owe it to him to do whatever I can to help him become the best he could possibly be. That's why I'm asking this of you, my friend."

A counterargument was already at the tip of Batman's tongue well before Barry had concluded his impassioned plea. However, out of respect, Bruce took a moment to adjust the ordering of his words and the tone he would use to say them.

"This isn't just something that I can agree to do, Barry. At least without hearing what he has to say about it."

"WHEN THERE'S TROUBLE YOU KNOW WHO WILL FALLLLLL! TEEN TITANS!!"

And, just as when the emotion and tension between the two old friends had seemed to reach its peak, the arrival of merry soprano song stylings ripped it all to shreds.

"WHILE BLINDFOLDED I CAN BEAT THEM ALLLLLLL!!! TEEN TITANS!!"

"You know," Barry said as he looked up to greet the source of the singing, "she's got a pretty good singing voice. 'Course, it's hard to tell when she's screamin' at the top of her lungs like that but still. . ."

Batman, his own left hand tightly wrapped around his eyes and nose, was not quite capable of replying.

"WHEN THERE'S EVIL 'BOUT TO AMASS! YOU CAN REST KNOWIN' I'LL SAVE THEIR ASS!"

To his credit, Bruce did manage to hear the rush of sound that signified Wally's arrival. He opened his eyes in time to witness the last vestiges of crimson streaks as the speedster came to a stop just five feet in front of him. The detective could already see the suspicion pouring through the younger man's countenance even without the shielding provided by the red and yellow uniform that covered the vast majority of his body and the mask that hid his eyes.

"Comin' down!" Robin warned before she descended to the ground beside Wally. "Hey, B-Man!" she said in greeting when her feet met solid ground. "Lookie what I found!"

"Where's Zoom?" Batman asked without bothering to hide his exasperation. His choice of tone clearly had a greater impact on Wally than on Stephanie, judging from how quickly Wally's stare had shifted away from his former mentor and back to him.

"Got away," Stephanie explained. "Felt kind of bad about it so I decided to get a replacement." She gestured toward Wally in the manner of a game-show host showing a lucky contestant their brand new car. "He's cuter than Zoom, I hear he has a much better sense of humor, and has an exceedingly better taste in clothing!"

The mischievous Green Lantern paused in her effort to sizzle her discovery to take another gander at the crimson-colored uniform complete with exceedingly yellow boots and equally tacky lightning bolts on the top sides of the head.

"Well, two out of three ain't bad."

"Hello, Wally," Batman said evenly.

"Batman." Wally's tone was no warmer. "Your partner tells me you were looking for Hunter Zolomon."

"Indeed we are." Batman wasn't taken aback in the least of Wally's tone. Barry, on the other hand, was already shaking his head in exasperation while Stephanie busied herself by shifting her gaze between Bruce and Wally. "However, we'll be leaving shortly, seeing as how he's apparently decided to move elsewhere."

"Well, what do you know?" Wally asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You've managed to make a plan that I'm not in complete disagreement with."

Robin narrowed her eyes as she continued to look back and forth between the two former Justice League members. "Hey, what the hell is going on? I thought this guy was supposed to be boyishly charming and witty. Where's the charisma?"

"That's enough, Stephanie," Barry interrupted. "You know, it just occurred to me that I've already gotten tired of the good guys arguing with each other and I haven't been alive to witness most of it. Don't you guys ever get tired of all this hostility?"

Robin gave out a snort despite herself. Barry's comment also drew his nephew's unsettling glare.

"What the hell is going on here, Uncle Barry?"

"Wally, I've asked Bruce to take you out of here." A growl emanated from Wally's lips before Barry could even finish. "I want you to join his team because I think you could do a lot of good," he explained with a bit more volume behind it.

"How many times have I told you, Barry? I've got other things that I need to worry about than playing superhero, especially if that involves being part of The Superfriends with a guy who seemed to do everything in his power to make a living hell out of the lives of the people I cared about."

"Excuse me?" Stephanie asked sharply. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Who the hell am I?" Wally snapped back at the blonde Green Lantern. He pointed an angry finger at The Dark Knight. "Who the hell is he? And, since we're busy asking questions, here's another one! Have you ever been blinded before? 'Cause that's what your wonderful boss did to the last Green Lantern he worked with!"

Robin refused to back down despite her boss's attempts to intervene. "That wasn't him! That was Ra's Al-Ghul!"

"Who was using protocol measures designed by him in case we did something he didn't approve of!" What few parts of Wally's face that wasn't covered by his costume were nearly as red as the fabric around it. "He also happened to create the bullet that allowed me to experience the pleasure of enduring a 14-hour long seizure, which I suppose was my punishment for believing that I could trust him to watch my back! Oh, and let's not even bother to count the number of times that you turned Dick's life and psyche into a pile of shit just because he wanted to produce a carbon copy of himself!"

"Now you just need to shut the fuck up!" Stephanie ordered as she put a hand on Wally's shoulder. However, any possible attempt at a follow-up was cut short as Wally used his phenomenal speed to move within inches of The Batman.

"You know what?" Wally asked as the shadowy vigilante remained silent and still. "I don't know what Barry and Dick ever saw in you and I no longer have the energy to figure it out. I do know, however, that I want you out of my life before you can hurt any of the other people I care about."

"That's enough, Robin!" Batman barked, causing Stephanie to cease her preparation of an energy blast that, had it connected, would have doubtlessly done a great deal of harm to the furious man in front of him. His eyes remained locked on Wally's as he gave the order, his stare far softer than the angry glare he was being assaulted with.

"You know, it just occurred to me that the two of you are very much alike."

"_What?!" _Bruce and Wally each exclaimed as they turned towards Barry. The discovery of their shared exclamation caused the both of them to give each other angry glares before turning back to the contributor of such an intriguing hypothesis.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," the former policeman went on, "your usual demeanors are about as different as night and day. On the other hand, it's hard to ignore all the similarities. Neither one of you had ever intended to be superheroes, the both of you are protective to a fault when it comes to the people you love and you each have a shared tendency to get argumentative and moody when somebody else comes up with a good idea that you didn't think about."

"I AM NOT!!"

Bruce and Wally's second stereo reply almost left Stephanie in stitches. Barry, on the other hand, managed to stick to his guns.

"Those kinds of similarities can cause anyone to bring out the worst in each other. Or their best."

Wally turned back to Bruce to give him another once over, the muscles in his jaw and lips a great deal more relaxed than before. He turned back to Barry.

"Barry, I know that this isn't what you had planned for me when I became The Flash." Wally yanked off his mask to reveal the sorrow in his olive-colored eyes. "You know I was never comfortable with being a hero. I have a life here; a life that is just as important as what I used to have. Maybe more so."

"Then consider this a last request," Barry said quietly, "from a dead man to a good friend and a man who was all I could have asked for in a son."

What was left of Wally West's prepared fury had died in an instant under the words of his mentor. He had to force his eyes to hold back a tear as Barry did all he could to place a hand on his shoulder, the both of them realizing that only the sentiment behind the gesture was real.

"I used to be The Fastest Man Alive," said Barry Allen. "But somehow the two of you always seemed to leave me star struck. And, just between the four of us, I think it'd be a damn shame if the world was robbed of seeing what the both of you could do."

Robin found that she had to wipe the sad smile of her face as she flew towards Batman. However, a look from the vigilante told her that there was no need to push the argument.

Bruce turned to Barry and nodded, his approval reserved but genuine.

Wally turned around just in time to see the gesture and acquire the realization that the ball was now in his court. He kept his eyes on Batman for a moment longer, his mind picking up a degree of serenity in the older man's eyes that, as much as he tried to deny it, seemed to be a piece to a truly intriguing puzzle.

"This isn't just my decision," Wally told him.

"I know."

* * *

The Black Dog's mind was an absolute mess, his thoughts and attention torn between a litany of sights and possibilities that were just as unappetizing as the last. Lies and promises and betrayals and vows of security all had equal authority within his troubling cognitive cornucopia as he struggled to make sense of all that was behind it. However, despite all the interference, there was a single thought that managed to push its way to the front of his psyche and dominate his actions. 

_I have to help Kara._

He teleported to Kara's side in an instant, forcing himself to see her broken, blood-soaked features. He bit back his curse of The Monster Farm and the realization that his former home had once again served as the backdrop to the latest in a long-standing series of personal nightmares as he searched for a way to make the situation right. He also felt the bile of self-hatred bubbling in his gut as he continued his observation, a tempest that, despite the circumstances, was a great deal more pronounced then whatever hatred he felt for his former friend.

_Did I hesitate? _

_What stopped me from making any attempt to confront him? _

_Why did I not keep this from happening?_

He momentarily stuffed his inquiries down, determined to do what he could in the here and now. He brushed Kara's left shoulder with as much tenderness as he could muster, taking considerable precautions to avoid the wound there while making no effort to keep away from the blood that had collected there.

"Kara, I'm so sorry," Lloyd's apology, as much as he tried to avoid it, came out uneven in volume and pitch, the sorrow and shame pouring from his voice.

"I'm all right," Kara's assurances were equally shaky as she struggled to get to her feet, her dozens of wounds already beginning to mend. "I just need some. . . time alone."

"Come on, luv," Lloyd said as he rushed to stand as well, moving to help Kara stand. "Just let me help you. . ."

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

The Black Dog hastily backed away, his surprise quickly giving way to confusion and hurt as Kara took several slow steps that increased the difference between them.

"Just leave me alone."

The warm caress in Lloyd's gut that he had come to associate with Kara's presence had become the rake of brutal claws scraping at his already threadbare insides. He immediately redoubled his efforts to race through the options available to him, searching for any possible solution that could prevent what he believed to be the inevitable treachery.

_I could use my telepathy_. _Maybe just get inside her head and see what I could do to make it up to her. I know she'll be mad at the onset but I have to know what I can do. . ._

Lloyd's thoughts were soon interrupted by a shift in the surrounding rubble as an irritated Nigel Thornton struggled to get back on his feet. The task took several attempts but the portly bartender eventually succeeded with the aid of proper motivation provided by several bursts of lurid profanity. Lloyd remained silent as his former teacher made his way towards him, his attention drawn to the ongoing results of Nigel's recovery from Vincent's assault. Indeed, what was once an eighteen-inch long hole in the center of the old man's abdomen had now been reduced to a gap that was just under a foot as Nigel's body continued to struggle to reproduce the skin, muscle, bone, and organs that had been obliterated by The Silver Coyote.

"Oh no, don't worry none 'bout me," Nigel grumbled moodily. "Just worry about yer little poppet's distress. I'll just regrow me lager gut in peace and quiet."

Lloyd shook his head in mild disbelief. "How can you even talk right now?"

"Wanker missed me lungs. Still, 'm feelin' a bit of a poppin' feelin' just sitting here gabbin' with ya. Hope I'm not bleedin' more 'cause of my goin' on."

Lloyd took a closer look at the blood-soaked aperture, forcing himself to subdue his gag reflex as he swore he saw a bit of regenerated muscle tissue come into form in the process. "Don't think I've got enough field experience to give ya a proper diagnosis. As for not checking on you, I already knew you were gonna pull through, codger. Sorry for puttin' ya through it all though."

"Nah. No worries, guv," Nigel said calmly. He made certain to lower his voice to a whisper before adding, "An'. . . an' don't you worry about the poppet either. She just needs some time to get 'erself away from all of this. Tough little bird, she is."

Lloyd didn't say a word, partly because he couldn't think of anything right to say and partly because he knew that Kara would be able to hear it.

Nigel, as one might expect, had no such qualms. "Well, guv. The gauntlet's been thrown. Now wot ya gonna do wit' it?"

The Black Dog gave Kara another lingering stare before turning away.

"I'll do what I have to," he simply replied. "It's what I always do."

Nigel nodded, although his beetle-black eyes couldn't hide his doubt.

"I truly hope so, guv."

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

"Yu difn't hat to hoof me, yu o."

Roy stole a moment away from looking at his cards to look upon his longtime partner, who, as far as he was concerned, was looking at him with an unnecessary degree of crossness. He noticed that Cecilia looked away from her own cards as well, although he strongly suspected that she was far more intrigued about what was about to transpire.

And he was never one to disappoint a young lady.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that, short pants," he said with a Cheshire cat grin. "You should try drawing out your stressed vowels. That's what Lian's tutor recommended when I was teaching her to read out loud. Come on, give it a shot."

Dick busied himself by flipping Roy off while he cleared his throat in order to prepare for another attempt to get his message across. The dry, gauzy bandaging around his tongue was making it rather difficult to speak but he had to admit that it beat having to be stitched up.

"I said. . . you didn't. . . have to shoot me. . . you know." Dick said with a great more clarity.

"Wellllll, you didn't have to go and get captured and hypnotized for the 42nd time like a little _bitch!"_ Roy countered, causing Arrowette to dribble a bit of diet soda to trick from her nose in the midst of her laughter. "Score! Nose overflow!" he shouted as he raised his arms in triumph and lifted his feet until he could plant his boots upon the kitchen table.

"Yes, such an advantageous accomplishment, Mister Harper," Alfred said irritably as he swept into the room. "And I will have you know that is a $1,200 dollar Venia kitchen table you happen to be perching your mud-caked boots upon so kindly remove them before I do so myself and take the feet with me."

"Jawohl, Mein Herr!" Roy shouted back, immediately meeting the caretaker's demands while slapping three cards down on the table. "Gimme three. How many do you want, Dickie?"

Grayson slapped down a pair of cards before sliding them across the table and receiving two new cards in exchange from the blonde-haired dealer. "And did you really haf to beat the 'ell out of me?" he asked as he rearranged his hand.

"Aw, come on! You're acting like that's the first time one of us beat the crap out of the other one for no reason. Remember back with The Outsiders and we broke each other's noses?"

"Yeah," Dick replied, albeit with much less fondness. "You starfed dat one hoo," he added, gnashing his teeth when he realized his throat had gone dry.

"Oh, I did not!" Roy shouted back. "You called me a washed-out druggie!"

"You know, this was another reason why I left Young Justice." Cissie interrupted as she laid one of her cards down on the table. "I just got so damn tired of having to deal with immature men with so much unfocused testosterone." She picked up the top card from the deck and examined it while doing her best to retain her poker face. "'Cause you just knew that push would eventually come to shove and they'd start wavin' their dicks at each other and that's not something I need to deal with in a professional working environment."

The observation made by Batman's current patrol partner left both male vigilantes in a state of prolonged and embarrassed silence. Fortunately, any subsequent attempts that either Richard or Roy had in mind of proving their masculinity were interrupted by a cheery rendition of Dani California as Stephanie tromped into the kitchen in search of her cherished turkey leg. To her credit, she at least had the presence of mind to give Roy a perplexed stare before casting her gaze upon the broken down state of the dining area. She then turned her attention to the atrium, which she soon discovered to be in a similar state of disrepair.

"What the hell! There was destruction!" Stephanie pointed out. "Destruction that I wasn't a part of!"

"How good of you to notice, Miss Stephanie," Alfred said flatly as he moved back to the atrium to clean up the accumulated mess.

"Holy shit, is that the sprout?" Roy asked as he rose up out of his chair. "Thought you were dead, Steffers!"

"Well, I thought you were a boozed up, mentally fractured nymphomaniac," Stephanie replied. "I guess it's good to know at least one of us has our wits about us."

"Fuck you, eggplant," Roy replied before sitting back down and taking a sip of his beer, a reaction that caused Stephanie to playfully stick out her tongue before taking a seat beside the former Outsider and Teen Titan.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Roy Boy," Stephanie said as she made an attempt to snatch Roy's drink from his hand. "I thought we had reached our quota tonight when it came to unexpected arrivals."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Cissie asked just before she received her answer. "HOLY SHIT!!"

Arrowette managed to barely win the race to get to Wally first, forcing Roy to settle for wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders while Cecilia all but latched herself to Flash's chest. Nightwing settled for slowly ambling his way towards the other unexpected arrival, a pleasant smile on his face all the while.

"What the hell are you doin' here, West?" Roy asked his still-dazed pal (of course, that state of confusion may very well have been brought about by the vigor behind the greetings of his colleagues).

"He's here to join The Misfits."

The Batman swept into the kitchen in full armor, a hostile and weary glare locked upon every aspect of disrepair within his domicile and all those who could have possibly been responsible for such a desecration. "And now you are all going to give me a detailed explanation of what has happened in my absence followed by Harper attempting explain why the hell he just happens to be here!"

"Dick got hypnotized again, knocked out Noah, stuffed him in a closet, and tried to kill the rest of us." Arrowette explained. "I saved the day though."

"The hell you did!" Roy shouted in protest. "Alfie would have been cut into ribbons if I hadn't have shot Dick and beat him unconscious."

"Which he didn't have to do!" Nightwing further clarified as best he could with cotton covering the tip of his tongue.

"And he shot up the floor doing it too!" Cissie added.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Batman roared, his patience worn well beyond any rational breaking point. He pointed one finger at Cecilia and another at Stephanie, who had somehow managed to break free from the tension and start munching on her turkey leg. "The both of you are helping Alfred clean this up and Harper is going to join you right after he tells me why he's here."

Roy, despite his frequently claims that he wasn't scared of The Dark Knight of Gotham, looked to be quite apprehensive with being asked to supply an answer to Batman's question.

"I, uh, wanted to see if I could still come and work with you," he said with as little meekness as he could muster. "Please?" he added in an almost submissive manner and what he hoped to be a winning smile.

The Batman continued to stare Roy down, the exhausted vigilante almost seeming to take pleasure in the sharpshooter's terror. No one, not even Stephanie or Wally, had the courage to try and bring an end to the bizarre display as it carried on for several more uncomfortable seconds.

"I'm too tired to deal with you right now," Bruce said through gritted teeth before turning away from the latest victim of his apparent quest to spread fear and superstition through the hearts and minds of well-intentioned, if not altogether bright, young crime fighters. "Alfred, prepare the necessary guest rooms," he ordered without even bothering to look at his beleaguered caretaker. as he stomped up the long stairwell leading to his sleeping quarters with even but fatigued movements.

The other denizens of Wayne Manor watched in silence as Bruce all but stomped up the long stairwell leading to his sleeping quarters. The combination of the detective's heavy boots and his fatigued stride produced a series of sliding stomps as he continued his climb.

"Well, then," Alfred began, his vast experience in the field of overcoming Bruce Wayne's temper tantrums enabling him to be the first to recover. "Miss Cecilia and Miss Stephanie can continue with the clean-up down here while I show our new guests to their rooms. I suppose I will have to prepare a third room as well for Miss Lian, Mister Harper?"

"I think you'll have to make that four, Mister Pennyworth."

The residents of Wayne Manor, in order to take a glance at the other three arrivals, all turned their attention back towards the grandfather clock that hid the passageway to The Batcave. Two of the new guests, as astonishing as it may seem, were still asleep despite the uproar that had taken place. The unlikely occurrence was quite the blessing, particularly for the third guest, who had a great deal of experience in having to defuse the chaos that came with the interruption of the sleeping patterns of her children.

She was certainly an attractive woman, her coffee-colored skin and almond-shaped brown eyes strong symbols of her Korean heritage. Her present serenity in the midst of the previous chaos made it rather obvious that she had a great deal of experience in handling troubling and potentially stressful situations, a character trait that had aided her immensely over the course of her personal life and professional career. The slumbering toddlers, despite being fraternal twins, looked dramatically different from one another, the boy having acquired her mother's skin tone and hair color while the daughter had inherited her father's red hair and fair skin.

"My husband and I have to at least try to have some sense of privacy," explained Linda Park.

* * *

"Your decision to take the battle into The Speed Force was a grave miscalculation."

"You asked me to keep Batman's little Green Lantern off your back and I _did_," Zoom bit back angrily, his decision to defend his past actions serving as a significant risk to his imminent safety.

"What you _did_," Vincent parroted as the two of them continued to walk down the long passageway, "was allow The Batman to gain access to a potentially dangerous ally."

"I've shattered West before," Zolomon said sternly. "If it is necessary, I shall do so again."

The Silver Coyote merely chose to let out a hum, a clear sign that he neither agreed nor disagreed with the veracity of his colleague's claim. "So I see Miss Brown gave you more trouble than you had anticipated."

Zoom nodded. "I'm telling you right now. That one is going to be trouble; maybe just as much as the Kryptonian and your old war buddy."

"Miss Brown's development is quite impressive," Vincent admitted. "Still, we all have our weaknesses. And, when the time comes, I believe I know someone who will be more than happy to exploit them to our advantage."

The two partners came to a stop in front of the door that served as the entrance to their present destination. The solid, oak double doors did little to muffle the sounds of shattering glass, wood being reduced to splinters from crashing against cement walls and profanity-laced death threats that ranged from being morbidly amusing to outright vile.

"Well," Vincent said rather calmly as he took hold of one of the door knobs, "let's see how our other colleague is faring from his endeavors."

"Let's," Zolomon agreed with equal serenity while taking hold of the other door.

The two murderers swung the door open to reveal a tempest of noisy destruction amidst what was once a posh room. In the center of all the bloodless carnage stood a diminutive fellow with scraggly black hair made even more unkempt by his recent frenzied activities. The little man's voice was normally a shrill tenor with a hint of a Bostonian accent although his enraged screaming had made it a bit more hoarse than usual.

"Drugged out, nymphomaniac Green Arrow wannabe!" screamed Edgar Cizko, the misogynistic, schizophrenic telepath more commonly known as Doctor Psycho. "How dare that little poodle fucker think he got the better of me! The next time I see him I'll make him eat his own daughter's intestines! I'll kill all the little bastards and sell their hearts and lungs to a Korowaian breakfast buffet!"

"Settle down, Doctor," Vincent suggested, employing his own telepathy to aid in the process. "None of us anticipated that Mister Harper would decide to make a surprise appearance."

Cizko, who had been responsible for aiding The Silver Coyote in proliferating the power of the Mensobous Luminitas to his unwilling army, wasn't quite ready to let everything go. "I had Nightwing right in the palm of my hand, Vincent. I could have killed him a thousand times over and still not have gotten even remotely bored with it!"

"But you fulfilled your primary objective," Vincent said almost soothingly. "Your invasion of Mister Grayson's mind allowed us to gain full knowledge of Batman's defensive measures. That information, in turn, will allow us to have a better idea of what we will require to succeed in acquiring the power and prestige that each of us deserve."

"Yeah, that's just fine and peachy," Psycho said irritably. "I'll let you handle that. Just let me know when I can eat the stinking meat off the bones of the good guys."

"I don't think there's any reason to become dissuaded," Zolomon threw in.

"Indeed," Vincent added. "By the time the world's so-called heroes realize what we have in store for them, I imagine that they'll be nice and tender for whatever you have in store for them."

Doctor Psycho smiled, a truly terrifying sight if there ever was one.

"Well, that just makes me feel all tingly."

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

Wow. Fifty chapters. Fifty exceedingly long chapters, eight arcs, and 1 ½ full-length novels.

You know, I had always _intended _for me to be writing this series until this point. Of course, I had also _intended_ to still be writing a lot more of my aborted attempts at fanfiction and overall creativity. Now that I've gotten to this point it makes me wonder why this little endeavor is still going on while so many of my other uncompleted works fell by the wayside. Was it just a part of growing up and recognizing that you usually have to fail before you can succeed or was this just the right placement of circumstances that all creative endeavors require to become what they are?

All right, I'm done pretending to be serious. Or pretending that my writing deserves such serious contemplations. It's just a story about a cranky vigilante and all the moderately insane people he's brought into his house, after all.

Thanks for being along for the ride, my faithful readers and reviewers! To Ryan, Shawn, Rachel, Wolvmbm, Protector of Canon2, Andrew Joshua Talon, Shatterfirst and all those in between, thank you very much for your input and encouragement. I may be the conductor of this little crazy train but it's all of you that provide the fuel. And don't worry, this train hasn't even gotten close to the last station.

Speaking of which. . .

* * *

Issue #51 Preview 

Well, Batman appears to be running quite the Halfway House for Superheroes now, isn't he? Now he's got three little rugrats, two former Teen Titans, and a former media dynamo all taking up space within his humble abode. Of course, life at 1007 Mountain Drive is not necessarily all sunshine and _Full House_ reruns, particularly when a hit is put on one of the home's inhabitants while another occupant displays their frustration with the living arrangements. The spotlight shines on the two newest members of the team in our story's eighth arc, _Modus Operandi_, starting with the next installment of The Misfits: The Trouble with Transitions. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	51. The Trouble with Transitions

Issue #51

The Trouble with Transitions

Alfred Pennyworth had precious little experience when it came to having someone observe the way he went about making breakfast. It was a circumstance that was hardly of his own making, seeing as how the vast majority of the previous partakers of his culinary talents were either more interested in consuming the final results of his efforts or appeared to have no interest in his endeavors at all. However, despite the threat of failure that can be brought along with novelty, the old man couldn't help but be charmed by the situation at hand.

Of course, the warmth and curiosity of his particular company didn't hurt either.

Lian Harper had planted her knees on one of the chairs that stood alongside the tall credenza that separated the kitchen from the main table, a gesture that Alfred had assumed to be a ways and means of taking a closer look at what would soon be on the menu. A young lady that was quickly approaching her tenth birthday, the daughter of Roy Harper and Jade Nguyen was what he considered to be a more than acceptable jumble of the most pleasant features of her parentage. Her rich, black hair and strikingly copper-colored skin tone, a combination that she had doubtlessly inherited from her mother, would no doubt cause her father a great many headaches when the young lady came of the age when young suitors would be calling. On the other hand, the mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes and the equally roguish twist that occasionally worked its way into her bright smile were clear indications that, as far as attitude was concerned, Lian was truly her father's daughter.

The girl's cheery countenance was just another reminder to Alfred of how life had changed over the course of the last two years, when he had all but pleaded to Bruce to do what he could to make Wayne Manor into a home once again. The request had been his own way of helping to fulfill the wishes that dear Martha and Thomas would have no doubt had for their son. Of course, past experiences had taught him well enough to avoid raising his expectations too high but he would have never expected that it would have all come to this. What had once been a too-quiet sanctuary for a pair of weathered veterans of the fight had grown into a bustling havoc containing fourteen occupants, each of them bringing their own energy, troubles, and life into the long-lonely halls.

Of course, not everything was as charming and supposedly idyllic as it could have been. He knew that the necessary stresses that came with fighting a war would doubtlessly always be present here. From a personal standpoint, there was also his endless addressing of the fact that some of these residents, as far as he was concerned, did not quite hold up their share of the increased household duties. However, the simple fact that remained is that the former Interpol agent was pleased with the way things were going, so much so that he had no difficult at all in playing his part with an unforced smile.

The old man's contemplations remained active as three more of the newer occupants made their way into the dining area. Linda Park was in the lead, looking professional and quite resplendent in a modest white blouse covered by a black business suit. The twins were toddling behind her like ducklings; their bumbling gaits and ruffled pajamas a stark contrast to the composed movements and refined attire of their mother.

"Good morning, Miss Park," Alfred greeted her as Lian joined him in turning to address the new arrivals. "I hoped you slept well on the eve of your latest endeavor."

Linda smiled in response as she approached the credenza, playfully ruffling Lian's hair as she took her own round of perusing the butler's culinary efforts. "You would be better off asking them, Alfred," she replied, indicating the two little ones toddling their way toward the kitchen table. "After all, they've had complete control over my sleeping patterns for. . ." she paused to check her watch, "a little over two years now."

Alfred chuckled as he lifted a sizzling skillet off of the stove so that the bacon wouldn't be overcooked. "Well, judging from your amiable temperament, I'd say that you seem to be ready for the task at hand."

"Well, don't let the outward appearance fool you, Alfred." Linda made her way to the bread box as she made her denial. "I'm in the process of trying to look competent and confident enough to work at an esteemed institute of journalistic integrity after spending two years changing diapers and having conversations that mostly consist of nonsensical, monosyllabic utterances." She paused after placing a bagel into the toaster to turn to Alfred directly. "How am I doing so far?"

"Quite well," Alfred replied. "And I've already got the childrens' cups at the ready."

"You are a gift from God," Linda declared as she slid past Alfred to claim the necessary equipment. As the butler had guessed, she was decidedly more gentle when it came time to playfully lift Jai into her arms while little Iris busied herself by attempted to clamber up her booster seat. "All right, you two," she said as she placed Jai into his seat while simultaneously blocking her other child from what would have been a potentially hazardous situation. "Do you want to drink milk or juice?"

Alfred chuckled as Linda received two different replies. _Of course_ they were different replies. He shook his head as the mildly beleaguered young mother made certain to get the little ones safely into their chairs before moving to field their orders. "Are you certain there isn't anything more I can do for you before your interview with the Times?" he asked.

Linda waved the offer aside before picking up the gallon jugs of milk and orange juice. "There's no need to worry about me. The interview shouldn't be any problem. Truth be told, I'm more concerned about leaving these two behind. I mean, I know that I have to do it sometime and I know I've been talking about restarting my career but. . ."

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Alfred interrupted. "Besides, I am certain that you will manage to find someone in this household who will be more than happy to watch over them."

Timing once again served in Alfred's behavior as the dining area was assaulted by a burst of noisy arguing followed by the appearance of a familiar pair of quarreling 18-year-olds.

"You're making things too complicated," Stephanie explained as she shook the Styrofoam cup in her hand to emphasize her argument. "If the different types of coffee are roughly the same price at the counter then you're better off going with the types of beans that are cheaper to produce and ship!"

"That doesn't make any sense!" Cissie fired back as she took a subtle sidestep to avoid any possibility of being burned by some stray spray from her friend's cup of designer black coffee. "A giant, corporate-run coffee house is going to be looking for profit margin first! If you're going to pay three bucks for a frappuccino then you might as well get the good stuff."

Alfred and Lian had both paused to observe the goings on with a mild hint of interest. Linda had done so as well but had been fortunate enough to quickly break away and get back to assisting her children.

"Look, hermana. It's all a matter of economics. Lower costs mean greater demand. Greater demand means that the seed growers will go to extra lengths to make their product more appealing to the corporations that are going to buy it. _That's _why you're better off going with the more common types of coffee because you never know what you're going to get with the fancier types. Ooh! Pancake batter. YOW!!"

Stephanie quickly pulled back her free hand after Alfred had used his trusty wooden ladle to repel her attempt to sneak a taste of the oddly appetizing treat. The butler quickly prevented any chance of a second attempt by snatching the bowl away.

"I am truly sorry, Miss Stephanie," Alfred said as he turned his back to the others in order to pour healthy dollops of the batter onto a nearby skillet, "but you have lived here long enough to know that any breakfast made in this household will always be first available to those who are patient enough to wait, not for those who choose to waste their time and money by traveling to some shoddy, corporate-spawned coffeehouse."

Stephanie gave a cross look to Alfred's back as she placed her cup of coffee down on the credenza. She then turned her attention to Lian, who was giving her quite the wicked grin as she happily munched on a strip of bacon. The Green Lantern gave the daughter of Roy Harper a threatening glare.

Lian responded by giving out a sigh of contentment before polishing up the last of the bacon and picking up another strip.

"You're lucky I like you, peanut," Stephanie proclaimed before giving in and moving to take her usual spot at the kitchen table. "And how are my favorite little people this morning? Iris, can I have some of your orange juice?"

"Nuh uh," the little redhead replied. She emphasized her bold declaration by drawing her stubby arms and hands in closer to her body in order to keep her precious cup safe. "My juice."

Linda, despite keeping one eye on the newspaper, couldn't help but smile as Stephanie put on the appearance of someone who had been profoundly rebuffed.

"Iris! How could you be so mean?" the young woman asked with an enormous frown as she moved to tickle the little girl behind her ears. "How could you be so meeeeeeean?" she asked again with even more playfulness as Iris began to cheerfully burble with giggles.

"Okay then," Cissie said with a bit of a huff. "With that I think I've observed enough disgusting cuteness for the day."

"Oh, come on, sharpshooter," Stephanie wheedled as she turned her lighthearted attentions toward Jai. "How can you even deny the adorability of these two? That's just heartless!"

"Steph," Cissie began, "I've seen plenty of small children, I've had many opportunities to see what they're capable of bringing to the table and, try as I might, I fail to see the appeal. No offense, Miss Park."

"None taken," Linda replied as she finished spreading a modest amount of cream cheese on her bagel.

"Well, Miss Cecilia, if you're not busy then perhaps I could ask you to summon the others," Alfred asked. "I'm almost ready here."

"Fine by me," Cissie answered as she snatched up a piece of bacon for herself before making her way out of the kitchen. "They should just be getting wrapped up with the morning briefing."

* * *

_The Batcave_

Contrary to what one may have been led to believe, the cavalcade of rebels and troublemakers that had come to be known as The Misfits were not merely limited to the many unusual individuals that now inhabited Wayne Manor. As a matter of fact, there was one key member of the team who had not participated in an active field mission or even set foot in Wayne Manor for nearly a year. However, despite his seeming inactivity, the assistance that this participant had provided has proven to be invaluable in the group's mission to keep their activities well-shadowed not only from national or global law enforcement agencies but also from other teams of so-called superheroes. As one can imagine, such a burden would be difficult for any one individual to bear.

Of course, if Batman had ever thought that J'onn J'onzz wasn't up for the task, he certainly wouldn't have offered him the role.

"None of the Justice League's affiliates have been able to pick up any trace of The Silver Coyote's whereabouts," proclaimed the creature known to the world as Martian Manhunter. "I am afraid that whatever methods that he, Zoom, and Doctor Psycho are using to conceal themselves goes beyond our abilities to detect them."

"I'm afraid that we haven't been able to pick up any trace of them either," Noah admitted from his usual seat in front of the main monitor. "Of course, that hardly means that we should not continue to make efforts to force their hand. After all, I would like to avoid being knocked unconscious and stuffed into a closet from here on in."

"I still say 'e hasn't shown all his cards," Lloyd added.

"I am inclined to agree," said J'onn. "Judging from what all of you have been able to determine considering the extent of Vincent's resources, he still does not have enough equipment or manpower to take on our combined forces. The addition of the White Martians imprisoned within The Phantom Zone, as distressing as that may be, is nothing we haven't been able to overcome before."

"An' the fact that we got the projector ray back from Brainiac means they can't go diggin' back into that well again," added Lloyd.

"Well, all our _accomplishments_ aside," broke in Bruce Wayne with an irritated grumble, "the fact of the matter is that we let ourselves get lazy. Their first salvo should have crippled us and the only reason it didn't do so was because of a phenomenal amount of luck. Now I don't know about the rest of you but I have little tolerance relying on good fortune the next time they make a move."

"Now, now, B-Man. Don't go disregarding the power of good fortune. I could personally use more of it the next time I hit the blackjack table."

The four active participants of the morning briefing all turned their attention towards Roy Harper with varying degrees of amusement or irritation. The former Checkmate and FBI agent dismissed each of the individual receptions with ease as he continued to make his way forward.

"Say, what's the pressure release output for this zipline of yours?" Roy asked as he casually spun the grappling gun in his right hand with the grace of a skilled gunfighter.

"Eight-thousand pounds per square inch," Bruce answered.

"Hell of a kick," Arsenal pointed out.

"The weight release provided by the carbon dioxide and the durability of the synthesized drilling head helps reduce the recall potentiality."

"Sweet."

Roy made his way back to the armory without another word.

"I still say the best way to confront this is by going after the people that Vincent might still be lookin' to get in touch with," Lloyd said.

"It is true that he will eventually have to make his way onto a more open battleground," J'onn admitted. "However, I also believe that placing undue efforts in examining Vincent's potential interests may allow him to choose the next battleground as well, a situation that could very well lead to an enormous amount of civilian casualties."

"Which means that our best option is to learn more about what they plan on doing, more about them, more about who they plan to recruit, and more about who is already working for them that we haven't found out about," Bruce broke in before turning to Lloyd. "Which means we need the defensive measures that your insider said that they could provide for us."

"That shouldn't take much time at all," Lloyd replied. "She says it'll take some creative paperwork but she should be able to get what we need in the next few days."

"Once again, I would like to examine the equipment before the rest of you take it out with you to the field," said Noah. "Not that I'm suspicious about the intentions of our benefactor but. . . well, I suppose it is because I'm suspicious about the intentions of our benefactor."

"You'll be the first person that touches them, Calculator," Bruce assured his longtime friend. "I've lost the inclination to take any more unnecessary chances."

"I don't know. I've always thought that pointless and unnecessary risk taking was one of the perks of having a career as a lifelong do-gooder."

Bruce, J'onn, Lloyd, and Noah shifted their attentions, once again, to Roy Harper. He was still holding the grappling gun in his right hand but now his left hand was occupied with a pistol, which he presented to his new boss.

"Is this the new customized Springfield Armory XD? The one retrofitted to fire the new Respiridone darts?"

"Indeed it is," Bruce replied. "Nightwing informed me that it's become your preferred weapon of choice."

Roy presented The Dark Knight with an almost giddy grin. "Where do you get these wonderful toys?"

J'onn's chuckling could be heard even from the scant amount of interference caused by the Watchtower's transmission system. "I must say, Bruce. You're displaying a remarkable amount of patience considering the situation at hand."

Bruce grumbled as he took note of Lloyd and Noah's nearly identical smirks. "I'm choosing to ignore Mister Harper's existing idiotic behavior in lieu of what he may be capable of bringing to the table."

"And there's the fact that I saved his house from being turned into fine-quality matchsticks," Arsenal added.

Bruce turned towards his seditious compatriot, the "Bat glare" now at maximum capacity.

"Harper," he growled.

"I should shut up now?"

"If not sooner."

"Righty-o," Harper replied as he returned to the armory. While he was making his exit, Cecilia was just making her entrance. Both J'onn and Lloyd spotted her well before her even strides came to a stop, the former giving her a welcoming smile.

"Good morning, Miss King-Jones. I have to thank you once again for allowing me to borrow your copy of _On the Road_. I had almost forgotten the emotional efficacy of Kerouac's prose and presentation."

Arrowette politely accepted the gratitude with a humble nod. "No need to thank me, J'onn. In fact, you should probably thank the Elias school library 'cause that's where I stole the book from."

"Ah, I see," J'onn said. "Well, perhaps I should refrain from extending my thanks to that particular avenue."

"That'd be nice," Cissie replied.

"Fancied yourself to be a wanderer of the highways, Cis?" asked Lloyd.

"A little bit, I guess," Cissie admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "Of course, then I had to go and pick a career where the only road trips I take are to places where somebody is trying to kill me, you guys, or everybody else."

"Perhaps it would be wise for your supervisor to provide a bit of travel time for you and the rest of your fellow subordinates," J'onn pointed out.

Bruce gave a cross image to the smirking image on the main monitor. "I'll consider that once we don't have somebody out to kill every one of us."

Cissie and Lloyd almost gave out identical sighs, a sure sign that their vocal consternation was just a wee bit forced. "Told ya to look into the fine print for you signed on the dotted line, luv," The Black Dog said with a grin.

Arrowette nodded in agreement. "Well, fictional contract negotiations aside, Alfred sent me down here to tell you that breakfast is ready so it may be time to wrap it up."

"I see no reason to further prolong the briefing," J'onn replied. "I will continue to investigate the matter of The Silver Coyote's whereabouts as ordered."

"And be certain to contact us first if you access any new information," Bruce reminded his stoic collaborator.

"Of course. Martian Manhunter out."

The cloaked audiovisual feed from The Watchtower was cut immediately, resulting in a brief showcasing of static by the main monitor before Bruce cut the power to the screen with the push of a button. "Well, that is all that needs to be covered as of now. Black Dog and Calculator will be in charge of distributing tonight's patrol instructions as per usual. The meeting is adjourned."

"Sounds good to me," Noah said as he rose up from his own seat and began a hasty stroll up into Wayne Manor proper. "Not that I do not appreciate your company but I believe that there is a blueberry scone with my figurative name on it."

Bruce hid a grin before moving to join his old friend. However, before he could do so, he was cut off by The Black Dog. The detective would have normally told the young man to walk and talk but the concerned glimmer in Lloyd's eyes told him to stay put.

"Boss, I know you wanted me to try and 'andle this on my end," the Brit said with a bit of a whisper, "but I think it'd be better if you took a stab at it before I try again."

"Very well," the older man relented. "I'll make certain to speak with her before tonight's patrols."

Bruce had little trouble noticing the flash of reluctance on the face of his second-in-command before he ultimately nodded in thanks and teleported away, presumably to fetch some sustenance of his own.

"Thought you didn't want to get involved with our team's little romantic subplot," Cissie said as she slid her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans.

"You're absolutely right," Bruce replied as he matched his patrol partner step-for-step. "However, if this burgeoning soap opera is going to interfere with our work then I have to do what I can to prevent that from happening."

Cissie tilted her head to one side in order to display her reluctance. "Well, just so long as you get some sleep, pard. The last thing I need is you falling asleep at the wheel of The Batmobile."

"I think I'll be all right," Bruce said almost casually. "As a matter of fact, I supposed you wouldn't be interested in a friendly sparring session? After all, you did tell me that you wanted to brush up on your Aikido."

Cecilia quickly waved the offer aside. "No way, boss man. If I've got some free time then I'm going to do something with it that doesn't involve risking my personal health."

"Good luck with that," Bruce replied as they reached the top of the staircase.

"Ah, I'm sure I can find something."

Fortunately for the young vigilante, a possible opportunity presented itself as Roy jogged towards them, the enthusiasm on his face putting any kid that had ever journeyed into a candy store to shame.

"Damn, Cis! You gotta check this out. This body armor's got that new synthetic plating that's supposed to fully deflect a shotgun blast from a range of 15 feet. Want to help me test it?"

Cissie had no trouble hearing Bruce's frustrated sigh while she quickly reviewed her options.

"Two o'clock sound good?" Cissie asked.

"Very well," Bruce answered as he slid the Wayne family grandfather clock aside. "I trust you're staying down here, Harper? I'll make certain that Alfred brings you some food."

"Thanks a bunch, Wayne," Roy shouted back as he made another return into his new playground.

* * *

_5.2 kilometers north-northeast of Fort Nelson, province of British Columbia_

The Flash made another fruitless attempt to momentarily scatter his troubling thoughts. The rays of the early morning sun mixed with the heavy cloud formations to produce an almost ethereal consortium of colors in the western sky. He wanted the magnificent sight to remind him of The Speed Force but the biting cold of the accompanying winter winds provided him with frequent reminders of the fact that he was now a long way away from what had become a place of contentment.

He knew he should have been there for Linda when she woke up, just as he should have known that his life in the alternate dimension would not last forever. However, this active knowledge only served to snap at his senses, giving him another regret to place on top of a growing pile of compunctions. It also reminded him of the single most troubling bit of knowledge that he was currently forced to grapple with.

He, Wally West, The Fastest Man Alive, had allowed life to run past him once again.

Barry had always told him that he had to keep moving forward, not only in life but also in the way he looked at it. Like many of the lessons his uncle had been kind enough to teach to him, it was another adage that, though helpful, was often a pain to carry out.

He wanted to be able to move forward. He wanted to be the jovial prankster that so many had expected him to be. He wanted to be better.

He just didn't know how to go about it.

"Starsky, this is Hutch. Starsky, this is Hutch. Come in, feathered hair."

And the voice ringing over his transmitter just served as a clear reminder of the many things that his life had just decided to throw at him.

"I'm here, Nightwing."

Richard Grayson gave out a merry laugh. "We missed you at the breakfast table today, man. Where've you been hidin'?"

Wally would have normally been happy to hear the jovial tone in Dick's voice. It was a sound that was so far removed from what he had grown used to hearing from him: the cold, almost monotone orders and warnings that had seemed to constitute Dick's entire conversational arsenal after Donna had been taken from all of them. He knew that the person who had been the best man at his wedding had gone through a great deal in the past several years, just as he wanted to be happy with the fact that he could see life and energy back in his friend's eyes.

But then he'd have to remember that his friend had found that happiness within the company of killers, within the same circle that his wife was apparently quite willing to become a part of. He would have been blind not to notice how quickly Jai and Iris had taken to the many occupants of Wayne Manor and each of those touching moments reminded him of how painful it would be when he finally had to say that they couldn't possibly stay there. In fact, nearly every bit of information he had received in the past two weeks, no matter how it had been delivered, seemed to only remind him of what a horrible mistake he was making.

And why did he even do it? So he could meet the need of somebody else's sentiments?

_I'm tired of paying the penalty for somebody else's designs_, he thought gloomily.

"How did the morning briefing go?" Wally was pretty sure that his all-business tone wouldn't be enough to get Nightwing off his back but it was the best response he could muster. "Did I miss anything important?"

"Nothing you didn't already know about if what B.D. told me is true," Dick replied, his tone significantly more casual. "I had to get out of there early 'cause I was tired of answering Arsenal's questions about the contents of the armory. I still can't figure out why Batman hasn't knocked him unconscious, stuffed him in a closet, and told L that he went on a long beer run."

Once again, the best that Wally could manage was a low chuckle. It occurred to him that he would have used to laugh a lot longer.

This time, though, he got called on it.

"Flash, I know the last couple weeks have been a bit of a shell shock," Nightwing confessed, his voice soft and stable, "I mean, I know you can't have imagined that you'd be getting yourself into something like this. That being said, I really believe that the world needs something like this, something like us, and we'd love to have you as a part of it."

"Even The Calculator?" Wally bit back angrily. "You know he used to be part of The Rogues!"

"Oh yeah," Nightwing snorted. "I bet he was a real big threat."

Wally sighed as Dick's mumbled reply was almost immediately followed by an offended round of complaining that doubtlessly came from the team's resident hacker.

"Ah! You know I love ya, C.C.! And yes, Flash, even him. And, as immature as we tend to be, I like to think that most of us have grown comfortable with the fact that it's not smart to go through the tough stuff in life alone."

"Meaning?" Wally asked as he rubbed his left thumb and ring finger against the bridge of his nose.

"Talk to us, buddy. See what we're all about and then decide. That's all I'm asking."

The slight crackle from his communicator told Wally that his friend had cut the transmission right then and there. He was tempted to fire the comm. link back up again, if only to chastise his old friend for his presumptuousness, but ultimately realized that, just as Dick had deduced, he needed some time to think. He also recognized the fact that he had some questions that needed answering.

But he didn't think that he could get those answers from anybody in Wayne Manor. And, as he sped his way south, The Fastest Man Alive decided that it was time to find somebody who could.

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

"I am so stupid."

"You are not stupid."

"No, I am the Queen of Stupid. I am the Undisputed Champion of Cleverlessness. I am the reigning monarch of the Sovereignty of Stupidville!"

Bruce shook his head with a surprising degree of levity. "Arrowette, I have to disagree. As a matter of fact, I believe you are a sharp and capable young woman."

Cissie gave her partner a glare ripe with skepticism. "Well, if I'm so smart then why did I think it was a good idea to train with you when I didn't have to?! I would have been better off wrestling a grizzly!"

"You did just fine, Cecilia," Bruce said again as presented Cissie with a purple cushion he had picked up while making his way out of the training room. "Here, take the Geltex so you can have a seat. I'll have Alfred draw you a hot bath."

"NO!" Cissie all but screeched. "I do not need The Butt Donut. I am an accomplished archer and martial artist and I refuse to use that silly ass thing just because you think I need it to sit down! You may have beaten the stuffing out of me but I still have my pride, damn it!"

To prove her point, Arrowette dropped herself down on a chair. Her defiant gesture was punctuated by a fiery glare as she crossed her slim, muscular arms over her chest, a sharp contrast to the relaxed, comfortable posture that the older man gave to her in return. It only took a second for the inevitable to occur; causing Cissie's intersected arms to cinch up and her bottom lip to stick out.

Bruce casually tossed the Geltex to his partner, who somehow managed to overcome her current agony and catch it with a free hand. She slowly rose back up so she could place the cushion down on the chair.

"I hate you," Cissie added morosely as she sat back down.

The bizarrely companionable moment was soon broken with the sound of footsteps approaching the ground floor den. Bruce and Cissie both turned to see Kara shuffling into the room, her disheveled blonde hair a clear sign that she had just awakened from the late sleep that each of The Misfits had long grown accustomed to.

"Hey, Kare Bear," Cissie said in greeting. "You get a good day's sleep?"

Kara's nod was slight but still perceptible. "I guess so."

"Is there something that we can help you with?" asked Bruce.

"Uh, yeah," Kara replied. "But, um, is it okay if I speak with just Mister Wayne? I mean. . . no offense, Cissie but. . ."

Cecilia was already well on her way to standing. "No worries, girl. As a matter of fact, all I'm looking for right now is a nice, hot bath and a cat nap, specifically in that order."

"Don't forget the Geltex," Bruce reminded Cecilia as she was making her way out of the room.

"I don't need The Butt Donut!" Cissie yelled back as she made her exit.

Bruce gave off a weary sigh as he took a seat on the chair sitting across from the one that Cissie had tried and failed to sit comfortably. "Lloyd asked me to speak with you once again about what happened at The Monster Farm." The faltering glance Kara gave to him was a clear indication that he could have just made a critical error in judgment. However, the detective knew enough about the alien's nature to realize that it was also a necessary step if he wanted to get the job done.

"I kinda figured that," Kara said softly. "Look, I know that you guys are concerned but I've been keeping my patrols and doing what I need to do. I asked Lloyd to give me some time alone and I hope that's what I can ask of you."

"I see," Bruce replied as he leaned forward. "Kara, let me make one thing perfectly clear right here and now. I may have agreed with your proposal to refrain from telling Lloyd about what happened between you and Vincent but I will not allow your poor attempts at emotional management to jeopardize the safety of the unit."

"Look, I told you that I can handle it!" There was a great deal more volume and anger in Kara's response this time. "It's not like he raped me or. . ."

"You underwent a very traumatic experience, Kara, an incident that you're unconsciously blaming on my second-in-command and has, in turn, caused him to believe that as well," Bruce interrupted. "I allowed the two of you, against my better judgment, to pursue a relationship because Richard and Stephanie convinced me that it would be better for the team as a whole. That being said, I have no desire to put anyone else in this household in danger because the two of you can't keep your focus. Now you need to convince me that my best option isn't to go directly to Lloyd and tell him the whole truth."

"What do you want me to do?!" There was a hint of crimson in Kara's normally crystalline pupils.

Bruce's eyes, however, remained calm and unwavering.

"I don't want to lose either of you," he said gently. "Kara, I have a long track record when it comes to keeping a secret from someone for so long until it's no longer possible to move forward. Once you begin concealing things like these from the people who come to care about you then you're going to find a reason to hide the smaller things until you can't even believe yourself. You need to talk to him and tell him the truth."

Kara turned away from Bruce, giving out a noisy exhalation of breath as she did so. Her slow steps ultimately led her to a window, allowing her body to momentarily bathe in the afternoon sunlight.

"There's another way you can help me, Mister Wayne."

"And how would that come about?" Bruce asked, absolutely unconvinced.

Kara pressed her hand against the windowpane, a decision that would doubtlessly have drawn the ire of Alfred had he been there to witness it.

"I've spent almost two years here. A lot of those days have been spent training to become stronger, smarter, and faster than what I was and a big reason why I kept doing it was because I thought if I kept on training I could make it so that nobody would be able to hurt me."

The half-Kryptonian turned towards Bruce once again. She managed to catch the look of concern in the eyes of the detective but it didn't deter her in the least.

"My fight with Vincent reminded me that there's still a lot more I need to learn and I want you to teach me."

* * *

_Central City_

_This was home_.

There wasn't a lot of things that Wally could be certain of but this was one of them. He didn't belong in Gotham City living in some hoity-toity mansion. This was where he wanted to be and this is where he wanted to raise his family. It was a precious certainty that he needed to have with him in the midst of all his present confusion. It gave him something he could shoot for.

And the man he came to see was sure to convince him of the truth behind the sentiment.

Of course, he did seem to be a bit preoccupied, judging from the sheer number of people clustered around him. The group was a hodgepodge of police officers, news reporters, and regular citizens, all of which seemed to be looking to either thank the man for his efforts or to ask him about the events leading to his timely (and most certainly hasty) arrival. The gentleman took all of the emotion and havoc in stride with the patience and character of a man who had literally spent decades of experience of enduring all the noise and frenzy. However, as cool and collected as Jay Garrick appeared to be, Wally noticed that when he made his presence felt with the help of a speed burst and the clearing of his throat, the old man couldn't help but be surprised.

"Wally?" he asked incredulously.

"Hey, Jay. I was looking to see if we could go somewhere and talk."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Like many comic book aficionados, I took some time off from my actual life to see how my more nerd-inclined peers responded to Joe Quesada's _One More Day_. I expected to see a great deal of bitching and whining but I was simply unprepared for the amount of vitriol I was to witness as I perused a smattering of message boards. Of course, this wasn't to say that the arc wasn't an atrocious little number that could potentially retcon 25 years worth of Spider-Man stories and ultimately involved Marvel's greatest mainstream hero making a deal with an actual devil (still not certain how that is supposed to draw in new readers).

Suffice it to say, unlike what I saw from the words of other comic book fans, I think I'll be able to live with it. A trip to the bookstore and a read through of J. Michael Straczynski's _Unintended Consequences_ reminded me of how a good writer can inspire other writers to think outside the box and I thank him for writing some great Spider-Man stories. Yes, I made certain to include the hyphen, JMS.

Okay, I'm officially off my soap box now. Thanks for the reads and the reviews as always and, as a belated gift for New Year's, here's the preview for the next chapter.

* * *

Issue #52 Preview

There may be troubles at Wayne Manor but that still doesn't mean that The Misfits can't have a little fun. Wally may be busy talking with Jay Garrick and Noah may have a stick up his ass but that won't stop the rest of the boys from having a night on the town (and don't think that the ladies won't follow suit). Also, how will The Dark Knight respond to Kara's request? How will Vincent's cohorts try to rain on the parade? Will Cissie remember her butt donut? Find out in the next installment of The Misfits: Sources for Entertainment. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	52. Sources for Entertainment

Issue #52

Sources for Entertainment

_Dagwood's Cafe_

Jay Garrick was never meant to be a part of this world.

His original home was Earth-2, the now-extinguished plane of reality that had also been home to heroes such as Kal-L, Alan Scott, and Ted Grant before the rampant path of destruction lain by The Anti-Monitor forced him into the dimension that both he and Wally now called home. He had acquired his phenomenal speed just before the start of the Second World War, when the inhalation of heavy water vapors activated his so-called metagene which allowed him to move at incredible speeds even without the aid of the bizarre energy provided by The Speed Force. Nearly 70 years had passed since the birth of the original Flash but now, despite being 91 years of age, the old man was still well entrenched in active field operations, thanks in no small part to a series of accidental anti-aging treatments that had reduced his physical aging by a good four decades. In fact, there are quite a few of Garrick's peers that would consider his schedule to be even more demanding than those of so-called modern superheroes.

He maintains his place as a founding member of The Justice Society of America, a position that allows him the opportunity to teach the heroes of both today and tomorrow with the many lessons he has endured and learned in his past. He serves as a father figure and role model to a wide variety of those who wish to use the powers that birth or fate had imbued them with to defend others. However, the one duty of Garrick's that was at the forefront of Wally's mind was that of his role as guardian of Central City. It was a role that, before the nightmare in Metropolis with Bart and Zolomon, belonged to him.

And Wally wanted it back.

But, apparently, Jay never got the memo of how important it was to him.

"You know, I think I remember this same little café being here back in Keystone City," Jay reminisced before taking a bite of his ham and cheese omelet. "Same tile floors, same street corner, even the pictures mounted up on the walls," the old man swept his extended arm across his chest, a gesture to the parade of black-and-white snapshots that festooned the surrounding walls, before brushing off the contemplation with another wave of his wrinkled left hand. "Ah, maybe I'm just thinking too much. After all, there's no use sweatin' the small stuff, especially when you get to be my age."

Wally looked up from his half-eaten plate of pancakes and took in the scenario as well. Unlike his quasi-predecessor, who seemed far more interested in making small talk, the younger man embraced the cleanliness and old-time familiarity with as much energy as he could muster. To him it served as a firm remainder, a recognition of how much. . . _cleaner_ his home was in comparison to Gotham. His eyes did their best to soak in the light and vitality in everything they could capture from the paved side streets dappled by the early morning sun to the rambunctious sounds produced by the adults and children making their way to wherever they needed to be.

_Of course_, _a more rational person would see that as a reason to remain in Gotham. . ._

Wally brushed that unwanted statement aside before he felt inclined to investigate it any further. He came here looking for harmony and had little desire for any possible source of reasoning. It was perhaps the biggest reason why he had come looking for Jay. If anyone would understand the difficulty of the decisions he felt he had to make, it would be him.

But, once again, it was rather obvious that the old man had failed to grasp this particular importance. In fact, their entire conversation had so far consisted of a litany of questions that Wally had little desire to answer.

_How are you doing? Where have you been? How's Linda? Where do you two plan on hanging your hat? When can I see Jai and Iris? I bet they've grown like bean sprouts since I've seen them last! _

_What are you going to do now?_

Wally answered each of the old man's questions as hastily as he could, with each of his responses making it more glaringly obvious that the conversation had not been going according to the younger man's plans. Of course, had the younger speedster not been so wrapped up in his own concerns, he would doubtlessly have noticed that the older man had long since picked up on the dismissive tactics. Each of the old man's questions, many of which would have normally been laced with curious enthusiasm, became subdued and imbued with tactful delicacy.

"You know, son. I can't help but notice that we seem to have different ideas on what we should be talking about."

Wally sighed into his cup of coffee before looking up to meet Jay's eyes. A moment later he shied away from the intuitive gaze, afraid of what may be brought about because of it.

"Linda says she wants to stay in Gotham."

Jay's immediate response was a slow nod. He waited until Wally was willing to look at him before he made a more significant reply.

"You don't appear to be too happy with that idea."

Wally looked out the window once again. "This is my home, Jay. I was happy with life the way it was and now everything seems to be changing all at once."

"Life is all about change, Wally," Jay said gently.

"Well, I don't need this much change right now," Wally bit back, "especially with everything else that's already going on in my life."

Jay nodded again as he snagged another forkful of omelet before dipping it into his dwindling bowl of grits. "Well, I suppose you could always try to run real fast and turn the world the around," he offered before taking another healthy bite of his breakfast. "Get yourself a little extra time. I mean, I never saw a whole lot of use in trying it but Kal-L tried it every now and again and it seemed to work for him. . ."

"I'm not looking for another joke," Wally all but hissed over the old man's good-natured ribbing.

"All right," Jay relinquished after taking a sip of lemonade. "Then let me ask another question. How does your wife feel about staying in Gotham?"

"Are you kidding? I've never seen her so excited," Wally replied with a distressing note of restlessness. "Jesus Christ, Jay, we've only been back for two weeks and she's already got herself a job interview and a new place lined up for us! I mean, I tell her that I want to keep things on an even keel and it's like she takes that to mean that we should turn our worlds upside down!"

"I see," Jay replied, his voice a bit muffled as he ran his napkin over his lips. "And how about the kids? What do they think about it?"

"They're all gung-ho about it too."

"I see," Jay said as he went into another round of contemplative nodding. "Well, it seems to me that you've got quite a problem on your hands, young man. Thankfully, I've got just the solution to get you out of this mess."

"Really?" Wally asked, his eyes wide with the hope of receiving a solution to his pressing problems.

"Yes, sir, I believe I do." the old man answered. "You're going to zip up your lip, support your wife, and do whatever you can to make as much of this opportunity as you can." Wally gave off a petulant groan but that didn't stop Jay from delivering his advice. "And you're also going to make a note to tell me when you get settled in so Joan and I can see the kids. After all, I've got to get something out of all this clever advice."

"You think you should get something out of _that _advice?" Wally almost spat out. "Just shut up and take it? So. . . so, so you don't think I should have any authority over my life whatsoever? Is that it?"

"Wallace West, you are a married father of a pair of two-year-olds. Of course you don't have any authority over your life! My goodness, boy, I know you're probably feeling boxed in but you're smart enough to have figured that out by now!"

"But what about Central City? You can't expect me to just sit here and force you to patrol it every night. You've already got enough responsibilities with The Justice Society!"

"There's no need to worry about me, young man," Jay said in a genuinely assuring manner. "The JSA has more than enough people on the roster to allow me to go on my patrols. And, lest we forget, it's not exactly much of a commute for me to get here from New York. In fact, I think it's safe to say that I could get here almost as quickly as you can from Gotham."

The younger speedster groaned once again, the disappointment wrought upon by his failure clearly etched upon his slight, handsome face.

Jay, though he did feel a twinge of guilt in playing a part in his colleague's discontent, had no problem keeping in stride and cutting to the heart of the matter. "So, now that we've gotten all that out of the way. How about you tell me more about the real reason you stopped by to see me?"

Wally responded by sitting up from his side of the booth, making certain to reach and grab the check left by the waitress almost 15 minutes ago.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Absolutely," Jay replied as he began to rise up from his own seat.

"Before we do that, how about you show me where Bart is buried."

* * *

_Nero's Needle_

The sun had long past set over the tall skyline of Gotham City but Linda Park still found that she had a good many reasons to celebrate. After all, she was now the newest columnist for The Gotham Times. She realized that it could very well be a bit job but the important thing was that she had, _finally_, regained a foothold in the world of journalism, a realm of interest she had long missed during her days of relative isolation and frequent diaper changing. The mere taste of opportunity was as liberating as the rum and pineapple juice pouring down her throat.

There were some potential problems on the horizon of course. The thought of leaving Jai and Iris in the care of another person still pulled at her heart strings. Not to mention that her standing within an underground, metahuman military organization would probably not lead to a great deal of growth within her chosen profession.

Oh, and let's not forget that it was increasingly obvious that the love of her life still needed some convincing that this was, in fact, the place for them.

_Ah well, _she thought with a lazy grin. _That's nothing that can't be taken care of tomorrow. It's been two years since I've had a night on the town and I'm planning on enjoying myself __**i-mmensly!**_

"OOOOH!" Cissie chirped as she thrust a green concoction almost directly into Stephanie's face. "You've got to try this Emerald Forest. It is all kinds of awesome!"

Linda made an effort to tear herself away from her thoughts to watch as Stephanie shied away from the archer's offering with a rather cute crinkle on her nose as she did so.

"Noooooo way," Stephanie replied as she slid her beer across the table with her. "I don't drink anything that's green. I've had enough experience with _food_ that's turned green to realize that it's a bad idea."

"Awww, you're so stupid," Arrowette countered with a hint of a slightly inebriated slur.

"No, I will tell you what's stupid," Stephanie replied with a bit more lucidity. "The outfit that girl in the corner is wearing! Oh my good ungrateful Lord!"

Linda made certain to prevent Cissie's drink from tumbling into the archer's lap as Arrowette turned violently to catch a glimpse of whatever potential fashion disaster that Stephanie had zeroed in on. She made certain to tune out what would most certainly be an intellectual deliberation as the two youngsters gossiped with as much enthusiasm as they could muster. It was hardly the first time this night that the mother of two had questioned the wisdom of her selection of running buddies: a pair of women 10 years her junior who just happened to be armed with weapons of both mass and minor destruction. Add the lethal combination of phenomenally convincing fake I.D.'s and a desire to engage in embarrassing conversations and it didn't take an investigative journalist to realize that this was a potential for disaster.

_Of course, there's also the problem of needing any port in a storm_, Linda shrewdly reminded herself. _Ah well, at least they're entertaining in their own way. Not to mention. . . oh shit, they're both staring at me!_

"Wellll?" Stephanie asked as Linda sought to regain her bearings. "How are you going to explain yourself?"

Linda gave thanks to her past experiences with insane super villains and belligerent celebrities as she managed to hide her nervousness in the face of the pointed glances. "How am I going to explain what?"

Stephanie huffed and blew up a breath that brushed against a bang of blonde hair that had fallen over her forehead. "How are you going to explain how your husband's been acting lately? He wasn't there to wish you luck for the interview, he wasn't there to congratulate you for your new job, and he wasn't there when Jai puked up his lunch all over my new sweater!"

"You told me that was funny," Linda calmly replied. "You tried to shove it into Dick's face, like, five times after it happened!"

"So not the point," Cissie interrupted. "I mean, what the hell is up with Wally? It's like since he's come back he's in some. . . angst having contest with Bruce."

"Angst having contest," Stephanie parroted with a snort.

"He's just having a hard time adjusting to everything that's happening. It's always been tough for him to just leave something in the hands of somebody else."

"Yeah, an' of course we don't know anything about that," Cissie said rather crossly. "Innit that right, Batman?" Cissie asked as she sloppily slapped Robin on the shoulder. The physical impact almost seemed to trigger a profound change in Stephanie as she hunched her shoulders and knit her brow so forcefully that it almost looked painful.

"What are you trying to insinuate, Cecilia?" Stephanie grumbled in a passable imitation of The Dark Knight.

"Well," Cissie attempted to explain, "It's just that sometimes you can get really wrapped up in your business and with crime fighting. . ."

"This is my mission, Arrowette!" "Batman" sternly reminded her patrol partner. "I must remain forever vigilant so that no one will have to endure the pain that I have been forced to suffer. I must continue to spread fear into the superstitious minds of lollipop thieves and puppy spankers."

"Look, I'm just saying that you could relax a little bit," the archer reasoned. "Maybe you could just take a little break. Maybe jet set over to Egypt and bang Talia like a snare drum. Ooh, or if you don't want to travel, how about just stopping by Catwoman's place for a booty cat call. . ."

"NO!!!" Stephanie barked. "I must stay true to my mission! I cannot allow myself to succumb to the desires of horny, morally ambiguous women! I must resist! Angst and brood! Brood and angst! Sexual repression! Brood! Brood! Angst!"

That was as far as Stephanie could go before she succumbed to the laughter that had taken over the two women sitting next to her.

Linda was the first to recover. "I don't know how he manages to put up with the both of you," she said with a lingering chuckle.

"And _we_ still don't know why you put up with Wally!" Stephanie countered. "I mean. . . this is a guy that locks himself up in an alternate dimension and stays there for months after he didn't have no reason to stay there anymore."

Linda sighed. "Look, I'll never say it was a picnic but it's not as if I didn't have a choice in the matter. Wally's had to overcome a lot in his life and a lot of it he's had to do on his own. It's that strength that helped me realize what a wonderful man he is and why he needs someone to share in his struggles, just like he shares in mine."

The former reporter ceased her explanation to take a sip of her pina colada. The pause did nothing to subdue the interest of her listeners, both of whom seemed to be waiting on her with bated breath.

"There's a big part of love that's all about the sacrifice, kiddos," Linda said in what she hoped to be a sagacious manner. "Wally's given me so much of him and I've given up a lot in return. And, as stressful as it can occasionally be, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Stephanie shook her head as Cissie gave off a dreamy sigh.

"That is so. . . bizarrely romantic," said the latter.

"Whatever," grumbled the former as she went back to nursing her bottle of Guinness.

"And speaking of romances," Linda went on, now eager to swing the conversational spotlight off her own troubles. "What about this thing going on between Kara and Lloyd? I mean, I got a bit of the background from Richard but. . ."

Linda cut her explanation short when she noticed that Stephanie had slammed her beer bottle down on the table while Cissie gave out a groan of frustration and slid her forehead across the wooden surface.

"Ohhhhh, it's not even worth getting into," Stephanie answered with a distinct note of derision. "Handsome weird boy means beautiful weird girl and they find out that neither one of them have ever been wuved. It's so cute that it's just god damn disgusting! They've spent the last damn year trying to hook up but neither of them has any idea on how to do it."

"Still say we should just lock 'em up in a closet an' be done with it," added Cecilia.

"Ahh, that ideas gotten tired," Stephanie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Now I'm more interested in seeing how we can get Dick and Roy together in a dark, enclosed space. That thee-o-ree you had about too much testosterone got me to thinking."

"Well, first we'll have to set up the camera," Cissie said matter-of-factly.

Stephanie snorted. "Please, girl. You know that goes without sayin'. Say, Linda? You want in on this little idea. You can be charge of either the popcorn or buying the lube for our entertainment."

Linda Park shook her head while doing her best to avoid joining in the perverse merriment of her compatriots.

_I'm really hoping the guys are behaving a little more maturely than we are.

* * *

_

_East Gotham Harbor- Storage Facility 9AB742_

Arsenal shouted back a few choice, profane words as he dove behind a stack of cast-iron shipping crates in order to avoid the latest rounds of gunfire.

"Having problems there, sweetie?" Nightwing merrily asked from about twenty feet away. "You know, I can't imagine K'ory would be having this much trouble."

"Yeah, well excuse me for not being able to shoot lasers from my eyes or have big orange tatas!" Roy yelled back while inserting another pair of clips into his tranquilizer guns. The double reloading was completed in a matter of seconds. Another few precious moments elapsed before the sharpshooter could take aim at one of his pursuers and fire. The shot was near perfect, the dart piercing the side of the foolish gunman's neck and causing him to go down in a heap.

"Buk buk, motherfucker!" Arsenal hooted as the other gunmen wisely scurried for cover. "That makes four, short pants!"

"Huh, that's pretty impressive," Dick admitted before abandoning his own choice of cover with a tremendous leap that allowed him to turn the tables on the two gun runners that were attempting to catch up to him. He sent one of his foes down with a solid strike from the escrima stick in his right hand before disarming the other one with a well-placed kick to the man's left wrist. Two quick shots to the gunman's kneecaps with the short, blunt weapons were quickly followed by a clenched fist to the gut and a finishing shot with the left escrima stick that landed firmly on the back of the man's neck.

"Granted, it's not as extraordinary as my total of seven," Nightwing added, "but it's not too shabby. Maybe if you try _really _hard and believe in yourself. . ."

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Roy yelled back as he dashed for a better vantage point. "And getting back to the original topic of conversation, I never did see what you saw in Starfire. Well, I suppose I could _see_ what you saw. Hell, it's not like she made a big deal to hide 'em."

"It wasn't like that!" Dick interrupted as he continued to work his way through the maze of storage containers and passageways where another two dozen merchants and gun suppliers were waiting to turn he and Roy into lead-ridden corpses. It was a testament to the efficiency of Noah's communicators that Dick and Roy were still able to maintain their conversation well after they had gotten out of shouting distance. "She was just looking for somebody who could lend her a helping hand when she came to Earth. I mean, it's not like she had a billionaire socialite that she could run to."

"Oh, so she was a charity case too, huh? Damn. And here I thought it was just your way of teenage rebellion."

"How do you mean?" Nightwing asked over another hail of gunfire.

"Oh, come on, short pants! When you were 19 you ran away from Gotham and The Bat and your beautiful, if prudey, red-headed significant other and made your way to Titans Tower full time? And what, some may ask, did you decide to do with your time?" Roy asked as he took down another of his pursuers with a gorgeous shot coming out of a tuck roll. "You hooked up with a chica who was the personality polar opposite of the girl whose pants you were trying to get into in the first place! And that would have been fine except you had to go after a girl who liked kicking in the skulls of criminals, was more than happy to run roughshod over your personal life, and had _red, freaking hair_! I mean, have you no sense of decency and self-awareness, man?"

"Maybe not," Nightwing admitted as he moved to get behind his latest prey. "Still, at least I've got the self-awareness to realize when I'm getting a lecture about responsibility from Roy Harper, former drug addict, current sex addict, and teenage hero fuck-up extraordinaire."

Roy would have flipped his buddy the bird, or at least have pointed his middle finger in Dick's general direction, had he not been so busy lining up a shot on a gunman that had taken cover behind a giant conveyer belt.

"Don't try and take the spotlight off you by putting it on me! I never said that I didn't make more than my share of fuck-ups and I've admitted to every one of 'em. What _you _need to be doin' is recognize what you need to do."

"Which is?" Dick asked as a bullet whizzed just inches over his head.

"That you don't have to stay away from the rest of us just because Kara, Lloyd, and the sprout have to. You need to be mature about. . . OOOOOOH!!!!!!! SHIT, YEAH! YO, BROOD BOY JUNIOR, _TELL ME_ YOU SAW THAT!"

As a matter of fact, Nightwing hadn't seen whatever had caused his friend to spaz out like a 10-year-old boy getting a hold of his first Playboy. However, judging from the series of sounds he heard: the familiar _phoot_ of Roy's tranq guns, the dull _plink_ of a bullet bouncing off one of the lead pipes that ran alongside the main conveyer belt, and the strangled groan of Roy's opponent was enough to allow Dick to put the pieces together.

"Man, why are you pulling all this bouncing bullets off stuff, Revolver Ocelot garbage!" Dick shouted over the communicator as he used his escrima sticks to bat the gun out of the hands of his latest victim. "That's just a waste of time!"

"Shit, you just mad that I'm stylin' on ya!" Roy hypothesized as another flawless shot ratcheted his total of unconscious guards up to six. "And no baggin' on Ocelot either! You play the new Metal Gear demo yet?"

Nightwing was too busy pinching the nerve cluster in the neck of his eighth target to respond immediately. "Not yet! How is it?"

"Fuckin' awesome, man! The first-person mode's really improved and they've got this new stealth technique where you can hide in an oil drum and then roll around in it and run over the enemy soldiers."

Nightwing slunk into the shadows of the east-wing staircases for some well deserved cover while simultaneously considering the doubtlessly many important ramifications of this recent addition to Hideo Kojima's incredible espionage series.

"See, that sounds stupid! I mean, you're telling me that these genetically advanced super-soldiers armed with machine guns are just going to sit there and watch a prematurely old man run over them with a barrel?!"

"God damn it, Richie! How many times do I have to tell you?" Roy shouted back. "The logic of it isn't important! What's important is that you can run people over with a barrel! Can't you see the beauty in. . . oh, shit! RPG!!"

Arsenal's warning gave Nightwing enough time to retreat from his hiding place and scurry his way south as the HE round slammed into a metal crate just twenty yards away from him. Evidently one of the more intelligent gun runners had decided to bring a SMAW rocket launcher into play and the blast zone was almost enough to nearly singe his battle armor despite his distance from it. The rush to avoid any further explosions prompted both vigilantes to involuntarily reunite behind the cement stairwell on the southeast corner of the storage facility.

"You're running out of time," Nightwing said with an almost sing-song voice as he finally came to a stop beside a visibly frustrated Arsenal. "And, by the way, speaking of original points of conversation, you still haven't managed to answer my original question."

"Which was?" Roy asked as he peeked over one of the steps to see if anyone was coming.

"Why did you decide to come to Gotham? Oh, and lest we forget, you've got 15 seconds left."

The aggravated growl that served as Arsenal's initial reply was a rather clear sign that he was well-aware of the deadline. "How about you quit distracting me with all these questions while I'm trying to play catch up?" he asked back.

"Quit dodging the question, man," Nightwing calmly replied. "And besides, there's no way you're going to catch up now!"

Roy let loose with another burst of profanity as his attempt to bring his total to seven was met with failure as his target slid behind a metal filing cabinet.

"Five. . ." Dick announced. "Four. . . three. . . two. . . one. . ."

The Fortelli family's latest ammunition depository was rocked by a loud _crash_ and a whirl of motion that left everyone inside searching for the source of the ensuing chaos. The fruitless observations gave the newest arrival more than enough time to do its' damage as he rushed through the criminals in the factory with frightening efficiency. Dick and Roy emerged from their cover to watch it all, the both of them wincing as their closest former target was flung against the cabinet he had been hiding behind, causing both human and storage container to limply topple over with a loud _crash_!.

Not surprisingly, it didn't take long at all for Lloyd Thomas to find himself surrounded byt the 17 criminals he had either knocked unconscious or put into a world of hurt, the 14 poor fools that had played as unwilling victims to Dick and Roy's bizarre contest, and his two sure-to-be-impressed partners.

"Golly, Speedy. Isn't he just the bestest thing you've ever seen?" asked Nightwing.

"Oh yeah," Roy said with equal enthusiasm. "And I bet he smells like spring time and cinnamon too."

"Sod the both of you," Lloyd replied while observing his handiwork. "An' let me just say right here an' now that this wasn't what I was lookin' for when you blokes threw out the idea of a guys' night out."

"Well, just what were you looking for, my frustrated little hit mouse?" asked Nightwing.

"Oh, I don't know," Lloyd replied with a smidge of hostility. "Just a little bit more standard fare 's all. Drinkin' beer, eatin' cheap food, havin' stereotypically masculine camaraderie, drinkin' beer, being possibly introduced to naked women. . ."

"Well, I do like that drinkin' beer idea," Roy interrupted. "Naked women are usually a nice plus too."

"Well, I'll admit that beer and women are rather appealing," Nightwing agreed. "However, Bats is training Kara and he gave the other girls the night off so it's up to us to be good, responsible crime fighters."

"And besides, Mister Thomas," Roy added. "From what I've been hearing from the gossip mill, there's only one rack that you've got any interest in starin' at."

Lloyd stared at his newest compatriot with a sour, tired look in his eyes. "Now why the soddin' hell do we 'ave a gossip mill? I mean, who the bugger started it and why do I got to be roped into it?"

"Ah, calm down, young'in," Roy answered. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Lloyd shook his head. "No worries, Harper. It's jus'. . . what the bugger am I supposed to do? She's tellin' me not to sodding worry but she won't even sit down for a half a mo' an' tell me why I shouldn't fret. I mean, I want to say I'm bloody sorry but she won't even tell me what on earth I'm supposed to be sorry for?"

"Yeah, that's the problem that comes with the ladies, young man," Roy said. "You get all hung up on a little honey and then you get your head wrapped up tryin' to figure out what you're supposed to be doin'. I'm tellin' the both of you. Making a connection is just a death knell for any promising relationship."

"Says the man who has had more than his fair share of unnecessary _connections_," Dick countered, causing Lloyd to give him a ghost of a smile. "And don't worry about Kara, Lloyd. Bruce will do what he can to help patch whatever it is that needs patching. We'll get through all this."

Lloyd's smile drifted away from his lips and towards his eyes. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't have a great deal of experience with these kinds of conversations. Still, he couldn't help but think that he'd like to have more of them, particularly if Dick and Roy had invited him in as easily as they were trying to do.

Of course, he also knew that, in order to be a part of this kind of group, he'd have to give as good as he got.

"So," Lloyd replied, "you're tellin' me to put my hope in a man whose most lasting romantic relationships were with an emotionally-obsessive environmental terrorist, a schizophrenic cat burglar, and a little boy he picked up from the circus."

Lloyd managed to hold in his amusement, keeping an even smirk for the two seconds it took for Roy to break out in a convulsion of unrestrained laughter. That allowed him to join soon after, forcing Dick to try his hardest to keep a straight face while projecting the hostility that came with such a horrific accusation. The former acrobat was still struggling to keep a straight face when Roy slung an arm around Lloyd's shoulders and dragged the former assassin into a one-armed hug.

"Oh, lordie lord," Roy said, his lungs still recovering from his laughter. He dragged Lloyd along with him as the sound of sirens told the three vigilantes that they were about to have company. "A line like that deserves a free beer! Yo, Nightthing! How does The Bat feel about drinkin' on patrols?"

"Not really sure," Nightwing replied. "Something tells me he probably frowns upon it."

"Ah," Roy replied.

"You know," Nightwing continued as they made their way out of the south exit. "I'm sick and god damned tired of that stupid joke. I mean, everybody tells it."

"Uh huh," Roy answered as he and Lloyd marched in lock step with Dick trailing a few steps behind.

"Bruce didn't lay a finger on me."

"We know, Grayson," Lloyd said in consolation. "We know."

"Textbook denial," said Roy.

"Yes," Lloyd agreed. "I just wish there was something we could do for him."

"SHUT UP!!"

* * *

_The Batcave_

The Calculator tore his eyes away from the monitor displaying the final remnants of the conflict at the storage facility, making certain to stifle any traces of laughter as he did so. He then focused his concentration upon another monitor, this one presenting a computer readout of the results of Bruce's latest work with the microscope. The subject of The Batman's studies remained still under the advanced visual modification equipment, the lead lining of the clear casing protecting the denizens of the cavern from the radiation being given off by the glowing green rock.

"I must say that I've always taken an interest in examining the effects of radiation upon rocks and plant life," the hacker admitted. "I suppose that, if you look at it from a certain perspective, chemistry and radiation simply force calculations between different substances. A variable is presented upon another and then you are able to examine the results. Then again, I suppose anyone can find intrigue in examining the effects that one creation, be it animate or inanimate, can have on another, whether it is a virus upon a computer program or how an individual's behavior may affect another's. . ."

Noah turned to see that Bruce and Kara were staring at him, their countenances radiating either disinterest or irritation, depending upon how you wanted to look at it.

"I suppose I should return to my duties," Noah realized as he returned to his monitors.

"There isn't any other way that I can explain it, Kara," Batman once again said to his frustrated partner. "The radiation given off by the kryptonite affects your muscle control and physiology. Unless you want to wear some form of lead-laced battle armor that covers your entire body then there isn't really anything that you can do to overcome it."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Kara insisted. "I mean, I've come across all sorts of radiation since I've been here on Earth and none of it has had any affect on me. Why would this one stupid little rock make me so weak?!"

"I must agree that the theory does seem rather farfetched," Noah threw in after taking a sip of his coffee. "A Kryptonian's exaggerated response to kryptonite poisoning would be a bit more plausible if kryptonite were some artificially manufactured component designed to be some form of biological weapon against your race, Kara. Since if that were true then it could be considered to be some kind of non-fictional dues ex machina designed to counter the force of an infinitely more powerful foe. However, its natural presence within a variety of different solar systems tears that theory to shreds."

Noah regained his bearings enough to realize that he was, once again, being awarded for his efforts with a pair of perturbed glares.

"It was merely a theory," Noah said with a note of petulance. "There's no need for such a hostile reaction," he added before returning to his duties once again.

"There has to be some kind of answer for this," Kara said almost pleadingly. "Maybe some kind of injection or spell that can counter-affect whatever the kryptonite does to me."

Batman placed a gloved hand upon Kara's shoulder, a gesture that caused the young woman to jump in surprise before she could stop herself.

"I'll be honest with you, Kara," Batman said softly, almost consolingly. "I've spent years investigating the effects of this rock on your cousin's physiology. However, all of my studies have been devoted on how to use it to my advantage."

Kara looked up to see the flicker of pain and regret on The Batman's face. Unbeknowst to the young woman, her teacher was struggling with a distressing image, that of a good friend screaming in agony, his body on fire and tinged with red as a result of a product of his own creation.

"Look, I understand that, Mister Wayne. It's just. . . every time somebody takes advantage of my weakness, somebody gets hurt. Isn't it my responsibility to make certain to do what I can to be better than what I am right now?"

Batman nodded, full aware of the dilemma that Kara was facing. However, like any good mentor, he also knew there was another piece to the puzzle.

"Kara, you have my word that I'll do what I can to help you with this. However, you know as well as I do that there's another weakness of yours that takes greater precedence and there's only one person on this team that knows magic well enough to help you with that one."

The half-Kryptonian shied away from Batman's glance once again, the thought of her biggest dilemma seeming to literally weigh her down.

"I know, Mister Wayne," she glumly replied. "And. . . and I will. I promise. I know I could be doing a better job right now. . ."

"It's not your performance that I'm worried about Kara."

Batman didn't need to look at Kara to realize that he had surprised her once again. To be brutally frank, he had surprised himself a bit with his response. However, the hint of a smile on Kara's lips told him that, despite his own reservations, he had made the right decision.

"I think I should call it an early night," the young woman said. "Maybe a good night's sleep will do me some good."

Bruce put a lot of effort into responding with his most patient smile. "Just let Alfred know if you need anything."

"I will."

The Batman watched as Kara quietly returned to Wayne Manor, her feet not even touching the weathered cave floors as she used her gift of flight to make a graceful exit.

Noah waited for nearly a minute before he chose to respond. After all, this was a thorny situation he was choosing to jump into.

"Of course, human relations have their own share of intriguing calculations. . ."

The Calculator was rather pleased with his response. A smidgen of wit laced with just a hint of intrigue and irritation. Even better, it caused his old friend to turn towards him.

"And just what do you mean by that, Calculator?"

"Well, it's just as you said, Batman. You've spent a great deal of energy into investigating how to best harm one of your staunchest colleagues. However, when Miss Zor-el asked for your assistance, a measure that could very well defeat the purpose of your research, you chose to do so quite willingly."

Bruce turned away from him sharply, just as Noah had anticipated. "You know, I never had to deal with Oracle deluging me with dime-story psychoanalysis."

The Calculator primly took another sip from his cup. The verbal low blow was mildly surprising but nothing he couldn't overcome.

"Methinks the vigilante doth protest too much."

Batman sighed as he picked up a case file sitting on top of Noah's desk: the collected reports of Kara Zor-el, Lloyd Thomas, and Nigel Thornton concerning the incidents which took place at The Monster Farm.

"Noah, what if I told you that I wasn't entirely certain about the why?"

The hacker pursed his lips, a clear sign that he was searching for a proper answer.

"I'd say that I would be rather intrigued. Either that or I'd think you a liar."

The piercing glare from The Dark Knight made it rather obvious to Noah that the second possibility was out of the question.

Noah placed his cup back down, now more than willing to not press the point any further. "Well, all moral and emotional scruples aside, this appears to be as good of an avenue to expend your energies as any. After all, it isn't as if the world is beset by a cadre of supervillians bent on constructing a massive army in order to subjugate the world. . . Oh, wait a moment. . ."

Noah chose to turn away before he was forced to weather another harsh, angry gaze. After all, he had work to do.

* * *

The assembled menagerie of super-powered criminals, thieves, and mercenaries regarded their current employer with varying degrees of cool detachment, disinterest, or fear. While some had begun to go so far as to start quietly talking amongst themselves, others who feared the potential reprisal that would doubtlessly come with inciting the wrath of the speaker on the stage remained either attentive or wisely silent. 

The pep talk was rather memorable in its own way. Perhaps it wasn't a rip-roaring diatribe laced with inspiration but the colorful language employed to explain the intentions that Doctor Psycho had for his prey certainly opened a few eyes.

"And you will do everything in your power to make Wally West see the mistake of trying to take what is rightfully ours!" the diminutive murderer roared with passion that would rival even the most ardent activist, politician, or preacher. "When you're done with him I want you to make him wish that he had choked himself while trying to swallow his own ridiculous costume! I want to hear him say, 'Oh please, Doctor Psycho. Please stop me from eating my own ears! They taste like rotten tuna!'."

As seemingly ridiculous as the speech may have seemed, there was one man who had managed to tune out all of its sensationalistic appeal. Though he was a sliver under five feet tall, the man's chiseled physique and serene manner made it clear that there was a great deal more to the man than his physical stature. His comportment could easily be taken as one of disinterest but the truth was that he was almost giddy with the thought of completing his latest task at hand.

Constantine Drakon could only hope that Harper would be just as happy to see him.

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

Ah, the first issue of the new year! The air is rife with dreams of quality story lines and witty exchanges and it's only a matter of time before my dozens and dozens of fans are once again hit with the bitter wave of disappointment! Why it's the literary equivalent of the life of a Chicago Cubs fan (and this from a Wrigley Wacko with twenty years under his belt!)

All kidding aside, thanks, as always, to those who read and review. It's always good to see more people picking up this story of mine and it's even better when I receive feed back in return for my little labor of love (and, of course, providing feed back in return is also pretty good for the old soul). Let me know if there's something I can improve on or something you'd like to see and I'll do what I can to oblige. For example, since nobody's complained about my providing previews of the next issue, I'll do that right now.

* * *

Issue #53 Preview 

Well, looks like Vincent and his Funky Bunch aren't being as complacent as The Misfits would hope them to be. What does Doctor Psycho have in store for The Fastest Man Alive and what unseemly fellows look to be lending him a hand with his efforts? Just what are the reasons behind Roy Harper's sudden appearance at Wayne Manor and what do they have to do with Constantine Drakon? All this plus Batman, Robin, and chi meditation in the next installment of The Misfits: Those Seeking Comfort. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	53. Those Seeking Comfort

Issue #53

Those Seeking Comfort

The concept of group dynamics within the perspective of a guys' night out can often be particularly intriguing if you take the time and effort to embrace the stupidity of it all. Conversational tracks are picked up like fruit in the produce department, felt and considered for consumption, and then they are either bought or abandoned depending upon the impression it draws upon the chatty social customers. Now, with the standing presence of this metaphor, one would perhaps imagine that only the most fertile of topics would be selected, subject matters that would serve to enrich the hearts and minds of Lloyd Thomas, Richard Grayson, and Roy Harper.

Of course, it goes without saying that, if you believe that to be true, then you have clearly never been witness to a conversation between a group of men larger than two.

"I still say that Atari Bigby would make a great defender in soccer," Roy argued, a surfeit of hand gestures accompanying his impassioned debate. "He's fast, he knows the best way to get to the guy who's going to get the ball, and he can take him down the moment they get it."

"First of all," Lloyd interjected as the three of them winded their way down the path that would lead them to the atrium of Wayne Manor. "If you're gonna spout on 'bout _football_ then call it _football_. Not _soccer_." The Brit made no effort to hide his disdain over having to use such an abominable term. "Footie is footie an' it's been that way for centuries. American football is what you Yanks play when you tossers wanna feel warm and cozy wearin' helmets, shoulder pads and colorful jerseys while ya throw yourselves at each other like lovesick pups."

"God, please don't go into the homoerotic argument again!" Nightwing pleaded as he rubbed at his tired eyes in frustration. "There's been enough talk about men's asses tonight, thank you very much!"

"I'm not trying to talk about it," Arsenal reminded his old friend as the three of them made another turn. "I just want the kid to respond to the point I made! I think Atari Bigby would make a good defender. Confirm or deny, Black Dog!"

Lloyd sighed, clearly weary of the older man's persistence (and the "kid" reference didn't exactly warm his cochels either).

"All right, I think the bloke's got potential. 'Course, a big part of me's sayin' that 'cause I feel bad 'bout ya Packers, Harper."

"Fuckin' pretty boy, punk ass, lucky ass Manning," Roy growled as he successfully fought back the urge to spit on the posh carpeting within the impressive hallway. "You realize that I've gotta cheer for the Patriots now?! Shit! That's like cheerin' for the damn Yankees."

"Or for soddin' Brazil," Lloyd added.

"I just don't see why you can't just watch the Super Bowl without having to cheer for anybody," Nightwing threw in. The inquiry caused Lloyd and Roy to look at one another as if Dick had just asked them why the sky was blue.

"Don't worry about him," Roy said with a stage whisper.

"Poor soddin' philistine," Lloyd said. There was a trace of sympathy in his eyes as he regarded the former Robin before he finally turned away in revulsion.

"He just doesn't understand, Lloyd," Roy said in consolation. "Just work with him."

Dick was preparing to launch into another frustrated tirade until an expected interloper decided to make her presence felt. She rushed towards the three men without the least bit of subtlety, the soles of her tiny feet sinking into the soft carpeting as she rushed toward her father and favorite uncle. To the credit of the three gentlemen, each of them were quick to break away from their prattle and greeted the girl with warm smiles as Lian closed the gap between them as quickly as her legs could do so. Roy even went so far as to sink down to her knees in order to be better prepared to receive what would most certainly be a warm embrace from his loving daughter.

And it was good that he made the gesture, particularly since the new vantage point made it much easier for him to watch as his daughter leapt into Lloyd's arms and cheered as The Black Dog swung her around with the aid of his telekinesis.

"Hi, Uncle Dick! Hi, Mister Lloyd!" Lian said as Lloyd eased her gently into his arms.

"Oh, so I'm _Mister_ Lloyd," the Brit replied tartly. "So how I get to be an uncle then?"

"Ah, just buy her a bunch of stuff," Dick recommended as he mussed the young girl's hair. "That's what worked for me."

"Well, I might consider it if the 'ittle moppet'd start behavin'. You know yer up past your bedtime, right?"

"Uh huh." Lian's reply didn't even hold the slightest trace of guilt or fear of punishment.

"Chit after my own heart, she is," Lloyd said, smirking in return when Lian gave him a cheery smile.

"Hey, don't you be getting any ideas about my girl, Mr. Thomas," warned Nightwing. "You still do want to run off with me, don't ya, sweetie?"

"Sure, Uncle Dick."

A harsh clearing of the throat forced the three active participants of the conversation to cut their activities short. They turned to pay attention to Roy, who looked as if he was hardly impressed with the efforts being taken to ignore him.

"Oh. Hi, Dad." Lian said impassively before turning back to Dick and Lloyd.

The charade lasted for another handful of seconds before the sharpshooter playfully snatched his daughter from The Black Dog's clutches. Thankfully, his daughter didn't appear to be too offended by the hasty gesture, judging from her muffled laughter as her father peppered her face with kisses.

"And just what are you doing up at 2:30 in the morning?" Roy asked his daughter.

"Waiting for you, duh."

"Well, doesn't that make me feel all kinds of guilty," Roy said as he shifted his weight in order to make it easier for him to carry his daughter in the crook of his left arm. "Of course, that doesn't mean that you can go and blame me if you fall asleep when we go to the zoo tomorrow. I mean, you doze off and fall into the monkey exhibit and I might just let the baboons keep ya."

Lian broke into another burst of laughter as her father widened his eyes, cast his lips into a mock frown, and began making _ooks _and _ah-ah-ah's _that would make any Hamadryad proud.

"Well, all monkey business aside," Lloyd said as he gave off a hearty stretch. "Getting some shut eye sounds right diamond to me. Think I'll hit the hay myself, least after you an' me finish up with the night's debriefin', Dickie. Night, Harpers. Try not to eat the ticks you find in each other's hairlines"

"I'll see you down there, Lloyd," Dick said over Lian and Roy's goodbyes before turning to the father and daughter. "In fact, I think I'll leave right after Roy answers my question about this so-called offer that he got from Bruce. A question that, for those of you playing at home, is something you've managed to avoid answering for two weeks now, Speedy."

"Jeezus, Dick. I can't believe you're just going to ask a question like that right in front of my little girl." Roy held his daughter in front of Nightwing's face, presumably to make certain that Dick had noticed the girl's presence. "You're robbing me of the chance to be a responsible father here!"

Dick needed a moment to shake his head back and forth while being accosted by Roy's dramatically wide eyes and Lian's equally over-the-top stare. "You know what? You're right. I'm clearly going about this the wrong way. I just need to speak to somebody who's a bit more mature."

He paused and took a breath before putting Plan B into motion.

"Lian? Sweetie? Can you tell me why Cranky Grandpa Bruce gave your daddy a key to the house?"

"Hey! HEY!" Roy shouted as he shifted his body away in order to protect his daughter from the nefarious inquisitor. "What the heck is wrong with you? Dragging a little girl into your tawdry little investigation like that!" The sharpshooter used his spare hand to waggle a finger in front of his best friend's face. "I will have you know right now that I will not tolerate that kind of behavior in this house."

Dick took a moment to stare at Roy's offended finger, briefly contemplating whether or not Lian would be scarred if he broke said appendage while she was in the vicinity. Ultimately deciding that it wasn't worth the effort (not to mention that Bruce would probably order him to fix Roy up), he threw up his hands and walked away.

"Yeah, I'm the one corrupting her," he mumbled just loudly enough for the mischievous duo to hear. "I'm the one stealing weapons from Superman. I'm the one who snuck into Bruce Wayne's liquor cabinet when I was fourteen. I'm the one who used the Teen Titans hotline to President Clinton to try and order Chinese food. . ."

"You forgot about the time you used Oracle's comm. line to rent the strippers for Wally's bachelor party!" Roy shouted at Dick's back.

Nightwing didn't even bother to turn around as he made his way to the passageway that led to The Batcave. After all, he was fairly confident that his middle finger was quite capable of expressing how he felt about the whole affair.

Roy shook his head in response to his old friend's immaturity. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he apologized to the young lady clinging to his arms, "but I don't want you hanging out with Uncle Dick anymore. I just know he's going to be a bad influence on you." He paused in his little spiel to notice the serious look on his daughter's face. "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

"Why did we come here, daddy?"

Roy frowned, an impulsive gesture that he worked to quickly redeem with a smile. "Well, I always wanted you to know what it was like to live with an insane billionaire who dresses up in funny clothes every night." He gently placed his daughter back on the ground so the two of them could climb up the main stairwell together. "I mean, stuff like that is what makes life worth living as far as I'm concerned."

"Dadddddy," Lian complained in a petulant tone of voice that wouldn't have sounded the least bit appealing to Roy had it come from anyone else. However, given the speaker, he stopped his ascent in order to bend down and look his daughter in the eyes.

"We came here because I wanted to find a place where we could both be happy. I wanted us to be somewhere that we could both become whatever we're supposed to be."

Lian rewarded her father's honesty with an equally sincere smile.

"That sounds silly."

Roy had to stop himself from tumbling down the steps as he began laughing. _I've had to deal with damn near everybody so how is it that this girl can keep on surprising me? _

"Well, it's been established that your father is a very silly man." He brushed his fingers across his daughter's forehead to sweep some stray hairs off of her brow. "And besides, I thought you told me you were happy here? Aren't ya?"

"Uh huh," Lian said with an exuberant nod as she continued climbing the steps, her stomps echoing off the high walls. "I mean, I wish there was some kids my age but it's fun hanging out with Aunt Linda and the babies. Plus Mister Alfred makes good pancakes!"

Roy nodded in agreement as the two of them continued their climb. "Yeah, I have to admit that Alfie's got me beat in the cooking department." He made certain to keep a few steps behind his daughter as she began racing up the steps as fast as she could. "And here I was thinking that we'd have to get by on pizzas and pancakes for the rest of our natural lives."

The two of them soon arrived at Lian's bedroom, a cozy little domicile that was already presenting strong evidence that a child resided there. The half-full hamper was surrounded by various articles of clothing strewn about the floor, some favored toys lay haphazardly by the closet, and the bed had been prepared in a manner that Alfred would have doubtlessly disapproved of had he been available to inspect it. Nevertheless, Roy saw no issue with the current state of affairs (well, at least not now) and began sliding aside the covers, holding them patiently as Lian crawled underneath them. The former Checkmate agent then enveloped his daughter beneath the blankets so that she'd be warm and snug.

"Now, you sure you want to go to the zoo, tomorrow? Because I bet we could find some nice stuff in Grandpa Bruce's armory. . ."

"Noooo," Lian said through her laughter as her father kissed her on the forehead.

"All right, all right," Roy relented. He bent down to hug his daughter, nuzzling the side of the girl's head as Lian buried her tiny chin into the bridge of his left shoulder blade. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Lian said drowsily, the relaxed look on her eyes a clear sign that she was well on her way. "Good night, daddy."

"Good night, pumpkin."

* * *

_Central City- Longview Memorial Gardens_

Wallace Rudolph West had never been known for his patience. Yes, he had grown far more accustomed to the necessity of waiting since his teenage years, a time when he had to shake his legs like a rabbit just to pass the time between the rings of a telephone. However, his capacity for waiting would always remain achingly finite.

And Jason Peter Garrick had certainly been putting it to the test today.

He had only wanted to see Bart's grave. That was it. He didn't want to listen to Wildcat's Joe Louis story or hear Alan Scott going on about how much he's grown since Barry died and he sure as shit wasn't up for having to think of an excuse to get away from Courtney Whitmore and her puppy-dog eyes. He swore that he could see a grin on Jay's face as he frantically made excuses in order to avoid receiving a physical courtesy of Mr. Terrific and Doctor Midnight and a good part of him hated the old man for it.

Even worse, he found himself forced to try his best to shield his accumulated vitriol from Joan despite the fact that she had nothing to do with it. A nagging part of him was all too happy to remind him that he didn't quite pull it off while another portion of his psyche was happy to admit that he didn't exactly feel that bad about it.

And another part of him really regretted that he only had six of Joan's homemade, oatmeal cookies. Of course, that was another topic for another time.

Each new, unwanted encounter reminded Wally of the lie that was slowly coiling around his life, the half-deceit that screamed at him to get away from Wayne Manor as quickly as he and his family could. He could tell the JSA that he and Linda were living in Gotham but he couldn't say that they were living at the home of The Batman. He could blithely agree with Mister Terrific's belief that The Dark Knight had quit the JLA because he wanted to stay close to home but it was now up to _him _to reveal that the detective had actually raised a team of soldiers; a team of murderers designed to perform the so-called necessary deeds that his peers couldn't be caught doing. He couldn't even tell Superman that his cousin, the girl that he had spent months searching for, had remained in Gotham all along, her presence hidden from him with the aid of Lloyd's magic.

Every falsehood was another shovel of dirt that threatened to suffocate him.

And the memorial he happened to be staring at only served to remind him that he was responsible for the construction of somebody else's grave as well.

A good part of Wally's heart was touched by how pristine and meticulously well-kept Bart's monument appeared to be. Framed pictures and news clippings that once told the world about what Bart was willing to give to it were tastefully arranged around the walls that encircled the cenotaph. What few empty spaces on the boards were clustered with scribbles and words of thanks for the young man's sacrifice. A chill grew in Wally's stomach as the memorials reminded him of everything he had come to know Bart to be: his blind bravery, his bizarre amiability that almost bordered on comic stupidity, his desire to keep trying to be better than what he had already become. All the things he planned on telling the young man someday until he found out that the day he was planning for would never come around.

Bart's body wasn't here of course. _The security risk was too great, of course_, Jay explained to him.

Wally didn't put too much thought into it. As far as he was concerned, it was just another pile of dirt.

"I remember the time when Bart told us that he could remember everything he read at super speed," Wally said as Jay moved to examine some of the news clippings. "We both looked at each other as if he just told us that he could turn water to wine."

Jay chuckled as he ran his weathered fingers over one of the memorial boards. Wally didn't bother to see what the old man was doing in particular.

"And then when Deathstroke shot him," he went on. "Well, I guess I suppose it's when Jericho shot him. He just goes and decides to read every book in The San Francisco Public Library to make up for it. And when he tells me this, and after I recovered from the thought of him reading anything more complex than a comic book, do you want to know what he thought was the single most important thing he learned?"

"What was that?" Jay asked.

"That robins fart an average of 56 times a day."

Jay turned to stare at Wally, the confusion on his face as clear as day.

"He said that if there was any one thing that would cause Tim and the other kids to look at him funny, it would be that."

The elder Flash's face broke into a barely contained grin as he shut his eyes in order to keep himself from laughing. He eventually had to place his right hand over his mouth to restrain any noise while his left hand wrapped around one of the bulletin boards so he could support his own weight.

"Oh, goodness," Jay said with a watery smile.

Wally's face was far sterner. "Why didn't I ever listen to him? Why couldn't I ever learn just to stop and pay some damn attention?"

"All right, young man. This isn't the time for that," Jay strongly advised. "You know as well as I do that he wouldn't want you to. He gave everything he could, just like we have to do."

It took a moment for Wally to turn his eyes away from the empty gravesite and look his predecessor in the eyes. When he did, there was a hint of understanding in the man's eyes that wasn't quite there before.

"Yeah. You're right, Jay. As usual."

"Well, I don't know about that," Jay said as he strode towards Wally. "Still, I guess I should thank you for the compliment," he added as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder.

"It really is a wonderful memorial," Wally admitted as he pored over the monument and the surrounding structures once again. "Who's taking care of it? The city?"

"Well, not exactly," Jay said as he ran his fingers through his graying brown hair. "Truth be told, Bruce Wayne is the one responsible for financing the upkeep."

"Bruce?!" Wally replied, making no effort to hide his surprise. "But he _hated _Bart!"

Jay took a moment to chortle at the younger man's melodrama. "I don't really think that's true. Quite frankly, I always thought that Bruce had a soft spot for the young man."

"Is that right?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, I believe I still have some of the first-edition books that he had mailed to Bart. _Brave New World, The Time Machine. . ._ I think Jakeem got a hold of _The Giver _though. I'll have to ask when I get back."

"I'd check for bugs if I were you," Wally said with a snort.

The Flash of Earth-1 chuckled once again, although this occasion was a little less whimsical. "You're not a really big fan of The Batman, are you?"

"No. I'm not."

* * *

_The Batcave_

"So thas' how it stands, eh?" asked Nigel Thornton, galaxy-class beer drinker and the planet's foremost expert in Sambo style wrestling. "Well, if you want my advice, guv, I think it'd be right proper if ya. . ."

"NO! NO! A THOUSAND BLOODY TIMES NO!!" Lloyd all but screamed at his former mentor. "Un-fucking-believable, this is. I went through the first 19 years of my existence managin' to avoid getting a lick of advice when it comes to the fairer sex an' now I'm up to me bleedin' neck in it! An' now, just when I think I'm rid of it, I'm bein' accosted by a pair of blokes who haven't dated in the last soddin' decade! I don't wanna talk about Kara and I don't wanna talk about Mao so jus' leave it where it lies. codger!"

"Well," Noah said as he went about cleaning his glasses, "Though I recognize that you may not be actively searching for psychological insight. . ."

"And yet this won't stop you from shuttin' the hole in ya bleedin' face. . ." Lloyd pointed out.

". . . but I believe a great deal of your frustration may have to do with reality failing to meet the needs of your lofty expectations. You do have a tendency to become aggravated when any serious attempt for emotional conversation changes course into a direction that you wish to avoid. I have read that such examples of emotional rigidity are rather common among prisoners of war."

Lloyd made certain to flatten his expression before turning to look Noah in the eye. "Oh, so it's all about me havin' unfair expectations from other people," The Black Dog flatly replied. "Well, that there's a real eye opener. Bein' a telepath an' all I would have _neeeeeeeever_ managed to deduce that one on me own."

"Well, you said that I hadn't been out on a date in a decade," Noah petulantly snapped back. "I will have you know that only three months ago I had a most tantalizing engagement with an endearing, young yogurt heiress!"

"All right! All right!" Nigel shouted. "Can't be there to separate you lot myself so you'll have to do it on your own. C'mon, boys. Shake hands an' be done wif it."

Lloyd and Noah briefly stared at one another, perhaps contemplating going through with such an unnecessary gesture. However, the both of them soon came to their senses, shook their heads back and forth in order to clear the cobwebs, and returned to the task at hand.

"Well, as I stated previously, Mister Thornton," Noah continued as he swung one leg across the other in order to get more comfortable in his seat, "any assistance you are capable of providing would be most beneficial."

"Ahhhh, think nothin' of it, Brain Guy," Nigel replied from a room in the lower basement of The Rusty Sambo. "Be more than happy to aid you lot even if Vincent didn't give me the Swiss cheese treatment. In fact, guv, I can offer up me place for when you an' Cabrini do ya little transaction in a few days time."

Lloyd shook his head. "Sorry, mate. Too many pryin' eyes about. Still, 'tween the two of us there's bound to be someplace that we know about that Vincent doesn't."

"I can certainly agree with that assessment," Noah broke in. "Though I must admit that I have been privileged enough to avoid any form of interaction with our supposed benefactor, I know enough of her dealings to realize that she has gathered her share of untrustworthy connections."

"Says the man who moonlighted on The Society and used ta run with The Rogues," Nigel added.

"Fine, fine," Noah relented as he threw up his hands. "I will say no more concerning my uncertainty of dealing with your mutual friend, despite all available evidence to the contrary."

"Ah, no worries, Brain Guy!" Nigel assuredly exclaimed. "I know the chit may be a bit rough about the edges but she's an all right bloke."

Noah looked up in order to analyze the digital image of Nigel's round face. "Mister Thornton, please correct me if I am mistaken but I believe that the term 'bloke' is meant to describe a male."

"Well, you are the observant one, aren't ya?" Nigel replied as he crossed his meaty arms across his chest. "An' trust me on this, Brain Guy. Cabrini'd take a line like that as a compliment."

"Well, you would know better than I." Noah admitted. "That being said, I would be greatly appreciative if you refrained from calling me 'Brain Guy'."

"Good to know, Brain Guy," Nigel replied immediately.

"Well, not that I'm not enjoyin' this," Lloyd said as he turned around from the sight of Noah gnashing his molars while stuffing his handkerchief back in his pocket. "But what about the other bit of work we asked ya for, codger?"

"Ya mean sniffin' round my neck of the woods to see if Vincent's interested in roundin' up any more recruits? Didn't get a bit of a whiff, guv. 'Course, my network isn't what it used ta be when I was working with Mister Mao but it really doesn't look like that he's comin' down that avenue again."

Lloyd gave out a weary sigh as he shook his head and rubbed his eyes to momentarily relieve himself of his exhaustion. "Well, can't say as I'm right surprised," the young man admitted. "Still, thanks for the attempt, old man."

Nigel waved his left hand in an unruffled manner. "Like I said, 'm happy to do it. Don't suppose you're interested in givin' Mister Mao a ring about it? I mean, I know the both of ya aren't on tha best of terms."

"I'm lettin' Batman handle that," Lloyd said in a manner so hasty that it was nearly an interruption. "Still think there's a lot I gotta think about 'fore I can be civil with him." The Black Dog let out a chuckle as Nigel and Noah waited for him to continue. "Huh. Guess I'm not the only one waiting for somethin' to happen."

"Ah, a tough road to hoe, that is," Nigel said softly. "Still, can't really blame ya for wantin' to keep your distance from the man. After all, it don't take much for someone to lose their trust in someone else, particularly themselves."

* * *

Wally was suddenly in motion, his acceleration so stifling and sudden that Jay found that the air had been knocked from his lungs. Fluffy snow splattered over the grounds and the few remaining leaves strewn about the brown grass scattered as The Fastest Man Alive rushed towards his chosen destination. Given the ferocity behind the younger man's strides, Jay found himself once again surprised when he discovered that Wally wasn't planning on traveling that far at all. In fact, he seemed to be making a bee line for an aged chestnut tree that stood proudly in the northeastern corner of the cemetery, a good fifty yards from Bart's memorial.

Whatever noise that the unwanted observer exclaimed upon being caught and captured within Wally's firm grip was muted by the calculated havoc that The Flash had inflicted upon the normally quiet cemetery. However, although Jay did not have the opportunity to match a name with a voice, the interloper's bright blonde hair and clown-like yellow-and-blue costume provided more than enough evidence for the old man to realize who just happened to be spying on them.

"What the hell are you doing here, Trickster?!" Wally's voice was caught somewhere between a shout and a hiss, a certainly disconcerting mixture to the ears of the former acrobat turned conman.

The Trickster was born Giovanni Giuseppe, a young man who wiled away his formative years in circus shows and exhibitions through Western Europe before ultimately deciding that a life of crime was far more exhilarating than a live in the center ring. Taking on the alias of James Jesse, his lust for excitement was eventually channeled towards constructing ingenious devices and gadgets such as flight boots and illusion projectors that would help him in his quest to avoid the humdrum. His love for illegal activities eventually lead The Trickster towards many clashes with the various guardians of Central City, first with Barry Allen then with Wally himself.

Of course, Wally already knew all that. What he _didn't _know was the answer to the question he had posed to the stunned Rogue. So he went ahead and asked it again.

Unfortunately, it didn't appear that The Trickster was ready for it. "How. . . how did you?" The temerity in the criminal's voice made it clear that he was still somewhat in shock. "My. . . cloaking. . ."

"How _did_ you see him?" Jay asked as he used a fraction of his own speed in order to move and stand beside the younger speedster.

"Little trick I picked up in the Speed Force, Trickster," Wally said through his hostile grimace. "I can attune my senses to pick up motion waves like the ones you were broadcasting as you tried to slink back to whatever piece of scum that happens to be paying your bills this week! Now, that might sound fascinating to you but I'm more interested in the fact that you still haven't answered my question."

The brief amount of time it took for Wally to explain his accomplishment was also enough time for The Trickster to regain his conceit for the man who had gotten the best of him once again.

"Blow it out your ass, Mister West," he said with a knowing grin. "I don't have to tell you a thing. In fact, all I have to do now is just sit hit and wait 'till you cart me off to jail again." The inventor paused in the midst of his diatribe, raising his eyebrows as a gesture of mockery. "Oh, or maybe you'll have one of your little friends in the Justice League turn me back into one of your puppets! Bet you'd like to have another burden off your shoulders, wouldn't ya?"

There was a sort of frozen moment in time as Jay and Wally let the Rogue's words sink in. Jay may have been the first to break free from it but it was Wally who chose to provide the first response. Wally and The Trickster both began to shake. It began as a barely noticeable trembling but it soon escalating to the point where the two men's bodies seem to blink in and out of sight as if they were ghosts. Despite all the activity, the ground remained perfectly still in the midst of these improbable goings-on, a fact that was not lost upon the three denizens of the quiet burial ground.

"What are you doing, Wally?" Jay asked his colleague with an unstoppable trace of uncertainty.

"You like buildin' stuff that breaks the laws of physics, right Trickster?" Wally asked, seemingly avoiding the old man's question once again. "Well, you should be interested in this because I'm just about ready to show you what happens when you combine my speed with the body of a person that isn't conditioned to deal with it."

"Won't. . . kill me," The Trickster insisted, his blue eyes as wide as saucers as his body continued to shake violently.

"No, I won't kill you, James. But I will snap every bone in your god damned body if you don't tell me who hired you to keep an eye on us!"

"WALLY! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Jay shouted as he worked to pull the somewhat intangible duo apart.

"You're not getting anywhere near them, you hear me?!" Wally shouted as scarlet sparks of lightning whipped around his body. "I won't let you hurt them!"

"WALLY!"

"All right! ALL RIGHT!" The Trickster howled. There was a trickle of blood leaking from his lips, snot sliding down towards his lips. "It was Psycho! Doctor Psycho hired The Rogues to hunt you down. I don't know why! I swear I don't!"

Wally's brow knotted as he tossed the trembling criminal aside. The Trickster's body slid across the snow and grass before coming to a stop upon crashing into the tree that he had once been hiding behind.

"Wally, I can get the JSA to help us out on this." Jay said as he moved to check on The Trickster. "Just give me a second to. . ."

"No, Jay. I can handle this. It's more important that you make sure The Trickster's placed into custody and to see if we can track down Cizko with this."

"You can't be serious, young man!" Jay said incredulously, rising up once he had confirmed that the fallen Rogue wasn't up for making any unexpected escape attempts. "Are you telling me you plan on taking on these Rogues all by yourself?"

"Maybe," Wally replied before speeding away. "Maybe not."

* * *

_The Batcave- Training Facility No. 4_

"Ohm. . . ohm. . . ohm. . ."

Bruce Wayne was a longtime practitioner of Raja Yoga due to its supposed ability to still the turbulent fluctuations inevitably produced by the conscious mind. His accumulated knowledge also told him that part of the successful usage of this ancient form of meditation was to be able to block out any possible source of interfering stimuli.

That being said, Stephanie was driving him up the walls.

"Ohm. . . ohm. . . There's no place like ho-ohm. . ."

"That's enough, Stephanie," Bruce said as he employed a healthy dose of his phenomenal restraint in order to remain calm.

Amazingly, Stephanie responded with a silent nod and resumed the traditional relaxation pose that Bruce had been taught over two decades ago. The effects of the soothing, familiar practice were quick in coming. His muscles began to relax as prodigious amounts of oxygen coursed through the surrounding blood vessels. He could almost feel his own body and spirit righting themselves from the stresses and frustrations of his certainly hectic life.

"Oh. . . wat. . . ahn. . . ast. . . eye. . . ahm. . ."

The Batman tried his hardest to mask his frustration but Robin's impish laughter made it clear that he hadn't fully succeeded.

"Stephanie," he said again with rapidly dwindling serenity. "This form of meditation does not require chanting. As a matter of fact, it doesn't require any talking. _At all_."

"Well, that doesn't sound like much fun," Stephanie pointed out. "In fact, just what are we doing, anyway?"

"This is Raja Yoga," Bruce explained as he finally opened his eyes. "It is a form of Hindustani meditation conceived by Patanjali Maharishi designed to organize and soothe unpleasant thoughts in order to prepare the mind for future endeavors."

"Well, that sounds rather useful right now," Stephanie admitted as The Dark Knight shut his eyes once again. "I mean, we've got a whole bunch of unpleasant sources for unpleasant thoughts right now. There's a whole bunch of new people in the house. We've got that Vincent guy, Zoom, and shit knows what else comin' after us. Lloyd feels bad about Kara, Kara feels bad about herself, and The Flash is bein' a real crimson-garbed prick."

"Stephanie. . ."

"Yeah, boss?"

"I'm already aware of what our problems are," Bruce said simply before taking another deep breath. Stephanie quickly followed suit, her slight but muscular shoulders rising stiffly with the intake of air. "The purpose of this exercise is to put them into focus."

"I know," Stephanie replied. "I know. . ."

"In silence."

"I KNOW!" the young woman irritably barked. "Sheesh!"

The small, carpet-covered dojo was all but wrapped in silence for just over a minute. The only sounds to break the stillness was that of deep breathing and the distant fluttering of bats' wings.

"Why did you come down here anyway?"

Stephanie cracked one of her eyelids open, her green eye soon finding its target at the side of Bruce's head.

"What 'cha mean? Can't a Robin spend some quality time with the Goddamned Batman?"

"I know about how you define quality time, Robin. It means me having to shush you when you make fun of Bullock or when you interrupt me when I'm watching CNN by pretending that it is Mystery Science Theater."

"I still say Wolf Blitzer looks like a salt-and-pepper colored tennis ball."

"So you've said."

"Look," Stephanie finally relented. "It's just that. . . I know that you've done a lot of stuff lately that you probably didn't really feel like doing. You let Lian and Roy stay here, you're trying to honor Mr. Allen's wishes. . . You're even helping Kara try and overcome her weaknesses even though I know that there's a part of you that thinks it's all going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Hmmmm," Bruce grumbled.

Stephanie allowed herself a smile. The inarticulate grunt meant that she had his attention.

"I just wanted to say that you're really cool for doing it. Now, bear in mind that I already know that you don't care what I think about it and you don't have to thank me for saying it because that's not how you roll."

"Hmmmm."

Stephanie could see from the slight tilt of Bruce's shoulders that he was working to get back to his meditation. Still, never one to let a sleeping dog lie, she continued forward.

"I love ya, boss," she said with a grin. "And once again, don't worry. You don't have to say it back unless you _really _want to."

"Good to know."

The young woman nodded in recognition of the fact that her standing business with The Dark Knight now complete.

Then she meditated for 45 minutes just to see if she could piss him off.

* * *

_Interstate 95- 5 miles from Gotham City limits_

"To you. . . it may be old. . . And sort of tumbled down. . . But it means a lot to folks. . . In my hometown. . ."

The glorious baritone of Nat King Cole fluttered from the speakers of the Toyota Camry as it rolled down the sparsely populated interstate. The driver gave off a deep sign of contentment, reclining in his seat as he listened to what he strongly considered to be the greatest crooner of the 20th century. He had always found the singer's vocal stylings to be the perfect source of centering himself before a job, a tranquil choral tableau that was still active enough to keep him in mind of the task at hand. In fact, there were some instances, like now, when he found himself singing along.

"Although I'm rich or poor. . . I still feel sure. . . I'm welcome as the flowers in May. . ."

It was hardly any effort at all to drag the vehicle's previous occupant, a young businessman who had obviously been burning the midnight oil, into his lap. He casually opened the driver's side door as the combination of sweet violins and a flawlessly played piano wafted over him. He slung the body onto the road at 75 miles per hour, not even bothering to watch as the poor corpse's face was mutilated by the impact of skin meeting asphalt.

"It's just a little street. . ." Drakon sang along with the assistance of Mr. Cole, "Where old friends meet. . . And treat you in the same old way. . ."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

You know, it's recently come to my attention that being a teacher, a graduate student, and a social skills facilitator doesn't exactly create a good environment to work on your fan fiction. Then again, I've also found that dealing with the insanity of real life can provide some kick-ass fodder for writing about make believe people so I guess it cuts both ways.

As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed (because, let's face facts, there ain't much reason to do this if someone ain't readin' it). Hope you enjoyed the chapter because I enjoyed writing it. And, just to show you how much I enjoy this labor, I'm going to go one step further and give you a chapter preview just 'cause I'm cool like that! Aren't I? Right?

* * *

Issue #54 Preview

Well, well. Now things are beginning to heat up a little again. We've got The Rogues after Wally, a height lacking assassin gunning for Roy, and both of these potential confrontations may cause another stir up at Wayne Manor? Also, exactly why is Kara Zor-el hanging out with someone who's known to be born on a Monday? All this and Stephanie vs. Wally in the next installment of The Misfits: Downtime Dilemmas. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	54. Downtime Dilemmas

Issue #54

Downtime Dilemmas

Roy wasn't certain why he thought the twirling of his revolvers seemed to sound so much sweeter within the quiet confines of The Batcave. Maybe it was just the cramped confines that made the _clicks _and _whirls_appear so distinctive and enticing. The differences may have sounded silly to some but the fact remains that it is the first job of a marksman to know their environment, to observe and respond to any stimuli that could potentially interfere with the tiny world between them and the target. It is that quality, among all others, that allows a sharpshooter to remain the hunter instead of the hunted.

Of course, the combination of giddy anticipation and a triple espresso may also have had something to do with it.

"Hot damn," Arsenal exclaimed as he finished up his ostentatious display of dexterity. "Gentleman, I think it is safe to say that I am back in the game."

"Really?" Noah scoffed from his computer chair. "Because you have a price on your head?"

"Hell yeah," Roy heartily replied as he slid the revolver in his left hand back into its holster. "Nobody's gonna want you dead unless you're somebody worth worryin' about." The former junior partner of Oliver Queen turned to see the skeptical look in Noah's eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "And besides, it's been a while since somebody wanted to kill me."

"Well," Noah said thoughtfully after taking a sip from his cup of coffee, "I wish someone would have informed me of the honor behind this particular occasion. I imagine I would have taken a great deal more pride in my previous mortifying dilemma had I been notified about how to properly diagnose it."

Roy paused, quirking his head for a moment before the figurative light bulb sparked to life. "Ah yeah, you're talkin' about that thing with Talia, right? How much did that eventually get up to?"

"I believe the highest monetary offer was 13 million dollars," The Calculator replied as he swerved his chair around in order to face the main monitor once again. "However, The Black Dog tells me that a tribe of Adalusian goat demons were offering the soul of their virgin princess as a reward for my apprehension. Had something to do with a 3000-year-old virility ritual, I believe."

"Is that right?" Arsenal asked calmly. "And I don't suppose that the bounty is still open, is it?"

"What? The virgin princess?" Noah asked while crinkling his nose.

"The _cash_ bounty."

"Ah. No, Mr. Harper, it is not."

"Damn." Roy administered another once over of the barrel of his unholstered revolver before sliding it back to its normal place upon his belt. "For a second there I thought I just found a nice way to start up Lian's college fund."

"My apologies for disappointing you," Noah replied without bothering to turn around.

"Ah, that's okay. So did Wall-eye get any hint on just who is comin' after me?"

"Actually we have to thank Mister J'onnz for providing that particular tidbit of information," Noah answered as he began to tap away at his keyboard. "According to the now incarcerated Mister Giuseppe, it appears that you are currently being pursued by a man named Constantine Drakon."

Roy bit back a curse as a mug shot of the diminutive, Greek-born assassin appeared on the main monitor. "Well, ain't that just a shit pickle," he remarked, once again revealing his pressing inability to stifle his more instinctual responses.

"I must confess that I am not very well versed in regards to the man's abilities or exploits," Noah admitted. "Judging from your kind words, I'm guessing that you may have a great deal more to offer upon the matter."

"Not that much more." Roy replied while keeping his eyes locked onto the image of the calm assassin. "He was hired to do a little wet work for some company that Ollie was investigating a couple years back. Bastard spent the next couple weeks entertainin' himself by beating the hell out of everybody in Star City with a bow and arrow. Broke Mia's arm, cracked half of Connor's rib cage, and killed Ollie's girlfriend of the week right before crucifying the old man with his own arrows."

"Well," Noah said, taken slightly aback. "I suppose the man should be acknowledged for his efficiency if not for his manners."

"Oh yeah," Roy darkly answered as he craned his neck up about 30 degrees. "He even got around to slitting my throat before dragging me off to get my ass kicked by The Riddler." He slid the tip of his right index finger across a pinkish scar that ran along the skin that protected his trachea.

"He also happens to be one of the most skilled martial artists on the planet and a master of over a dozen forms of armed and unarmed combat."

Noah and Roy both swerved around to catch The Batman striding towards them. The absence of the imposing ebony cape around the older vigilante's shoulders was a clear sign that the detective was only partially through his patrol preparations. The Dark Knight continued to move closer while the hacker calmly returned to his computer screen and the sharpshooter shook his head in mild disbelief.

Bruce gave no heed to Harper's display of incredulity and looked squarely into the eyes of the former Teen Titan. "However, the most important matter at hand is the question of how you plan on dealing with him."

Though some may have been quite surprised, Roy had little trouble with weathering the penetrating glare.

"I didn't realize that the ball was in my court."

"Then you should have known better," Batman replied. He then swept past Harper as he moved to collect a case file perched upon a file cabinet that was standing perpendicular to Noah's work station. When he spoke again, he had returned to his rich tradition of speaking with his back turned towards the person he was speaking to. "If you have so little faith in your own capabilities then feel free to take your daughter and return to San Francisco."

Roy found that he had to take a moment or two to shake his head back and forth, chuckling all the while. "Yeah. You're right. Definitely should have known better. Still, that doesn't mean I'm about to deny my daughter the right to have a kick-ass continental breakfast in the morning."

"How refreshing to see that you have your priorities straight, Mister Harper." The Batman snapped the manila folder shut before turning around to face Roy once again. "So, now that you have that squared away, I'll ask you for the second and final time. What do you want do here?"

"You just make certain that Lian's kept safe." There wasn't a trace of mirth left on Harper's face as he stared down The Batman straight on. "I'll handle the rest." _I need to handle the rest_, he added, if only to himself.

Batman's nod was also devoid of any of the preexisting good humor. "Your daughter will be safe. You have my word on that. I'm also making certain that both Robin and The Black Dog will be able to reach you within a moment's notice."

"Good to know," Roy admitted. He was prepared to make one final trip to the nearby armory before the sound of harsh, heavy footsteps turned his attention back towards the stairwell. He found himself sucking air through his teeth as he watched Wally descend down the well-fashioned bedrock and make his way towards the center of The Batcave. There wasn't any way of avoiding the look of stern determination in his friend's eyes, so much so that it almost seemed downright farcical in the eyes of the marksman.

"I need to know the current whereabouts of The Rogues," Wally informed the three of them, the thought of saying hello seemingly nowhere in sight. "Now, if not sooner."

"I already have the information at hand, Mister West," Noah said with a smile as his fingertips once again fluttered across his keyboard. "Now, please bear in mind that the information I've gathered only pertains to the people that The Trickster was able to identify during J'onn's questioning so this may very well not be a complete list. . ."

"Good to know," Wally interrupted while moving past both Arsenal and Batman without a word. It almost seemed as if the speedster was going to shove Noah aside as he moved to take a closer look but The Calculator managed to move aside as Wally stared at the screen that had filled up with pictures of people who were looking to kill him. The longer he gazed at the images, the firmer the scowl on his face became.

While his friend was staring at the screen, Roy took a moment to stare at the back of Wally's head. He then turned his attentions to Batman, who happened to be looking back at him, his arms calmly crossed across his chest. The response only added more fuel to the fire of Roy's confusion before another realization provided him with a fire extinguisher.

_Well, looks like the psychotic killer midget isn't the only ball I get to juggle tonight._

"You know, Wally," Roy began as he took a step forward, "most people tend to thank someone that goes through the trouble to help them out when they don't really have to. I mean, I know it's been a while since you've been hanging around human folk but. . ."

"There are lives on the line here, Roy," Wally said with a sarcastic note of weariness. "I'm here for information. Not for the person who's providing it."

"What the fu. . ." Roy spurted out before managing to cut his frustrations short. "C.C., man, I'm sorry about that. I didn't think that. . ."

"That's quite all right, Mister Harper," Noah said, cutting the muffled apology short. "After all, I have a great deal of experience when it comes to enduring overly stressed employers."

"Yeah, well, HOLD UP, MAN!" Roy replied as he put himself into Wally's path out of The Batcave. "Just relax for a second. We've got to get the whole team in on this! Doc Psycho and that Vincent guy are sendin' these people after us for a reason!"

"I've handled The Rogues by myself before," Wally said, his green eyes narrowing dangerously. "And I'll do it again."

"This is not just The Rogues, Flash," Batman said to Wally's back, his tone seemingly neutral. "We are dealing with The Silver Coyote, Zolomon, The White Martians, and anyone else that they have managed to recruit to their cause. And if you are going to be part of this team then you will have to remember that our principle goal is to ensure one another's safety."

"Who the hell said I was on your team?" Wally asked as he used a fraction of his speed to shrug Roy's grip off of his shoulders.

Roy made no initial effort to restrain his friend any further, instead choosing to turn back to The Batman and make a silent plea. However, he was once again denied as the grizzled vigilante remained silent. Wally was now halfway up the stairwell but the single father took another moment to compose himself just to be safe. Finally, he pushed himself forward, a determined look in his eyes as he took his shot.

"Hey! Don't suppose you're gonna say hey to your wife before you go running off again, are ya?" He knew that he was taking a risk by picking this particular bullet but, quite frankly, the whole scenario was just pissing him off. "Y'know, 'cause I figure it would be a good idea, seein' as you haven't dropped by to see her or the kids for goin' on about thirty hours now."

Roy blew in a breath as his friend paused at the top of the stairwell, his shoulders tensing for a moment. In a precaution that was not entirely humorous, he positioned his hands palms-forward in a traditional Karate stance. Yes, he was aware that he wouldn't be capable of defending himself from his old friend even if the need did arise but the sharpshooter felt that there was no harm in making the effort.

"I've had a long, bad day, Roy," Wally informed his cautious compatriot while continuing his ascent. "The last thing I need right now is a lecture about responsibility from you."

Arsenal fought back the urge to groan and settled for rolling his eyes as Wally phased through the passageway connecting The Batcave to Wayne Manor. He then rubbed the fingers of his right hand across the bridge of his nose before turning to his audience.

"Bats, you gotta tell me. You would know. Are they ever gonna get tired of throwin' that same, tired line at me?"

"Hope springs eternal, Mister Harper," replied the Dark Knight of Gotham.

Roy let out a chuckle. "Kind of surprised you didn't break in there," he admitted.

Batman pushed himself off from the filing cabinet that he had been leaning upon before he replied. "I figured Wally would have been better off hearing it from you."

Roy pushed the tip of his tongue against his left cheek as he thought it over. "Yeah, I guess I can see that. Just be sure to keep an eye on him, all right? I mean, you know him. . . You know what he's thinkin' about."

"I do," Batman assured him. "I'll be sure to take care of it. You just focus on Drakon."

"Will do," Roy replied with a mock salute as he made his way to the expansive garage. He was rolling his neck muscles about in slow circles when he was stopped in his tracks again.

"Harper!" barked The Batman.

"Yeah?" Roy asked while continuing his stretching.

"This is your time, Roy, starting right now."

The former Speedy responded with a hunter's grin. The fact that he had his back turned prevented the smirk from being seen by its intended target but Harper was relatively certain that the detective was smart enough to know what was there.

"Howz about tellin' me something I don't know, Bats."

* * *

_Venice_

Those who have traveled to this keystone of history over the course of the last two millennia have come here for a variety of reasons. More than a handful of them have chosen to come here to witness the glory of a winter sunset while perched upon the Rialto. Others have chosen to observe the sweeping architectural majesty along the Piazza San Marco or to explore the watery underbelly of the city's sestieris upon motorized waterbuses or even weathered gondolas. Some come for the romance, the history, the culture but regardless of the whys behind the intentions of Venice's many visitors, one of the few shared objectives of these many travelers is the desire to avoid the city's centuries-old sewer system.

Yet this is where Kara Zor-el has chosen to go. To find a nine-foot tall, muscle bound murderous zombie no less.

The history of the monster known as Solomon Grundy was as frayed as the clothing draped over the creature's pale, decayed flesh and muscle. Some believe that he is the reanimated corpse of Cyrus Gold, a 19th century, Gotham-born merchant who had been viciously murdered and revived by magic to serve as some supernatural symbol for violence that served no meaning. Others consider him to be the beast that had inspired James Orchard Halliwell to write a nursery rhyme telling the story of a man who lived and died in a week's time, a tale that was written decades before Gold's birth. Regardless of what anyone happened to believe, the fact remained that Grundy was a beast, a creature of mindless strength and endurance that was more than a match for any crime fighter or warrior.

Plus he didn't do a lot of talking when he fought. Which, as far as Kara was concerned, was just what she needed right now.

She made certain to keep the battle close to avoid any undue damage to the surrounding brick and stone. Counters, holds, and takedowns had taken the place of stiff kicks and vicious right crosses in order to limit the possibility of destroying the structural system that had kept much of Venice above sea level for several centuries. The half-Kryptonian tried to feel good about these acts of prudent behavior but the nagging fact remained that she could have put more thought into all of this. That irritating bit of information continued to snap at her as she recognized that she would never be able to wear her favorite pair of jeans again after tromping through all this filth.

Even within the confined, makeshift arena, Kara could have easily used her speed to avoid many of the swooping haymakers that Grundy laid down upon her head, gut, and shoulders. However, she weathered the blows willingly, relishing in the adrenaline that flowed through her body with each small dose of discomfort. She knew that she could take that discomfort and turn it into strength. She needed that certainty, the knowledge that she could fight back. Yes, _she could fight back_.

Grundy locked his long, ashen fingers, bringing his fists down upon her with a double-handed smash. She blocked the blow with ease, holding the monster's enormous fists within her small hands. The gargantuan zombie revealed his frustrations with a low, savage growl punctuated by a putrefied stench that seemed to rise from the monster's throat. The combination of the stench and Kara's enhanced senses was phenomenally potent but the blonde-haired heroine managed to coolly respond with an almost feral smile.

"SOLOMON GRUNDY! BORN ON A MONDAY!" the creature bellowed.

"Yeah? Too bloody bad it's a Friday."

Both beauty and beast turned to see the smirk on Lloyd's lips as he watched the both of them in return. His dark, amber-colored DMs were almost hidden from view due to the state of the sewer water they were wading in and the combination of the low-lighting and the dark clothing he normally wore made his lightly tanned face seem almost spectral. Kara couldn't help but feel the momentary fluttering in her gut before a combination of anger, pride, and surprise beat the anticipation down until it could be replaced with uncomfortable hostility that stood on her face as clear as day. Grundy, on the other hand, now being coerced by a combination of telepathic prompting and his own uncontrolled anger, reacted to Lloyd's presence with decidedly less polarity.

"Come on then, beastie," Lloyd said, needling the zombie's primordial instincts even further. "How about you leave the lady alone, yeah? Let's you and me 'ave a go."

The enormous zombie needed no further convincing. He charged at Lloyd, his massive arms swinging back and forth as his bare feet slashed through the water below him. The roar that emanated from the beast's lungs played havoc with Kara's eardrums and shook the water with even more force as Grundy closed the 8-meter gap between himself and his new quarry within a matter of seconds. While the zombie raced forward, Kara lifted her feet off the ground, momentarily tempted to intercept Grundy and cut off the creature's path but the instinct was quickly stifled, the young woman choosing instead to stew in her own irritation.

Lloyd's smirk finally fades away when Grundy's right fist is inches from his jaw, his thin face adopting a flat, almost bored countenance as he dodged the brute's initial attack with ease. The zombie's next string of assaults were avoided with equally little effort as the young man swerved and twisted around the enormous arms as if he truly were some haunting apparition. To his half-hearted credit, the beast did not seem the least bit discouraged by his futility, continuing to lash at his now hated foe with hooks and uppercuts that would have shattered the surrounding brick and stone into powder had Lloyd allowed them to connect with nothing but air.

As one would have anticipated, the brief skirmish ended with a whimper rather than a bang. Teleporting behind his foe as the zombie came at him with a full-out bull charge, Lloyd leapt onto Grundy's back with just enough force and precision to allow the beast to momentarily stumble before crashing face-first into the malodorous stream. While the beast spent a precious moment recovering from his surprise, Lloyd began to murmur an incantation while pressing the palm of his left hand against the creature's trapezius. A gray mist seemed to bubble from the long, lean arms of The Black Dog as the zombie's struggling quickly began to lessen before fading altogether.

"Sileo in pacis," Lloyd whispered as he rose to his feet once again, "vos penuriosus animus."

The victor took a moment to take a breath before launching himself into what he figured to be the true confrontation of the day. After all, the absolute last thing The Black Dog needed at the moment was to go and make another mistake in the midst of what was already a difficult situation. It was truly a wise decision for a young man so inexperienced with the ways of the heart, so much so that perhaps he could be forgiven for the stupidity he had demonstrated beforehand.

However, it appeared that, judging from the phenomenally perturbed glow in Kara's crystalline eyes, the idea of forgiveness was not on the menu of the object of Lloyd's affection.

"What did you do to him?" Kara asked, a calm hint of anger in her voice going along with an obvious tensing of her chin and upper arms.

"I. . ." Lloyd stumbled. "Grundy is, e's animated by magic. 'S what keeps 'im alive so I figured if I took it away from 'im." The hasty explanation didn't appear to be doing anything to appease Kara's anger so he decided to keep it short. "I took away the magic that kept him active. 'S all dead energy so as long as I properly release it then it'll just dissolve away. That way I won't start any day off with a round o' brain eatin'."

The Black Dog, a young man feared by villains and outer worldly monstrosities alike, self-consciously lapsed into a round of half-hearted chuckling, desperately hoping that Kara would join in.

She didn't.

"I didn't need your help."

"Yeah, well maybe Venice did." Kara's blunt anger seemed to jog Lloyd's bravery back to life. Unfortunately, its choice of direction could have done with a tune-up. "Chasin' down a beastie as strong as Grundy into a place where people could get hurt. Y'know Bats and I taught you better than that!"

"I spent an hour-and-a-half waiting for Grundy to a get to a place where I could take him on without trying to get somebody hurt," Kara growled. "I had everything under control."

Lloyd let out a snarl that effectively countered the sour grimace on Kara's face. "Yeah, 'cause jettin' halfway across the world to take on a beastie for no sane reason just screams sound behavioral management! I mean, the reason The Martian's keepin' an eye on this bloke is so the JLA or someone else can take care o' 'im, not people like us who can't afford to be seen in public."

"And if Grundy did get angry then he could have leveled half this city by the time anybody from the Justice League even shows up!" Kara shouted back. "This has to do with safety, not with my 'behavioral management'," she added.

"No, 's got _everything_ to do with it!" Lloyd fired back. "'Cause whenever you get hacked off about somethin' you go searchin' for a fight to make yourself feel better. This time though, instead of comin' to me for it, you're goin' out lookin' for somebody else for some reason you're not even botherin' to tell me about."

"Why do you always think that everything is about you?" Kara's response was nothing but a hiss. When she spoke again, it was with the same amount of anger but with a great deal more volume. "I told you to just leave me alone for a little while! Why can't you just listen to me?"

"Then give me a soddin' reason to listen!" Lloyd cried back, throwing his arms to his sides in frustration. "Jus' give me one bloody reason why, after almost two years of fightin' together, learnin' together, and confidin' in each other that I shouldn't be worried when you don't want to talk to me."

The unsentimental countenance that Kara had chosen to bring to the table cracked for a fraction of a second before reassuming itself, a sure sign that someone was about to make the wrong decision.

"Just leave me alone," she said miserably. She levitated about a foot off the ground, her x-ray vision already showing her the quickest way out of the sewers. She flew away at a modest clip, using everything she could muster to resist the urge to turn around.

"What did I do wrong?"

It was a whisper, the barest of whispers, but Kara had no trouble hearing it. She resisted the urge to burst through the cobblestones above her and clambered up a ladder that would lead her to the surface. Another few minutes passed before Kara could find a safe enough spot to take to the skies without the presence of any prying eyes. By the time she was in the sky, a new message had replaced the silent reminders of proper combat locations and the state of her favorite clothes.

_He's been hurt by everybody he's ever known._

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

Much like he had been earlier in the day, Wally was officially tired of running into interruptions.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly what he was about to do.

"Old McFartfart had a farm," it sang, "E-I-E-I-O. And on that farm he had some beans. E-I-E-I-O. With a. . ."

The Fastest Man Alive gave off a weary sigh as Stephanie let out a series of fart sounds that soon had his children in hysterics. He then walked into the large space that had become the kid's room to see the room aglow with the image of a green, overall-clad, pot-bellied farmer who appeared to be struggling with a great many minor indigestion problems. The addition of a familiar, All-American jaw line and an ever-present black spit curl to the unflattering image told Wally all he needed to know about the source of the Green Lantern's inspirations.

"DADDY!"

The unpleasant sounds bubbling from Stephanie's lips came to a halt as Jai slowly clambered to his feet and rushed to his father as fast as his ungainly strides could take him. Wally quickly closed the distance in a hurry for fear that Jai would stumble and fall in the rush to get to him, picking the child up by his armpits the moment he was within reaching distance. He rubbed his nose and forehead against his child's tiny cheek, fighting to subdue a shudder as he felt his child's pudgy arms trying their best to wrap around his neck.

It only took a second or two for Wally to see that Iris remained cradled in Stephanie's arms. She didn't appear to be making any effort to try and break free. It took even less time to see the look in his daughter's eyes and how it seemed to nearly match the look on the face of Bruce's latest Robin.

"Why look, Iris. It's your dad," Stephanie pointed out as she bounced the toddler in her strong arms. "He's been gone for a while though, hasn't he? In fact, I'm surprised we can even remember him."

Wally pressed his hand against Jai's back, pushing him forward so he wouldn't have to see just how the young woman's comment had irked him.

"I'd like to thank you for looking after them," Wally said without a hint of gratitude. "In fact, just give me a little time with these munchkins and I'll come and find you."

There was a glimmer in Stephanie's eyes as she gently sent Iris down onto the floor, ruffling the little girl's hair as she did so.

"Fine by me," she said as she strolled out of the room.

* * *

_Gotham City- the corner of Macon and 152__nd__ Avenue_

_I'd like to point out, just in case you weren't really sure about it, that I hate this._

Roy smirked as he and Cissie continued walking down the street, their composure and wardrobe making them appear as if they were out on a leisurely stroll.

_I hate this outfit that I'm wearing, I hate the fact that I got dragged out of bed and out of my hangover after just six hours of sleep, and I particularly hate __**you**_

Those were the thoughts tumbling from Arrowette's head as she dug the toes of her boots against the cement sidewalk. Roy knew this thanks to the telepathic mind link that J'onn and Lloyd had fashioned for them.

"_Aw, come on_," Roy thought back to his antsy fellow marksperson. _"You can't have that bad of a hangover if you're walkin' around like this. How many drinks did you have at that bar anyway?"_

"_I don't really know. I think about four or five of those big drinks. . . THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Cecilia snapped. "The point is that I'm an 18-year-old with a hangover and the rules say that we should be allowed a minimum of ten hours of sleep after a night of excessive drinking."_

"_The rules also say that an 18-year-old shouldn't be drinking in America in the first place_," Roy merrily reminded the fair-haired archer.

"_Oh, like you never did any underage drinking, Speedy the Puritan. And besides, I think the law would also look down on us for snooping around crime scenes like this."_

"_As far as anyone else knows," _Roy thought as he slumped his hands into his pockets, _"we're just two people looking around some of their old haunts. And if these old haunts just happen to be close to the place where Noah says that Drakon is shacking up then it's just a bizarre coincidence."_

"_Yeah, well I still think all this plottin' and plannin' is just a dumb excuse to drag me out of bed when I should be sleeping. Lloyd was right when he said I should have looked over my imaginary contract. I didn't sign up for this to be the bait for some half-cracked, Napoleonic contract killer."_

"_There's no way you could be that hung over," _Roy interrupted. _"That was way too verbose of a reply for any sloshed person to accomplish."_

"_Well, then how's about standing still and seein' if I'm sober enough to shoot an arrow up yer ass!" _the female archer replied. _"An' why are we goin' through all of this anyway? Why not just have Lloyd or Steph beat this guy down and string him up in Blackgate for a hood ornament?"_

"'_Cause this is somethin' I've got to do for myself, Cissers."_

Arrowette snorted, the first vocal response that either of them had uttered for three blocks.

"Sounds like another round of dick wavin' to me."

The two of them chattered about nothing as they made their way into an abandoned tenement complex that Batman and Cecilia had raided only 10 days ago in search of a shipment of cocaine that had been rushed away from a warehouse alongside Gotham Harbor. As they were doing so, a third figure emerged from his hiding place across the street. Smoothing his goatee with his short, bony fingers, he followed the both of them inside.

* * *

"I want you to stay away from Jai and Iris," Wally told the smirking Green Lantern. 

Stephanie quirked her head to one side, adopting a look that appeared as if she were truly considering the offer.

"Hmmm, let me think," she said as she rubbed her fingers against her chin. "Uh, no."

"They're my kids. Not yours."

"Yeah, and they're Linda's children too!" Stephanie slid off the piano serving as her makeshift chair and took a few steps toward the agitated father. "You remember Linda, right? She was the one who stood by you for a couple years while you were going through your_issues_." Robin threw in some air quotes with the last word just because she knew how irritating they were. "She also happened to say that she was really happy about all the time I was spending with them. Of course, I don't really know why she said it though. Maybe it was because her husband's been spending the last two weeks avoidin' em."

"Don't you _DARE_say that I don't care about my children!" Wally shouted back while taking a few steps forward himself until he and Stephanie were nearly nose-to-nose. "You don't know a thing about me!"

"Yeah, well I know about who you used to be," Stephanie said coolly. "Dickie told me _all_about you. You were the guy that used his speed to clean every window on The Watchtower just to see the look on Batman's face when you told him what you did. You were the nice guy. You were the _normal_guy who would get scared, get happy, get bizarre, and get humble because you knew you had to do something just to keep on being somebody that everybody could rely on. But you're not that guy anymore, are ya? Or maybe it's just that you don't think you can be?"

Stephanie scooted forward a couple of inches. She knew that it was just enough to make her sickly sweet smile even more irritating to its recipient.

"And, just in case that didn't make enough sense," she concluded, "I'll just ask a simple question. At what point in your life did you suddenly decide to become an asshole?"

"When did I become an asshole?!" Wally parroted back with a snarl. "Well, seeing as how you're the understudy of the master detective, how about you go and just tell me!"

"I already know the answer, Marlin. I just want you to have the guts to tell it to me. Hell, tell it to everyone."

Wally was already stomping away from the grinning young woman, phasing through the door just to make his exit that much quicker.

"It's all about cleansing here at Wayne Manor, Mister West!" Stephanie shouted. "Ya better get with the program, yo!"

* * *

_Keystone City- The Flash Museum_

Wally couldn't remember just when he began to hate this place. However, he was able to recognize some of the reasons why he did. The gauche architecture and the grand standing nature of the museum, the things that he would have never admitted to liking back when he was a teenager, had irked and nipped at his senses for years now. The attention it brought to him was another burden that had become increasingly difficult to bear as time wore on and the number of people he truly knew began to dwindle.

The frequent super villain break-ins were quite the pain in the ass too.

However, none of those reasons were what started what had become a downhill spiral of resentment intended for this place. The source of that was all around him. It was the clippings of newspaper articles about Jay and Uncle Barry, the statues commemorating Bart, Barry, Max, and Johnny Quick. So many people had visited this place, read the stories, watched the films, and stared at the statues and none of them had any idea why the people that were being honored truly deserved it.

As far as he was concerned, his Uncle Barry didn't deserve to have a 10-foot golden statue of him standing in the center of the main hall because he saved the planet a dozen times over. He deserved it because he tried to see something good in everybody that he ever met. Because he coaxed a shy, young boy away from his own little world and tried to turn him into something extraordinary. Because he taught him how to find a good fishing hole even when it looked like there wasn't anything your bait would hook for miles.

The fact that Wally hadn't gotten any sleep in nearly two days began to show as he slumped down at the base of a bronzed statue of Johnny Quick.

"Everybody wants me to be a hero," he said to no one in particular. "And soon, in about 15 years from now, somebody's gonna be knocking on Jai and Iris's doors telling them that it's time to go be heroes too. God, and I don't even know if I'm going to be around to tell them whether or not they should."

The Fastest Man Alive let out a fatigued sob as he slid the upper part of his mask up off his forehead. He smoothed his hair with his other hand, the downward path continuing until he could slide his fingers down around the tip of his nose. He grasped onto the bit of flesh and bone, searching for a point of contact before breaking his grip with a sigh.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

_Movement_.

Wally's eyes widened. His leg muscles tensed as he sprung up to his feet.

_Multiple targets. No set course of motion. Teleportation._

Wally could hear the condescending laughter even before he was able to slide his mask back down over his eyes. He recognized the source of the dark-tempered mirth as well as all the other faces of the people that had managed to surround him. In fact, he not only knew the names of the people who were out for his blood but also happened to remember the monikers that each of them had chosen for themselves.

Mirror Master. The Weather Wizard. Abra Kadabra. Heat Wave. Inertia. Double Down. Tarpit. Cobalt Blue. Girder. Captain Cold.

They were The Rogues.

"Hey, Wally. It's been a while, huh?" asked Captain Cold, his freeze ray pointed directly at Wally's heart.

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

As my review count stretches past the 300 mark, I would like to thank everyone who continues to provide me with ego-nourishing feedback and works to develop my ever-diminishing self-esteem. On the other hand, I can't help but notice that there are three Batman stories on this particular site that has more reviews on this site than mine. This, my friends, will not stand. So you better keep cranking out those reviews or I just may hand over the reins to Judd Winick. Don't say I didn't warn you!!

All right, I'm done with my rambling. You know I tend to get a little nonsensical when the end of the chapter rolls around.

First of all, mad props to Brian Michael Bendis and his work on New Avengers #38. Say what you want about his slug-like pacing but the confrontation between Luke Cage and Jessica Jones either took a lot of patience or a lot of balls to push forward. After all, he's the guy who spent years building up the relationship in the first place. To break it up like that in a way that made it seem real and fleshy is just the kind of stuff that makes me proud (or at least socially able) to be a comic book fan and proud that I rip off a lot of the elements of his writing style. Yes, I'm basically saying that I'm proud of the person I'm stealing from. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And speaking of my story, here's the preview for the next chapter of, well, my story.

* * *

Issue #55 Preview 

About damn time we got to some action, wasn't it? We've got a tired Flash taking on 10 Rogues, Roy Harper going one-on-one with Constantine Drakon, and the rest of our lovable Misfits are working to make sure that the team's newest recruits aren't in body bags by the time Alfred puts dinner on the table. Tune in for the mayhem in the next installment of The Misfits: Breaking In, Breaking Out. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	55. Breaking In, Breaking Out

Issue #55

Breaking In, Breaking Out

_Gotham – Maconview Apartment Complex – Room #326_

"Are you sure about this?" Cissie had to raise her voice significantly in order to be heard over the sound of Drakon's bare feet pounding across the dusty, wooden floor.

"YES! For the last time I'm absolutely sure!" Roy yelled back as he twisted around a disturbingly fast thrust kick in order to get into a good spot to counterattack. "Get the hell out of here!"

"You might want to ignore that bit of advice," Drakon said coolly as he took several steps back from the skirmish. Despite having been part of a rather frenetic chase throughout the three bedroom complex, the undersized contract killer didn't appear to be the least bit frazzled as he plucked his sunglasses off of the bridge of his nose. "I don't know if you're aware of this, young lady, but Mister Harper here has a rich tradition of overestimating his own talents."

Drakon easily withstood the heat of Roy's glare as he smoothly placed his thin, custom model Wayfarers into the pocket of his cobalt blue vest. "Of course, I'd rather hope that you stayed as well," he offered as he turned to meet Cecilia's scowl. "It's been a while since I've run into a Robin Hood impersonator that I haven't already humiliated."

Arrowette gnashed her teeth. "Oh, hell no! I'm staying. C'mon Roy, let's take this guy out!"

"Same amusing stupidity," Drakon whispered as his opponent turned his attention to the annoyed archer.

"Get out of here," Roy repeated, his even voice laced with soft determination. "I told you. I need to handle this on my own."

"Well, this here is a rarity," Drakon remarked as he took a moment to admire the dilapidated state of the apartment's living room. "I've never been able to watch someone sign their own death certificate."

"NOW, Arrowette!" Arsenal yelled again.

Cissie needed another moment to shift her gaze from Roy to Drakon. Then she focused her attention on a damp spot in the far northeastern corner of the room just because she needed somewhere to look. Finally, she turned back to Roy.

"All right. I'll go." Cissie relented. "Just be careful."

Drakon and Roy kept their eyes on each other as Arrowette made her way to the windowsill that would take her to the fire escape. It was only a matter of moments before the sound of a launching zip line originated from the metal stairwell. After another handful of quiet seconds, the two gentlemen were alone.

"I would have thought that you'd have had the presence of mind to learn from your mistakes, Mister Harper." Drakon gently clasped his right wrist with his left hand and began to lazily stretch the muscles around his metatarsals. "Granted, I knew that you were never the sharpest knife in the figurative drawer. . ."

"Oh, I've done a bit of learnin'," Roy replied. "Of course, that doesn't mean that I've still got something to prove."

Drakon quirked his head, obviously intrigued by his opponent's words, before he gave Roy a slow nod. "I suppose that's fair enough. Well, now that you've raised my interests, just who is the person that you're so desperate to prove your worth too? That irritating fop with the goatee? Your daughter?"

"Me," Roy said abruptly, his voice as cold as he could unconsciously muster. "I'm doing this for me."

"Huh," Drakon replied as he tilted his lips upwards. "Well, I guess something like that's to be respected," he admitted. "Doesn't mean that I won't kill you but I suppose I can take a bit of pride from doin' it now."

Roy found himself involuntarily gasping in surprise as the goateed fighting master sprung at him like a cheetah. Despite his momentary stagger, he managed to parry Drakon's opening palm thrust before tilting his body to the left to dodge the right jab aimed for his Adam's apple. His shift in stance enabled him to not only avoid the caving in of his throat but also allowed him to catch the incoming kick that threatened to crack the left half of his rib cage. Drakon was quick to counter Roy's defense as well, freeing himself from Arsenal's clutches with a rolling side somersault that allowed him to push the ball of his right foot into Roy's torso.

The kick may have been the first successful strike of the fight but the time it took for Drakon to roll to his feet was enough for Roy to make a forward rush and go on the offensive. However, his own assault, a combination of simple punches and Atemi-waza strikes and feints, paled in comparison to what Drakon had to offer to him only moments earlier. It didn't take long at all for Arsenal to realize the futility of his offense as he quickly changed his tactics from causing Drakon harm to making certain Drakon didn't harm him in return. He spent the next handful of seconds employing his significant advantage in reach, gnashing his teeth as Drakon easily swerved under and around every attack.

Roy broke from the engagement with a cartwheel and a graceful back somersault that rattled the aged floorboards he landed on. A small cloud of dust wafted off his boot-covered feet as he placed himself within another defensive stance.

Drakon chuckled.

"Didn't think you'd do this well, kiddo," the assassin confessed.

Roy snorted. Memories of all-night training sessions with agents of Checkmate, friendly sparring with Dinah, and other, more stressful memories flashed through the sharpshooter's mind as he watched Drakon lower himself into a traditional Savate stance. "Well, quite frankly. . . I didn't expect that much out of me either."

Drakon's smile grew even wider as he raised his hands up to heart level. Both Arsenal and Drakon knew that it would only take a heartbeat for the tiny assassin to close the distance between them.

Arsenal smiled.

"Of course," he continued, "that's why I brought these along. . ."

Drakon let out a muffled curse as he abruptly broke his stance so he could dodge the first two shots from Roy's customized revolvers with a leaping roll. Knowing he didn't have enough time to extend his legs, he launched himself into an ungainly, leapfrog style jump to dodge shots three and four. His embarrassing evasive maneuvers finally came to a head as another side roll placed him within the protective confines of a hallway, a position that allowed him to gnash his teeth as shot number five came within inches of his left kneecap. Spinning to his feet, the agile hired gun sprinted down the hallway and into one of the side rooms before Arsenal could fire another shot.

"You are one lucky son of a bitch, Constantine Drakon," Roy said as he paused to carefully gander down the aforementioned hallway. "I haven't missed that many shots in a row since the last time I tried to play Drunk Galaga." He took some lazy steps down the hallway, tapping the barrel of one of his guns against the wall that was keeping him from his target. _Too well supported_, he deduced, _no way the capsules'll break through that_. As he continued to lope down the corridor, he could hear Drakon tutting.

"Can't say that I'm not a little disappointed," Drakon whispered. The combination of the shoddy acoustics of the apartment and the fact that the smaller man was throwing his voice made it all but impossible for Roy to determine just where his quarry was hiding. "Only a desperate coward would resort to a gun in a fistfight."

Arsenal rolled his eyes. "Well, I didn't bother to bring my bow," he offered. "And besides, there's only so many times that I can watch you catch or dodge my arrows until even I realize that it's just a waste of my finances."

"Make as many amusing excuses that you can muster, Harper," Drakon hissed. "It's still dirty pool."

Brave Bow's final student couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"Let me tell you a little secret, Drakon; a little factoid just between you and me." Roy began to slide down the passageway as he inched his way closer to the the assassin's hiding place. "I've spent the last 16 years of my life dealin' with assholes like you and most of that time's been spent takin' on people that are way stronger, way faster, or way smarter than I could ever hope to be."

The confession, as humble as it seemed, didn't appear to be doing any damage to the sharpshooter's ego, judging from the leisurely way in which he twisted the barrel in his right hand.

"Because of this depressing little fact," he continued, "I end up getting my ass kicked. A lot. Also because of this, I figure that if I'm going to avoid a pricey hospital bill then, well, I'm guessin' I've got to do a bit of honest cheatin'."

"Good to know."

Roy did manage to fire a shot before Drakon swung around from his hiding spot above the doorframe. However, Drakon had managed to swing his left foot at the discharging revolver, an impact that caused the shot to miss wide left and for the gun to spring from Arsenal's grasp and fall to the floor. Harper quickly counterattacked as he warded off a spinning knife-edge chop by whipping the pistol in his right hand across Drakon's jaw. The impact caused Drakon to stumble and fall to the floor, the tumble giving Roy just enough time to aim his next shot before forcing to leap over a Wushu-style tripping maneuver.

"HAAI!" Drakon roared as he twisted his body into the perfect position for a handspring kick that send both of his feet crashing into Arsenal's abdomen. The combination of force and an airborne target resulted in Roy being launched into the air as if he had been jumping on a trampoline. His head came within inches of slamming into the top of the hallway as he soared out of the hallway and back into the common area. The gunman's body finally came to a stop with a hard crash against the same part of the floor that he had landed on before.

Of course, that was when the floorboards shattered and sent Roy tumbling down to the floor below.

* * *

_The Flash Museum_

Leonard Snart knew enough about his longtime foe to keep his freeze ray trained on The Flash for as long as the speedster would allow him. "I've got to tell you, West," said the leader of The Rogues, "you could have been a lot more courteous to your nearest and dearest. I mean, you don't write, you don't call. And then you finally show up out of the blue for the first time in months and you don't even tell us you're in town." Captain Cold let out a smile that was as deserving as his namesake. "You know, an attitude like that can get someone to start thinkin' that you don't want 'em around."

Wally grimaced as he continued to shift his gaze from one familiar enemy to the other. "Well, I didn't think you guys wanted to go grab a beer or anything like that," he said with surprising serenity.

"Oh, most of us are usually up for a lager after a job well done," The Mirror Master replied with his distinctive Scottish burr. "Fer example, once we get done shippin' your corpse over to Doctor Psycho, I think I'll put it upon myself to buy the first round."

"That's good of you, McCulloch," Wally replied. "You guys do know that you're just being used for hired muscle, right? I mean, I figured most of you guys had a little too much pride just to serve as a fancy distraction."

"Oh, I suppose it can be a little harmful for the ol' ego," confessed Mick Rory. His Midwestern twang was nearly blunted by the dull hum resonating from the pyromaniac's customized flamethrower. "Still, the hefty payday oughta make up fer it." The low laughter rumbling from several of the other surrounding criminals made it rather obvious that this was a well-shared sentiment.

"So this is it, then?" Wally asked. "You're just going to throw away your morals for. . . What? A hefty paycheck?"

Captain Cold cocked his head to one side before shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry to disappoint you, kid. It's just part of the job."

Many of The Rogues couldn't even move a muscle as Wally erupted forward, his body a crimson blur. The distinctive sound of a foot crashing into a jaw echoed through the lofty vestibule as The Weather Wizard plummeted down to the ground from where he had been levitating ten feet off the ground. Wally's feet hit the ground at nearly the same time the elemental master concluding his ungainly descent, the speedster hoping that he still had enough time to. . .

A _whoosh_, a familiar speed signature, and a barely avoided left hook launched at super speed told him that he didn't.

Inertia was coming at him with everything the teenage criminal could throw at him, his lanky frame all but a green and yellow haze. The maligned clone of Bart Allen sported a sadistic grin as the two of them launched dozens upon dozens of attacks at one another. What few attacks that managed to break through the other's defenses did far too little damage to overcome Inertia's or Wally's advanced recuperative abilities. The vast majority of strikes, however, failed to make any kind of contact thanks to the phenomenal speed of the fighters and the occasional well-timed phase.

"Don't feel too bad about it, Uncle Wally," Thaddeus Thawne teased with his abruptly rushed delivery. "In fact, I'm happy to see you. I would have never gotten my speed back if you hadn't decided to come back."

"Glad. . . glad that I can help you out," Wally said, his voice muted by the speed of the combat and the familiar, amber-colored eyes staring back at him. They were the same eyes that always glimmered whenever Bart fooled him with a lame practical joke, the same eyes that darkened and lowered in sadness whenever he told Bart what he was doing wrong.

"Wouldadonethisjobforfreeyaknow," Inertia's voice became even quicker as the speed of the skirmish picked up. "Fffffffffigured that I'd help my bbbbbbbig brother Bart get back at you for what you let hhhhhhapppen to him. Y'know, since you let him get kkkkkkkillllled."

Wally roared as he slammed his fist into Inertia's jaw, his face twisting with rage as the younger speedster fell to the floor. His blind anger took him over for less than a second, which was just enough of a hesitation for the other Rogues to gain the advantage. The Flash let out a strangled gasp as his body was wrapped within a mass of black sludge that twisted around his legs, arms, and neck. He felt a tingling from his arms and shoulders as he felt the sensation of Cobalt Blue temporarily robbing him of his speed, the inability to vibrate his molecules making it impossible to twist out of the organic trap. This, of course, left the hero in an all too vulnerable spot as the seven remaining criminals surrounded him.

"Nice goin', Joey," Captain Cold admitted as he leveled his freeze ray at Wally once again. "You too, Malcolm. Now, if all of you don't mind, I'd like to finish this myself."

The visor-sporting villain let out a squawk as a speeding object crashed into the back of his head. Mirror Master let out a barely audible burst of profanity a moment later as a bladed boomerang sunk into his left upper thigh. The other Rogues turned to observe the source of the mayhem, which happened to be a tall, lithe fellow with black-and-blue battle armor and a familiar domino mask. The new arrival rode out the hostile attention with a smile as he casually balanced his remaining escrima stick along the calluses of his right hand.

"Hey, I just wanted to ask," Nightwing began. "Does this museum offer a group discount rate? 'Cause I've got a bunch of kids that would love to see this place but cash is a little tight."

"Somebody get tha little Tom Tit!" Mirror Master barked as several of the other Rogues rushed forward to take on the vigilante.

Nightwing didn't even bother to move. In fact, his only initial response was to point a finger at the general direction of the advancing criminals.

"Sic 'em!"

A pair of blasts, one green and one black, streamed past Nightwing and scattered The Rogues like bowling pins. A crimson-colored beam sprung up from the other side of the lobby shortly thereafter, the shaft of light crashing into the base of the black mire that The Flash was trapped within. A distorted roar burbled up from Tarpit's distended body as a blur of black and blonde pulled The Flash free from the messy scene. The chaos escalated even further as two figures rushed past Grayson at lightning speed and rushed onto the battlefield, the smiles on Lloyd and Stephanie's faces making it rather obvious that they were going to enjoy what was to come.

Wally saw an almost matching smirk on the face of his best friend as Kara dropped him off at Nightwing's side. The half-Kryptonian, on the other hand, didn't say a word as she turned around and dove into the fray as well.

"We'll try not to do too much damage," Nightwing assured the former Justice Leaguer.

* * *

"I have to make a confession here, Mister Harper," Drakon said as he calmly made his way into the apartment that Roy had plummeted into. "I don't feel at all comfortable with taking advantage of this little accident. Granted, you did attempt to take advantage of my sportsmanship with your Wild West antics but that doesn't mean that I should stoop to your level." 

The diminutive assassin was almost sauntering as he made his way into the kitchen, his thin lips twisted into a confident smirk. "On the other hand," he countered, "my contractor has made it specifically clear that I will not receive my payment if you remain alive. And, if you throw that in with the fact that I saved your life back during our first fight in San Francisco then you can understand that I _aack_."

Drakon unconsciously swept his fingers up to his left ear, dabbing at the bit of blood that had welled up at the tip of his pinna. He bent his knees into a defensive stance while simultaneously taking a bit of his attention to notice the butter knife lodged into the wooden beam that stood behind him.

Arsenal rose up from the wreckage. His t-shirt was stained with smatterings of blood but the glint in his blue eyes made it clear that he still had his wits about him. The sound of metal sliding against wood echoed through the room as Roy replaced his recently spent weapon with a butcher knife he had managed to scavenge from the abandoned public housing complex.

"I told you, Drakkie. I've had my ass kicked _lots _of times."

The growing grin on Harper's face served as a perfect contrast to the grimace that had suddenly emerged on Constantine's Draconian countenance.

"Now then," Arsenal said with almost bated breath. "Let's have some fun."

* * *

"Looks like you've had a rough day, Wall-eye." 

The Flash gave Nightwing an exasperated glare before turning his attention back to the suddenly chaotic goings-on. Orders and pleas for help or sanity ran rampant as energy blasts dissipated into nothing upon contact with its target, ricocheted off sturdy force fields, or collided in mid-air with other bright bursts of light. None of the loose projectiles had managed to damage any of the exhibits or collide with any of the museum's supporting beams or columns but the scarlet-garbed speedster had a feeling that it was only a matter of time. Wally took a hint of a moment to stretch the strained muscles in the lower half of his left leg, preparing to launch himself back into the fight.

A firm grasp upon his right bicep held him back.

"Easy there, cowboy," Dick said with a hint of warning. "You look like you're about to fall out on your feet. How about sitting this one out?"

Wally was now in complete disbelief. In his defense, the shock from his best friend's actions did not come from the suggestion that he was tired (in fact, that statement couldn't have been any closer to the truth) but of the idea that he should sit by and let a bunch of kids handle his duties.

Nightwing grinned, having no problem with reading his old friend's embarrassingly clear body language. "They can handle this," the former acrobat said in a stern, but assuring manner. "Believe me, they can handle this."

"Quit talkin' crazy, 'Wing." Wally barked. The tone of the runner's voice made it clear that he was unconvinced but the fact that he didn't make any effort to free himself from Dick's attempt to restrain him made it clear he was willing to listen to reason. "The Rogues are dangerous."

Nightwing calmly shook his head. "Trust me. It's the kids that are the dangerous ones." The original Boy Wonder began to shuffle his friend away from the battlefield one step at a time. "Come on. Linda said she'd violate me with my old disco wings if I don't bring you back in one piece and I don't feel comfortable with having that kind of relationship with your old lady."

Wally was stunned speechless as the two of them finally made their way to the base of the statue of Barry Allen. Dick was halfway towards plunking him down on the ground like a fussy three-year-old before the former car mechanic finally took matters into his own hands and sat down under his own volition.

"Just sit back and relax," Dick said again as he sat down beside Wally. "Trust me. This is better than watching Andre the Giant taking on a bunch of midgits."

* * *

Drakon heard the lenses of his sunglasses cracking from the impact of diving onto the hard, wooden floors. He let out a grunt of pain as he rushed to pull himself out of Arsenal's line of fire, his right leg complaining loudly as blood continued to flow from the puncture in his upper thigh. 

"Awwwww. Did that hurt?" Roy asked his foe in what could easily be construed as a condescending manner. "Sorry I had to wing you like that but I just didn't have the right angle to get a bullet across ya throat like you did with me. Still though, where do you want the next shot to go, shorty? 'Cause I'm telin' ya right now that I can hit it! I'm like Officer fuckin' Alonzo with this thing! I'm a damn surgeon!"

The beleaguered mercenary said nothing as he silently worked to discover how much weight he could put on his left foot. A series of rushed, painful experiments informed him that he could still leap and run, albeit with a lot of pain. However, given the suddenly single-minded focus of his anger, Drakon believed he had more than enough adrenaline to see him through his agony.

"You think this makes you better than me, you despicable little cheat?" Drakon asked as he readied himself to move. "Hitting a lucky shot after stooping so low as to use a gun in unarmed combat?"

"Well, sorry to disappoint you," Roy said, his heavy footsteps purposely echoing off the floorboards. "Still, I'm afraid we're not playing in Star City or San Francisco any more, my friend. This is Gotham! A place where gunplay is allowed, the idea of drinking on patrols is now under serious consideration. . ."

Roy eagerly leapt over the counter separating himself and Drakon, the enthusiastic spark in his blue eyes reminiscent of that of a young Navajo tracker. Of course, it was extremely doubtful that any of Brave Bow's ancestors chose to hunt for bison armed with a meat cleaver in one hand and a rusting serving platter in the other but Roy was always open for creative interpretation.

"Oh yeah," Arsenal added while narrowly missing Drakon's left shoulder with a swipe of his latest weapon. "and talent in kitchen-related combat is viewed a definite plus!"

* * *

Stephanie rolled her eyes as Double Down's attack harmlessly plunked off her force field. The young Green Lantern would usually have been quite impressed by Jeremy Tell's ability to transform portions of his skin into razor-sharp playing cards that were supposedly sharp enough to cut even Superman himself. However, with the presence of so many delectable targets around her, she just felt phenomenally bored by it. 

_Lloyd gets Captain Cold, the Mirror Master. . . and I get the compulsive gambler, Gambit wannabe_, she grumbled to herself as she slinked forward towards the increasingly panicked criminal. _Feel like I'm settlin' for the cheap-ass salad bar at one of those crap-ass pizza buffets. _

Robin shook her head sadly as another playing card aimed for her throat uselessly ricocheted off her barrier. The following shot from her ring not only batted Double Down's next useless attack aside but also knocked the poor fool head over heels, the Rogue unconscious well before his ungainly crash to the ground.

"No, dude," Stephanie cautioned her cataleptic opponent. "Just. . . no."

She soon found something a bit more attractive upon feeling a peculiar tingling in her right hand. It didn't take long at all to discover that it stemmed from her ring or to discover who was the source of this occurrence. She soon caught the sight of the cold, blue eyes of Malcolm Thawne, the futuristic thief known as Cobalt Blue, as he labored to pilfer the mystic energy that empowered her. However, judging from the obvious strain stemming from his forehead and jaw line and the look of confusion and concern on the man's lips, it was clear that the thief wasn't doing as well as he had against The Flash.

Stephanie grinned as she watched Cobalt Blue's concern turn to alarm as she surged forward, her left foot aimed straight for the blue crystal embedded in the man's chest plate. The resulting impact not only shattered the containment chamber holding the mysterious Blue Flame that enabled Cobalt Blue to steal anything he desired but also managed to knock out the jewel's owner.

"See? That's why it's always important to protect your mystical power source," the ever-helpful Robin advised her newest defeated opponent. "Personally," she added before taking off to find somebody else to hit, "I prefer The Club."

* * *

Drakon blamed the sheer idiocy of the situation at hand for the mistake in judgment that allowed Harper to use his cleaver to draw blood along his right tricep with the cleaver. However, as much as he had been surprised by the arrogant _malakas, _the new influx of pain filled him with the fury he needed to regain the offensive. He rushed at Arsenal with as much speed and intensity as his beleaguered body could muster, each jab, strike, and palm thrust designed to keep the battle close in order to prevent drawing attention to his legs. His gritty efforts garnered some quick rewards, particularly when a well-targeted punch crashed into his foe's left rotator cuff with a cracking impact that forced Harper to drop that ridiculous kitchen knife. The diminutive warrior could almost smell the blood in the water as he quickly went to do the same to the opposite shoulder. 

_CLANG!_

The only thing that cracked when Drakon's fist met the center of the round metal serving platter was his own knuckle. That new jolting sensation gave his body a nasty wake-up call, his nerves momentarily overcome by the pain roiling through his bones and muscles.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!" the ever-opportunistic Roy shouted as he slammed the makeshift shield into Drakon's chin with a forward swipe that would impress any sentinel of liberty. The sickening but satisfying _crack _that came from Constantine's broken jaw merely motivated the creative combatant to look for more things to play with as Drakon stumbled to the floor. After a brief perusal of the battleground, he found a possibility that caused his face to shine with delight.

_Oh ho ho. __**Please **__tell me I can pull this one off.

* * *

_

Kara felt mildly disappointed as she gently placed the Rogue known as Abra Kadabra down on the ground. She had hoped that, given the name, he'd be a bit more formidable of a magician than he had actually turned out to be. Of course, Noah had told her that the time traveler from the 64th century had only recently become capable of performing feats of genuine magic but the half-Kryptonian had hoped that the villain's supposed expertise in the field would make him more of a match. Thankfully, she didn't have too much time to focus upon her discontent before Tarpit decided to try and suffocate her by enveloping his liquid-like form around her.

The young woman sighed as her x-ray vision pierced through the inky blackness surrounded her eyes. _Okay_, _this one's the invulnerable guy_, she remembered from The Batman's briefing. _That means I can just go and do this. . ._

Joey Monteleone's second body began to churn and tear at itself as the girl he had captured began to spin like a human whirlwind. He managed to maintain his relative integrity for a second or two only to discover that his efforts only caused the woman to spin faster. Inexperience gave in to panic as Kara's hypervelocity ate away at the Rogue's structural integrity. Within seconds the frightened Rogue's body exploded into dozens of tar globules that soon scattered throughout the main lobby.

_Next_, Kara though ruefully as she flew off to take on the advancing Girder.

* * *

Roy barely broke stride as he ducked down to retrieve the cleaver that Drakon had forced him to drop a mere ten seconds ago. His speed remained relatively unabated as he used all the strength in his right arm to fling the long knife at a small forest of copper piping that ran against the sink area. Judging from the ear-splitting _shrunnnnk _that came in response the weapons master presumed that the projectile had done its job as he rolled over the kitchen counter once again, presumably in an effort to retrieve one of his previously abandoned weapons. 

Drakon was up and moving before Roy could even come out of his tuck, his blood-stained teeth on display as he rushed at the former Teen Titan. The assassin pushed past his pain once again to come at Roy with a series of acrobatic leaps. His short, though energetic display finally came to a head with a flying kick that had his heel on a direct course with the spot between Roy's eyes.

The impact may have very well cracked Roy's skull had he not chucked the kitchen sink he had cut loose with the cleaver directly into Drakon's wide-open gut. The combination of the bulk of the 45-pound basin and the fact that its intended target was airborne produced an impact that sent Drakon hurtling backwards through the door that Roy couldn't help but notice was wide open only a few minutes ago, no doubt the work of some clever vagabond looking for a comfortable place to sleep. Drakon's desperate attempts to recover himself were interrupted when his lower back crashed into the steel railing of the fire escape. The painful collision was just enough to send Drakon tumbling off the stairwell and crashing to the concrete one story below.

* * *

Intense waves of heat and cold circulated around the crackling kinetic energy that, in turn, surrounded Lloyd as he searched for the best way to break through his present dilemma. The three separate assaults were certainly nothing more than nuisances but, when combined together, they certainly had the potential to stick in his craw. The blasts from Heatwave licked at his protection charm while he managed to twist around Captain Cold's attempts to gore him with enormous icicles. 

"So you're the big, bad, Black Dog huh?" Inertia asked him while attempting to break through his defenses at a rate of several hundred punches a second. "Don't seem so scary to me," the clone said contemptuously. "You're not even that fauuuuh. . ."

Inertia stumbled, both physically and vocally, when Lloyd performed a teleport that led him straight to the clone's back. The Black Dog quickly bent into a crouch, removing his saber from his scabbard as he did so. A carefully placed lash with the mystic blade slit into both of Inertia's Achilles heels, a counter that sent the egotistical speedster down while screaming bloody murder.

"You shouldn't talk so bloody much," The Black Dog replied amidst the baying of his wounded charge while redoubling his efforts to blunt his two other attackers. "'Scuse me, gents," he apologized. "Looks like I gotta take care of somethin'."

Lloyd teleported away again, this time to a spot that neither Heatwave nor Captain Cold could immediately pinpoint. A bit of the figurative veil began to lift a moment later when the two Rogues bore witness to the unconscious form of Ewan McCullough hurtling out of a nearby mirror, hints of blood streaming out of The Mirror Master's broken nose. The flight plan of the current Rogue and former member of The Injustice League was interrupted when Lloyd teleported into his path, thus saving The Mirror Master from an unhealthy meeting with the museum's sturdy stone walls. The Black Dog casually caught the unconscious Rogue with one hand, a feat that allowed him to use his other hand to slide his saber back into the scabbard strapped to his back.

"Sorry, this fella thought he was going to trap me in the mirror in the men's room lavatory," he calmly informed the gun-toting Rogues. "All right, mates, I'm ready to go."

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Wally said as Girder's body crashed to the ground with a loud _WHOOMP_, the victim of a double-axe handle courtesy of Kara Zor-el. "Are they always this. . . efficient?" 

"Yeah," Nightwing said as he stretched his legs. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

The Flash quirked his lips as he watched The Weather Wizard struggle to his feet. "I still think I should be doing something right now. This just. . . doesn't feel right."

"Ah, don't worry about it. You've done your share today." Dick assured his friend as he reached into one of the packets in his utility belt. "And something tells me you'll be able to find your place here. You just need the time to look for it. Still, that can wait for tomorrow."

Wally turned to ask what his friend had meant by that only to discover that he was now staring straight at a deck of cards.

"How about a game of crazy eights?"

* * *

Drakon grit his teeth as he worked to crawl away, his shattered left leg making any effort to escape a near impossibility. His broken jaw throbbed as he used his arms to lift himself up to the sidewalk, a smattering of blood leaking from his lips as he struggled to push himself forward. Some of the passers by were cautiously staring at him from a distance but none of them making any effort to lend him a hand. Of course, in their defense, Drakon figured that he would have done the same. 

"I have to make a confession here, Mister Midget," Arsenal said as he calmly strolled down the final stairwell and onto the sidewalk. "I feel entirely comfortable with taking advantage of all of this. Granted, it may make me look like an asshole but it's been a _looooong_ time since I've had the chance to do something like this. Huh? Oh, hold on, my man."

Roy stopped his sauntering when he was a mere several feet away from his agonized opponent. "Okay. So they're on the way here?" Roy asked Noah through the comm. link. "Yeah. I'll just need a little time to finish up here."

The vigilante known as Arsenal turned his attentions back to Drakon. Deciding to add insult to injury, he reared back his right foot and slammed his heel into the assassin's balls. The surprisingly high wheeze that spilled from Drakon's lips was just another wonderful bit of music to the sharpshooter's ears.

"That was for Joanna Pierce, ya little shit," Roy said, kneeling down so Drakon could hear every hint of his angry whisper. "Oh, and before you get the idea of paying me back for this, allow me to remind you that the only reason you're still alive right now is because people are watching. The next time you come after me and mine, I will kill you. And if I somehow, _someway _manage to mess that up, then somebody else in my new posse is gonna make sure to to punch your ticket for me."

Roy straightened back up to his feet, rolling his shoulders in order to take the strain out of them. Knowing that his time was running short, he reared back his foot again, this time aiming his foot towards the back of Drakon's skull. The Greek mercenary went down with a groan and a thud, his numerous wounds finally overcoming his sturdy constitution.

After taking a moment to savor his victory, Roy Harper took a moment to cast his gaze upon a few of the stunned onlookers, some of whom were already calling the cops that were already on their way thanks to a timely tip by Noah Kuttler. Breaking out his biggest grin, he spread his arms wide in triumph.

"Let it be known, brothers and sisters!" he roared. "Brother Speedy's got his BALLS back!"

* * *

"Man! I like fighting these guys, Kare Bear!" Stephanie proclaimed as she thumped The Weather Wizard across the forehead and knocked the elemental specialist out again. "They've got the coolest toys, they dress up in pretty colors, and they make the funniest noises when you hit 'em." 

To demonstrate her point, Robin launched herself into a corkscrew somersault that left her in the perfect position to ram her feet into Heatwave's chest. The sound of cracked bones and strangled screaming filled the room as the pyromaniac fell to the ground.

"See?" Stephanie asked her enormously powerful pal.

It was quite likely that Kara would have chosen not to reply even if she hadn't already been engaging in a modest energy struggle with Captain Cold. That being said, she remained silent as she focused upon controlling the heat vision that poured from her eyes, the red beam of energy clashing into the solid blue beam being cast from Snart's weapon with a shower of sound.

"Stupid. God damn stupid," the leader of The Rogues mumbled as sweat began to tumble down his aching temples. "Lettin' ourselves get set up like this. . ."

Captain Cold's frustrations were silenced when Lloyd snuck behind him, the middle and index finger of his right hand already stretched into a knife point. The Black Dog then gently poked the criminal's occipital ridge, the part of the head that connected the skull with the spine. The precise placement and pressure of the attack caused Captain Cold to black out almost immediately, causing The Man who Mastered Absolute Zero to limply slump into the Brit's arms.

Of course, what with no freeze ray left to cross paths with Kara's heat vision, that left Lloyd to weather Kara's attack with the aid of his force barrier. The strain was a mild bother that ultimately ceased as Kara hastily cut her assault off. The need to blink several times in order to adjust to the contrasting visuals caused Lloyd to miss Kara's pupils turn from crimson-red back to crystal blue.

"Sorry about that," Kara whispered.

Lloyd found himself having to swallow before he could properly reply.

"'S all right."

"Well, I guess that'll do it," Stephanie said as she plunked herself down between the two staring Misfits. "So what do we do for an encore?"

"We're going back to Gotham."

The three victorious fighters turned to see the stern look that accompanied The Flash's somber demeanor. Lloyd responded by raising his eyebrows while Kara and Steph looked at one another to see if the other one had any answers.

"I need to talk with your boss," Wally explained.

* * *

Misfits Confidential 

See, kids? This is what we call overcompensation. And Shawn? You don't get to whine about not having enough action in here for at least a month! As always, thanks to everybody who's still reading and reviewing. I've decided not to turn the reins over to Judd Winick so you guys can breathe a little easier. However, remember that I can do so whenever I want to so you better remember to review!

Now I know I usually take this time to talk about some of the comics I've been reading lately. The problem with that is that I've gotten so damn busy reading books about teaching people that I really don't have the time to read something I can recommend. Sorry about that. On the other hand, I do have something I can give you. . . the next issue preview!

* * *

Issue #56 Preview 

All right. Here it is. Bruce Wayne versus Wally West. Hide the kids, lock up the pets, and get ready for more grade A whining and bitching! Of course, there's also a pretty decent undercard coming up too. Seems that Lloyd and Stephanie are both up for a long overdue chat and Roy looks to be up for a bit of story time with Dick and Wally. Oh, and Vincent's going to kill somebody. Find out the whos, whys and whats in the next installment of The Misfits: The Fates of Control Freaks. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	56. The Fate of Control Freaks

Issue #56

The Fate of Control Freaks

Dick honestly believed he had done all he could to delay the inevitable. He had drawn out his retelling of the events that occurred within the museum for as long as possible while the good people of the Keystone City Police Department worked to gather the various unconscious or otherwise incapacitated Rogues scattered throughout the main atrium. His stalling maneuvers continued even as they returned to Wayne Manor, where he somehow managed to convince the red-haired speedster to guzzle down a hastily made chocolate milkshake, thus giving Wally even more time to audibly plan out just what he was going to say to The Dark Knight. However, as encouraging as that success had been for Dick, his attempt to sell the idea of playing a round of Golden Axe fell flat and lead him to his current situation.

_Who would have thought that Wally lost his appeal for giving flying head butts to midgets?_ Dick half-heartedly mused.

"Come on, man," Dick said as he matched Wally stride for stride. "Why not just go and get a few hours! If anything else you can be bright eyed and bushy tailed when you start yelling at him!"

"No, Dick," Wally insisted as he hung a sharp left that brought him into another passageway that would bring him even closer to The Batcave and the object of his frustrations. "I am not about to let this one lie! And just how did he manage to know where I was anyway?"

"Noah downloaded your genetic signature into his satellite tracking system the day you came back," Dick calmly replied, perhaps hoping that a prolonged explanation would help buy more time for his friend to simmer down.

"Oh, well that's just _lovely_," Wally snapped as he continued moving forward. "So you're telling me that Bruce has a hold of my blood."

"He's got a hold of everybody's blood!" Dick shouted back. "I mean, when you think about it, that kind of stuff is like a prerequisite for the paranoid, loner detective type. Remember when you dragged me up to see The Question's laboratory in The Watchtower?"

Wally began to walk faster, his mannerisms making it quite clear that he wasn't up for the kind of conversation that his friend was looking for. He tried not to gnash his teeth as Dick broke into a brief sprint in order to cut in front of him.

"Wally, talk to me, man. Look, I know you weren't exactly looking for a fight with The Rogues or for the loonies to help you out but. . ."

"That's not the reason I'm doing this," Wally said with a somewhat subdued growl. "I'm doing this because The Rogues didn't come after me this time because I'm The Flash. They came after me because the people that are going after all of you think that I'm a part of this team."

"And you're not?" Dick raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I didn't say that. But if I'm going to be a part of this then I'm going to have to make a few things clear to your holier-than-thou boss."

The two longtime friends stood together in silence, neither one of them willing to make the next move. It was hardly the first such occurrence between the original students of Bruce Wayne and Barry Allen. In fact, in the dozen years they had known each other, the two longtime partners. The settings may have changed over the years: New York, San Francisco, The Watchtower, but the responsible parties and sources for friction remained the same. It was always about something that Bruce said, something that Barry did, the common frustrations that could frustrate any young man striving to become an adult.

"Off to the hotel, I was ready indeed. Slapped the button in the 'llac to control the speed. Put one up in the air, the cops just stared. Waved my hands out the roof like I just ain't care."

And, lest we forget, it was hardly uncommon for a certain red-haired loudmouth to break up such proceedings.

The bare-chested, singing sharpshooter strutted down the hallway with an enormous smile. Armed with a beer in his left hand and one of Stephanie's beloved turkey legs in his right, he also happened to be sporting a black eye, a busted lip, and had managed to accessorize his sparse wardrobe with bandages around his left shoulder and the right side of his abdomen that, judging from the hints of red on the tops of the gauze, were due for replacement. To their credit, neither Dick nor Wally appeared to be too disturbed by the interruption as they patiently waited for their friend to swagger their way.

"You know that Robin's not a big fan of somebody stealing her turkey legs," Dick pointed out, wisely choosing to start with the safest conversational topic.

Roy momentarily tilted his head to one side before moving to take another large bite of the aforementioned culinary delight. "No worries, short pants. I made sure to buy an extra one."

Dick and Wally turned towards each other once again, both of them seeking the solution for this bizarre situation within the other person. Roy, on the other hand, took a swig from his beer, seemingly reveling in the awkward behavior he had brought into being.

"You're. . ." Wally began. "You're looking kind of beat up there."

"Looks like," Roy calmly answered. The man still held the smile even as he made his reply.

"Sure you don't want to be getting some more medical attention there, Speedy?" Wally asked in a manner and tone that would have been quite appropriate for the 2-year-olds napping away upstairs.

"Or at least put a shirt on?" Nightwing added.

"Ah naw," Roy responded after taking another swallow of lager. "I think I'll keep myself like this for a bit. I'm feelin' real sexy right now," he added with a mouthful of turkey. "So I heard the fight with The Rogues went pretty well. The sprout just couldn't stop yappin' about how she caved in Heatwave's chest."

"Yeah, it went great," Wally said as he narrowed his eyes. The mere mention of the battle was all that was required to remind The Flash of what he was going to do. "In fact, I'm on my way to go talk with The Batman about it right now."

Given his rather exhausted state, it could be said that you could excuse Roy for the time it took to process the meaning behind Wally's words. However, once he did manage to do so, he took a quick look at his beer, pondered over his options, and took another quick sip before speed walking after his quarreling compatriots.

"Look, I know Bruce can be a bit of an asshole sometimes," Dick reasoned.

Roy closed his eyes and shook his head. _Here we go again_.

"_Some _times?" Wally thundered back. "He's been horning in on our lives for years now! And who the hell said he had a right to tell us what we should be doing and how we should be doing it!"

Roy blew out his breath before running the tip of his tongue over his incisors.

"No, he doesn't have that right," Dick admitted. "Still, there's a good and a bad way to go about talking to him about this."

Roy briefly contemplated whether or not he should start whistling before he decided on the latter possibility.

"Yeah, well I don't give a damn about his sensibilities. He put you through hell when you were living here, he dragged me into his own paranoia when you left, and now he seems more than happy to throw my family down there with the trash and I don't have to excuse him for _OWWWW_!"

Wally grabbed at the back of his head as he turned to give Roy a shocked, but sour look. Dick, on the other hand, busied himself by stooping down to pick up the half-full beer can that Roy had so unceremoniously chucked at The Fastest Man Alive.

"My _God_!" Roy exclaimed as he took advantage of his friends' stunned states to close the distance. "Don't you two ever get bored whining about the same damn thing? Ohhhh, The Batman is just so awful. He was mean to me and ruined my childhood. Wah, wah, wah."

Dick and Wally both involuntarily cinched at Roy's words. Of course, part of that may have had to do with the high-pitched delivery that their friend had employed after his initial inquiry. Arsenal had closed the gap between them before either one of them were able to form a response, the former partner of Oliver Queen pointing an accusatory finger at Dick as he came to a stop.

"Hey, Dick! Do you happen to remember what you got from Bruce for your 17th birthday? I sure do! You got a stealth plane. A _fucking stealth plane _that you could impress your buddies with and copulate with your hot alien girlfriend in! Want to know what I got from Ollie for my 17th birthday? Well, I didn't get shit 'cause he had just gotten finished throwing me out of his damn house because he figured that dealin' with somebody on heroin would cut into his patrol time. Now, pardon me for what seems like whining but that little comparison just makes me think that life with Bruce ain't really that bad, Dickie."

Dick worked to push his way past the anger and intimidation from Roy's penetrating glare. However, by the time he had done so, Roy had turned his attentions towards Wally.

"And since we're all takin' a ride on the Bitchy Train," Roy went on. "I know I've done quite a few things to fuck up my brain cells but I seem to recall a time when you thought it was a good idea to try and make everybody forget that you were The Flash. In fact, you even went so far as to have The Spectre play with our heads and wipe that particular memory from _everybody's _head, including yours. Man! That was a real steaming load of shit you got us into. Thank goodness that one dude figured it all out and saved the day and your marriage. God, what was his name?"

Roy took a break from his diatribe in order to give his two perturbed friends an opportunity to help him answer his lingering inquiry. However, after a couple of seconds of silence, the name came back to him, his frustration of having momentarily forgotten punctured by swatting his forehead with the turkey leg.

"Oh, yeah. It was Bruce Wayne! Stupid, stupid me." Roy admonished himself with continued self-abuse via poultry.

"He created the Brother Eye satellite," Wally fired back. "He investigated our _lives_ just so he could find the best way to hurt us."

"Yeah, and it's not like Ollie, your uncle, and his buddies didn't give him a good reason to do so," Roy coolly countered.

"You know, since you suddenly seem to have all the answers, how about I throw a question back at you?" Wally asked the smirking archer while Dick held a warning arm across The Flash's chest. "What the hell made you decide to move in here? Since when did you become Bruce's biggest fan?"

Roy gave off a sigh before taking another casual bite from his already ragged choice of comfort food. The gesture clearly infuriated Wally even further, so much so that Roy had to narrow his cheeks just to avoid bursting with laughter.

"I never said I was a supporter. But, that being said, I think it's time I told the both of you a little story."

* * *

_The Batcave_

_Stupid L-blocks. Why do they always have to pop up at the exact, precise moment that you __**don't **__need them_?

Stephanie worked her brain to find a place for the unwanted digitized chunk with the second-and-a-half she had to do so. She had made it a point over the last month or so to try and break into the high score section of the Tetris game that C.C. had wisely installed upon The Batcave's central computer. As silly as such an effort may sound, the prestige of having one's initials placed upon the unimpressive scoreboard had grown considerably over the last several months. However, despite Robin's efforts, the distinction remained to be dominated by the team's resident hacker along with several inspired efforts from Kara and Lloyd.

Only one of the scores remained anonymous. Of course, given the initials G.G. that had been placed there, the identity of the perpetrator behind that one performance was also rather obvious no matter how much a particular Dark Knight tried to deny it.

"You should have placed it on the right," Lloyd casually informed her as he plopped himself into the nearby computer chair.

Stephanie said nothing as she put the game on hold. After a quick perusal of her state of affairs, the 18-year-old chose to cut her losses and shut down the application.

"Quite a day," she said without even turning away from the screen.

"We've had worse."

The blonde-haired Gothamite nodded in agreement. "The Rogues were pretty much a walk in the park."

Lloyd sniffed as he leaned back in his chair, the sound of the slight creak emanating from the seat's supports as clear as day. "I didn't think either one of us was expecting The Battle of The Bulge."

"I took out more Rogues than anybody."

The Black Dog let out a chuckle as Stephanie's poker face broke into a mischievous smile. "I'll be sure to send ya a fruit basket."

"Be sure to get the ones with the nectarine slices."

The two quietly chortled as they sought to make themselves more comfortable. It only took several seconds before Stephanie began to drum her fingers along the armrest.

"Y'see 'ittle Jai upstairs in his Elmo beanie pajamas?"

"And his hair sticking out everywhere?" she added as Lloyd shook his head. "Jesus, aren't they just the cutest little boogers you've ever seen?"

Lloyd waved his left hand in a dismissive manner. "Aah, they were all right. I mean, 'm not as bad as Cissie when it comes to getting away from the moppets but 'm not about to get onto your level."

The young woman turned to face her best friend, momentarily considering the pluses and minuses behind cuffing the back of Lloyd's head as she did so. After a few peaceful seconds of consideration, she jettisoned the idea, choosing instead to turn away and lean her neck against the computer chair so she could get a good look at the dozens of bats hanging on the cave's roof.

"Your kid liked what you got 'im for his third birthday?"

Stephanie sighed as Lloyd's question shined a spotlight on the weight she had been toying with ever since she first set eyes on Jai and Iris. No, that wasn't right. It was a weight she had held for much longer than that. It was a burden that had picked at her ever since she heard the first cries of her son. It came with the recognition that it would never be her job to ease her son's worries, to cheer for his triumphs, or to tell him about how to make his way through all that life had in store for him.

"I think so. I mean, I'm not an expert on reading a toddler's behavior." The acoustics of The Batcave made Stephanie's response sound hollow.

"Just how did you manage to get that present in to 'em anyway?" Lloyd asked as he cautiously played with his fingers.

The young woman shrugged her shoulders. "The boss cycled it through Wayne Foundations in a way that made it look like it was a gift from the dad's co-workers."

"Pretty clever," Lloyd replied as Stephanie leaned back in her chair once again. He momentarily considered the wisdom of leaning over and holding his best friend's hand before deciding to follow suit, his green eyes soon adjusting to the darkness above him. "Talk to me, little sis."

The Green Lantern let out a chuckle that turned into a tiny gasp. She ran her hand through the hair that had slipped down onto her forehead, the calluses at the base of her fingers digging into her temple as she held her hand there well after the job was done.

"I know that I made the right decision." Stephanie made certain to take the time to look right into her friend's calm eyes. "I knew there was no way that I'd have been able to give that child the life that he deserved. Still. . ."

"The road not traveled. . ." Lloyd concluded as Stephanie let out a hum. As he watched his friend morosely nod her head in return, the young man finally decided to throw comfort to the wind and leaned forward to grasp the young woman's hands with his own.

"Well, on the bright side," the young man reasoned, "somethin' tells me the Wests won't have to look too far to find a willing sitter."

Stephanie rewarded Lloyd's words with a shy, familiar smile. It was the same grin that graced her face whenever she remembered that there really was somebody who would be there for her. Lloyd knew the meaning behind it because he had given her that smile many times in return.

"I still can't believe you went after Wally with the bloody Finding Nemo argument."

The two of them both broke into a fit of laughter as they pulled away from one another. "Well, the asshole was askin' for it," Stephanie replied as she nearly slid out of her chair. "Boy's lucky I didn't go and pull a Lion King on him."

"Well, now that Harper's here we got somebody to play Pumbaa."

"Ah, too true," Stephanie said whimsically as she pulled herself back up. "I told you, puppy, I don't want to lose my family. Not now. Not ever."

"Got a pretty big family 'ere, Tweety. Still, I suppose 's an admirable goal," Lloyd admitted. "Completely unrealistic, mind, but admirable."

"Yeah," Stephanie grunted as she hefted herself back up into her seat proper. "It's almost as naïve as you starting to think that Kare Bear's not totally into you."

Lloyd grumbled as he rose in his seat, presenting his back to Stephanie as he did so. Stephanie countered her friend's response by leaping out of her seat and sliding in The Black Dog's path.

"Now now. No freakin' out on me now. Just listen. I know you're sick of hearing it but just give her a little time to work things out, okay? She knows you care about her and that's what matters." Stephanie's vocal delivery was soft and sincere but the twinkle in her eyes became increasingly more mischievous with each syllable. "Right? Right? Hmmmmm?"

Lloyd couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, you're right."

Stephanie nodded confidently, her cockiness restored. "Damn right I'm right." The melodramatic smirk turned into a warm grin as Lloyd rose to his feet before wrapping her into a tight embrace.

"Love ya, Dory," Lloyd whispered.

"Love you too, big bro," Steph replied as she locked her arms around the center of Lloyd's back. "Oh, and just to clear things up. . . If this thing between you and Kara doesn't work out. . ."

"Yeah?"

"There's no way in hell I'm giving you a pity fuck."

The Black Dog shook his head as he struggled to hold his little sister, his efforts made slightly difficult by the girl's quivering as a result of her subdued laughter.

"You're a right bitch, Stephanie Brown."

* * *

_Star City_

As he clenched his teeth tight to overcome the nausea and pain that threatened to overwhelm him, Roy Harper realized that this was a shitty way to celebrate your 17th birthday.

It had been a good five minutes since he decided that he could no longer stay still on the couch. He couldn't stay still anymore, waiting idly as the withdrawals stabbed at his stomach and forced the rest of his body to tremble and quake as if his bones would snap at any moment. He tried all he could think of to keep still as he raised his thin, pale hand up to wipe at the clammy sweat that had accumulated upon his forehead but found that he couldn't quite manage it. The failure may have seemed like something small but, as far as the teenager's mind was concerned, it was another disappointment to be cast upon an exceedingly high pile.

The young man suddenly drew another cognitive line in the sand as he braced his body and mind once again. He had told Dinah that everything would be all right. He knew that she needed to get out after spending nearly four days watching over him, being there for him through every moment of his self-created hell. She made sure that he ate, that he slept, that he fought back against the urge to crawl inside himself and eat away until he couldn't feel his own agony. She held him as tight as she could when he cried or felt like screaming, doing everything she could to make up for the hole that Ollie had decided to leave behind.

_She'll be back in a little while_, he reminded himself. _You can do this_.

"Hello, Roy."

It was only through sheer luck that the teenager hadn't fallen on his ass from the shock. His already parched throat turned completely dry as he turned to catch the sight of The Batman in Dinah's cramped kitchenette, his black body armor a decidedly sharp contrast to the white of the countertops and the humming refrigerator. The cowl was pooled around the vigilante's neckline, giving Roy plenty of time to see the serene look in the eyes of Bruce Wayne as he tried to form a response.

Although the young man could count the number of times he had seen Batman unmasked on one hand (and have some fingers to spare), he thought that he could recognize the seemingly neutral look on the older man's face and even know what it meant. Dick was always telling him that The Batman never seemed to be impressed by anything; that he always seemed so flat and emotionless. However, Roy had a strong idea that his friend hadn't quite read The Dark Knight correctly. Maybe it was because the look in Bruce's eyes seemed so similar to the one that Brave Bow would give to him when he was trying too hard to impress him.

The Batman wanted to see how he would respond.

_Well,_ Roy's mind replied, now somehow eager to confront this little circumstance, _let's give it a shot._

"Did Dinah ask for you to stop by?" Roy knew it was an unlikely idea but he wanted to test the waters.

"No," Batman calmly replied. "And, before you ask, I'm not here because of Robin either." He swept his way out of the small room, his vast cape swatting at the chair legs as he broke into an even stride.

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to ask you about your intentions." Batman came to a stop a good five feet away from him, his presence dominating Dinah's modest temporary living quarters. "Or, if that seems a bit confusing, what do you plan on doing now?"

"I don't know."

The audible snort of discontent that rose from The Batman's nose and mouth caused Roy to involuntarily jump in shock. A part of him wanted to turn away in shame but a small inkling of him felt a spike of anger. However, before he could decide which way to go, his visitor spoke once again.

"Just what would your teacher say to a response like that?"

Now it was the younger man's turn to snort. "Ollie doesn't give a damn about. . ."

"I'm not talking about Oliver Queen," Batman snapped. "I'm talking about Brave Bow."

Roy's eyes widened in shock. _How does he know about Brave. . ._

"The Navajo teach their young to value self sufficiency." The Batman wasn't even bothering to look at him, choosing instead to focus his energy upon an impromptu tour of Dinah's living room. "You must always know where you wish for life's road to guide you or be willing to listen to the words of those that travel alongside you. Those who forget or do not choose to do so are a disgrace to their tribe."

The teenaged archer seethed as Bruce casually plucked up a framed photo that stood upon the nearby mantel. It was a snapshot of him, Dinah, and Ollie taken just outside of Fisherman's Wharf. He had taken many a gander at the sun-drenched, happy faces in that photograph over the past several days, each time feeling as if the sight was just a mockery of his own misery.

"Is that what you want to be, Roy Harper?" There was a slight twitch of irritation along Bruce's jaw-line as he set the picture back down at its place. "A disgrace?"

The human mind can be a highly irrational creation. This is particularly true when it is additionally burdened by fatigue and anger. For example, Roy would never, in optimal conditions, have chosen to spring at the older man with the intent of doing as much harm as possible. Roy's brain was also informing him to give in to the whining stirring from his bones and muscles but he continued to throw punch after punch at The Batman. The sheer futility of his efforts grew larger and larger in his thoughts with each and every block and sway as he gradually began to slow himself down.

_WHAP!_

It was safe to say that the right hook that slammed into Batman's cheek was hardly something out of Ali-Frazier. Nevertheless, Roy could feel his stomach flip-flopping as The Batman stumbled backwards for a step or two. The young man was paralyzed by the goings on, his body momentarily overwhelmed by sweeping waves of fear, shock, and even a bit of satisfaction.

The Batman, on the other hand, remained entirely calm.

"Now imagine what you could do if you actually believed in yourself."

Roy felt his knees turn to jelly as exhaustion overcame him. His stomach went into another lurch when he felt The Batman's arm tightly wrap around his abdomen and lower chest. The young man struggled to put his eyes back in focus as the vigilante dragged him back to the couch, his vision finally becoming clear as he was set down upon the cushions.

"Heroin withdrawal can lead to lethargy and muscular atrophy," Bruce informed him as he swept back into the kitchen. "Frequent protein consumption can help counteract some of the effects."

Roy let out a lost chuckle as all the large words seemed to swim through his psyche. "Dinah's got. . . protein bars. Left. . . cabinet." He struggled to regain his breath as he took in the unusual sound of Batman rummaging through Dinah's foodstuffs. Realizing that the detective had left it up to him to make himself more comfortable, he let out a grunt as he pushed his legs up onto the sofa.

The strain was enough to distract him from the sound of The Batman's return to the living room. There were a pair of protein bars in one hand and a pint of the sherbet Dinah bought a couple days ago in the other.

"Eat these before you go to sleep," The Batman ordered. "The cultures will prevent nausea."

The young man withheld the urge to laugh as he reached for the sorbet. "Dinah said the same thing." He plucked the spoon from The Batman's outstretched hand and dug in. "Y'know, just without all the fancy words."

Despite Roy's tired smile, The Batman still looked deadly serious. "Roy, you have the potential to be better than Ollie could ever dream of being. However, you'll never get to that point unless you're willing to take the first step on your own. It's not something that's going to be quick or easy and it's not something that will necessary get better as time goes on. However, the only way you'll ever get away from where you are right now is if you have it in yourself to keep moving."

Roy nodded just after taking a chomp out of one of the protein bars. "Any ideas?" he asked through a mouthful of granola.

The young man could have sworn that he saw a glimmer of a smile as The Batman reached into one of the pouches upon his utility belt. He soon emerged with a business card trapped between the middle and ring fingers of his left gauntlet, which he then handed to him. The name on the card wasn't the least bit familiar but the name of the organization that the person was affiliated with was quite recognizable.

"It's an opportunity. Nothing more. I'll leave it to you to decide if you think it's the right move."

Roy only took a second or two to stare at the card before pocketing it. However, by the time he had done that, The Batman had swept away from him and appeared to be making his way to the window leading to the fire escape.

"Hey! WAIT!"

Roy was somewhat surprised when Bruce actually paused at the windowsill. Of course, part of that shock came from the realization that he now needed to say something else. After a moment or two, he thought he had come up with a winner.

"Just. . . thanks."

Barely a second passed before The Batman was on the move again, his feet quickly finding purchase upon the cast iron staircase.

"Get some sleep, Harper."

* * *

"And _that_," Roy informed his captive audience, "is how I first got to know about Checkmate. Within a year I was relatively happy, I had a job that allowed me to provide for myself and I was back to doing what I loved. Sooooo, I guess you could say that Dinah and Hal may have been the ones to get me back on my feet but it was Bruce that convinced me to start walkin'."

Dick's eyes were as wide as saucers.

Wally's peepers, on the other hand, remained quite narrow.

"But didn't you _hate_ Checkmate?" The Flash asked incredulously.

"Hell yeah, I did," Roy heartily answered. "Took me months to stop hatin' the old bastard by the time I finally got out of there. That being said, Mister West, it looks like you're still trying to miss the point. The bottom line is that the brooding asshole downstairs made an honest effort to give us the opportunity to make something of ourselves. Granted, it may not have been his job and the results may have occasionally sucked donkey balls but at least he made the damn effort."

"So that's why you're here?" Richard asked. "Because you think you owe it to him?"

"No," Roy testily countered. "The bottom line is that Bruce left the offer open after I turned him down for the infiltration job on Brother Eye. I mean, don't get me wrong. I wanted a piece of The Society's ass once I found out that Luthor threatened to kill my daughter but I figured that it might be a good idea for Bruce to try and bring you back into the fold."

The sharpshooter took Dick and Wally's silence to mean that he had made his point. Taking another sip of his beer and a bite from his now-lukewarm turkey leg, he turned to make his way upstairs.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he added as he began to clamber up the steps, "I have to go talk with my _actual_ child now. Good morrow to you."

Dick and Wally were once again quiet and still as their friend went about his business. Then, once Arsenal was finally out of sight, they turned to face each other.

"Did we just get punked out by _Roy_?" Wally asked in a somewhat incredulous manner.

"Apparently so," Dick replied.

* * *

_The Batcave_

It took a bit of effort for Wally to track The Batman's movements but he ultimately managed to zero in on them. Moving forward with calm, quiet steps, he soon made his way into one of the smaller side apertures carved within the expansive cavern. He found the older man sitting quietly in the lotus position, his heavy cowl shielding the majority of his unruffled face. Biting back a bit of worry over the price of summoning The Batman from what was obviously a peaceful place, Wally gave out a sigh as Bruce turned towards him, the pale, white lenses of the mask making the task in front of him that much more foreboding.

"My wife tells me that I owe you guys about five dozen apologies. Mind if I get started?"

Bruce gave Wally a ghost of a grin as he rose to his feet. "That's hardly necessary, Flash."

Wally gnashed his teeth. "See? You need to stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Surprising me!" Wally shouted back. "I mean, it's bad enough that I found out everything you did for Bart and for Roy and now I have to see you acting all. . . human. Why couldn't you have been like this at The Watchtower orrrrrr. . . whenever you just dropped by at Titans Tower all those times that you just wanted to scare us. You gotta realize that I've had to adjust to a whole lot the past couple weeks!"

"I've been told those skills are some of my more recent developments." The Batman took a moment to stretch his calf muscles from their relaxed state. "That being said, it wasn't my intention to surprise you."

Wally chuckled as he leaned against the nearby rock wall. "You see, now _that's _something I could bet on. I figured that all this time I thought you were somebody that I thought I had figured out. You were the asshole that treated everybody at The Watchtower like dirt and your own son like shit. As long as I kept that in mind I knew that I could keep myself above everything that Dick or Uncle Barry said to the contrary."

"Wally, I'm sorry that you felt that way."

"That's not the point," the younger man interrupted. "The fact is, when Ra's Al-Ghul used the protocols you created, it just reminded me of the fact that I was right. You were a paranoid psychopath who didn't care about anything except his mission and didn't care who you had to hurt or use to do it. I knew I was right in thinking that you were a horrible man that didn't deserve the respect that I gave to Hal. To Ollie. To. . . Barry."

Wally sighed as he scratched the auburn whiskers that had gathered around the left side of his jaw. "Of course, then I got a bit of news that sort of puked all over that idea."

"The mind wipes," Bruce concluded, if only so Wally wouldn't have to say it.

"Talk about having your nice little world turned upside down." Wally soon found that he had to turn away from the eyes of the person staring back at him. "And you want to know the worst part about all of it? They didn't even do it because of some preconceived notion that it was the right thing to do. They did it so they wouldn't have to deal with the consequences. And then when I found out, when I had to keep that secret from Clark, from you. . . I just found that I had a really hard time looking you in the eye and. . . well. . . I wasn't really certain what to do about that and. . ."

"Wally."

"Yeah?" the speedster asked quickly as he snapped his head back to attention.

"Stop rambling."

Wally's initial response to Bruce's request was a rather cross look that ran across the eyes and the bridge of his nose. However, after a couple of breaths, he managed to turn away and chuckle.

"I have to admit that I was a little frightened of you as well."

Of course, Bruce's words made him snap back to attention.

"WHAT!"

Now it was Bruce's turn to break eye contact as he cast his gaze upon the cold bedrock. "You managed to do something that I could never accomplish. I know you never asked to be a hero but you managed to make a good life for yourself. You have a wife. . . children. . . I suppose it makes me wonder why I couldn't do the same."

Wally's eyes widened to an even greater degree. As he stared at the slumping figure of Gotham's dark knight, he could almost feel another wall beginning to crumble at his feet.

Of course, when a mess like that is made, you also have to put yourself to the task of clean-up.

"The Batman envies me," he said thoughtfully. "That is just the ultimate of cool."

A maximum-level Batglare was there waiting for him only a moment later. Wally countered with a familiar mischievous grin, just as he had done at The Watchtower so many times before.

"You know what?" asked the smirking redhead. "I think it's high time I introduce you to some people."

* * *

"I still say you got beaten up, daddy."

Lian's sage advice was met with soft laughter from her father, who continued to leisurely tickle the girl's small shoulders.

"Nuh uh. In fact, I will have you know that your dad kicked major boot-ay."

The 9-year-old seemed to be satisfied with Arsenal's brilliant defense, judging from the little squeal that leaked from her lips when her father's nimble fingers dug into her shoulder blades. "So who'd ya beat up? Was it The Joker?"

Roy let out a tired sigh. "No, it wasn't The Joker. It was a guy named Constantine Drakon and he may be very small but he is very dangerous and can hop around like a frog."

"That doesn't sound very hard," Lian observed as she crinkled her nose.

"You'd be surprised, pumpkin," Roy replied over the sound of footsteps nearing the room's entrance. He turned to see Alfred Pennyworth at the door, his arms loaded with a variety of fresh bandages and a bottle of peroxide while his face bore a familiar, impatient glare.

"Master Roy, as much as I can appreciate the need to bond with your daughter, I must insist that you accompany me in order to further mend your injuries."

Roy gave the former Interpol agent a lazy grin. "Yeah, all right. Thanks for waiting, Jeeves." He then turned his attentions back to his daughter, taking a moment to marvel at the warmth in those big, coal-colored eyes. "And how about you? Are you almost done with your lessons today?"

"Uh huh," Lian cheerfully replied. "Can we go to McDonald's once I get done."

"I think I can be convinced to down a Quarter Pounder," Roy replied, ruffling Lian's hair as he rose to his feet. He was just beginning to straighten his legs when a lance of pain from his shoulder caused him to let out a hiss.

"Daddy? Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, sweetie. I feel better than I have in a long time."

* * *

"I don't feel comfortable with this."

Wally let out a snort as he briefly considered dragging The Batman inside. "Calm down, Caped Crusader. They won't bite. Well, if they do bite then they won't bite that hard. Y'know, baby teeth and all that."

Bruce Wayne continued to hedge despite The Flash's questionable assurances. He still couldn't figure out how the other man had convinced him to go through with this.

"This is ridiculous. I don't want to frighten them."

"Will you _relax_," Wally insisted. "If they can stomach Dick and his Superman boxers then they can handle this."

Bruce finally came inside, if only to stop himself from asking if his first Robin did, indeed, still wear such unseemly undergarments. The two men padded their way towards the small beds in the middle of the room, where a pair of toddlers were enjoying their afternoon nap. He watched as Wally swept his fingers across the slumbering boy's forehead and took a step in closer when he saw Jai blearily look up at his father with a smile. He took another step back when Wally gently lifted his son up off the bed and began to cradle him in the crook of his left arm.

"All right," Wally went on while Jai worked himself into waking up. "This one is Jai and this. . ." Wally began to tiptoe across the carpet in order to get to the other bed, "is Iris."

Bruce remained at the foot of Jai's bed, completely unsure about whatever he was supposed to be doing. The fact that Wally seemed ready to pick up the slack did little to soothe him.

"Do you see these two little people right here, Bruce? They're the real reason why I was so scared to come back." Wally put his explanation on hold in order to bend down and kiss his daughter on the forehead. "We've both been in this game long enough to know that we're not the ones that are in trouble when we go do what we do. I mean, it seems like I've been saving the world for a couple lifetimes but now. . . Linda. . . these two. . . they're _my _world."

Bruce gave Wally a familiar nod, his own mind drifting back to a horrible night under the big top and the sound of a crying boy wrapped in his arms. Despite the distraction, he couldn't help but notice a small figure wobbling toward him. He looked down to take a closer look and saw the curiosity in Iris West's green eyes as she craned her neck to take a better look at him.

"Hello," rumbled The Batman.

"Hi," Iris replied.

The two of them stood there, inches apart, as they seemed to size one another up.

"Oh, would you just pick her up!" Wally hissed. "Jesus, it's like trying to bring the mountain to Mohammed," he added with a little less volume.

The Batman somehow managed to beat back the urge to chew the young father out as he moved to follow Wally's request. Iris didn't shirk away from the dark visage in the slightest, even holding her arms up so he would have no trouble picking her up. He soon managed to shift the girl's body so that she sat on his right forearm, much as Jai was perched on Wally's left. As he managed to get settled, he could already feel stubby fingers tugging at his cape.

"I want to give these children the happiness they deserve," Wally said, "I want to be the father that Barry was to me and that I should have been to Bart. And if my wife believes that this is a place where they can be happy, if Barry thinks that this is where I should be. Bruce, I will stay here as long as you'll have me."

"That sounds just fine," Bruce said softly. He wanted his response to be a bit more forceful but his attention had been torn by the sensation of Iris tracing her fingers around the insignia on his chest.

Wally noticed Bruce's inattention and chortled. "Yeah, Iris. Get real familiar with him. I know he seems scary with all that armor but, trust me, he's scarier without it on."

The Batman assaulted the newest Misfit with a particularly disapproving glare.

"Hey," The Flash said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I know it's not my best but I'm out of practice."

* * *

_Hong Kong_

"I'm happy to report that everything went according to plan. Cizko's hired guns not only distracted our enemies but also gave us the time to prepare for a proper assault upon your main compound."

A scream and the sound of wood crashing and splintering against the wall interrupted Vincent's words. The two men in the room hardly responded to the chaos at all, the both of them recognizing that the matter at hand took greater importance.

"I suppose Mister Zolomon is almost finished with your security detail. You truly should have invested more into your defenses, old man."

Mao Tenryu, seemingly undeterred by the unkind words of his former student, calmly sipped his cup of tea. "Actually, I made certain to withdraw my defenses. The group that your new friend is entertaining himself with only consists of those who were unwilling to leave for greener pastures."

"Surrendering to the inevitable?" The Silver Coyote asked with a dark chuckle.

"I consider this to be more of a recognition of one's role." Mao took another hearty sip of Gou Gu Nao before setting the nearly empty cup aside. "Do you realize what is about to transpire here, Mister Culp?"

"Indeed I do," Vincent rasped out as he slid his katana out of its scabbard. "This is the lion slaughtering the vulture. This is the rise of those who deserve power and the fall of those who pretended to deserve their accolades."

Mao shook his head, stunned and saddened by his former charge's shortsightedness. "You seal your fate by doing this, my Silver Coyote."

"Perhaps."

The Silver Coyote heard nothing more than a wheeze as he sunk his katana into Mao's chest. He kept his cold, blue eyes locked upon the old man's fading stare as he swiftly sliced through a smattering of bone before piercing the heart and puncturing the spinal column. He yanked the curved blade out just as quickly, not even bothering to flinch as a spray of blood welled up from the open aperture and splattered against his shirt.

"But I wish to find that out for myself."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Wow, this chapter was longer than I figured it would be. (Listens for the sound of Rachel slamming her head against her keyboard).

Hope everyone enjoyed _Modus Operandi_. I have to admit that I felt a little uncomfortable with introducing all these new characters but I like to think that everything's going rather well. Can't help but notice that I've got a bushel load more reviews than I had a mere two weeks ago and this, of course, makes me happy. My thanks, as always, to Ryan, Rachel, Shawn, Wolvbym, and Protector of Canon for their input and I'd also like to thank newcomers Captain Deadpool and DarkfirePhoenix when they get around to reading this chapter. As always, I'm always happy to receive reviews and return them in exchange. Let's keep the flow of feedback movin'!

Oh, and one other thing. I TOTALLY called Kitty Pryde kicking the bucket! Granted, she'll be back to life in abouttwo years but I knew that Whedon was going to kill her off! I swear that the guy is allergic to happy endings. Oh, and if you're not buying Peter Tomasi's run on Nightwing then you are not, truly, a Wingnut. I'm just saying.

Okay, enough drowning in my nerddom! On to the preview!

* * *

Issue #57 Preview

Some say that we are never more genuine then when we are forced to respond to death. It forces us to strip away the veneer of confidence and pride and allows others to see the absolute best and worst that we can offer. Lloyd Thomas and Vincent Culp have both seen their share of death during their short lives. Watch how they choose to respond as their pasts are revealed in two weeks time with the first part of _Dogs Howling _and the series' next installment: Confined Cognition. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	57. Confined Cognition

Issue #57

Confined Cognition

_London - The Hog's Head_

_Why the ruddy hell do I keep comin' here night after night after night. . ._

It was Mao Tenryu's first rule.

_How about you take time out of slobberin' down me blouse and pay ya tab? _

The old man made it a point to tell them that it was his first rule because he wanted to make sure it'd be the most important one.

_I __**really **__wish he'd stop trying so hard to impress me._

Never look into the thoughts and hearts of those that you protect.

_Dear God, why can't I stop this boner? Stay down, damn it! Can't have 'er soddin' seein' that!_

He said that it was up to them to choose how they would go about their own lives. He said that each person's dreams deserved to have some privacy.

_My God. I'm so happy. I don't know if I deserve her but. . ._

Lloyd snarled as he raised his half-empty bottle of Indian Pale Ale to his lips. He wondered just how far the old man's tongue had been pushed into his cheek after he said those words to him. Had he already figured out just how he would use his two latest treasure troves by then? When the stench of spilled blood seemed to sting at his nostrils and inflamed his muscles?

Then another memory slipped into his mind as the rich, bitter hops cascaded down his throat. Mao was giving him a tender smile, the old man's small, pudgy hands pressing against his shoulder blade, a small reward for successfully reading his first, full round of Chinese long poetry.

_I'm so alone_.

The Black Dog was quick to shield himself from the thoughts of the surrounding patrons and put his energy into finishing off the rest of the bottle. It only took a moment for him to drain it down to the dregs, causing him to bring the empty container down to the table with a _thunk_. Keeping his left hand wrapped around the bottle, he let out a weary sigh as he stretched his right hand towards the center of the table where the letter was waiting for him. He had made a concentrated effort to ignore the small bit of parchment during the last hour of imbibing, a gesture that could be taken as quite the insult given how much effort had been put into making sure that it got to him. It had originally been sent to Scandal, who sent it over to Nigel, who apparently had a long discussion with Bruce before it was passed along to him.

"You are invited to the exclusive private remembrance of Mao Tenryu, the distinguished, self-proclaimed Venerable King of Hong Kong," Lloyd announced to himself and to no one in particular.

Lloyd clamped his eyes shut as he shook his head and cast the invitation aside. No location had been listed because everyone invited knew where the service would be held. No time was specified for precisely the same reason.

He knew he should have put some effort into listening what everyone was talking about at the briefing. Of course, he also knew that hindsight was 20/20 and that, at the time, he had no interest in listening to people talk about what they were going to do, how they were going to do it, and whether or not they would actually do what they were going to go do. Still, he did put in the effort to tell everyone about the safe house. That was something a good second-in-command would do.

Of course, then came the moment when everybody turned towards him and Steph asked how he felt about all of this.

He replied by saying he was going to get a beer.

Even though he probably would have turned them down, Lloyd really wished that somebody had asked to come along. Of course, had one of his teammates been occupying the seat across from him, he probably wouldn't have had to deal with the young, shapely brunette cautiously walking towards him. He encircled his fingers around the base of the bottle as he cast a lazy glare at the gaggle of coeds that had obviously pressured the girl into this little display. Taking a moment to bat back the temptation to make the noisy group forget how to go to the bathroom, Lloyd finally turned his eyes up and focused upon the task at hand.

"'Ello there," Lloyd began, keeping one eye on the bartender. "Somethin' I can do for ya, luv?"

He had put a little more bass in his voice to pull a little more of the blush out of the girl's cheeks. To her credit, she managed to recover quite nicely despite the loud chuckling from her profoundly supportive compatriots.

"Hi," the woman replied with a nervous smile. "So, uh, I haven't seen you around here before."

Lloyd tilted his head to one side, perusing the creature standing before him. He narrowed his eyes until he was squinting, seeing if he could pretend that the girl's short, brown hair was long and blonde, that her expectant glare was a shy, goofy smile, and that her chocolate-brown eyes were so blue that it tickled his stomach when he saw them close up. Seeing that he couldn't quite pull it off, he tried to lighten the girl's brown hair until it was nearly red, add more color to the cheeks. . . maybe throw in that mole that he would always play at picking at until his big sister shooed him away.

"Haven't been back in a while," he admitted, resisting the urge to shake his head at his failure to fool his eyes. "How about you, pet?"

"I drop by every now and again," the woman replied with a cheery grin. "I'm finishin' up my first year at the university. In fact, my friends and I are heading down for a party. Don't suppose that you'd like to, uh, come along?"

Lloyd chose not to immediately respond to the surprisingly forward request. His mind was too occupied with trying to change the girl once again, this time into an older woman with red hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. It seemed to be going well until he swore he saw a familiar shade of hazel in the girl's eyes. The shock of it stung at his gut as he turned away once again, soaking in the pain just as he had accepted the warm pooling in his gut that had built up after an hour of drinking.

Finally deciding that he was tired of the game, Lloyd hefted up his shoulders and sat up straight. He crept into the girl's mind in no time at all as he slid his thumb across his lips.

"_You are going to leave me alone now_," Lloyd informed his enthralled audience.

"I'm going to leave you alone now," the young woman replied, a somewhat glassy look in her eyes as she did so.

"_You are going to go back to your drunken friends. . ."_

"I'm going to go back to my drunken friends. . ."

"_But not before buying me another beer." _

The woman left without another word, the wiggle in her hips decidedly less pronounced than before as she made her way to the bar. Lloyd turned to give the gaggle of students a wicked smirk, momentarily relishing in the harmless fear that rose up from them. He allowed himself to slip a dark little chuckle out of his lips, well aware that Mao would certainly have disapproved of his actions.

_There really is no turning back from this road we're on is there, old man? It's jus' like you said. The only way to move forward is to clear out whatever's in my way. _

He didn't even look up as the woman mechanically placed the fresh bottle of beer down onto the tabletop. Twisting off the cap with his left thumb and index finger, he focused his attention upon the amber-colored liquid inside the bottle as his unwilling benefactor made her way back to where she came from, her friends already inquiring about what the hell had happened. He slowly raised the bottle over his head, the gesture just another step towards the distasteful undertaking looming just over the horizon.

"Here's to you, Mao Tenryu. I didn't really think I'd be late this time."

* * *

_The Batcave_

Bruce could almost feel his eardrums twitching as the small, gloved hand slammed into the armor protecting his forearm with a firm _THWAP!_. It had taken him just a fraction of a second to adjust to the change in style that his clever opponent had thrown his way but that was just long enough for him to lose the advantage that he had worked so hard to receive. As expected, the next few moments spent on the defensive were quite frustrating. He found himself gnashing his teeth as his opponent used their superior speed to prod at his defenses with chops and short kicks.

He knew enough about his foe to realize that each move was a feint, just another series of maneuvers to find a way to bring the fight to an end. Letting out a strained breath, he shifted his long legs into a Dambe boxing stance to counter his adversary's attempt to keep the fight in close. His change in tactics paid quick dividends as he managed to block a side kick aimed for the right side of his skull. Catching the strike with his forearm, he was able to wrap his long fingers around his opponent's ankle.

Smiling as a surprised gasp escaped from the concealed lips of his opponent, he managed to land a kick to the abdomen. Looking to put a stop to the fight while his foe remained distracted, he soon paid for his pursuits when the black-garbed figure caught him with a well-placed elbow to his gut before landing a palm strike against his chin that made his teeth clack.

Of course, Bruce Wayne was not known as one of the greatest hand-to-hand fighters walking the planet just by reputation. Anticipating his foe's response, he twisted to the left to avoid a jab aimed for his right shoulder. The repositioning put him in the perfect position to use his body weight to take down his foe with a Sabaki-style takedown that allowed him to press a large proportion of his body weight against the small of the masked person's back. As he struggled to cinch in an arm lock that would bring an end to the scrap, he suddenly found himself unable to keep the figure beneath him from using their smaller stature to wiggle free. The two of them then spent the next second or so racing to see who could get to their feet first, the soles of their boots sliding against the smooth rock floor as they accomplished the task nearly simultaneously.

"You're smiling," said the enemy.

And so he was.

"So are you," he pointed out.

Cassandra Cain did indeed have quite the grin on her small face as she pulled the ebony mask and cowl off of her face. The former assassin and current Batgirl then swung her head to and fro, shaking her midnight-black hair free the snarings of her armor. By the time that she looked up again, The Batman had already removed his mask as well, a slight dabble of blood sliding down his lips.

"You know, most people wouldn't consider this to be a healthy example of grieving."

The two Bats both turned their attention to Scandal Savage, whose interest in the impromptu sparring session had begrudgingly grown the longer it had gone on. She seemed to be quite comfortable as she leant against one of The Dark Knight's many filing cabinets, her small, muscular frame wrapped rather resplendently within a woman's business suit that Kay had picked out for her during a recent foray into Monaco.

"I am sorry, Miss Savage," Cassandra said as she turned away from her former boss and towards her current one. "We are not known for subscribing to tradition."

The leader of The Secret Six casually shrugged her shoulders. "Well, seeing as how my father and his colleagues made it a tradition to eat the carcasses of their rivals, I suppose I can see some of the benefits of blazing your own trail."

Batman gave Scandal a small smile before turning back to his former charge. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to spar with you, Cassandra. I had forgotten how frustrating it was to deal with your defenses."

Cassandra's smile was nearly a mirror image of the one The Dark Knight had given to her field general. "And I had forgotten what it was like to train against one who could break them," she complimented in return. "Try as he might, Mister Blake has not quite been able to manage it."

The master of Wayne Manor gave the young woman an understanding nod. "Well, that being said, you seem to be doing very well with your new team."

"She has been an invaluable resource," Scandal broke in, "both on the battlefield and off it."

"Good to hear," Batman replied as he loosened the latching hooks that connected the cape to his cowl. Rolling the thick mantle around his right hand as it attempted to fall to his feet, he gently draped the roll across one of the computer chairs. "And thank you for getting the news about Mao to us as quickly as you could."

The daughter of Vandal Savage let out a heavy sigh as she rubbed at the back part of her left ear with her fingers. "I was hoping that I could get here before Lloyd went and did something stupid. You would think that I would know my little brother better," she added with a weary chuckle.

"We both know that Tenryu had the tendency to draw that kind of devotion from those he interacted with," Batman replied as he raised an intrigued eyebrow at Cassandra as she placed her own cape on top of his.

"Stephanie dared me," Batgirl explained as she moved to take a seat.

"Forgive me if this sounds forward," Scandal began, "but just how did you know Mao? Nigel only knew enough to tell me that you worked with him in Hong Kong."

Bruce took a moment to stretch his neck before leaning against Noah's computer console. "I'm afraid that my association with Mister Thornton didn't extend anywhere past a few chance meetings. I was under Mao's tutelage, off and on, for a little less than two years. And, to spare the both of you from any prolonged explanations, he made it a point to show me that fear wasn't the only way to accomplish something in our particular line of work."

"Greatness lies within preparation." The crooked grin on Scandal's face was unmistakable.

"Indeed. For all of his ethical foibles, Mao knew how to overcome the odds as well as how to teach others to do the same. Of course, I was too thirsty for knowledge at the time to realize that a philosophy like the one he taught to me tended to lead to a great deal of anger and jealousy from the people that you outsmart."

"Very true," Scandal agreed. "And I don't suppose that your own separation from him had anything to do with some form of anger or jealousy. . ." The deceptively aged vigilante let the rest of her insight aside, quite satisfied with the pointed glare gracing the face of Gotham's master detective.

"He was a good man."

The two field generals, without even realizing it, remained quiet for a distinct moment. Cassandra leaned back in her chair, the young woman seemingly content with observing the goings on.

"There's going to be some major fall out from all of this," the gravitas in Scandal's voice was clear within the exotic undertones of her Middle Eastern brogue. "Mao's sphere of influence extends to a great many of this world's more subtle defensive measures and commercial ventures. The battle to pick up those contracts and the authority that comes with them could get ugly."

Batman crossed his arms over his chest, his head stooped in thought about the many possibilities, a great many of them not in the least bit appealing.

"Forgive me for interrupting," Cassandra piped in from the luxury of the comfy chair reserved by and for Stephanie Brown, "but is Mister Tenryu truly that powerful? I have never even heard of the man."

"Mao made it a point to remain hidden while still within the spotlight," Batman explained, revealing another maneuver he had quietly borrowed from his former mentor. "He may have appeared to be nothing more than a businessman but that image was only to help him establish his true purposes as a power player in world affairs. His filtering of publically-leased land through a series of dummy housing projects allowed him to all but take over Hong Kong and use the city as his own headquarters."

"Not to mention that he has continuously held a foothold within the Chinese, Russian, and American government for nearly two decades," Scandal added.

Batgirl, who was not one to be shocked or surprised, look quite flabbergasted with the explanation. "It sounds almost impossible to believe."

"That was kind of the point," Scandal countered as she pushed herself from her resting pace in order to pace along the cave floor. "There doesn't appear to be any evidence that Mao had formally named a successor. Of course, I doubt that will keep a great many people from claiming that they have a right to the throne."

"And would be willing to take extraordinary means to prove their worth," Bruce acknowledged. "However, the fact of the matter is that we have a more pressing concern to deal with."

Scandal's agreement came in the form of laying her head low, her fingers rubbing against her temples. "I always knew it would come to this," she all but whispered. "I never wanted it to but I knew it would." She turned back to The Batman, the sadness evident in her eyes. "I hope Lloyd will be ready for this."

"He will be," Batman decisively replied. "He just needs time."

* * *

_Bath – The Monster Farm_

It was Lloyd Thomas's eighth birthday. Of course, the boy had no way of knowing this as he floated within the green chemical concoction that had been his only companion for far too long. Filtered circulation pumps ran along the crest of his domicile, the bubbles and foam that occasionally flowed through them providing him with brief moments of entertainment every now and again. He took a second or two to graze his toes against the transparent walls, the brief feeling of contact a small relish from, well, all the nothing.

He had long given up trying to figure out how long he had remained within this single, solitary room. He didn't think that he was going to die anymore, even if he had no idea how he would prove or disprove that particular theory. In fact, once his nervous mind had managed to calm himself, he started to take a bizarre familiarity in all the flashing lights and sciency sounds. It was as if he was in one of those old science shows on the telly that he used to watch with his dad.

The boy suddenly felt his heart cinch up in his chest. _Daddy ran away. He's not here anymore and Mum doesn't know why._

Lloyd could feel himself panicking once again, his brain and body once again fighting to cope with the silence and isolation, the realization that nobody was going to save him. Why was he here? Who would do this to him? What was going to happen next? The fact that they lonely boy had no way to find any of the answers only served to confuse and frighten him even more.

Somehow, someway, the child had managed to calm himself down as the mechanical door 20 feet away slid open. Intrigued, Lloyd strained his large, hazel eyes to look upon the group of strangers that were making their way inside, each of them wearing long, white coats and had badges on the chests. He felt his curiosity bubble to a boil as the strangers came closer, his anxious thoughts racing with all the possibilities. However, the appearance of the final arrival put many of his brighter suspicions to rest.

Of course, no science fiction movie setting would be complete without a mad scientist and Doctor Immanuel Lugae certainly looked the part. The Spanish-born geneticist and mystic shuffled across the room, the combination of the low lighting and the old man's brown, weathered skin making him look quite at home within the quiet room of horrors. His curly tresses, once midnight-black and clean during his days at Devon and Leiden, had long since turned messy and iron gray from decades of study and now stood atop his head in one thick tuft that accentuated his long brow. A pair of dark, wire-rimmed spectacles shielded the new visitors from the penetrating, seemingly all-knowing glare that always seemed to circulate from his copper-brown eyes.

The few whose attention had not been completely dominated by the arrival of Project Cadmus's mad doctor had turned to look at Lloyd. The boy, in turn, tried his hardest to be calm as the two visitors examined him, not wanting to scare them away.

"_Ilahi_," murmured one of Lloyd's onlookers, a copper-colored man who looked on the boy with absolute pity. "I had heard the rumors. . ."

"Horrible," whispered the other observer, this one a pale young woman with deep black eyes. She stretched her long fingers to caress the portion of the glass that directly separated her hand from Lloyd's outstretched toes. "What are they doing to you?"

"I would once again like to remind all of you," Lugae interrupted with his distinctive Andalusian burr, "that these two subjects are not being either physically or psychologically harmed. The chemical compound that you see sifting through these tubes is a product of my own creation that not only eases the indoctrination of demonic energy within the subject but also provides these children with the nutritional supplements they require in order to achieve optimum physical development. Or, if that explanation is too complicated for all of you, these two are far more fit and able than any of us could ever hope to be."

Lloyd cocked his head, enticed by Lugae's words. Of course, he had no idea about much of what had been said but a particular word drew his attention. _Two? There's someone else here?_ He began to look around the room, searching for the new arrival that he had apparently slept through.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lugae continued as he spread his arms wide. "You each have the honor of bearing witness to what will be the zenith of my life's work: the first successful amalgamation of a demonic essence within a human host wherein the human maintains full control over the operations of the combined body. Over the course of the next six years these two subjects shall be continuously inoculated with the spirit of the soul of greater demons gathered during an expedition of the dimensional stratum underneath Devon. It will be your jobs, as my assistants, to engage in the minor operations that will ensure the success of this program."

The pale-faced young woman calmly raised her hand. "Excuse me, Professor Lugae, but why is there such a prolonged period of exposure?"

Lugae turned to respond to the woman with the clipped British accent. "Most forms of magic are far too raw and primal to be contained within the boundaries of science, Miss Mitchell," the tone in the old man's voice seemed to expose more intrigue than condescension. "The gradual pacing of the merger of human and demon genetic information will not only allow us to ensure the safest possible transition but also allow us to better prepare the subjects for their. . . future objectives."

Lloyd couldn't help but jerk his head backward as a wave of thoughts snuck into his mind. Compassion, pity, confusion, and perverse intrigue all assail his senses, the damage made even more profound by his inability to distinguish one stray thought from the other.

_Where is this all coming for? __Are all these thoughts mine? I can't tell which one is which OH!_

The boy's worried thoughts are immediately broken once his eyes finally find the dozing form of his new neighbor. He looks to be a little taller than him, his short, blonde hair waving about in the circulating water within the tube that couldn't have been more than 10 feet away.

"Professor Lugae, this is absolute madness!" The noisy exclamation from Lloyd's male sympathizer snapped the boy out of his desperate efforts to will the other boy to open his eyes. "These are children, not laboratory animals to be experimented upon at your leisure." The Indian scientist pointed a warning finger at his fellow scientists, his beetle-black eyes alive with righteous fury. "Can all of you not see what our governments are asking us to do? We cannot allow this nightmare to continue!"

Lugae measured the man with a slow, calculated nod. As the other lab assistants began to grumble and whisper, the geneticist slowly reached into one of the pockets of his lab coat. He gave out a chuckle as the hangers-on began to twitter and scurry as he used his single-action revolver to put a bullet straight through the dissenter's brainpan, the blood splattering against the glass keeping Lloyd from the outside world. The man fell to the floor a bloody mess as the other scientists slowly began to panic.

"That's enough," Lugae said calmly, his even-tempered order shifting the onlookers' fear into shock. "And since we appear to still be requiring certain clarifications," the doctor carried on, "as the late Dr. Chopra had been so helpful to point out, you are all here on behalf of your respective governmental representatives. Each of which, may I remind you, have agreed that the research being performed here is not only ethical but also necessary. Thus, due to this showing of unanimous support, I am afraid to inform all of you that all of you can become profoundly expendable."

The aged doctor waved his hand in a manner that indicated that he wanted his new charges to leave the room, a request that, not surprisingly, was followed without question.

Only one of them lingered for even a sliver of a moment as the woman with the formal British drawl gave one last, lingering look at the black-haired boy she would be forced to examine for the next six years, her arms twitching from the urge to touch the glass again.

"Now, seeing that all of you have been briefed upon my personal policy towards noisy and unnecessary declarations of one's principles," Lugae said as the doctor rushed off to join the others, "perhaps all of you would like to learn more about what I expect from all of you."

Lloyd paid no heed to all the strangers making their exits, preferring instead to focus upon the one that had been left behind. The boy's eyes were open now; sharp, blue orbs that shone even through the funny looking liquid that the both of them were enveloped in.

Of course, this led to another dilemma for young Lloyd Thomas: just what was he going to do now? For all the unnecessary effort he had put into trying to acquire his fellow lab rat's attention, the boy hadn't quite gotten around to figuring out just what Step #2 in his little plan happened to be. His young mind raced as he desperately tried to develop a solution, the mere thought of being robbed of a chance for company already gnawing at his gut.

Finally, working on a desperate hunch, the boy raised his hand against the surrounding glass.

_Bang-bang-bang-bang_. Pause. _Bang-bang_.

Lloyd watched the boy's eyes widen as he waved his hand back and forth. He knew it was a million-to-one shot. Greater than that. There was no sodding way that. . .

_Bang-bang-bang-bang. _Pause. _Bang_. Pause. _Bong. _Pause. _Bong. _Pause. _Bang-bang_.

Lloyd let out a gasp.

H-E-L-L-O.

He said hello.

_He said hello! _

His tiny arms were quivering as he brought his hand to the glass again.

"My. . . name. . . is. . . Lloyd," Lloyd slowly told his equally anxious listener. He followed the other boy's example of thumping his closed fist against the glass to signify the _dits_.

The response was far shorter, a fine example of the many exchanges that would make up the unspoken communication for years to come.

"Vincent."

* * *

Wally West had long since lost track of the tune he had been trying to whistle to as he strolled down the sun-drenched hallways of Wayne Manor. He had to agree with Lian when she said that it felt pretty good that it felt good to squish his bare feet against the lush carpeting as the fastest toes alive slightly sank into the fabric with each step. After spending the last several weeks finding all the possible ways to find fault within his new residence, he had decided to follow his wife's advice and work on the other end of the spectrum, bathing himself in the more opulent qualities of the Wayne estate. Of course, he had started his appreciation with the silk sheets that topped the king-sized bed that he and Linda happened to share, which culminated in the first of what he would hope to be a long litany of apologies he would have to give to his loving wife and explained why this was currently a solo expedition.

Whistling once again as he pondered over Wayne Manor's precise room count, The Flash continued to complete his rounds. He had first found Alfred and Kara in the kitchen, a happenstance that allowed him to snag a handful of cucumber sandwiches before the kindly housekeeper could store them in the refrigerator. Next were Cissie, Dick, and Roy, who he found in the courtyard playing a game they referred to as Exploding Horse (out of his own safety, Wally made it a point to not ask for any details). Then, after making a quick dash to The Batcave in order to say hello to Bruce, Noah, and their guests, he was now working to find the mansion's four other current occupants.

"THEY'RE GOING TO BREAK THE CHAINS!! NOOOOOO, YOUUUUUU CAN'T STOP THEM!!"

And it turns out that he was right to guess that he would find them all in the nursery.

Wally shook his head as he made the turn into the sizeable bedroom, where Lian Harper and Stephanie Brown seemed to be trying their hardest to preach the wonders of lackluster hair metal to his two-year-olds. Robin was the first songstress to put a stop to her noisy performance, the blonde-haired troublemaker letting out a broad and mischievous grin as he made his presence felt. Lian, having not noticed that he was there, continued going for a few words more before realizing that her cohort had stopped singing and then stopped as well.

"I don't suppose you could hold off on teaching my children how to sing sexually suggestive songs until they're a little older?" he asked the girls, his arms crossed over his chest in a half-hearted attempt to look authoritative. "You know, at least until their seventh birthday?"

Stephanie pinched her lips in thought before replying. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I guess I can give it a shot. Can't make any promises though. After all, life has precious few guarantees."

"How very true," The Flash replied with a bit of pleasant bitterness before turning on his heel.

"Woah! Wait! Hold up, Wall-eye!" Stephanie exclaimed as she quickly got to her feet.

The red-headed speedster couldn't stop from rolling his eyes before turning around to take a gander at the surprisingly nervous Green Lantern. Surprised that the young woman even had that particular emotion in her arsenal, he quickly focused on what she had to say.

"Um, can I ask you a favor?"

Wally's playful cynicism returned with a vengeance. "Well, after you set the table with 'Balls to The Wall'. . ."

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she ran her right hand through her hair. "C'mon, man. Just this one little thing. . ."

The red-head, seeing the strain on his teammate's face, decided to lay down his saber. "All right, all right," he relented as he shrugged his shoulders. "What you got for me?"

Stephanie paused again before launching into her request, yet another clear sign that she was well outside her normal range of comfort. "It's just that. . . y'know. . . the safe house that the boss was talkin' about? The one that Lloyd has got set up for people that we don't want to get caught in the crossfire?"

Wally quickly nodded. Lord knows that if Lloyd's brief contribution to the morning's briefing hadn't been enough, the ten minute review session/argument that he had gotten into with Linda about protecting the children soon after the briefing certainly kept the compound in Devon fresh in his mind.

"What about it?"

"Welllll," Stephanie replied, her eyes once again shifting away from Wally's inquisitive stare. "It's just that I'd like you to go find someone for me and convince them to go there."

"Uh huh." Wally's response was accompanied by a slow round of bobbing his head. "And I presume that this is one of those people that you haven't worked up the guts to tell them that you're alive?"

"Uh huh," Steph parroted back.

"Does Bruce or Richie know this particular person?" the speedster probed, his tone still even and meticulous.

Stephanie nodded, causing Wally to let out a snort.

"Then why the hell can't they do it?"

The fourth person to don the mantle of Robin began another round of hemming and hawing. "Let's just say I _really _don't like the chances of her listening to a word that either of them has to say."

"Ah." Wally rubbed his right knuckle against the edge of his chin as he began to put the puzzle together. "And what makes you think I'm the right person for the job?"

Stephanie let out a labored breath, a move that actually seemed to calm her down. "Well, the whole light-speed travel thing is pretty impressive, the general public appears to be a big fan of yours, and she always liked it when I wore pretty colors like that red-and-yellow condom you wrap around yourself."

"Again with the presentation value. . ." Wally said with a sigh. He saw that the young woman had drawn herself backwards, which caused him to change tracks once again. "Simmer down, sprout. I'll do it. If only to stop you from looking so worried 'cause that's just freaking me out."

Robin laughed as she broke out a relieved, toothy grin. "Oh, I'm not worried. I'm part of The Batclan after all. We're not supposed to get worried."

The Flash raised his eyebrows as he saw Stephanie's bluster reignite and chuckled as she crinkled up her nose and presented a passable impersonation of a very familiar look of determination.

"It's our job to be prepared."

"Oh," Wally replied. "Is that how that works?"

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

Doctor Naomi Mitchell was happy to break her attention away from her paperwork and laugh at the exuberant pounding against the glass. Removing the reading glasses from her nose, she could feel the broad smile on her lips as she looked up to see the young man cheering over his success in tearing her away from her duties.

"Now, Mister Thomas," she warned, her proper London accent making it sound absurdly tart, "I hardly believe that to be proper Morse Code."

The doctor broke into a round of outright laughter as the 11-year-old gave her a toothy grin before playfully kicking the glass with the ball of his foot. Although it hurt her heart and scratched at her soul to see the two young men like this, just as it had when she first met them, it made her happy to see them like this. She knew she had been right to keep Lugae from learning that the boys had found a way to communicate with each other. Heaven only knows how the madman would have responded if he knew but she suspected that the life span of the lot of them would have been dramatically cut short.

_These children need at least some form of happiness, _she reminded herself. _They're raising these children to be monsters. I can't let them do that. I won't let that happen. _

The doctor brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead as she moved to check on her other patient. She smiled in return as Vincent greeted her with a slight nod, his silver hair wafting gently back and forth. Smatterings of gossip would occasionally spring up that centered around the intriguing change in hair color. Most attributed it to stress rather than to some mystic or chemical reaction, which she agreed with but had no interest in discussing any further. After all, the safety of these boys was far more important than any thought of ridiculous shop talk.

She could see the simmering anger in Vincent's eyes when the boy looked upon anyone save Lloyd and herself. The mere thought of it forced her to stifle a growl that was not at all intended for the young man staring back at her. However, the anger quickly turned way to the shame that had continued to nag her since the day she had huddled into the ladies' bathroom, struggling to wipe Dr. Chopra's blood out of her clothes as much as she could.

_I am responsible for their being here. For their being robbed of their lives. No matter how much I try to change what's going on, I am no better than that animal._

It felt as if her heart had leapt to her chest when the door to the laboratory slid open and Lugae stepped inside. If anything else, the 25-year-old Oxford graduate could take a small bit of happiness in the fact that the last few years had not been kind to the old man. His once-rough skin had grown wrinkled and worn after many months of straining to see his greatest projects come to fruition. The large tuft of hair on the top of his head had shrunk into small thatches of hair along the sides and back of his head that only exacerbated the man's emaciated stature. However, she also knew that, though his body was falling apart, his ambition and anticipation made him as lively as he had ever been.

However, what had truly surprised her was not Lugae but the woman who strode alongside him. She was a portly, middle-aged black woman whose well-tailored business attire seemed to be a perfect match with the somber expression on her face. Naomi watched as the unknown woman calmly strode towards Lloyd, taking several moments to examine the boy who calmly looked back at her in return. Biting back the urge to say something, she continue to watch as the woman turned back to Lugae, her brow knitting for just a moment before smoothing out once again.

"I didn't imagine them to be quite so responsive, Dr. Lugae."

Lugae tilted his head to one side, perhaps taking a moment to discover just what the American liaison had meant with her statement. However, it wasn't long before his frustration towards the younger test subject overwhelmed him.

"I must admit that the synthesis process has not been quite as successful with this one. However, I believe that you shall be quite satisfied with the results, Doctor Waller."

Naomi turned away from the two visitors, incapable of keeping the scorn out of her eyes.

Meanwhile, Amanda Waller, the United States' military liaison for Project Cadmus, turned her attentions towards Vincent. She regarded the boy's chiseled features, saw the cold anger in his eyes, and let out a snort.

"There's more to a soldier than muscle, Doctor."

* * *

"My apologies for being late."

The Black Dog didn't even bother to raise his head. "Don't suppose I have to stand up, do I? Ladies present and all that?"

Amanda Waller responded by quickly sliding into the seat across from Lloyd. Looking as composed and unruffled as ever, the current head of Checkmate caught the eyes of her former and current colleague.

"I believe you know me better than that, Black Dog."

Lloyd gave her a wry smile.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Wow, a lot of stuff to cover here. Got to the 350 review mark, which I would have thought to be an impossibility back when I first started writing this. As always, thank you for the reviews and I hope to hear more from you. As a teacher and a student, things can get pretty hectic around the months of April and May and it's good to have something like this that I can get away from and hear some feedback.

As for the comic book front, well, it looks like Chuck Dixon managed to bring back The Dibnys and Stephanie Brown back into the DC verse in the matter of one week. Personally, I love the idea of Ralph and Sue playing Casper the Friendly Ghosts but, like I've said to quite a few people, I wouldn't be surprised that this version of Steph is a Skrull. After all, Marvel Comics looks to be putting a lot of work into this whole Secret Invasion thing. Why not put a Skrull inside DC and work to destroy it from within? As far as I'm concerned, that's just as good an explanation for Judd Winick than anything else I've come up with.

All kidding aside, I was asked to shed some light on the age of some of the characters in the story. Truth be told, I've never really put a lot of thought into it (which I noticed when I read the story). Still, I'll give it a shot and shoot from youngest to oldest:

Iris and Jai West – 2, Lian Harper – 9, Kara Zor-el – 17 (and nearing 18), Stephanie Brown, Cissie King-Jones – 18, Lloyd Thomas - 20, Dick Grayson and Wally West – 27, Roy Harper – 28, Bruce Wayne – 40, Noah Kuttler – 41, Alfred Pennyworth – 62

Hope that lends a hand. As always feel free to give me a holler if you have any questions. And speaking of questions, would you like to see the next issue preview?

* * *

Issue #58 Preview

Don't you just love stories with lots of flashbacks? Let me tell you, they're right useful if you want to deliver a back story and pour on the angst! Well, perhaps the ever cheery Amanda Waller can perk things up a bit. Or, if that doesn't work, how about Wally making a visit to someone from Stephanie's past? Come back in two weeks time to see the next installment of The Misfits: Past and Present Regrets. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	58. Past and Present Regrets

Issue #58

Past and Present Regrets

Amanda Waller has long since considered herself to be quite the professional. That being said, as she pored over the detached glare in The Black Dog's eyes, she was already starting to feel her anger boil over. Not because of the boy, mind you, but for the fact that she hated being late. In fact, if she was truly honest with her itself, it wouldn't take long at all to recognize that nearly all of her misfortunes could be blamed, at least partially, upon the tardiness that took place beforehand.

She received her first lesson on the virtues of punctuality while growing up in the Cabrini Green Section of Chicago, where many children were forced to discover that boogiemen and other imaginary monsters were not the worst things you had to worry about if you couldn't get home before the sun went down. The experiences and stories and warnings played a large part in what she would be molded into, a woman who had never missed a minute of class at The University of Illinois, where she not only managed to be the head of her graduating class but also became the first person in her family to graduate from a 4-year university.

Amanda Waller took a great deal of pride from that achievement. She knew that she had earned what she had been given because she recognized the value of every minute life had to offer her. There was no honor in wasted time, as her uncle used to say.

The lesson continued to be hammered home once she climbed further into adulthood, when she tried her best to raise a family in that old, sturdy, tenement brownstone just off of Sedgwick Street. She and her husband had been so thoroughly blinded by their youthful optimism and their own success stories. But who could blame them? After all, if she could make it then why not everyone else?

A life of working three jobs just to put food on the table and money in the savings account wasn't the easiest of existences by any stretch of the imagination. However, she was proud to have it, just as she was in those moments when she came home in the wee hours to see her children sleeping peacefully, where no one could harm them. She knew her husband and eldest daughter were always worried about how she felt about it all and she was always planning to tell them that she was content. She was happy.

Of course, by the time she worked up the nerve to tell them, it was too late to tell them. It was yet another harsh example of wasted time.

Now 51 years of age, the current White King of the international crime fighting organization known as Checkmate still chooses to live her life for every moment. Granted, her definition of that emotionally hackneyed term most certainly did not match the ambitions of those who rush to jump off planes, get a tattoo, or work to release some other useless impulse but the old adage still held true for her.

She had risen through the ranks of the American military at a pace that has never been duplicated and most likely never would. She has become one of the world's foremost experts on military logistics, tactics, and black ops espionage. She is a woman who has the courage, the fortitude, and the ruthlessness to see the value of sacrificing several hundred lives in order to save several million and has done so more often than any national authority would be comfortable with admitting.

And, lest she forgets, she is seven minutes late.

And that just pisses her off.

Despite her frustration, her colleague still didn't seem to be the least bit perturbed as she slid into her seat. In fact, the young man barely looked up as she slid her briefcase across the table, thus allowing Lloyd to calmly open the container and peruse the contents inside. The woman slowly brought her right hand up against her chin, rubbing the loose skin and fat there as Lloyd's small fingers dipped into the case.

He soon emerged carrying a microchip that was no bigger than his thumbnail. The silver microprocessor glimmered in the low lights radiating from the fluorescent bulbs above as the former test subject of Project Cadmus held it up into the light.

"I trust the good people at Checkmate are responsible for this little bauble?" he asked.

Waller nodded. "What you are looking at, Mister Thomas, is the most advanced piece of artificial psionic shielding ever created on this planet. The microprocessor is designed to block foreign or unknown brain waves by prompting the cerebral cortex to produce safeguards that prevent the encoding of neural messaging patterns deemed unfamiliar by the chip's processing agents."

Lloyd smacked his lips as he continued his stare down with the chip between his left thumb and ring finger. "Or, in layman's terms," he replied, finally catching Waller's gaze, "it makes sure that no bad thoughts come wanderin' in when you don't want 'em."

"I find that to be a far more suitable explanation," Waller admitted. "Of course, that pitch wasn't going to net anyone a four billion dollar security contract."

The Black Dog's chuckling sounded quite like a dark grumble. "Yet another reason why you'll never see me give a flip about politics."

"Is that right?" Waller asked as she brought her hands together and locked her fingers. "And just what would the other reasons be, if I may ask? Do you suppose you'll always have me to turn to in these kinds of situations?"

"Seems like I good idea," Lloyd calmly replied.

"The Wall" rolled her eyes. "Tell me, Mister Thomas. . . Just how does a certain caped crusader feel about relying upon me for assistance in his hour of need?"

"Don't rightly know," Lloyd answered, shrugging his shoulders to indicate his complete lack of caring. "Prolly the same way you feel when you ask 'im to help clean up one of _your_ messes, I 'spose."

Waller's response started out as a frown then threatened to twist upwards into a smile before shifting back down to neutral. "You've become quite the detective, Black Dog. Speaking of which, I also have the information that you and Miss Savage have been asking about."

"And?" the young man asked just before shutting the briefcase and placing it at his feet.

"If Mr. Culp has managed to gain support from anyone on this planet that isn't already in his inner circle then my informants are severely overpaid. Batman was on the right track when he asked about a possible money trail. In fact, the purchasing of the abandoned factories in Berlin, Paris, Philadelphia, and Novosibirsk were all filtered through a dummy corporation funded by an offshore account belonging to one Carlo Montez. . ."

"Also known as Edgar Cizko," Lloyd continued as he moved to accept his newly bought bottle of beer from the passing waitress. "Who, it just so happens, is also known as Doctor Psycho."

"You've been doing your homework, Mister Thomas."

"Ta, Cabrini," Lloyd replied before turning to the waitress. "An' get the lady a bottle would ya? Still," he added as he twisted the cap off the bottle before raising it to his lips, "that hardly means 'e doesn't got something else under his sleeve. 'E's not stupid enough to believe that he can do what he wants to do with wot he's got available to 'im. We need to start lookin' for people outside this little blue ball. Folks who got their hands onto a lot of power and think that they've got a good idea on how to use it."

"I agree. In fact, I believe Mao would have made the same decision."

Lloyd looked into Waller's eyes once again as he heaved off an almost melodramatic sigh. Waller countered with an even glare, almost daring The Black Dog to counter her clever offensive. A brief, silent conflict ensued, interrupted only by the arrival of the bottle of Indian Pale Ale that Waller calmly accepted. The military veteran broke off her eye contact with Lloyd for only a moment as she briefly turned to nod at the passing waitress before returning to the battlefield.

The Black Dog admitted his defeat with a groan as he slid his eyes away. "I should have spoke to 'im sooner," he admitted as he traced a fingertip around the rim of his bottle. "Maybe he could 'ave told me something about this. Maybe I could have. . . jus' told him. . ."

Lloyd's wandering thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Waller opening up her own bottle of beer, the bottle cap falling to the floor where it soon lay forgotten.

"You'll pardon me if I'm not racked with sympathy," Waller said flatly, "but I've always found that words from the living don't really mean that much to the dead." The hard-nosed tactician took a heady sip of lager as Lloyd quickly followed suit. "Particularly when those words just happen to be regrets. Something tells me you'd be better off speaking with your actions."

Looking a great deal older than 20, Lloyd turned his attention toward Waller once again. "Tell me, Cabrini. What cha think your late husband and daughter would say to somethin' like that?"

Waller merely shrugged her thick shoulders. "I can't really say. However, if I had the opportunity, I would tell them that I loved them, I would always fight for them, and that, as much as I'd like to, I can't tie my whole life around them."

Lloyd let out a mirthless chuckle before taking another sip. He let out a deep breath just as the alcohol was cascading down the bottom of his throat, the warm liquid rushing to heat his lukewarm insides.

"And how about Mao?" he asked. "What would ya say to the man that put his foot in front of the door to the bloody Pentagon for you?"

Waller didn't immediately reply, wisely choosing to think it over as she encircled her short, stubby fingers around her beer.

"I'd tell him thanks for helping make me who I am and for honestly trying to make this shit hole of a world a little bit better." Waller took another sip after revealing her own hypocrisy. "And then," she continued, "I would tell him that I saw this coming the moment I took a look into your friend's eyes."

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

Lloyd couldn't quite figure out why Naomi seemed to be working so hard to avoid him. Seeing that there wasn't exactly a great many other things to occupy his time, the 12-year-old couldn't help but try to pick up the clues and find an answer. He figured that part of it had to do with Lugae coming into the laboratory much more frequently over the last several days, a clear sign that whatever was coming up on the horizon was either incredibly important or incredibly painful. Quite possibly both.

One thing that Lloyd did know, however, was that he was no longer alone within his cell of a home. Despite the fact that the liquid-filled glass case only appeared to have room for one person, an unseen visitor had made its presence felt. However, this new visitor wasn't here to offer him drugs or sympathy or questions. This one gave him power, power that he couldn't have hoped to contain or describe on his own.

The beast within him had been quite talkative over the past few days. Most of it was reminders of what he would be capable of doing, the legacy of what has been forced upon him, and just how Lugae's chemicals and enchantments somehow managed to keep his phenomenal force in check. It all seemed like just a bunch of information to the boy, despite the demon's apparent showing of patience while speaking to him. Still, Lloyd thought it was nice to have somebody new around, even if that someone was something he couldn't even see.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere with Naomi, he decided to turn his attentions toward Vincent. As he had guessed, it was a decision that he almost instantly regretted.

His friend's body was as still as death, the cold hatred that seemed to permanently simmer from his pale, cobalt eyes the only visible sign of life. It had been months since his friend had "spoken" with him, no matter how frequent or verbose his efforts had been to get him to open up. Lloyd could feel the demon within him protesting as he readied himself to try again, the hissing warnings tumbling into his mind as he fought to ignore them and raise his fists against the glass.

The sound of the sliding door was quite enough to motivate Lloyd to shrink away from the glass as Dr. Immanuel Lugae entered the laboratory, the now-familiar form of Amanda Waller close behind. The young man could feel his own fear and anger mixing with the barely composed rage of his demon, all of which was being directed for the wizened scientist shuffling towards him, his atrophied leg muscles making his movements painfully slow and labored. The old man eventually made his way towards his destination, his black eyes, long a focal point of many of Lloyd's nightmares, sparkling with anticipation.

"And you're certain that you'll be able to properly install the final neurological implants before next week's field testing?"

Lloyd watched as the eagerness in Lugae's pupils melted away into frustration, a familiar sign that the old man was having trouble believing that he had to continually associate with someone of such limited intelligence.

"Yes, yes, of course, Doctor Waller," Lugae said in a dismissive manner, his eyes never leaving his test subject. "Truth be told, the real difficulties lay within making the final cognitive integrations that would allow the humans to maintain control over their demonic halves while still being able to access the full brunt of their strength. The process was quite time-consuming and stressful, particularly for poor Doctor Mitchell here."

The old man gestured to Naomi, who responded with a quiet, well-practiced nod. Lloyd recognized that too. It was the reply that she would always have ready when she couldn't quite trust herself to contain her anger. However, her thinly veiled fury went completely ignored by Lugae, his phenomenal mind clearly focused on other matters.

"The final operations should be mere child's play and completed in only a day or so," Lugae continued. "In fact, feel free to inform your superiors and your fellow governmental liaisons that their soldiers will be ready ahead of their projected schedule."

Waller nodded, the only sign of approval or recognition that she seemed willing or capable of current giving. "I'm certain that they'll be impressed with your promptness. That is, of course, if these energy readouts weren't extraordinary enough on their own."

"Well, with all due respect, your government heads gave me the finances and the opportunity to produce something that this world has never seen," Lugae patiently replied. "Quite frankly, you should have expected this kind of success."

The heavy set woman remained stoic despite the insult. "The sum total of five years of labor. You should be quite proud, Doctor."

Lugae let out a strained sigh as he turned to face his frequent guest. "Doctor Waller, it has been my life's ambition to challenge humanity's limitations. In fact, if there was anything that my decades of study have taught me is that magic and science were forever contrasts; that the two forces could not possibly coexist with one another. However, these creatures, my master creations, will be my proof to the world that I was capable of proving everyone wrong. And it is that knowledge, Doctor Waller, which will allow me my final contentment."

The old man turned around and began to hobble away, his shriveled body slinking past Waller without making hardly any noise at all.

"And you truly do not care about what will become of them?" Waller asked.

"I could not care less," Lugae replied, not even breaking stride. "As far as I'm concerned, they are property of the world. Do with them what you will, just be sure I get the credit for it."

The door shut behind the old man as he finally made his exit. Lloyd kept his eyes on Waller as the chamber was robbed of the light provided by the track lighting in the hallway, the young man curious as to when the woman would take her leave as well. However, the silence was soon broken by the sound of Naomi's heels clacking against the linoleum floor, her fast steps allowing her to close the gap between her and the other woman in a hurry. The young man tilted his head to one side as he noticed the panicked but determined look in the younger woman's eyes.

"We need to do this now!" Naomi told Waller with an anxious whisper. "I can't hold off the tests any longer! You said that you would help them!"

"Calm down, Doctor Mitchell," Waller countered, her serene tone a stark contrast to the furtive display to her left. "I told you I would help you and I would. Now you're certain you'll be able to shut down the containment facilities?"

"Yes! Yes!" Naomi hurriedly answered. "I only need something that can momentarily disable the security measures that are powered by the primary generator."

"Well, then it's a good thing I have something that will fit the bill."

Waller dipped her hand into her right pants pockets, quickly yanking free a device that, at first glance, appeared to be nothing more than a cellular telephone. However, as the woman known on Capitol Hill as The Wall pressed a series of buttons on the keypad before tossing the device to the ground, it soon became obvious that there was a great deal more to it. The suspicion was proven only several seconds later as the device's transmitter emitted a short, concentrated electromagnetic pulse that rendered the vast majority of the electronics within the room temporarily useless. The hum of the secondary generator sparking to life was coupled by Naomi's fingers gliding across the switches and levers at her workstation.

The feeling of air rushing into his lungs was nothing but a bizarre form of nirvana to Lloyd as he limply tumbled toward the floor. He landed on his back with an ungainly _thump!_, his body still needing to adjust to having to stand on its own two feet. Naomi quickly rushed to his side, the feeling of her warm arm wrapped around his bare chest setting off shockwaves that sent his enhanced senses into an uproar. Scents and emotions and the pounding of his heart was enough to distract him as Naomi worked to heft him upward. Several seconds later, the young man could feel his brain once again kicking in as, with the aid of his friend, he took his first steps since that horrible night over five years ago.

"You're taking a phenomenal risk, Doctor Mitchell," Waller once again reminded her colleague as she moved to provide the same support to Vincent. "As I've told you, there's little that I can do to guarantee your safety once. . ."

"I don't care about that," Naomi said sternly, her usually prim British brogue making her words sound surprisingly authoritative. She slipped her arm underneath Lloyd's shoulder, the new position allowing her to better support the boy's weight. "My only concern is their safety."

* * *

_Bath – Manvers Hall Cathedral_

Vincent fought to control his urge to shudder at the memory, his right hand racing to grasp the hilt of his katana. The man known as The Silver Coyote continued to search for comfort as he swept his eyes over the familiar dusty pews and benches that lined the house of worship, the wooden surfaces warped and worn from years of neglect. He cast himself back to the first time he had come here, when it was the church hallways that were clean and pristine while his own thoughts were cluttered and fractured nearly beyond repair. The memory soothed him significantly and he soon found himself breathing normally once again.

It was safe to say that Hunter Zolomon was not feeling the same serenity. The speedster's paced back and forth in front of the choir seating area, his accelerated footsteps a thick, yellow-and-red blur. He had slid off his mask to reveal his scarlet tinged pupils and his sandy brown-blond hair, the bangs now hopelessly askew after sliding his hands through them one too many times.

"I just don't understand," Zoom said again, his feet sliding to a stop as he addressed his colleague. "What do you expect to gain out of this?"

Vincent slowly rubbed his palms together, his eyes casting themselves up towards the roof.

"I want to talk to him," he said as he tilted his neck to one side to work out the kinks. "I need to talk to him."

"I would be inclined to disagree," Zolomon replied.

The Silver Coyote let out a weary sigh, begrudgingly recognizing that his companion certainly had a point. "Tell me something, Hunter. Have you ever felt the need to do something that you knew that you would regret?"

Zoom weathered Vincent's gaze for a moment before he found himself turning away.

"You don't have to remain here," Vincent reminded softly.

Zolomon let out a sigh of his own before shaking his head.

"Well, if anything else, if we all survive this, we'll be stronger for it."

* * *

_Gotham City – 172 Charing Cross Road_

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

The Calculator allowed himself a somewhat bemused smile as he plucked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose. "No, Flash," he retorted. "I have decided to feed you a false location so that I can continue to endure this witty exchange of ours."

Wally let out a snort despite his efforts to hold it in. "Well," he acquiesced, "whatever doesn't kill you and all that. . ."

Closing his right hand into a fist, The Flash knocked on the door in front him. As he waited for a response, he decided to amuse himself by counting the number of spots where the cheap paint had dried and chipped off the door and surrounding walls. He had managed to get into triple digits when the door swung open and revealed the face of the woman that Stephanie had asked him to find.

"YAAGH!"

_KER-CHACK!_

As well as the shotgun that happened to be clumsily cradled in Agnes Brown's shaking hands.

As Wally took a picosecond to render his body intangible, he couldn't help but notice that Stephanie looked a great deal like her mother. Granted, the 20 year age difference had added a fair share of wrinkles and the lack of musculature made the older woman's frame look somewhat slight but it still seemed to suit her small, rounded face. The blonde hair was a shade or two darker than her daughter's but her blue eyes seemed to be just as pale and lively.

_Then again, _mused The Fastest Man Alive, _maybe that's just adrenaline from her wanting to shoot me_.

"Woahwoahwoahwoah! WOAH!" Wally yelped, eager to try and avoid having to be shot at for at least a couple more hours. "Hold on a second! My name is Wally. . ."

"I know who you are!" Mrs. Brown hissed, the shotgun pointed a good three inches from the left side of Wally's head. "I read the damn papers!"

"Oh," The Flash said somewhat hopefully before taking a bit of a chance. "Don't suppose you'd want an autograph?"

The sight of Mrs. Brown gnashing her teeth and the sound of Noah groaning over the comm. link quickly told The Flash that he had made a bad decision. "What I _want_," Mrs. Brown replied, "is for all of you costumed freaks to stay out of my life! Isn't it enough that you took my daughter from me?!"

"But I didn't take your daughter from you. . ."

"OH FOR GOODNESS SAKES!" Noah shouted. "Are you equipped with even the slightest sliver of tact?!"

"I never said that it was my strong suit," Wally relented before twisting his lips. "And shut up!" he added.

Unfortunately for Wally, his conversation with Noah did nothing to ease the well-frayed nerves of Stephanie's mother. The Flash could all but feel the woman's trembling as her tensed fingers shook near the trigger. Knowing that using his speed to take the gun from her would most likely only serve in making the situation worse, he swallowed the lump in his throat, looked the woman dead in the eyes, and played his trump card.

"Stephanie's alive."

Agnes Brown ceased to move. The stillness only lasted for a moment so slight that even Wally had a hard time noticing it but it was certainly there. However, that flash of immobility faded as quickly as it appeared and the anger once again flared in the woman's eyes, the overabundance of emotion making the older woman look so much like her daughter that it sent a ripple through Wally's gut.

"LEAVE! NOW!!" she bellowed.

"Batman's been taking care of her," Wally went on, his hands raised in the traditional gesture of surrender. "She told me about her fifth birthday party and how happy she was when her father called and said that he'd be there and how sad she was when he didn't show. You tucked her into bed and gave her a bowl of lime sherbet because she said she had a stomachache from eating too much birthday cake."

Mrs. Brown's grip on the gun was now all but nonexistent. Her blue eyes were watery and as wide as saucers from the memory as her lips slowly pried apart.

Wally put his hands down, straightening himself up to his full height. "You sang her favorite song, over and over again, until she fell asleep. _A Whole New World_, six times in a row. She says she can't hear the song anymore without. . ."

"It was seven. . ."

The Flash had just enough time to keep the shotgun from falling to the floor before Stephanie's mother all but tackled him, the woman's tears leaking onto the lightning bolt on his chest. He barely heard the sharp intake of breath that came from Noah as he gently wrapped his right arm around the sobbing woman's back, his left hand momentarily busy with gently placing the forgotten weapon on the wooden floor.

"It's all right, Mrs. Brown. It's okay. . ."

"I knew it," Agnes interrupted as she pulled away from Wally. "I don't know how but I knew it. My sweet little girl. . ."

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

The first sound Lloyd ever heard from Vincent was a blood-soaked scream.

"Damn it!" Waller exclaimed. "We took too long!"

Both Lloyd and Naomi turned to see Vincent and Waller tumbling to the floor. The left side of Waller's blouse was stained with the blood that sprayed from Vincent's neck after several bullets had pierced the young man's thorax. More armed guards continued to sweep into the room, round after round spraying from the machine guns that each of them carried. Naomi almost felt time slow down around her in the few moments she had left to her, the pain from her regret that she couldn't give the boys the life they deserved hurting her heart and making the time stretch even longer.

But then she noticed that time wasn't stretching at all. Also, she couldn't help but notice that she was alive and well.

Dozens upon dozens of spent bullets lay at Lloyd Thomas's feet, a sight made possible by a telekinetic force bubble that the young man didn't even know he could create until after he had done so. The 12-year-old stared at the stunned expressions on the faces of the guards, the fingers of his left hand unconsciously bent in a manner that allowed him to better channel the eldritch energy flowing through his body. A quiet, almost inconceivable calm seemed to rise from the room, marred only by the hum of the secondary generator.

Then Lloyd turned to look at Vincent. He saw his friend's neck and chest covered in blood and his eyes wet with tears of pain.

_They hurt us_, he told Lloyd.

There was no way that Lloyd could feel his eyes turn a smoky gray. Even if he did there was little doubt that he would have cared.

Yes, they did hurt them.

And he would respond in kind.

* * *

_The Batcave_

"His born name is Vincent Joseph Culp," Scandal began. "Born to Peter and Donna Culp, a couple from Atlanta, Georgia, he was forcibly recruited by Project Cadmus at the age of six to serve as a test subject for genetic experimentation headed up by Doctor Immanuel Lugae, then perhaps the planet's foremost expert on cellular structure. The trialing was carried out in an underground laboratory in Bath created with grant money jointly supplied by the American, British, and Chinese governments. The facility came to be informally known as The Monster Farm due to the oft-considered inhumane treatment of the test subjects. Though precious few records are available to reveal the full goings-on within the facility, testimony provided by Doctor Amanda Waller proved that both Lloyd and Vincent were imbued with the souls of greater demons through a process combining mysticism and science in a manner that only Lugae was fully aware of."

"In other words," Stephanie interrupted, "he's a Dark Lloyd. Man, I always wanted a dark, twisted copy of myself."

Robin's response elicited more than one groan of impatience from the surrounding assemblage. Stephanie, clearly noticing her faux pas, casually shrugged her shoulders.

"Who's to say that you're not a Dark Stephanie?" Cissie asked sourly.

"Well, on the bright side," Nightwing admitted. "Maybe Dark Stephanie wouldn't be quite so annoying."

"Or so nosy," added Batgirl.

"Or so ready to steal my beer," Roy threw in.

"Be that as it may," Scandal wisely interrupted before Stephanie launched into some kind of profane tirade. "It is true that Vincent's capabilities, at least in terms of energy projection and physical ability, are nearly a mirror image of Lloyd's. And, as you've certainly noticed after seeing how he has managed to manipulate the events of the last several months, he is also quite the cunning strategist."

"Okay, so walks like Lloyd and talks like Lloyd," Stephanie elaborated as she placed her hands upon her hips. "Of course, the big question is does he fight like Lloyd?"

"They fight the same way."

All eyes quickly turned toward Kara. Surprisingly, she had no trouble at all weathering the sudden attention, a clear sign that she was clearly focused upon getting her message across.

"Picture fighting Lloyd," Kara continued, allowing several moments for everyone to drudge up a mental image. "Think about how he always seems to know what you're going to do even before you think about doing it. Think about all the tricks he pulls and how he just makes it all look so ridiculously simple."

The half-Kryptonian momentarily suspended her explanation once again, her eyes cast down to the floor. After a second or so, she lifted her head back up and did her best to look everyone in the eyes.

"Now think that he actually wants to kill you. Picture that and you've got Vincent."

Kara's disheartening revelation was met with a prolonged silence that seemed to steal the air from the lungs of all those in attendance.

"I think I just shit my pants," Roy said, bravely breaking the silence before turning to Nightwing. "In fact, I think I just filled yours too somehow."

Cissie and Stephanie were the first ones to lose it. Dick and Cassandra were close behind them, although the both of them at least had the decency to be far more subdued about it. Scandal seemed to be on the verge of chortling herself before Bruce swept his way towards center stage.

"By all accounts, The Silver Coyote's mindset is fixated upon his own self-created concept of might begets right," Batman continued, his authoritative candor quickly restoring the briefing to order. "Every one of his maneuvers, from his theft of the Mensobous Luminitas to Project Awaken to his employment of The Rogues as a means to allow him to target Mao Tenryu, have all been carefully crafted maneuvers that have enabled him to better establish the base of influence."

"And we're presuming that this 'funeral invitation'," said Nightwing, "is just another power play? Are you sure that we're not just playing into his hands here?"

Scandal shook her hand. "I understand your feelings, Mister Grayson. However, the opportunity to spring this trap presents us with a chance to see what Vincent's group is capable of. We still don't have enough information upon Vincent's intentions, particularly upon his level of support and his timetable, and the only way we'll be able to learn these things is by forcing The Silver Coyote to show his hand."

"Well, if we're going all in with the poker metaphors," Roy broke in, causing Arrowette to shake her head in disgust. "Exactly what happens when we call and it turns out that Vincie's got pocket aces?"

"Operations such as these always carry a significant element of risk," Batman admitted. "However, I have little doubt that the precautious we've taken will allow us to take on whatever he has in store for us."

"Does Lloyd know what we're doing?" Kara asked, her voice subdued to the point where it sounded almost morose.

"He's ready to go, Kara," Batman answered. "I had hoped that The Flash would be able to be here, seeing as how he's playing such an integral role in this operation, but it appears that one of you had decided to shame him into being a messenger boy."

Robin let out a defensive chuckle as she garnered another round of half-hostile glares.

"All right," said Scandal. "That's all for the briefing. The operation begins in two hours and 37 minutes so look for a way to occupy yourselves until then."

There was a series of rustles as Batgirl, Scandal, and five of the six Misfits in attendance began to move about, each of them inclined to search for a bit of relaxation before having to take part in what appeared to be quite the frightening endeavor. Kara, on the other hand, remained in her seat, seemingly lost in though as her long blonde hair swept in front of her eyes. She began to feel the cold pit in her stomach beginning to yawn open once again, her anticipation and nerves once again managing to momentarily get the better of her.

_I can do this_, she reminded herself. _I need to do this_.

"How's it hangin', Kare Bear?"

Kara shook her head back and forth, quickly composing herself as she swiped the troublesome tresses away from her face.

"I'm ready to go," she said steadily.

Stephanie cocked her head to one side, indicating that she wasn't entirely convinced. "You sure about that, girl?"

Kara let out a sigh. "Nope," she confessed. "I mean, I've been training. I've been working with the Kryptonite. I've been working on. . . everything. I just. . . I don't know yet."

The mischievous Green Lantern gave her friend a crooked grin as she bent down to rub Kara's shoulders. "Hey," she said in an encouraging manner. "We can do this. It's like I keep tellin' ya. I don't plan on losing anybody anytime soon."

The former Supergirl let out a sniff, giving Stephanie a hopeful grin.

"And besides," Steph added, her brash mannerisms returning in full force. "We got Lloydboy! I mean, when haven't we been able to count on your wannabe snuggle bunny to do what's asked of him?"

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

Naomi Mitchell looked on in horror as black blood spilled over the console she had been assigned to work at for the past five years. The body of yet another guard slammed into the cramped workstation soon after that, the man's neck twisted almost ninety degrees off kilter and his gut perforated by an aperture that was roughly the size of Lloyd's fist. The carcass was only the most recent addition to all that had been brazenly strewn upon the experimentation chamber, the once pristine linoleum floor now slick and filthy with sweat, blood, bodies and bullets.

A contingent of demons, byproducts of some of Lugae's past failed experiments, were called mere moments after the sweet young man she had watched over for so long had rushed to tear out the throats of all those who came through that sliding door. The added support didn't do a whit of good, the presence of occult energies only serving to stoke the flame of Lloyd's fury. They had crafted the boy's body into a weapon and now they were seeing the fruits of their labor as he lent out death with his head, fists, feet, knees, and teeth. In minutes that seemed to Naomi like several eternities, the sound of gunshots, growls, and screams finally began to dwindle until they had altogether ceased, ultimately leaving her, Lloyd, Vincent, and Waller alone once again.

Lloyd didn't even spare her the slightest of looks as he slowly made his way to Vincent's side. Prying his friend from Waller's grasp with his telekinesis, the two young men leaned on each other as they silently left the room. She did all she could to summon the strength to speak, scream, rush after them, _anything_ but by the time she was able to even get to her feet, the two of them were already gone.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to make a getaway."

The stark, impassive words of Amanda Waller quickly infused the young doctor with energy. "You need to do something!" she all but screeched. "Your superiors will kill them! You said you would make certain that they would be safe."

"That's enough, Doctor Mitchell," Waller once again warned the frantic young woman. Her stern eyes remained fixed upon the doctor's face as her hands dug into her right pants pockets. It didn't take long at all for her to activate the satellite-powered communicator that had been issued to her by The Pentagon and "updated" by a communications outlet in Shanghai. "I promised you that I would keep Mister Culp and Mister Thomas safe and I will."

The Wall pressed a series of buttons, causing the wiring within the device in her hand to latch upon an often-contacted frequency. It was a mere seconds before the signal was received, even from the disadvantageous location of several hundred feet below the ground.

"This is Waller. The package is loose. Get ready for a pick-up."

* * *

Despite what his former mentor probably would have argued to the contrary, The Black Dog figured that flowers weren't exactly the most appropriate thing to bring to this particular funeral service. Instead, he held his saber in front of him with his left hand as he strolled through the open doors of the cathedral. It had been nearly three years since he had last visited the dusky confines inside, even though his memories of the place were still as clear as day. Of course, judging from the dilapidated state of his surroundings, it didn't appear that too many other people had bothered to drop by either.

"Hope I didn't keep ya waitin'," he apologized.

None of the three figures that calmly stood in front of the minister's pew looked to be the least bit offended. On the other hand, with the exception of Doctor Psycho's Armani suit, it was obvious that they were not exactly dressed for a funeral.

"Not at all," The Silver Coyote replied. "In fact, I've always admired your punctuality. It reminds me so much of the man we've all come here to pay tribute to."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

(Sound of loud snoring)

(And more snoring)

(And, still, more snoring)

WHA? HUH! Oh, my bad. Been a couple busy weeks in the life of Matt the Batman Fan, so much so that I had to work double time on the 10th and 11th just so this thing could get published on time. As I've probably mentioned before, life as a graduate student, part-time counselor, part-time teacher, and full-time health nut can get pretty hectic sometimes. However, I managed to bull my way through it and give all of you your much deserved installment of The Misfits because I love all of you. Or I love the attention you give me. Well, either way, I'm pretty sure love has something to do with it!

All bad humor aside, I'd once again like to thank everyone who keeps reading and reviewing. I wish I had some comics to recommend to all of you but my mind is just too fried to offer any more pithy insights. Be that as it may, I'll see if I can muscle up a next issue preview here. . .

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ. . . .

* * *

Issue #59 Preview

Ah, there's nothing quite like reuniting with an old friend, is there? You dig up all the old memories, swap stories, and soon you discover that there's just so much to talk about that the time just passes by without even having to think about it. Speaking of which, be sure to come back in two weeks so you can soak in all the sunshine and goodness from the final chapter of _Dogs Howling _and the next installment of The Misfits: Tenryu's Elegy. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	59. Tenryu's Elegy

Issue #59

Tenryu's Elegy

_Bath – Manvers Hall Cathedral_

The air seemed to swim around Lloyd as Vincent carried him into the empty church, his friend's left arm effortlessly supporting his weight. A small part of him though t it was funny that he couldn't feel any of the pops and tingles that had soared through him when Naomi had tenderly grasped his forearm all but an hour ago. However, much of the rest of him seemed impossibly tired, so much so that it seemed to take every bit of strength he could muster just to lift up and gaze at his own left arm. There was a collection of crimson blotches there, contributions from a number of unwilling donors and many of which had caked upon one another for lack of available room.

He knew he should have felt bad about what he had done. The fact that he didn't feel like he gave a toss was quite the disturbing revelation. However, moral issues were quickly shoved aside as Vincent turned his body to the left. Lloyd heard himself let out a wheeze as his friend lowered him down onto one of the nearby benches. He could dimly feel a sharp stinging sensation rising from one side of his abdomen when his awkward slide against the slick wood nearly caused him to fall from his unusual resting place, an almost incident that caused Vincent to hurriedly lean forward and keep him still. Fighting back the urge to fall asleep right then and there, Lloyd blearily watched as his friend seemed to hover over him, completely unsure about what he was supposed to do.

Not that he could do any better.

"You. . . you. . . you just rest here. . . rest here," Vincent's hoarse croak of a voice, as panic stricken as it was, sounded like some bizarrely comforting piece of music. "You'll be safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

"'m all right," Lloyd mumbled, his wandering mind wondering if his voice really sounded like that.

"I won't let them hurt anyone anymore. I can do that now." The faraway tone of Vincent's voice was enough to reveal that Lloyd was putting a great deal more thought into how he sounded than his friend did. "I can make it so that nobody will hurt us again."

"Vincent. . ."

The young man with the silver hair snapped back to attention, his clear, blue eyes wide with surprise. However, it didn't take long before his shock softened into sympathy and he leaned forward again, rubbing his friend's shoulder with a trembling hand. Lloyd responded to the gesture of kindness with a lazy smile, keeping absolutely still as he felt his friend's fingertips skim over his skin. Vincent gave him a smile in return, although it looked as if he was having a hard time remembering what he needed to do to pull off such a gesture.

"You sound funny," Lloyd told him.

Vincent's hesitant grin turned into a genuine smile accompanied by a gush of surprised laughter.

"You do too," he replied, his scarred throat deepening what would have been a slight American Southern accent.

The two young men shared a moment of silence, the both of them seeming to once again be at a loss for anything to say. Finally, as was their way and would continue to be so for the next few years, Lloyd broke the quiet.

"Well. . . any idea wot we do now?" he asked his friend before emitting a ragged cough. "I mean, 's not like we kin just be wanderin' the streets. Someone's bound to find us, yeah?"

"Probably. I don't know." Vincent was turning his head from side to side, seemingly lost in thought although his words were rather clear.

Lloyd let out a chuckle. "You know, I remember watchin' stories about all those hero types in America. Y'think they'd be able to help us out?"

Vincent let out a derisive snort, his eyes not looking up to catch the somewhat bemused expression on his friend's face. The young Brit didn't seem to notice Vincent's response either, focusing his energy upon letting out another hollow laugh.

"Imagine that," Lloyd continued with a lazy smile. "Me and you on The Justice Scouts or The Defenders or whatever they're called? Sounds pretty bloody sweet if you ask me."

Lloyd caught the contempt in Vincent's eyes this time.

"Tell me something, Lloyd. Do you really think that any hero would want to deal with us? A couple of demon spawn?"

Lloyd chuckled again, this time with his own trace of scorn. "Yeah, ya got a point there."

"What we need is to get back at them," Vincent growled. "They took everything from us, Lloyd. Everything! We need to get stronger so we can get what we deserve!"

The other young man slowly nodded, the tip of his thumb idly flicking the healing bullet holes in his shoulder. "Yeah," he admitted. "That sounds good too."

"And how will the both of you accomplish that?"

Lloyd and Vincent both panicked as they turned their attention towards the entrance of the church. Two figures were standing there, one of them short and somewhat rotund while the other was also squat but also profoundly rotund and had a great deal of broad muscle thrown in to his frame as well. The former was calmly smoothing back his thinning black hair, his small hands momentarily running over his modestly wrinkled forehead. The swarthier gentleman, however, kept his eyes locked on the young men, an almost imperceptible look of pity in his round eyes.

"Revenge can be a dangerous way to live one's life," warned Mao Tenryu as he took several pronounced steps into the cathedral, his guardian just a step behind. "It is a road that is crafted by the hand of one who does not travel it themselves. Those who choose to venture down such a path may find solace within the anticipation and simplicity within the design but will ultimately have no knowledge of where to go when the trail goes somewhere they are not equipped to traverse."

The calm old man came to a stop again, a kindly smile on his face and a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Or where to go when the road ceases to be," he added.

"Don't really think these 'ittle tykes are up for ya philosophy, Mister Mao," Nigel Thornton warned his boss as he closed his meaty paws into fists. "In fact, judgin' from the way silver hair is breathin' I'm postulating that. . ."

"LEAVE US ALONE!!"

The emotion in Vincent's voice scraped against his wounded throat as he rushed toward the two older men, his small hands prepared to pound and tear anything in his path. He leapt into the air when he was twenty feet away from his target, his powerful legs allowing him to clear the distance with ease. Unfortunately, it soon became obvious that the boy's accuracy did not quite match up with his exuberance and the height he put into his leap left him easy prey for the larger man's hairy, muscular arms. Vincent screeched in protest as he was brought down to the floor, the force of his chest slamming into the wood floor turning his keening into a low hiss.

"Come on now, lad," Nigel said thickly as he struggled to restrain the young man with as little force as possible. "No need for handbags 'ere. We just want to chew the fat wif. . . OI! Get off there, ya little bugger!"

Mao chuckled as he watched his loyal protector yank the black-haired boy from his burly back with one hand while keeping the silver-haired boy held down with the other. It was good to see that, despite all they had been put through, that the boys were so protective of one another. As misguided as their current efforts turned out to be, the longtime power broker knew that such loyalty was something that could be taken advantage of, both by the boys as well as himself.

"Bloody buggerin' hell, these 'ickle moppets are strong!" Nigel exclaimed as he struggled to keep Lloyd and Vincent under control. "I said to ease up, ya wankers! We're not here to 'urt ya!"

"Let them go, Nigel," Mao said coolly, his quiet voice somehow overcoming the sound of the scuffle taking place a mere five feet away. "After all, I honestly believe they would be a bit more receptive of someone who doesn't appear to be out to kill or capture them."

There was a clear bit of protective hesitance in the eyes of the blonde-haired bodyguard as he considers his boss's demand. However, though Nigel knew he wasn't the sharpest dart on the board, he knew well enough to know the old codger was usually right about these things a lot more than he was wrong. Finally, he lets the boys go, watching carefully as the black-haired boy almost tumbles to the ground, taken over by his own momentum. The other kid is slow to regain himself as well but the look in the eyes of both of the children are extraordinarily lively.

_There's caution there_, Nigel noted. _And fear. An' anger. Still, maybe they're ready to do a bit o' listenin'. _

As he had countless times before, Mao Tenryu somehow managed to both take his time and waste no words. "I've been told that it's been a long while since the both of you have had the chance to breathe, isn't it? In fact, I think the both of you should take a little time to do just that. Come on now. Nobody here is going to hurt you."

The two boys did as they were asked, their thoughts somehow eased by the gentle candor of Mao's words. Several hushed seconds passed as the boys' lungs took in the precious oxygen around them, the peaceful moment allowing their hearts to ease down from their jackhammer-like state. Lloyd managed to straighten himself a bit after a little while, the look in his hazel eyes shedding a bit of its suspicion and gaining a bit of careful curiousity. Vincent, on the other hand, remained cautious, his thin, muscular left arm sliding in front of Lloyd's stomach in a clearly protective gesture.

"I was the one who asked Amanda Waller to free you," the old man confessed as he bent down until he was below the eye level of his audience. "She told me about what they had done and what they were going to do to you and I decided that I couldn't let that happen. Now I can protect you," he paused so he could take the time to look his audience straight in the eyes. "I _can _protect you. However, in order for me to do that, I need the both of you to come with us now."

Vincent quickly opens his mouth, more than ready to respond for the both of them.

"How. . .," Lloyd interrupted. "How can we. . . How can we trust you?"

Mao's response was a sad smile. "I can't honestly tell you how to trust anyone," he confessed. "However, the truth of the matter is that you have a great many powerful people who wish to put you under their thrall, monsters who would gladly choose to use you to get their own selfish desires."

"And wot?" Lloyd asked as he quickly shifted his gaze from Mao to Nigel and then back to Mao again. "Ya sayin' you're different?"

The Venerable King of Hong Kong took a deep, weighted breath before he replied.

"I can give you a home and not a prison. I can give you the opportunity to become something better than what they've made you become."

Try as they might, the two young men couldn't help but be swayed by the man's gentle response. A promise like the one that Mao had put forward was nothing short of an oasis within the desert of nothingness they had been forced to endure for years on end.

"Naomi Mitchell knew that you were capable of extraordinary things," Tenryu added, further sealing the deal. "No one should have been thrust into so much darkness as the two of you have been forced to endure. Lloyd. . . Vincent. . . let me help you shine."

* * *

"Those were the first of many," Vincent reminded his oldest as he stood alongside the dust-ridden center pulpit. "That was the first of a long collection of honeyed words that the old man would always have on call whenever we questioned or strayed from his designs."

The Silver Coyote stretched his slender arms upward, seemingly raising his hands to the heavens as the palms of his hands lay stretched and open. "We have come here today to honor a great and powerful man, Lloyd Thomas," he went on, his scratchy voice reverberating within the wide confines of the congregation hall. "A man who proved, time and time again, that this world has become a place where true power is obtained by the weak and the manipulative rather than the honest and the strong. Mao Tenryu was a figurehead of our global society's customs for over half a century, a paragon for those with the wisdom and clarity of mind to gain the trust and allegiance of the strong in order to take everything they had to fulfill their selfish needs and desires."

The Black Dog wearily shook his head as Vincent's eulogy wore on, the young man far more focused in shaking his mind free from the shared vision that he and Vincent had recently endured. However, when he looked up again, he could see The Silver Coyote's pale, blue eyes staring right back at him.

"If we are to truly honor his vision of 'a better world for all who live upon it'," he continued, a significant degree of ridicule laced within the latter half of his last statement, "then we must become something truly extraordinary. We must become the ones with the power."

Lloyd held Vincent's stare for several silent moments, his body so quiet and still that he could hear the air steadily flowing in and out of his nostrils. "Sorry, mate," he said sincerely, "I'm not here for a sales pitch. I'm here to honor a man who took us in and made us who we are."

"He turned us into slaves," Vincent hissed, his normally rough patois returning in full force.

"Better a puppet than a thoughtless monster," Lloyd countered. "Now I'm not gonna start denyin' that he had some strings on our back, Vincent, but the truth remains is that he dinnit deserve what you did to him."

"No, he deserved a great deal worse," Vincent countered as he strode toward the choir benches in the northwest corner of the church. "Think about how we first met him, Lloyd, of how he just happened to make his presence felt in the precise moment where we would be the most vulnerable. Do you honestly believe that Mao had no idea of what Lugae was doing all along? Please don't tell me that you're so phenomenally wrapped up in your own misplaced affections that you don't realize that his only goal with us was to get everything he could out of the opportunity he'd been given!"

The Black Dog's first response was a slow shake of his head, his neck stretching from side to side.

"Everyone uses everybody for something. 'S human nature and 's not like we didn't get anything out of the bargain. We _did _get a home, big brother, and we _were _given the opportunity to make something out of ourselves. More importantly, he gave us the chance to become something better than ruddy fools who let themselves get twisted about by the past and hung up with ideas of pointless soddin' revenge."

The Silver Coyote broke away from his travels to turn back to meet his former partner's accusatory stare. A slight frown appeared on the man's thin lips and his eyes appeared the slightest bit downcast.

"I take umbrage to your accusation, Black Dog. I believe I have the right to take offense to those who treat me and the people I love as nothing more than tools. And as long as we are on the topic of misguided intentions," he added with a sneer, "how can you prove that Bruce Wayne's aims are any more righteous than Mao's?"

"Don't know," Lloyd admitted with a seemingly careless shrug of his shoulders. "Never been much for judgin' blokes. Still, at the risk of bein' labeled a hypocrite, I happen to believe that Batsie's idea about changin' the world seems a lot more likely to succeed than what you're bringin' to the table."

"Perhaps you're right," Vincent confessed in return. "You know, there's still a chance for all of us to work together. We can change the world together, just like it should have been."

The Black Dog couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle. "Ya takin' the piss now, Vincie. You expect me to believe somefin like that after wot you did to Kara and Nigel."

"I spared their lives, didn't I? And you've known me for far too long not to realize that the only reason I would have done so is because I recognized all the good that we can do together."

Lloyd would have given a great deal to avoid having to endure the tempting flames within his old friend's words. The blaze in the eyes and the energy within the pale face of The Silver Coyote stoked thoughts that the Brit felt had long turned to embers.

"You. Batman. Miss Brown and the rest. . . You've been calling yourselves misfits but that's not what you are," Vincent almost whispered. "We are the mighty. We are the ones that can make it so the world isn't run by the coercers, the liars, and those who would gladly destroy everyone around them just to line their own bed. We are the ones with the power to save the world from itself!"

The two old friends didn't break eye contact for a moment. Cizko and Zolomon remained still as well, the both of them hanging on every word despite themselves. Finally, after seconds that seemed to stretch for an eternity or so, the silence was broken.

The scarlet blur slipped in front of Vincent's eyes and ran straight at him before the rubble from the explosion could even hit the floor. He faintly heard the strangled grunt that stirred from Doctor Psycho's lips as the misanthropic telepath was thrown against the choir benches on the northeastern corner, the impact no doubt enough for a knockout blow. Gnashing his teeth, The Silver Coyote bent his arms in just the right position to block and parry The Flash's light speed punches, hardly paying a whit of attention to Zoom as he made a similar advance upon Lloyd.

_I didn't want it to be like this_, he said to Lloyd while he used his telekinesis to summon his katana and bring it into his grasp.

* * *

It took a full five seconds for Lloyd to regret the fact that he hadn't gotten in as many training sessions with Wally as he would have liked. Of course, he also knew that he could have helped solve that problem by being smart and getting in one last sparring session with The Flash instead of being sullen and going out for a beer but, you know, hindsight, twenty-twenty and all that.

The force bubble around him and Zolomon was enough to keep the fight in close quarters. Of course, the downside to such a containment measure is that it allowed the rogue speedster to employ his knack for manipulating time into something that quickly turned the fight into a surprisingly even-handed affair. The difference in hand-to-hand combat skills was laughably wide but what Zoom lacked in proficiency he made up for with alarming determination and ferocity. The gleaming white of Zoom's teeth, showcased on full display by the man's fixed, determined snarl, was just as distinct as the crimson streaks of kinetic energy wrapped around the man's body.

"Did a little read up on you, Zolomon," Lloyd said as he ducked and swayed around several dozen attacks aimed for his head, neck, and wobbly bits. "Tragic home life, became a cop right outta one of them police shows on the telly, went through a bit of trauma caused by some of West's baddies and blamed it on 'im."

The both of them paused for significantly less of a second, just long enough for The Black Dog to get a clear sight of Zolomon's sharp cheekbones and the frustration written all over them.

"West says you think yourself as some kind of anti-hero. Izzat 'bout right?"

The battle quickly roared back into full swing, black and red nimbuses of energy circling and cracking against the force field.

"I don't go on pretending I'm a hero," Zoom replied. "I just want to make certain that the people who protect this world are strong enough to do it."

* * *

"You had your opportunity to walk away from it all, Wally West," Vincent calmly told his opponent as The Flash phased his body through another swipe of his katana. "You could have remained within The Speed Force with your family, giving them the peaceful life that you earned for them. This fight didn't have to concern you at all."

Wally's first reply was a grin so slight that he knew it was next to impossible that The Silver Coyote could have seen it. Of course, that may have had more to do with the fact that the silver-haired murderer was covering up his face to shield himself from his punches but The Fastest Man Alive wasn't one to dwell too much on stuff like that.

"Believe me, nobody tried to convince me that this was a bad idea more than I did," The Flash countered as he tried and failed to pry the katana from his opponent's grasp. "I just hate coming into a story late. In fact, I don't suppose you mind helping me catch up after I beat the stuffing out of you?"

* * *

Lloyd could feel the stinger in his neck as Zolomon's left fist crashed against his chin. The sensation did more to surprise him than hurt him however and it only took several dozen more punches to the face before he was able to recover himself.

"So ya givin' hero training courses?" asked The Black Dog as he connected with a short back fist to the jaw. "A noble goal, that. Still, I gotta tell ya that you backed the wrong horse, mate."

The mystically enclosed area exploded in light as The Black Dog released a miniature solar flare from his left palm. The ringing sound that emanated from the collision of the magic that formed the nearby barrier and the blistering astral-spawned energy mixed horribly with the sound of Zoom's screams as the former F.B.I. member fell to the ground. Impulses for self-comfort momentarily took over Zolomon's senses as he frantically rubbed at his eyes, his pain momentarily blinding him from everything else around him. Unfortunately for him, that included Lloyd, who promptly unleashed a telepathic assault upon Zolomon's already overloaded cognitive centers.

* * *

A smidgen of blood leaked from Vincent's broken nose as The Flash landed another punch before following it up with a side kick that put even more strain upon The Silver Coyote's already overburdened rib cage. The assassin made sure to flaunt his frustration as his opponent dodged a spinning swipe of his blade with seemingly no effort at all, the sight of the increasingly cocky grin on The Flash's face quite reassuring. There was no doubt that West was more skilled than Hunter, both in terms of combat and knowing what to do with his admittedly phenomenal gifts. However, as much effort as the young man tried to put into acting like he was enjoying what he was doing, Vincent knew that it was all a show.

Knew it for certain, in fact.

"Now you see me, now you don't," Wally said almost playfully. "Now you see me, now yo. . . UAGH!"

Vincent had to admit that it took longer than he figured to alter his magic in order to adjust to The Flash's intangibility. It took even more time for him to channel the necessary energy into his katana so that the mystic metal would be able to pierce through his foe's rapidly vibrating molecules and find purchase in Wally's abdomen. However, the time it took to piece the puzzle together only made the sound of his opponent's scream that much sweeter.

"You shouldn't have let success go to your head," he told his beleaguered adversary before yanking the long blade from the speedster's stomach. As the red-headed fool fell to his knees in agony, The Silver Coyote swung his body and his blade, the center of his katana on a direct course for The Flash's neck.

* * *

_KLANG!_

Vincent tried his best not to snarl from the pain caused by the sizzling bolt of energy that crashed into his wrist. He chose instead to focus his frustration on the fact that the impact caused him to drop his sword, the blood-soaked blade clattering against the floor before dully crashing into the pulpit a good seven feet away. Contenting himself with the fact that The Flash wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, The Silver Coyote turned his attentions towards his old friend, who similarly had Zoom unconscious at his feet.

It doesn't take long at all for Vincent to use his telekinesis to retrieve his blade. Of course, it takes even less time for another bolt of energy to appear at Lloyd's fingertips, the black spike of energy sparkling from the small hands of the British vigilante.

"You sayin' ya didn't want it to come to this?" Lloyd asked, his growl sounding almost feral.

"I didn't start this war," Vincent replied, his voice a great deal calmer.

"Yeah, well ya could 'ave helped stop it!" Lloyd yanked his saber from his scabbard, the blade seeming to shine in tune with the angry glimmer in his hazel eyes.

"Perhaps."

Lloyd felt the wave of telepathic signatures just before they closed in on him and went at his mind like a bulldozer slamming through a plaster wall. Only the combination of Checkmate's telepathic implants and his own impressive neural defenses saved him from a cerebrovascular shutdown as the combined efforts of dozens of White Martians threatened to overload him. His blurred vision could barely make out the creatures' pale bodies as they slithered through the walls, their red, pupil-less eyes shimmering with concentration towards their combined task at hand.

"Of course, I could have also chosen to simply walk blindly into this particular confrontation," The Silver Coyote added as he watched his old friend suffer. "I suppose that goes to show that I'm not entirely that foolish."

The Black Dog, in response, looked straight back at him, blood leaking from his nose and lips.

"Me neither."

The roof of the cathedral threatened to collapse as Kara Zor-el barreled her way through it, a stream of heat vision briefly preceding her that burned through the bodies of several unfortunate White Martians who just happened to be in the way. It wasn't long at all before the crown of the once-great house of worship completely crumbled as more and more recent arrivals made their presence felt. They were nearly five dozen in number, a conglomeration of Checkmate and SAS forces, each of them equipped with enhanced night-vision goggles and PNO-80 flame launchers specifically modified to fire explosive heat rounds rather than a steady stream of flame. Roy Harper was quick to demonstrate the efficacy of the Russian-made, Checkmate-altered cannons as he gleefully set fire to a pair of Martians that had tried to rush him before he hit the ground.

"Damn! That is a good Richard Pryor impression," Arsenal crowed as more of his former partners in Checkmate joined him.

Dropping in beside him, Arrowette let out a grin of her own. "All right! Let's show these extraterrestrial bitches how we do things downtown!"

* * *

_Fan out_, Vincent telepathically ordered his spellbound foot soldiers. _You have the advantage in speed and range! Use it! Leave Lloyd to. . ._

Any further orders were momentarily silenced as The Silver Coyote was forced to teleport in order to avoid an emerald lance of energy aimed straight for his heart. He only had a fraction of a second to turn to his left and parry an angry lash from a pair of energy claws that threatened to slice into his throat. The young Green Lantern attacking him was nothing but a blur of green, blonde, orange, and black as she came after him, the smile on the girl's face not forced in the slightest.

_This one __**will **__kill you_, Vincent reminded himself. _And be happy to do it as well._

He knew he had to end this one quickly. He had anticipated the arrival of the rest of Lloyd's teammates as well as the possibility of Waller and Checkmate throwing their hats into the ring. However, the extensive SAS aerial accompaniment that was threatening to turn him and his comrades into cinders was something he hadn't counted on. Cursing his ill-conceived theory that Waller no longer had enough pull with the British military to pull such a maneuver off, he made a mental note to have a visit with the heavy-set, former student of his late mentor as he purposely leapt straight into Stephanie's path.

The intense agony Vincent felt as the eldritch energy dug deep into his left shoulder blade was only slightly blunted by the girl's screech of pain as he sunk his katana into her right shoulder blade nearly a tenth of a second later. The maneuver was a painful necessity, the only possible way that he could remove the present impediment in the time he needed to get rid of it. Reaching across his body with his left arm, he managed to grasp the Green Lantern by the wrist, preventing her from boring her other energy claw into a more vital part of his body. Momentarily locked in place, the two of them briefly spun each other around, growling as they struggled for control.

It took several long seconds before The Silver Coyote's superior strength won the battle, the wounded, silver-haired warrior shoving Stephanie's arm aside before using his now free hand to grab her by the skull. It only took a split-second of feeling Vincent's fingers digging into her face before Stephanie created an energy cocoon around her cranium, momentarily protecting her from harm. However, that didn't stop her determined foe from grasping the cocoon, a furious spark in his now smoky, gray eyes.

"Fly away, little bird."

Steph could vaguely feel the wind against the back of her head as she was tossed out of the crumbled remains of Manvers Hall Cathedral at roughly the speed of a sound, his telekinesis aiding in the sudden spike of velocity within her flight plan. Her attempts to slow herself down were momentarily impeded as she crashed headlong into Checkmate's main air carrier, a massive aircraft that had cast a lengthy shadow on the battlefield below. A hastily created barrier was the only thing that saved her from a wide variety of broken bones but the neural feedback caused by the ring's efforts left her unable to keep herself from crashing into the far wall of the ship's bridge, an impact that left her feeling worse than that night she got drunk with Lloyd and Nightthing and dug up her own grave.

"Ow."

* * *

Everything and nothing were getting in Kara's way as she fought the trio of White Martians standing between herself and Vincent. She felt her teeth gnashing up and her eyes growing even hotter as she watched the monster toss Stephanie aside, the warmth flowing from her face almost making up for the chill in her stomach that rose up from just the mere sight of The Silver Coyote. The conflicting sensations was just enough of a distraction to allow one of the Martians to land a solid right hook across the side of her head before she managed to recover herself and wing around her attackers. Grabbing one of the Martians by the throat, she quickly snapped the alien's neck before turning a blast of heat vision upon the other two, incinerating them with ease.

_All right_, she nervously said to herself upon realizing her path was clear. _Ready or not, Vincent, here I come_.

But he was already gone. So was Zoom and Doctor Psycho, their unconscious forms doubtlessly shuffled away along with their comrade. Deciding whether or not she should feel frustrated or relieved, the half-Kryptonian quickly made her way towards Lloyd and Wally, the former having placed himself in front of the latter in order to better protect his wounded partner from further harm. The presence of black blood and a small pile of pale bodies provided a clear indication that a number of Vincent's soldiers had tried and failed to break that particular garrison.

The White Martians that had not already been felled by herself, Cecilia, Lloyd, Roy, or the cluster of Checkmate and SAS agents were also beginning to fall back as well, their numbers reduced by nearly half as they faded away from sight. Though the messy scene around her was a clear indication that their side hadn't exactly gotten away scot free, Kara knew enough about war to realize that the damage could have been far worse. However, judging from the look on The Black Dog's face as she moved to land next to him and Wally, her friend/teacher/ohhell,I don'tknowwhatelse didn't appear to be in the mood to celebrate. Taking a moment to check on the The Flash, she stood back up and gave Lloyd a hesitant smile.

"Is Stephanie all right?"

Lloyd gave her a narrow smile. "No worries there. Accordin' to Answer Man, Tweety's bitchin' and whinin' as we speak."

Kara let out a chuckle while wondering if it was appropriate to do so. "Well," she said, continuing to push the envelope, "I've gotta admit it feels good to win one."

The small smile that had popped up on Lloyd's face faded away almost immediately.

"Remains to be seen, luv. Remains to be seen."

* * *

_The Batcave _

"I know I've already pointed this out to you," The Flash began in surprisingly good spirits, "but you and your buddy have way too many damn powers."

Lloyd let out a chuckle despite himself. It had been nearly two hours since the battle at Manvers Hall had come to an end and Wally West was well on his way down the road to recovery. "Sorry for taking too long in takin' down your old sparring partner. I mean. . ."

Wally calmly waved a hand to stop the younger man from apologizing any further. "Ahhh, it's all right. I've resolved myself to be a team player and, well, since you're second-in-command, I figured I should try and get along with you."

The Flash let out a grunt as he leaned back until he lay prone on the carpeting of Bruce's meditation quarters. "I don't think that should be too hard though. You seem like a good boss. You're kinda like Batman. . . except you're more sociable. . . and more British."

"I try," Lloyd replied with a smirk.

Wally gave The Black Dog a similar grin. "And besides, it's pretty damn rare when everything actually does go according to plan, even Batman's plans." The redhead's face split into a smile. "Heh. Batman's plan. Plan of The Batman. Land of the plan of The Batman."

"Tan on the land made of sand by the plan of The Batman."

"Ooh, good one!" Wally complimented Lloyd as the both of them shared a round of comradely laughter.

"Well, all jawin' aside," Lloyd broke in. "I never did ask how the thing with you and Steph's mum went."

The Flash responded with a lazy thumbs up. "Mrs. Brown is safe and away from Gotham in accordance to the sprout's request. Of course, I had to promise her that Steph would come and see her but, hey, that's not my problem anymore."

"I suppose that's fair," Lloyd admitted.

"Speaking along those lines," The Flash continued. "I don't suppose I can convince you to try and convince Linda to go to the safe house, could you?"

Lloyd groaned. "Well, that depends. . ."

Wally perked his head back up. "What is it depending on?"

"It depends upon whether you're smart enough to ask that question again when your wife _isn't_ within hearin' distance."

"He's got a point there, _husband_."

The Flash let out a very unsuperhero-like _meep_ as Linda Park-West made her way into the small chamber, a decidedly cross countenance lining her face and shoulders. While her husband stewed in his own anxiety, Linda calmly walked towards the two knackered, sprawled heroes. Bending down until her knees were only several inches off the ground, she briefly brushed her lips across Lloyd's cheek. Then, turning around to see the soft, green eyes of the love of her life, she leaned in close.

And punched him in the shoulder. Wally's yelp did nothing to mute the bark of laughter that bubbled from Lloyd's lips.

"I don't suppose that you got our roles reversed?" Wally asked with quite a bit of false hope.

"I don't think so," Linda cautiously replied as she finally sat down by her husband. "I thanked the man who kept my husband safe and hurt the man who was stupid enough to go and put him in danger. Why? Was there a script rewrite I didn't hear about it?"

"How do you know that I screwed up?" Wally asked as he playfully rubbed his shoulder.

"Noah gave me the play-by-play."

"Is that right?" Wally asked. "Well, I know a certain hacker that needs to be locked in a closet."

"That won't work," Lloyd warned his latest newest cohort. "Somebody'll just let him back out. An' don't be too 'ard on your hubby, luv. The bloke pretty much saved my arse today."

"Yeah! See?" Wally said smugly as he turned back to his wife. "You had no reason to hit me. I'm an arsesaver!"

"Ohhh, you're an arsesomething all right," Linda warned through narrowed lips and eyes before turning back to Lloyd. "And again, thank you for taking care of him. I know a couple of little kids who would have been pretty upset if this dummy didn't come home."

* * *

_Blackpool – South Pier Loft Estates – Apartment #311_

"I'm home, mum!"

The seven-year-old boy carelessly dropped his book bag on top of the base of a ragged coat rack as he made his way inside. Quickly sweeping back his profoundly wet, black hair, theenergizedlad quickly turned around and shut the door behind him just as his mother had taught him to do.

"Mum! I'm home!"

He was a lively, ordinary boy, his heart fluttering with anticipation that he would soon be in the arms of the person he loved more than anything else in this world. He had run back to his ordinary home from his ordinary school through a rainstorm that was all too common during the cool, early months of spring. He knew his mum would be upset that he forgot his bumber back in homeroom but he still hoped that she'd be happy to see him. She had been feeling rather down lately.

"Mum?"

The boy's pace began to slow as he quickly ran out of rooms to search. Finally, he made his way into his mum's room to find that no one was there. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he slowly knocked on the open bathroom floor.

He hoped his mother wasn't crying again. Still, even if she was, the boy knew he would try and cheer her up. After all, when she was happy, he was happy.

_We don't need Dad, _the boy reminded himself. _He ran away and didn't want to be with us anymore. We can take care of each other_.

* * *

_Macon, Georgia – The Towers Apartment Complex – Apartment #427_

The 6-year-old ran into the bathroom just as his mom and dad had told him to. His breath came fast and heavy as he locked the door, his blonde bangs sliding down his small forehead. As tears began to tumble down his sharp, blue eyes, he could hear them screaming outside.

"Roger! What is going on!" his mother screamed as another loud _bang_ resounded through the small apartment.

"I don't know!" his father shouted back in reply as another frightening thump rumbled through the tiny domicile. "Oh God, I don't know! Is he safe?"

The boy's body trembled as the sound of the front door breaking open resounded through his eardrums. Screams and the sound of gunshots followed soon after, causing the child to cinch his body into the fetal position and dig his front teeth into his bottom lip until blood began to trickle from them. A still silence seemed to hang over the home for a few moments after, an event marred only by the boy's sniffled breath and the sound of boot-covered feet stomping across the wooden floor.

_Clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp_.

_Clomp, clomp._

_Clomp._

Silence.

So much silence.

_BANG!_

Vincent tried all he could to keep the man in black from taking him away, his tiny limbs ineffectually clawing and pushing at his captor's chest. More bad men were waiting for them in the living room, a thin stream of smoke slipping its way through the room where he had taken his first steps, had sat with his mother and father. . .

"I'm tired of dealin' with this," grumbled the man he was fighting to get away from. "Give him the dose."

The boy tried his best to squirm away from the needle in the other man's hand. However, his struggles came to a stop a whole half-second before the metal tip ultimately poked his neck. In fact, the sight of his mother and father lying on the floor, their bodies covered in red and filled with holes and burns that certainly weren't there before, quickly rendered him still.

Vincent Culp had never seen death before, save for when one of his father's fish died in the aquarium that now lay broken and shattered. However, he did know it when he saw it and the sight caused him to let out an animalistic scream that was only slightly muffled by the arm around his mouth. He kept his eyes locked upon the look of fear on his parents' faces as he was carried out of his home, the horror of the image lasting well after the sedative took hold and rendered him unconscious.

* * *

"Mummy?" the boy asked again, his voice high and strangled from shock and fear.

Once again, the red-headed woman did not reply. Her hazel eyes, the spitting image of her son's, were blank and unmoving as the rest of her as she continued to lie against the cold linoleum tile, a small pool of spittle and bile pooling below her pale lips. A small plastic bottle sitting next to her had tumbled over, revealing a small array of powder-blue tablets that now littered the floor.

Amia Thomas's toxicology report would claim that she had ingested nearly three-dozen sleeping pills in an estimated 20 minutes, a supply that her doctor claimed would be enough to last her for two months. However, her child couldn't care less about such a statistic, either then or in the present time, as he wrapped his tiny arms around his mother, trying desperately to draw warmth from her, to give her warmth, to do _anything_. The boy's tears seem to fall without stopping, the water quickly soaking the back of his mother's bathrobe.

_Mummy and Daddy both left me_, Lloyd realized. _They left me and they're never coming back_.

"Are you all right, Lloyd?"

* * *

Linda's question snapped The Black Dog back to the present time. Shaking his head, Lloyd noticed the concern in the couple's eyes and responded with a quiet smile.

"'M fine. Just doin' a bit of woolgatherin' is all."

* * *

"Is something wrong, Vincent?"

Vincent let out a sigh as the trade winds coming from the Atlantic Ocean ran against his pale face. As psychotic as Edgar Cizko had clearly demonstrated himself to be, the man clearly had good choice when it came to safe houses. As he turned away from the delicious sight of the waters surrounding Ipanema Beach, he quickly shifted his attention towards Hunter Zolomon, having no trouble at all noticing the unmistakable trepidation in the eyes of his colleague.

"No, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Have our comrades' operation gone according to plan so far?"

Zoom nodded. "They began their attack just 15 minutes ago. There's been a surprising degree of resistance but they say they'll be able to accomplish their main objective."

* * *

_The Batcave – Central Computer Area_

"I've been thrown through a lot of things in my day," Stephanie confessed as she planted her feet onto a nearby table. "But I have to admit that this is the first time I've been chucked through an airplane."

"Air _carrier_," Batman flatly corrected his charge while silently admonishing her poor posture. "And I'm glad that I can continue to introduce you to new experiences."

"Oh, and I'm always grateful for the opportunity," Robin replied with a smile while refusing to take her feet off the table. "And to bring us back to the original topic of conversation, you're telling me that there's something more to this little scrap than meets the eye?"

Bruce Wayne turned away before he replied. "Vincent had to have known that he didn't have the manpower to win that fight. There has to be another reason behind it."

"Maybe there's just more to it than a battle plan," Stephanie countered, the response causing a momentary pause in the discussion as both parties stopped to think about what had just been said. "Ah well," the young woman continued with a shrug of her shoulders. "I still think you're putting too much thought in it."

Batman's move to disagree was interrupted by a buzzing sound emanating from Stephanie's power ring. Quickly sliding her legs back to a proper sitting position, the young Green Lantern concentrated her thoughts to form the image that the eldritch artifact had asked her to create. It turned out to be the spectral representation of a face that both Batman and Robin were able to recognize with little trouble, the stern expression on the man's face being quite familiar.

"John?" Stephanie asked John Stewart, a fellow member of Earth's contingent of the Green Lantern Corps. "What the hell is going on?"

The often crinkled brows of the former USMC officer were sternly knitted as he spoke. "This is an all-hands emergency, Green Lantern. Sinestro is attacking Oa and he's got a hell of a lot of backup!"

* * *

Misfits Confidential

(Pants in exhaustion before tumbling over)

Don't ask me how I managed to get this issue churned out on time. And really don't ask me how I managed to turn what was 2,500 words on Thursday evening into the whopper of an issue you see before you less than two days later. That being said, I do hope you enjoy it. As for me, finals week is wrapping up down here at The University of Memphis and I'm eager to have another semester of graduate school down the crapper where it belongs. I wish I could recommend some comics but the fact that it's the end of a semester also means that I'm out of the time and money to actually buy or read anything. Just be sure to stay away from Winick and you should be fine. Oh, and by the way, the first issue of Judd Winick's _Titans_ series was all kinds of horrible awfulness. I'm not even certain if awfulness is a word but it seems to fit and I plan on using it.

As always, a big round of applause and thanks for everyone reading and reviewing. Here's hoping I didn't depress you too much with this arc and that you'll be ready for the next one.

Oh, and Wolvmbm? I _told _you I'd get to him someday, didn't I?

* * *

Issue #60 Preview

He is the heir to the power of Prohl Gosgotha and is arguably the greatest Green Lantern of all time. A champion of law and order whose methods have drawn fear and inspiration across the cosmos, this man was responsible for the creation of one of the most well-arranged societies in all of recorded history. Betrayed by those he had nobly fought alongside for decades, this warrior has made it life's ambition to eliminate those who would abuse the honest efforts of those who wish to make their home a better and safer place.

His name is Sinestro.

And he has declared war.

_Power Play_ begins in the next installment of The Misfits: No Wasted Time. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	60. Wasted Time

Issue #60

Wasted Time

Alfred was bright enough to recognize that he'd probably have been labeled a hypocrite had he voiced his particular standing concern aloud. That being said, he still felt that Wayne Manor had become a little too crowded for his personal preferences. The proof behind this particular opinion was given a great deal more reinforcement as he descended down the stone stairwell that formed the bridge between Wayne Manor proper and the catacombs below. There he was assaulted by a wave of noise and activity that easily muted the sound of the heels of his dress shoes clacking against the stone flooring.

The former Interpol agent and the current caretaker of Wayne Manor caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye and felt the need to follow it. His journey led him into a hollowed out portion of the cavern that had recently become the Trophy Room after a brief moving session that consisted of a flurry of activity from Kara and Lloyd and a frenzy of excited questions fired by Stephanie Brown and aimed for anyone who was willing to pay attention to her. As Bruce Wayne's caretaker wondered just how in the name of God one person could have so many questions about a giant penny, he discovered that the source of the blur of red was a giant of a woman, a well put together mass of muscle and bare skin. He found himself taken aback despite himself, which was fine considering that the woman was focusing her attention upon Master Bruce's old photographs of Alan Scott.

"Greetings, manservant. Does your superior require my attendance within the mission briefing?"

"No, Miss. . . Knockout, I believe it is?" Alfred replied, taking no umbrage with the former Fury's unflattering label for him. "I was merely checking to see if you required any assistance."

Knockout's small smile seemed to reveal that she genuinely appreciated the gesture. "Not at all, manservant. I was merely admiring your master's collection. You should be proud that you are within the employ of such an oft-honored warrior."

"I do take a bit of pride into it," Alfred honestly answered. "Every now and again."

The ruby-haired beauty nodded before turning her attention toward another bit of memorabilia. "I have also managed to create a modest collection of honorariums during my brief amount of time spent on this planet. As a matter of fact, I am particularly proud of the skull of the White Martian that I acquired with the aid of Mister Thomas' blade, despite the difficulty of finding someone who would be willing to stuff it."

"Ah, well I can see where you would have a great deal of difficulty with such a thing." If Alfred was confused about where to go with this conversation before then he was certainly thrown now. "Well, if you do not need anything. . ."

Unfortunately, Mister Pennyworth managed to turn away from one situation and into an occasion that had the potential to become even worse.

"Good evening, Mister Pennyworth," greeted Victor Fries, the armored cryogeneticist better known to the world as Mister Freeze. The supports provided by the man's armored carapace allowed Fries to tower over Alfred by well over a foot. The butler could almost feel the burn in his stomach as Fries' red eyes looked down upon him, the memories of Freeze's past exploits in Gotham City running through his mind like a movie reel.

Never really a student in the class of reading emotions, it was quite providential that the cold-bodied widower seemed to sense Alfred's distress. "I must admit that this situation has the potential to be quite distressing. I was quite hesitant about returning to Gotham, given my past history. That being said, I am quite pleased that I have the opportunity to give back to the home that I have taken so much from."

The butler let out a breath that he didn't even know that he had been holding. "Well, on behalf of Gotham City, allow me to say that, if your efforts are genuine, we truly appreciate them." Alfred 

easily accepted Freeze's nod with a brief dip of his neck in return. "Is there anything that you require, Mister Fries?"

"Not at all, Mister Pennyworth. My armor system supplies me with all the sustenance my body requires. I was merely checking upon my colleague. She has a long-standing proclivity for finding trouble within these kinds of situations."

"Bite your tongue, Fries," Knockout snapped as she turned her attention back towards the pair of quiet gentlemen. "Lest I choose to claim another prize for my trophy room."

Alfred wisely chose to walk away as the former Blackgate inmate let out a tired sigh, his old limbs taking him back into the central room of The Batcave. Though the number of occupants within this area was significantly higher, the volume of the activity was also a great deal more subdued. No less than 14 men and women were clustered around Mister Kuttler's main monitor, with two more gentlemen attending the hastily planned conference with the aid of the Justice League's extensive satellite network. The face of John Stewart, the stoic former military man and current field trainer for the galactic police force known as the Green Lantern Corps, occupied the main monitor, the man's words wafting from the speakers with a clear air of authority.

"Hot shit, the whiskey's here!" a voice exclaimed, the volume behind it causing Alfred to startle. His slightly frayed nerves were in no ways assured as he took in a whiff of cigar smoke as Floyd Lawton all but snatched the decanter of 30-year-old whiskey off of his serving tray. "Ooh, hoo, hoo, this is going to be good!" the assassin known as Deadshot shouted after taking a long, hearty sniff of the amber liquid. "Damn, Scandal! Why can't we get a human manservant like Batsie's got? Those little alien midgets creep the shit out of me!"

Though a great many people expressed their discontent toward Floyd Lawton's interruption, it was Catman's long weary sigh that Alfred had picked up on. "I'm sorry about him, Mister Pennyworth. Apparently my partner still needs some housetraining."

Deadshot responded to his friend's jibe with a lazy smile and a sip of Glenfiddich. "Still reckon you're wasting your goddamn time," he suggested just before letting out an appreciative puff as the deliciously bitter liquid made its way down to his liver. "Happen to like me just the way I am, thank you very much."

"But you would do well to remember that there are a great many people who believe that you could stand for a bit of improvement," interrupted Scandal Savage with a heaving helping of impatience. "So you'd do well to shut your trap."

"Agreed," The Batman sternly added, the look in Bruce Wayne's eyes showing that he was more than ready to remind the former Suicide Squad member of their jaunt on the giant typewriter. "Go ahead, John, and I apologize for the interruption."

"That's quite all right, Batman." The candor within the man's voice was a clear indication that John Stewart had a great deal of patience. It was a talent that the Gulf War veteran had developed during his many years within the United States Marine Corps, a profession where he was frequently asked to mold unprepared souls into some of the nation's most determined guardians. His capacity for endurance continued to grow during his later years as a thriving architect and his long tenure as a Green Lantern, a combination of professions that forced him to frequently deal with testy city officials, Hal Jordan's histrionic displays of attempted heroism, furious construction unions, and Guy Gardner's sheer desire to be an asshole. Running a hand over his black crew-cut, he quickly returned to the task at hand.

"The invasion force is calling themselves The Sinestro Corps. As you probably could have guessed, they appear to be organized around the same principles as The Green Lantern Corps, with each sector space represented by its own representative, which means that they are about 10,000 in number. Nearly two hours ago, they conducted a full-on attack of Oa's security defenses, killing dozens of Green Lanterns and injuring a whole lot more."

Roy Harper let out a whistle as the grim-faced Green Lantern paused in his explanation. "Okay. Does anybody happen to know how 'Grape Ape' managed to form himself an army?"

Stephanie let out a snort as she turned to face Roy. "'Grape Ape'? And here I was always calling him 'The Magic Moustache Man'."

"Regardless of how you guys want to refer to him," John interrupted, "his group almost managed to take Oa in one fell swoop. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't have been able to make this communiqué if The Guardians hadn't managed to use the main power battery to set up a barrier that could repel Sinestro's troops. Then again, we're not even certain how long _that's _going to hold up."

"Well, it's nice to see the blue faces are finally managing to pull their weight," Stephanie said sourly, referring to the creators of Oa's central power battery which served as the power well for nearly all members of The Green Lantern Corps. "And you're telling me that you guys couldn't have seen something as big as this coming at you before it showed up on your doorstep?"

"I think the bigger question," Batman wisely interposed, "is just how Sinestro managed to acquire the power to create such an army."

"I'm afraid that is something we are still trying to determine," Stewart replied. "What little information that we have managed to acquire from the preliminary skirmish seems to indicate that the rings are powered by fear rather than willpower."

"What the hell? Fear?" interjected Arrowette. "What kind of weapon is that?"

"Maybe the little chicken shits were fresh out of nukes," offered Deadshot as he puffed out another blast of repulsive gray smoke into the somewhat stale air around him.

"I would not be so hasty to dismiss the potency of that particular emotion."

Quite of a few faces within The Batcave turned their sights toward J'onn Jonnz, the creature that had previously been the lone standing link between The Misfits and The Justice League before Stewart had come forward with news that had turned one world upside down and was threatening to do the same thing with their own. The lone survivor of the Green Martians was capable of attending the briefing from his normal post at The Watchtower thanks to a standing signal from one of Bruce's private satellites whose activity had been shielded from prying eyes thanks to the diligent efforts of one Noah Kuttler.

"Fear is a part of all that lives," explained The Martian Manhunter. "It is something that can be found within our actions, within our successes and our failures, and within all those who thirst for power. Perhaps most importantly, fear can always be counted upon to make its presence felt within war."

"Well, there's plenty of fear over here as well," Stewart added. "In fact, I'm afraid that I've got even more bits of bad news that we can throw into the crock pot. We've managed to identify some of the core members of Sinestro's squad of generals."

"Upstanding citizens of their community I'm sure," Lloyd offered.

"Not in the least," Stewart replied with a similar degree of sarcasm. "We've got Amon Sur, a fellow who's had his share of run-ins with Hal Jordan and has recently acquired a taste for genocide, Leokar Kurkosaw, a war merchant from the Dolar system that's been put in charge of handling prisoners of war, and Hank Henshaw. . - "

"The Cyborg?!" barked Nightwing. "How the hell did he get involved with this?"

"Rumor is that he was in league with The Manhunters when Sinestro began his recruitment drive."

"Manhunters?" asked Catman.

"The predecessors to The Green Lantern Corps," J'onn threw in. "They were a race of androids originally designed by The Guardians of The Universe in order to serve as a galactic police force," J'onn threw in. "The creatures eventually gained sentience and began to disagree with the established intentions of The Guardians as well as with their creators' definition of justice and have since become one of The Corps' greatest adversaries."

"That's a fair enough definition," Stewart admitted as he thrust the spotlight upon himself once again. "And I'm afraid the news gets even worse than that. In fact, reports gathered by sources within the Rann system claim that The Anti-Monitor is also included among their ranks."

The uproar that quickly rose and rumbled through The Batcave was a combination of fear, shock, and foreboding. The nosiest declarations came from Nightwing and Robin, both of whom appeared to be competing to see which one of them could squawk the loudest.

Kara's protest was far more reasonable "That's impossible, Mister Stewart. We destroyed The Anti-Monitor when we killed Superboy Prime."

"Hate to point this out," Lloyd reminded the half-Kryptonian as well as the others in attendance, "but The Anti-Monitor survived his body being shattered to pieces and his soddin' soul bein' shifted throughout all of reality. An' besides, its just like Batson said. There wasn't any bloody guarantee that a beastie like that could be destroyed."

"And just when were all of you going to inform us of these incidents!" Stewart snapped, his lack of knowledge obviously a source of frustration for him. "Batman, The Corps allowed Stephanie to work with you because they had been ensured that you would be responsible with how she would be deployed. How do you expect to explain your actions?"

"My assurances that they have conducted themselves properly should be more than enough proof for you at this time, Mister Stewart," the Martian Manhunter's rejoinder was equally unyielding. "In fact, perhaps I should remind you to maintain full confidentiality of our team's actions should you wish to have our assistance."

"I could easily report Stephanie's actions to the Corps," Stewart countered.

"First of all, how about going the extra mile and talking to me rather than about me," Stephanie fired back as the jade aura around her body intensified. "Second of all, no offense, Johnny Tremain, but I answer to the Guardians, not to you or anybody else on the Corps. Third of all, I'm not about to leave my family in the lurch so they're coming along whether anybody else likes it or not. Got it?"

"Stephanie. Gentlemen." Scandal broke in, her hands lowered in a conciliatory gesture. "This is hardly the time to argue over semantics. We all have the same intentions here."

"Agreed," Batman concurred, his tall, muscular frame sliding in front of the fair-haired Green Lantern. "I promise that you'll have your explanations, John. However, we need to tend to this matter first."

It didn't take long for John Stewart to either reply or maintain his professionalism. "The Guardians are capable of opening the transmat system outside of Earth's ionosphere within a moment's notice. Will you be able to be properly prepared in two hours time?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Batman swiftly replied. "I will have my information specialist prepare a frequency that will allow you to send the proper coordinates."

"That's fine by me. Stewart out."

The main monitor quickly faded back to black, a sight that quickly coincided with the sound of plastic wheels sliding against stone as The Calculator wordlessly made his way towards his communication station. Grabbing his headphones in a flash, the bespectacled hacker quickly responded to Stewart's communiqué and was soon upon the task of deciphering it.

While this was going on, The Batman turned towards the assemblage before him. "We will be dividing our forces into two groups: one who will accompany Stephanie on her trip to Oa while the other remains in Gotham in order to maintain patrols as well as to monitor Vincent's activities. Lloyd will be in charge of the space squad seconded by Robin and accompanied by Kara, Arsenal, Flash, and whatever members of The Secret Six that Miss Savage believes would be useful for the task at hand."

The remonstrations aimed at The Batman's plans began to bubble forth even before Bruce was able to fully reveal them.

"Boss, I gotta say that I've got issues with this one," Lloyd began.

"Bruce, we barely managed to keep up with The Silver Coyote's group at full strength," Dick truthfully added. "What are we supposed to do if all the big guns are at the other end of the god damn universe?"

"I must agree with The Batman," J'onn interrupted, his speaker-amplified response quickly silencing any other potential objections. "The Justice League is now well-aware of The Silver Coyote's forces. Furthermore, the planet's standing forces should be more than enough for whatever his forces can throw at us. And, at the risk of coming off as detached, the threat The Sinestro Corps presents to all that lives must take precedence over the affairs of our planet."

"Can I throw something in here?" Roy broke in while meekly raising his left hand. "Battyman, if you don't mind my saying so, I really don't think that _deep space_ is really the spot for me."

The Batman twisted his gaze once again to meet the caution in the sharpshooter's eyes. "I would have minded less if you could have saved your issue until we could speak about it privately." Bruce let out a sigh while Roy busied himself by looking significantly sheepish. "And I must also disagree with you. I believe that you'll be more than comfortable within this environment."

Harper quirked his lips. "Well, much as I appreciate the words, the only thing I can see is me trying to take on the most powerful weapons in the universe with a couple of tranq guns and my six-pack abs."

"Well, they are rather nice," Ragdoll piped in. "Exquisitely well-structured," he added, thus drawing concerned looks from many of the men and women around the contortionist.

"Then you're just going to have to be a bit more creative," The Batman countered before turning to his fellow field commander. "Scandal, would you like any of your team members to be a part of the space team?"

"Absolutely."

Much of the crowd swerved about once again to see Kay Reynolds striding forward, a fervent grin lining the handsome features of the statuesque redhead.

"It would be a pleasure to test my mettle against such powerful foes," Knockout added. "In fact, perhaps the only thing that could be greater than such an honor is the distinction to once again fight alongside such stalwart combatants."

"You're not going, Kay," Scandal said shortly, refusing to look her lover in the eye. "Victor, I want you to accompany the Oa team and follow The Black Dog's orders to the letter."

"You should not be trying to keep me safe, poppet," Knockout said softly in a tone that would have been far harsher had the previous order come from anyone else. "I am a warrior tempered upon the very flame pits of Apokolips."

"And that tempering won't do you a bit of good if you manage to end up stranded in space," Scandal firmly countered. "Mister Freeze's armor, on the other hand, is more than capable of handling the strain."

"Scandal is right, Miss Reynolds," Fries said in his normal, even tone. "I suppose I will simply have to do your part, my lady."

The strongwoman of The Secret Six examined her quiet comrade for a moment or two, cocking her graceful neck to one side, before she ultimately gave Victor a toothy grin. "Very well, Freeze. And, on the bright side, this will offer me the opportunity to keep my little poppet safe as well."

Scandal kept her face held high, easily weathering the chuckling from some of the surrounding vigilantes.

Deadshot, on the other hand, let out a growl accompanied by cigar smoke. "How about you keep ya little prelude to rug munchin' away from my ears. It's bad enough that I'm not getting any that I gotta deal with you two talkin' about it all the damn time."

The auburn-haired leader of The Secret Six turned her sharp eyes toward her scurrilous confidante. "As far as your second complaint is concerned, Mister Lawton, feel free to turn your ears away. However, your first grievance is something that you're going to have to deal with on your own."

Deadshot felt the need to snarl until he found himself shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, well," he relented, before turning to the person standing to his left. "Hey! Arrow Girl! Ya want a tumble in the hay?"

"I think it's safe to say this meeting is adjourned," The Batman wisely broke in before his patrol partner could cull up a response any more violent than a deadly stare. "Those in Lloyd's team will return here in an hour's time to receive further instructions." He let out a weary sigh as Nightwing raced to get between Arrowette and Deadshot as the former looked ready to beat the latter unconscious with her bow. A great deal of the team made their way out of The Batcave once the potential scrap had been broken up, each of them looking for the best way to spend the next 60 minutes.

"Once again," Nightwing reminded his father once Arrowette and Deadshot had gone their separate ways, "I don't like this one bit."

"And I second it once again," Lloyd added before quirking his lips upward. "Wait a tick. . . You seconded me last time, right?"

"I think so," Nightwing said, the two debaters turning to lock eyes with one another in an attempt to momentarily humor themselves. Watching the display, The Batman didn't even bother shaking his head.

"I think it's safe to presume that nobody is a big fan of this particular situation," Scandal clarified as she moved to stand at Bruce's side once again.

"Agreed," J'onn threw in from his vantage point within the communications nervous center of the Watchtower satellite floating several hundred miles above southern Madagascar. "However, I believe we also agree that the matter with Sinestro is something that requires our attention."

"True on that," The Black Dog confessed as he wrapped his short, bony fingers around his chin. He rubbed the hints of stubble that had formed within the dimples of his cheeks as he traced his thumb over the split lower lip given to him thanks to a particularly harsh punch from a now exceedingly dead White Martian. "An' it looks like it's up to me to make sure that everybody comes back from this little jaunt wit' a clean bill of health."

"You already know what to do, Lloyd," The Batman told him confidently. "All that's left is for you to go and do it."

* * *

_The Batcave – Training Facility #3_

It didn't take much effort at all for Nightwing to zero in on Stephanie's location. As a matter of fact, the only bit of detective work he had to put in was to simply follow the sound of a small fist crashing into a pile of sand held together by a large leather and vinyl bag attached to a sturdy chain.

_Whap! Whap! Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! Whapwhap! _

A deeper, heavier sound accompanied by a harsh squeaking from the chain soon revealed that a kicks were starting to be thrown into the mix. Dick could almost see the boot-clad feet flying into action, delivering sharp, concentrated blows that were intended for a great many things beside the heavy bag. Dick did not bother to put even a hint of stealth into his movements as he turned the corner and found the current Robin hammering away in the common training area. Just as he expected, the girl's power ring lay neatly upon a nearby bench as the Earth's youngest Green Lantern attacked her target with all the strength her all-too-human body could muster.

The raven-haired man still had a hard time believing that this was the same girl that had spent so many months following Tim around like a lonely, lovesick puppy. He hadn't had the opportunity to work with her as often as he'd like but each of the few experiences he did share with her clearly told him all that he needed to know about her. Lots of emotion but no control to go along with it. Now, however, the two integral elements seemed to have been solidly mixed together, creating a tough little fighter whose persistence and will power managed to occasionally frighten the former acrobat.

The flurry of activity finally came to a halt, the seemingly tired whining of the swinging chain sounding almost grateful. Letting out a breath, Stephanie solidly placed her hands upon her slight hips.

"How about getting your fine ass in here and sayin' what's on your damn mind?"

Needing no further invitation, Dick calmly made his way inside. The girl finally turned towards him when he had taken about five steps in, a small trickle of sweat sliding down the left side of her heart-shaped face.

"That's funny. I would have thought that you'd be on your way to see your mother." Nightwing's tone was calm and easy, partially because he had a good idea about the response he would receive in return.

"Funny. I would have thought that it wasn't any of your damn business."

_And Wally's always saying that I'm a crap detective_, Nightwing thought ruefully. "Well, I'm sorry, but I think it turns out that it is so I'll just go ahead and ask. . ."

Stephanie hastily interrupted what obviously was to come with another jab to the heavy bag. "I'm scared, all right?" The 18-year-old gave the sack a contemplative stare as it swung back to its resting point.

"I'm afraid that answer doesn't really wash with you." Nightwing crossed his slim but muscular arms over his similarly structured chest, a cocky grin on his face that only served to stir up the younger vigilante's anger and doubt.

The young woman landed another solid pair of jabs before turning back to her friend once again. "I'm just not ready, okay? At least not to say everything that needs to be said in, like, an hour or friggin' so. She deserves more than that."

"And you're telling me that's the only reason?" Dick asked, his arms still crossed.

Stephanie cast her head down as she slid away from Dick's inquisitive stare. "Just make certain she stays safe, all right? Keep everybody safe."

Grayson's almost playful countenance turned a titch more serious. "You're placing quite a bit of responsibilities on my plate here, sprout. You sure that I'm the right person to ask about this?"

Now it was Stephanie's turn to get firm, the fire momentarily returning to her pale, blue eyes. "There's not a doubt in my mind, Dickie. After all, we both know that Bruce can grow blinders sometimes so you're going to have to keep track of our family since I'm not going to be around to do it."

"Steph. . ." Dick almost whispered.

"You can't fail at this, Dick! You hear me? And not just for everybody else either. You need to do this for yourself!"

Dick could feel himself backpedaling as Stephanie moved forward. She placed her small hands upon his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles as a part of his mind tried to figure out just why he felt the need to shift his ground.

"There's a big reason why everybody wants to work with you, Nightthing. It's because you deserve to be in the center ring and, right now, everybody seems to know that except you. Bruce believes in you, Roy and Wally believe in you, and I believe in you so get back out to that spotlight, all right?"

A quiet, almost shy grin served as Nightwing's initial reply. "Gee, Steffers. You've developed quite a knack for making sappy, emotional speeches."

Robin refused to rise to the bait, choosing instead to lean in close and kiss her predecessor on the cheek.

"I do believe in you, Dick," Stephanie repeated as she left the training room. "Whether you believe in yourself or not."

Nightwing remained still for several handfuls of seconds after Robin had left the room. Shortly after that, the squeaking of the heavy bag's chain could clearly be heard through the surrounding space.

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

Roy Harper hated this more than anything else in this world.

He hated this more than the sight of the needle scars that lined the skin around his wrists and the memories that came with them. More than the thought of all the time and effort he had put into making sure that Ollie would love him and see what he could do before realizing that a whole lot of it was for less than nothing. More than Teletubbies or the penguin movies he'd always get dragged to or that soon-to-be skeeze Hannah Nebraska or whatever the hell her name was.

Shaking that thought aside, the young father slumped his chin against the crown of his daughter's head, shutting his eyes tight as Lian briefly burrowed her face into his chest. He knew that he was going to hold her a little too long for her liking and, sure enough, he soon felt his little girl wriggling as she struggled to pry herself loose without trying to look mean about it. He took a few more seconds longer before letting her off the hook, moving his hands away from her back and onto the top of her shoulders so that he could still keep a hold on her.

"Now I can't guarantee that I can get you one of those nice rings that Uncle Hal has," Arsenal reminded Lian. "But are you sure that there isn't anything else I can get for you from Oa? I'm sure there'll be plenty of cool stuff there."

The event had become so commonplace for them that the two of them almost treated it as if it were a game. Both father and daughter were smart enough to know the reality of the situation at 

hand and Roy Harper had made sure to raise his child to learn to see what was really going on around her. He wanted to share his world with her as much as he could, not just to ease his own conscience but also to remind her that she had a choice. He knew that his little girl could do anything she wanted to and, for all his mistakes, Roy knew that he wanted to remind Lian of that as often as he could.

"You just kick butt, daddy," Lian said, her response sure and strong.

Roy once again found himself without the strength to speak, a shaky, watery grin forming upon his mildly worn features. _How_? he asked himself, _How did this little person become so strong? Did I have anything to do with it at all? Wasn't he the one that was supposed to set an example? _He found himself fighting the urge to embrace Lian once again as he quickly settled for squeezing her shoulders.

"You know that if there's any way to get back as quick as I can that I'm gonna find it. You know that right? I'll take on the whole god damn galaxy if it's between me and you, pumpkin."

"Daddddy. Quit bein' all sappy."

Arsenal couldn't help but laugh as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "All right. All right. I'll stop now."

Lian seemed pleased with the response, her small head dipping down from the strength momentarily put into her father's grip. She smiled as her daddy's fingers softly dug into her scalp.

Try as he might, however, Roy couldn't help but get serious once again. "Just remember what I've always told you, sweetie. No matter what happens, you'll never be alone anymore, okay? You've got all sorts of people that want you to be a part of their lives. Grandma Canary, Weird Uncle Hal, Horny Uncle Ollie, Funny Uncle Wally, Angry Broody Creepy Scary Uncle Batman. . ."

The sound of his daughter's laughter prepared Roy for his task, whatever it would turn out to be, just a little bit more. He had to admit that he didn't exactly see this in the cards when he gave The Bat a call and decided to ask for a new hand. On the other hand, he also knew that a small part of him, that chunk of his soul that told him to get back into the game after hearing every dissenting word and getting back from every trip to the emergency room or trauma center, was eagerly looking forward to the journey into the unknown.

"But you need to come back, Daddy."

And just like that, _just like that_, his caution returned in full force. He knew that he would have to let it go sometime. After all, a distraction like that is the last thing you need to be dealing with when you're on the battlefield. Once again resisting the urge to hug his little girl, he put all his strength into summoning all his cocky confidence and put it into his smile.

"Now who's the one getting sappy?"

* * *

_Wayne Manor – Second Floor_

"Wallace West, you are officially beginning to hackle my journalistic suspicions," Linda warned her husband. "I mean, we've finally gotten around to getting all our stuff out of storage and, just when we're going to move everything in, you suddenly have to go and save the galaxy."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," The Flash replied as he lazily stretched his neck. "It's just that the guys need me. . ."

"BUT WHAT ABOUT US, WALLY?!" Linda dramatically wailed. "WHAT ABOUT OUR CHILDREN?!"

"Please don't do this to me, baby. You know that you complete me. You. . . complete. . . me." The tone in Wally's voice said that he was getting into the game. It was a very familiar source of amusement for the young couple, the both of them well experienced with the tension that built up during the calm before the storm. As far as the both of them were concerned, it was a great deal more comforting than dealing with the alternative.

They continued to walk down the sun-dappled hallways, holding hands just as they did during their very first date when they chatted the night away after a meal at one of Central City's finest restaurants. Linda had been there many times before, even to the point when the then-hotshot reporter had gotten her own table at the place on call. Wally, on the other hand, had never even dreamed of chowing down at Fleming's and, until just after he managed to take a gander at the menu, had not really been sure about whether or not he could even afford the appetizers.

That confusion faded away soon after they took a seat and had a drink, when they had the time to discover that they were something a little more substantial than a flamboyant superhero celebrity and a pretty face on the television screen. Both had their share of stigmas attached to them and both of them were glad to see that there was somebody else around that knew what they were going through.

"I'd really like to know why Bruce thinks I'm the right guy for this job," Wally confessed, his eyes focused upon the carpeting beneath him. "All the running in the world isn't going to be any good if I can't keep my feet on the ground."

"I think I know the reason," Linda knowingly replied.

"Oh yeah? And what do you think it is?"

"Because he's The Batman, of course. And The Batman knows stuff."

Wally raised a modestly intrigued eyebrow in response. "I'm not going to be forced to have a chat with Bruce about keeping his mitts off my lady, am I? 'Cause I don't really feel that comfortable having that kind of discussion with somebody that scary."

"I think it's safe to say our marriage is safe. That being said, we may want to keep an eye on Stephanie in case she tries to reenact a bad Lifetime movie and kidnap the kids."

The couple's laughter was cut short as they arrived at their destination. They couldn't help but share a reserved look as they paused at the threshold.

"Take a breath, sweetie."

Wally did just that.

The two of them made their way into the children's' room, where Jai and Iris were playing with some of Bruce's old blocks that Alfred had fetched from the attic. The helpful contributor to the playtime was there as well, the British gentleman regarding them with a mildly anticipatory look while keeping a wary eye on the toddlers playing just footsteps away from his feet. It didn't take long at all for Jai to break from his playtime and bumble to his feet, his chubby arms akimbo as he made his way to Mommy and Daddy. Wally met him halfway and gave him a tight hug, relishing in the warmth around his neck as Jai wrapped himself around him. Several seconds later he felt another pair of hands scrambling around his shoulders and opened his eyes to see Iris next to her brother, the little red head stretching her neck upward as she pressed her lips to her father's cheek.

Linda let out a gasp, suddenly finding herself holding back tears. Neither she nor Wally had ever received a great deal of affection from their eldest child, a fact that had frequently become a point of conversation for them. The young mother hoped that life at Wayne Manor would give her daughter the opportunity to flower into the wonder that Linda knew she could be.

Thus far, she had to admit that she liked the results.

Wally had already launched into his explanation by the time Linda had managed to recover herself. "So I'm going to be gone for a little while so I can keep things safe for you little boogers. Your mom and Mister Alfred are going to take care of you though and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Although no one could have possibly seen him doing so, Alfred unconsciously raised his hands to his wrinkled chin as he fought to restrain a sad smile.

"All of you. . ." Wally continued. "The only thing I know how to do is run. And sometimes I run so fast that I forget where I am. I need you to stay where you are so I know how to get home. You'll do that, right?"

Linda couldn't help but stoop down so she could join in the family embrace, her head squeezing in between her children's' little bodies. The Gotham Times' newest reporter stretched herself so she could kiss her husband on the forehead, the tears in her eyes flowing strong.

"Of course we will. We'll always be here."

* * *

_The Batcave - Hangar_

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Arsenal hemmed over The Flash's question, having no need to ask for clarification. Feeling the need for a distraction, he pulled out a revolver held snug within one of the holsters strapped to his hips. He twirled the pistol about with his fingers, admiring the sound of the wind sweeping up from the revolutions.

"Yeah, it does. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you and say that it's never going to not hurt like hell but it'll get easier. Easier, if not better."

Wally nodded, realizing that the response was just something he was going to have to learn how to deal with. He matched his friend stride for stride as they made their way through the expansive storage center, the phenomenally large, hollowed out area well-stocked with a variety of aircraft and automobiles. However, their path soon led them to a craft that was a long ways away from the standard, though highly advanced methods of transportation.

It was an enormous craft at least 200 feet long, nearly just as high, and equipped with numerous turbines lined beneath its wings that would allow the ship to reach the velocity required to safely travel through deep space. It was truly a wondrous sight, so much so that the two figures standing in front of the craft were almost rendered invisible by the attention that had been drawn to it from the two former Teen Titans.

"Gentlemen," began Scandal Savage, "I give you The Big Whale, the personal space travel craft of the late Mao Tenryu.

"The Big Whale, huh?" asked Wally. "Ya sure we're not going to run into copyright issues with that one?"

"Robin has decided to rechristen the vessel," Batman all but growled. "The name was hardly my idea."

The two younger men wisely chose not to break out into laughter. The look in Bruce Wayne's eyes told them that the gesture was greatly appreciated.

"I want to apologize to the both of you for placing you into this situation."

Roy let out a snort before Wally could properly reply. "Ain't no need to worry about it, boss man. We signed on for this shit, didn't we?"

The detective allowed himself the glimmer of a smirk. "I promise you that your families will be kept safe. I'll see to that myself."

Arsenal somehow managed to beat his faster friend to the punch again, extending his hand in order to let Batman grasp it. "You just keep the seat of The Batmobile warm, _jefe_. I want to have the chance to drive that thing as a reward when I get back."

Bruce's odd, little half-smile suddenly crept up on the man's face. "I'll consider it."

Roy broke himself away from The Dark Knight, backing up so he once again stood at Wally's side. Meanwhile, The Fastest Man Alive locked eyes with the older man, the two of them exchanging unspoken words that neither of them were really equipped to say aloud.

"Wally," Bruce finally said.

"Bruce."

Roy let out an impressed whistle as he admired The Big Whale's technological wonders as he slid into the passenger seat, his back wonderfully molding into the fine leather cushioning. "Well, never let it be said that your old boss didn't know how to travel in style."

The Black Dog could only manage a bit of a smirk. "Never really took a likin' to this boat," he professed. "Touch too fancy for me personal tastes. Still, I imagine this thing is gonna get us there and then some."

"Looks to be a little large for just us to run it." Stephanie threw in as she strapped herself into the seat behind Lloyd.

"No worries there, Tweety," Lloyd said as he began to work with some of the switches in front of him. "Most of the big work can be done straight from 'ere and what we can't do from here can be covered from the engine room."

"Sounds good to me," Roy enthused as he held back the urge to throw his legs up onto the console in front of him. "So do we have any idea on how to get where we need to go? 'Cause something tells me it's not gonna be as simple as taking the second star on the left and goin' straight on 'til evening."

Now Lloyd couldn't help but smile as the ship's engines roared to life. As that was going on, the bay doors of the hangar began to slide aside, leaving the enormous craft with more than enough room to make its way into the skies above.

"Somethin' like that."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Ladies and gentlemen, you have just finished reading the work of The University of Memphis' newest six-time member of the College of Education's Dean's List! I've got to admit that I'm still not really sure how I pulled this nightmare of a semester off (nor how I managed not to miss a single update of this puppy as I did so) but I'm glad I did it. After all, this means that I'm one step closer to being an actual grown-up.

All joking aside, thanks to everyone who keeps on reading and reviewing. You guys already know that you're a big reason why this train keeps on a goin' so be sure to tell me what you think about the story. I love to hear from ya!

As for the world of comic books, we've currently got DC going all atwitter about Final Crisis and Marvel all moist about Secret Invasion. I've already told all of you about my feelings concerning the glut of "amazing, splendiferous, all-important comic _events_ so I won't start complaining about it again. I'll just say that Bendis' Secret Invasion looks interesting, much like all the other first issues of these crossover events that we comic book fans tend to poo-poo on by the time they're done. As for the rumors about a certain Dark Knight kicking the bucket, well, all's I'm saying is that, if anything else, you'll be able to read about an alive and sane Bruce Wayne right here. Speaking of which, how about a preview!

* * *

Issue #61 Preview

So The Sinestro Corps has quickly torn The Misfits in two without even knowing that they've done it. While Lloyd's team makes their way to Oa, those left behind are left to the task of investigating just what is on the mind of The Silver Coyote and his cohorts. There's plenty of questions to be answered: Just what are Bruce and J'onn on the lookout for? Who is Nightwing turning to for a bit of advice? And just what the hell is Deadshot doing with Lian and that gun?! Find out the answers to all these burning questions and then some in the next installment of The Misfits: How Not to Entertain Guests. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	61. How Not to Entertain Guests

Issue #61

How Not to Entertain Guests

_Oa Transmat Portal System- Mark Point #379A46_

Traveling at an estimated speed of 7.36 times the speed of light, The Big Whale's considerable bulk did nothing to interfere with the grace and speed with which it journeyed through the cosmic shortcut constructed by The Green Lantern Corps and the main power battery of Oa. The personal spacecraft of Mao Tenryu had made this particular journey two times before, the first performed in order to confirm the indoctrination of one Hal Jordan as the new Green Lantern of Space Sector 2814. The second expedition took place nearly a dozen years later, when The Guardians of The Universe were requesting a supply of contained energy matter in order to reconstruct the power battery that had nearly been destroyed by Jordan's quest to quench his desperate thirst for control over his own destiny. However, unlike those previous occasions, the person sitting in the pilot's seat was not the man who had financed the craft's construction.

Indeed, the person currently steering the enormous vessel was someone that Mao had not even known personally. Having abandoned the pursuit he had started within Gotham City, Lloyd Thomas had been more than happy to turn the controls over to Victor Fries. The calm scientist and Secret Six member took to the task with his normal, patient professionalism, quietly easing the ship through its journey through this particular pocket of space. The other team members had left the cockpit long ago, with Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie having gone to the far eastern corner of the ship in order to engage in a sparring session while Wally had retreated into the southern holds in order to grab a kip.

Roy Harper, on the other hand, was more interested in eating. And drinking beer if he could find any. The sharpshooter's quest lasted no more than ten minutes, after which he returned to the passenger seat with an I-model plastic bag filled with hydrated, meaty goodness in his left hand. In his right hand he held a small paper canister with a straw poked through the top. The sound of slurping was clearly heard even through the glass plating that covered Fries' ears while Arsenal employed the wonders of zero gravity to pull off a Spider-Man like front flip before bounding off the ceiling and pulling himself down into the nearby passenger seat.

"I love the smell of Tang in the morning," Harper announced as he worked out a kink that had built up in the muscles in his lower right leg.

"I fail to see the appeal myself," Fries flatly confessed, his eyes remaining locked upon the green and silver ether that made up the space they were travelling through.

Roy tilted his head to one side, the dull response piquing his interests. The man known as Mister Freeze did manage to notice this reaction, causing him to turn his attention towards his unwanted audience.

"Might my presence here offend your present disposition, Mister Harper?"

The former Teen Titan briefly contemplated the question while loudly chewing away at the beef steak that had previously been doused with ionized radiation designed to keep the dehydrated food unspoiled.

"Naw, I think I can live with it," Roy said just before indulging himself with a thick swallow. "I mean, I'm a little curious about all this, don't get me wrong. Still, I like to think I'm nonjudgmental like that."

Quickly tiring of the conversation, Fries was quick to return his attention to the task in front of him, his fingers lying tense just above the ship's primary controls. It was a fairly simple task, all things considered, and not at all worthy of the attention the accomplished scientist was giving it. On the other hand, the alternative activity was not in the least bit appealing.

Mister Harper, on the other hand, was not as quick to give up the chase. "You know," he calmly pointed out, "I just gave you a wonderful opportunity to go on a nice little monologue about just why you're here."

The older man let out a sigh. "I recognized that, Mister Harper. I just chose not to respond to the invitation."

The red-haired vigilante rolled his eyes before taking another noisy sip from his cup. The gesture had less to do with acquiring sustenance and a great deal more to do with antagonizing his target. As was often the case when he was at the trigger, his attack hit dead on.

"Perhaps the simplest way to explain it is that I grew tired of fighting the same battles."

Roy responded with a slow nod as he crinkled up his empty bag of food before releasing it and watching it float upward. "Well, I know I'm probably stretching my chances here but. . . I suppose you wouldn't mind explaining that a little more, would you?"

Fries lifted his left hand away from the controls, briefly examining the reinforced titanium glove that shielded his withered arm from sight. "Are you aware of why I originally chose to wear this armor, Mister Harper? It was my research into cryogenics that had robbed me of my body, my reputation as a scientist, and my beloved Nora. I constructed the prototype for this armor out of a need to acquire the resources I would require to find a cure for the cancer that had invaded the life of the only person I have ever truly come to love. Over time, what once was a life devoted to the pursuit of expanding humanity's capacity for life became nothing more than a cycle of death and violence."

Fries' audience remained respectfully quiet, his cup dully grasped within his hand.

"I am a researcher, Mister Harper. Though my obsession robbed me of a great deal of my awareness, I would be nothing more than a fool if I did not eventually come to recognize that my exploits failed to achieve what I had been looking to achieve. However, I must confess that it was Mister Thomas' words and Mister Wayne's kindnesses that allowed me to find another solution."

Harper quirked his head again, this time with a bit more bemusement in his eyes. "So it's true then? Lloyd Boy really dropped by your cell every week?"

Fries nodded slowly. "Save for some isolated exceptions. The Black Dog was also the one who managed to convince The Batman that I could be a benefit to his cause, thus allowing for my release and subsequent introduction to Miss Savage and her faction."

"So that's the story, huh? You're just an old man lookin' for redemption?" Roy let out a mildly derisory snort before taking another loud slurp of orange soda. "No offense, Chilly McFreeze, but I was hoping for something a little less trite."

The elderly scientist let out a grunt of his own as The Big Whale finally emerged from the other side of the portal designed to serve as a quick path between Oa and The Milky Way. They were now within what the Corps had dubbed a clear zone, a portion of empty space just 380,000 kilometers away from Oa's ionosphere. The vessel's gargantuan engines began to slow per The Black Dog's telepathic request, the noise from the turbines lessening until it was nothing but a barely perceptible _whir_.

"I do not seek redemption, Mister Harper," Fires finally countered. "My only goal now is to be of some good use."

A silent minute passed as the ship continued to drift forward. Twenty seconds after that, The Big Whale's sensors exploded with activity as small klaxons began to erupt over the bridge and the outlaying compartments. Another five seconds elapsed before the admittedly odd couple upon the bridge could see the source of the foreign energy signatures with their own eyes.

"Gang, we need you up and at 'em," Roy blasted into the intercom. "'Cause we've got company."

The Flash was on the bridge another second later, thoroughly startling Roy to the point where he had momentarily lost his grip on the cup. "Just what kind of company are we talking about here?" the speedster asked, his eyes already poring over the blackness of space.

"It's the fuckin' Manhunters is what it is."

The three gentlemen swerved around to see Stephanie making her way back onto the bridge as well with Kara and Lloyd just several steps behind. The familiar ring on The Green Lantern's finger was humming as Robin began to focus her thoughts upon the energy within her power source and began to cycle it throughout her body. Lloyd's saber was within the light but secure grip of The Black Dog's left hand while flecks of scarlet energy began to cycle through Kara's eyes.

Roy yanked himself away from the sight of his younger compatriots in order to catch another glimpse of a far more distressing sight. Dozens of androids were making their way through the empty space between Oa and The Big Whale, their smooth, expressionless metallic faces a clear sight thanks to the craft's advanced imaging equipment. Artificial muscle and sinew was safely concealed from head to toe by red and blue body armor that had been designed to punctuate their image as calm, efficient, keepers of law and order. Of course, judging from the energy readings being reported by the ship's sensors, it seemed rather obvious that their intentions were not the least bit peaceful.

"The Manhunters?" Arsenal asked. "As in the tinker toy cult that's had a mad-on for all things Green Lantern for the last couple millennia or so?"

"One and the same," Stephanie replied, her eyes firmly locked on the task ahead of her.

"I don't suppose that they're here to see what kind of sauce we want to go with our Szechwan pork, are they?" inquired The Flash.

"I rather doubt it," The Black Dog darkly replied.

* * *

"Even though I know I may be getting myself into a little bit of danger, at least according to how the old saying goes, I have to admit that I'm a little curious about this little dilemma of yours."

Dick Grayson couldn't help but roll his eyes as his choice of council calmly (and literally) looked down upon him, a blatantly mischievous smile illuminating their admittedly appealing countenance. He knew that something like this was to be expected. Didn't have to like it, but he most certainly presumed that it would happen. "I'm really hoping I don't have to explain this one again," he said patiently, "because I'm running out of creative ways to do it."

"All right, all right," Richard's companion finally relented. "So you're telling me you came here looking for a middle line, which isn't exactly the grandest title I've ever managed to receive but I've certainly heard worse things said about me."

"So I've been told. . . and helped contribute to," Dick countered. "The bottom line was that I was looking for somebody who doesn't know me as well as most of the people I hang around with, somebody who knows me just enough to give me a solid opinion, and somebody who has enough of a head on their shoulders that I don't have to go looking for somebody else."

"Such a cleverly constructed explanation," the raven-haired confidante admitted. "Very well, my studly little lad. You may continue."

Bruce Wayne's adopted son drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, pondering the words he was planning to say despite the fact that he had been planning them out even before he had decided to travel across much of downtown Gotham. "I've lived here for damn near 20 years now, off and on, so you'd think I'd have a good idea of just what the hell I'm supposed to be doing here. Still, even with everything that's going on, I don't have a god damned clue. And if that's not craptastic enough," he added as he thumped the back of his hand against the increasingly maligned armrest, "I don't even have a clue as to where I should be instead of here!"

The mildly offended listener stretched their left index finger in order to cut the vigilante's ramblings short. "First things first, pixie shorts, there's no need to try and put any bass in your voice. So the question becomes, if you didn't think that Gotham was your place, then why did you come back here to begin with?"

"Honestly?" asked Dick.

"That tends to be an important part of the whole confiding process."

Dick momentarily thought about firing back a snappy retort but quickly thought the better of it. "At first I thought it was because that Bruce needed my support. I mean, everyone had pretty much left him in the lurch and by the time I show up he's ready to pull a Buford Pusser and turned Wayne Manor into a damn boarding house for somewhat charming nutcases. Of course, now it's been almost two years since then and it's become pretty damn obvious that I failed with The Outsiders, the Titans don't need me, and I'd just be on the outside looking in any where else I choose to go."

"Please don't compare Bruce to Joe Don Baker. The Batman is not some misanthropic hick."

Dick let out a weary sigh. "Thank you so very much for listening to me."

"I'll start listening when you start telling me something that you don't already know," Dick's audience said rather patiently. "Honestly, Dickie, you're insulting my intelligence here."

Nightwing brought his thumb and index finger and rubbed them against the bridge of his nose. "Then how about a metaphor?" he began again. "My mother always told me, when I first climbed onto the tightrope, that if you stay on the platform too long then you'll forget how to jump off. So the question becomes. . ."

"Where you think you should jump?" Selina Kyle finished with a purr, her gorgeous right leg sensuously moving to settle upon her left. "Well, I have to admit it's an interesting little allegory. Maybe you should give me a second to think about it."

* * *

"_I luuuuuuuuuve androids_," Stephanie declared to her comrades with the aid of Lloyd's telepathic link. _"Or whatever ya want to call 'em. Androids, cyborgs, Tinker Toys, Terminators. Love 'em. Love 'em. Love 'em. Love 'em. Loooooooove them."_

"_Duly noted, Tweety_." Lloyd swung his katana back to finish up his customary defensive stance, the blade having recently severed the neck servos of one android and had cut another cleanly in half along the way. _"Personally, I just don't see the appeal in them myself."_

"_Pleeeease don't give me that 'love towards the fight, artistry and creativity bullllllllshit," _Stephanie somehow managed to telepathically groan as she crafted an eldritch shield that easily deflected the photon blasts erupting from the arm cannons of many of her numerous foes. _"You know, you really need to come up with some new battlefield bitching because that garbage is getting stale."_

Lloyd fired a trio of blasts from his right palm, each of them punching a hole through the chest plate of a Manhunter of his choosing. _"Oh, and I suppose you consider your filching of old Paul Merton material is right and original? Perhaps you should be real novel and entertain us with some of Spider-Man's greatest hits fer a change."_

Kara tried her best to make some sense out of the situation while her two best friends squabbled and her fists and feet trashed one android after the other. The force of a cannon blast punched into her back, the heat of the attack providing a rather intriguing contrast to the chill of deep space. She was pretty certain that wasn't exactly what her attacker was hoping to accomplish with its efforts but the half-Kryptonian appreciated it all the same.

"_I just don't understand this," _she confessed.

"_What's there not to understand?" _Stephanie asked as she plunged her energy claws into the chest of one of her foes, thus providing her with a temporary shield that she quickly and gleefully put to its newfound purpose. _"A bunch of wind-up toys are trying to kill us and we're kicking in their shiny, metallic posteriors in response."_

"_Posteriors?" _Lloyd asked belligerently. _"Who you think you are with that? Alistair soddin' Cook?"_

Stephanie admitted her awkward wordplay with a muted snort and an angry, Power ring-assisted toss of her "shield" that quickly scattered her enemies. _"Okay. Admittedly, not my best. Still, it's better than your routine, Sun-Tzu Shithead."_

"_I'm not talking about the fight_," Kara patiently explained as she used her heat vision to counter and then overwhelm another Manhunter-fired blast. _"I'm talking about the chatter. How do you guys do it?"_

"_Wot? This?" _Lloyd asked as he turned himself into a saber-armed whirlwind that cut into the outer worldly, metal frames of several more former officers of The Guardians' intergalactic police force. _"Not that hard, this is. It's all a matter of just getting used to doing it."_

"_Yeah! YOWCH!" _Stephanie first exclaimed then yelped as a right hook from another foe momentarily made its way through her protective barrier and grazed against her abdomen. She was quick to move left, snatching the sturdy gauntlet that had caused her injury before using her claws to remove the offending weapon from its owner. _"So. . . just give it a shot!"_

"_Oh! Um. . . okay." _Kara found herself feeling somewhat nervous now that the figurative spotlight had suddenly been shined upon her. However, it didn't take long at all (just enough for her to trash two more Manhunters, in fact) for her to consider the opportunity as just another part of her battlefield training.

"_Uh. . . shouldn't these guys be telling Will Robinson that he's in danger?"_

A significant pause erupted over the otherwise chaotic battlefield as the three junior members of Batman's deep space squad unconsciously processed what had just occurred.

"_That's. . ." _Lloyd hemmed as he reflected one shot of arm cannon fire with his katana at an angle that allowed it to punch the shooter right into its faceplate, "_not. . . bad."_

"_That blew."_

"_STEPH!" _The Black Dog, well, barked as he decapitated another one of his many adversaries.

"_Well, it did."__The Big Whale – Second sub-basement_

* * *

"This is insane! Just what in the hell am I supposed to be doing right now?" Wally asked as he matched his old friend step for step.

"Don't know," Arsenal replied, his current pace leaving him moderately short of breath. "And, since Lloyd told me about the plasma turrets, don't care either." Roy actually let loose with a tiny hop as the sliding door in front of him revealed the control panel of the enormous ship's chief source of offensive firepower. "Right now, I'm just percolating with the anticipation that can only come from the chance to shoot something with something that I haven't ever shot before!"

Despite his stress at hand, The Flash still couldn't help but roll his eyes. While he was doing that, however, Roy brought his newfound instruments of destruction to life by following the activation instructions that The Black Dog had plugged into his mind a mere moments before. The portside 

turbines let loose with a mighty rumble as the ship's computer system rerouted a portion of its power into its weapon systems, thus powering up the guns in a matter of seconds. After needing another short handful of moments to figure out the targeting systems, Oliver Queen's first charge quickly went to work, unleashing bolts of energy that quickly added more explosions and bits of metal onto the already cluttered battlefield.

"Well, despite all this," said Wally as he didn't even bother to hide his sarcasm, "it's nice to know that you've found the time to unlock your inner Han Solo."

"Check this shit out!" Roy said, his thoughts already quickly becoming consumed with that all-important space between the gun and his target. "Bet I can shoot everybody that's making the Parcel run in less than 10 parsecs!"

Valuing his sanity, The Flash wisely chose not to stick around to see if his longtime friend could make due on his bizarre, self-created wager and made his way back to the bridge. Completing the journey in just a shade under a second, phasing his way through any offending walls in his path as he did so, his sudden arrival didn't even appear to startle the ship's pilot. Of course, a potential reason behind the lack of surprise may have had something to do with Fries being occupied with making certain the shields of the enormous spacecraft were able to weather the attacks from the handful of Manhunters that managed to escape his teammates' clutches. Thankfully, the lack of tremors that resulted when a handful of blasts peppered the area surrounding the exterior of the bridge seemed to reveal that the stoic scientist seemed to be handling his endeavor quite nicely.

"How are things coming along?"

Fries didn't even bother to turn around. "The vessel's energy armor appears to be holding up with little problems. However, the ship's power supply is certainly finite, thus I cannot guarantee the same should we be forced to face a prolonged assault on the way to Oa."

"Yeah, too bad that there looks to be a lot of bad guys on the way from here to there," Wally admitted as he watched his three space-faring comrades lay waste to one opponent after the other. "Am I the only one to notice that I am absolutely useless right now?"

"I'm afraid. . ." Fries let out a grunt as a dense collection of energy bursts crashed into the shielding covering the western turbines and caused the ship to momentarily shudder. "I'm afraid there isn't a great deal that I can do about that particular predicament."

Another distraction suddenly caught Mister Freeze's attention. However, this particular disturbance didn't originate from the chaos going on outside the ship but rather from within the bridge itself. The eccentric crime fighter couldn't help but momentarily turn his attention towards it and the golden lightning that flashed and sparkled in front of it. Widening his crimson-colored eyes in surprise, he watched as The Fastest Man Alive began to draw in the kinetic energy around him, accessing a power supply that had the potential to be all but limitless when put into the right hands.

"Sorry to hear about that," Wally admitted (although there was just a hint of a playful glimmer within his sparkling yellow pupils). "Guess that means it's up to me to see what I can do."

The bizarre electrical energy continued to twist and writhe around The Flash, the sight of the sparks causing Fries to momentarily fret over whether or not the younger man's exhibition could short out the connections to the ship's controls. His fears were only mildly put at ease as the current began to intensify, tighten, and wind around the red-haired speedster, the young father's body almost becoming translucent within the high lighting above him. While Fries was busy goggling, Wally focused his attention upon the surrounding Manhunters, each of which were travelling through the blackness of space through the employment of condensed engines designed to manufacture and properly transfer kinetic energy.

And that meant, if he could just concentrate hard enough, that he had the potential of having some new toys to play with.

* * *

"_Holy flippin' cheeseburgers!" _Stephanie proclaimed as she paused for the briefest of moments to observe the goings on. _"Hey, Wall-eye! Did you just put in a cheat code or something?"_

The Flash couldn't help but snort at the Green Lantern's bizarre exclamations. By now the smile on his face had become almost as bright as the energy flowing through his usually green eyes, a response to a job well done.

"Barry called it speed stealing," he explained to his curious audience. "I'm basically manipulating the surrounding kinetic energy in order to steal speed from the Manhunters and bring it into myself. Of course, I've never really tried to do this little trick on this kind of a scale but. . ."

"_But nothing, speedster," _Lloyd interrupted as he took advantage of the reduced speed of his opponents to eliminate The Manhunters around him with even greater frequency than before. _"Quite the trick, this is."_

"_It is pretty neat," _Kara confessed. _"Is there any chance you can help me with making witty banter while you're at it? I'm tryin' but I just don't think I know how to handle myself during a fight."_

Ducking under a right hook from one of the surrounding androids, the last daughter of Krypton hastily countered with an inverted hook kick aimed just so that it caved in the cyborg's chest plate almost immediately upon impact. Keeping the muscles in her right leg stretched and taut, she shifted her ankle until her foot formed into a hook that quickly cut into the neck servos of the Manhunter behind her. Taking the now-inert metallic body in her steady clutches, she briefly spun in a circle that allowed her to use her newfound bludgeon to knock her surrounding opponents for a momentarily loop. Quick to take advantage of the distraction, she used a firm, thin stream of arctic breath to propel the body into a trio of its former compatriots before using a quick blast of heat vision that melted the disoriented foes in one fell swoop.

"_Seem like quite the fetching poet to me, luv."_

Kara couldn't help but turn and see the look on The Black Dog's face. His normally wide, hazel eyes were slightly narrowed and there was a slight, almost shy smile on his thin lips now that she had turned to look at him. Stephanie had referred to this particular look as Lloyd's "Slightly Charming, Mostly Chickenshit Scared" stare but Kara found that she couldn't hold in her blush.

"_HEY! If you're done makin' moony eyes then maybe you should look westward 'cause we got company!!"_

Kara and Lloyd both quickly tore away from one another, responding to Stephanie's telepathic screech. They were wise to do so, seeing as how two dozen members of The Sinestro Corps were making their way towards them, each of them eager to join in the hunt.

* * *

_Gotham City – East End_

"Well, now that you've given me this wonderful little ball of string to play with," Catwoman said with a slow, almost seductive smile, "let's go about pawing it."

"Pull away," Nightwing answered, his arms stretching wide. "And, since I know where you've been, I mean that strictly within the metaphorical sense."

"_Mrrow_. All righty then, next question. If this wasn't what you expected your life to be then just what the hell were you looking for?"

Dick's first response was a reluctant sigh punctuated by a lowering of his shoulders. "And you know what might be the worst thing about all this garbage? The fact that I don't even know the answer to that damn question!"

Selina let out a moan of her own as she shook her head. "Very well," she said, recovering quickly, "then let me throw some possibilities out there. How about just going ahead and following in your father's footsteps? After all, you know that's what Bruce had wanted for you all these years."

"Been there, done that, got the psychological abuse," Nightwing all but grumbled.

"Then how about joining another squad? Maybe somebody that's looking to use those leadership skills that you seem to value so highly?"

Dick extended his right hand before balling it into a fist. "The Titans were strike one," he countered, ticking off one finger as he did so. "The Outsiders were strike two. I'm not really up for the consequences that are going to come when I chase another one that's high and outside."

"Men and their sports metaphors," Selina griped. "Well, hell, then how about taking another shot under the big top?"

"I wouldn't know where to get a flying elephant," Dick quickly replied, a half-smirk on his face that could have been taken straight out of his foster father's emotional playbook.

The expression had a similar effect on Catwoman as it did when it came from Bruce. Rolling her eyes, she subtly gnashed her teeth in frustration as she momentarily struggled to figure out where to go from here. "Well, as long as you're keeping yourself busy shooting down my ideas, maybe you can motivate your brain cells to come up with some of your own." _And then I can make fun of them_, she thought ruefully.

"Well, I know the bottom line is that I'm afraid to fail again," Dick declared, the statement causing Selina's next suggestion to die on her lips. "So, instead of looking for another avenue, I'm just unconsciously choosing not to try so I can avoid the opportunity _to _fail."

Selina nodded in approval. "Better to stand still than risk falling upon your face. That's quite the profound epiphany there, Boy Blunder."

"Thank kyew. Oh, and since I've got a chance at a gold star here, then I'll go another step further. The bottom line is that I've been following somebody else's intentions almost since the day I was born. My parents wanted me to be an acrobat, Bruce wanted me to be a detective, and Barbara and K'ory wanted me to be a leader. Once again, that's not to say that the intentions aren't good or that they're not worth trying to fulfill but the bottom line is that I have to admit that they're not really mine."

Selina, despite her everlasting temptation to cause consternation within the thoughts of brooding vigilantes, gave an understanding, almost sympathetic look to her young charge. "You know what? I think I've got a solution for you."

"And that is?" Nightwing asked, his curiosity obviously ignited.

"We need to go on a patrol," Selina replied, rising to her feet and stretching her long, muscular legs as she rose to full height.

"What?" Nightwing's question was laced with a mixture of shock and annoyance. "That's your brilliant solution?! Go outside and beat something up?"

"Well, it's not like you've come up with anything better," Selina countered. "And besides, for emotionally damaged action junkies like us, fighting crime is the third best way to relieve unwanted tension."

"The third best way?" Dick queried despite already dreading the answer to come.

"Well, stealing is number two," Catwoman rejoined as she fetched her braided leather bullwhip from its usual resting place on the western wall of her penthouse apartment. "Of course, we could always make a run by Cartier's for old time's sakes? You can bring the pixie shorts."

Nightwing couldn't help but whimsically shake his head as he rose to his feet as well. "Sorry. I only wear those on special occasions. Oh, and thank you so very, very much for not mentioning Method No. 1."

Selina calmly shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't want to scar you. After all, you came to me in your time of need."

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

After spending the last several hours looking for a way to occupy his time, Floyd Lawton was finally beginning to believe that he had found somebody who could connect with in this big-ass house. Hell, he even had the time to get in a little target practice with 'em. Granted, he wasn't the one doing the practicing but still. . .

"Now the first thing you wanna do is get comfy with how ya holding your gun." Deadshot calmly explained while his pupil faithfully listened in. "You gotta find a middle between holdin' it straight so you can deal with the recoil and makin' sure you're not putting too much pressure on your grip. Course, that'll be easier to do when you grow up a bit. . . HEY, don't stick out your tongue like that!"

"Sorry," Lian Harper apologized; her tone indicating that she was more focused upon the gun than on her request for forgiveness.

"It's all right," Lawton quickly replied as he blew out a puff of cigar smoke into the rarefied air of the most expensive individual domicile within the city of Gotham. "It's just that's a damn good way to bite your tongue off and you sure as shit don't wanna do that."

"My daddy says that he does it so he can relax."

Deadshot let out a disdainful grunt as he silently wondered just what the hell a supposed crack shot like Arsenal was teaching to his kid. "Yeah, well your poppa can pull that off 'cause he knows how it feels to shoot a gun and get shot at back. You, on the other hand, ain't got a damn clue about that so you just keep that thing in your gullet where it belongs."

The marksman gave his newfound apprentice the time she needed to put his instruction into practice. Momentarily occupying himself by stubbing out his cigarette upon the ashtray that was precariously balanced upon the room's lush, and quite expensive, Oriental carpeting, the grizzled teacher soon started up again. "All right. Now see that plate there? The wide one with the goofy floral paint on it? Second one on the right in the third row? Now try and take your aim and hit that bad boy. . ."

"WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU DOING!!"

BLAM!!

A series of loud noises came in quick succession, each of them a part of a simple, though chaotic, procession. Loud Noise Number One caused Lian to swerve around towards the source of it, her attention momentarily taken away from the fact that one of her small fingers had been wrapped around the trigger of a loaded gun. This, as one can imagine, led to Loud Noise Number Two, an occurrence that caused all the occupants in the rarely-used dining room to jump in surprise. This was quickly followed up by Loud Noise Numbers Three and Four, which just happened to be a high-pitched yelp quickly followed by the sound of a recently fired bullet embedding itself into the wall behind the projectile's former recipient.

Lian's eyes and mouth were wide as saucers while Scandal calmly investigated the bullet wound in her abdomen, the bullet having punched through a small portion of her right lung. The daughter of 

Vandal Savage looked mildly perturbed, looking quite like a beleaguered mother recognizing that she had to deal with her wayward child once again.

"Deadshot, seeing as that we're guests here, could you at least pretend that you have the slightest ounce of sense?" Scandal asked flatly, the competent leader quick to deal with the problem at hand.

"Come on, boss. It's not like anybody's getting hurt here." Deadshot caught the wide-eyed expression on Lian's face. "Well, at least until you showed up anyway."

Scandal felt her temples throbbing, her good humor evaporating at a near record pace. "Floyd. I've recently become interested in seeing if I can ram one of your guns down somebody's throat. Would you like to be a part of this little experiment?"

Deadshot took about a third of a second to think it over.

"Not really."

"Then you should leave now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lawton rose to his feet, making sure to take the gun from Lian's hand with one hand while scooping up his half-filled ashtray with the other. Scandal did her best to avoid sparing even so much of a glance at her unruly subordinate left the room and left her alone with the person she had actually been looking for.

"Bye, Mister Deadshot!!"

Slowly but surely, Scandal began to count down from 10, breathing in and out just as Mao had taught her to do almost three decades ago. By the time she had finished doing that, she had managed to have enough time to get a good, solid look at her descendant. The family tree had said that she was her great-great-great grand niece but, as one could imagine, the leader of The Secret Six didn't take a great deal of stock into any representation of the Savage family tree. That way only led to madness.

Kay, of course, had been the first to learn of her true intentions behind following Alexander Luthor's "instructions" to form the ragtag band of mercenaries that became known as The Secret Six. Roy and Thomas were the next to learn the truth, the latter being told as a gesture of trust while the reveal to the former becoming a necessity once Cheshire had revealed just how little she cared for her own daughter.

The whole ordeal had been quite the experience. The Society's assault upon her newfound home had resulted in the death of Parademon and had nearly robbed her of Floyd, Merkel, Thomas. . . even her beloved Kay. She occasionally wondered if it was all worth it, all that pain and death just to ensure the safety of one girl. Truth be told, she still didn't know the answer to that particular question.

That being said, the sight of Lian's cautious smile did a great deal to ease her conscience.

"You know, that's usually not how you treat your babysitter," Scandal greeted with a playful grin.

"You're not my babysitter," Lian replied, her normally rebellious behavior momentarily blunted by guilt.

"Well, I am your standing guardian," Scandal fired back, her voice calm but still slightly frayed. Seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere with her current approach, she decided to try another track. "A guardian with really shiny wrist-mounted blades."

The adventurous look in Lian's eyes clearly told Mao's former student that she had hit the right note.

* * *

Kara let out a hiss as a yellow beam of energy singed her left thigh, the result of being a second too slow in dodging a blast from a Sinestro Corps trooper who sported mottled, purple-and-black skin. The dull-golden aura wrapped around the creature's body failed to make him more aesthetically pleasing in Kara's eyes but it most likely had saved his life when her fist rammed into its face, the sound of the alien's nose and jaw breaking rendered mute by the emptiness of space. With one of her opponents dealt with, she turned her attention to the Manhunters and Yellow Lanterns who were not being occupied by Lloyd, Stephanie, or the ship's defenses. Despite the reduced numbers, she was beginning to think that the collection of rogues before her was something she wasn't quite capable of dealing with.

"_How are the shields holding up?"_

"_The stress being put upon The Big Whale's energy reserves is beginning to become a problem," _Mister Freeze replied. _"Continued assaults from the Sinestro Corps' weaponry may very well result in an overload that would leave us defenseless."_

"_And leave me without anything to shoot these fuckers with!" _Roy added as he continued to set his sights upon the blurs of yellow zooming in and out of his sights. "_Damn, they're fast! Any chance you can slow 'em down, Track Star?"_

"_It's taking some time to get through their defenses," _Wally quickly replied through the telepathic link, his rising anxiety clearly beginning to reveal itself.

"_Focus upon the ones firing on the bridge, Flash," _Lloyd ordered, his saber sinking through the rib cage of the Sinestro Corps member closest to him. _"The three of us can take care of ourselves."_

"_Is there any chance we can get in touch with the Green Lantern Corps_?" asked Kara as she swerved to avoid blast of eldritch energy. _"We could really use some help right AGH!"_

Kara's silent scream was ripped from her lips as another shot carried her away from the battlefield, the heat of the projectile burning into her back and singing her flesh. However, during that brief flicker between the initial jolt of pain and the lingering throb that followed it, she recognized something about the force that she had been assaulted with. Namely, there wasn't a hint of magic in it.

Looking up, she soon discovered why.

The man looking back at her was a sickening amalgamation of Apokoliptian metal, Kryptonian flesh, and a heart made black by the freshest horrors that the planet Earth had to offer. The remaining Manhunters and fellow members of The Sinestro Corps had left the both of them alone, a clear indication that her foe was either greatly respected or phenomenally feared.

Judging from what Kara had heard about Hank Henshaw, she strongly suspected the latter.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

As The Misfits climbs over the 400,000 word mark, I would like to commemorate my long-windedness (is that a word?) and my talent of dragging on and on about things that nobody wants to read. I would like to thank my past English teachers for foolishly never setting a page limit for any of my writing projects as well as my reviewers, most of whom are intelligent enough to pace themselves when they read these things. Remember kids! One passage at a time and don't sit too close to your computer screen!

As always, thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. With any luck, my bringing back Selina will prompt Shatterfirst to review and I'm always ready to hear from the rest of you as well. On the 

comics front, I have to say I'm pleased as punch that the canon Stephanie is back in business. That being said, I'm still not really throwing away the possibility that she's a Skrull (DAMN YOU, BENDIS!! DAMN YOOOOOOOUUUUUUU!"). You know, with Dini and Morrison on Batman, Tomasi on Nightwing, and Dixon on Robin and Batman and The Outsiders, it's quite a good time to be a Batman fan. That being said, let's see if I can tempt your taste buds with an issue preview!

* * *

Issue #62 Preview

Well, The Misfits are busy little beavers aren't they? Kara's about to take on The Cyborg, Lloyd and the gang have got their hands full with The Sinestro Corps, and Batman and Noah are keeping themselves busy as well. Oh, and Nightwing is hanging out with Catwoman. Surely this won't lead into anything risky or risqué, n'est ce pas? Tune back in 14 days time to witness all the fun and games in the next installment of The Misfits: Fruits of Our Labors. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	62. Fruits of Our Labors

Issue #62

Fruits of Our Labors

_Gotham City _

While Dick Grayson and Selina Kyle busied themselves by going through the motions, Noah Kuttler occupied his time by giving some hard thought to just how in the world he was supposed to clean up the mess his comrades had unceremoniously dumped upon him. After all, it wasn't as if he wasn't already quite saddled with things to do, what with his recent discoveries within what had been a greatly frustrating area of research. However, since young Richard Grayson had suddenly decided that he needed to work through what The Calculator could only ruefully determine to be some kind of positively ridiculous crisis of faith, it was now up to him to do what he could to nip this potential crisis within the metaphorical bud. Thus, as he asked himself whether or not he should take an extra dose of Sertraline before leaping into the breach, Noah fired up his end of the comm. link once again as he prepared to address the object of his current frustrations.

He was greeted with the combined sounds of machine gun fire and the distinct crack of a bullwhip resounding through the speakers of the central computer. Needless to say, neither of these reverberations did anything to ease the already frayed nerves of the master hacker as he used Cartier's security cameras in order to properly analyze the battlefield. Nightwing had just succeeded in disarming another of Two-Face's former lieutenants while the striking former cat burglar had used her intriguing weapon of choice to send another gunman awkwardly twirling and tumbling toward the floor.

"I cannot imagine that these are the kinds of activity that The Batman would like for you to be a part of at this critical juncture," Noah stiffly informed Nightwing once the former acrobat had earned himself some room to breathe. "And honestly," he added, "if what you require is counseling than I happen to know a number of highly capable psychotherapists who would be willing to. . ."

"You've got your psychoanalysis, C.C., and I've got mine!" Nightwing's bellowing managed to not only sound out over the blare of the gunfire but also succeeded in attracting Catwoman's attention as she finished relieving another unsavory fellow of his recently fired M16. "And if you don't mind, I wish you would stop getting in the way of a potential breakthrough."

"You cannot honestly tell me," Noah scoffed as Dick launched himself into a perfect somersault that ended with a leaping thrust kick that caught his target squarely upon the chin, "that you believe this to be some necessary step upon your so-called search for fulfillment. In fact, as far as I am concerned, your choice of resorting to physical exertion in compensation of honestly observing your own dilemmas is nothing short of an elaborate, though classic, form of denial. In fact, I recently had the pleasure of perusing an article within the Journal of Applied Psychology concerning adrenaline and its connections with responsivity to challenge. . ."

"DO YOU REALLY THINK I'M LISTENING TO ALL THOSE BIG ASS WORDS OF YOURS?!" Nightwing all but howled as he bent his shoulders in order to narrowly avoid a spray of machine gun fire that sailed several inches over the crest of his hairline. The vigilante in the domino mask focused his frustrations by slamming his knee into the gut of his newest attacker before employing a nerve pinch that sent the man falling limply to the ground.

"Well, there is hardly any need for such an incensed response," Noah tartly countered. "Though I will admit that my knowledge of your past successes and failures is purely secondhand, I do possess a great deal of firsthand experience when it comes to the impasse of finding direction. After all, had it not been for my choice to place myself within your father's services and operate as Batman's mole within the Society, I would most likely still be caught within my own self-created, unfulfilling psychological web."

"Is that right?" Nightwing sarcastically fired back as he watched Selina use a complicated twisting lash of her whip to almost effortlessly disarm another gunman that had foolishly attempted to draw a bead on her from just inside her attack range. Never one to be satisfied with being outdone by one of his fellow crime fighters (least of all the woman who had long been such a complicated piece of his father's social puzzle), Dick briefly stretched his powerful leg muscles before breaking into a dash that soon brought him within leaping distance of Catwoman's recently beleaguered foe. Bending his body in order to make a graceful, almost effortless forward leap, he instinctively stretched his foot at just the right angle in order to get as much force as he could behind the kick he delivered to the side of the man's head. The blow sent the poor bastard down in a heap and left him and Selina without any more unfortunate criminals to play target practice with.

"Yes, and perhaps you will be able to work up the energy to listen to my advice, now that you no longer have anyone to mercilessly batter," Noah answered, his stiflingly rigid candor a clear indication that the man would not be denied. "Your problem, Sir Nightwing, is that you now recognize that you are unfulfilled with your current standing. However, despite the fact that you have successfully established your particular conundrum, you find that you must now build up your own wellspring of nerve in order to make a decision that could either lead to success or failure. It is a common dilemma for people at your age and stage of development, when the need and/or desire to establish a self-sufficient existence. . ."

Dick made sure to keep his eye rolling away from the sight of the security cameras as he resisted the urge to drown in the tidal wave of ten-dollar words that the irritating, though entirely correct, computer expert was decanting down upon him. Deciding that he suddenly needed to be entertained, he motioned towards his playfully amused comrade with his left hand, his right hand already occupied with a display of pantomime designed to silently inform Selina of just who was at the other end of the conversation. As the fingers on his right hand typed upon an imaginary keyboard, the vigilante watched as an eager smile crawled upon the woman's lips. Offering the communicator to his longtime nemesis, he set himself into a lazy stretch as he moved to investigate the fallen criminals around him.

"I thought I told you that I don't like it when someone starts sniffing around my territory," Selina warned The Calculator with a sultry growl. "Honestly, Mister Kuttler, you horribly repressed wonk, isn't it enough that you earn your paycheck through a job that you poached from the physically handicapped?"

Nightwing didn't even bother holding in his laughter. In fact, he could almost see Noah stiffening up.

"I believe it is fairly safe to say that this has nothing to do with you, Miss Kyle," Noah tartly replied. "In fact, given your illustrious history with other male vigilantes, perhaps I should remind you of the moral improprieties that tend to result when older women attempt to take advantage of psychologically conflicted young men in order to fulfill their amorous desires."

"I'll ask that you please not include me in your sick, sexual fantasies, Kuttler," countered Catwoman, her unencumbered left hand playfully bent into a claw. "In fact, I'll have you know that my intentions here are entirely altruistic."

"Oh? Then perhaps you are simply sated for the time being? Well, I had heard that the wild cat exhibit at the Robinson Park Zoo had recently taken in some generous donations. Of course, I had no idea that they were actually payments for services rendered. . ."

Selina couldn't help but let out the slightest of hisses at the decidedly catty remark. "Again with the uncomfortable sharing of your sexual fantasies, Noah? Then again, maybe you're still upset over that little incident with the dairy queen? I thought I told you that my little run-in with your little yogurt heiress was just an accident."

Noah's growl was significantly louder. "You cannot honestly tell me that you just happened to decide to dine at my favorite restaurant in Gotham on the same night that I just happened to frequent it with Miss Nash. You deliberately interfered with my romantic intentions, you lecherous little slattern!"

"Now, now, my cuddly, little cyber terrorist, there's no need for that. I'm sure that my little run in with Margorie did anything to keep you from your nightly ritual of lonely decrepitude and a cup of Earl Grey tea."

"Is that right?" Noah asked sourly, his tone quite similar to the timbre that Nightwing had shared with him just a few minutes before. "And just why do you appear to be so interested in protecting Miss Nash's virtues? Was she one of your personal confidantes? Perhaps a fellow purveyor of Petco's finest line of catnips?"

Dick Grayson ruefully shook his head as he finally finished his task of restraining the last of Two Face's former employees. His activities went absolutely unnoticed by the two squabbling adults and, as funny as the whole display was, he couldn't help but notice something else.

He didn't have to be there in order for it to happen. He was, once again, on the outside looking in.

* * *

_Oa Space Safe Zone – 367,000 kilometers from the surface of Oa_

Kara had to admit that she hadn't paid a great deal of attention to the parts of Bruce's database that concerned her cousin's gallery of rogues. In fact, the majority of the time she had spent learning about that particular collection of miscreants and murderers had been spent with Lloyd and Noah while participating within a rather long but admittedly entertaining homily concerning the domino theory and its connections to the origins of many so-called super villains.

Take Henry Henshaw, the man more commonly known as the Cyborg Superman, for instance. His path toward becoming a truly terrifying part of Earth's recent history had began by something that hadn't been his fault in the slightest. Indeed, it was the ill-fated launch of Lexcorp's Excalibur space shuttle and the craft's improper shielding and navigation systems that would steer him into a wave of cosmic radiation that left two of his crewmates at death's door. However, it had been the survivors of the accident, Henry and his wife, that would truly suffer from what fate had in store for them. In fact, the radiation would lead to the protracted disintegration of Henry's bone and muscle, a plight that would have killed him had his molecules not been bonded with the metal of the space shuttle that should have been his tomb.

The grueling, almost impossibly painful experience was almost too much for Henry to endure. Even more unfortunately, his wife had not been as fortunate and the sight of the love of his life hurtling herself out of his hospital window soundly shattered what little remained of his humanity. From that day on Henry Henshaw became a creature defined by loss, a distinction that he blamed entirely upon the one man who had truly done everything he could to try and save him.

The next part of Henshaw's tragic existence, a period of time that stretched to the present, consisted of little more than an ill-aimed quest for revenge. This endeavor, something that was originally spawned from the actions of people he had never ever known, had resulted in tragedy for so many others. Indeed, his swath of destruction had claimed the lives of millions of innocent people throughout the cosmos and had ultimately led him to The Manhunters; fellow cybernetic organisms whose intentions had been twisted and corrupted by the unfair expectations of others. It led him to become the leader of The Manhunters, it lead him to being recruited by Sinestro, and it led him, at this moment, to Kara Zor-el.

Kara kept a wary eye on the yellow force bubble that Henshaw was creating around them. Her hours of training with Stephanie had taught her how to fight her way out of such a trap. The only question was, of course, if this was actually a trap.

"So you are the other last child of Krypton," Henshaw said, the oxygen within the force field allowing the both of them to speak. "I have long been hoping to meet you, Kara Zor-el, if only to pay tribute to another of Kal-El's kind who has also become a false champion in the eyes of my people."

Kara tensed her arms and shoulders as she tore her attention between her dangerous foe and the far off battlefield. The steady gaze wasn't quite as still as the cold glare that the Cyborg Superman had for her but it was nearly the best that she could offer. "I'm not a hero like my cousin, Mister Henshaw. I am a soldier that is here to do what needs to be done."

Henshaw smiled, a stomach turning sight given the twisted flesh and metal that served as his face. "I suppose I can appreciate such an undertaking. After all, at one time I was nothing more than a poor soul who wished to explore the wonders of the stars. That dream allowed me to be exploited by others whose intentions were not quite so principled. Your cousin, for example."

The last daughter of Krypton settled herself into a traditional Shotokan stance, an odd sight given the zero gravity but it did serve as another hint of preparation for what was inevitably to come. "As much as you would like to believe it, my cousin didn't have anything to do with what happened to you. As sad as your life has been, your choices have always been your own and no one else's."

"I must disagree. My actions were created from the crimes of others, Kryptonian. In fact, I originally turned to the Manhunters searching for a way to be shuffled off this mortal coil. So I would no longer have to live this life that I wished to be rid of so long ago. However, since I cannot die, I might as well kill as many people as I can."

Henshaw stretched the metallic tendons in his right hand, a move that placed each of his four Qwardian power rings in plain and ominous sight. "And these will give me the power to do so."

Kara sped forward, no longer willing to waste any more words. She felt a bit of a sting rising from her knuckle as her right fist slammed into Henshaw's chin but she also knew that her opening salvo had hurt the cyborg a great deal more. Hastily following up with a left jab to the chin and a kick to the gut, the powerful and precise attacks allowed the young woman to use her superior speed to gain the momentary advantage. Following up with a blast of heat vision that was intended to melt the metal arm that connected the rings to its holder, Kara heard Henshaw let out an indignant grunt before having her jaw rocked by a stiff left backhand.

Hardly a physical slouch himself, Henshaw soon employed his own phenomenal strength and agility in order to do some damage of his own. Stunning his opponent for the slightest of moments with a sturdy punch to the gut, he brought his new weapons into play by firing a triplicate blast aimed straight for where that ridiculous S would have been had she still been wearing the costume that Miss Kent had sown for her. He flared up the power within his fourth ring a mere half of a second later, creating a photonic wall that Kara soon crashed into. The barrier allowed her to continue to be pelted by the eldritch energy while preventing her from being forced backward by the force of the attack.

Quite expecting that the battle had already been won, Henshaw was quite surprised when his body's internal sensors reported an intense blast of heat still pouring from the girl's eyes. He analyzed the intensity of the young woman's blast, quickly calculating that it eclipsed Kal-El's energy manipulation abilities nearly twice over. However, his all-too-human fascination lasted for only a moment, whereupon he intensified his attack once again.

* * *

Throughout all this chaos, Kara's mind somehow managed to be occupied by something else.

It was a memory, yet another recollection that she had subconsciously longed to bury during her long journey away from the only home she had ever known. Her past efforts to put this horror out of her mind's eye left her unable to place the time but the familiar sight of the imaging equipment and the cold blue eyes staring back at her screamed that she was within her father's laboratory. Phantom pain of the past mixed with the genuine pain of the present as the magic around her threatened to overwhelm her.

Kara could see her father screaming at her, his words rendered silent both by the noise of the eldritch pulses slamming into her body and the agony that rang through her body and soul. She strained to listen to what he was telling her, perhaps out of some childishly blind hope that the answer behind why she was being put through this hell would lay there. Clamping her eyes shut and gritting her teeth, she tried whatever she could think of to hear through the glass, to understand through the suffering.

And soon she did.

And she didn't like what she found in the least.

"LISTEN TO ME CLOSELY! YOU NEED TO FIGHT THIS! THIS IS THE ONLY WAY YOU WILL GROW STRONG, MY DAUGHTER!! I WILL NOT ALLOW OUR DESTINY TO BE DENIED BECAUSE YOU ARE UNWILLING TO ACCEPT THE LABORS YOU WILL BE FORCED TO BEAR! _FIGHT_!!"

* * *

She could feel the drop of blood she had drawn from her lower lip as it welled up and then slid down the pale, pink ridge. The combination of the surrounding heat and the chill of space made her skin clammy and sweat-strewn as she fought to survive the efforts of the Sinestro Corps general. Shaking her mind free of the painful recollection, Kara struggled to organize her thoughts in order to guide them to another place.

She could almost feel the snow gently falling upon her head and shoulders as she took in the nearly untainted beauty of the Alaskan tundra, the bite of the mild, winter winds doing nothing to chill the contentment she drew from the scene before her. Casting her eyes down to the ground, she caught sight of another sight that she found to be even more appealing. The mixture of the young man's lightly tanned skin and his black hair momentarily stole her breath from her lungs. He was wearing the black sweater that Bruce had bought for him just shortly after he and Nightwing had left for Nanda Parbat nearly seven months ago. A small, suspicious part of her wondered if he had read her mind in order to discover how much she liked how he looked in that particular article of clothing but she soon thought the better of it.

"Might want to take a seat, yeah?" asked The Black Dog as a hint of color faded from his cheeks. "Imagine that we'd have plenty of time to take in the sights after we finish up with the morning's trainin'."

Kara followed her teacher's request with a giggle and a grin, bending down in order to sit cross legged upon the frozen ground. Despite the fact that his entire body was snuggly clothed within the sweater, a pair of faded black jeans and his familiar Doc Martens, she could still feel the heat radiating from Lloyd's body. Shaking herself free of the sensation, she allowed her eyes to gently slide shut just as Batman and Lloyd had taught her to do, her mind gliding through her previously troubled thoughts.

_So much has happened since I came to Gotham City. Receiving all this strength and serenity. I never felt like anything like this when I was staying in Themyscira, even with all the training and the talk of the spirits of warriors and all that trash. _

_Then again_, she unnecessarily reminded herself, _maybe that was what the problem was. To the Amazons I was nothing but a warrior who needed to be tested and trained. Life in Gotham may be hard but at least this is a place I can be something besides Supergirl. Here I can be just Kara. . . whoever the hell that is. . . who just happens to be sitting next to a somewhat cute guy. Even if he is a little older than. . ._

"Ya ready to start, Zor-el?"

She could feel herself jumping in surprise as she got her mind back on the prospective prize. After several quiet moments, she began to focus upon how the air in her body seemed to flutter up from her feet and into the very tip of her mind before settling back down again. It was a seemingly endless, peaceful cycle that soothed her nerves that made her ready to take on everything and nothing.

When Lloyd spoke again, it was as if the roughly hewn sound of his voice was merely wafting through her head. "Now, I can't rightly say that I know a great deal of what's behind that heat vision of yours. What I can tell you though is that magic is all about the mind. An', since magic is all about changin' what's goin' on around ya, you've gotta feel right with dippin' yourself into what you want to change."

Kara felt herself nodding (although she wasn't entirely certain if she believed that what Lloyd said had made even the slightest bit of sense).

"It's not something that ya just gonna pick up in a day," Lloyd went on, his calm and even candor a perfect match with the serenity of the frozen landscape. "An' the bugger of it all is that it's never somethin' you're gonna master 'cause that's not what this's about. Ya just gotta remember to keep goin', one day at a time, success or fail, 'cause that's how we're gonna learn to flow through it. You're too bloody strong not to."

* * *

The heat of the yellow blast was causing her skin to blister and her blood to boil but Kara did her best to remain calm. As the laborious seconds waded forward, Kara found herself growing more comfortable with the strain of keeping herself alive as the power shooting from her eyes began to intensify and spread out around her. Reminding herself of the importance of the task at hand, not to mention the thought of everything she would miss out doing if she allowed herself to fall here, she fought just as her father had implored her to do. And, just as Lloyd had showed her, she maintained the peace of mind to figure out just how to pull that off.

Using her heat vision as a momentary buffer, Kara swerved around Henshaw's attack with all the speed that her tired body could muster. Meanwhile, being unable to redirect his assault in time, the Cyborg Superman was left all but defenseless when Kara slammed both her fists into his sturdy metal abdomen with a force that sent him hurtling away from the main battlefield much as he had done to her several minutes before. Unlike him, however, Kara followed up her attack by hurtling ahead of him and landing a kick to the back of Henshaw's head that set off a flood of sensory alarms through Henshaw's positronic nerves, each and every one of them informing the Sinestro Corps general of possibly critical damage. Despite those distressing bits of data, Henshaw was able of using his own formidable constitution to recover and successfully parry the next attack: a right hook that he managed to swerve around by a hair's breadth.

The two foes briefly stared each other down, the both of them accepting the fact that this battle would not be settled as quickly as they had previously anticipated. With no other real way to communicate with one another, the two of them kept on fighting.

* * *

_The Batcave_

"What the hell is that thing?!"

Both of the impromptu tour guides let out a gush of laughter. However, while Cecilia's mirth mostly consisted of an ungainly snort along with a gush of breath that was pried forth from her lungs, Cassandra Cain had kept herself to some well-concealed rumbling from her throat that she instinctively attempted to cover up. This, of course, made her much more equipped to answer her partner's question.

"It is a giant penny, of course." Batgirl's tone was decidedly sarcastic as Thomas Blake gave her a look that undoubtedly revealed that he was hardly impressed with her answer. "I don't really know where Batman got it from though."

"I DO!" Arrowette cheerfully exclaimed. "Bats got it from some guy called The Penny Plunderer when he first got started fighting crime, like, during World War II or something. Alfred told me all about it."

"I bet he could," Catman admitted. "And who in the hell goes and calls themselves 'The Penny Plunderer'?"

"I dunno," Cissie replied as she shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe somebody who's smart enough not to call themselves Catman?"

Blake treated the bemused archer to a slow burn while Cassandra passed the time by absently scratching the bridge of her nose. "I am not about to get any flak about names from somebody who calls herself Arrowette," he countered. The witty retort caused Cissie to playfully cross her eyes and stick out her tongue, causing The Catman to shake his head in mild bemusement as he quickly turned his attention back to the treasure trove of weapons, snapshots, and assorted memorabilia that had been moved to the west wing of the cave. "Giant pennies, freeze rays, bowling pins, film reels of old cartoons. . . hell, even some of Deathstroke's old swords. Just who the hell is this guy?"

"Someone that would be quite difficult to emulate, as I'm sure you've come to realize, Mister Blake."

Both Arrowette and Catman were unable to shackle their surprise as they leapt at the sound of the new arrival. Batgirl, on the other hand, calmly tilted her head to the left as she took in the sight of The Martian Manhunter calmly standing at the entrance of the Trophy Room, his deep, chartreuse skin melding quite well with the cavern's subdued lighting. His familiar blue cape flowed down the Martian's muscular back, its fringes brushing against the peak of his dark blue boots as he looked upon the three Earthlings with his usual calm and serene style.

"OREO MAN!" Cissie shouted with decidedly less decorum as she rushed to hug the hero often referred to as the figurative spinal cord of the Justice League of America. A small but warm smile surfaced upon J'onn's face as he accepted the exuberant gesture and returned the embrace soon after.

"I don't suppose that I could convince you to believe that I'm not trying to be like The Batman, can I?"

J'onn's smirk grew slightly wider as Cecilia pulled away from him, an infectiously cheery grin on the young archer's lips. "If it makes you feel better, Catman. I have often found myself attempting to follow The Batman's approach during my own career as a private detective. To this day I am still questioning the wisdom of participating within such a tricky undertaking."

While Catman seemed content to regard the understanding nod that Cassandra had to give to him, Arrowette launched herself into another topic of interest as she accepted her pilfered copy of _On the Road _back from whom she had lent it out to. "So what brings ya here, Double M? 'Cause I'm fairly damn sure that you're not just here to get another book from the second floor library."

"Indeed not, Arrowette. In fact, I am here at Bruce's behest to share some new information regarding The Silver Coyote and his forces."

"Indeed you are." Batman interrupted as he swept into sight of those within the Trophy Room. "You are not, however, here to pretend you are a tourist or participating in some kind of impromptu book club so I would suggest that all of you join me in front of the computer."

Despite the warning, Cecilia and J'onn took a moment to stare at one another as Cassandra quickly moved to follow her former boss. The cape of The Dark Knight swept behind him as he made his way back to the trio of Cray supercomputers situated at the very heart of the cavern beneath Wayne Manor. Catman was closely behind Batgirl, his attention momentarily focused upon one of The Penguin's trick umbrellas before making his exit.

"I hope you don't try and act like an asshole like he does, do ya?"

J'onn couldn't help but smile once again. "That is one of his particular traits that I have tried my best to avoid impersonating."

* * *

The trip towards Noah Kuttler's information center was rather short and uncomplicated for the unusual collection of crime fighters. What was waiting for them, however, was anything but uncomplicated.

"I believe we may very well have found one of Vincent's key facilities," The Calculator confessed.

"Are you sure?" Cecilia asked as her eyes opened wide. "And how the hell didn't you find it sooner?"

"Well, I have been rather busy," Noah pointed out in an understandably defensive manner. "Not to mention that the avenues I had to explore in order to find it were quite unexpected indeed."

"As each of you know," Bruce threw in as Noah busied himself by cleaning his glasses, "we have long determined that Edgar Cizko has been and continues to be one of The Silver Coyote's major financial backers. With that knowledge in hand, I asked The Calculator to conduct a more intensive investigation upon Doctor Psycho's finances."

"Quite so," Noah admitted as he placed his spectacles back upon the bridge of his nose. "And the request produced quite the inspiration. Realizing that my former colleague would have been quite keen on the idea of pilfering from the finances of his fellow Society heads, I chose to investigate the activities within the dummy accounts established by the late Alexander Luthor."

"Well, there's an inspired maneuver," Arrowette complimented. "And I'm guessin' your little fact finding mission uncovered something other than a carefully balanced checkbook?"

"Precisely," Noah said as he made his way towards his usual work station. Pressing the refresh icon upon his browser, the three monitors soon returned to life as they revealed everything from budgeting ledgers to what appeared to be an old factory surrounded by snow. "One particularly active account had been created within a private fund established by the National Bank of Finland nearly three months before the Battle of Metropolis. This dummy tally had been the primary financier behind the purchase of a large section of property on the northwestern coast of Alaska. My suspicions provoked, I then asked Mister J'onnz to conduct an informal investigation."

"And the analysis proved to be quite suspicious indeed," J'onn followed up, his muscular arms crossed over her expansive chest. "I detected a wide array of latent telepathic activity that I was able to examine in greater detail with the aid of The Watchtower's neurological scanning equipment. The energy I managed to glean from the area around the site seemed to match the signatures that we have past associated with The Mensobous Luminitas."

"Which means that Vincent and some of his butt buddies may still be there," Arrowette needlessly (though amusingly) elaborated. "So what are we going to do with all this info?"

"Well, the first matter that we must consider is that this could very well be a trap," J'onn said. "After all, Vincent and his colleagues have managed to keep their cards remarkably close to the belt thus far. I find it rather unlikely that our opponents would make such a critical error."

"That's because you're a detective."

All eyes suddenly turned toward Catman, who seemed to be quite surprised with the words that had just come out of his mouth. Still, the former trapper and big game hunter was sharp enough to recognize that the spot light was now upon him and he quickly responded in kind.

"You gotta realize that Doctor Psycho is, first and foremost, a hunter. A sick and depraved hunter, granted, but a hunter nonetheless and a hunter's only job is to focus upon their prey. Now this Vincent guy may have gotten into Psycho's ear but I think it's safe to say that he thought the accounting smokescreen was enough to keep us from spotting this."

"I agree," The Batman quickly concurred. "And furthermore, if we are going to get the most that we can out of this discovery, we are going to need to move upon it as quickly as possible."

"Woah, woah, woah," Arrowette quickly protested as she slid in front of her intimidating patrol partner. "Slow down a second or two, boss! Even if this isn't a trap, who the hell's to say that we've got enough good guys to actually do something about whatever the hell is going on up there?"

"I'm well aware of that possibility, Arrowette. Just as I am conscious of the slim probability that this could, in fact, be a trap. This is why I am going to make certain that the team I'm sending up there is strong enough to defend themselves and quick enough to make an escape should the need arise."

"All right," Cissie relented as she continued to stand tall in front of The Batman. "So just who is going to be taking this little trip? 'Cause if you're going then ya sure as shit ain't leavin' me behind!"

Bruce couldn't help but give his noisy charge a bemused half-smirk. "I wasn't intending to. I will lead the Alaska team seconded by J'onn and supported by Arrowette, Catman, Knockout, and Scandal. The combination of J'onn's telekinesis and The Watchtower's teleportation equipment will be enough to get us out in case we run into something we can't handle on our own."

The Dark Knight turned away from his silent audience as he made his way to the extensive garage that housed the stealth aircraft that would soon take his team to their intended destination. Arrowette followed just behind her partner, something she had certainly never seen herself doing when she first made her way to Gotham.

"Y'know, with Steffie not here, I feel compelled to question your judgment when I have no idea what to do otherwise."

"Duly noted," Batman replied without missing a step. "And I'm guessing that you're worried about stretching ourselves too thin?"

"You really are a good detective."

To his credit, Bruce did not bring "The Batglare" to the table. "I've already contacted people who will be able to provide some additional support for Gotham should the need arise. And, as for our current expedition, well, I believe I've found another card I can play there as well."

* * *

_It's the end of the world as we know it, _Lloyd and Steph telepathically sang together as several dozen Manhunters and the surviving 19 Sinestro Corps members surrounded them and the weakened Big Whale. _It's the end of the world as we know it! And we feel fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!_

The telepathic gallows humor did a great deal to lighten the duo's hearts as they combined their waning energy to create a force barrier that pushed back their foes once again. Just as they had planned it, Stephanie fired a corkscrew blast just as Lloyd cut the power to the barrier, a shot that punched clean through the chest of a Sinestro Corps member with pale, blue skin. Clever maneuvers such as these had done well to cut into the enemy force's numbers but both of the seasoned, young warriors knew that they were testing their luck. Though the members of the Sinestro Corps that had attacked them had nowhere near the degree of field experience possessed by Lloyd or Stephanie, that experience also told them that sound tactics could only go so far.

_Y'know, puppy. Just in case we don't make it_, Stephanie said as she intensified the force behind her energy claws while creating a shield that barely deflected a trio of energy blasts, _I want to tell you that I'll always remember what a sad, shy little boy you were when you try to hit on Kara._

The Black Dog would have given quite a bit to have the time to shoot an angry glare at his scurrilous little sister. However, he was far too busy slicing a Manhunter in two while using his telekinesis to try and choke the life out of one of the Sinestro Corps members that was currently trying to perforate him. _Yeah, ya sad, sick little miscreant. An' I'll always remember how woefully sad your sense of humor can be whenever we get into these kinds of soddin' mixes, ya poor, sad, horny little birdbrain. _

_Fuckin' fast little fuckers! _Roy yelled as another one of his shots harmlessly sailed past a swerving Yellow Lantern. _Can't you slow any of these assholes down, Wall-Eye?_

_It's not like I'm not trying here! _The Flash telepathically yelled back. _The magic of the rings is making it difficult to lock onto their movements. _

_Well, then I'm just gonna have to lock onto them instead,_ Roy reasoned as he fired again. This time, his shot hit its target, the force of the energy burning through a Yellow Lantern's force barrier and searing the flesh off of their bones. _Hot shit! Got one!_

_The ship's defensive energy wells have been cut to half of its maximum efficiency_, Fries reported, his almost flat tone a stark contrast to the timbre of his younger compatriots. _I will have to divert power from the ship's offensive systems in order to prevent critical damage to The Big Whale._

_Make it so, Number One_, Lloyd told Fries over the telepathic sniggers of Roy and Stephanie. _I want you blokes to truck it to Oa as fast as you possibly can. Kara, Tweety, and I'll cover your escape._

_Woah! Back the truck up! _Wally cried out from the slightly safer location of the bridge of The Big Whale. _I'm not about to offer you guys up like sacrificial lambs! We're getting through this together!_

The Black Dog let out an angry, silent hiss as a blast of yellow energy cut into his right tricep. Turning the pain from the burning and the bleeding into concentrated anger, he employed his telekinesis to send his sword cutting through his attacker and the three Manhunters around the Yellow Lantern, sloppily incapacitating each of his targets in quick succession.

_The quicker you get to Oa the quicker you can send the help that can get us out of this, _Lloyd bit back. _Now you told me that you were going to follow my orders, Running Man, so I'm tellin' you to follow this one. GET MOVIN'!_

_Awwww, I love it when you try to sound forceful._

_SHUT UP, STEPH! _Lloyd and Wally yelled almost simultaneously.

_Sensors indicate a series of approaching energy signatures_, Fries reported as he rerouted power to the ship's engines. _They appear to closely match the patterns being projected by the Qwardian power rings._

_That sounds pretty right_, Stephanie said excitedly. _Of course, the Sinestro Corps probably can't do that nice little green signal flare that's coming right our way!_

Just as Robin had indicated, a small barrage of green lights seemed to be making its way toward the chaotic battlefield. One of these lights was significantly ahead of its counterparts as it seemed to recklessly barrel into the fray, the energy's source tearing into the Manhunters and Yellow Lanterns with an energetic fury. Incinerating another Sinestro Corps member with a high-powered blast, the warrior tore into the other foes around him with blinding speed and an almost savage viciousness. The green blur was so fast, in fact, that the best way to determine the identity of the fighter was through the sight of the most ridiculous bowl cut this side of Alpha Centauri.

_GUY GARDNER?! _Roy bellowed in disbelief as he caught the sight of the former Justice League member through Stephanie's eyes. _They ask us for help and they give us Guy freakin' Gardner!_

Despite Arsenal's reluctance, Lloyd and Stephanie were quick to join up with the often defiant member of the Green Lantern Corps. Other members of the galaxy's premier police force were also quick to join in the fight, their arrival quickly shifting the numerical advantage to the side of the supposed angels.

"Take a rest there, kiddies," Guy told the two tired Misfits as he created an oxygen bubble around the three of them. "And welcome to hell by the way. Glad you could make it, Littlest Lantern."

Even the extension of Stephanie's middle fingers did little to detract from the luminosity of her tired smile. "Glad to be here, Saint Shithead."

As the Manhunters and Yellow Lanterns began to pull back, another friendly figure came zooming into Guy's energy bubble. "Henshaw teleported off. Where were you guys?"

Instead of responding to Kara's legitimate question, Gardner occupied his time by fixing the half Kryptonian with a blatantly lascivious leer. "Well, if it isn't the teenaged Superbabe. Where's that lovely little short skirt of yours? 'Cause without that little number you are clearly overdressed for the occasion."

Stephanie's decision to turn and listen to the distinct growl rumbling from Lloyd's lips left her to be surprised by yet another arrival. Despite the fact that Gardner had been the first on the battlefield, he was the man who had made certain to get a team together that could get to The Big Whale as quickly as possible. There was little doubt that this was a potentially risky undertaking, particularly with the beleaguered state that the Green Lantern Corps was already in after the initial assault of The Sinestro Corps. To his credit, however, Hal Jordan had quite the reputation as a risk taker.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, let me tell you guys and gals something. When I started this little project of mine, I never figured that I would get to the 400 review mark. Of course, now that I've gotten to it, I want more reviews. More! MORE!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

So. . . thanks for all the reviews and I hope to hear more from all of you. Like I've said before, your compliments and feedbacks are a big reason why I've been doing this for going on two years now.

And on the comics front. . .

Urgh. . .

Y'know, I've always been sort of in the middle when it comes to Grant Morrison. I've always enjoyed the gritty, sci-fi elements of his writing as well as his depiction of the heroes in his stories as competent but imperfect. That being said, I've frequently been a little leery of his "SHOCKING PLOT TWISTS". Now he's currently at the creative head of what could be two of DC's most influential story arcs in the last decade and he starts things off by pointlessly killing one of the company's most iconic characters for really no reason whatsoever. All complaints aside, I really hope J'onn's death in the first issue of Final Crisis has something more behind it than it seems because that entire issue just seemed like a profoundly messy display.

Then again, maybe I'm just being too serious. Ah well! How about the next issue preview?

* * *

Issue #63 Preview

Well, well, well. Lookie at all the new arrivals to our little comicverse! We've got Guy Gardner, Hal Jordan, and a whole bunch of Yellow Lanterns looking to take over the universe. It's a small wonder that we can get enough screen time for our usual suspects. Still, between the Green Lantern reunion and the trip to Alaska we should be able to get everybody to earn their paycheck. Or, if that's not enough, maybe the chaos that's about to erupt in Gotham may spice things up a bit. Watch the chaos unfold in the next installment of The Misfits: Cut to the Quick. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	63. Cut to the Quick

Issue #63

Cut to the Quick

Although it would probably be a rather trite move to even make the comparison, the central headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps looked like something straight out of a science-fiction show. Not _Doctor Who_-like with the cardboard backgrounds and the strings that were a little too easy to spot on a high-definition television, mind you, but something that may have been born through the eyes of the Wachowski brothers before they had, as Lloyd had once succinctly put it, became nuttier than squirrel shit. Stark, towering buildings meshed seamlessly with the majesty of the expansive lunar fields, the wide expanses of flat rock designed to serve as training centers for Lanterns young and old. The combination of open spaces and modern architecture made the artificial planet truly appear as if it were a military training center without peer. Throw in the distinct hum of eldritch energy that seemed to radiate from the very surface of the planet and you could see why it had become, in its short history of less than a decade, a hub of intergalactic activity for civilizations throughout the galaxy.

It would also explain why the Sinestro Corps would go into such efforts to claim the planet for themselves. Efforts that had, quite obviously, had prompted Guy Gardner to become quite perturbed with the goings on.

"It was the damndest, most fuckin' pathetic sight I've ever had the misfortune to see," the mop-topped Green Lantern railed to The Misfits, Hal Jordan, and anyone else within the extensive hallway that just happened to have their ears open. "When those yellow bastards showed up on our scanners it took three-and-a-half minutes to even finish mobilizing the attack squads! Three god damn and a half motherfuckin' minutes! Let me just say this: the old Corps would have been halfway to handing Sinestro's goons their asses by the time this pathetic bunch of meat sacks were able to put their jammies on all the way! I'm tellin' ya, Hallie, you and Pinky have been pickin' up nothing but a whole shitload of softies."

"So I've been told," Hal Jordan replied while resisting the urge to rub his throbbing temples. "By you. Many, many times."

The loud-mouthed Green Lantern shot back with a snort before yanking his head away from his much more respected predecessor. A product of the harsh streets of Baltimore, Guy Gardner had learned the value of finding the right people to watch his back the first time his alcoholic father had slammed his meaty fists into his cheek. Quickly growing tired of being nothing more than a source of frustration for his mother and a possible target for his father, he soon fled to the slightly safer confines of the dilapidated, vacant buildings of Sandtown. The move would quickly lead into a life of juvenile delinquency, an existence he would have most likely become trapped within for the rest of his life had his older brother made certain that it would not come to pass. Though it took some time, he eventually got his life back together with the aid of his oldest friend, eventually receiving an education degree at the University of Michigan in order to help other people that could have easily slipped through life's cracks.

Needless to say, Mister Gardner's life had taken more than its fair share of twists and turns since then. However, his intentions, as well as his, for lack of a better term, unique attitude remained the same. Obnoxiously self-confident, doggedly loyal, an inspired warrior, and a man who was seemingly devoid of any form of tact or good manners, Guy was a man you either loved or you hated. And, as most members of The Green Lantern Corps would be happy to attest to, there were a great deal more people who believed in the latter chioce.

"Let me tell ya, Littlest Lantern," Guy informed his fellow fair-haired Green Lantern as the group continued to make their way down one of the long tunnels that bridged the gaps between buildings. "Ya pretty much the only one out of this new crop of Lanterns that can figure out the ass end of their own costume!" The compliment was quickly accompanied by a brief, cursory examination of Kara and Lloyd, who looked back at him with matching dull expressions. "Here's hopin' the rest of your little cartoon pals can hold their own end too."

"We've been known to pull our own weight," Lloyd calmly informed his inquisitor. "We're here to help save your hides, after all."

Gardner didn't even bother to hide his skepticism as he spat on the floor of the formerly pristine vestibule. "Seems to me like that remains to be seen."

"For God's sake, take it easy, Guy," Hal calmly chastised his comrade-in-arms before playfully wrapping an arm around Arsenal's shoulders. "Have to tell you, Roy my boy, that this is the last place I expected to see you at. How's Ollie doing?"

"I wouldn't know." The tone in Roy's force was clearly defensive but at least he didn't make any attempt to shrug off the older man's one-handed embrace. "Been pretty busy."

Unable to hide his slight frown, Hal decided to try another avenue. "Hey, it's nice to see you back in the game, Fastest Man Alive. How are Linda and the kids?"

"Doin' pretty well," replied The Flash, his tone only a titch warmer than what Roy had chosen to go with. "Linda just went back to work and she's really enjoying herself.

Having the awareness to realize he was being rebuffed once again, the grimace on Hal's face grew even more pronounced.

"Hey, Hallie," Gardner butted in while sporting a wicked smile. "Maybe you should exercise a little more caution yourself when ya tryin' to chat up with The Batclan. Y'know, seein' as how you and your buddies went and did the little _snip-snip_," the scurrilous Green Lantern briefly used his fingers to mimic a pair of scissors in order to emphasize the expression, "with their boss's brainstem."

The prolonged silence that came after Guy's latest effort of diplomacy seemed to sift through the crowded area as the group's movement momentarily came to a stop. Thankfully, the awkward stillness was quickly broken by a boisterous yell that could have easily been mistaken for a war cry.

"THE LITTLEST POOZER HAS RETURNED!!"

Stephanie's dour countenance broke almost instantly, her small face set into a smile before that and the rest of her were hurtling forward. Though the young Green Lantern made her arrival at a speed that most would consider to be unsafe or unhealthy, her target seemed to have little trouble with the task of catching her in midair and spinning her about. Although it was obviously not the most appropriate reaction for a teacher to have when interacting with one of their former students, it was also safe to say that Stephanie was not the usual student nor was Kilowog the usual instructor.

Though most people would consider Hal Jordan to be the greatest Green Lantern alive, those same people would be likely to also admit that Kilowog was the warrior that defined what the Green Lantern Corps should have been all about. The sole survivor of the Bolovax Vik, a race of communal creatures who believed in a highly utilitarian way of life, Kilowog was both a gifted genetic scientist and a hardened and renowned warrior. This combination of strength, intelligence and willpower had lead the ordained Green Lantern of Space Sector 674 to become responsible for training a strong percentage of the Corps' new recruits over the past several decades, including Hal Jordan, Kyle Rayner, and, for at least as long as she remained willing to stay upon Oa, a then 16-year-old Stephanie Brown.

"It's a good thing that you're not back at basic training, soldier," Kilowog informed Earth's youngest Green Lantern as the two of them made their way back to the others, "'cause I don't believe that costume of yours is qualifies as a regulatory Corps uniform."

Stephanie let out an almost playful frown while pretending to examine her burnt-orange battle armor and midnight-black cape. "What?" she asked in a mockingly defensive fashion. "It's not like I'm showing any skin here. And besides, Pinky with a Brain, you know me! I've gotta be me!"

The towering, brutish fellow with dark pink skin let out a sardonic grunt that seemed quite befitting of his almost porcine appearance. "Young lady, I was able to figure that out during your first day of training." The big man gave The Flash a friendly punch to the shoulder before launching into his explanation. "This little poozer started mouthing off to everyone she could find from the moment anyone her laid eyes on her. Fifteen minutes into our first training exercise she's got one of my drill sergeants in the battle arena trying to teach her a lesson. And a couple seconds after that, she's got this 15-year veteran down on his belly and yelling for help while she's stretching his underwear over his head."

Kilowog's entire intended audience all burst out in laughter.

"So you really did give Graf Toren a wedgie?" Hal asked Stephanie through clenched teeth. "I thought that was just another one of those wild rumors that are always floating around here!"

Stephanie remained calm while the people around her did anything but, her slight shoulders sliding up and then down. "Ah, pissing off that crusty old fart ain't anything much to brag about. It's not half as funny as that time when Bats knocked out Gardner here with one punch."

Guy let out a distinct scowl while Hal, Roy, and Wally worked to muffle their continued laughter.

"And quite frankly," Stephanie continued, "I'm a whole lot more interested in finding out just where the hell Kylie's at."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow as he noticed the other three Green Lanterns cinch up at the mention of the unfamiliar name. Interested in what was about to come, he shuffled his question back and chose to wait for his little sister's response.

"Y'know. Kyle Rayner?" Stephanie pressed on. "Guy with a really goofy grin? Likes his sketch pads? Has that wavy, black hair that you usually only see on those male magazine models who look like they could be closet butt burglars?" The silence that came from her fellow Corps members made her finally realize that something was wrong.

"Perhaps that is something that we should save for the official briefing."

Stephanie briefly shook off her confusion and looked up to see the stoic expression on the face of John Stewart. Although the professionalism in the man's overall countenance was hardly unusual, the hint of sympathy that leaked through the man's distinct, black eyes certainly was.

"If you would, ladies and gentlemen," Stewart continued, "Mister Fries and the others are waiting for us in the main conference room."

John's request to continue moving forward finally inspired much of the group to move. Still, while Guy, Hal, Kara, Kilowog, and Stephanie had quickly followed the order, Lloyd remained still as he sent a brief telepathic command to his fellow male Misfits.

_Oi. Who's this Rayner fella?_

Wally chose to walk ahead while Lloyd and Roy matched his pace while just a couple steps behind. _He's another one of Earth's Green Lanterns. He was the JLA's Green Lantern during all the mess with Ra's Al-Ghul and when Sue was murdered. Hell of a guy._

_Could very well be a butt burglar_, Roy added, causing Wally to give him an exceedingly cross look. _At least I always suspected so._

_Well, 's much as that sounds nice an' fluffy_, Lloyd bit back as the three of them moved along. _It doesn't quite explain why his name would draw that kind of reaction_.

_I don't know. I can't explain it either_, Roy replied as they took a sharp left on the way to their destination. _But something tells me that this whole thing is going to get worse before it gets better_.

* * *

_22,000 feet over The Seward Peninsula – 35 miles north of Nome _

"Steel-tip arrows, check. C-4 incendiary arrows, check. Modified, white phosphorous bolts, big ol' check."

Arrowette gave the green-tipped arrow a good-natured twirl before placing it back into her well-stocked quiver. "If only I had remembered my back-up pair of thermal underwear."

Scandal let out an affable sigh from the passenger seat. "Look on the bright side, Cecilia. Not only do the conditions appear to be quite favorable but it is also highly unlikely that we will be spending a great deal of our mission outdoors."

"Well, I suppose that makes things a little better," Cecilia admitted with a rather reluctant huff before turning her attention towards the man to her left. "Hey, Litter Man. Where can I get a sweet little suit like that?"

The leader of The Secret Six swerved her eyes toward the back of the plane and watched as Thomas Blake, the man who had somehow become a good friend over the course of the last several years, merely shook his head in response. "Really, Batman," she playfully chastised the plane's captain. "At this point I must question the relative level of preparedness of your team."

"My team is quite well prepared, Miss Savage," The Batman replied without a trace of good humor as he simultaneously deployed the craft's landing gear. "No matter how much my partner would like to pretend otherwise. Prepare for landing."

"Stealth cloak remains fully functional," Noah noted from the safety of The Batcave. "Radar cross section remains null."

"Telepathic dampeners are stable as well," The Martian Manhunter added from his own side terminal within the stealth craft. "Additionally, I am not detecting any brainwave activity either outside or from within the facility."

While the field generals busied themselves by preparing for the task ahead, the foot soldiers occupied their time by casting their eyes upon the oil refinery that The Calculator had effectively steered them towards. "Correct me if I am mistaken," Knockout said with a smidge of curiosity, "but this facility appears to be a great deal larger than the schematics presented it to be during the mission briefing."

Kay was quite correct with her observation. In fact, what had once been a petroleum processing plant responsible for generating an average output of 440,000 barrels of oil a day for nearly 20 years had somehow been transformed into a factory that, by all evidence, now specialized in the production of eldritch energy sigils designed to warp the minds of the guilty and innocent alike. J'onn could feel himself shudder as the traces of malignant energy called out to him like a warped siren's song, a telekinetic train wreck that attracted his curiosity and revolted his sensibilities despite the fact that there was no one mind that he could connect it to. Quite frankly, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or distressed that the others around him clearly could not feel the neurological energy that permeated the thin air around the factory as The Dark Knight brought his stealth craft in for a landing.

"Indeed it is," The Batman grimly replied to Knockout's remark as he expertly brought the plane down. "Which is all the more reason why we should remain on our guard."

Each of The Batman's five teammates were sure to take their leader's advice to heart as they exited the plane and began to approach the seemingly desolate industrial unit A single, sliding steel door was all that separated them from whatever may be inside, an impediment that a certain red-haired former citizen of Apokilips had been quite eager to remove with as much violence as possible. Thankfully, Knockout's paramour had the presence of mind to gently slide in front of her lover, thus restraining the powerhouse just long enough to allow J'onn to employ his telepathy to gently raise the door up instead.

Smiling gently as Scandal gently caressed the armor covering her belly, the woman known as Kay Reynolds took another scan of the potential battlefield. "It appears that the facility has been abandoned like the others."

"Can't say that I blame them," Arrowette said rather grouchily as she rubbed at her forearms. "Nobody in their right mind would be staying out here in this freaking freezer if they didn't have to."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Scandal calmly replied as both she and Batman made their way to a nearby computer terminal. "And, even if this place has been left derelict, that doesn't mean that there isn't anything here that could be used to our advantage." The auburn-haired vigilante gave The Batman a brief, sideways look serving as a subtle invitation to take over. The quiet nod she received in return prompted her to go to work.

"Someone has been here recently," Catman hypothesized as he continued to lurk through the dusky confines. "The dust in the southeast corner of the room isn't as settled as it is everywhere else."

"How in the Sam hell can you tell?" Arrowette asked, her attention momentarily torn between joining Batman and Scandal and wanting to see whatever the hell Blake had apparently seen.

"While the female lions hunt, some species of male lions cover their tracks when they're trying to protect their young," Blake's reply was almost a whisper as he moved in closer to find further proof for his theory. "I can't see the slightest trace of a fingerprint though, which means that whoever pulled this trick either used telekinesis to cover their tracks or is really good with a fan."

"Good eye, Catman," Batman admitted while keeping his eyes on the computer screen. "Of course, the bag of M & M's on the table is a clue that's a little easier to spot."

The former game hunter sucked in a breath while shifting his eyes to the aforementioned slab of wood, where there were indeed some discarded chocolate candies that had clearly been left behind only recently. "Yeah, I suppose that could have worked too," he said rather sheepishly.

"I wouldn't spend too much time beating yourself up about it, Thomas," Scandal said kindly while continuing her activities at the keyboard. "Batman, are you seeing what I'm seeing here?"

Batman, instead of replying directly, turned to speak to his fellow detective. "J'onn. Can you sense any brainwave activity resonating from beneath this facility?"

"No, I cannot," the sole surviving Green Martian quickly replied. "Which means that there is, in fact, no brainwave activity to scan or. . ."

"Or you're being blocked by someone who doesn't want us to know what's going on down there," Batman concluded for him.

"There's another facility underneath this one," Scandal elaborated further.

"Now that sounds like quite the intriguing possibility," Knockout said as she gleefully pounded her left fist against her right palm. "Perchance the discovery of our new destination requires a bit of violent excavation?"

"I think we'll be better off using the door several floors below," Scandal said with a smirk as she rose up from her chair.

The former Fury gave her aficionada an almost playful glower, a disturbing sight indeed when mixed with the redhead's almost feral grin. "You never get to let me have any fun, poppet."

"Well, judging from what I may believe to be down there," Batman said as he and Scandal passed by the others in order to lead the way to the second floor basement. "You may soon have the opportunity to become quite entertained."

* * *

_Green Lantern Corps Headquarters – Main Conference Room_

"The last thing I ever heard about 'Grape Ape' was that he was being hauled off back to Oa after you and John handed him his ass back in Metropolis," Roy confessed while resisting the urge to park his boot-clad feet upon the large, circular table that he and his fellow crime fighters were situated around. "So how the hell did we get to this point?"

"Sinestro was smart enough to set up some countermeasures ahead of time," Hal replied, his handsome features momentarily sullied by an aggravated frown. "According to the Lanterns that had been assigned to monitor the holding cells, Sinestro apparently used his knowledge of transdimensional physics in order to create a portal to the anti-matter universe."

"Well, how the hell did he pull something like that off without that fancy schmancy ring of his?" Stephanie railed, referring to the Qwardian power ring that Sinestro had himself created to serve as a substitute for the Oa power ring that had been stripped from him upon his exile from the galaxy's premier police force.

"The freak job used his own blood as a power source," Guy grumbled just after slamming his own feet onto the table (much to John Stewart's consternation). "Which, by the way, meant that he managed to get away from us for the eleventy billionth fuckin' time."

"Usin' your own blood to serve as a catalyst to alter dimensional physics," Lloyd said with a thoughtful rub of his chin. "I've done that."

"First of all, ewwwwww," said Robin as she gave her big brother a disgusted grin. "Second of all, what's this antiwhosits we're suddenly talkin' about here?"

"Anti-_matter_ universe," John Stewart calmly corrected the younger Lantern. "It was once the home of The Anti-Monitor, which quite likely explains how Sinestro would be able to come into contact with it and, eventually, form a partnership that would supply Sinestro with the power to create his army."

"I still don't believe that it's The Anti-Monitor," Kara firmly repeated from the seat on Lloyd's right. "It just can't be."

"I'm inclined to neither agree nor disagree," Lloyd said darkly, his response a clear effort to nip the possible coming argument in the metaphorical bud. "'Least before I actually cast sight on the beastie. Still, the real question here is if Sinestro's ambitions are something a little more complex than the standard take over the galaxy routine."

John Stewart gave The Misfits' second-in-command a quiet nod, quite thankful that someone else at the table was seemingly willing to get back to business. "He claims that he has created The Sinestro Corps in order to serve as a countermeasure for the reformation of The Green Lantern Corps. And, just as Sinestro claimed to want to do back when he was a solo act, he says he's looking to create order through fear."

"Sounds familiar," Wally couldn't help but admit. "Still, he says that and the first move he makes is to pull a blitzkrieg on the galaxy's biggest police force? Does anybody else see something wrong with that particular cause-and-effect?"

"All right, so we've got a pretty solid feel on his intentions," Lloyd moved on. "The next natural step, of course, is to look for vulnerabilities."

"Ya mean outside of sending The Anti-Monitor to the bone yard?" asked Kilowog.

"We have reason to believe that The Manhunters are currently being used as batteries for the Qwardian power rings," John continued. "That being said, battlefield data indicates that there doesn't appear to be any correlation between the destruction of individual Manhunters and any instance of a Yellow Lantern losing power."

"Huh, so no real answer there," Stephanie grumbled. "Then how about another question. . . What in the hell is up with Kyle Rayner and why do you guys shirk away whenever I mention his. . . SEE!" she exclaimed while pointing an accusing finger first at Hal then at Kilowog. "YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN!"

John let out a tired and frustrated sigh. "Miss Brown, I'm afraid that Sinestro had another trick up his sleeve when he made his attack on Oa. Moreover, he used that trick to make Kyle Rayner his newest general within The Sinestro Corps."

Roy, Stephanie, and Wally all let out a cry of surprise at the news, each of them in disbelief that such a loyal, if occasionally unskilled, soldier could possibly have been swayed. Wally was especially dismayed by the news as he rose to disagree.

Hal beat him to the punch. "It was because of Parallax," he said softly, the regret in his eyes as plain as day. "Sinestro's forces captured Kyle during their opening assault on Oa. Several hours later, reports from Karbarra claim that Kyle was leading a contingent of Yellow Lanterns designed to serve as a ground force. . ."

"NO GOD DAMN WAY!!" Wally spat out. "There's no way that some Alien rip off would be able to get its hooks into Kyle!"

"I'm with Wall-Eye," Stephanie agreed with slightly less volume but almost equal fervor. "You told me that Parallax gets to people through their fear and Kylie doesn't have a bit of fear in him."

"We don't know what The Sinestro Corps could do that would allow Mister Rayner to become corrupted by the Parallax entity," said Soranik Natu, the orange-skinned Korugarian who had been appointed to serve as Sinestro's replacement within the Corps. "But Kyle did just lose his mother."

_Oh. . . _Stephanie said to herself, a large part of her thoughts suddenly drifting back to a woman who was a number of light years away.

"This isn't the time to be shifting the blame around," Hal sternly reminded his fellow Lantern. "What we need to worry about now is how to get him back."

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Kara broke in. "But just who is this Parallax creature that we're talking about? I know of bits and pieces through the information in Batman's database but. . ."

"Yeah, I bet The Bat would have a little bit of info about Bug Boy," Gardner interrupted the half-Kryptonian with a significant bite. "The little pest thinks he's some kind of living embodiment of fear."

"Ah, one of those, yeah?" Lloyd groused as he rubbed his thumb across the thin thatch of hair situated just below his lower lip. "Yet another soddin' thing I'll haf to see to believe. So are we talking about a demonic entity here or something a mite more nasty?"

"We've never been able to confirm Parallax's true origins," John Stewart calmly divulged. "What we do now for certain, however, is that the creature is capable of possession, mind control, and constructing light constructs thanks to the time it spent housed within The Corps' central power battery."

"Kinda surprised that the twit would pick Rayner to be his new best friend," Guy said with a dangerous smirk. "After all, he's never struck me as somebody who wanted to go and play God."

Hal made no effort to hide his distaste for the words that came from Gardner's lips, the former Air Force pilot fixing his fellow Lantern with a stern glare.

Guy noticed his friend's response and, as was his way, didn't give a shit. "Awww, was I not supposed to talk about Hal's little adventure with Parallax? Well, I figured that since he had tried to kill most of the people in this room when he was. . ."

"That's enough, Gardner!" Kilowog barked, the veteran Lantern quick to dismiss talk about Hal's horrific misdeeds when he had become possessed by the same creature that now apparently enraptured Kyle. "Hal wasn't in control of his actions."

"Yeah, let's just keep tellin' ourselves that," Gardner almost growled.

"We don't have time for anymore pointless bickering," John Stewart snapped, his usually impressive stock of patience beginning to run thin.

"Agreed," said Lloyd. "Mister Jordan, you mentioned Karbarra earlier. Any chance we know the reason why an army already equipped with one of the universe's greatest weapons would be interested in attacking or taking over a planet that specializes in weapons manufacturing?"

Hal replied by raising an intrigued eyebrow, indicating his surprise over Black Dog's apparent knowledge of interstellar industrial commercialism. Knowing he was hardly the right person to answer the young man's question, he gave a nod over to Kilowog, who was more than happy to take the floor.

"There's lots of reasons why the Sinestro Corps would want to take down the Karbarrans. They've resisted Sinestro's influences in the past, they've been a valuable resource for the energy wells that provide power to our main power battery, and they would probably be best equipped to prepare others who would want to take the fight to these poozers."

"If you'll forgive me for not reviewing the latest edition of The Green Lantern's Guide to the Galaxy," Stephanie broke in with what could only be construed as a half-hearted apology as she used her ring to create several spectral spheres of energy, "but just who are the Karbarrans?" she asked before proceeding to amuse herself by juggling her newfound creations.

"The Karbarrans are a tribe of ursaroids who have been responsible for creating some of the galaxy's finest weaponry for centuries now," John Stewart answered. "And, as Kilowog said, they have also been longtime allies of the Corps and that alliance is no doubt a significant reason why Sinestro would choose to target it during his initial offensive."

"Ursaroids?" Roy asked.

"Talking bears," Lloyd said, a bemused smirk inching upon his features as he noticed Arsenal's eyes widen in surprise. "Think the Bernstein Bears meet the NRA and throw in a bit of common sense." The added detail upon his definition didn't seem to ease the red-haired sharpshooter in the least. "If it makes ya feel better, Harper, I haven't ever run into a one of 'em that wasn't a decent bloke."

Roy continued to look significantly bumfuzzled for a moment or two longer before finally closing his eyes and ruefully shaking his head. "Well, I'm officially never gonna look at Lian's book supply the same way again."

John Stewart let out an inkling of a grin despite himself. "We also have reason to believe that Leokar Kurkosaw has been placed in charge of the land forces assigned to contain Karbarra's citizens." The imaging equipment at the center of the large table then produced a picture of an enormous, swarthy creature with gray fur covering nearly his entire frame. He looked quite like a woolly mammoth if it had somehow learned to walk upon its hind legs and had figured how to look quite inhospitable while doing it. An enormous scar ran down over his right eye, cheek, chin, and neck before ultimately becoming hidden by what appeared to be a formal military uniform.

"For those of you who are unaware of his exploits, Kurkosaw was once the head warden of one of the galaxy's largest prisons before being dismissed and later imprisoned for performing cruel and unusual practices upon the prisoners."

"Yeah, I had the pleasure of meetin' the bastard a couple of times," Guy contributed with a snarl. "Say what you want about the guy's professionalism but he always seemed happy when I brought in some new prisoners for him to play with."

"Ollie always said that it was good to be happy with your work," Roy replied with a similar timbre.

"He would be a perfect representative of Sinestro's intentions," Stewart darkly acknowledged. "And he's yet another big reason why it would be prudent to liberate Karbarra as quickly as possible."

"So it looks to me like we've got a couple of tasks we need to take care of," The Black Dog concluded while drumming the fingers of his left hand upon the table. "First, we need to get together a group with enough power to take back Karbarra through that line of murderin' wankers that's got this place surrounded. Second, we need enough people to stay behind and deal with said wankers once we get the first group off through one of those portals of yours."

"I like these Earthlings," Soranik Natu admitted with an amiable grin. "Usually you have to beat them over the head with your words before they start to get the picture. No offense." She mischievously added upon earning perturbed looks from the majority of Earth's Green Lanterns.

"No offense taken, sugar buns," Guy brightly replied. "That's why I like workin' with Batsie's brood. They actually know how to clean the shit out of their ears."

"Any assistance that your team can provide would be a tremendous service," Stewart broke in, now long weary of the unnecessary interruptions. "You are free to either continue to work as a team serving upon either force or separate yourselves as you see fit. However, if you feel ill equipped to make such a decision then we will be more than happy to provide further information upon. . ."

"No need, Marine," Lloyd said as he cut the explanation of the briefing's chairperson short. "Flash, I want you and Arsenal to be part of the ground forces on Karbarra. Should give you yobs the chance to work out the cabin fever ya built up on the way 'ere."

"I suppose it beats staring out a window and watching all the festivities again," The Flash agreed with an almost eager smile on his face.

"Fine by me," Arsenal added. "Just so long as I've got something to shoot with and someone to shoot _at_."

"I imagine there'll be plenty of both," Lloyd replied as Stephanie gave the shoulders of the sharpshooter a comradely thump. "Freeze, I'm sending you with them in The Big Whale for deep space support. Have Stewart here or one of his lackies help ya work out the proper crew selection so the ship'll be properly equipped."

"I shall do my best," the aged scientist declared from the southwestern corner of the expansive room, his considerable frame ill-fitting for the rather constrained space of the circular table.

"Of that I've got no doubt," Lloyd said with an even, but confident candor.

"Which leaves me, you, and Kare Bear to lay the smack down on The Sinestro Corps back here on Oa," Stephanie pointlessly clarified. "Well, I always did want another crack at The Anti-Monitor and Magic Moustache Man. After all, you know I never like it when I don't get to be the star of the show."

"Just be sure that you don't get burned by the spotlight, Littlest Poozer," Kilowog gently reminded his audacious former student.

While many of the others within the conference room turned to the task of asking or answering any lingering questions or engaging in small talk, Kara twisted her head and stared into Lloyd's eyes, a question clearly hovering on her lips.

_What are you thinking here?_

Lloyd gave his comrade a pensive glare before giving a silent response of his own. _I'm thinkin' that somethin' about all this stinks._

_Agreed_, The Flash broke in, the former Justice Leaguer having quickly caught on to the actions of his more reserved comrades. _If Sinestro's army has really surrounded the planet then there's no way that we should've gotten here as easily as we did. _

_So what __**are **__we thinking here? _Kara asked again. _And why would Sinestro or whoever else is in charge want us to make it here safely?_

_For all we know, that's just a happy accident_, Lloyd replied. _Quite frankly, I'm more interested in The Anti-Monitor an' this Parallax fellow._

_I still find it hard to believe that The Anti-Monitor is alive_, Kara repeated.

_And I find it hard to believe that Kyle would get taken in so easily by Parallax_, Wally added.

The Black Dog, still tapping his left index finger against the table, let out a slight, contemplative frown. _I think the both of you may have a point on this one. An' furthermore, I'm startin' to think that there's a lot more connections here that we're not seein'._

_Connections? _The Flash inquired, the confusion clearly evident within his thoughts. _Just what do you have percolating through that cranium of yours, Young Master?_

Though a small part of Lloyd had to fight to control the urge to sneer at The Fastest Man Alive, the rest of his mind was hard at work exercising the muscles that Lugae had wanted to eliminate, Mao had taught him to stretch, and Batman had helped hone.

_Just a theory. Nothin' more._

* * *

_Gotham City – The East End_

Catwoman had no idea when the return trip to her loft had somehow turned into a race between her and Bruce's former partner. Still, she had to admit that it was good to see a smile on the boy's face once again. Granted, it wasn't quite as bright as the grin he'd present whenever Bruce got around to paying him a much overdue compliment or as goofy as the one that had been plastered on his face on that fateful night when he was 14 and he and Bruce had managed to catch her just as she had finished sliding out of her cat suit in order to get back into her street clothes but it was a refreshing sight to see nevertheless. Her appreciation for Dick's change in behavior left her more than distracted enough to allow Nightwing to win easily, although Selina knew that it was quite possible that she may not have been able to win even if she was at full capacity.

Dick was that good and had been so for a long time. The kicker was, of course, that he didn't seem to think so and, quite frankly, Selina was quite surprised to find that she still felt the urge to convince him otherwise.

"Something wrong, Selina?" Nightwing asked kindly as he finished retracting his grappling line with one hand while placing an escrima stick back in its holster with the other. "You seem kind of distracted."

Selina made sure to counter with a saucy grin that always caused Nightwing to smirk and prompted his father to grumble. "Maybe I'm a little busy trying to come up with a better answer for your question," she admitted, her hands wrapping around the smooth edges of her otherwise curvaceous hips. "Of course, I could also be disappointed about the fact that I just spent a couple hours at Cartier's with a scrumptious young man who just happens to have a fairly large bankroll and all I've got to show for it is a couple of bruises and a morning appointment with Commissioner Gordon."

Dick gave his former rival and current confidante a rather hangdog grin as he ran one of his hands through his already wild hair. "Sorry about that. And thanks for helping settle up the report with Jim. It saved me from answering a whole lot of questions."

"No problem at all," Selina replied after letting out a huff far too haughty to be genuine. "Nothing I like more than an early morning cup of coffee with Gotham's most prominent fuddy duddy."

"Well, at least you didn't steal anything from the vault while we were there," Dick countered. "That's a step in the right direction."

A mildly annoyed hiss slipped from Selina's lips. "I probably would have been better off if I had," she said rather ruefully. "At least I could turn a profit back when I was taking things rather than turning them back in."

The former acrobat shook his head as his communicator began to buzz in his ear. Being fairly certain about just who was on the other end of the line, he moved to answer it quickly.

"Talk to me, C.C."

Noah, in return, was just as hasty to respond. "My apologies, Nightwing. I just wanted to inform you of the team's activities while you were out behaving irresponsibly. There has been a bit of discovery pertaining to The Silver Coyote's activities and Batman is leading a team to investigate. Because of this, you, in turn, have been placed in charge of our Gotham squad and Batman and I both agree that it would be wise if you returned to base as quickly as possible."

Dick felt his formerly simmering frustrations once again rising to a boil. "And exactly _why_ wasn't I made aware of this sooner?"

"Well, you made it rather clear to me that you would have rather been off chasing down unorganized jewel thieves," the hacker smartly replied.

"He's got you there," Selina pointed out.

Dick could almost feel Noah cleaning his glasses during the brief moment of silence before The Calculator spoke again. "Miss Kyle, you are also invited to join us here at the manor. The Batman also feels that, what with the escalating number of adversaries that could quickly step upon our literal doorsteps, it would be wise if we kept close to one another."

The raven-haired former cat burglar looked rather intrigued as she rubbed her exquisitely manicured left thumb against her chin. "Well, thank you for the kindly offer," she said with a throaty purr, "but I'm not one to be forced out of my own home. Still, please thank that studly boss of yours for. . ."

"INCOMING SIGNATURES!" The Calculator bellowed over Catwoman's sultry retort. "NIGHTWING! THEY'RE TELEPORTING RIGHT ON TOP OF YOU!!"

As jarring as the bespectacled man's commotion had been to his senses, the sight of the black garbed figured leaping through Selina's open skylight was even less assuring. The first small wave of fighters were attacking them within seconds of Noah's warning, with two of them coming after him while the other one made a beeline for Selina. Twisting around a near skewering from his opponent's kodachi, Nightwing moved quickly to slam his knee into the abdomen of his other attacker before snatching the small dagger and using the hilt to knock the weapon's former owner unconscious.

Nightwing used the few spare moments he had to turn to check on Selina. Judging from the claw marks and the rather pathetic state of the coffee table that the cloaked man had apparently crashed through, it appeared that she had managed to deal with her adversary with equal efficiency.

"Hey, short shorts!" Selina shouted while also taking in the sight of more and more hooded foes swooping down into her once stately domicile. "Are these guys who I think they are?"

"Depends on who you think they are!" Dick shouted back as he yanked his escrima sticks free from their usual restraints before placing them at the ready. "Oh, and if you think that they are members of The League of Assassins, then you're right!"

* * *

The journey down into the lower recesses of the former oil refinery had, thus far, been just as quiet and uneventful as the exploration of the upper floors. J'onn was now in the front of the formation, his extraordinary senses scanning for any sign of unusual activity. Knockout, the team's second most impressive physical specimen, is at the rear, her muscular frame tense and ready for anything.

"I am sensing a significant array of latent telepathic activity," The Martian Manhunter calmly informed his compatriots. "Someone has been here recently."

"I agree with the green one," Knockout offered with a dangerous smile on her face. Upon drawing Cecilia and Scandal's attention she added, "the scent of the blood and sweat of our adversaries still hangs high in the air."

"And here I thought that was just Catman's aftershave," Arrowette replied with a hint of disgust.

"Are the Watchtower's teleporters at the ready, J'onn?" asked Batman.

J'onn gave his longtime friend a barely perceptible nod. "Jefferson Pierce is currently on monitor duty and I have given him the authority to lock onto The Calculator's trace signals and teleport the lot of us out should he receive a signal from either you or I."

"Can't say I really like the idea of getting shuffled out of danger and right into Justice League headquarters," Catman confessed as he slowly shifted his eyes from right to left. "Something tells me that they won't take too kindly to our presence."

"Bah," Knockout almost spat. "I care not for the opinions of such vainglorious fools. If they are offended by our presence then I will simply bludgeon them until they no longer are capable of such thoughts."

"I sincerely doubt that will be necessary, Miss Reynolds," J'onn pointed out in a surprisingly calm manner. "As a matter of fact. . ."

The argument that the founding member of The Justice League was about to bring to the table was suddenly cut off by an almost soundless rustling followed by the hiss of a White Martian barreling straight for the six of them. Being the only one quick enough to respond in time, J'onn cut off a dangerous blast of Martian vision with the aid of a telekinetic force shield before responding in kind. The fanged monster rendered itself intangible in order to avoid the return shot, a critical mistake that J'onn had been hoping that his fellow Martian would make. After all, if anyone was able to break through that particular defensive maneuver, it would be the warrior that had all but perfected the trick.

The White Martian howled as the blast from J'onn's eyes pierced its nearly insubstantial molecular structure and sent him plummeting to the ground. As The Martian Manhunter moved to put a quick end to the potential threat, he found himself quite surprised when he was beaten to the punch as a green-feathered arrow whizzed by the left side of his head and sunk into the torso of his already aggrieved adversary. The phosphorous compound embedded within the tip of Cecilia's arrow reacted violently with the Martian's blood chemistry and quickly set his body ablaze, soaking the once silent basement in strangled screams.

Knockout was the next to contribute, her muscular legs allowing her to easily bridge the gap between her and her prey. Pulling her blade out from the scabbard strapped to her back, she ignored the heat of the chemically created flames and eagerly plunged the sharp metal through the back of the Martian's neck. A sharp yank of the hilt and a spurt of blood then left the former Fury with another trophy to hang behind the one she had been so pleased to collect back in Philadelphia.

"This does not have the same quality as Lloyd's blade," Knockout observed as she examined one of Deathstroke's blades that she had shamelessly pilfered from The Batman's trophy room, "but it will do quite nicely."

"Well, you ladies aren't exactly the most impressive specimens I've ever seen either."

Track lighting erupted with light as a dozen White Martians slid upon the hanging rafters above the suddenly surrounded heroes, the combined telepathic abilities of the foul beasts more than enough to cloak their presence until the time was right. Meanwhile, looking quite resplendent in his petite Armani suit, the owner of the factory looked down and gave the aforementioned ladies his most lascivious and predatory smile.

"But you'll do," assured Doctor Psycho. "You'll do quite nicely."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

SURPRISE!!

Well, look who came out with an issue a little earlier than expected! Don't expect too much of the same in the future though. I had a week off before I started my new job on Monday and, like any sane person would, I decided to use that spare time to write another issue for my dozens and dozens of fans (pauses to accept the imaginary applause). Expect me to get back on the standard biweekly updates starting with the next issue.

As always, thanks to everybody who keeps on reading and reviewing. I've begun to notice that this biggest complaint for this story is it's length, which is probably the best negative feedback I could have ever possibly asked for. Speaking of which, I know that things may seem kind of slow action-wise right now but, trust me, business is about to pick up. After all, this is a 12-part arc and this here is just part 4. You gotta set the table, baby!

Speaking of which, here's an issue preview!

* * *

Issue #64 Preview

Well, like any good play, the players know their lines, see their intentions, and now begin to shapen to start. Granted, this isn't exactly a play (nor is it necessarily good), but something tells me that something big is shaping up on the horizon. White Martians, Doctor Psycho, The League of Assassins, and The Sinestro Corps all step up to the plate in the 64th installment of The Misfits: Finding Your Place. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	64. Finding Your Place

Issue #64

Finding Your Place

Glancing up at the empty, bloodthirsty expressions on the faces of his spellbound brethren, the hero and detective known as The Martian Manhunter was provided with another cruel reminder of what would be the legacy of his people. Though the fact that he had missed the final chapter of the war between the Green and White Martians had been one of the greatest of his many regrets, J'onn had long since developed the self-awareness to recognize that his legacy would be forever tied to these dark machinations of forced evolution. In fact, he knew that the monsters floating above him would, in the eyes of the Earthlings he had helped protect for the last quarter of a century, would likely be far more remembered for their exploits that he ever would be for his own. After all, most cultures are conditioned to remind themselves of life's atrocities before they regard life's good intentions.

As he turned his sights upon Edgar Cizko, J'onn silently thanked Amanda Waller once again for her part in creating and providing the telepathic implants that protected Bruce and his other companions. Noting the dangerous smile on the face of the diminutive telepath, J'onn knew enough of Doctor Psycho's reputation to recognize that the psychopath relied strictly upon the prodigious strengths of his mind. Because of this, the neurological interference provided by Checkmate's implants would, presumably, remove Cizko has a threat. That, along with the sound of Catman and Scandal preparing their modified PN-90 flame launchers, proved to be quite reassuring within the otherwise dismal matter at hand.

"Well, look at all the wonderful phallic-shaped weaponry!" Cizko mischievously exclaimed, his reaction to the weaponry decidedly different than that of the Justice League founder. "Why it's like pulling a panty raid on Themyscira all over again!"

"I don't suppose you're here just to tour the facility, Psycho?" Scandal asked with a significant scowl upon her exquisite countenance.

"Tut, tut. First of all, that's _Doctor _Psycho, my delectable little tart. I didn't go to evil school for five years just for the fancy degree, after all. Secondly, the lot of you broke into a place that I own, which means I'm the one who's legally obligated to ask the questions."

"Property rights do not apply to those who acquire said estates with illegally scavenged funds," J'onn countered.

Cizko shrugged his shoulders at the clever reply. "Ah well. It's not like I don't already know why you're here anyway."

Scandal pointed her Lamentation Blades straight at her foe. "What more do you plan on doing with the Mensobous Luminitas?"

Doctor Psycho gave off a heavy sigh as he wrapped the fingers on his left hand around the bridge of his forehead. "Come on, my pretty. You don't really expect me to just go and give away the big master plan just because my wacky alien buddies are about to kill ya, do you? Who do you think I am? The Joker?!"

"No, The Joker at least has some sense of comedic timing," Arrowette replied. "Still I bet a couple of these steel tip arrows shot straight into your funny bone might lighten things up."

Cizko kept his eyes on the arrows set to the archer's string while he lewdly brushed his tongue against his upper lip, his hands running through the incurably wild locks on the top of his head. "Y'know, normally I'm not a big fan of unwanted visitors, especially since I don't have any soy sauce to go with the still beating heart of Mister Blake over there. That being said, it'd be a damn shame if I didn't put my sources of entertainment into some good use," he admitted as he gestured to his battalion of marauding monsters. "So I believe I will take my leave now. Ladies, if you do survive the experience then feel free to leave your phone numbers and measurements at the front desk.

Smoothly backpedaling away from the soon-to-be battlefield in the spats he custom ordered from the finest private cobbler in Milan, Cizko sent a telepathic command to his enthralled soldiers telling them to leap into the fray. Arrowette's attempt to put an unnecessary aperture in his brainpan harmlessly bounced off one of the White Martians' telekinetic shields while Knockout's battle cry rang up to the high walls.

"Y'know, I may be speaking out of turn here," Arrowette hastily accepted while making an equally quick grab for the remaining phosphorous arrows within her quiver, "but maybe it would be wise if we just got the hell out of here!"

"Why in the name of The Highfather would we want to do that?!" Knockout asked with equal parts noise and incredulousness as she thrust one of her blades through the heart of the Martian in front of her. "It has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to wage a war as grand as this!"

Arrowette muffled a fine selection of profane words as her target easily phased through her second shot. "Yeah, well I've had plenty of opportunities to bite on to more than I can chew," she countered as a timely blast from Scandal's flamethrower staved off the Martian she had just missed hitting. "And quite frankly, I don't feel too comfortable with trying it again so soon."

"Stay close to Thomas and myself, little one," Scandal calmly instructed the fair-haired archer, a hint of halogen light causing a tiny glint to shine off the tips of her Lamentation Blades. "J'onn and Kay should be enough to hold off the frontal assault while we work at picking them off from a distance."

Cecilia couldn't help but be surprised at the remark despite all the activity around her. "You know, you seem remarkably calm under these shitty-ass circumstances."

Scandal responded to Arrowette's untimely gesture with one of her own.

"Appearances can be deceiving, little one."

* * *

_Oa – Green Lantern Corps Headquarters Common Area_

The Flash had always suspected, thanks to evidence acquired from several past interactions with one Richard Grayson, that the people who worked closely with The Batman tended to keep to themselves. That suspicion had been confirmed on many an occasion over the course of the last several weeks. On top of that, the effect appeared to be contagious since now, he too, found himself compelled to sit next to Lloyd and the girls while the minutes wiled away.

Dozens of Green Lanterns surrounded him within the large, lobby-like room, many of them doubtlessly waging war with the fear that would threaten to rob them of their power should they have chosen to take it on while they were on the battlefield. And although he was usually quite comfortable with making small talk with other heroes and crime fighters, Wally couldn't help but keep himself close to his newfound comrades, who, just like he seemed to be unconsciously doing, made similar efforts in avoiding contact with their future compatriots. Still, despite this newfound shyness, he did manage to work up the energy to give a friendly wave to John and Kilowog as they passed by several minutes ago and even put forth an unintentionally shy smile when Soranik Natu gave him a rather flirtatious wink. Most of his faculties, however, were devoted to simply responding to whatever Stephanie Brown had to say.

And, just as Kara and Lloyd had warned him, there turned out to be a lot of things that Stephanie wanted to say.

"Boy, it's been a long time since I've fought in space! What's it been. . . about eight months now? I know it was during that whole thing with Darkseid's parademons but I can't remember when that was. Hmmmm. . . I remember Alfie putting up the Christmas lights when we got back and he yelled at me for stealing some of the cookies from the kitchen. Well, he didn't really yell at me 'cause that's not really Alfie's style. It was more like that really British droning stuff he does when he talks to me like he can't believe I'm actually doing whatever it is he caught me doing."

The energetic, blond-haired Gothamite suddenly scrunched up her little face with so much intensity that it nearly caused her pale, blue eyes to cross. "Honestly, Miss Stephanie," she continued in a nasally twang that, if you could actually squint your ears, may have been considered to be an impersonation of the caretaker of Wayne Manor, "I would have hoped that you would have grown to recognize the importance of adhering to the values of others."

"Steph."

"Yeah?" Stephanie asked Lloyd as she swiftly reentered the real world.

The Black Dog let out a well-practiced groan before slowly shaking his head. "I know ya like to get all bloody chatterbox before a big scrap but, just this once, could ya at least attempt to tone it down a peg? Ya makin' me wanna muzzle ya."

Robin let out a half-playful scowl. "Come on, puppy. You know I need somebody to talk to before I can get into something big and this is BIG!! Like, pre-raid on The Death Star big."

Lloyd kept his even glare straight on the eyes of his little sister. Recognizing what the look meant, the Green Lantern wisely let down her cheery shield.

"I'm not gonna be able to keep everybody safe this time. . ."

Kara and Wally both gave Stephanie a kindly smile, with The Flash punctuating his sympathy by gently rubbing Stephanie's shoulders. "Buck up, little camper," Wally said in a tone that seemed almost weightless in its delivery. "We all know how to take care of ourselves. These Green Lanterns do too and they wouldn't be here if they couldn't."

"Still," Lloyd relented. "Ya gotta admit that this is a damn sight heavier than our normal fare. We're gonna have to all be at our A-game if we even want to have a shot at comin' home alive." His suddenly soft eyes were on Kara as he said this, although the young woman didn't seem to notice it.

"Gee, boss. You're really a born motivator," Wally said dully while giving The Black Dog an eye roll. "A regular George S. Custer."

"Bugger you," Lloyd snapped, his voice carrying just over Kara and Stephanie's giggling.

Wally, as was his way, took the profane retort in stride. "Just offering some fair and even feedback, mi jefẽ. And besides, if it makes you guys feel better, I've never been all too comfortable with these kinds of situations either."

"Your super speed leave you boxed in?" Kara asked, venturing a guess.

The Flash casually shook his head. "It's not really that. It's more like when there are a whole lot of people around, the more it seems like everybody is in slow motion. . ."

"Ooh! And you just wish they could move as fast as you could!" Kara suddenly interjected, her response causing Wally to point a finger at her in order to showcase their mutual understanding. "And I thought I was the only one who had to deal with that!" she shouted as she gave Lloyd a good-natured slug to the shoulder. "He's always telling me that he's never bothered by it!"

Lloyd resisted the urge to rub his leg against Kara's while he calmly shrugged his shoulders. "'S just never been a big deal ta me. Honestly, I think it's just one of those mind over matter things."

"You know, Wally," Stephanie said softly. "If you're really feeling worried about it. . . I can just kick your ass. That way you can stay unconscious until the mission begins. I can even carry you to your station if you need me to."

"I think I can handle the strain," Wally firmly replied.

"Ya sure?" Robin asked again, eager to always lend her friends a helping hand (or foot as the case may have been).

"Positive."

Stephanie smirked. "H.I.V? _YOWCH_!" she yelped as Lloyd rewarded her wit with a telepathic _thwack _to the back of her head.

"Don't see why ya wantin' to lend him a hand so bloody bad," Lloyd told his friend with a predatory smirk. "I gave 'im the easiest job out of the lot as far as I'm concerned."

"Still sounded pretty dangerous to me," Stephanie quickly fired back. "Dropping him down on a planet full of Manhunters and talking bears." The young woman paused while tilting her head to one side. "Are you sure that I can't go instead? 'Cause I really want to see the talking bears."

Lloyd rolled his eyes, as was often the case when dealing with Miss Brown. "Do your part of the plan an' you'll still probably get to meet the talkin' bears in a few days or so. Patience reaps rewards, young Tweety."

"Well, all joking aside," The Flash interposed, his bright green eyes showing a clear hint of concern, "you kids be careful, all right? The three of you are putting a lot on your shoulders."

"The burdens are nothing we haven't handled before," Lloyd firmly replied. "Just be sure you and your blokes do the same. Lian and ya old lady'd probably use me dangly bits for cufflinks if I don't bring you back in the same condition as I took you."

"Speaking of which. . ." Wally said as he cast his eyes over the clusters of intergalactic warriors. "Has anyone seen Roy Boy recently?"

"No worries, speedster," Lloyd replied with a bemusedly crooked smile on his lips. "I can smell 'im from here,"

"Along with an added bonus," Kara added with an equally rascally grin.

The Flash eventually followed the eyes of his friends and caught sight of Roy. He regretted the effort almost instantly when he saw the careless smile on Arsenal's face, an expression no doubt brought to life with the assistance of the contents within the bottles his friend cradled within his weathered hands. Having no other limbs to hold his ever-present revolver, Harper kept the firearm trapped within his teeth, his incisors digging into the grip of the gun as he sauntered forward to join his comrades.

"Ladies and gentlemen, feel free to take solace in the comforts that only Rann's finest alcoholic beverages can provide," Arsenal cried in a rather grandiose manner before slowly handing the bottle in his left hand over to Lloyd.

The Black Dog kept one eye on Roy as he moved to investigate the kindly offering first by smell and then by sight. Then, having professionally weighed the potential benefits and consequences, he chose to bring the bottle to his lips and take a heavy pull.

"You know, I probably should have known better," Wally began while Lloyd kept guzzling, "but I would have thought that even you wouldn't be able to find the time to do some pointless pilfering."

Arsenal let out an undignified huff. "Come on, Wall-eye. There's _always _time for pointless pilfering. Of course, the shit I've managed to get a hold of is quite a long ways from worthless."

"'M inclined to agree," said Lloyd after wiping his lips. Letting out a breath of satisfaction, he raised the decanter over his head. "Here's for safety in our future endeavors," he added before handing the bottle over to Kara.

"To having the strength to travel the road ahead," Kara threw in, taking a sip before passing it on to Wally.

Wally pondered the gift before him, briefly wondering what Linda would be saying right now. Deciding that there was plenty of time to earn back some good karma, he took a drink as well. "To the health of our friends and loved ones: old and new."

"Hear, hear," Stephanie exclaimed before snatching the flask from The Fastest Man Alive and taking the heaviest drink out of the four. "And here's to the hope that, once this is all over, Kara and Lloyd will finally just go ahead and jump each other's bones."

Roy didn't even bother to hold in his laughter as he reclaimed his spoils from the giggling Stephanie. Lloyd, on the other hand, gave the Earth's youngest active Green Lantern an infuriated glare while Kara busied herself with hiding the warm blush that had rushed to her cheeks. While all this unrestrained emotion took place, two decidedly more reserved gentlemen made their way towards the scene.

"I hardly believe that your superior would consider this to be proper behavior," Victor Fries firmly informed his younger collaborators.

Stephanie took some major effort into wrinkling her nose before showing her friends her achievement. "I didn't know we ordered a replacement Alfred. Why didn't anybody tell me about this?"

"We think it wise to keep ya in the dark," Lloyd replied as he slowly rose to his feet. "The less the comic relief knows, the less likely it is that she'll bugger everythin' up in the end."

While Stephanie busied herself with flipping the bird to her boss, Hal Jordan went straight to the point. "The preparations for the Karbarra team are nearly complete. We're going to need to get Roy and Wally to their stations in order to begin the formation exercises."

"Fine by me," Arsenal answered as he swerved over toward the relative direction of the hangar. "Hey, Hallie! Do the Green Lantern Corps support drinking on the job?"

Hal replied by snatching the bottle from Roy's right hand. Keeping a firm, steady look on the man he had known for 15 years, the Green Lantern put his fearlessness to good use as he took a heavy swig of his own.

"Afraid not."

* * *

_Gotham - The East End_

Perhaps it simply had something to do with her self-concocted feline instincts but Selina had never been a fan of unwanted visitors. Cats, after all, are rather keen on maintaining control of their own surroundings. She knew that this particular desire had a great deal to do not only with why she originally chose to become a criminal but also why she had been so drawn to Bruce, a man who had valued control even more than she did. Like a ball of string that was nigh impossible to break apart, Bruce Wayne, with all of his repression and determination and prudishness and bizarre charm, was a mystery that she would most likely always be happy to poke and prod.

Not to mention she couldn't help but wonder how Brucie would have reacted to that particular choice of words.

Unfortunately, and much to her frustration, the matters at hand were not about her. This was, in fact, about the cavalcade of masked twits that suddenly decided to try and kill her and the handsome man who had joined her in taking them on.

She is one of the few people who have had the opportunity to watch the growth of Richard Grayson over the course of the past two decades. She had watched him grow from a boy armed with little more than short shorts and a seemingly endless supply of horrid puns to a man who had tried, failed, succeeded, and was still hard at work in the task of getting himself out of his father's voluminous shadow. She had to admit that it was a rather entertaining transformation to witness, despite the fact that she was well aware that she hadn't been present for many of the good parts.

Come to think of it, the jury was still out on whether or not she wanted to participate in this particular part either.

"The estimated time of arrival for reinforcements is less than two minutes," Noah told Nightwing with a definite tinge of panic in his normally reserved tone. "There must be some other way that we can get someone there quicker!"

Nightwing may have, if he had the time to do so, simply told the hacker to calm down. However, he was a mite occupied with twisting his legs out of a 540 front somersault in order to launch a double-footed thrust kick that caught his target squarely on the upside of the man's chin. Briefly using his falling foe's shoulders as a ballast, he employed the available momentum in order to launch himself into an airborne backwards tumble that put him in perfect position, once he got back to his normal center of gravity, to slam his right heel into the kneecap of the assassin behind him before laying another one out with a stiff right cross. Then, using the escrima stick in his left hand to parry the strikes of two more aggressors, he employed a Shotokan style high kick to knock the one on his left silly before slamming his busy foot into the side of the head of the assassin on the right. A quick sweeping takedown then took the hired gun down to his knees before a shot with the escrima stick sent him down on his ass.

"Contact The Watchtower with an independent line so that it'll be able to sift through Oracle's tracers," Dick told Noah without missing a beat as he inched his way over towards Selina. "Tell Black Lightning that 'Chuck flies on the south side of Chicago'. From there he'll contact The Outsiders and we can get Geo-Force here in about five minutes." Dick took a moment to duck under a swing of Selina's whip, smiling as he heard the scream of Selina's target as the tail of the weapon brutally slapped into his face, and then rolled under the legs of another hired gun before using a Wushu-style sweep kick that caved in the patellas of his unfortunate victim. "Until then, just focus on keeping the GCPD away from here so we can avoid any unnecessary casualties."

The state of the close-quarters combat had finally persuaded Catwoman to abandon her whip in favor of her claws by the time Nightwing had finally gotten close to her. Though she had managed to tear some bloody chunks out of her unwanted visitors, Selina, like Dick, had taken a fair share of scrapes and bruises of her own. Several half-inch cuts lined the left side of her face just underneath her goggles and there was a significant pool of blood running around her left oblique, the result of a slash from a katana that missed puncturing her lung by about three inches. Marveling that Selina was still managing to move around as well as she was, Dick knew that the wound would doubtlessly require medical attention if they did, in fact, come out of this alive.

"You know, I'm usually not the one to be the mood breaker," Selina yelled over the riotous din as the League of Assassin members surrounded the both of them like angry hornets, "but I really don't see any possible way that we can win this."

"It's not our job to win this fight," Nightwing replied while hastily yanking his other escrima stick out from its holster. "All we've got to do is to stay alive until the people that can win this show up."

"Emphasize on staying alive, huh? I think I can manage that," Selina mumbled as she used her right heel to break the shin of one particular troublesome opponent. A brief, and possibly inaccurate head count caused the sultry vigilante to estimate that there were a good 40 active opponents to go along with the two dozen or so that had already been temporarily taken out of the picture. The close confines of the battlefield, something that Selina had actually planned to do something about with the experienced help of one of the finest interior decorators on the East End, was perhaps the biggest reason why she and Dick were still alive and, well, kicking. Still, as a tiny part of her busy mind pondered over just how in the hell she was going to explain this mess to said decorator, even more chaos was thrown upon the scene as additional pieces of fractured glass rained down onto the normally spotless wood flooring.

The mess merely served as a precursor for the arrival of three new figures upon the battlefield. Thankfully, these new guests were a bit more colorful. "Come one, come all!" came a joyous roar as twin Desert Eagles spat out round after round of lead that tore through any target it could find. "Deadshot's got a new game show and it's called 'Who Wants to be a Target?'!"

"God damnit, Lawton," Catwoman hissed as several more assassins fell to the floor while even more scurried for higher ground. "I don't need any more blood and guts on my carpet, thank you very much."

Deadshot didn't even lose hold of his stogie while he performed a side roll with his right shoulder while his left hand fired off a spray of shots that shattered the kneecaps of one of his many targets. "Feel free to bill my boss, pretty kitty. I'll have you know I've been given carte blanche to do just whatever the fuck I wanna do!"

Nightwing did his best to keep his ears away from the inane conversation and focused instead upon the other new combatants. The first one was armed with a butcher knife in his left hand and sported an Italian-model _katar _that was strapped to his scraggly right hand. The bladed weaponry, combined with his inhuman flexibility, would certainly allow Ragdoll to quickly switch between offense and defense. However, while the freak of nature known only as Merkel was mostly allowing his foes to come to him, Cassandra Cain rushed towards a large contingent of cloaked figures, a concentrated but furious growl on her tight face. Despite the fact that these members of the League of Assassins all had decades of training, the mercenaries seemed to unconsciously give the young woman a wide berth, as if they sensed that a true predator had broken into their hunt.

"Having fun?" Dick asked almost casually as Batgirl finished her quest to get to him.

Cass finished her acrobatic display by making an airborne stab at a nerve cluster of the assassin on Dick's right before sending her target down with a spinning back fist taken straight out of The Batman's playbook.

"Stephanie is right. You are very cute. . . but a lot of trouble," Cassandra said rather crossly.

Nightwing felt compelled to put forth the most self-assured smirk that he could muster under the busy circumstances. "I always considered myself to be charming in a 'niggling at your senses' kinda way."

Batgirl couldn't help but smile underneath her mask while the two of them worked to quickly clear the surrounding vicinity. "What do you want me to do?"

"Two options," Nightwing offered while using both of his short staffs to trap a katana-wielding warrior before using a push kick to the gut to relieve his opponent of both the weapon in his hands and the wind from his lungs. "Stay close to Selina or keep Deadshot from killing everybody."

"The first one," Cassandra replied as she dug into the nerve cluster within the leg of another opponent before sending the woman down to the carpet with a solid left hook. "And it is good to have you back."

"Yeah, yeah," Nightwing acknowledged as he vaulted over the head of two other opponents as he made his way to Floyd Lawton.

* * *

_The Batcave_

Noah let out a significant sigh of relief when the sight of Cassandra Cain popped up on the camera installed within Nightwing's battle armor. Part of him, of course, had merely been disturbed with the possibility of what Bruce would have done if things in Gotham had turned out as bad as he had feared. However, and as unprofessional as it was, The Calculator had to admit that he'd have been quite perturbed if something had happened to Dick or Selina. Lloyd had told him before that this worry, this _fear_, was both the best and the worst part about the job and, upon experiencing it once again, the hacker found that he couldn't help but agree.

_But enough of that_, Noah ultimately resolved. The Misfits' resident computer wonk was well aware of the fact that there was work to be done and, as it stood, he was the only one who could do it. It was a simple matter for him to link his core communications equipment with one of the half-dozen satellite networks that had been established after Barbara Gordon had left for Metropolis. Even less time was needed to triangulate the signal in a manner that would allow it to stream through Oracle's security network and make contact with The Watchtower, where the hero known as Black Lightning would doubtlessly be waiting.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"That will not be necessary, Mister Kuttler."

* * *

As the standing second-in-command of The Big Whale, Wally West wondered, as the flames of war blazed around him, if he had the authority to tell the Green Lanterns around him to prepare for entering the transmat portal.

_After all, Riker told Data and Worf to fire the photon torpedoes every now and again, even when Picard was on the bridge. Huh,_ _I wonder if Linda would like it if I grew a beard. Then again, the additional weight might create some drag friction when I hit light speed and I really don't need to be worrying about setting myself on fire when. . ._

"Continue to concentrate fire upon the Sinestro Corps members at the front of the ship," Victor Fries sternly ordered. "The transmat portal to Karbarra should be opening ahead of us shortly and we must continue to clear a path both for ourselves as well as the rest of the convoy."

The Flash snapped himself out of his self-induced stupor as the battle between the two Corps raged on within the black space outside of the ship. The two great armies, forces a combined 12,000 strong, began to clash all but two minutes ago but the power of both sides was quick to produce a great many casualties. In fact, the sheer number of combatants had quickly persuaded Wally to choose to avoid using his kinetic manipulation abilities for fear of endangering the Green Lanterns assigned to protect them on their way to Karbarra. Though it had been understandably difficult to try and make out any familiar faces within the havoc on the battlefield, Wally did manage to catch frequent sights of one Green Lantern in particular.

Barry had frequently told him that it was nothing short of a miracle, considering the man's frequent daredevil theatrics, that Hal Jordan hadn't been killed at least a dozen times over. However, the sight of the longtime Green Lantern outwitting, outmaneuvering, and altogether overpowering one Sinestro Corps member after the other was a clear sign that the former stunt pilot's continuing survival was something that could be attributed to more than just dumb luck. Although the red-headed young father often frequently claimed that his friend Kyle had been the superior hero, Wally couldn't help but think, as Jordan effortlessly employed his will power to manipulate the power within his ring, that there was simply no way that Kyle could have handled the burden that the Green Lantern Corps general had chosen to put upon his shoulders.

A blinding flash of white light irritated Wally's eyes as the enormous portal opened up a mere several thousands yards away from the titanic spacecraft. Though The Big Whale continued to rumble every now and again as yellow blasts of energy peppered the ship's energy shields, the protection provided by the Green Lanterns had limited the amount of damage done to nothing that couldn't be repaired by the ship itself. Still, despite the relative safety of the situation, the anticipation of what was to come began to gnaw at his insides as they moved closer to their destination, the heat of the emotion cooled only slightly when Stephanie zoomed in front of the bridge and gave those inside a cheery wave. The playful smirk on the young Green Lantern's face seemed to shift over to Wally's as the molecules of The Scarlet Speedster began to shift and grow intangible as he and the others within The Big Whale moved through a pocket of space at a velocity many times faster than the speed of light.

As Wally had guessed, the scene that he was treated to after leaving the portal was no less imposing than the one before. The Green Lantern Corps members in front of them had lessened significantly, many of them inevitably left behind to deal with the powerful force threatening to overtake Oa. Meanwhile, it seemed as if the yellow and black blurs that had antagonized them before would soon be replaced by streaks of purple and blue as The Manhunters swarmed toward them, the cybernetic organisms clearly assigned to keep them from landing upon the newly-turned prisoner planet.

"The Manhunters are approaching," hissed out Isamot Kol, humanoid lizard and ordained Green Lantern for the Rann system. "They number over 3,000 sssstrong."

"The ship's sensors are also detecting additional unfamiliar energy signatures," Mister Freeze said in return, his usually remote tone of voice efficiently hiding any concern the cryogeneticist may have felt. "Do we have any information upon them?"

"Qwardian mercenaries," replied Soranik Natu with a hateful grumble. "Nothing but bloodsucking vultures who allied themselves with that despot instead of fighting for the freedom of our people."

"Are they a threat?" Fries hastily interrupted, eager to avoid any unnecessary philosophical diatribes.

"Don't think they've got anything that can bust through those shields of yours," Gardner replied. "In fact, as far as I'm concerned, they're just more targets for me to bust up!"

That was all the hot-headed warrior had to say before he barreled ahead of the main formation. Kilowog, Vath Sarn, and dozens of other Lanterns quickly followed suit, many of them eager to do battle with those who had nearly succeeded in wiping them from existence a mere 22 hours ago. The black space around Karbarra once again began to fill with light as the latest dance with death began again, the Reaper's busy hooks quick to reign in unfortunate Lanterns and Qwardians alike.

"Just stick close to the convoy," Hal Jordan quickly instructed from the front of the defensive line. "We'll make sure that we get you down there safely."

Wally firmly shook his head back and forth. "Sorry, Hal. I'm not willing to just sit on the sidelines and put you more in harm's way than you already are." He stretched his right arm forward, his fingers pointing toward the Justice League founder.

"What are you talking about?" Hal asked through the comm. link.

"Been wanting to let this go since we got here," Wally said through gritted teeth, his mind and body wrapped with concentration toward the task at hand. "Just consider this. . . to be a gift from The Manhunters."

Hal let out a gasp as his body took in an enormous amount of kinetic energy, power no doubt stolen from Sinestro's cybernetic assistants. As his mind and muscles began to hum with almost impossible vigor, the longtime Green Lantern tried to think back and remember if Barry had ever pulled off such a feat. Not being able to do so, Hal formed a fist with his right hand, his ring at the forefront, as he prepared to take on the contingent of Manhunters and mercenaries that had broken from the main formation and made their way towards the convoy.

_Once more unto the breach_. _'Tis a naughty night to swim in_.

* * *

"I must say that this is rather distressing," Ragdoll pointed out as Cassandra's concentrated offensive gave him the time to pop his right shoulder back into its socket. "The blood spilling upon this lush carpeting, mine own included, will surely blight such an exquisite work of weaving."

No matter how much she found herself agreeing with the statement, Selina also couldn't help but notice that she was far too woozy to properly respond to her newfound partner's observations. In fact, her lagging faculties were now mostly put to the task of keeping herself standing, a feat that seemed to be growing more difficult with each passing moment. The blood leaking from her gut had started to visibly drip from her cat suit and the wound's close vicinity to her lung had made it significantly difficult to breathe. She had lost count of the number of times Cassandra had pulled her tail out of the fire in the last minute or so and positively hated the idea that she would also have to owe her life to that posh freak Merkel.

"On the other hand," Ragdoll backpedaled while he reveled in the screams of his victim as he lashed the blades of his _katar_ across the woman's face, "this event has given me the opportunity to cause some exquisite harm to a group of truly detestable individuals. Honestly, some people should simply not go overboard with the all-black attire."

"I'm with you on that, freak show," Deadshot yelled back while pistol whipping the bastard who managed to slice off the simmering end of his cigar. The appearance of more and more opponents had left gunplay all but impossible for the marksman, thus leaving Lawton with the greatly uncomfortable task of resorting to hand-to-hand combat.

"Tell me something, Sir Lawton," Ragdoll requested through his cracked mask. "Did you ever believe that your life's journey would lead you down such an unlikely avenue?"

"HAH! Can't say as I did!" Lawton answered, his hearty exclamation punctuated by a grunt of exertion caused by kicking one of his fellow assassins in the balls. "Still, I've never been one to complain about a job that pays me to put bullets in brainpans without getting sent to jail for it."

Nightwing shook his head in order to display his significant exasperation as Deadshot once again exploited that particular perk of his profession. "I've got to admit, Deadshot. Right now I'm glad that you're on my relative side."

Deadshot gave Dick a nasty little smirk while the former acrobat bought him the time to reload. "Glad you came on to my side of thinkin' too, Boy Blunder. You always were a tricky little bastard to hit."

A combination of gunfire from Deadshot and energetic punches and kicks from Nightwing enabled the two combat veterans to make their way back to Cassandra and Selina. While the younger woman still remained hale and hearty enough to defend her significantly aggrieved colleague, a number of rips and tears in Batgirl's body armor had shown that she had taken her fair share of hits while doing so. Catwoman, on the other hand, let out another angry hiss through gnashed teeth, her phenomenal stubbornness and strength of will allowing her to stand while nearly anyone else would have long since keeled over.

"They're comin' in here faster than we can get rid of 'em," Deadshot angrily informed Nightwing as they both caught sight of more and more League of Assassins members plunging through the apertures at the top and the sides of the loft. "Not to mention that I just loaded in my last clip!"

"Just keep holding them off!" Dick ordered to his ragtag crew, the exclamation sounding more like a mantra. "More help is on the way."

"Well, I suppose that is one way to look at the matters at hand," Ragdoll replied in a dubious manner, his scraggly face tilted towards Selina's front door. "I would have personally gone with something more along the lines of 'we are professionally screwed'."

Dick twisted his head to the right to catch the sight of even more League of Assassin members flooding onto the battlefield. As he grinded his own molars in frustration, he couldn't help but notice that these new foes were garbed in red rather than midnight-black. This observation was quickly followed up by the revelation that this new presence seemed to be gunning for their fellow assassins rather than he and his nigh exhausted comrades. Eager to figure out just what the hell was going on, Dick quickly tapped back into his comm. link.

"C.C.! What the hell is going on here?"

Though the reply was quickly forthcoming, the source of the response was someone that Nightwing had only mildly suspected. The voice was a pitch or two higher than The Calculator's usual timbre, nearly just as proper and, though he would rather swallow razor blades than admit it, a great deal more alluring.

"I had forgotten what a lovely little grotto your father had at his disposal, Richard. Of course, that may just have been due to the fact that the handful of times I have managed to visit here since its reconstruction were distracted by some of the more. . . intriguing aspects of Wayne Manor."

Nightwing couldn't help but roll his eyes as his peripheral vision caught sight of a familiar, muscular presence. Tilting his head to catch the sight of Ubu, chief bodyguard of Talia Al-Ghul, easily disarming one of his enthralled former pupils, he vented his frustrations further by head butting the closest black-garbed figure he could find.

"There are simpler ways of incapacitating your foes, young detective," Talia informed him in an almost kindly manner.

It was official. Dick Grayson officially had a headache.

* * *

_The Big Whale – 7,000 kilometers from Karbarra's ionosphere_

"Y'know, what this whole thing reminds me of, Wall-eye?" Arsenal shouted over their shared communications line.

"What?" Wally asked impatiently, his attention far more focused upon the raging battle in front of him.

"Duck Hunt," Roy fired back from his vantage point of the gun batteries within _The Sentinel_, one of the Corps' sturdiest transport ships. "'Cept that damn dog isn't here to laugh at me when I miss."

"That's nice," Wally dimly replied.

"Enemy vessel approaching," announced a rookie member of the Corps who had been assigned to steer The Big Whale to Karbarra's surface. "Sensors indicate it to be a Qwardian battleship."

"On screen," Wally ordered shortly before letting out an involuntary snort of laughter which subsequently earned him an impatient glare from one Victor Fries. Still, as amusing as The Flash found the wording of his particular order, the sight of the gargantuan battle craft making their way towards them, its massive cannons already busy dealing death to Green Lanterns and Qwardian mercenaries alike, was nothing to laugh about. Although it was slightly smaller than The Big Whale, The Flash could just _feel _that it was a menace that they really didn't need to be dealing with at the time.

And whoever was in charge of that vessel was clearly aware of the fact.

"Incoming communication from the Qwardian battle craft," pronounced the ship's navigator.

"Patch it through," Fries ordered with nary a breath.

If the sight in front of them wasn't already imposing enough, the audiovisual image of Hank Henshaw at the center of the ship's bridge certainly sealed the deal. The Cyborg Superman's cybernetic eye gave off an angry crimson glow as he regarded the figures staring back at him. The Flash, recognizing the threat and malice behind the response, unconsciously began to circulate the kinetic energy through his body, a rejoinder that caused his body to become surrounded by yellow lightning that swirled around him from head to toe.

"Victor Fries and Wallace West, I presume," Henshaw greeted with a cold drawl. "Allow me to welcome you to Karbarra properly."

The surface of the red, brown, and blue planet suddenly erupted with white light that effortlessly streamed through the planet's ionosphere and went straight for the convoy. Though The Big Whale's proximity to Henshaw's craft left them well protected from the onslaught, many others were not as fortunate. Three of the procession's twenty ships were destroyed almost instantly, the intensity of the superhot plasma burning through their shielding with little trouble at all. Dozens of Manhunters, Green Lanterns, and Qwardian mercenaries also fell to the intensity of the blasts, the unforgiving hand of Death once again impartial to who it collected within this cold hell.

* * *

"GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKERS!!" Gardner silently bellowed into the cold space as his energy cocoon strained to shield him from the ambient heat of the cannon fire. The five Manhunters he had been battling, along with the two Corps members who were rushing to back him up, were not as fortunate. In fact, it had been nothing but a combination of instinct and luck that had allowed Guy to avoid further harm. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't damn ready to rocket down to the planet's surface and pay these bastards back for those who weren't as fortunate.

"Unit Eight Bravo," rang out the voice of one of Oa's guardians through the Corps communication link. "Convoy Section 4 reports massive damage and requests for assistance."

Guy felt his rage cooling as he unconsciously recalled the convoy formations in his head. _Convoy 4. . . headed by The Sentinel. . ._

_Harper._

Using another communication frequency to order his Lanterns to alter course, he uttered a short prayer for the safety of his comrades before pouring on the speed. Perhaps it was that entreaty, combined with his tendency to act before he thought, that forced Guy to pay for his hasty behavior when a blast of yellow energy collided with his shoulder and incinerated the skin on his right arm. The screams of the fair-haired man were silent in the blackness of space, of course, but the agonized expression was more than enough to cause a smile to form on the face of his attacker.

The exhilaration that exuded from the disfigured face of Yrra Cyrnil, the woman known throughout the cosmos as Fatality, served as a fine sign for what may very well be to come.

* * *

"You think we've got enough juice to take 'em?"

"I've managed to take a closer look at the inner schematics of The Big Whale during our time on Oa," Fries replied as the two mighty crafts seemed to stare each other down as if the ships themselves were waiting to see who would make the first move. "The defensive systems of this craft are truly quite extraordinary and should be more than enough to withstand anything that Henshaw has to throw at us."

Wally turned towards Fries' face, his upraised eyebrows hidden by his mask. "Y'know, a response like that can make a fella come to the conclusion that we're not going to be able to do much to them either."

The armored vigilante let out a frown, giving Wally all the answer he needed.

"And now I'm wishing, once again, that I could be doing something more." The Fastest Man Alive shook his head back and forth, the combination of the temporary respite upon the ship and the utter chaos around them proving to be phenomenally unsettling. "I mean, am I the only one that thinks we're going to lose a whole lot if we don't do start doing something?"

"We've lost another convoy ship," reported the ship's communications officer.

"Which one?" Fries asked, his eyes locked on the sight of Henshaw and his ship. Wally, on the other hand, turned towards the Green Lantern and caught the sympathy on the woman's face.

"It was _The Sentinel_, sir."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, that will do it for the fifth part of this little 12-part odyssey. As always, the chapter was a great deal longer than I originally figured but, hey, it's not like that's anybody's fault but my own. No. . . wait a second. . . I wouldn't be writing these long issues if I didn't want to make sure that I provided what my dozens and dozens of loyal fans deserve. How dare you rob me of my dwindling supply of spare time! The least you guys could do is give me a review or two to make up for it!

All right, I'm done whoring for feedback. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. I would offer some of my normally pithy insights about comics but, to be honest, I haven't had the time to get to the comic book store what with my new job and all. So, based on my past hypotheses, let me just say to pick up anything by Chuck Dixon, avoid anything by Judd Winick, and try to avoid buying _all _of the 100 _Secret Invasion _and _Final Crisis _tie-ins so you can save yourself a little bit of dosh.

And now with that friendly bit of vague advice taken care of, let's move on with the next issue preview!

* * *

Issue #65 Preview

Well, it seems like things in Gotham may be turning for the better! Of course, everything else seems to be turning to pooh-pooh. We've got Batman's group being waylaid by Doctor Psycho and his pet Martians, Guy's had his arm burned off and is now at Fatality's mercy (and the rest of the invasion force doesn't seem much better), the ship Roy was in just blew up. . . oh, and weren't there a couple thousand Yellow Lanterns getting ready to lay waste to Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie? Oh yeah, and don't start thinking that everything in Gotham is truly hunky dory either. Watch the chaos continue to unfold as we arrive at the halfway point of _Power Play _and the 65th installment of The Misfits: Pushing the Lines. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	65. Pushing the Lines

Issue #65

Issue #65

Pushing the Lines

The Black Dog may have not been much of an expert about the world of war documentaries. However, he did know enough about them to know that hundreds upon hundreds of these reports and recollections had been based upon, or at least have included, confessions from soldiers about what they were thinking while they dealt and witnessed death and injury.

It was almost too simple for him to swing his saber in an elaborate motion that allowed him to deflect a trio of yellow energy blasts headed straight for him. The reflective properties of the mystically empowered blade allowed Lloyd to send one of the energy arrows straight through the right eye socket of the Yellow Lantern who had fired the shot, hoisting the Sinestro Corps member off of his own figurative petard.

Although no dusty old fart or enthusiastic young graduate looking for a break had ever gone and asked him to describe his particular thoughts during times like these, Lloyd honestly believed that, had he been asked to do so, he could deliver quite the interesting account.

He used a solar flare to blind his two remaining opponents before moving to run his wickedly sharp blade through the gut of the one on his right, twisting the edge just right in order to pierce what he guessed to be the alien's right lung.

After all, he had engaged in dozens upon dozens of battles where kill or be killed had been the only rule of the game. In fact, he had stopped bothering to count the particular number of such confrontations shortly after he had ceased trying to tally up the number of lives he had snuffed out under the services of Mao Tenryu and, later and presently, Bruce Wayne.

The half-second he needed to complete that task was just long enough for the opponent on his left to recover and singe his shoulder with a panicky burst of golden energy.

He may as well have been a Rhodes scholar when it came to the psychological trappings that tended to crop up when it came to murder. For example, he was quite conscious of the well-trod theory that it was truly easier to kill another person once you've killed your first. That, in fact, had been a hypothesis he had managed to confront just before his 13th birthday and he found the theory to be, upon extensive experimentation, quite true for him. Shortly thereafter he also managed to learn how to separate the hero from the soldier and had grown to recognize that he had stopped being the former the moment he began to recognize the voice of the demon Lugae had placed within him.

Gritting his teeth in order to better overcome the pain, he temporarily muddled his foe's mind with a telepathic burst before severing the creature's neck tendons with his saber. The pea green blood came out of the creature's neck in globs of freezing fluid, the chill of space coagulating the usually soft-running liquid into its current bizarre state. Suddenly finding himself momentarily unencumbered, Lloyd turned his eyes and his thoughts to the woman who had made him start to think about whether his thoughts on who he happened to be was something that could or needed to be changed. He felt a flicker of fire rumbling from his chest, a place that usually ran cold in situations like these, as he took in the contrast between the shade of the cosmos and the luster of the hair that ran free from Kara's shoulders. His brain was quite quick to chastise him for the sentiment behind the rogue thoughts, his cognitive engines reminding him that there were far more important things to focus on.

He knew that Kara was too busy to respond, given that she was surrounded by no less than five Yellow Lanterns, each of which were busying themselves by attempting to punch their way through her slight but nearly impregnable frame one way or another. It was painful to remember that each of the alien creatures possessed a weapon that was almost an exact copy of the accessory that made Stephanie as powerful as she was. The reason for that, of course, was that five Stephanies were more than a match for one Kara Zor-el.

_You're underestimating her again_, the tactician in him was quick to remind his heart. _She __was strong before you an' Bruce started to work with her and she's even stronger now. _

Lloyd's heart was not about to give up without a fight. _But what if she gets hurt? After all, we both know that she gets unsure during times like this. What if she lets her emotions get the better of her? _

_Kara is a fighter_, the tactician said firmly. _No, not a fighter. A hero. She's a genuine hero just like her soddin' cousin. _

_But I'm not a hero. _

_Never have been, never will be._

_So what makes me think I'm good enough for her?_

"_The Sinestro Corps is being drawn further into the core of the battlefield," _John informed The Black Dog over their telepathic link, his firm candor reuniting Lloyd's two disparate trains of thought. _"We're taking heavy casualties but the first part of your plan is going through just as you anticipated." _

As worried as he was for Kara, Lloyd couldn't help but feel a bit of pride that John Stewart and the Guardians had been so receptive to his admittedly risky plan. Of course, part of that trust may very well have had something to do with the fact that his particular strategy put a great deal of the burden upon his shoulders. Still, as stifling as the responsibility could have been, he had to admit that he truly liked the thought of being forced to struggle with such a weight. After all, having been forced to deal with all the emotional turmoil that he had been busy kicking about in his cranium for the past several months, it was nice to be able to go back to dealing with something as simple as an intergalactic crisis. At least you knew where you stood in something like that.

Lloyd cast his sights toward an enormous spectral creation that easily scattered the regiment of Sinestro Corps members that had been making their way towards him. Following close behind the impressive ethereal handiwork, John Stewart hurtled forward looking like a cross between a knight of Arthurian legend and something taken straight out of the latest science-fiction blockbuster. Though he had never had a great deal of patience for such seemingly ostentatious displays of force, The Black Dog couldn't deny the majestic intricacy of John's dangerous creations. It seemed so dissimilar from the straightforward, uncomplicated (though just as effective) displays he had so often seen from Stephanie that it seemed that the accessories that served as John and Stephanie's sources of power were two entirely different entities.

_But you already knew that everyone handles war differently_, Lloyd's brain reminded him as John moved to his back. The small grouping of Yellow Lanterns managed to quickly recover from Stewart's opening salvo, forcing the two soldiers to go about exchanging fire with their foes once again.

_I know I'm asking for a lot of trust here, Da Vinci,_ Lloyd replied as he and his newfound partner blasted away while working to evade or parry the blasts they received in return. _Still, if this works out,__ the strong odds are that we can take the whole lot of 'em down in one fell swoop_.

_You know, _Stewart countered, _Batman never would have talked about one of his plans like that._

Lloyd was sorely tempted to see if he could catch the look in John's glowing green eyes as he heard the mental retort.

_But this is something he would have thought of. Looks like he's taught you well_.

The Black Dog couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Kara briefly marveled over the fact that it seemed so simple to snap the neck of the Sinestro Corps member she briefly held in her sturdy grip. It felt nothing at all like the cold dread and horror she felt while preparing to claim the life of Gorilla Grodd in that dingy warehouse so many months ago. Her heart wavered little, her brain registered only a miniscule portion of regret for the loss of life, and she was relatively certain she wasn't going to puke up the rations she had polished off back on The Big Whale only six hours before.

Quite frankly, she still wasn't certain about how she should feel about that.

One thing she was sure of, however, was that she didn't like the battleground she had been forced to fight upon. There were so many variables, so many indefinite possibilities, so many ways for things to slip out of her hands and each of those tiny unknowns seemed to be working together to overwhelm her senses. Her ability to see and smell so much more efficiently than that of a normal human, for example, a talent that had saved her life and the lives of her friends and family many times over, now worked against her as they forced her to witness the death and mayhem going on around her upon a sickeningly grand scale.

She wanted safety. She wanted to hear Stephanie tell one of her stupid jokes. She wanted Batman to pester her with his relentless offerings of advice and battle techniques. She wanted to be with Lloyd. She wanted to once again feel the serenity that she had gained during her days in Gotham.

_I just need to keep fighting_, the Last Daughter of Krypton reminded herself. _Then I can earn a little bit of peace. Then I can be with my family._

_Jimmy Crack Corn and I don't care. Jimmy Crack Corn and I don't care! JIMMY CRACK CORN AND I DON'T CARE!!_

Kara couldn't help but let out a relieved laugh in response to her friend's recent display of idiocy courtesy of yet another telepathic serenade. The smile on the face of the ever-energetic Green Lantern was quite infectious as well, the sight lifting Kara's heart while she watched Stephanie twirl and glide towards her. It was easy to see, as she used her energy claws to run through a pair of Yellow Lanterns that happened to get in her way, that the fair-haired Gothamite was at home within the mayhem and discord. And, as bizarre as the thought seemed to her, the half-Kryptonian couldn't help but envy her older friend and her seeming hunger for these kinds of situations.

_How ya holdin' up, Kare Bear?_

_Frantic with just a little dabble of ensuing panic_, Kara shrewdly replied. _How about you?_

The playful grunt that rose from Stephanie's lips could clearly be heard even from the telepathic link. _Come on, Superchica. This is the real deal! This is some hardcore good deeds we're pullin' off today! We can __**do **__this!_

Kara busied herself by parrying a pair of yellow energy bolts with a blast of heat vision. She could feel her temples momentarily throbbing with the effort of matching the force of the combined eldritch energies, hoping that the effort she had to put forth would get in the way of answering the unasked question. Stephanie, on the other hand, recognized that there was a little something more behind her friend's lack of a response and, just as she was prone to do, decided to put herself at risk in order to do something about it. Forming a green force bubble around the two of them, she grit her teeth in order to better weather the neural feedback that came with protecting the both of them from the surrounding attacks.

Still, given that this was Stephanie, she still refused to go straight to the point. "Kare Bear, my sparring record with you is currently standing at 1 win and 72 losses. Believe me, I've counted! And, let's face facts, the only reason I got that one win back in The Batcave is 'cause Lloyd came in all bare-chested and you got distracted."

Kara would have laughed as well as been embarrassed f she hadn't been so concerned for the safety of her friend. After all, the number of foes around them continued to grow and that meant even more of a burden for her smaller and less powerful partner.

"Simply put, the only way you're not coming out of this alive is if you keep thinking that you're not going to come out of this alive. You're strong, you got skillz, you da man now, dawg, so quit doubting yourself so I can get to work with a clear conscience."

Robin then cast her sights upon the hundreds of Yellow Lanterns between her and her objective. "Oh, and make sure to say a quaint little prayer for me since there ain't much of a guarantee that I'm comin' back from this in one piece."

And just like that, Stephanie had dropped the force bubble and rocketed towards the perimeter of the hectic battlefield. Kara took advantage of the chaos caused by her friend's sudden exit, rushing to slam her left fist into the neck of a Yellow Lantern that had tried to take a shot at Stephanie before moving to shatter the rib cage of another distracted Yellow Lantern with a double-footed thrust kick. Of course, that left her with another five members of the Sinestro Corps to deal with at the moment but the weight of that particular load was nothing she hadn't overcome before. In fact, judging from the cluster of yellow lights that had gathered around Lloyd and John Stewart, there were certainly worse situations to be in.

The momentary fear for Lloyd's safety sparked in her chest once again, her desire to hurry and go forward with the next part of the The Black Dog's plan quickly rising to the surface before she managed to stuff it back down once again.

However, that fear was all it needed to find her.

The other Sinestro Corps soldiers around her, responding to the command of their general, backed away as the grinning monstrosity made its way towards her. The power of the entity that had taken over the body of Kyle Rayner had twisted the Earthling's normally handsome countenance into a hideous, toothy, almost inhuman visage of well-focused insanity. As disturbing as the sight was, however, Kara couldn't help but feel a hint of relief that the monster had finally made its presence felt. The beast's arrival would all but force her to reign in her turbulent emotions, if only to prevent the monster from feeding upon them.

_This is just another part of the plan_, she reminded herself. _Just another piece of the puzzle that I have to help put together. _

"So much fear," Parallax hissed as it erected a force bubble that provided the demon with what was needed to speak to its latest quarry. "So much dread in your soul to go with the power in your limbs. You'll make an excellent snack, half-blood."

Parallax cut off any reply that Kara could have made with a massive energy blast powered by the combined force of the Oa power battery and the Qwardian rings that adorned the fingers of Kyle Rayner's left hand. Kara met the stream of energy at nearly the halfway point with an optic blast of her own, the searing heat of the deployed energy and the chill of space combining to form thin whispers of steam that began to slip from her eyes. She felt the pounding pulses of her heart and mind as she forced herself to summon the power she would require in order to meet her opponent's assault. The force of the strain quickly caused her doubt to clutch at her once again, the ever-persistent claw once again endeavoring to slowly tear its way through the walls she had hastily erected around her heart.

_That's enough!_

Kara was far too busy to stop and think about where the thought had come from. In fact, the only thing she could manage to determine was that it had come from her own thoughts.

_Stop your sniveling! You are a _warrior_ born! A noblewoman of the most honored house of Krypton! Such a display of stifling indecision is not worthy of your distinguished heritage._

The Last Daughter of Krypton would have liked to say that it was the "old her", the bloodthirsty monster who reveled in the power she held and was never afraid to demonstrate its efficacy, that had broadcasted these particular thoughts. However, just as Lloyd and his demon, just as Bruce Wayne and The Batman, she knew that it was just another part of her, the part of her that would most likely consume her if she simply continued to let it lie.

So it was here, within this highly unlikely choice of venues, that Kara Zor-el finally decided to bring the both of them together. Refusing to hold back the almost feral grin that had started to form upon her lips, she abandoned her fear and dove headlong into what she had been born, bred, and conditioned to do. The fire that had been stoked by the foul machinations and manipulations of her own family rose up in her gut just as the heat from her eyes broadened and intensified. She relished in the shock and trepidation in the eyes of the good man that Parallax had taken over, the showcase of emotions adding more fuel to her internal conflagration.

She knew she could go back to being a woman. Now, however, Kara was well aware that she needed to become the monster to survive.

* * *

_Alaska_

The Batman made sure to shield his eyes as the combined force of a trio of modified white phosphorous grenades caused a White Martian to be thrown against the walls of the basement, the pale monstrosity howling as it was quickly burnt alive by the chemicals that coated its body. Still, as dangerous as his present quarry most certainly was, the renowned detective had a much bigger prize on his mind. Turning his eyes toward Scandal Savage, his face took on a concentrated grimace as the leader of The Secret Six quickly met his eyes. It only took a half second and a shot from her flame launcher elapsed before Scandal understood what he wanted to do and moved to do her part.

"We need to recover the Mensobous Luminitas!" Scandal reminded her comrades while looking for her next target, "and the only way we can do that is to get our hands on Doctor Psycho! Team! We need to provide cover fire in order to allow Batman to get after him! GET TO IT!"

Hardly needing to be told twice, Catman and The Martian Manhunter joined Scandal in sending a wave of solar energy that swept throughout the area of space between The Batman and the door that the diminutive telepath had passed through less than a minute before. That manuever, combined with Knockout's eager leap into the fray in order to get closer to the bloodthirsty extraterrestrials that were forced to scurry away or turn intangible in order to avoid the combined cover fire, allowed Gotham's dark knight the time and room to fire his zip line. The synthesized diamond drill head at the wire's tip easily punctured the cement roofing above the catwalk, thus allowing him to employ the grappling gun's recoil mechanisms to lift himself into the air. His muscular body rocketed upward at a velocity of nearly 60 miles an hour, thus allowing him to get high enough in order to safely land upon the steel walkway in a manner of seconds. Completing the landing with the aid of the drag provided by his heavy, black mantle, he continued to dash forward unabated as several phenomenally accurate phosphorous arrows fired from Arrowette's bow provided him with enough cover to further evade any interference from his exponentially more powerful pursuers.

Thirty-two seconds, three rooms, 77 steps, and a double somersault down to ground level later, he found himself in a room that was even darker than the ones he had just passed through. His line of sight momentarily reduced, a quick press on one of the switches within his cowl quickly activated a pair of night vision lenses that Noah had pilfered straight from one of the PSQ-20's that Wayne Enterprises had recently sold to the USAF. Although the NVG equipment had been specifically designed to aid gunners and pilots during night-time infiltrations and reconnaissance missions, the equipment's thermal imaging capabilities were more than suitable for the task at hand. Creeping forward with slow, steady steps, the detective did his best to avoid the pungent stench of dried blood and fetid mildew as he continued to search for his prey.

"You know somethin', Brucie? I think I'm really beginning to see why you're such a big fan of the 'stick to the shadows' approach."

Bruce slowly stretched the muscles in his neck to and fro, his eyes searching for the owner of the bemused voice. Unfortunately, it was quite apparent that Cizko had, at some point in his violent and hedonistic past, learned how to throw his voice.

"I mean, you can pretty much guarantee a captive audience," Doctor Psycho continued, seemingly undeterred by the realization that his telepathy could not break through his opponent's neurological shielding. "You can get yourself a nice, heady dose of that control over the environment that the two of us seem so compelled to go after. Oh, and let's not forget about that nice little feeling you get deep in your belly when you just know that the other guy is waiting for you to do something. Sort of reminds me of the time I killed my gym teacher after he told me to climb the rope in gym class."

The Batman put all the strength he could muster into his left arm as he flung a Batarang that made its way straight for Cizko's protruding forehead. Unfortunately, the mad doctor was just far away to duck under the shot, his twisted mouth letting out a smattering of decidedly profane words as he fell to his knees in a moment of surprised panic. The situation was made even worse when it became the detective's turn to be surprised as the shrouded warrior managed to barely register a new heat signature upon his lenses before he felt the creature's claws digging into the armor that protected his neck. Letting out a gurgle as he felt the air being stolen from his lungs, Bruce could dimly make out the sound of Cizko's chuckling through the White Martian's snarls.

"Just what the hell is it with heroes and thinking that the villain is just going to run off on his own all willy nilly?" Psycho derisively asked his confined foe while the heels of his Italian shoes made measured taps against the filthy floor. "Honestly, you disturbed, repressed little knockwurst of an orphan, you're just insulting your intelligence by falling for this little trap o' mine."

Wayne let out a strangled cough, his eyes focused on the gleaming gaze the White Martian had for him. "And you. . . are an even bigger fool. . ." he countered while his left hand slowly snaked into one of the pockets of his utility belt, "for thinking I would."

Although the detective did not get as much velocity as he had wanted into his shot, the needle of his phosphorous dart had little trouble puncturing the skin of his target as it made its way straight for one of the Martian's carotid arteries. The weapon unleashed its payload shortly after arriving at its destination, unleashing a series of chemicals into the creature's bloodstream designed to superheat the alien's blood and cause a hasty and violent disruption of the monster's body chemistry. Dropping gracefully to the ground as the Martian began to convulse and wretch, he quickly pulled the pin attached to a modified RKG-3 hand grenade before setting the powerful incendiary at his opponent's feet. The combination of a powerful forward dash and the shielding provided by his cape allowed him to avoid the brunt of the ensuing blast, a stroke of good fortune that had not been shared by his grievously wounded opponent.

"Yeah, I sort of figured that out myself."

Batman came out of his forward roll only to find himself stumbling backwards as a familiar scent invaded his nostrils. The causticity of the vapor flowing through his respiratory system caused his vision to shift, the room in front of him looking as if it was transforming before his very eyes. Briefly falling to his knees before crawling into the fetal position, the vigilante tried desperately to expel both the fumes from his body as well as the images that threatened to fracture his mind but soon found that he was unable to do either.

Standing above him, Edgar Cizko watched Bruce's struggling with a toothy grin.

"You're not the only one who does their homework, sweetie," Psycho said as he leaned in closer to The Batman's unhearing ears. "And, when I found out that those implants you got from that tub of lard soul sister kept me from getting into your noggin, well, I decided to go for the next best thing. Just consider this a posthumous gift from the recently and messily departed Doctor Jonathan Crane."

* * *

_Gotham City – The East End_

As much as he would have liked to criticize the source of the timely reinforcements, Nightwing would be a fool to deny that the arrival of Ubu and his forces had turned the tide. In fact, as Talia's chief bodyguard took down a pair of enraptured assassins with a picture-perfect display of Xianglong Shiba Zhang, the former professional sidekick had to admit that he was glad, for once, to be on the same side as the brutish but skilled warrior.

Another of Nightwing's comrades was a bit more forward with their appreciation. "Ubu, you charming mountain of man muscle," Catwoman said with a surprisingly cheerful grunt as Cassandra Cain gently set her down against the eastern wall of the loft's common room. "Try to avoid leaving more of your students' bodily fluids on my floor, would you?"

Ubu briefly turned to meet the half-focused gaze of the alluring former cat burglar while his brawny, hair-strewn arms wrapped another of Vincent's unwilling soldiers within an air-stealing front face lock. "I shall endeavor to avoid the inconvenience, Miss Kyle," he roughly replied just before dropping his now unconscious opponent facedown on the floor. "After all, with all due respects to my current master and her standing issues with you, Master Ra's always held a great deal of respect for your charm and cunning."

"Well, well," Selina purred, raising an intrigued eyebrow while Cassandra and Merkel worked together to incapacitate the now dwindling supply of adversaries. "Who would have thought that the Goateed Wonder would come down from his mountaintop to take a gander at little ol' me?"

Nightwing shook his head while his idle hands delivered a double-handed strike to the gut of his one remaining foe. His sarcasm ratcheted up yet another several notches upon noticing that Ubu had responded to Cabwoman's flirtatious comments with what the massive guardian probably thought to be a charming smile but looked more like a profoundly creepy grimace. Struggling to keep his eyes from rolling off of their sockets and falling to the already cluttered floor, Dick found Noah's heavy sigh to be quite comforting.

"Am I the only one who believes that your father should cease seeking metal more attractive and begin a quest to find a more suitable mate?" asked The Calculator. "Perhaps someone who possesses the slightest iota of sanity for starters."

"I've always thought so," Nightwing replied before quietly sliding his escrima sticks back into their assigned holsters. Looking on as Ragdoll put an end to the efforts of the last of Vincent's conscious lackeys with a complicated leg takedown, Dick let out a relieved breath that had to struggle to free itself from a pair of cracked ribs. All the pain and violence aside, he had to admit that he was proud of the outcome and how he contributed to it.

However, the blushing of his pride, as was so often the case in situations such as these, proved to be quite short lived. The first clues that there had been a new arrival was a familiar _whoosh _and a surprised screech as Cassandra Cain was launched into the wall that she had just placed Catwoman against only moments before, her slender body slamming into the plaster and wood with a forceful _whomp _before she tumbled to the floor unconscious. Deadshot was the next to fall a picosecond later, the shattering of both of his wrists disarming him quite effectively before a poke to the nerve cluster at the base of the sharpshooter's neck sent him down for the count. While the blur the worked its way through many of Ubu's students, Ragdoll had the presence of mind to use his _katar_ to dangle from the high ceiling, thus allowing him some miniscule bit of safety from whatever was terrorizing them.

By the time Nightwing had managed to move a single, solitary muscle, Hunter Zolomon had Selina held against his chest, her bleeding abdomen on full display. The sudden look of uncertainty on Catwoman's face was a stark contrast to the dangerous grin that Zoom had to give to Nightwing, his bright, white teeth glinting in the loft's now dismal tableau.

"My compliments for having the strength to see your way through the challenge that we set out for you, Richard Grayson," Zoom said softly while his scarlet eyes radiated a far more hostile intent. "However, I'm afraid that it's time to put an end to this cheap charade. Our attentions must be devoted elsewhere, you see."

"Speakin' of keeping your eye on the prize. . ."

Zoom's grin grew even wider as he easily blocked Selina's attempt to slam her left heel into his scrotum, his phenomenal speed allowing him to easily stop the awkward motion with a great deal of room to spare. Continuing to display his near unparalleled dexterity, Zolomon took a moment to release Selina before thumping his own left foot into the upper part of Selina's right leg. A sickening crack resounded through the room and mixed with Catwoman's scream as she began to sink to her knees in agony. However, her descent was quickly halted as her viciously fast tormentor lifted her back to her feet, his lower limbs positioned just so in order to allow the former FBI officer to employ his phenomenal leg strength in order to keep his captive immobile but still standing.

"I've just shattered your leg like the fine porcelain you used to be so fond of stealing," Zoom whispered with a note of warning that could be clearly heard by both of Gotham's resident vigilantes. "And the next time you try and make a move like that, I'll break every other bone you have."

* * *

Stephanie was pretty damn certain that it wasn't her job to lead the sizeable contingent of Green Lanterns assigned with the task of breaking through the main line of The Sinestro Corps. On the other hand, this whole thing was supposed to be a war, at least according to the marquee, and, well, if she had learned anything from Bruce's old war movies it was that there was always some fool who went and did something brave that they weren't supposed to do.

And, let's face facts, who could play a better fool than her?

She managed to twist her way around a trio of yellow blasts, barely wincing as one of the shots punched into the shoulder and arm of one of her nearby comrades. Never comfortable with the phenomenally complex creations that many of her peers seemed to be so fond of producing, she opted instead to conserve her energy by settling for firing spiraling beams of energy that found their targets more frequently than not. However, as successful as her individual endeavors had been, she also couldn't help but notice that there were quite a few people to shoot at. More people, in fact, than she was comfortable with blasting unless she could make certain that she wasn't going to get blasted back in the process.

She also had to admit that she wasn't the biggest fan of Lloyd's plan. Granted, the approved battle time proposal had left her with quite the important task, something that she tended to be a fan of since she adored the attention that came with the responsibility. Nevertheless, the risk that Kara and Lloyd were asked to put themselves through threatened to awaken what truly frightened her.

Robin began to chastise herself the moment the rebellious thought had slipped from her busy cranium. She had to believe in her big brother, just like she believed in Bruce that night the old man told her about Jason Todd. The both of them had earned her trust, and a great deal more, because they believed in her when she said she was going to be something extraordinary and that was what truly empowered her. As far as she was concerned, the whole thing about the Oa ring powered by fearlessness was a bunch of bullshit. Belief was the name of her game, whether it was belief in what she was, what she could be, or whatever the hell the people she loved saw in her.

She hoped her mother believed in her.

Robin recognized that she suddenly gained another wingman as John Stewart made his way towards her looking as constipated as ever. _Well, maybe somebody else would view it as all stoic and professional_, she admitted to herself, _but he just looks blocked up to me._

_Parallax has made its way to the center of the battlefield, _John informed her through their telepathic link. _Kara and Lloyd are still holding up well and everything is going according to plan_.

_So losing a few dozen of our colleagues was part of the S.O.P.? _Stephanie asked while creating her familiar energy claws.

_Situations like these don't really call for a great many standard operating procedures_, John replied, his analytical candor quite palpable even from within his thoughts. _And besides, __I'm still trying to be optimistic about all this_, he confessed while constructing an enormous energy cannon with the aid of his ring. _I have to say that __your new friends certainly know how to handle their side of a fight._

_You shouldn't have expected anything less,_ Stephanie said with a smile, her mood lifting despite the shoddy circumstances.

A flash of green on her left told Stephanie of another possible friendly presence that might help her in reaching the outside perimeter. Sparing what little peripheral vision she could muster, Robin stretched her left eyeball to catch the bizarre but familiar sight of Graf Toren soaring her way. Her former instructor's bright orange skin, mixed with the green radiance flowing from the ring of the veteran Lantern, seemed to make the warrior appear transparent as he quickly made headway upon the crowded battleground. Smatterings of blood partially obstructed the alien markings that covered the Karazian's hairless skull but the sterling condition of the monk's battle uniform served as a strong clue that none of it was his own.

"You're making it remarkably difficult to keep up with you," the mustachioed Lantern told Stephanie through oxygen supplied by a shared force bubble. "I should have guessed that the reckless behavior you displayed during your field training would mirror your decorum upon the battlefield."

"Why Steffie Graf. . . Does this mean that you really _really _like me?" Stephanie asked playfully while taking advantage of Toren's energy manipulation abilities to poke through her fellow Lantern's energy shields with even more spiraling beams of energy.

"Let's just say that you've managed to create a very clever veil," Toren countered. The two silently switched places, with Stephanie now on defense while the elder Lantern worked to lay waste to the enemies blocking their path. John was quick to add to the fireworks as well, his energy cannon continuing to let loose with all the power his ring could muster.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stephanie said in a rather unconvincing manner, her force bubble holding up well as she and her fellow Lanterns inched their way forward through the main line.

"You know, little one," Toren added just before snapping the neck of a Yellow Lantern who had made the foolish decision of trying to engage him in hand-to-hand combat. "When I had heard the legend of The Torchbearer, of a Lantern from your galaxy who would grow to be the greatest of our kind, I must confess that I had always suspected that it would be you."

"Is that right?" asked Stephanie just after the two had switched places once again and Toren's force bubble had reemerged in order to protect them both.

"Indeed. And now, what with Rayner having been taken over by the Parallax entity, perhaps there is still time for you to accept the mantle."

Robin grit her teeth as a pair of blasts rocked Toren's shield and caused her to crash into the shield's back. "I'm not a torchbearer, Mister Toren," she replied while quickly recovering her equilibrium. "I'm just a girl who likes to dress up in black and live in Gotham with a broody, old bat."

Unfortunately for Stephanie, the Karazian culture had very little appreciation for the art of rhyme. Of course, even if Toren was in the mood for a laugh, his senses were already distracted by a bolt of energy that shattered his force shield, the resulting shockwave causing him to be hurtled backward. Using her eyes to follow the blast back to its originator, Robin narrowed her eyes as she was enveloped by a large yellow bubble that emitted an energy signal that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle.

"I've told my subordinates to leave us in peace," announced Stephanie's fellow occupant within the barrier. "After all, I have long wanted to be responsible for the death of another fool who would wish to rob me of my legacy."

The young Green Lantern couldn't help but let out a snort as she took a gander at the pink-skinned warrior. "Amon Sur, I presume. Before we start. . . could you maybe explain to me just why I would bother getting in the way of you being a bleeding corpse?"

To his credit, the son of Abin Sur and the designated Yellow Lantern of Space Sector 2814 barely let his irritation surface. He chose, instead, to once again focus his fear of being forgotten, of never having the opportunity to claim the legacy of his proud family line, and let the unfettered emotion flow through the power network supplied by the ring on his left hand.

"Far too many Lanterns have been chosen from your little dirtball of a world," Amon Sur said as energy crackled around his body. "I find that it's high time to reduce the surplus population."

* * *

"Surround this unwanted interloper, my students," Ubu sternly ordered while motioning his arms in order to better organize the remains of his conscious troopers. "We must not allow him to escape!"

"Stand down, Ubu!" Dick exclaimed with equal authority, his forceful tone surprising both Catwoman and the muscular bodyguard. "He's in control here!"

The slight smirk that accompanied the rest of Hunter Zolomon's sharp facial features appeared to be just as dangerous as the switchblade he held against Selina's throat. Meanwhile, caught between wanting to break away and not being equipped to do so, Catwoman chose to allow the speedster to support her weight for the time being, hoping that she'd eventually be able to find a way to escape.

"One quality possessed by any good leader is the ability to recognize when they've been beaten," Zolomon said in an almost respectful matter. "I must admit that I find it quite a shame that it took just a little too long for you to remember that."

Nightwing raised his open palms above his shoulders in a conceding manner. "No offense, Zoom, but I've already got quite a few people who feel the need to chastise and/or examine me and, quite frankly, you're probably the least qualified of the lot."

"Is that right?" Zoom asked in a menacing matter, the edge of his blade drawing millimeters closer to Catwoman's pulsating carotid arteries.

"Absolutely," Nightwing replied with an equally threatening tone. "In fact, you pretty much lost your right to judge somebody the moment you started thinking that the world owed you for what little you had done to protect it."

The glare emanating from Zoom's thin lips seemed a great deal ominous thanks to the sudden gleam in his crimson eyes. "What do you think you know about anything, Mister Grayson? What makes you think you know anything about me?"

"I found out enough from my father's files," Dick snidely replied. "And not to unnecessarily attack your raison d'etre or anything but you probably could have done a lot more with you time if you focused your little life lesson class on somebody else. I mean, come on! Wally West! The guy's got more 'strength' in his left nut than the two of us have got put together!"

Selina let out a hiss as she felt the angry trembling from her captor, the voluptuous vigilante momentarily troubled that Nightwing's attempt to goad the psycho would leave her with a hole in her cat suit that she certainly could've done without.

"Oh, and don't start to think that we're making even contributions on this effort!" Dick added with a wicked grin and a wave of his right ring finger. "I mean, I don't want to toot my own horn here but I'm definitely bringing more than my fair share of weight onto this particular seesaw. And you know what's sad? You figure that somebody with your abilities would be able to make something more of yourself than a perennial lackey!"

Crimson lightning started to sparkle from Zoom's arms and legs, causing Selina to grunt from the heat of the voltage that burned into her limbs.

"Let's see," Dick went on while tapping his left ring finger against his cheek as if he were deep in thought. "You started out your illustrious little career as Gorilla Grodd's errand boy, may the rotten simian rest in rotten orange husks. Then you had a brief little stint as Captain Cold's butt boy before you took a shot at being out on your own. Of course, you failed miserably at that and moved on to be an unwitting dupe of Alexander Luthor. Then, after successfully murdering a 17-year-old boy you've apparently gone on to achieve the illustrious title of The Silver Coyote's bitch."

Despite the precariousness of her situation, Selina couldn't help but start chuckling. The chortles ended quickly, however, as the metal of Zoom's dagger lightly grazed against the skin along her neck.

"Tell me something. Does Vincie force you to dress up like the Road Runner during your little special times or do you just go and do it for the kicks?"

"I don't have any more time for your sophomoric stupidity," Zoom replied through gritted teeth. "And don't fault me because I had the integrity to stop pretending that I'm some kind of hero. That I had the courage to move forward instead of remaining safely in place."

Nightwing sighed. "Again with the tired old lines. I told you, Zoomie. I've heard enough of it already."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," countered Zolomon. "Pretty soon, you'll no longer have to hear_aaagh!_"

The next few events happened quite quickly. Of course, maybe they weren't that swiftly proceeding from the perspective of Hunter Zolomon but it was safe to say that his faculties were devoted elsewhere. Selina was on the move a mere half-second after the round from the modified Mosin Nagant rifle plunged into the back of Zolomon's right shoulder blade, her tired muscles stretching laboriously in order to twist away from Zoom's dwindling hold upon her while simultaneously plunging her right elbow into the man's abdomen. Nightwing's smoke grenade clanked against Zoom's foot a mere three tenths of a second later, the attack proving to be nothing more than a vain attempt to disorient his target further. Another sight that Zolomon had chosen to retreat came just a few moments later, when Ragdoll's attempt to impale Vincent's second-in-command with his butcher knife passed through an afterimage of the yellow-garbed speedster.

The battle was over in less than two seconds.

"What in the _hell _took you so long?!" Nightwing bellowed to seemingly no one in particular. "Just how long did you expect me to stall a guy with super speed?"

A voice over the communications line tutted the domino-mask wearing crime fighter for his impatience. "You shouldn't be so fussy, Richard," the new arrival replied, his response made a mite unclear thanks to the firing of a pair of zip lines and the dual _plinks _of diamond-head darts sinking into a wooden plank situation on the roof of Selina's patio. "After all, we can't all run at the speed of light."

Dick could feel the muscles in his face begin to tense as an all too familiar fellow swung his way into Selina's loft. The man's entire body was covered in battle armor that, as usual, was equipped with all the straps and holsters that any weapons expert could ask for. In fact, the only part of the man's body that was not covered by cloth or titanium mesh was his face, revealing a head of iron-gray hair and an eye patch over the mercenary's right eye.

"Don't start thinking that I owe you anything for this, Slade."

The man known as Deathstroke gave his longtime rival a confident grin while spreading his arms wide. "You're insulting my intelligence, young man. I am a professional, after all, and a man who believes in respecting the boundaries of others. . ."

"NIGHTWING!!"

A blur of blue and gray rushed past Deathstroke in order to glomp Nightwing at an impressive rate of speed. The incident not only managed to cut the elder mercenary short but also prompted him to roll his one remaining eyeball at the sad little display. Nightwing, on the other hand, was all to happy to give Slade a fiendish smile as he wrapped his arms around Rose Wilson's shoulders, returning Ravager's enthusiasm with a slight bit of his own.

After all, one quality possessed by any good leader was the ability to know when the battle was won.

* * *

_22.6 miles from Kartana Weapons Facility_

Karbarra had never been known as the most peaceful of planets. Of course, that isn't to say that the dusky surface of the industrial planet did not possess any spots of serenity. On the contrary, the rock-strewn barrens, a kaleidoscope of reds and browns that served as a fine reflection of the planet's hardened but industrious inhabitants, provided an unusual form of beauty for anyone who chose to look for it. It was a land that had experienced much, survived even more, and now looked to be prepared for anything.

Including the small spaceship streaking its way towards it at nearly 200 miles per hour.

Sparks flew from the sturdy, heat-resistant metal alloys as the tiny craft crashed, slid, and tumbled against the rocks and stone, the pod rolling dozens of times over throughout its chaotic descent. Gravity and inertia soon began to play their accorded roles, however, as the vessel began to slow down before ultimately coming to a stop in a midst of hissing smoke and rapidly cooling metal. Silence reigned for another minute or so, the stillness interrupted only by an eastern wind that slipped through the cracks and apertures that pockmarked the ship. The current found something new to flow through, however, as the door to the shuttle was kicked open by the foot of someone who, quite frankly, had seen better days.

"Shit," Roy Harper said with a snarl aimed at no one in particular. "Now I'm sober."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

I'll be honest with you guys and gals. I have absolutely, positively nothing more intelligent or witty to say. Granted, I usually don't have a great many wonderful things to write about in the first place but I do like to think I can carry my own weight when it come to summing things up. Still, my new job is doing a good job in keeping me away from the comic book store so it's tough to come up with any relevant gossip. That being said, thanks, as always, to everyone who keeps on reading and reviewing. I love being a teacher as well as a student and giving and receiving feedback are a big part of what that's all about. Come to think of it, a big part of writing an ongoing series is wetting the readers' whistles so. . .

* * *

Issue #66 Preview

Well, as Protector of Canon breathes a sigh of relief at the fact of Roy being alive, Arsenal looks to have a good long walk ahead of him. While that's going on, however, we've got a whole bunch of fighting to look forward to! We've got Kara taking on Parallax, Hal brawling with Fatality, Steph going one-on-one with Amon Sur, J'onn and the gang's taking on Martians, and Batman's got his hands full with Doctor Psycho and a lung full of fear toxin. Tune in as the fur continues to fly in part seven of _Power Play _and the next installment of The Misfits: Functions of Fear. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	66. Functions of Fear

Issue #66

Issue #66

Functions of Fear

Alaska

"Is this the best that you unskilled lummoxes have to offer?" Knockout asked in her usual belligerent manner, her taunting somewhat muffled by the puffiness of her split lip and the fact that those aforementioned amateurs had cracked the left side of her jaw. "Parademons spawned straight from the womb of Apokolips have tested my skills more sufficiently!"

As much as she tended to enjoy the enthusiasm of her lover, Scandal knew enough to recognize the fact that her team was currently on the losing end of things. Several excruciatingly long minutes had passed since either her or Thomas had been able to land a decent shot from their modified flame launchers and their vanguard had certainly paid a severe cost for their failures. Kay sported a variety of burns along her exposed arms an legs, the blazing heat of their opponents' "Martian vision" having taken its toll on the towering redhead's tough but beautiful skin. Looking to her right, she found that J'onn was in even worse shape, the Martian Manhunter's diligence towards protecting his weaker comrades evidently producing a nasty reward of hideous burns that pockmarked the JLA member's bottle-green flesh.

"God damn it! Not again!" Scandal overheard the familiar frustration coming from Cecilia as she expressed her frustration towards their opponents' ability and intangibility. A quick look at the quiver of the fair-haired archer revealed that Arrowette's arsenal was running dangerously thin while another glance at the mild panic within the young woman's blue eyes told the elder vigilante that Cecilia was not liking the current situation at all. _Perhaps_, the leader of the Secret Six thought to herself as she pushed herself forward, _perhaps that is why she doesn't see what is going on behind her. _

"GET DOWN, LITTLE ONE!"

Arrowette and Scandal both let out surprised gasps as the latter tackled the former to the ground. However, while the younger woman's cry had been one of shock and surprise, Scandal's had been one of utter pain. Recognizing what the sound tended to lead to, Cecilia rushed to examine her rescuer, her eyes quickly zeroing in on the black and red hole that had been punched into the center of Scandal's abdomen. Though the high temperature behind the attack had allowed for some moderate degree of cauterization, the current patrol partner of The Batman knew enough about the human anatomy to not only recognize a lung shot when she saw one but also to be keenly aware of the consequences behind the damage.

"Oh, God," Cissie mumbled as J'onn slid his battered body in front of the two of them. "We need to get you out of here."

Arrowette worked quickly to use her right arm to support the woman who had saved her life while her left hand stumbled for her communicator. However, both of her simultaneously efforts were rebuffed just as quickly, the determination in her eyes and the tightness in the brunette's jaw clear signs that the daughter of Vandal Savage had no intention of leaving. She punctuated her decision with a picture perfect shot from her flame launcher that slammed into the torso of an oncoming Martian, giving the burning body a grim smile while she devoted the rest of her body towards searching for another target.

"Been a while since I've had to regrow two lungs in one day," Scandal grunted to the shocked archer while hefting herself back to her feet. "Just try to make sure that I don't have to go for three."

* * *

After spending over a decade hunting the most dangerous game that Central and Eastern Africa had to offer, Thomas Blake knew enough of the relationship between predator and prey to realize that he was currently at the latter end of the totem pole. Of course, he also knew enough about the group dynamics of his little motley crew to realize that some of his compatriots would probably not recognize that this was true.

"YOU DARE ATTACK THE WOMAN WHO SHARES MY BED, YOU FETID, LITTLE MISCREANTS!" Knockout bellowed as Catman watched the statuesque warrior plunge her borrowed blade into the neck of yet another White Martian. "Why not test your mettle upon someone who is capable of confronting you directly?"

Catman let out his disbelief with a short groan before twisting himself through a front somersault that vaulted him over Kay's muscular frame. It was a move designed to earn him the breathing room he would need in order to put his weaponry to better and, although he usually detested using such weaponry, he could certainly see what Checkmate's guns could offer him within this particular predicament. After all, when you are the hunted, it is your only goal to search for a way to either escape or even up the hunt.

"Hate to say this," the sandy-haired vigilante said as he let loose with several shots from his flame launcher in order to properly cover the former Fury's six, "but I think it's safe to say that we've seen better days than this."

"Bah," Knockout quickly replied, her fist slamming into the elastic jaw of another Martian who had just foolishly attempted to engage her in hand-to-blade combat. "This is nothing but a mere trifle. Do you not recall the time that Pistolera roasted my body alive with the aid of a Thangaarian sniper round?"

"Hard to forget that one," Catman admitted while firing a precise shot that crashed straight into the face of the Martian in front of him. He followed that up by raking his claws against the burning creature's chest before firing another pair of shots that put his target in even greater agony. "The house smelled like burnt meat for the next week."

Kay found herself unable to immediately respond thanks to a stern punch that landed straight upon her already broken nose. Despite the extensive damage and the massive whiplash caused by the force of the blow, however, the red-haired firebrand was more than happy to respond with a head butt to her troublesome foe before employing her long, powerful fingers to snap the Martian's neck. "Was that smell truly me, Thomas? I must apologize. I had always thought that it had been the results of one of Deadshot's pathetic exploits in the kitchen."

Before Thomas could confess that he could certainly see how Kay could have confused the scents, his senses caught hold of a primal scream that suddenly exploded through the room. Turning his eyes towards the commotion, his blue eyes involuntarily widened as he watched The Martian Manhunter collapse to the ground, the hero's normally sturdy frame discombobulated and marred with a litany of bruises and burns no doubt partially caused by the quartet of White Martians who loomed over him. The victorious party soon turned to the task of closing in on the two women that J'onn had been working so hard to protect. Thomas could feel the air rush out of his lungs as Scandal fired a desperate volley of shots designed to keep the monsters at bay but the Martians' intangibility made it a fruitless effort.

The lack of both the strength to stop it and the time to do anything about it quickly weighed down upon him as Thomas Blake realized that he was about to watch one of his few friends die.

* * *

Meanwhile, as the rest of his team was threatening to crumble nearly 75 yards away, Bruce Wayne was busy fighting a battle of his own. However, the theatre of war was not within the dingy former oil refinery that Edgar Cizko and Vincent Culp had obtained in order to utilize it as a testing and production facility for the widespread usage of the Mensobous Luminitas. No, this fight took place within the ever-active mind of the man that many considered to be the world's greatest detective. It was a truly dangerous tableau, perhaps not one rife with the physical threats and stressors that his teammates were being forced to endure but could certainly still be considered perilous for those who were forced to wage war upon it.

For example, it had always been phenomenally difficult for Bruce to look at an image of his mother and father. This was not because he did not wish to see them, mind you, but because of the fact that nearly his entire life had been defined by the reality behind this particular dream. Though his father looked hale and hearty here, his gentle eyes looking down at him with clear adoration, he knew that there was a hole in Thomas Wayne's heart, an almost impossibly small aperture that had robbed a young boy of something he had longed to bring back to him for over three decades. He knew that the strings of his heart could so easily be pulled taut by the warmth within his mother's smile and the sight of her soft brown hair, those long tresses that always seemed to smell like strawberries after she had rushed back into the manor during a rainy spring day. However, he was also well aware that a large part of who he had become had been created by the reality that those eyes would never truly open anymore, that her hair had been ruined by the blood and gray rainwater that she lay on while her life was stolen away. It was those images, those horrible, honest memories that kept him from working to prevent that such a tragedy would never happen to anyone else.

This time, however, there was a rare variation to the familiar dream.

"You know that we can't stay, son," his father told him, his firm voice ringing in Bruce's frantic senses. "There's something else that we have to do."

Bruce felt his body shaking wildly as he turned towards his mother, the heart and body of the eight-year-old cinching up as a sad smile surfaced upon her thin lips.

"Just remember that we'll always love you, Bruce."

The boy finally broke through his paralysis, his tiny limbs rushing towards his mother and father as they faded from sight. Stifling a sob as his arms passed through the nothingness that his mother and father had become, his fear and sorrow kept him distracted as another presence appeared at his unprotected back. Turning his watery eyes towards it in a panic, he felt his heart momentarily lift as Alfred appeared before his eyes, the kindness in the old man's eyes marred only slightly by the sad smile that the gentleman had to give him.

"I have spent so much time watching over you, Master Bruce. In fact, I must confess that I have spent too much time trying to protect you. I believe that it would be the best for the both of us if I take my leave."

Suddenly finding himself a grown-up man of forty, Bruce tried to work up his flagging courage in order to tell the old man that he was wrong. However, no matter how hard he tried to bring his impressive vocabulary to bear, he just couldn't get out the words. He could only say them within his own heart and mind.

_Please don't leave me. Can't you see that I don't want you to go?_

But another dusky presence had taken Alfred's place, this one being the boy he had thought of as a son long before he became a bat or a robin. _Except he's not a child anymore, is he? _Bruce asked himself while looking fondly upon the crime fighter who had become known to the world as Nightwing. _He's grown into a man. A man who deserves so much more than I've given him. Why can't he see that? Why can't I just tell him that?_

Dick broke up Bruce's heavy contemplations with a wistful shake of his handsome head, the younger man's lips twisting into a familiar half-smirk. "I know you want what's best for me, dad," the confident crime fighter assured the elder detective. "That's why I need to leave. If I stay then it'll just be too easy for me to go back to falling back behind your shadow."

_No! NO!! You're not in my shadow! You're already your own man! You don't need to leave in order to prove it! _

Bruce's thoughts were once again strong but his lips remained absolutely still. Once again, his long-earned inability to put his thoughts to words was costing him another thing he held dear.

"Looks like your strength is leavin' ya high and dry again, boss," a familiar voice ruthlessly pointed out. "'Course, given that big-deal brain of yours, ya probably should 'ave figured out how to nip somethin' like that in the bud, yeah?"

Bruce felt his stomach grow cold as Richard disappeared and a new set of figures made their presence felt within his mind's periphery. There were four of them now, each one of them his memory of a person who had chosen to devote themselves to his cause, become soldiers in his own war. Had he even ever bothered to thank them for their sacrifices? Did he ever tell them how much their kindnesses meant to him?

"Come on, Mister Wayne," Kara said kindly, her elegant but hardened features seeming to radiate with happiness. "You're smart enough to know that we couldn't just stay here forever."

The half-Kryptonian let out an involuntary chuckle, as if she found it hard to believe that someone as smart as Bruce would truly believe such a thing. Still, her reaction caused her a mild degree of embarrassment, as if she seemed ashamed to go through with the unconscious impulse. The figure next to her, however, gave her left hand a kindly squeeze, the love she could see in the young man's eyes once again restoring her flagging confidence.

"We're the primetime players, boss," Lloyd said evenly. "There's so much that we can do outside The Batcave. . . away from Gotham."

The Black Dog's drawn expression suddenly turned dour, his gaze turning away as if he couldn't bring himself to say what was on his mind. Kara, however, was more than willing to lend her own strength to the cause, emboldening Bruce's second-in-command with a tender one-armed embrace as her head nestled into Lloyd's chest.

"We can become something extraordinary," Kara reiterated with an almost sad smile. "We can become something that can be respected as well as feared. It's just like you wanted."

"Well, and let's be honest. . ." Lloyd added with a smirk before placing his lips against the top of Kara's head. "We'd just be crampin' each other's styles if we stick about fer too long."

Once again, Bruce had nothing to say to the couple's playful laughter. He was more afraid of putting himself at risk by saying a few words that he would rather lose it all slowly by remaining silent. At least then he could control his sadness; ration out his suffering. Flashes of other faces passed him by as the realization struck him like a punch to a gut. Tim then Silver then Barbara then Selina than Talia. One opportunity after another to hold onto something worthwhile slipped through his rigid fingers because he was afraid to stretch his hand.

"I honestly believe that you're thinking far too much about this," Noah informed him while Kara and Lloyd busied themselves by leaving his sight. "Although I thank you for helping me find what I consider to be my true purpose, I do believe that it is time for all of us to move on. After all, our debts are not something that is merely owed to Gotham but to the entire world."

Bruce simply shut his eyes, refusing to watch one of his oldest friends disappear. This always happened; the ultimate price for choosing to fight a war that he knew would never feature a final battle. It was inevitable that everything he loved would find something new to fight for, come across a new path to tread upon. He would always be alone. That was something he could always count on so long as he believed in it. Still, the inevitability was something that he feared more than any criminal, conqueror, despot, or terrorist that he had come across during his many travels.

And it was happening once again.

In fact, there was only one person left.

* * *

_KEEERASH!!_

Blake's look of horror turned to outright shock as the one-sided affair was interrupted by another unexpected arrival. This one came in the form of a helicopter that managed to crash into the refinery with such a force that it managed to tunnel through the metal and concrete between the roof of the facility and the basement as it tunneled its way into the already busy battleground. The crash inevitably resulted in an explosion as the spurting flames and burning metal flying through the room forced Apokoloptian, Earthling, and Martian alike to dive for cover. In fact, the only person nearby who had chosen not to seek shelter was the ship's pilot, the husky fellow clambering out of the ruined cockpit while his entire body appeared to be wrapped in flames. Still, despite enduring what appeared to be a horrible predicament, the smile that poked through the flames and burning flesh was clear as day to everyone who felt compelled to look at it.

"Right then, lads," the man said through smoldering but still rapidly recovering vocal chords. "Let's have a go, shall we?"

Nigel Thornton leapt into the battle with his enormous battle-ax held high. Claiming his first victim before even putting his feet to the ground with a wicked double-handed slash through the skull of a nearby White Martian, the hatchet effortlessly slicing through flesh and bone until it cleaved the monster in two. The vast majority of his body still set ablaze, he swung his weapon in enormous, threatening circles, as if daring Vincent's soldiers to take him on. Several of them took him up on his challenge and each one of them regretted their bravery as green and black blood began to coat the once pristine floor.

"Nigel Thornton, what in the name of all that is sane are you doing?" Scandal asked in disbelief, the effort made quite the bit difficult with her punctured lung.

Mao's former bodyguard gave one of his favorite students a smile, the sight made a great deal more unseemly given that a great deal of the man's skull was in plan sight thanks to the efficacy of the burning jet fuel. "Come on, cradle robber. Ya act like ya never seen a bloke on fire before."

Scandal took a moment to roll her eyes as Nigel made his way to her side. "I know that I'll probably regret asking this but just what, may I ask, possessed you to try this little stunt?"

"Well, these fellows don't like fire, right?" Nigel asked as he wrapped another Martian within his sturdy embrace. "An' besides, wot with the timetable The Bat gave me 's not like I had the time to fetch a pack of ciggies."

The ever-calm leader of The Secret Six let out a sigh as Kay rushed toward her, the vastly reduced number of opponents allowing her lover to have the opportunity to check up on her. She let out a relieved breath as the red headed former Fury wrapped her strong, sturdy arm around her, the tired field general allowing herself to smile as Thomas performed a similar feat with J'onn. She could see the Martian let out a strained gasp as he was hefted to his feet, a good sign that the many wounds that the Justice Leaguer sported was something that could be recovered from.

"Is the burning man a friend of yours, poppet?" Kay asked in an almost childishly curious manner. "I quite like his tactics."

_A win is a win_, Scandal continued to remind herself while shaking her head in dismay at the company she had chosen to keep.

* * *

Shaken, hurt, and angry, Bruce turned towards the impish smile framed upon the one person who had chosen to stay behind. Tim had once confessed that he was always a little frightened whenever the young woman brought that particular grin to bear, if only because he didn't entirely know the meaning behind it. Of course, as potentially frightening as the little smirk may have been, Bruce's every instinct as a detective told him that the words that would come behind it would do a great deal more damage.

So, just as he was prone to do, he chose to cut the pain off at the pass.

"What are you still doing here, you little pest," he said with an angry hiss. "Just go away!"

The mischievous crime fighter remained absolutely still, the only movement coming from a slight upward tilt of her lips.

"LEAVE!!" The Batman bellowed with his sternest glare at the forefront. "I don't want to hear your excuse! Just leave me alone!"

Robin merely shook her head as if she were dealing with a fussy toddler. "Come on, Batsie," she replied in a playful manner while crossing her arms over her chest. "I figured you'd have probably got the hint that it's going to take a lot more than your Battitude to get rid of me. I mean, you _are _supposed to be the brains of the operation, right? Pleeeease don't say that it's up to me 'cause I only just figured out how to turn on The Batcomputer on my own."

The Dark Knight was both speechless and motionless. Stephanie, on the other hand, continued to step closer to him until she could place her hands upon Bruce's shoulders. Giving the man the kindest smile she could offer, she peeled the cowl off of Bruce's face and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Just tell me what you're feeling. What you're _really _feeling. That's all I want."

Bruce hesitantly opened his mouth, as if he couldn't believe that it was possible that he could put such thoughts to words. A gentle squeeze of his shoulders kick started his mind while his heart, amazed at the goings on, suddenly discovered that it, for once, was being given the opportunity to take charge.

"I don't want to be alone."

It was pathetic, almost pleading, and perhaps the most truthful thing that Bruce had ever spoken.

Stephanie, for once, said nothing. She chose instead to wrap her small arms around him while pressing the side of her head into The Batman's chest, her blonde hair sweeping across the insignia upon his chest. Accepting the warmth that grew into his heart, he almost jumped as he felt a firm hand take the place of Stephanie's upon his broad shoulders.

"There ya go, boss. Wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Bruce and Stephanie turned together to see Kara, Lloyd, and Noah looking back at them. The hacker and half-demon both had gentle smiles upon their faces while the toothy grin on Kara's face made The Batman give an almost innocent smile in return. Watching the display with as much neutrality as he could muster, Alfred watched the scene with a wistful gleam in his aged eyes.

"There is no more need for you to be afraid of what you could be, Master Bruce. Accept what you are."

* * *

Batman's body exploded in agony as a pair of bullets sliced through his left shoulder. However, his strangled grunt was all but muted by the dramatic sigh of the gunman.

"Give me a god damned break!" Edgar Cizko spat out while attempting to make himself feel better by trying to figure out what body part he would shoot next. "Where's the quivering in fear? Where's the blood, spittle and bile dribbling out of the poor sap's mouth? I'd ask Crane for a god damned refund if I didn't already sell the dope's body for science and a pack of smokes!"

The diminutive telepath let out another groan of disgust while calming himself down by putting a bullet in each of The Batman's legs. He twisted his right wrist upward in order to point the barrel of the gun right underneath the detective's chin, wondering if it was possible to put a bullet in Wayne's brain while still keeping him alive.

_THUNK!_

But then the arrow plunged into his shoulder. Cizko instinctively dropped his gun, clamping his now unencumbered right hand over his tricep in a pointless attempt to stop the bleeding. While the murdering monster put his powerful mind to the task of keeping himself conscious, Arrowette broadened her predatory smirk while placing another arrow to the string.

"Don't you even _think _about touching my partner!"

Cizko gnashed his teeth while letting loose with a snarl of his own. "Fuckin' little strumpet! I told you that you'd have been better off in that little school of yours with the other girls and their sexual experimentation and naughty little jumpers. You should have taken my advice, bitch!"

The eastern wall suddenly exploded in a spray of plaster, wood, and steel as a White Martian charged into the room and headed straight for Cecilia. Intercepting the archer's shot with its' telekinesis, the drooling monster let its fangs show as it wrapped a sinewy arm around the woman's neck.

"CECILIA!!" Bruce bellowed, crawling forward in a vain effort to come to the aid of another good soul who had devoted herself to his cause.

A stray thought told Cecilia that she was rather touched with Bruce's showing of concern, especially given all the horror stories that Tim always seemed to have on call when it came to discussing The Batman's supply of sympathy. Of course, the vast majority of her was concentrating on the fact that she was about to be suffocated as the elastic skin of the White Martian who had ensnared her quickly enveloped her head. The strength of the grip caused her to hyperventilate with fright, which, of course, only caused her available supply of oxygen to slip from her that much quicker. The inky darkness that surrounded her began to grow spotty and dim when her ears suddenly heard a sharp hiss quickly followed by a rush of motion as she fell limply to the floor.

Heavy footfalls, her cleared senses, and the sight of a pale, white arm lying next to her told Arrowette that she had been rescued. Of course, it wasn't until she could fully take in the slight tremors of the metal catwalk and the sight of the small but stumpy feet that made them before she realized that Nigel had been her rescuer. Unable to do anything more strenuous than take in desperate breaths of air in order to restore her aching lungs, she looked on as the hardened battle veteran began to grapple with the beast that had came dangerously close to killing her. Although she was temporarily worried for the man's safety it was clear to see, given how easily the blonde-haired bartender had managed to gain the upper hand, that her concern was not necessary.

_Yeesh. He really does look like a video game character. I mean, Kara __**said **__he was weird looking but still. . ._

It didn't take long at all before The Black Dog's former teacher had managed to claim his victory as his skilled grappling and stretching overcame even the phenomenal muscular endurance of his opponent. Wiping a bead of sweat away from the rapidly regenerating skin upon his forehead, the squat fellow took a gander at Cecilia that appeared to hold a mixture of annoyance and respect.

"Bloody hell, li'l bit. Dinnit anyone tell ya that takin' off at a shot like that makes it a mite tricky to make sure you don't get yaself killed."

Cecilia found the time to shrug her shoulders before accepting Nigel's offer to help her to her feet. Noticing that Cizko had made his exit, she took a moment to shake her head back and forth in order to clear the cobwebs. Noticing that The Batman was injured but still quite alive, her body suddenly decided that there wasn't any more need to put on a pursuit and the archer slumped against the railing upon the catwalk.

"Sorry about that," Arrowette replied. "Just wanted to make sure that my boss knew that somebody had his back."

"It's good to know."

Cissie and Nigel both looked down as Bruce Wayne hefted himself to his feet, the strain of the effort clearly evident upon his tired features. The man's body armor had kept him alive but a quartet of gunshots was something that could hardly be shrugged off by even the sternest of stuff.

"Well, all the damage aside," Nigel said while brushing off some smatterings of gritty ash that had gathered upon his upper leg. "Got to say we did some damage to Vincent's operation with that, yeah?"

"Indeed we did," Batman replied. "However, it's also safe to say that this is a long ways from over."

* * *

_24,000 kilometers from the surface of Karbarra_

Hal had to admit that what he knew about the sole survivor of the Xanshi, a civilization all but wiped out by a series of terrorist actions performed by soldiers from a rival planet, was certainly lacking when he considered the severity of the circumstances at hand. Having learned that John Stewart had attempted but failed to prevent the destruction of Yrra Cyrnil's home world, the woman now know as Fatality had apparently made it her life's ambition to return the favor and wipe out the Green Lantern Corps in kind. She prepared for her task by training under some of the galaxy's greatest warriors, honing herself into what she frequently referred to as the perfect weapon. Though she had been a frequent thorn within the side of John and, later, Kyle Rayner, Hal had managed to avoid the phenomenal fighter driven mad by loss during his days as a Green Lantern.

Well, until now of course.

Still, despite the lack of past encounters, it was safe to say that Yrra Cyrnil thought of him as an enemy. She expressed that opinion with the aid of dozens of blasts that zigged and zagged through the blackness of space but ultimately headed straight for him. Hal was quick to respond in kind, the energy duel turning into nothing short of a vibrant chess match where the two experienced players intercepted each other's attacks while searching for an opening by attempting to anticipate the actions of their opponent. Green and Yellow Lanterns alike took significant efforts to give the both of them a wide berth, doubtlessly wishing to avoid being caught within the unique crossfire of jade and golden energy that quickly formed a palpable network of eldritch energy that burned with the intensity of its creators.

The sweat that would have normally formed upon Hal's brow with this kind of effort turned to steam as the rivulets of water quickly froze within the coldness of space before becoming superheated by the energy cocoon supplied by his power ring. It occurred to him that, under other circumstances, he probably would have taken the time to make some kind of smart aleck remark, perhaps even throwing out a flirtatious comment or two in an attempt to throw off Fatality's concentration. However, the combination of his still-clear memory of the agony on Guy's face and the sight of the blackened stump that was once his friend's right arm caused him to keep his trap shut and his mind focused on what needed to be done. So many people, including the irritable fellow Lantern, had given him the opportunity to do what he could to redeem himself for the crimes he had committed, offenses that most likely paled in comparison to Fatality's similar efforts to bring back what had been ruthlessly stolen from her.

His memories of another of those forgiving souls flashed within his mind as he began to make his way through the tightly woven field of energy that he and Fatality had created. His offenses against this one happened well before the tragedies of Coast City and his infection at the hands of Parallax, during a time when his desires to wrap himself within simple responsibilities prompted him to ignore the needs of the people he cared about and who cared for him in return. Though Ollie may have believed that this particular crime was in the past, Hal knew that he should have been there for Roy when the young man needed him the most. He knew that Roy had looked up to him, gave him more respect and adoration than he had ever deserved, and he responded by taking away the closest thing the boy had to a father and all but throwing him out into the dark temptations of Star City.

And now he was gone, a casualty of a war which he had a partial responsibility in creating. Gritting his teeth as a lance of energy burned into his left wrist, Hal pushed himself forward with the thought that he would never be able to make it up to the young man who had worked so hard to prove that he belonged. Creating an energy shield with his ring in order to ward off another series of blasts, he took a look at Fatality, another poor soul who sought vengeance for the horrors that had been thrust upon her at the uncaring hands of others. Was he any better than her? Did he deserve any of the breaks that had been bestowed upon him while this woman was left to drown within her sorrows while suffering from the manipulations of others?

He knew he couldn't answer that. Of course, that didn't stop him from slamming his left fist into Fatality's jaw, the roundhouse shot knocking the former disciple of the Warlords of Okaara into a figurative and literal loop. After all, he was well aware of the fact that he still had a great deal to do. He had long ago accepted that he had done a lot of things wrong and would probably continue to do so every now and again. However, that didn't mean that he had the right to throw away the hopes and wishes of those who still saw the good in him.

He knew that Roy would have never forgiven him for it if he did.

* * *

_Karbarra – 19.9 miles from Kartana Weapons Facility_

"Damn it, damn it, son of a bitch. Damn it, damn it, son of an ass. Damn it, damn it, shit of a fuck."

Roy had long stopped bothering to count the number of profane words that had passed through his lips while he doggedly made his way through the Karbarran desert. Each word seemed to give him an ever-brief shot of adrenaline as he trudged through the 115-degree heat, the stifling conditions of the desolate tundra continuing to force sweat from nearly every orifice that his body happened to be equipped with. Taking another measured sip of water from his makeshift canteen, the single father did his best to avoid the glaring blaze of the twin suns overhead as he continued towards his prize, taking additional strength in the tantalizing opportunity to tear some chunks out of the bastards who were responsible for putting him in this hellhole in the first place.

"Damn it, damn it, son of a bitch. Damn it, damn it, son of a cock. Damn it, damn it, spawn of a shit pickle."

The former Teen Titan knew that it was quite the lucky break that the _Sentinel's _escape pods happened to be located just several halls east of the craft's gun batteries. Once the ship's captain had announced that the damage caused by the Karbarrans' energy cannons had stretched the resources of the craft's energy core past the point of no return, the sharpshooter made certain to join the dozens of others on the ship who did not have the fortune to be able to survive in outer space upon the mad dash to their sole remaining source of safety. His pod managed to pull away just before the ship's fiery demise, the force of the explosion knocking his tiny vessel off course and sending him straight into what had become his current predicament.

He recognized, through his slowly dimming senses, that others may have chosen to do the supposedly brave and honorable thing and go down with the ship but, really, who would have thought that he'd have been stupid enough to do that?

"Damn it, damn it, son of a bitch. Damn it, damn it, fart of a fuck. Damn it, damn it, piss up a tree."

He took in a deep breath while once again plucking his binoculars free from its assigned pouch within his utility belt, the sweat slipping onto his eyelashes making it a chore to properly see through the lenses. Fiddling with the zooming equipment that Noah had pirated from what was once a Thangaarian weapon depot, Arsenal allowed himself a bit of a grin upon finally being able to catch sight of his destination. Still, as pleasing as the sight of his distant goal could have potentially been, the fact that it was still a long ways off worked quick to quash that crumb of anticipation.

"I'm an asshole. He's an asshole. E-yo e-yo, e-yo e-yo. I'm an ass. . ."

Roy felt his throat grow even drier, his eyes widening upon catching yet another unusual sight. In the distance, maybe a hundred yards away, was what appeared to be the wreckage of some kind of all-terrain vehicle. Rushing forward to inspect the damage, he wrinkled his nose at the stench of singed fur as a pair of Karbarrans lay dead near the wreckage, their massive, furry bodies punctured with a multitude of apertures that were about seven inches wide. The lack of spilled blood clued the sharpshooter in to the strong possibility that the wounds came from some kind of energy weapon, quite likely the Manhunters' plasma cannons. This deduction, in turn, lead him to hypothesize that the bodies must have been some part of the planet's defense forces. . .

_Oh what the hell am I doing! _Roy chastised his inner detective while hopping into the vehicle's cockpit. Despite the fact that the unusual means of transportation sported an impressive array of scratches and surface burns, the possibility that the vehicle was still operational was simply too much for him to pass up. Pressing a variety of buttons in the hopes of finding the ignition, Roy gave a brief prayer to whatever gods happened to be listening in the hopes that he didn't activate some kind of self-destruct sequence. Thankfully, and after nearly a dozen unsuccessful guesses, the frantic pull of a lever just above his head suddenly brought the engine to life. Wiping another collection of sweat that had cropped upon his forehead, he let out a relieved sigh upon discovering that it took far less guesswork for him to discover the steering mechanisms, a pair of circular levers situated just above his shoulders.

"Well, well," Roy said to himself as he began to steer the craft towards his destination. "My first time at a teddy bear's weapons plant. I bet they got some gooooood shit."

* * *

_Oa_

Now a strong 15,000 kilometers away from where she had taken several stiff shots of what proved to be some quality Rann-model alcohol, Stephanie had to admit that she found the task at hand to be a great deal more exhilarating. Green and golden sparks continued to fly as she and Amon Sur continued their single combat. Her customary energy claws extending from her metacarpals, Robin flashed her teeth in an almost giddy grin while she devoted all her skill into the task of slashing, gouging, or stabbing at whatever open body part that the Yellow Lantern happened to temporarily left open. Despite her sound battle tactics, her efforts continued to be impeded by the pair of golden energy swords that the son of Abin Sur had managed to create for himself. The alien's skill with the eldritch blades was plain to see as he parried, blocked, or swerved around the vast majority of her attacks while working to demonstrate his own impressive away of offensive maneuvers in return.

Stephanie found herself taking a momentary breather during the almost infinitesimal respite between exchanges, her small tongue finding its way through her lips as she worked to think of a way to win the day. It was bad enough that the guy, unlike most of the Yellow Lanterns she had ventilated on her way here, had clearly possessed some skill to go with the Qwardian power ring but the fact remained is that the guy also had time on his side. He hadn't been a factor in her big brother's precious little plan and she was well aware that this unexpected occurrence could be enough to put a major crimp on what Lloyd wanted to do. So, as she worked to duck under a thrust from the blade in Amon's left hand while blocking the man's other blade within the claws on her right hand, she decided to make another executive decision.

_And, hopefully, this executive decision won't lead me to getting executed._

_. . . . ._

_And thank God Lloyd wasn't here to hear that one. _

"Didn't your mother ever tell you now to bring swords to a claw fight?" Steph asked her focused opponent while the two of them continued to lock horns.

The Sinestro Corps general responded with a particularly nasty snarl as the two of them amplified their physical strength in their attempts to get the upper hand. "Don't think that any of your clever words are going to save you, pretender. I _will _avenge the crimes that I have been forced to endure at the hands of your people. My family. . . my people will once again know the honor of belonging."

Twisting her way around a double slash that came inches from severing her right arm clean off her shoulders, Stephanie was more than happy to take the available opportunity to rake her right claw across Amon's exposed back. Moving quickly again to avoid the angry lash that followed, her smile broadened as she managed to ensnare her opponent's other blade within the trio of claws upon her right hand. Bending her wrist at just the right angle to cause Amon to unwilling lurch forward, she caught the disgraced warrior with a stiff kick to the chin before almost ending the fight altogether with a lash of her left claw that came inches from tearing through the Yellow Lantern's throat.

"I just can't stand people who talk more than they should," Stephanie replied while Amon began to backpedal within the force bubble. Moving to the next step of her hastily created plan, she began to shift ground as well in order to tempt her foe into a long-distance affair. Amon followed her silent request almost to the letter, the alien warrior letting loose with a spray of yellow blasts that she managed to deflect and dodge with the aid of some quick thinking and a sturdy energy shield. Keeping the charade up by letting loose a smattering of spiraling blasts of green energy of her own, the young woman bided her time until she could find an opening.

_This one is going to hurt._

Acting against nearly every bit of good judgment she occasionally managed to bring to the table, the woman known as Robin moved forward. She let out a hiss as a spear of golden energy broke through the armor around her left shoulder, the heat of the blast causing her cape to be momentarily set ablaze. Using an awkward barrel roll to twist her way around a trio of shots aimed straight for her torso, she grit her teeth as she prepared for the inevitable as she came within 10 feet of her target.

Amon Sur was quick to do his part, letting loose with a lance of energy that tore straight into the left side of her chest. She could feel her blood freezing in the coldness of space as the phenomenal pain tore at her senses, the power of her ring momentarily shorting out due to the temporary loss of concentration. However, the sudden loss of air spurred her forward, her throat letting loose an animalistic scream as her stunned opponent worked to recover from his efforts to repulse her. However, he found himself a second to late as Stephanie closed the gap, wrapping her left arm limply around the alien's neck while placing her right hand directly upon his chest.

"Want to know why your daddy's ring never chose you?" Stephanie growled as blood spilled from the right side of his mouth. "You just didn't have the _heart_!"

Stephanie showed this to be true by summoning the energy in her ring to fire a massive blast that spit from the palm of her hand. Still weakened by the effort he had put into his attempt to halt the young woman's seemingly blind charge, his energy cocoon turned out to be no match for the destructive wave of energy that the young Green Lantern had brought to bear. Tearing through blood, bone, and muscle with the greatest of ease, Stephanie watched with a wicked smile as her shot passed straight through Amon Sur's chest. Taking a second to briefly savor her victory over the recently deceased Sinestro Corps general, she took a moment to look into the murderer's stunned stare before using her right hand to push Amon Sur away.

_Didn't have the heart. I am so cool._

As much as she wanted to revel in her triumph, her ring was quick to remind her that there was even more work to be done. In fact, she could almost feel the fireworks popping inside of her skull as her eldritch power source informed her of a massive energy distortion taking form only several miles away. The source of all the havoc appeared in the form of an immense transmat portal that appeared at the outside perimeter of the battlefield. An enormous figure, nearly three miles high, passed through the threshold almost immediately after it had appeared, the creature a great deal larger than the form it had taken during that fateful battle outside the ruins of Superman's first Fortress of Solitude. In fact, it now bore a stunning resemblance to its original form, a massive monster whose gargantuan form inspired far more fear than any god or imaginary monster that had ever existed.

The Anti-Monitor had arrived.

* * *

Kara tried hard not to wince as a Green Lantern was caught within the wide spray of heat vision she had just let loose in order to continue going even money with her persistent opponent. After all, the monster that had stolen the body of Kyle Rayner showed no such sympathy when his golden energy burned through Green and Yellow Lanterns that managed to get caught within his contribution to the ever-heightening crossfire and Kara knew enough to not allow her opponent to have that kind of advantage. Instead of allowing the guilt to overcome her, she allowed the unnecessary loss of life to stoke the fire of her anger to even greater heights, her body and soul feeling their power grow right along with it as she attacked Parallax with all the speed, power, and efficiency that she could muster. Spitting out a globule of blood that had trickled from her nose and slipped through her lips, the proud Kryptonian warrior took precedence over the doe-eyed innocent that had landed in Gotham City nearly three years ago.

She knew she couldn't be one or the other anymore. The world she protected deserved more than that. The people she cared for deserved more.

_She deserved more_.

_Just keep going_, she reminded herself as a rake of the monster's claws across her upper leg broke the surface of her tough skin. _Just keep fighting for just a little bit longer and you can have that peace again._

"Graceful creature, your fear of opportunities lost permeates every part of you," Parallax said as the two of them engaged in another stalemate within the hastily erected energy bubble. "No creature can hide their fear, Kara Zor-el, just as you cannot hide from the atrocities you have committed in the past. And I will envelop that terror, little Kryptonian. I will swallow it whole and bring your power to bear as I drown everything that lives within their fear. EVERY SOUL WILL BE MINE TO DEVOUR!"

A yellow beam of energy emerged from the beast's eyes, an attack countered at the last moment by Kara's heat vision as the mystic energy threatened to burn out the young woman's retinas. The two remained locked within their struggle for several long seconds, the intensity of the duel shattering the force bubble around them and causing the surrounding warriors to back away for fear of being caught within the ambient solar radiation. Having been robbed of the ability to tell her opponent how she felt with her words, Kara went ahead with her retort and hoped that Parallax was able to read lips.

"PISS OFF, WANKER!"

The knee strike that Kara delivered straight into Parallax's crotch, as satisfying as it was to do, was nothing but a set-up for the double-handed clubbing blow that sent the monster hurtling away from her. Letting out a huge, exhausted sigh, she could feel the ache in her bones and muscles as she worked to determine just how much time the attack had bought her. However, before she could come up with a firm hypothesis, a voice rang through her senses that made a great deal of her stress fade away.

"_We have broken the perimeter"_, John Stewart announced through the telepathic link. "_The Anti-Monitor has arrived and we are ready to move forward with the next part of the plan. The ball's in your court, Black Dog."_

"_Happy to run with it, Marine_," Lloyd replied, the response causing Kara's heart to flutter. "_Ya ready for this, pet?"_

She always hated it when he called her that. What was worse, of course, was that he was well aware of that since she had told him so on many an occasion. Of course, now that she really thought about it, the fact that she had so frequently complained about it was probably a big reason why he continued to do it.

_Just another thing I'm probably going to have to get used to_, Kara reminded herself. _Either that or I'll just pound on him until I convince him to stop_.

"_OI! YOU READY TO DO THIS OR WOT, LUV?"_

"_Absolutely_," Kara countered with a smile as she pushed herself forward. Every ounce of her waning energy was devoted to the task of getting to Lloyd, her velocity allowing her to streak through the cornucopia of blasts with relative ease. She had to admit that she had no idea of what would become of whatever the hell it was she shared with the man who had infuriated, charmed, annoyed, and become such an important part of what she was proud to be.

But now she wanted to find out. She wanted to tell him that.

But Lloyd was too busy chanting.

"_Qua illic est infirmitas una permissum lamino reperio suum vires in iunctum. Duos animes es unus. Duos es unus._

The two of them all but crashed into each other.

* * *

Parallax's efforts to make his way back to Kara came to a halt as the space in front of him exploded in a cavalcade of black and red sparks, the energy produced by the sudden collection of matter overloading the scanning mechanisms of his Qwardian ring. The gathering caused an infinitesimal black hole to be produced within the middle of the battlefield, an anomaly that would have doubtlessly caused the death of hundreds had it not been quickly sealed thanks to the spatial manipulation abilities of the being that had created it. As the intensity of the light died down and the creature at the center of it all allowed itself to be seen, Parallax recognized that it was neither the woman known as Kara Zor-el nor the man known as Lloyd Thomas. It was something far more dangerous, far more powerful. . .

And far more intriguing.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, we've successfully passed the halfway point of _Power Play_. The only question now is just how far past that halfway point we actually are. See, I just had so much fun with writing Batman's part in this issue that I actually had to cut a small portion of this chapter (weathers the angry reactions of Wally's fans). I would like to, someday, write an issue of this thing that actually comes close to matching the projected word count I set out for it before I start writing. Does anyone remember when these chapters used to be 5,000 or 6,000 words long instead of 8,000? Exactly _how_ could I possibly get more long-winded than I was when I started this thing?!

All kidding aside, thanks, as always, to those who continue to read and review. Here's hoping that Leigh is happy with the Batman stuff, Rachel is happy with the Kara and Lloyd stuff, Wolvbmb is happy with the Hal stuff, PoC is happy with the Roy stuff, and that Ryan and Captain Deadpool are as pleased as punch with all the bloodthirsty violence and battlefield banter. I do aim to please, after all. For example, for those few who are looking for a next issue preview. . . here it comes now!

* * *

Issue #67 Preview

Well, things on Earth are starting to cool down but rest assured that the action on and around Karbarra is about to spend a few days in the summer sun. We've got Roy pulling a one-man siege upon the Kartara weapon facility while Wally's looking to exercise his creativity in order to find a way to get his hands on Hank Henshaw. Oh, and let's not forget about Oa and the main events over there. We've got the fused form of Kara and Lloyd taking on Parallax and the first round of Stephanie versus The Anti-Monitor. . . Hey! Wait a sec. . . Just how in the hell is Steph supposed to take on the freakin' Anti-Monitor? Watch the body count rise in the eighth part of _Power Play _and the 67th installment of _The Misfits_: Acceptable Losses. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	67. Acceptable Losses

Issue #67

Issue #67

Acceptable Losses

_Karbarra – Kartana Weapons Facility_

"Sir, the immense amount of feedback produced by the first round of cannon fire nearly overloaded the output generators. Another series, particularly one so soon after the last, could result in irreparable damage to the facility itself."

Leokar Kurkosaw regarded his subordinate with a contemptuous air that permeated nearly every bit of his hairy, massive frame. Letting loose a snort of derision that caused small rivulets of mucus to escape from the nostrils that lined his trunk, the once-distinguished former prison warden and military officer calmed his quick temper once again with the thoughts of what was to become of him. He had been promised by Sinestro himself that his stay upon this fetid hellhole would be temporary, a small but necessary step before his triumphant return to his rightful place in the universal society. The fact that those he would be asked to watch over hypocrites instead of murderers meant very little to him. Every one of them, as far as he was concerned, had earned the right to be punished for their transgressions.

"You act as if I should care the slightest for the welfare of this evolutionary floatsam," Kurkosaw grumbled with what could easily be considered to be a guttural growl. Standing nearly nine feet tall and nearly half as wide, his muscular frame was tightly ensconced within his former work uniform, garments earned from decades of carrying out his brutal but necessary work. The wicked scar that ran down the right side of his face, yet another souvenir from his just and blood-soaked past, created a sharp contrast from the deep grays of his coarse fur and the leathery skin underneath it. "Show some honor for the power you represent, stripling."

The aforementioned stripling, a young hiveling from the Fortuna system, involuntary broke into a stumble before finding the nerve to speak again. "Y. .y. .y. .y. . yes, sir. Perhaps if. . . perhaps if we devote more of the prisoners to the task of rerouting the energy circuits."

Kurkosaw smiled, the sight of the Sinestro Corps general's pointed fangs causing even more nervousness to pour forth from the younger Lantern's features. "That sounds like quite the clever decision," he smoothly replied. "And, of course, if they don't feel up to completing our orders then we shall simply play our trump card once again. Remember, young Powaltik, we cannot allow ourselves to rely on the cyborg and his robots to defend this ball of mud."

Powaltik, who was blessed with the intelligence to be aware of the consequences that came with disputing the plans of his superior officer, decided to deliver some good news instead. "Well, under optimum conditions, we should be able to prepare the generators for another concentrated blast in another 2.2 corutechs."

Kurkosaw nodded, his massive face slowly tilting up and down with the gesture. "So victory will be ours in 30 minutes time then. And this time, of course, there will be no need to spare Henshaw and his ilk from the might of this impressive technology." The brute ran his large, weathered hands against one another, clearly enjoying the thought of ridding himself of yet another sore upon society. "I shall personally supervise the repairs while you and The Manhunters continue to watch over our. . . younger guests."

"Of course, sir," Powaltik replied to Kurkosaw's back, the young Fortunian realizing that the ruthless soldier clearly cared little for whatever he had to say to him. A thin sliver of his thoughts asked the rest of him if he wished to truly go through with this, to continue on the path that would result in the deaths of countless creatures. However, as much as his heart questioned his actions, his fear-ridden mind, the same mentality that empowered the ring strapped to the thin strip of bone and flesh that served as his right index finger, convinced him to move forward. He knew had no other choice if he wanted to be something other than the weakling he had been before Sinestro had found him.

Still, as fate would have it, the battle for Powaltik's soul, as tragic as it was, also left the soul's owner wide open for the tranquilizer dart that pierced his neck.

Roy was rappelling his way down from the high ceiling even before the alien finished his limp descent to the ground. Although the speed of the drop was sufficiently buffered by the torque within his zip line, the red-haired sharpshooter still found himself having a hard time adjusting to the added gravity and heat that came along with it. Still, his trip was smooth, fluid, and a far cry from the bumpy road that he had been treated to previously courtesy of the Karbarran vehicle he had managed to ditch about a mile back. It was a testament to Arsenal's professionalism and skill that he was able to pull off such a masterful display of stealth and subterfuge after such an arduous journey, proof that the man had come a long way from the shiftless, testosterone-fueled youngster that seemed to take so much pride in putting his own friends and loved ones through hell.

Then he got stuck about five feet from the ground, the sudden stop causing a highly noticeable whine as wire slid against the metallic gaskets within the barrel of his grappling gun.

"Oh, come _on_!"

The one person who could possibly save the Karbarran people and ensure the safety of over 3,000 members of the distinguished Green Lantern Crops continued to hang upside down like a living piñata. Taking a few seconds to try to find a way out of his bizarre little predicament, Roy finally got tired of trying to be intelligent and decided to use simple physics. Freeing the knife that was safely strapped within his boot holster, he let the dagger fly with a well-practiced motion that allowed the blade to easily cut through the line and allow him to plummet to the ground. Of course, the combination of the short fall and the awkward angle ended up with him landing ass first onto the warm, metal floor but, hey, who was he to complain?

"That's it," he grumbled while hefting himself to his feet, "I've really got to get around to asking Dick just how he and Batsie use these damn things," he added as he rose to his feet while angrily yanking the remnants of his zip line free from his belt. As pissed off as he was by the whole embarrassing scene, Roy also knew that there were more important things to be worried about.

The unconscious guy who just happened to be holding one of the universe's most powerful weapons, for example.

_Now I've got myself a bit of a dilemma_, Roy reminded himself while hunkering down to take a closer look at his objective and the person who held it. _If I kill this nice fella then the ring is going to just go off and find another heir. Of course, that somebody is probably not going to be me and that would just suck. On the other hand, just taking the ring off the guy's finger wouldn't do me a bit of good since Johnnie boy told us that these things were rigged to detonate if they were taken off the hand of the person who possessed it. _

Roy quirked his head to one side, investigating Powaltik with a curious eye while dragging the both of them off to the shadows. _Sooo. . . the obvious solution is to somehow keep the guy alive and keep the ring on this guy's person while I still have access to the ring but how. HOWWWWWWW!!_

Oliver Queen's first student brightened his smile once again as if he had just come up with some ingenious answer rather than an uncomplicated rejoinder his brain had discovered well before now. Reaching into yet another holster strapped to the utility belt wrapped around his waist, the fingers on his left hand enfolded the hilt of an extended Bowie knife, its 12-inch blade glinting with the sunbeams that poked through the narrow gaps in the walls. While he was doing this, his left index trigger squeezed off another trio of shots that pierced other parts of the young Sinestro Corps soldier that wasn't covered by his flashy yellow-and-black outfit. The shots injected the already unconscious trooper with enough tranquilizing agents to knock out a pair of elephants, thus allowing him to easily go through the next part of his plan. Slipping the muzzled pistol back into its assigned holster, Roy employed his now unencumbered left hand in order to gently place the other man's right wrist flat upon the floor, the yellow Qwardian ring calling to the Misfit with its own siren's song.

"All right, binky boy," Roy said just before taking a deep breath. "This'll only hurt for a lot."

* * *

_2,500 kilometers from Karbarra's outer ionosphere_

Victor Fries found himself becoming increasingly irritated by the current state of affairs. However, the major source of his troubles did not come from anything that Henshaw's enormous battle craft had in store for him. No, that honor belonged to his first officer, a fellow whose ideas were quickly twisting into demands with each passing occasion.

"We need to get on that ship!" The Flash insisted with a concentrated bark that punched through Wally's tightened teeth. "Freeze, we can't let these bastards get away with this and we sure as shit can't wait until whoever it is on that planet decides to open fire again!"

Fries took a moment to scan what few facial features he could make out through the speedster's crimson mask. He paid a particular amount of attention to the watermarks that moistened the kinetically absorbent material that covered the man's forehead and the little space just underneath Wally's eyes.

He wanted to offer sympathy for the young man's loss. Truly he did. However, he also recognized that there were more lives at stake within this skirmish than those that had already been lost. It had been put upon him by The Batman, Miss Savage, and The Black Dog to use what he had been given in order to reduce the pain of the living as much as he could.

"As much as I understand your need for vengeance, Flash, I cannot gamble the lives of those on this ship on the chance that the architect of the Coast City massacre will show mercy and allow us to pass him by."

Wally, despite his anger, could recognize that the reply was a sound mix of empathy and logic, two argumentative elements he normally enjoyed having around in a discussion like this. However, that didn't help him steer around the fact that not only was The Big Whale still a good distance behind the bulk of the surviving convoy but he also wasn't getting any closer to an opportunity to pay back the bastards who had killed one of his dearest friends. Presuming that such an argument would not sway the older man's opinion, he shook his head back and forth in frustration while charging the ample stocks of kinetic energy stored within his deceptively powerful frame.

"It's just like Uncle Barry always said," Wally recalled while yellow lightning once again whirled around his body. "If you want a job done right then you have to do something stupid yourself."

The Flash was certain that Fries had asked either "What are you doing?" or "What do you mean?" as he began to move. Of course, there was quite a bit lost in translation thanks to the fact that he was on the other side of the ship by the time his blue-skinned fellow had managed to get the first syllable out. He gave up his guessing game rather quickly as he leapt, swerved, and passed his almost impossibly wispy form through the several dozen Green Lanterns and various other personnel that came into his path, his near unparalleled dexterity allowing him to avoid any physical contact or transference of ambient kinetic energy with a well-practiced ease.

_Thirty-nine laps around the ship's belly will give me the time to get up to half-light speed_, he calculated while his body pushed its way through laps seven, eight, and nine. _According to the ship's schematics, that's the highest velocity I can achieve without overloading The Big Whale's internal workings. _

He finished up his 21st lap with a flourish, his speed and energy output startling many of those he passed by or through as he continued to move.

_Both of the ships use plasma-powered weaponry, which means I'm going to have to vibrate my molecules at a speed of at least 4,000 times a second if I want to avoid getting fried or frozen. _

He could feel the familiar quivering of his heart as his 35th lap came to a close, his velocity quickly approaching the halfway point of his maximum ability. The inhuman effort, just as it had before, caused time itself to momentarily warp around him. Linda had often compared the feeling to watching time go backwards, as if you couldn't believe that you were moving that quickly so your mind had to assume that you were just seeing things it had already seen.

On the other hand, after experiencing the sensation himself, one Bruce Wayne had chosen to respond by spouting out a litany of quantum physics theories that he and Barry had doubtlessly quarreled over time and time again within their little campground beneath The Flash Museum.

_Hard to believe that such a big fan of The Beatles wouldn't have an ounce of poetry in him_, Wally contemplated as he made his 37th revolution. . . thirty-eight. . .

_And here. . . we. . . go!_

His almost impossibly sharp left turn sent a trio of bulkheads tumbling over, the sparks from the bowels of the ship doubtlessly arousing the attentions of the aft gunners who were busying themselves with trying to bat Henshaw's ship away from their path. His body now at a density that made him appear nearly invisible to the naked eye, he became nothing more than a ghost whose intentions were as clear as the glow in his forest-green eyes. The sight of Mister Freeze standing on the bridge was nothing but an afterthought as he transferred an infinitesimal portion of force into his leg muscles in preparation for the task at hand. Leaping through the air with the greatest of ease, his body effortlessly passed through the super-hardened transparent material at the front of the bridge before being cast into the hectic space that surrounded The Big Whale.

His body passed through three lasers, two of them blasts from Henshaw's ship and one a stray shot from an Oa power ring, before he began to whirl his arms at nearly seven times the speed of sound. The infinitesimal amount of force produced by Wally's impossibly thin molecules enabled him to steer his way through the lack of gravity that his current environment had to offer him. The precise manipulation of every portion of his body allowed him to find just the right intangible state that would enable him to pass through not only the energy shielding of Henshaw's ship but also the dense metal alloys that had been employed to protect the craft from the rigors of space. Sending a Yellow Lantern tumbling to the floor as he greatly reduced the vibrational speed of his molecules, he found himself having to make a mere three laps around the bridge before he could slow himself down to the point where he could slide to a stop right in front of the startled Cyborg Superman.

"Howdy."

* * *

_Oa_

As you bear witness to the phenomenal display of carnage taking place on this expansive battlefield, perhaps it would be wise if you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of simple mathematics.

Seven more members of The Sinestro Corps could do nothing as a sheer wave of energy washed over and through them, the phenomenal intensity of the beam incinerating their bodies at the very molecule. The creator of the flare quickly swept its way through what little remained of its victims, their silver-blue eyes emblazoned with malicious but still calculated intent.

We begin with two young warriors, an Earthling male who shares his body with the soul of one of the most powerful greater demons to ever exist upon this plane of reality and a half-Kryptonian, half-Praxian female who has been conditioned to evolve into the most powerful example of her once vigorous races. Phenomenally strong and capable fighters in their own right, their minds, bodies, and souls have been fused with the aid of an ancient ritual concocted by a parasitic race of aliens originating from a galaxy nearly a dozen light years apart from the center of The Milky Way.

Wielding the gleaming silver saber in their left hand with almost effortless efficiency, the beast masking as Kara Zor-el had no trouble at all deflecting dozens of golden orbs of energy in just under a second. The response to the multidirectional flurry was a great deal more potent, a crimson shockwave that tore the flesh off the bones of anyone within a 25-meter radius that just happened to be wearing a Qwardian power ring. Those who managed to avoid the first rejoinder could do next to nothing as the fair-haired whirlwind tore into them, more and more lives being snuffed out in a matter of a few hellish moments.

Consider that, at the time of their original fusion, Kara Zor-el and Lloyd Thomas had the power to defeat one of the most renowned and powerful heroes in history with an almost ridiculous ease. Now add in the two years that had passed since that fateful battle above the tundra of northern Antarctica, days and weeks where, more often than not, the two warriors had trained to become stronger, faster, and more efficient with their impressive array of strengths, skills and abilities.

John Stewart didn't even bother hiding his surprise while he continued to witness the events that caused dozens of Qwardian power rings to abandon the corpses of their former owners in order to seek their new inheritors. Graf Toren, on the other hand, had more than enough reserve to go about organizing his fellow Corps members in gathering the retreating baubles as he ordered his subordinates to continue encasing the powerful weapons within jade energy bubbles. Just as The Black Dog had anticipated, the wall created by the Green Lantern Corps members that had breached the outside perimeter of the battlefield had helped form a potent pincer formation that kept the Yellow Lanterns who attempted to escape their fate from doing so. And, judging from the frightening efficiency of the fused creature that continued to tear through one Sinestro Corps member after the other, the veteran space warrior was fairly certain that The Batman's strongest warriors were fairly capable of fulfilling his end of their bargain.

Still, as stunned as the former Marine Corps officer may be, let us return to the original mathematical conundrum. Keeping the previously mentioned combination of variables in mind, let us throw in the inclusion of a battlefield that was far more durable than the wilderness several hundred miles north of Earth's South Pole along with the corresponding lack of having to bottle in the nearly unfathomable power the duo had at their disposal. Now, after considering each and every one of these factors in tandem, it should be quite easy to understand just why The Black Dog had chosen to employ this particular maneuver as his trump card.

"We would have normally went ahead and referred to you as lambs to the slaughter," the fused warrior pointed out while absorbing the energy of the Sinestro Corps members who could work up the courage to actually mount an offensive, "but that would be insulting actual sheep."

The two of them laughed as they continued to employ its spatial manipulation abilities in order to create oxygen within the cold nothingness of space. "Honestly? Is this the force that is meant to supplement the fear within the souls of all that lives? All of you would have been better off with broadcasting a Chris Kattan film festival!"

More and more Yellow Lanterns found themselves overcome by their own fear as the corpses of their colleagues burned and froze around them. Those that remained alive had never been stronger, their own dread fueling the fire that had been sparked by the rings that Sinestro had bequeathed to them, but the newfound energy meant nothing at all in the eyes of their hunter.

_Ya holdin' up all right? _Lloyd asked his partner while they ran his blade through the heart of one of their dwindling supply of foes. The spray of black blood momentarily took the opportunity to sully Kara's clothes before the chill of space froze the liquid's circulation in its chaotic tracks.

_I'm just fine,_ Kara replied while throwing in an enhanced blast of heat vision into the proceedings. _Of course. . . you already know that. Y'know, 'cause we're sharing the same body and all._

_Quite so, quite so_, Lloyd replied. _Just remember that this is all another part of the plan, luv. We keep goin' like this and we can put an end to it all in one fell swoop._

Kara unconsciously nodded as she once again took the wheels of their combined engine of destruction. Snagging the arm of an unfortunate Yellow Lantern that happened to get a little too close to them, she quickly employed the three-tusked creature as both a weapon and a shield that allowed her to take down another quartet of their antagonists. _I know that, Lloyd. And I know that we can do this together. We can._

There was a brief but noticeable pause as Kara and Lloyd both decided to take the time to feel through the meaning behind the words. It was just long enough for the two of them to be pelted with nearly a hundred energy blasts, the force of the combined impacts resulting in several cracked ribs that patched themselves together almost immediately after the injuries had occurred. Their counterattack, though detached and not fully thought out, tore into many of the surviving Sinestro Corps, tempting those who remained alive to offer some serious consideration toward the idea of once again trying to get past the hundreds of Green Lanterns that awaited them at the other side of the battlefield.

_I'm. . . I'm not going to look into your thoughts,_ Lloyd said almost shyly. _I'll wait for you to tell me what you want to do. You. . . you deserve that._

Kara felt her half of their combined innards cinch up.

Why did she believe that her pain was his responsibility? No, she already knew the answer to that question. It was because that was the easiest solution. It was so simple to turn your fear into something that could destroy. Her father had taught her that with every relationship he ever had, each of which he used as nothing more than stepping stones to greater fame, fortune, and personal glory as he dismissed whatever unfortunate fate fell upon those he had to trample over.

It was another thing altogether to use your fears to build something for someone else. Perhaps Sinestro truly did want to create a peaceful reality governed by stern actions and declarations in the name of law and order. Of course, she also knew enough to realize that, given the evidence provided by Sinestro's efforts to gain control of his own homeland, there was little guarantee that personal freedoms and the right to grow would come with such stability.

_We all have the right to choose what we want to do with our lives, for better or worse. For example, I can sit here and__ philosophize about morality rather than work up the courage to say I'm sorry to someone I may or may not be in love with_, she thought rather crossly_. Or to worry about whether or not that person may or may not love me. Or to. . ._

"_OI, KARE BEAR! WE GOT A BATTLE FOR GALACTIC FREEDOM GOING ON HERE!!"_

Kara could almost feel her very soul give off a jolt as she turned her attention back to the task at hand. It was good that she did, given that Parallax was streaking its way towards them, its many teeth set into a hideous snarl as it moved to finish the job that its soldiers could not.

* * *

Ensnaring another pair of Qwardian rings within a well-placed force bubble, John Stewart almost ignored the stern, professional instincts that had been drilled into him since his days at Quantico. He had to admit that the exhibition being put forth by the warrior at the center of it all was quite the show indeed. The two of them had, on their own and within a matter of only minutes, caused more casualties among the members of The Sinestro Corps than had been tallied throughout the entire attempted invasion of Oa and they looked to be well on their way to padding their score.

Of course, not everything was sunshine and roses. The news from the outer edge of the battlefield was all that he needed to be reminded of that.

"_Alpha Units 4, 7, 9, and 11 are engaging the Anti-Monitor_," reported a Green Lantern Corps colonel whose name slipped John's already busy mind. _"Preliminary readings report a dense combination of anti-matter and eldritch energy but no matching signatures gathered during previous encounters with the creature."_

John let out one of his frequent frowns as he busied himself with preventing another Qwardian power ring from escaping. Although a temporary reprieve from Corps duty had kept him out of the effort of repelling The Anti-Monitor's first reign of terror, the long-time soldier was well aware of what had occurred and what the malignant entity was capable of. His mind flickered back to the diligence Kara displayed in her belief that the towering Sinestro Corps general was not what it claimed to be and the confusing energy readings added some strength to the young woman's theory.

_But there are still a lot of reasons why it could be the genuine article_, he reminded himself while using a ring-created energy cannon to punch a hole through the chest of a Sinestro Corps member who was desperately attempting to force her way through the wall he and his fellow Green Lanterns had managed to create. _The cloaking effects of the Qwardian power rings, the unstable nature of the anti-matter universe. . . maybe it's nothing more than evolution._

"_Alpha attack units require assistance!" _exclaimed the still unfamiliar Green Lantern Corps colonel, the male's voice taking on a significant tinge of oncoming panic. _"We can't stop this monster!" _

The grimace on John's face deepened even further upon hearing the news. However, as much as he wanted to rush to the aid of his colleagues, he also knew that he had a mission to complete. It was up to him, Graf Toren, and the troops the both of them commanded to prevent the further proliferation of The Sinestro Corps.

The rest was up to Stephanie.

_Heaven help us._

"For the love of Brad Pitt in a speedo," Stephanie bellowed through the Corps' neural network, "could you twits listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth?!"

Her cantankerous request went almost completely unnoticed by the other Lanterns that had been assigned to take on The Anti-Monitor when and if the beast arrived in Oa's stellar space. Of course, their response to Robin's unkindly request could very well have been due to having to avoid the monster's attempts to demolecularize them with a series of anti-matter energy bolts that poured forth from the colossal creature's eyes and fingertips. It was safe to say, considering the previously gathered evidence, that whatever protection their rings had to offer couldn't hold up to whatever the so-called Devourer of All had to offer, the purplish-black flares superheating the sky around them as many of them escaped by a literal hair's breadth.

"_I can get us through this!" _Robin stressed once again as she swerved around another of the creature's dangerous offerings. _"I've helped handle this thing before and I can do it again! We don't have to stop him! We just have to make sure that the big guy doesn't make it to our perimeter wall."_

One could say that she got a bit more of a response this time around. Of course, that same one would also have to admit that several frantic protests concerning her rank and authority was not exactly what the blue-eyed Gothamite was looking for.

_This is why I'm not a good leader_, she grumbled to herself. _There's just too many people out there who hate it when they find out I'm always right_.

Wisely deciding not to ponder over what Bruce or Lloyd would have said to such a remark, Stephanie quickly abandoned all efforts at controlling her fellow soldiers and pitched headlong into the increasingly hectic battleground. She wasn't the least bit surprised to find that she was infinitely more comfortable with her self-assigned role, the anarchy of the fight sparking that strong part of her heart that seemed to always be asking for trouble. She still knew that there was something she might have been able to do to help her fellow Lanterns survive but there was nothing that she could do to change the intentions of her opponent. To get rid of a maybe in order to claim a certainty was something she almost always found rather comforting.

"_Little Stephanie. Nothing but a frightened little stripling looking to create her own little world while ignoring or trying to eliminate anything that might interfere with your creation." _

Robin wished she could say that she was shocked by the jeering that was rattling about in her cranium. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that the strength of Checkmate's neural shielding would do little to keep something as powerful as The Anti-Monitor at bay. On the other hand, it did seem as if the defenses were enough to allow her to keep her wits but that didn't stop the dark whispers from washing over her as she surged forward. Riding the hisses and bitter words like waves, she drowned the creature's bony face and jagged teeth with an immense wave of jade energy. Yes, the torrent may have not done any lasting damage but the exhibition did make her feel a little bit better.

"_Do you know how many of your kind have fallen at my hands, little one? How many of these baubles I could have claimed during my endeavors to create the perfect nonexistence? That ring you clutch within your tiny hands is nothing more than a symbol of your pathetic attempts to mimic my designs."_

Two more of her fellow Lanterns fell to the beast's wrath while The Anti-Monitor allowed her the time to digest its words. She kept her eyes on the silent scream frozen on the face of the corpse to her left, a Perytonian bull beast that had asked her out for coffee after her first day at basic training with Kilowog. Her fear that she could do nothing to avoid losing more of what she cared for began to gnaw at her insides once again, just as it had while her mangled face had attempted to put itself back together again when she rushed at this creature 23 months ago. She could almost feel the curdling of the skin on her left cheek, the sudden impulsive inkling that she wouldn't make it back alive, and the dark little hint of excitement that came from the possibility of doing something that would genuinely count.

And then she realized it.

_God damn it. Why does the puppy always have to be right?_

"_You know something, high pockets?" she fired back with a grin. "I've just stumbled upon my own little epiphany. Care to hear it?"_

The monster didn't even seem the least bit phased as it considered the young woman's offer, the efforts to do battle with the dozens of Green Lanterns buzzing around it looking more like a wildebeest swinging its tail about to get rid of troublesome gnats. In fact, it managed to swat three more of its aggressors aside with an enormous round of energy that flowed from its eye sockets, the husks of his targets being briefly broiled alive before demolecularizing into nothing at all.

"_And why should I care for the revelations of the dying, little Stephanie?" _

"_Awwww, don't be like that," _Robin replied while letting loose with a solar flare that exploded directly in front of the creature's eyes. _"I mean, I'm pretty proud of this little deduction of mine. Granted, it was pretty much Kara and Lloyd's theory but Batsie's always telling me that I need to be a better detective and I'm pretty happy about the fact that I just figured this all out!"_

"_Very well," _The Anti-Monitor relented as its mighty hand brushed aside a platoon of Lanterns that were attempting to assault it from the right_. "Feel free to indulge in your paltry desires before I put an end to your existence."_

"_Well, that's hardly the nicest invitation I've ever received," _Stephanie admitted as she peppered her foe with a series of spiral blasts, _"but I guess I'll take it. See, it just occurred to me that you haven't made any mention of the last time we laid smack down on you and, judging from all that time you spent bitching about losing the last time, that's pretty surprising. Also, your energy signature doesn't even come close to matching the one I picked up during that aforementioned fight and, believe me, something that icky is pretty damn hard to forget. And. . . throw in the fact that you're currently siding with The Sinestro Corps, a group that wants to control the universe rather than destroy it, and that leads me to one confident little conclusion!"_

"_Which is?" _the monster asked with a growl.

"_You're not the Anti-Monitor, snacky," _Stephanie finished up with a vicious grin. _"And now we're one step closer to winning this fight and figurin' all this shit out!"_

* * *

_Karbarra Airspace – Qwardian Battleship 4AH_

_What is it about alien ships, long hallways, and dozens of rooms that look exactly the same, _Wally thought as another pair of bulkheads shattered into shards of metal and rubber behind him. A pair of Manhunters rushed into his sights a mere fraction of a second later, their plasma cannons already primed and ready to miss him by a mile. He would have, had he the time and was in a better mood, ripped the arm off of one of them in order to beat down the other but a blast of heat vision reminded him that he had better things to do. Instead, he merely allowed the purple shots of energy to pass through his body before upping his velocity once again as he continued to employ his intangibility in order to give him a necessary edge over his attentive pursuers.

More and more of the androids were beginning to join in on the merry hunt now, their own efforts being no more effective than what the Manhunters had to offer. Jaunting and weaving his way around, over, under, and through every attempt being made to kill him, Wally's phenomenal speed and the skill in which he brought it to bear made it look as if everything else was standing still. Of course, that didn't stop these supposedly solitary objects from doing its own share of damage, the might of the various projectiles creating additional havoc to go with the damage already being wrought by The Big Whale's weaponry.

A loud _CRASH _and the fact that he was being hurtled against the western wall of the ship brought The Flash's attention back to his real target, the only other creature on the ship who could have possibly kept pace with him. Ironically enough, the person behind the largest individual share of the recent and ongoing destruction was the one monstrosity in charge of making sure the ship remained safe. Of course, as he quickly recovered his feet by running up the side of the wall that his opponent tried to chuck him into, Wally only needed to take one look at the clear cut hatred showing on both halves of Henshaw's face to realize that only a complete fool would choose to point that out to him.

"You do realize that you're trashing your own ship, right?" Wally asked just after skidding to a stop. "I mean, it's nice that you're pulling out all the stops just so you can entertain me, but, really, this is just too much."

The Cyborg Superman stood amongst the rubble of the wall he had barreled his way through just a few seconds before, the Sinestro Corps general allowing his anger to bubble as a dozen Manhunters rushed in to come to his supposed aid. Their assistance was both unwanted and, seeing as how the crimson-garbed twit continued to effortlessly avoid everything his collaborators had to throw at him, completely useless. However, that didn't stop Henshaw from casually observing the display before him.

_This one can't help you_ _find what you seek_, the former astronaut ruefully reminded himself. _He is nothing more than another obstacle, one that I shall overcome._

_WHAP!_

The sonic boom that erupted from the force of Henshaw blocking The Flash's punch sent the majority of The Manhunters tumbling over. Taking a moment to silently order his troopers to devote their energies towards the task of taking on The Big Whale, The Cyborg Superman did not even stumble for a step as The Flash backpedaled before retreating once again. The widower was quick to pursue, crashing his way through material ten times the strength of steel as easily as a normal human would have been able to break through a wall of tissue paper. The sparks and shards that flew from the multiple impact zones didn't do the least bit of harm to his nearly impregnable frame, the superheated material just another impediment as his cybernetic mind provided him with data concerning each and every individual frequency on the electromagnetic spectrum.

The Flash let out a hiss as another blast of heat vision broke through his phasing and burnt into his shoulder. The combination of his unstable molecules and the fact that it was just a glancing blow were the only things that allowed him to keep his arm but those gifts didn't keep him from madly tumbling over. The pain continued to course through him as his speeding body rolled straight into an unfortunate computer terminal that just happened to be in the way, the shower of sparks that rained upon him mixing with the sporadic electricity that was circulating around his prone body. The split-second Wally needed to recover himself was more than enough time for Henshaw to ensnare him within his impossibly strong grip, The Cyborg's metallic tendons giving off an audible whine as The Flash struggled to break the hold.

"You always were nothing but a nuisance, Wallace West," Henshaw all but growled as The Flash's struggles began to diminish. "An insect long overdue for extermination."

Henshaw let out an unwilling gasp as a fist traveling at Mach 9 crashed into his chest, the immensely dense cartilage punching its way through his metallic frame. Now it was his turn to struggle as his body began to vibrate violently and his structural integrity began to break down.

"I don't really see myself as an insect," The Flash replied with a blood-tinged smile as his feet hit the floor again. "More like a surprisingly charming Venus fly trap."

Golden lightning and scarlet sparks seemed to defiantly spit at one another as The Flash and The Cyborg fought to maintain control, the differing thirsts for revenge and destruction quenching one another while immediately asking for more.

"Kent's already tried to kill me this way," Henshaw pointed out with a hideous smile. "It didn't work then and it certainly isn't going to work now."

There was a brief pause as The Flash removed his fist from Henshaw's chest. Meanwhile, The Cyborg cut the power from his optic lenses, reducing his standing blast of heat vision to nothing more than a calm, crimson glare. The stalemate continued to drag for a moment as Wally casually brushed off some imaginary dust off of his throbbing bicep while Henshaw worked out an equally invented kink in his neck.

"All right," Wally reasoned. "Then let's play a new game. Same as the old game."

He dashed off again, knowing that The Cyborg would be quick to follow.

* * *

_Gotham – Thomas Wayne Clinic_

Dick was greeted with a tired but playful smile as he cautiously stepped into the cramped but suddenly single room. The former Robin was well aware that Leslie was not big on the idea of wasted space but he also knew that the room's only occupant had a tendency to go to quite the extraordinary lengths to get what she wanted.

"You know, given that I've spent so much time as a patient here, you'd figure that I'd get a bit more of the preferential treatment."

Dick replied with a smirk of his own as he leaned against the small bed. "You know, you just set yourself up for a very cheap free clinic joke," he pointed out as a mischievous twinkle sparked within his deep, blue eyes. "It's a good thing that I don't like to take advantage of the injured."

Selina raised a perplexed eyebrow while retracing her conversational steps. "Preferential treatment. . . so much ti. . . _ah!" _she realized before setting her face in a frown. "Wow, I must really be out of it if I could just go and fall into that little cat trap," the gorgeous former thief admitted before momentarily losing herself in the task of stretching her aching body as much as her current circumstances would allow her. "Still, I suppose I should thank you for your chivalry."

"Don't mention it," Dick replied with a bit more seriousness than Selina had guessed would be coming. "I mean it. Don't mention it 'cause Cissie and Stephanie would never let me hear the end of it if they heard that I didn't take the opportunity."

Selina chuckled, the combination of her fatigue and the effects of the pain medication coursing through her bloodstream making it sound like a remarkably strained series of gasps. "Always did like those little brats," she confessed while laying her right hand across the back of her reclining head. "So what did the good doctor say about my prognosis? Will I ever be able to fulfill my dreams of becoming a cross country skier?"

Nightwing did his own bit of chortling while gently thumping the cast around Selina's right leg. "She says that you'll make it," he replied before growing serious once again, a transition that caused Catwoman to roll her eyes in an overly dramatic fashion. "Selina, I am so sorry. . ."

"Stop it! Stop it right there, Boy Blunder!" Selina almost spat out while waving a defiant palm in front of Dick's face. "I don't need to hear an apology, especially one that's that broody." She let out a heavy sigh as Nightwing hastily shut his mouth, her head shaking back and forth as if she couldn't believe she had to deal with yet another stupid male. "I swear, that dog shit didn't work for your old man so it's certainly not going to work for you."

The state of Nightwing's countenance quickly changed from "Open Mouth" to "Wide Open Eyes".

"He _apologizes_? You mean he can actually do that?"

Selina gave the man a seemingly earnest nod. "Believe me. I was surprised too. Still, that didn't stop him from chasing me all over again."

"So. . . mission accomplished?"

Catwoman couldn't help but let out a purr before she put her thoughts into words. "You were amazing tonight, Richard. And if you still don't think you'll set the world on fire wherever you end up then let me know so I can scratch your eyes out."

Dick momentarily felt tempted to take the hand that Selina had left stretched out for him. "But what if I guess wrong again? What if I make another mistake?"

The woman who had entranced Dick's father for nearly two decades did her best to hide any scorn or ridicule that could have appeared upon her bushed but still beautiful features. "We all screw up, Dickie. We've all got the possibility to make the right or the wrong decisions in our lives. Believe me 'cause I've done a whole lot of both in my time. Still, one of the few things I know for certain about this crazy ass world is that the only way anyone will ever move forward is when they have the courage to fail again."

A half-smirk appeared on Nightwing's handsome features, a near sneer that looked so similar and yet so different from the one that his father had sported time and time again.

"That's not very encouraging."

"The truth rarely is," Selina fired back with a saucy grin as she caught an intriguing sight far away from Dick's back. "Of course, if you still need your ego to be placated, then maybe the fact that Bruce values you more than anything in this world will do the trick. Or, if that doesn't do it, then maybe this'll give you a nice ray of sunshine."

Selina pointed to the room's entrance, causing Dick to turn around just in time to be knocked to the floor by a charging Rose Wilson. Unable to hide his smile as The Ravager nestled her head into his chest, he took a second to figure out just how bizarre it was that the daughter of one of his greatest enemies had become one of his staunchest supporters. It had begun with Slade's request to look out for her, the master assassin fearing that his daughter's life would be in danger if she continued to be closely associated with him. Dick, through his efforts of introducing her to the Teen Titans and Young Justice, allowed the young woman to experience not just her first chance to make a friend but also the opportunity to live a life outside the dismal existence she had been forced to endure before her father and Wintergreen had found her. Of course, a series of tragic circumstances would eventually force father and daughter back together again but it was clear that the young woman still remembered his efforts and appreciated him for it.

Oh, and lest he forget, Dick couldn't help but notice that the bizarre friendship also managed to piss the hell out of the man that had just walked into the room.

"Batman's team has returned from their mission," Deathstroke informed Dick and his daughter, a significant chill within his already normally frigid candor. "He wants both teams to return to the manor as quickly as possible so unless you want your team to return without its leader then you would do well to take your hands off of my daughter."

Rose kept the ill-behaved glint in her one remaining eye away from her father's stony gaze and gave Nightwing a flirtatious wink. "Okay, Dad," Rose said as she loosened her grip on Dick's back, her nimble fingers briefly brushing along the curves of Nightwing's butt. "Come on, Dickie! Let's go kick some ass!"

Dick Grayson and Slade Wilson, friendly and unfriendly rivals for nearly a decade, shook their heads nearly simultaneously as Rose gave a brief wave to Selina before rushing from the room. Selina let out a little _mrrow _at it all, causing the hired gun with the iron-gray hair to let out an exasperated snort before taking his leave as well. Dick turned back to Catwoman, briefly wondering how he ever learned to get comfortable with all this insanity.

"Thank you for everything, Selina."

The raven-haired former cat burglar gave Bruce's son an earnest smile. "No problem, Boy Blunder. Just remember to do my share. Oh, and I would appreciate if you can somehow coax your father into becoming my own personal night nurse."

"I'll see what I can do," Dick countered with a playful smile before he made a turn for the door. "You know I can't make any promises when it comes to him though."

Selina merely shook her head as she watched Nightwing work to catch up with the two mercenaries. A languid smile crept onto her parched lips as she watched the man go.

"Well, now that he's all taken care of, I can finally start seeing if I can convince one of these studly male volunteers to give me a sponge bath."

* * *

Just as two of the three participants had anticipated, the battle between Parallax and the fused form of Kara Zor-el and Lloyd Thomas had been laughably one sided.

The first clue was when the parasitic entity attempted to telepathically barrel its way through the mind of its opponent. The response, a neural backwash strong enough to send its physical body into a state of momentary shock, provided a clear sign that such a move wasn't a wise option. An energy duel between the two of them ended with very similar results as Kara employed their combined physical abilities to effortlessly weave their way through the assault while Lloyd employed their nearly endless supply of available energy to counter with an offensive that had caused the blackened burn marks that Kyle Rayner's stolen body bore with a great deal of agony. Next came a physical duel as Parallax employed the corrupted power of Oa's Torchbearer in an attempt to overwhelm the impressive power of the amalgamated combatant.

The bored look in the silver eyes of Parallax's current captor and the horrific state of the fear demon's broken wrists said all that needed to be told about the results of that particular exchange.

"Is this it?" Kara and Lloyd disdainfully asked their prey, their dual voice booming through their lips. "You call yourself the definition of fear and this is all you're able to bring to the table?" The half-Kryptonian's usually fair face twisted itself into a positively wicked smirk. "You know, we've found that there isn't anything quite as annoying as a false advertiser. Perhaps you would have been better off possessing a used car salesman."

Parallax, despite the bleakness of the situation at hand, gave a dreadful smile to its confident antagonist. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand your ridiculous vernacular," it hissed in response. "That being said, I do admit that I could have done one thing differently."

Kyle Rayner let out a gasp as a foul, yellow ether seemed to leak its way through his head and chest. The smoke-like substance moved quickly towards its destination, flooding the fused warrior body and soul. A wide series of spells was cast as the seconds-long procedure was carried out, a sequence of enchantments and incantations specifically designed to overwhelm the psychological defenses of any one it had ever come across. And, just as it had hundreds upon thousands of times before, the defenses of its target could do nothing as the prey once again became far too ensnared within their own emotional imperfections to properly defend themselves.

The battlefield was rocked by another explosion of golden light that forced the far away line of Green Lanterns to be knocked aside as if they were dust scraped off one of the surrounding meteors. The center of all the havoc, however, remained unmoving, uncaring, and just happed to be sporting a grin full of familiar jagged fangs.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, another two weeks and another issue in the books! First of all, I'd like to thank Canis Black for including me on his new C2C. Now, in addition to being Fanfiction Worth Reading, The Misfits are now Stuff that Looked Interesting. I feel like my head's about to tip over from the ego infused by these wonderful words! All kidding aside, thanks to everyone who continues to read and review. I know it can be not fun to wait two weeks for every new issue but, as much as I'd like to avoid it, real life has a tendency to get in the way of my creative processes.

Oh, and I also managed to hit the local comic book store for the first time in about a month and I'm _certain _that all of you want to hear about that! I managed to catch up on _Final Crisis _and, for those of you who haven't been reading it or are interested in what I have to say about it, here is my synopsis of the events of the first three issues. . .

Lots of stuff happens

Barry Allen is alive again

Well, that's pretty much all I was able to work out. Of course, that's pretty standard fare for Grant Morrison's stuff now, isn't it? Still, you gotta love the guy, just as much as I love writing these next issue previews!

* * *

Issue #68 Preview

Okay, so Parallax has possessed Kara and Lloyd. Surely that's not going to end bad now is it? Also, if The Anti-Monitor is not The Anti-Monitor then who the hell is that big critter that's about to kill Stephanie? Meanwhile, back on Karbarra, just how much hell do you think Roy will raise now that he's got his mitts on a Qwardian power ring? Oh, and we just finished the eighth part of _Power Play _and we _still _haven't seen Sinestro!! Just where the hell is he?! The answers to these questions and part two of Wally West vs. Hank Henshaw in the next issue of The Misfits: Means to an End. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	68. Means to an End

Issue #68

Issue #68

Means to an End

The boy's breath continued to spurt from his lungs and through his mouth in heavy gasps as he continued to run, the desperation to survive having long overtaken anything youthful energy and exuberance had to offer. Sweat poured from his hair as the child pounded his feet across the rock and dirt, the tiny rivulets of liquid slipping from the thick follicles on the top of his head before plummeting to the searing ground below. Tiny hands rushed to scrabble up a steep mound that had gotten in the way of his escape, black nails digging in as deeply as it could in order to keep from falling in the midst of the frantic movements. He found himself praying as he finally clambered up to the apex of the messy knoll, a frenetic plea to whatever kind deity would listen, to keep safe the lives of everyone he knew.

He had long forgotten where he had planned to go, his thoughts now long polluted by the all-encompassing need to get away and the fear of what would happen if he didn't. The perceptions of his pursuers, however, were not nearly as clouded as their precise sensors and tireless turbines continued to effortlessly operate within the dusty environment as they continued to close in on their target. The ominous presence of the wrist-mounted plasma cannons connected to the androids' left arms were all that needed to be seen to realize that they were, indeed, quite the threat to be worried about. Having spotted the child a mere 10 seconds ago, they quickly closed in on their target in order to complete their newly consigned objective as quickly as possible.

A cerulean-colored energy blast that scattered at the front of the child's feet was enough to send him stumbling to the ground, the maneuver offering more than enough time for the androids to close in on him. The boy recovered quickly but the momentary struggle to rise up to his undersized feet allowed the pair of Manhunters quite enough time to maneuver so they were hovering above him, the foreboding sight quickly causing the boy to shiver in absolute fear.

"You have been warned of the consequences of attempting to escape," the Manhunter in front of him delivered the cold reminder, the tone quite suitable when working in tandem with the dull hum of the gun barrel aimed straight at the bridge of bone situated right between the boy's round, black eyes. "Commander Kurkosaw has ordered for you to be terminated in order to provide an example for those who share your intentions."

"Um, excuse me."

The request came from another voice, one that could not quite be seen either by the boy or the Manhunters that had tracked the child down. Thankfully, the sensation of a finger tapping on the front android's shoulders helped to remove a bit of the veil, the android's sudden swerve causing the fallen child to jump in surprise. The interrupter continued to show their kindness by providing visual evidence of their arrival in the form of a blood-red hand, the withered digits giving off a yellow glow thanks to the bauble wrapped around the limb's ring finger.

"Would you like to talk to the hand?"

The Manhunter's face was already starting to melt by the time it could have made a reply, the intensity of the blast from the Qwardian power ring too much for even its impressive structural integrity. The new owner of the eldritch instrument of destruction continued to move as he aimed the barrel of an energy pistol he had pilfered from the armory a mere five minutes ago at his other target, firing off three quick shots aimed straight between the automaton's optic lenses. Each attack hit its mark with near-perfect accuracy with the successive strikes crashing into nearly the same exact spot one after the other. The first was enough to stun the machine, the second threw off its shot so that the blast of superheated plasma that spat from its cannon missed the child by a good five feet, and the third punched through the robot's automated cerebral cortex, a wound that proved to be more than damaging enough to send the former police officer down in a nonfunctional heap.

The boy was already running away before the stranger even had the time to coolly slide his gun back into its assigned holster, the child's snout letting out a panicked breath as its four paws scrabbled across the dirt and rubble in order to move as quickly as possible. He continued to panic as the new arrival dashed off to follow him, the enhanced physical abilities given to him by the Yellow Lantern ring enabling him to close the distance in nearly no time at all. If he had the capacity to do so, perhaps the cub would have noticed that his rescuer was looking a bit guilty as he slid in front of him but the lad's hunched over state barely allowed him to come up to the man's knees, let alone his eyes.

"Woah, woah, little guy," Roy said softly but speedily, his hands stretched out in front of him in order to further present that he meant no harm. The continued gesture gave the youthful Karbarran enough time to rise to his feet, the juvenile ursaroid rising up to its full height of just over four feet. "Now I know that you can't understand me," Arsenal continued, "but I'm not going to hurt you. There's no reason to be scared. . ."

"W-w-w-w-who. . . who are you?"

"AHHH!" Roy yelped as he involuntarily leapt backwards in shock and surprise. The gesture, of course, only caused the child to panic in response, the dirty, black fur around the cub's chest beginning to bristle as the beating of the boy's heart somehow became even more rushed and frenzied Despite the newfound awkwardness, however, Harper was smart enough to recover quickly.

"How in the hell can you speak English?!"

It took several long, anxious seconds before the cub could reply, the child's oxygen supply currently being dominated with the task of keeping his lungs from giving out. "Y. . . yes," the boy replied with what he had probably hoped to be a forced growl but ended up being more like a youthful squeak. "I can say. . . Een-glish. My poppa taught me."

"Huh," Roy said just before swallowing a bit of spittle and mucus in order to not only moisten his throat but also to buy his mind some time. A brief, rational part of him that happened to be paying attention at the battery of boring briefings he had been forced to attend reminded him that the Karbarrans had, in recent history, engaged in frequent contact with not only the Green Lantern Corps but also with Mao Tenryu and his intergalactic representatives. _So_, he supposed, _I suppose that it might be possible that a kid living on a planet seven light years away from England would be able to speak English. _

_Still, _he couldn't help but add to himself, _it's pretty god damned. . . convenient_.

"What is this. . . hell?"

Roy quickly snapped himself out of his confused thoughts in order to properly respond to the unusual question. "Say what now?"

"You said hell," the cub repeated, this time with more curiosity. "What does that mean?"

The young father couldn't help but shake his head. "What a way to break the ice," he muttered as he wiped away the sweat that was starting to crop up on his forehead. "Don't worry about it, kiddo. You got a name?"

The boy nodded quickly, the hopeful glint in the cub's painfully round eyes making the sight appear almost unbearably cute to The Misfits' resident sharpshooter. "I am. . . my name is Kamon. Are. . . are you with the good Lanterns?"

Roy found himself nodding quickly in response, an instinct to avoid causing unnecessary confusion quickly bubbling to the surface. "Yeah, we're here to help you guys. Now can you tell me what's going on here?"

Kamon waggled his fur-covered head once again, the boy's eyes seemingly becoming more and more watery with each little movement. "They've got my mommy and daddy! They've got all my friends!" he shouted, his speech picking up speed with each passing exclamation. "The bad people told us that the grownups have to fix the cannons or they're gonna get rid of us! I tried to get away 'cause I was so scared but then I got lost and. . . an', an'."

"It's okay. It's okay," Arsenal replied in a soothing manner as he worked to smooth Kamon's ruffled fur with his weathered hands. As his body piloted him through this gesture of comfort, an angry spark emerged in his blue eyes as his brain quickly got the picture.

_Henshaw, Kurkosaw, you fuckin' sons a bitches, ya should have picked a better strategy for getting somebody to do your dirty work than to threaten kids. _

"I'm here to make sure that everybody will be safe. Now do you know where the pens are? The one where they're keeping the rest of the children?"

The young ursaroid was shaking his head back and forth before he even managed to get a word out. "I don't know," he mournfully whispered, the boy's sudden sorrow and shame turning his response into something like a growl. "I just kept running and running and then I didn't know where I was going. I was so scared, sir. . ."

"That's all right," Roy said soothingly, a practice he had picked up before Lian started rolling her eyes at him when he used it. "There's no harm done." There was a soft glint in Arsenal's eyes as he once again focused his thoughts upon his pilfered ring, his efforts now focused upon using his newfound weapon to search for the other younger prisoners. It didn't take long for him to pick out a pair of high-concentration marks: one nearly 200 meters south-southwest and another a good 450 meters to the north. Noting that the increasingly familiar signature being put forth by Leokar Kurkosaw was coming from the latter location, Arsenal found it safe to assume that the closer destination was the place to go.

Of course, there was another thing he had to do first.

"Kamon," Roy began quietly, "do you think you can find a place to hide or do you want to stay near me?"

The speed that the cub had put into burying his face against his chest, the boy's cold nose tickling the skin over his right pectoral muscle, was all the proof the Roy required in order to figure out that he had gained a new companion.

* * *

_Oa_

Thanks in no small part to a variety of traumatic events too detailed and numerous to properly go into with the time provided, the last five years of Kyle Rayner's life had hardly been the smoothest road to be had. Of course, as John Stewart carried him away from the hub of the battlefield, the former starving artist couldn't help but ruefully think that he had seen better days of this. The burns all over his arms, chest, and legs continued to sting at his senses, the extraordinary healing properties that came with bearing the Ring of the Torchbearer causing his skin to tingle as it hastily mended itself together. The rest of his body, on the other hand, merely felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer, backed up upon, and then run over again.

_Well, at least the bulldozer mashing is merely metaphorical this time_, the Green Lantern thought with more than a hint of whimsy, his mind harkening back to memories of a particularly brutal past encounter with Major Force. _And I don't have to worry about figuring out how to get tread marks out of leather. _

"Are you back with us?" John asked in his typically stern manner. "Are you still feeling any ill effects from what Parallax did to you?"

Kyle dimly shook his head back and forth. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied with a tired whisper. "God, John. I tried so hard to fight him. I really did. Everything I tried. . ."

"You did a great job, kid," Stewart quickly interrupted, his tone even more unyielding than before. "You held the bulk of Parallax's power in comparative check for longer than anyone's ever been able to manage. We couldn't have won this battle without you."

The intergalactic champion now known throughout the stars as Ion gave his friend a rather reluctant nod while he slowly cast his eyes back to his former possessor. He found himself surprised to see a blonde-haired woman standing there instead, her slender frame surrounded by hundreds of his fellow Green Lanterns, each of which appeared to be ready for the worst. A dim, golden glow continued to pulsate from and around the woman, a simple precursor for the sheer power of the energy within the still vessel. Taking another fraction of a moment to squint his eyes, he suddenly realized that she looked familiar.

"Is that Supergirl?"

John gave Kyle an uncharacteristically crooked smile. "She likes to just be called Kara now," he responded while somehow holding his unusual grin. "And there's more there than just her and Parallax as well. Apparently she's become temporarily merged with Lloyd Thomas, a former assassin who is known as. . ."

"The Black Dog!" Kyle exclaimed, his recollection looking like it surprised even him. "Yeah, I've heard about him from Ganthet," he added with a slightly calmer candor. "Still, if Parallax has taken them over then what's to stop _them_ from causing even more havoc?"

The former Marine Corps officer let out a deep sigh of uncertainty, a clear sign that Kyle had a right to be concerned.

"We don't know yet," Stewart found himself forcing to admit. "From what I've been told, it's apparently all part of the plan."

* * *

Try as it might, Parallax couldn't quite figure out just where it had shunted itself off to. However, despite the confusing circumstances, the parasitic entity had to admit that, wherever it was, the scenery that surrounded the demon did a fine job in appealing to its specific tastes. The enormous edifice was clean and uncomplicated, the structure adorned with little more than tall stone columns and sturdy walls that appeared to be handling the task of supporting the high roof of the structure with little trouble at all. Hints of sunlight peeked in and made their presences felt from what few apertures there were to offer but the gray shadows that permeated the space beneath it seemed to twist the light into a gray pallor. The bizarre amalgamation of light and darkness seemed to greatly magnify the majesty that ran through the structure as richly as the royal purple carpeting that lay under the fiend's clawed feet.

Several long minutes had passed since the intriguing tableau had made itself clear to Parallax's eyes, offering more than enough time for the beast to try and become comfortable with its newfound surroundings. However, as alluring as the entire scene had the potential to be, there was clearly something more here than simple aesthetics. A slight but definite sense of foreboding ran within these castle walls, the reverberating emotion and energy causing Parallax to experience little pin pricks of uncertainty that continued to niggle at its senses. There seemed to be no reason at all for the fear that was slowly filling the demon's gut, no indication of any other presence save for its own. . .

But that didn't stop the monster from thinking there was.

"Is it safe?"

Parallax quickly twisted its head to and fro, its senses searching for any clue as to where the source of the new voice had could be found. Foreboding slowly began to give way into involuntary desperation as the fear demon could find nothing.

"Is it safe?" The voice asked again, the familiar British twinge suddenly sounding more and more familiar to the question's recipient.

"We're so pleased that you could make it, Parallax," another hidden speaker announced, the familiar sound of Kara Zor-el's voice sounding almost playful as it seemed to sound out through the inky blackness. "For a second there we almost thought that you weren't gonna make it."

Parallax grit its incisors together before letting them show, spittle hanging from the long fangs as the rest of the beast continued its fruitless search. "Come out of hiding, mortals. I want to smell the pleasing stench of your fear as I rip the flesh from your noisy faces."

"Ooooh. Such nasty words," Kara noted with an even greater degree of mischief than before. "Of course, something tells me that the real reason you're upset isn't because of _our _fear. What do you think, Lloyd?"

"It rubs the lotion on the skin unless it gets the hose. . ."

"Oh would you _stop_!" Kara interrupted the Brit with an antagonized hiss. "Good Rao, it's like you've been infected by Steph's pop culture weirdness."

"Well, it is a good way to lose your noodle fer a bit," Lloyd admitted. "And 's not like you have to jump me rocks about it. Not like this bloke's a real threat anymore."

"Get out here," Parallax commanded as it once again cast its voice into the void. "Quit cowering in the darkness."

"See? It's just like I said, pet," The Black Dog continued on, seemingly avoiding the words of the fear demon as it frantically searched for anything besides the stone walls and the carpeting at its feet. "Nothin' but a yappin' pup, this one. Ya strip away the veneer and this beastie's nothin' but a liar. An' a soddin' bad one at that."

"Yeah, yeah," Kara acknowledged rather calmly before her voice took on a decidedly more annoyed tinge. "And don't call me 'pet'! Oh, and don't forget how I was right about the other thing."

"True to that," Lloyd replied as he recognized his partner's accomplishment. "It appears that all the, well, 'fishy stuff' I believe you called it, was right on the ball. 'Course, in my mind that's just another bit of proof that you're quite the credit to your distinguished species."

"Why thank you very much!"

"SHOW YOURSELVES!!" the beast bellowed as Kara and Lloyd busied themselves by sharing a round of playful laughter.

"'M afraid your business is no longer with us, mate," The Black Dog explained once he managed to get himself back on an even keel, his tone becoming slightly more serious.

"That's right," Kara added with a bit more brightness than what her partner had to offer. "Our jobs are done, big guy."

A flicker of hope emerged in the eyes of Parallax as its latest search for signs of life finally bore fruit. The demon immediately surged its way towards it with all the speed the fiend could muster, anxious to pay back the insolent little creatures for what they had nearly done.

"You see, all we had to do was to make sure that Pinocchio made his way into the tent," The Black Dog explained. "Make everything all nice and palatable so the little marionette would never know 'e was about to be fitted with ass's ears."

"Well, Lloyd, I think the penalty is going to be a little bit stricter than that."

"Just speakin' from the metaphorical sense, Kara," Lloyd replied as Parallax finally arrived at its destination. "That bein' said, there's really not much more need to delay the festivities any longer, is there?"

"None that I can see," Kara replied with a smack of her lips. "It's safe to say the puppet is on the string," she went on as Parallax fought back the urge to fire all the energy it could muster into the emptiness around it. "Now it's time for the puppeteer."

The room exploded in a flare of vibrant silver light, the intensity of the glow causing the fear demon to let out an angry hiss as it clamped its eyes shut. Vibrantly colored spots continued to swim in the demon's eyes as the illumination faded away, leaving the creature at the base of a tall dais that seemed to serve as a focal point for the main chamber of the psychological stronghold. There were three figures waiting at the top of the stage, each of them well aware of how the oncoming show was going to end. On the left was Kara Zor-el, the half-Kryptonian sporting a rather concentrated grimace that went all but ignored by Parallax as it struggled to recover its senses. Far to her right was Lloyd Thomas, The Black Dog apparently choosing to reward the creature's blind diligence with a devious smile.

The creature between them, however, was a new sight.

The humanoid beast stood tall as it looked down at its prey, his towering height of nearly 25 feet allowing him to easily eclipse Parallax even without the staircase that separated them. Every inch of the creature's immense body was hidden from view with the aid of black and silver armor, the armaments serving not only as a source of protection but also as an unmistakable symbol of the warrior's violent but noble past. The creature's bulging forearms and unnaturally wide legs, a combination of features that may have appeared silly in contrast to the beast's more streamlined portions of his body, instead made the greater demon look all the more imposing to Parallax as the soul scrounger took a step or two backwards.

And Parallax had a good reason to feel the fear that was starting to overwhelm its already turbulent emotional state. Indeed, though the deeds that the larger demon had performed over the course of its long existence would be considered by many to be cruel and unforgivable, the intentions behind the creature's actions were a far cry from those of the creature that had attempted to twist the souls of Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner in order to drown them within their own imperfections. While Parallax had performed its ignoble feats in its quest for greater power, infamy, and influence, the dignified monster who was staring down at the shivering fear demon had performed his deeds in the name of safety for all that lived, human and demon alike.

And Lloyd's demon knew precisely what to do within this particular situation.

* * *

_Karbarra Airspace – Qwardian Battleship 4AH_

The Flash felt the barest hint of a spark and a shock as a drop of sweat threatened to fall from the edge of his nose, the droplet quickly evaporated by the heat of the electricity whirling around him. As he swerved past another blast of heat vision, this one appearing to have been aimed for the center of his spinal cord, Wally couldn't help but find himself thinking back to something that Bruce had said to him. It had all started with him telling The Batman that the only way the detective could even touch him was if he allowed it to happen. It was just another one of those egotistical spoutings that The Flash occasionally took quite a bit of pride in, the relief he felt from temporarily besting someone who seemed to have such an impact upon so many of the people he cared about taking precedence over his normally affable nature.

Several days later, when Wally was on the verge of almost forgetting the entire exchange, Bruce, as was his way, had offered his rejoinder. He cleverly replied that, given all the available evidence, there was more than enough proof for him to realize that he didn't need to touch The Fastest Man Alive in order to get the better of him.

It was a counter that had been proven many times before Bruce had pointed it out to him. Of course, what made it even worse was that the theory continued to prove itself true time and time again. Hell, the scar on his abdomen, an unwanted gift given to him by Slade Wilson's blade during the hunt for Sue Dibny's killer, still managed to scratch at his senses whenever a strong wind managed to drift under his clothing. However, just as Barry had taught him to do even before he could run faster than the speed of sound, Wally West had a tendency to try his best to learn from his mistakes.

Klaxons continued to sound off throughout the ship as The Flash phased through another corridor that Henshaw bashed his way through shortly thereafter. Taking less than a picosecond to turn around in order to take a peek at the furious glare on the cyborg's face, The Flash let out a merry laugh in the hopes that the move would infuriate his pursuer even further. Passing his intangible molecules through another pair of Manhunters, he nearly lost his footing as another explosion rocked the large battle craft. However, despite his ever-momentary stumble, Wally not only managed to keep up his part of the merry chase while devoting a portion of his senses towards catching snippets of the messages being delivered over the ship's intercom system.

"Well, I really have to thank you for doing my job for me," Wally said in a rather gamely manner just as he turned to the offensive with a sweeping right hook that crashed across Henshaw's jaw. "And, in case you were interested," he threw in while The Cyborg quickly recovered. "This sort of reminds me of my old training exercises with Superman. . ."

Henshaw offered his thanks for the back-handed compliment in the form of three quick blasts of heat vision, the man's cybernetic lenses calculating the precise electro spectrum frequency that would be required to break through The Flash's unstable molecules and burn through the infuriating man's torso.

"Except," Wally added while skillfully dodging Blast No. 1, "and not to criticize you or anything," he offered as he avoided the second shot with a graceful bow, "Clark would actually hit me every now and _oof_. . ."

The unusual interruption was a response to the fist that Henshaw had managed to slam into Wally's gut, the force of the blow momentarily knocking the wind from Wally's lungs as well as his sails. However, and thanks in no small part to Wally's impressive muscular endurance, The Flash managed to weather the attack with only a brief flickering of pain. This, in turn, allowed him to twist, slide, and swerve his way around everything else that his foe had to throw at him while responding with an equally ineffective offensive of his own.

"I believe that I'll survive with not claiming your life directly," Henshaw replied with a growl as the intercom system warned those aboard to abandon ship. "However, I've now become interested in seeing if you'll be able to survive without the aid of these protective confines."

The Flash was already on the move as Henshaw twisted the Apokoliptian metal in his right arm in order to create a plasma cannon. The blast that emerged from the hastily-created weapon tore through much of the eastern wall of the ship with very little trouble, adding even more irreparable damage to the rapidly failing craft. As much as he would have liked to see the fireworks, Wally was well aware that clearing the zero-gravity field that affected the compartments of the ship he had run through a few fractions of a second before took greater precedence. That being said, the havoc that was going on around him did not stop him from perusing his options.

_Well, there's no way I'm going to be able to leave the way I came in, given that the bridge is already a bunch of fancy debris. The problem now is getting through all these little explosions in order to work up the speed to get clear of the big one to come. _

He felt his legs momentarily catch fire as he strayed just a hair too close to an exploding bulkhead. Thankfully, the ability to move his body at nearly the speed of light gave him quite the interesting fire safety tool.

_As for the rest of it, _he added as a trio of Manhunters exploded in front of his eyes. _I guess I'm just gonna have to cross that bridge when I come to it. . . or just try not to freak out when said bridge falls upon my head._

A loud explosion sounded off to his left as he continued to outrace or dash through the detonations that had taken place before it. He could feel the heat of the flames at his heels as he continued to move, his own supply of kinetic electricity only adding more fuel to the growing conflagration.

_And there goes the core breaching_, Wally reminded himself with a frown. _This means I've got about a half second to. . . _

He made his leap just two-and-a-half hundredths of a second before the battleship finally burst into a fractured slagheap of annihilated circuitry and molten metal. The time window, as miniscule as it was, allowed The Flash to get nearly 400 feet away from the primary blast zone, more than enough distance to safely allow his intangible body to withstand the explosion and be swept forward into the unique freedom that space had to provide. However, for all its magnificence, Wally also knew that his new environment was deprived of two fairly important things: the ability to employ his phenomenal foot speed in order to return to The Big Whale and the oxygen he would need to stay alive.

_I think it's safe to say that Linda would think that this would be a stupid way to die_, he thought as he continued to drift away from the main battlefield.

* * *

The beast within Lloyd couldn't help but shake his head as Parallax continued to pathetically shirk away from its steady gaze. Trying and failing to relieve his frustrations by tensing his grip on the massive cleaver it held within its meaty right paw, the greater demon then took a moment to revel in the memories of slaughtering pitiable upstarts such as these during his glory days and found himself feeling a great deal better.

Though he had long grown satisfied with merely assisting the boy in his quest for a good and just existence, to supply Lloyd Thomas with the power and wisdom he would need to become a great warrior, he had to admit that the opportunity to do his own personal bit of damage was starting to offer a great deal of appeal. Of course, being a 6,000-year-old greater demon, he was also equipped with the awareness and foresight to recognize that it simply wouldn't do to start acting as if he were an alley cat that had just happened upon its first bits of Albacore tuna.

So he went with a minor falsehood and hoped for the best.

"This is the best you can provide, my _teishu_?"

The look in his host's eyes told him that he didn't convince the young man in the least.

"Sorry about that, big man," Lloyd replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "To be fair, though, it was constantly jabberin' on 'bout how he was this big, bad fear demon. Far as I'm concerned the bloke brought this on 'imself."

"Oh, and in the little guy's defense, its attentions _are_ kind of divided right now," Kara added while she took a moment to observe the strangely playful exchange before adding, "just like I told yoooou," with a sing-song voice.

"I will no longer allow these blatant and continued showing of disregard," Parallax bellowed at its amused observers with a belligerent howl. "For centuries I have worked to amass the power I would require to wash all of reality within its own fears and I will not be denied my destiny by anyone or anything! I will not fall at the feet of some mongrel of a forgotten people or at the hands of a pathetic Earthling who chooses to hide within a relic's coattails!!"

"MISERABLE WORM!!" Lloyd's demon spat back with enough volume and intensity to prompt the younger demon into another round of involuntary cowering. "YOU WILL RECEIVE NOTHING MORE THAN WHAT I BELIEVE YOU TO DESERVE! YOU ENTER MY DOMAIN WHILE DOING NOTHING TO HONOR THE PRESENCE OF I OR MY HONORED _TEISHU _AND YOU SHOWCASE YOUR STUPIDITY BY MAKING DEMANDS?!"

"OI! A little less of the caps lock speech please," Lloyd interrupted while gently placing the palms of his hands against his ears. "All this magic I've had to do to make this possible 's given me a bit of a headache."

Lloyd's demon responded with a polite nod before beginning to descend down the staircase, each movement forward bringing him closer to the leech that was quickly realizing that it had gone after something that it couldn't possibly drain away. The black aura around his armor began to intensify once again, the nearly unfettered force appearing to electrify the neural net that Kara and Lloyd had worked to create and Parallax had attempted to invade. A dangerous smile crept upon the face of the noble beast as he continued to close the gap between him and his quarry, the grin becoming ever broader as Parallax continued to summon its own courage by recalling the many times that it had overwhelmed its own prey in such a fashion. It was a common practice performed by those that he had taken upon himself to bring down but it still somehow never failed to amuse him.

The globules of golden energy that spat from Parallax's claws were nothing more than another desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. The effort was quickly rendered useless as the larger demon used its impressive dexterity to deflect each and every attack with his wide-bladed hatchet, the blade moving at a speed that didn't seem impossible given its size and bulk. A more concentrated blast quickly followed as Parallax continued to use its own fear in order to fuel its lagging power wells. However, a simple force shield was all that was required for Lloyd's demon to render the attack useless and leave the pair of dueling beasts back where the duel began.

A slight popping noise followed by the hideous, bloodcurdling scream that poured from Parallax's lungs as the cleaver sunk into its chest then revealed that the battle was all but over.

"It would have been wise to put a little more effort into hiding your guilt," the victorious fiend revealed to its quarry with an angry hiss as its right claw wrapped around Parallax's quivering neck. "After all, I've killed many a demon whose crimes were far lesser than your own."

Tendrils of black energy began to sliver through the demon's long fingers as Parallax seemed to try its best to shrink into itself. The wisps of malevolent energy began to multiply and spread further, the energy pushing its way through any open part of Parallax's body that it could find. If the miniscule streams could not find some kind of orifice to pass through then they simply created one, the resulting wounds leaving the fear demon locked in utter agony as the transference of energy slowly wound towards its painful completion.

"I have judged you, stripling," Lloyd's demon informed his blubbering, weeping prey. "Now, your sentence shall be carried out."

The ebony vines that had previously invaded Parallax's body began to grow warmer and warmer, ultimately reaching a heat that could only be otherwise produced by the hottest of suns. Agonizing seconds drew on as the fear demon broiled within its own bodily fluids, the chosen method of death leaving the victim without even the capacity to scream.

And now, with her current duty done, Kara turned her gaze back towards Lloyd.

"I was always wondering where you picked up that move."

Lloyd merely raised his eyebrows.

* * *

_127. . . 128. . . 129. . . 130. . . _

_Huh. I never knew that I could hold my breath for this long,_ The Flash dimly thought to himself as he blearily stared into the gorgeous interstellar tableau before his eyes. Of course, he couldn't devote as much energy to the task as he would have liked, thanks most notably to the distraction provided by the weakening fluttering of his fading heartbeat. The reduced circulation and the lack of oxygen-enriched blood left The Flash without the energy to even raise his arms up to wipe away the cold sweat that was meshing into his mask or to see the blue tinge on the edges of his face and extremities.

He tried to see Linda in front of him, his beautiful Linda. He could hear her say that he had done the right thing.

The arrival of an old man in ice-blue battle armor quickly told Wally that his theory was true. As unsettling as the cold impassiveness that normally took up residence in the eyes of Victor Fries, Wally found it to be a wonderful sight to his tiring eyes as Mister Freeze grabbed a hold of him. He even would have chuckled at the impatient lassitude on the face of his colleague but the old man's hasty movements to properly prepare the emergency short-term oxygen generator suddenly left him with the more important task of supplying his lungs with what they would need for him to survive. The fuzziness in his vision began to clear and his commonly overactive respiratory and circulatory systems soon began to roar back to life, the infusion of life and energy restoring The Fastest Man Alive into his usual, irritating self.

_That was a profoundly stupid decision_, Mister Freeze reminded his younger colleague through their telepathic link, the cryogeneticist more than happy to point out Wally's capacity to infuriate.

_Ahhhh_, _I knew you'd come back to save my bacon_,Wally casually fired back as the propulsion engines within the boots of the old man's armor began to propel them forward. _I just wanted to make sure that I did my share._

Fries remained silent for a moment, as if the man was working out whether he should compliment his former second-in-command for his bravery or continue to chastise him. However, his efforts to decide the right response were cut short by a lance of yellow energy smashing through his left leg. An array of sparks and small explosions coincided with the old man's silent howl as The Flash once again found himself drifting aimlessly through space. Once again though, he didn't find himself wandering for long as a strong, coffee-colored hand wrapped around his throat.

As thankful as he was that the oxygen generator was still functioning, Wally found the fury in the eyes of Yrra Cyrnil to be quite the disconcerting sight indeed.

"I'm hungry," Fatality told him within the safety of her yellow energy cocoon, the tinge of animalistic lust in her voice not sounding the least bit appealing to the struggling speedster. "Give me those pretty eyes."

Fatality's attempts to make due on her threat with the aid of her prosthetic left hand were interrupted by a brilliant wave of emerald energy that washed over her and her captive. Caught within her own desire for carnage, the sole survivor of the Xanshi was unable to shore up her defenses in time and the attack had little trouble in smashing through her hastily created shell. Momentarily weakened by the abrupt overload of her Qwardian power ring, the warrior woman was left wide open as a green battering ram crashed straight into the left side of her skull. The force of the blow was enough to overwhelm even her impressive constitution, causing the bounty hunter to be knocked unconscious.

_Jesus Christ! I was only out of it for a couple of seconds, _exclaimed Hal Jordan as he made his way over to Wally while supporting a wounded Victor Fries with the aid of a ring-created energy platform. _She really doesn't like her men to stay down for long, does she?_

* * *

As he casually dropped the deteriorated husk that served as Parallax's corpse onto the stone of his psychological castle, the demon that shared Lloyd's body turned to meet the intrigued gaze of his new guest.

"It suddenly occurs to me, my _teishu_," the beast pointed out while returning to the base of the dais with his typically long strides, "that you have yet to formally introduce me to this young woman."

Lloyd rolled his eyes in a rather dramatic fashion while Kara let out a tiny jump as she rushed to correct the error herself. "Oh, I'm Kara Zor-el, um," the half-Kryptonian replied before pausing to think of what to say next. "Should I call you Lloyd's demon?"

The creature in the black and silver armor let out a deep chortle as The Black Dog busied himself by rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left thumb and ring finger. "All these people spending so much time to teach you proper manners, Mister Thomas," he pointed out to his aggrieved comrade, "and yet you continue to succeed at learning nothing. As for what to call me, Miss Zor-el, I have gone by a great many names in my extensive existence. However, I am most commonly referred to as The Condemner."

Kara's large blue eyes widened only marginally in response. "The Condemner, huh? Well. . . that's only. . . slightly frightening."

"I'm quite pleased that you think so," The Condemner replied with quite the degree of sincerity. "I have been watching your exploits for a long time, my dear, and I must admit that my _teishu _has done an admirable job in choosing his future mate. I must confess that, for a long while, I was quite worried that he actually go with that odious, little, blonde-haired Green Lantern."

Lloyd quickly slipped his fingers off of his nose, flattening his left hand before shaking it in front of his face as if to say, _of course_. Kara, on the other hand, responded with a kindly smile while once again trying to batter down the slight flush that threatened to emerge from her cheeks. The Condemner, on the other hand, took in the rising supply of social improprieties in with a bemused smile, quite entertained with how easy it was to discomfit even the noblest examples of non-demons.

"Yes, this is The Condemner," Lloyd finally relented while waving his left arm at the enormous presence that now stood in front of him and his potential paramour. "Or Za'haf-al'nesh or Dark Guardian of The Just or The Protector of Involuntary Virgins or whatever the hell hullabalooed title 'e's decided to give himself this week," he added, causing the beast to let out another bemused bark of laughter. "I know he seems pretty startling but, believe me, once you've got to know him you'll see 'e's just a phenomenal pain in the ass."

Lloyd looked up to see the slight frown on Kara's face, a clear sign that she was rather put off by his rather peevish behavior. Turning away from the surprisingly influential response, he looked rather sheepish as he worked to become more sociable.

"He's a good man. Or, a good demon as the case may be."

"I honestly wouldn't go that far," The Condemner countered as Kara shifted her sights back towards the greater demon. "If the past few millennia have taught me anything it is to be a great deal more humble when it comes to discussing my bygone exploits."

"'E was a demon hunting demon," Lloyd interrupted, the young man seemingly compelled to make up for lost time. "A guardian of humans at a time when the beasties still had quite a bit of sway over this particular dimension. 'E fancied himself as a bit of a judge for all sides, a protector of those who didn't quite yet have the strength to do so themselves."

The Condemner let out another weary sigh. "Once again, you're painting me with a rather unfair brush, my _teishu_. And, as much as I'd like to clear things up for Miss Zor-el, there's still a rather large matter that the both of you should be attending to."

"The Sinestro Corps," Kara unnecessarily clarified, her blue eyes sparkling with sudden anticipation. "Lloyd, we've got to finish things up here so we can help the others take back Karbarra."

"Indeed we do," Lloyd replied while working to organize his half of their phenomenal resources. "Thanks for your help, mate, an' my apologies for not getting you some more entertaining company."

"That's quite all right," The Condemner responded with a casual wave of his hand as he watched the two mortals work together to remove their physical bodies from their combined mental defenses in order to safely return to the other battlefield. Casting another contemptuous look at his former challenger, he fired a short wave of black energy at the corpse of the insectoid-like fear demon. The withering heat of the attack incinerated what little remained of the Sinestro Corps general with even less trouble then it was to remove everything else.

"They simply don't make demons like they used to," he added wistfully while embracing his solitude once again.

* * *

Back in his childhood, during his many days living, playing, and working alongside the Navajo on the weathered plateaus of Northern Arizona, Roy had taken quite a liking to playing hide-and-go-seek. The game provided him with his first opportunity to hone and employ the skills that he would frequently put to good use as he grew to manhood. He learned how to track, how to follow, how to hide yourself from the eyes of others and how to present yourself as a tempting target. Of course, the touch-and-go mêlée with Kurkosaw's Manhunters that had gone on for the last 20 minutes hardly held the same childlike innocence. Not to mention the fact that Kamon's presence was nothing short of shining a spotlight on wherever he chose to hide, the scanning abilities of the cybernetic organisms allowing them to zero in on the Karbarran child time and time again.

_Then again, _Roy reminded himself, _I don't think Brave Bow would have been too keen with me immolating everybody who was it so maybe it all evens out in the end._

The Manhunters had been attacking them in groups of twos and threes, the standing army's objectives obviously a bit more diverse than finding a single Karbarran cub. The small numbers allowed him the time to usher Kamon along to a variety of vantage points throughout the northern quadrant of the compound that would allow him to protect his unexpected guest while having the opportunity to put up enough firepower to make sure that they wouldn't become surrounded.

_But it's not going to stay this way for long, _Arsenal couldn't help but admit as he once again devoted his thoughts towards powering Powaltik's ring. The detainment camp was now only 50 yards away according to the ring's scanning abilities and the sharpshooter was well aware of the fact that time was of the essence. Taking a moment to picture the sight of his daughter crying at her bedside, dejected that she has been left alone once again, the vision gave him the strength to create a golden guillotine blade which he quickly steered through both of his pursuers. Another vision, this time of an older him preparing to jab a needle into a ragged vein, empowered him with the ability to lift Kamon into his arms and surge forward into the air, closing the distance between them and their destination with a mighty leap.

_I think I'm startin' to get the hang of this_, Roy thought to himself as he cycled through his impressive supply of things that scared the shit of him. He continued to showcase his newfound skills on the three Manhunters waiting for him at the front of the pens, creating a sturdy energy shield that reflected the bursts of plasma that came at him and Kamon as they fell to the ground. A simple memory of a phone call from Scandal Savage informing him of how little Jade Nguyen cared for the safety of her daughter was enough to allow him to channel the energy in his ring into creating a yellow crowbar that he hurtled towards the front door. The curved blade easily sliced through the door's supports, the destruction sending the gate tumbling down upon the trio responsible for guarding it. Though the impact was hardly enough to bring the cyborgs down for the count, the combination of several precise strikes with a ring-created energy sword and a series of shots from his Karbarran energy pistol was quite sufficient in finishing the job.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the thought of another task done, Roy suddenly found himself quite equipped to let out that breath in a surprised gasp as his brain took in what his eyes had to offer him.

Bears.

Hundreds and hundreds of baby bears.

The previously captured Karbarran children were in various states of fatigue, dirtiness, and burgeoning excitement. Many of them were already clambering over the wreckage with the hope of finding freedom, some of them even mustering the courage to kick or paw at what remained of their dismantled captors as they moved forward. Kamon moved forward as well, an excited growl burbling from the cub's muzzle as he dashed about on all fours in order to get to the base of the rubble as soon he could. Roy took a moment to do nothing but watch as the Karbarran children began to cheer and chatter excitedly, the sight of his newfound compatriot capering with his friends making it almost impossible to stop smiling.

Of course, the sound of the blaring security alarms that suddenly decided to go off did quite a bit to kill the mood. While the ring informed Arsenal of the fact that a series of familiar energy signatures were heading his way, he rushed to meet his new friend halfway.

"Okay, Kamon," Arsenal said with as much confidence as he could muster. "You've got to find a way to get the others to safety while I hold these guys off! It's the only way we'll be able to free your parents and the other grownups. Can you do that for me?"

A brief flicker of terror was quite present in the cub's eyes, his black snout furrowing with concern. However, it wasn't long at all before the boy stood up as straight as he could, tilting his stubby neck in order to look straight into Roy's eyes. He held the gaze for a moment more before giving Roy a firm nod of assurance. Arsenal responded with the cockiest smile he could offer as he pictured the sight of a broken and battered Oliver Green lying upon some unknown battlefield. It gave him the power he needed to hurtle himself into the air with a streak of gold, his body surging to meet the nearly two-dozen Manhunters waiting for him in the muddy sky.

_So this is what's between me and the only thing that's going to help me to save this planet and the couple thousand people up in outer space, _Roy reminded himself. _Well, that and that psychotic Sinestro Corps general and whatever the hell else is waiting for me on the way there._

Despite his newfound confidence, Roy found himself frowning as he briefly considered using his stolen ring to calculate the odds of his survival.

He decided against it.

* * *

_Oa Battlefield – Outside Perimeter_

"_WARNING – ENERGY RESERVES HAVE REACHED BELOW 5 PERCENT. CONTINUED PROLONGED OUTPUT IS NOT RECOMMENDED."_

_God damn it. Can't you ever be useful and give me some good news? _Stephanie grumbled at the eldritch accessory that had saved her life several hundred times over the last two years and change. Her frustrations, combined with her fatigue, momentarily left her wide open for yet another of The Anti-Monitor's attacks (or "death bomb thingies" as Robin had taken to calling them). She managed to summon an energy cocoon just before the wave of anti-matter energy made contact, her ring quick to kindly inform her of the likelihood that such defenses would not be sufficient enough to keep her alive. Thankfully, another emerald force bubble soon joined hers in pushing the attack back, the added room allowing the fair-haired Lantern to veer away from the concentrated attack.

"_We are cutting things far too closely_," Stephanie's rescuer told her as he surged forward, a concentrated grimace clear as day on Graf Toren's otherwise smooth features.

"_Actually, given our usual circumstances, I have to say that this is a pretty stress-free situation," _Stephanie quickly retorted. _"How goes the main event?"_

"_Parallax has fallen_," Toren was happy to inform his fellow Lantern. _"If your leader's theory is correct then this battle should be over shortly."_

"_Let's hope so_." Stephanie answered back while casting a troubled glance at the dozens of Green Lanterns swarming around the enormous presence of the so-called Anti-Monitor. _"'Cause it's not like we're making any forward momentum here."_

Robin's dismal admission was immediately followed with a blaring statement that resounded from the Corps' neural communication network. The Guardians were reporting that a significant distortion had suddenly appeared within the energy pattern being put forth by "The Anti-Monitor". The alteration became even more prevalent as the gargantuan Sinestro Corps general began to flicker and grow less distinct, its power seemingly being drained away from it at a frantic pace. The creature let out a hideous roar, the cacophony quickly blunted by an enormous battery of attacks summoned by any Green Lantern who could work up a shot.

Within seconds after The Guardians' announcement had been made, the battle for Oa was done.

_Way to go, Kare Bear and Puppy, _Stephanie grumbled with a grin. _You two crazy kids._

Stephanie's cheery thoughts and the jubilant celebration taking place among her fellow Green Lanterns rang throughout the battlefield. Despite the difficulty of the tasks to come, there was a definite cause for more than a little merriment. Save for the handfuls of casualties taken in their efforts to breach the outer perimeter and the brief reign of terror conducted by the creature masquerading as The Anti-Monitor, the Corps had suffered minimal losses. Meanwhile, The Sinestro Corps had lost nearly all of the several thousand troops that had been stationed around Oa, their mighty forces wiped out by a combination of brilliant strategy and more than a smattering of good luck.

However, as Stephanie had begun to suspect, her ordeal on Oa was not quite over. Her ring informed her of another energy distortion, one that seemed to go completely unnoticed by the dozens of fellow space-faring warriors around her. Turning her eyes toward it, she caught sight of a black portal forming several hundred yards away, the bizarre energy calling for her to come closer. Not even bothering to spare a glance for a confused Graf Toren or the recently arriving John Stewart, she quickly made her way to her newfound destination, her slight frame slipping through the matter displacement field with a practiced ease.

"Well, well, well," Stephanie said into the unknown space around her. "I was wondering when you were going to show up."

Robin didn't even bother to turn her eyes away from the brilliant glow of the golden energy that came streaking towards her, its brilliant luminosity setting the anti-matter energy around the two of them aglow. The creature within the light, however, was a far darker presence, his stern, noble features regarding the young Earthling with a mixture of grudging respect and absolute contempt.

"I'm afraid that I've had other matters to attend to," Sinestro replied. "However, I believe that it's high time that the two of us had a talk."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

As I watch what remains of my brain get flushed down the toity (an event that tends to occur with each passing chapter), I'd like to thank all those who continue to read and review. You know, when I write these things I tend to kind of regret the fact that I'm usually so eager to respond to my reviewers' feedback personally instead of doing what's usually done and talk about them here. Of course, maybe I would be a bit cleverer in this section if I had even more people reviewing my stuff (cackles stupidly at his most recent of lame maneuvers to whore for reviews).

On the comic books front, I have to say that, despite my frustration at Chuck Dixon and his ability to get himself fired, I'm quite impressed at Fabian Nicienza's recent work on _Robin_ (although it would probably be a great deal better if he didn't have to work his way through _Batman R.I.P., _which I'm beginning to think stands for Ridiculously Inane Posing. Really, Grant. Bat-Mite? Batman dressed up in red, yellow, and purple?!). Stephanie's line about Batman being the most insanely sane person in the world is something I need to steal once everybody forgets that Fabian wrote it. After all, stealing from the handful of good comic book writers is what I do best! Oh, that and next issue previews. . .

* * *

Issue #69 Preview

Hey! It's that Sinestro guy that some of you probably thought was going to be the star of this little story arc! Geez, there's only three more issues to _Power Play_ and this guy is just now showing up? Well, either the author really has no idea what he's doing or somebody's got something up their sleeve (personally, I'm thinking the former). Find out the answer for yourself in two weeks time by hunkering down and reading the next installment of _The Misfits_: Unwanted Tradeoff. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	69. Unwanted Tradeoff

Issue #69

Unwanted Tradeoff

_The Batcave_

Nightwing smiled as he could almost feel the waves of irritation flowing freely from the tensed shoulders of Slade Wilson. The sensation caused the former Boy Wonder to break into a light jog in order to catch up with the master assassin. He finally managed it as they both arrived at the base of the stairwell that led towards the cavern's southern recesses where Bruce and his team were supposed to be arriving in a few minutes time. Although the clear fact that the man known to many as Deathstroke the Terminator appeared to look quite comfortable within the dank confines of the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor had the potential to be quite irritating to the younger vigilante, Richard's high spirits were more than able to ward off whatever budding aggravation there was to be had.

"Did you have a good time catching up with C.C.?" Dick asked in an almost sickeningly jovial manner. "I swear, I haven't seen him so excited to see an old face since that day he hacked into Ebay so he could get those backstage passes for the Rolling Stones concert a few months back."

Slade let out a tired sigh, as if he still couldn't believe that he was being forced to endure the younger man's attentions. "Richard," he began with rapidly thinning patience, "I understand that you're still overexcited from your recent exploits and whatever revelations you may have experienced while enduring them. However, I feel the need to remind you to act your age because your current behavior is nothing short of disgraceful to both your father and to yourself."

The Batman's first junior partner tilted his head to one side as if he was truly considering the honest request.

"Really? Huh. Well, it didn't seem like your daughter was really complaining about my attitude," he countered, the response earning him a moderately powered "Slade glare" (much like a "Bat glare" except with one less eye). "Hey. You think I've got a shot with her?"

"Why are you insisting on playing the fool card, Nightwing?" Slade inquired in a surprisingly neutral manner. "Are you so insecure about what may become of your future that you feel the need to take your frustrations out by irritating other people? Really, Grayson, I would have expected this kind of behavior from Stephanie but not from you."

"Better you to be the target of all of this than somebody who doesn't actually deserve the bothering," Dick countered as the two of them continued to make their way towards the underground hangar. "After all, you've pretty much set the land-speed record for making stupid decisions that ended up in innocent people getting hurt."

The sound of the massive, titanium doors sliding open momentarily interrupted any rejoinder that Deathstroke would have had to offer. As The Batman's latest stealth craft swept in for a near-picture perfect landing, its black wings giving off a cold gleam within the illumination provided by the cavern's track lighting, Slade turned back to his now anxious companion.

"At least I have the strength of mind to choose my own road," the Vietnam War veteran offered before making his way forward, the maneuver causing Dick to be left several steps behind as Batman's team descended from the aircraft. However, after taking a moment or two to playfully wiggle his fingers at Deathstroke's back in a mocking response, Nightwing was quick to close the distance.

The Batplane's half-dozen occupants began to clamber out of the vehicle mostly at their own leisure, each of them looking rather ragged from their endeavors. Dick found himself looked particularly surprised at the sight of a rather plump man he didn't quite recognize who sported patches of blonde hair that mixed with a wide variety of blackened burn marks around the top of his head. The former acrobat's eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the portly man's left femur, much of which was still in plain sight through the mending skin and muscle as Nigel hobbled his way forward with a chattering Knockout at his side. Dick said a few brief words to Catman as the hunter passed him by before checking on Cecilia. The profanity-laced explanation he received in return gave the ship's final two occupants the time to safely get to the ground with little notice by anyone. However, as engrossing as Arrowette's ranting usually was to him, Dick found himself tearing away from the sights and sounds of it as Batman and Scandal came striding towards them, the two field generals moving side-by-side once again.

"Are you all right?" Dick asked as he took a worried glance at the slightly bloodied bandages wrapped around his father's left shoulder. "What all happened?"

"Doctor Psycho tried to turn him into a pincushion and I stopped him," Arrowette calmly explained. "Of course, that didn't stop his testosterone from forcing him to fly the plane back instead of just letting me handle it. . ."

"That will be all, Arrowette," The Batman curtly interrupted without even losing his frayed stride. "Make sure Alfred patches up those wounds."

"Will do," the blonde-haired archer replied with a brusque salute before following Knockout and Nigel out of the hangar and into Wayne Manor proper.

Nightwing suddenly found himself a few steps behind once again as the three remaining vigilantes seemed to move in lock step as Deathstroke quickly chose to move alongside them.

_More scars_, he couldn't help but think as his vigilant senses caught the obscured sight of a series of exit wounds along his father's shoulder blade. _Does he even see all the damage anymore? _

"J'onn has already returned to The Watchtower," Batman went on, "but we need to do what we can to shore up the planet's defenses."

"What's the emergency?" asked Deathstroke as the unlikely quartet continued to move towards the trio of Crays that dominated the center of the eerie grotto.

"Jefferson Pierce gave us the news that The Justice League's satellite network picked up some unusual energy signals originating from the transmat systems set up by The Green Lantern Corps," Scandal replied while sweeping an errant lock of auburn hair back behind her ear. "Noah confirmed it with his own equipment but neither party seems to know what to make of it. It could be nothing at all. . ."

"And it could mean a great deal more," Slade quickly concluded, if only to save time. "Otherwise the two of you wouldn't be so determined to investigate the matter. What can I do to help?"

"Noah and I are already working on getting the word out," Scandal explained while Dick couldn't help but take a discreet glance at her swaying backside. "And The Batman's already assigned himself the task of contacting the JLA and the JSA instead of getting some rest like any rational person would do."

"You can assist Alfred with patching up the wounded," Batman patiently ordered the mercenary while ignoring the pithy commentary offered by the leader of The Secret Six. Slade walked away without another word, his long strides swiftly taking him towards the stone steps that would lead him up to the manor, the various wounded soldiers in need of mending, and the home's caretaker who would be responsible for providing it.

"Now hold on a second," Dick barked as he spun The Batman around by grabbing his right shoulder. The fact that he was able to pull the move off with no problem at all gave Nightwing all the evidence he needed to realize that his father was even more out of it than he appeared. "What do you think is about to happen?"

Bruce held his son's concentrated glare for several, long moments. He then gave a sideways look at Scandal, a silent prompt for her to move along to her latest task. The daughter of Vandal Savage had no problem understanding the silent message, the veteran warrior and espionage expert tenderly grasping her abdomen as she moved to join Noah at the cave's computer core. While she took a moment to slide into a nearby comfy chair before going to work at the left terminal, The Batman turned his eyes back to Nightwing, plaching his right hand firmly upon his son's shoulder as he did so.

"Dick, do you remember that conversation you had with Faith? The one you told me you had on the way to helping us save Aquaman."

"Yeah, as part of the JLA Benetton team," Dick replied. _She told me that I was the only thing you were ever truly proud of. _A large part of him felt the desire to screech at his father for even thinking that he could forget it.

Bruce's warm nod neatly nipped whatever rebellious thoughts Nightwing could muster in the bud. "You _are _the first thing in my long life that I could truly be proud of and I am truly sorry that I didn't do more to protect you from all of this."

The younger detective was quick to shake his head back and forth. "I never asked you to protect me from anything."

"That shouldn't have stopped me from trying harder," Bruce replied with more than a hint of remorse. "But I can't protect you anymore either."

The former child acrobat really didn't want to look confused in front of the man he had wanted to be like since he was 10 years old. Nevertheless, he simply couldn't stop himself. "What are you trying to say?"

The Batman removed his cowl with a pained grimace, the uncertainty in the older man's eyes causing the doubt to flood even more through Nightwing's senses.

"I'm not really sure," the older man countered honestly. "I just thought that it was something that I should say."

The longtime partners remained silent within their pregnant pause, the bats flying overhead casting small, flickering shadows over their tired bodies before quickly moving on to other matters.

"I'll help you get in touch with The Justice Society," Dick broke in, the younger man just as eager to break the silence as The Batman but far more equipped to do so. "It's been a while since I've had the time to catch up with Mister Terrific. And just who would go and name themselves Mister Terrific anyway?"

Bruce gave his son a hesitant smile, a gesture so laughably far away from the half-smirk that usually framed the face of The Dark Knight in moments such as these. Now, however, with that instant in the past, the two of them returned to their duties without another word.

* * *

_Karbarra_

Arsenal chose to not even bother counting the number of Manhunters that were either streaking their way towards him or waiting for him to arrive. This decision came about not only because of the fact that he had no real desire to gain any more insight upon the dreadful odds that awaited him but also because that he wasn't really sure if he could count and fly at the same time. So, instead of doing the rational thing and multitasking his way through the path ahead, Roy concentrated his thoughts around gathering the power held within the ring on Powaltik's hand, grit his teeth. . .

And flew right past them.

Needless to say, this wasn't as easy as it sounds. Though he may have gained a few fractions of a second from the bald-faced boldness and unpredictability of the maneuver, it didn't take long for the Manhunters to use their vast neural networks and strategizing abilities to come up with the best way of stopping him. A spray of golden energy helped ward off a small array of his purple-and-blue colored foes but many more bolts of superheated plasma made their way into his flight path as he continued moving forward. Imagining the sight of a grief-stricken Dinah Lance, the closest thing he ever had to a mother, once again working to rebuild her shattered heart after Ollie had left it in ruins once again, Arsenal's terror gave him the power he needed to gnash his teeth and pass through the hellish blaze. Although his dearth of first-person flying skills left him to take a few more hits than he would have liked, he knew that he had to keep pushing through the pain.

He had to keep pretending that he was strong enough to pull all of this insanity off.

A second later and there weren't any other androids in front of him at the moment. The sight of the massive gun batteries looked quite refreshing despite the damage they had wrought before, the enormous cannons looking as if they were just on the cusp of being able to deal out death once again. Blasts of blue energy were quick to wreck the tableau, the Manhunters' efforts to stop him making their presence felt as the androids rushed to catch up. Roy kept moving despite the risk, zigging, zagging, and barrel rolling his way through the chaos as he willed his ring to create an enormous, yellow megaphone that he immediately cast into his right hand. Firing off an array of shots from his Karbarran energy pistol into the air behind him, the smattering of fire bought him just enough time to make a safe landing on top of the reddish-brown stone that made up the floor of the prison pens. The newly acquired stable footing enabled him to concentrate more of his energy on building up his defenses as a hasty creation of an energy shield allowed him the time to take a shot at getting through the next part of his plan.

Unfortunately, that next part of his admittedly haphazard strategy consisted mostly of convincing hundreds of hostile, giant bears to help him ward of an invasion. Hostile, giant bears who, as fortune would have it, did not appear to be too thrilled to have what many of them considered to be just another Sinestro Corps member in their presence.

"I need to speak to Kamon's father!" Roy bellowed over the cacophony of cannon fire that The Manhunters had to offer. "Where is the defense minister?!"

Several long, stressful seconds passed as Roy not-so-patiently waited for some kind of response from his audience. He wasn't surprised to find that he received little more than angry grumbles, confused glares, and the sight of many of the Karbarrans rushing away in order to claim some kind of safety from the maelstrom of energy.

"MY NAME IS ROY HARPER!" Arsenal roared in a desperate attempt to grab hold of his one shot at survival. "I AM HERE ON BEHALF OF THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS! I FREED THE CHILDREN FROM THEIR HOLDING CELLS AND THEY'RE ON THEIR WAY TO THE TRANSMAT SYSTEMS RIGHT NOW!!"

More energy blasts started to stream towards Roy now, his pilfered ring quick to inform him that his defenses would not hold up for long. The peripheral sight of several of the previous retreating Karbarrans beginning to sneak back out of cover may have given the former Teen Titan a flicker of hope but it was safe to say that Arsenal still had a great deal of fear that he could use to fuel his depleted artillery.

"I know that some of you can understand me," he desperately continued. "You don't have any reason to be used by these monsters any more!! You can help me free yourselves!"

"YOU WILL DO NOTHING!!"

The crash of the almost guttural retort was almost as much of a surprise to Roy as his discovery that the Manhunters had suddenly stopped firing. His shock soon gave way to anger as the source for both of his surprises made his presence felt.

Leokar Kurkosaw's massive frame was briefly wreathed within a familiar aura of yellow energy as he landed in front of his dozens of robotic soldiers. The Sinestro Corps general held only one of his massive arms in front of him, the enormous paw supported by girthy, hair-covered skin and muscle holding the Qwardian power ring that imbued him with the phenomenal power that Roy now shared. Both intrigued and concerned by the beast's awkward posture, Arsenal quickly devoted using a smidgen of his ring's power in order to determine just what the former prison warden had up his hidden sleeve.

He regretted the decision almost immediately after making it, his effort made for naught as Kurkosaw quickly chose to reveal what he held in his left hand. The struggling cub was trying desperately to free himself but the sturdy grip that Kurkosaw held over the scruff of the boy's neck provided some firm assurance that the boy would not succeed. Roy's angry hiss was nearly drowned out by the litany of growls, some furious and some sorrowful, of the Karbarrans around him. Still, the trepidation in Roy's face remained to be nearly a mirror image of the fear that could be clearly seen in Kamon's round, black eyes.

* * *

_Anti-Matter Universe_

Those who have earned or wish to earn a position of great power within any select society or culture would do well to study the choices that Sinestro had made over the course of his long existence. The brilliant, frequently cherished, and even more commonly reviled overlord of the planet Qward had, after all, managed to construct a society of his own design almost entirely through his sheer force of will, a feat that many others throughout the stars could, and have, killed for. His every action in his young adult years, from his possession to an Oa power ring to his decades of dutiful service with the galaxy's premier police force to his unrelenting diligence put forth in order to master his acquired craft to the extent that he would have the ability to literally revolutionize the field of spectral energy manipulation, enabled him to steer through the task of establishing a base of power that took root within the world he loved and stretched out to many of the planets and galaxies he had come across along the way. That seedling of influence, steadily tended through years of ruthless brilliance, cold actions, and his heartfelt efforts to maintain stability within all that lived, would eventually allow him to become one of the most powerful and influential creatures living throughout the stars over the course of the last century.

However, those same potential power mongers could perhaps learn just as much, if not more so, from the Qwardian's failures. In fact, his betrayal, coercion, and targeting of his former compatriots within the Green Lantern Corps has lead to a brutal feud that had claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocents and was currently threatening billions more. His blind desire to make his home world a haven for law and order enabled the formation of one of the most totalitarian regimes existing in the cosmos today, a regime responsible for causing the additional deaths of thousands more who either sought to break themselves free from the Qwardian's powerful clutches or fought to defend what they had. His pursuits had gained him many a dangerous enemy including The Guardians of Oa, The Justice League, and, perhaps most notably, Hal Jordan, the Earthling who had formally been his prize pupil.

However, none of those aforementioned individuals or organizations happened to be standing face-to-face with Sinestro within the swirling emptiness that was the anti-matter universe. That honored, in fact, belonged to one Stephanie Brown. Who, as it just so happened, didn't mind having that distinction one little bit. The smile she gave to Sinestro as the powerful autocrat appraised her with his narrow eyes was proof enough of that.

"It's been a while, Miss Brown," Sinestro greeted the Earthling from within the safety of his golden energy cocoon. His candor was precise and strong, possessing a dangerous air of aristocracy that seemed to suit the Qwardian's chiseled features. "The conflict in the Brobagandar system, if I remember correctly?"

The smirk on Robin's face broadened even further. "Good call. Oh, and I also hope you remember that I kicked your Barney-colored ass. Sort of like what I'm gonna do to you now."

Sinestro quirked his head to the left, his large forehead crinkling with a look of feigned confusion. "Is that right, little one? Because I seem to recall you desperately stalling for time until your colleagues within the Corps could arrive and save your hide."

The young Green Lantern endured the harsh (but honest) retort with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "You say 'potato', I say I kicked your bitch ass. Oh, and do you mind if I take some time out to recharge my ring?"

The purple-skinned creature answered with a shrug of his own, the gesture taken by Robin as a silent gesture to carry out her request. "Go right ahead. However, I should warn you that it will not make a bit of a difference."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Stephanie yapped as she began to focus much of her thoughts upon the dwindling power locked within her ring. "But I still like to have a little insurance when I'm about to lay the smackdown on a dictator."

Sinestro looked ready to roll his eyes or demonstrate his contempt in some other form or fashion before the sight of an emerald lantern appearing at Stephanie's side gave him pause. He raised an intrigued eyebrow at the sight, his respect for both the girl and his teacher ratcheting still higher.

"Very few Green Lanterns have acquired the ability to summon their lantern on command," he pointed out as Robin began her familiar chant designed to kick start the necessary energy transfer that would bring her ring back from its dilapidated state. "And even less would be able to pull off this technique under adverse conditions such as those supplied by our current surroundings. Your talents of energy manipulation have clearly grown significantly since our last encounter."

"Wellllll, thank you not very much," the young Green Lantern cheerily replied while removing her ring from the core of her battery, the powerful bauble letting out a distinct hum that went along with the vibrant, emerald smoke that seemed to slither around Stephanie's hand.

Sinestro refused to give in to Stephanie's grousing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, Miss Brown. Just how did all of you come to the conclusion that Parallax was attempting to masquerade as The Anti-Monitor?"

Robin made it a point to stretch out a crick that had built up in her neck before answering. "Well, suppose it was your job to inspire fear in the hearts, twigs, and berries, of all those who were in the mood to fight back against an invading army. What better way of doing it than to pretend that you're the one critter that's done more damage to said good guys that anything else ever?"

The blonde-haired Gothamite seemed to finally succeed in stretching out her tired muscles as she straightened her posture once again. "I probably would have done that same thing if I was in your shoes. Of course, that being said, if I was in _your _shoes then I would have also been smart enough to know that there's no way I'd be able to pull all this stupidity off and would have just gone back to my quiet, little dictatorship. Maybe get a nice mochiatto to go with that decidedly metrosexual facial hair. . . possibly get a new fashion consultant 'cause the black and yellow outfit sooooo does not go well with the grape-colored skin foundation, girlfriend."

Once again, the former Green Lantern chose not to rise to Robin's bait, his closed-off posture remaining firm as he launched into his own share of judging. "You've learned a great deal from your master. The Batman should be privileged, if not just a bit perturbed, to have such a receptive disciple."

Stephanie let out a scowl, her usual poker face showing its first signs of wear. "I'm not a disciple and Batman is not 'my master'. He is my teacher and it's because of him that I'm about to send you and your precious plans tumbling down the toity where it and you belong."

"You misunderstand me, young Terran," Sinestro replied just after blowing out a slightly surprised breath. "I meant no insult towards either The Batman or your admirable allegiance to him. As a matter of fact, I happen to deeply respect his ability to inspire order through fear, so much so that I chose to offer him the opportunity to serve as his sector's representative of my army. However, he chose to reject both my proposition as well as my offering of great power, thus forcing me to search for other avenues of assistance."

Stephanie could feel her brow unconsciously furrowing while she considered all the possibilities behind such a statement. The aura from her ring dimmed only for a heartbeat before it flared up once again, climbing even higher in a mostly unconscious demonstration of defiance.

"You shouldn't feel as if I am insulted by your instructor's actions," Sinestro added while coolly taking in the young woman's confusion. "After all, I have long considered The Batman to be a sound champion of his people and a more than suitable representative for the old guard."

* * *

_Karbarran Airspace_

Hank Henshaw no longer cared just which Green Lantern he had managed to tear apart, his metallic fists quickly becoming soaked with the puce-colored blood that spurted from his victim's spinal cord as The Cyborg Superman tore the alien crime fighter in half. He no longer cared who would win in this meaningless skirmish, who would live, or who would die. In fact, the only two certainties currently running through his positronic synapses were the reality that the battle no longer mannered and the convinction that there wasn't a living soul on the battlefield that could give him what he desired. He envied those that fell under his fists and the blasts of heat that spat from his optic lenses, his few remained vestiges of humanity thirsting for the freedom that came for those who were fortunate enough to be able to be shuffled free from their mortal coils.

He could hear The Flash's heartbeat even through the interference provided by the silence of space, the unnaturally strong thumping running just as strong as it did on his former battleship. The fact that the human had survived only caused a mere flicker of hatred to run through him because, once again, he knew how all of this was going to end. His brief breaking of the script, his minor gamble that yielded no results, would ultimately anger no one. Especially not himself.

Looking for more lives to claim, Henshaw hurtled his way eastward charging past and through Green Lanterns and Qwardian mercenaries alike. Nearly killing Soranik Natu with a blast of heat vision to the back, he swatted aside another Lantern who had chosen to go after him rather than attempt to break through their dwindling blockade. The quick victories had become so frequent to him that he couldn't help but feel a hint of weariness as another blur of green flashed in front of his eyes. Stopping the punch that came his way with an almost effortless palm block, he fired a left jab targeted just so that the whiplash would likely snap the newcomer's neck like a twig.

The fact that he had missed before being hammered by a massive right hook was perhaps the only time he had been surprised throughout the entire affair.

_About time I ran into a poozer who can actually take a punch, _Kilowog thought with a hint of morbid anticipation as Henshaw pulled himself in a quick recovery before returning to take him on. Bringing together his impressive knowledge of energy manipulation and mass distribution just as he had so many times before, the pink-skinned Bolovarian easily parried a blast of heat vision before slamming his porcine face straight into the bridge of Henshaw's metallic skull. The Green Lantern trainer found himself relishing the impact of bone on metal as well as the sight of the Cyborg Superman snarling in frustration. The pace of the battle immediately quickened once again, with Kilowog pouring all of his ring's energy into providing the strength and quickness he would need to stand up to the sturdy and ruthless mass murderer.

"You were foolish to get in my way, beast," Henshaw warned his opponent as they remained locked within both Kilowog's energy bubble and their momentary stalemate. "I would think that you, of all of these so-called dogooders, would understand my plight and struggles."

Kilowog let out a mighty snort that seemed quite appropriate for the creature's high and narrow nostrils. "Yeah, I've done a bit of reading up on you too," he gruffly replied, the hard flaps of skin over the alien's mouth making his voice seem even more subdued. "An' I know what it's like to lose somethin' precious. Still, that don't mean that either one of us have got the right to try and take away what other people care about."

"My power gives me the right to do just that," Henshaw replied as a combined blast from his four Qwardian rings pierced through his foe's energy shielding.

_Yeah, well my power gives me the chance to stop ya_, Kilowog silently countered as he dodged the blast with more than enough room to allow him to surge forward. Slamming his right knee into Henshaw's chin, the Green Lantern hoped that the suddenness of the strike would allow him to gain a momentary advantage. Still, he found himself hardly surprised when Henshaw fired back with a series of fast and efficient counterattacks that quickly put him back on the defensive. Several of the punches and kicks found their mark, each impact sapping away bits and pieces of the energy that his reliable ring had to offer.

_This guy ain't nothing but a_ _machine, _Kilowog bitterly but calmly reminded himself as he struggled to maintain his defenses amidst a blitzkrieg of physical and energy-based assaults. _An' those rings on his fingers means that he kin keep this up for a damn lot longer than I can. _

_Still, that doesn't mean that I can't buy Hal and the rest the time they need to get the job done. That's what I can bring the table._

Fortunately for Kilowog, he wouldn't even have to provide that.

* * *

The half-panicked thoughts rumbling through Roy's fatigued wits caused him to momentarily lose track of whatever Kurkosaw happened to be saying. In his defense, however, Arsenal believed that thinking of anything he could do in order to keep Kamon safe was far more important to him than any egotistical blitherings that 'Dumbo on Growth Hormone', could bestow upon him. Horrified, saddened, and petrified by the sight of a rogue tear slipping from the cub's left eye, Harper continued to sift through his thoughts and strategies as he struggled to figure out what Batman would do. What Superman would do. What Wally would do. What anyone who was a hell of a lot better at this than he was would do.

"It is true that your younglings have momentarily managed to escape my sights," Kurkosaw confessed in picture-perfect Karbarran that Roy was able to translate with the aid of Powaltik's ring. There was a distinct tinge of professional shame in the creature's voice but the knowledge that he still had the upper hand seemed to do a great deal to allay the monster's frustrations. "Allow me to assure you that your fellow prisoners will be found and to remind you that there is still a high crime for attempting to delay the firing of these magnificent energy cannons. Moreover, I hope you will permit me to declare that this. . . _irritant_," he went on while pointing his ring finger directly at Roy, "will soon be eliminated."

Roy did his best not to backpedal as the dozens of Manhunters leveled their weapons straight at him once again. Troubled murmurings, dangerous sounding growls, and the sporadic cursing of Kurkosaw's past and present exploits all wafted into his ears as the hum of the ballistic turbines began to sound unusually loud in his ears.

"However," Kurkosaw continued, "I feel compelled to point out that I have a long-standing tradition of making certain that those I watch over remain well aware of the penalty for challenging my authority. Therefore, I will allow this boy to serve as an example for those of you who still believe that attempted escapes and other efforts of insubordination remain to be possible options."

Roy could feel the tensing of muscles he didn't even know he had as the Sinestro Corps general almost gently placed Kamon onto the ground. Leaning in close to the boy's ears, Kurkosaw began to whisper to the boy, the general's eyes locked firmly on the anxious crowd in front of him. Unable to hear what the fiend had to say to his new and unlikely ally, Arsenal quickly dredged up his Checkmate espionage training in order to read the Yellow Lantern's lips.

_Can you see your mother and father, little one? Do you want to go to them? Go ahead. Run to them. Go on._

There was a brief glint of hope in the boy's eyes as Kamon shifted his gaze back and forth between his captor and the spot where the cub could have sworn he had seen his mommy and daddy. Finally, after several breathless moments, the boy took off at a desperate, four-legged sprint, the thought of being reunited with the people he loved momentarily overwhelming the rest of the ursaroid's senses. His paws were scrabbling across the dirt and rock, the fear in the boy's movements mixing with blind anticipation and sightless hope that only a child can truly have.

And then Leokar Kurkosaw shot the child in the back.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," the murderer once again reminded his captives only moments after Kamon's dead body finished its final slide across the earth. "Insurrection will not be tolerated by the might of the Sinestro Corps. I assure you that the rest of your children shall remain unharmed but only if all of you continue the work that you have been asked to do. . ."

Roy Harper's furious scream, blunted only slightly by the enormous wave of energy produced by the Manhunters as they did their best to eliminate their new target, felt as if it was ripped from the sharpshooter's lungs. Burning the sight of the blackened, scorched fur that lined Kamon's back into the forefront of his mind, Arsenal did all he could to break through the wall of energy that separated him from the former prison warden. He didn't even bother to heed the warnings blaring from Powaltik's ring, the continued caveats informing him that he was attempting to do the impossible. The smell of ozone plunged through his nostrils as the androids began to slowly seep through what little remained of his energy shielding but he still continued to try and press forward.

He had originally thought that he was merely seeing things when a variety of different colored spots seemed to begin to mix with the wave of blue in front of him. The bizarre sight was then quickly accompanied by infuriated howls as dozens upon dozens of Karbarrans chose to hurl whatever they could at their captors while even more chose to dash directly into the dangerous fray. Letting out a sigh of relief as the stress and strain placed on him seemed to lessen with each suddenly occupied Manhunter, Roy fell to his knees as he watched the enormous ursaroids, some of them nearly as tall and muscular as Kurkosaw, charge at the former police officers with unbridled fury. That being said, just as he was getting somewhat comfortable with his new seating arrangement, he felt a pair of burly arms bringing him back up to his feet.

"Is there still any power in that ring?!"

Roy found that he needed a moment to shake his head back and forth before he could fully realize that a Karbarran was speaking to him (and rather roughly, all things considered). Momentarily wondering if he should try to get away, he had enough time to see the sadness in the male ursaroid's large, black eyes and managed to put the pieces together.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I tried to take care of him. . ."

"DO YOU HAVE ANY POWER LEFT OR NOT?!" Kamon's father roared as he held Roy within his massive paws. "OUR CHILDREN NEED TO BE PROTECTED!!"

"Yeah, yeah," Arsenal quickly replied as he performed a brief diagnostic of his ring. _Less than 10 percent left, granted, but it's not like I'm stupid enough to tell him that._ "Where does that transmat system lead to?"

"About 250 kilometers south-southwest. Search for a canyon surrounded by a trio of separate plateaus and you'll find a village there."

"What are you gonna do?" Roy fired back.

The grumble that rose from the snout of Kami, father of Kamon, added more than a little fear to Roy's reserves.

"We're going to give them what they deserve."

Arsenal didn't need any more clarification than that as he took flight towards the destination given out to him. After all, you didn't need a whole lot of brains to realize the price that one could pay for getting between a bear and their child.

* * *

It wasn't as if Kilowog was ungrateful for the appearance of either the enormous transmat portal opening on the outer edge of the battlefield or the sudden flood of Green Lanterns that emerged from the threshold. He even appreciated the sight of The Black Dog firing a series of black energy bolts that forced Henshaw to curtail his efforts to kill him. However, he thought that fortune had been just a wee bit over kind when Kara rushed by him a mere second later to do her own share of damage in the form of a flying body tackle that sent the Sinestro Corps general hurtling away from the three of them. After all, he was quite confident with his well-worn theory that karma had a tendency to work both ways when it came to the battlefield.

He couldn't spend too much time pondering about it all, however, since he soon felt the source of a familiar energy signature come so close that he could tap him on the shoulder without even stretching his arms out all the way. Kilowog turned to see a face that was both as black as midnight and bright as the thousands of stars in the space around him. Indeed, the contrasts provided by the mask wrapped around the face of The Torchbearer, a symbol of the phenomenal power held safely within Kyle Rayner's body, was quite a welcome sight to the pig-like alien.

"_Nice to have you back, little one," _Kilowog reached out through the neural network that all Green Lanterns shared. "_I knew ya had what it took ta get yourself out of all that mess." _

Kyle shook his head back and forth, the shielding provided by his mask failing to hide the relief that was evident in the artist's face. "_I can't take all the credit,"_ he replied, "_Kara and Lloyd had a whole lot to do with it_."

"_Should 'ave known The Littlest Poozers' buddies could pull it out_," Kilowog thought back with a smile, the smirk revealing the pair of jagged tusks that were the Bolovarian's incisors.

"_What's the situation?" _asked Kyle, the younger Lantern eager to get things back on track.

Kilowog, a creature who was usually quite comfortable with those who liked to get to the point, was quick to comply. _"Hal, Wally, and the others just made landfall on Karbarra. We're figurin' they've got the numbers to overwhelm Kurkosaw's forces but it'd be better if we kin break through this blockage and lend a hand. Course, there's also the problem of those energy cannons that have been set up on the planet's surface. They wiped out a good portion of our convoy about a half-hour back and nobody's really sure if they can or are about to fire again._

Ion nodded as Kara and Lloyd made their way back to them, the two busy soldiers looking quite exhausted but still determined.

"_I've just given word to Jordan and Toren to divide our forces so we run less risk of getting blindsided by what's left of Henshaw's security wall," _The Black Dog informed the pair of space-faring superheroes with the aid of his telepathy while he, Kara, and Kyle employed their combined energy manipulation abilities in order to hastily handle the smattering of Manhunters that had been foolish enough to approach them. _"Ion, I want you to join Toren's group and get together with Hal's team on the surface," _he continued as he ran through one of the automatons with his saber while using an energy shield to deflect a blast fired by another Manhunter back at its creator. "_The rest of us can handle things up here." _

"_Hang on!" _Kilowog interrupted while using his fists and feet to add his own helping of mayhem to the proceedings. _"We've got some news from Karbarra coming in from the Corps network."_

"_What is it?" _asked Kara just as she was releasing a blast of arctic breath from her lungs that soon held a trio of Manhunters in its wintry grip.

"_It's Wally!" _Kyle exclaimed. _"Holy shit, guys! You're not going to believe this!!"_

* * *

"Look, can we just hurry up and start with the fighting," Stephanie interrupted Sinestro's latest spiel with her clear showing of impatience. "I mean, I feel like I've been waiting months for the opportunity to kick your teeth in and all you can do is drag me into some kind of gab session."

Sinestro countered with something that sounded like a huff as he shook his noble head to and fro. "I would have hoped that, by now, you would have realized what you're really here for," he said with chiding patience. "I'm not here for some kind of pointless brawl but allow me to assure you that my test for you will come in time."

Robin didn't bother hiding her scowl, the young woman having grown far less comfortable with not getting what she wanted than the times when she had nothing at all. "All right, so if you're not here to let me kick your ass then just what _are _you here for? See, 'cause I've got a planet to save and having a bit of coffee talk with The Magic Moustache Man isn't really high on my list of things to do, even lower since you didn't even have the decency to bring me a Mocha Valencia."

"Then I will avoid trying your patience and jump straight to the point," the Qwardian readily rejoined, the leader looking no more perturbed by Stephanie's latest attempt to infuriate him than he was by any of the previous attempts. "Miss Brown, have you given any thought as to why there were only 3,000 of my soldiers stationed around Oa at the time of your admittedly impressive counter-offensive?"

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders while doing her best to quell the minute flame of worry that had grown in her gut since the moment Sinestro had made his presence felt. "Figured that they were either at Karbarra or defending that power battery that you've now so obviously stashed away back on your home world."

The active field commander of the Yellow Lanterns nodded in consideration, clearly enjoying the confusion in the Green Lantern's eyes. "I suppose I could understand how you came to such a conclusion. However, allow me to assure you that neither of those conclusions are correct."

Though she'd never admit to being the sharpest fork in the fondue set, Robin had been a devoted student of Earth's greatest detective, off-and-on, since she was 15 years old. The lessons she had haphazardly learned during that time had left her more than equipped to grasp at least an inkling of what her clever foe was taking such pleasure in insinuating. Nevertheless, despite being well aware of the deductive capabilities of his quarry, Sinestro continued to soak in the suspense as he moved closer to the young Green Lantern, his hunter's grin spreading wider and wider across his tall but narrow face.

"So the question now becomes," the vicious gentlemen started again once he was within 5 feet of Stephanie's face, "just where, oh where, could the remainder of my army, a force nearly 7,000 strong, possibly be?"

The two heroes, former and potential, were now face-to-face, the warriors floating only a foot apart. A nasty scowl framed Stephanie's face, the fury pouring from the woman evenly matched by the impassive air that Sinestro chose to counter with.

"This was all another step in setting out to do what we've been wanting to do for quite some time. It has long been our goal to even the playing field in order to determine who truly deserves to rule over what we have worked so hard to defend."

The revelation was told in a whisper but the words hit Stephanie Brown like a cannon blast. Her mind briefly flashed away to the slaughterhouse on Katina and the bodies that lined the streets of Star City. Then to the sight of Bruce standing on the frozen plateaus of Northern Antarctica, his calm words of inspiration pushing her to do what she could to make sure that such tragedies would never happen again. Two years of spending the vast majority of her waking hours doing her best to help create and support something that would help achieve their goal and she could almost feel the pieces coming apart from the slowly forming puzzle.

"Tell your leader that we will be waiting for him, Stephanie Brown. Then we will determine who truly deserves to inherit the earth."

Stephanie suddenly reappeared on the outer fringes of Karbarra with a blinding flash, the turbulent energies of the anti-matter universe making the seemingly impossible trip quite achievable. Her eyes remained wide as she felt her chest rising up and down, her breath spilling from her lungs and wafting to the edges of her energy shell in barely perceptible waves.

"Oh, shit."

* * *

Their feet perched on the edge of a dusty plateau a good 200 feet above and away from the goings-on, Kara and Lloyd had finally found, after nearly two straight days of searching, the time to sit back, relax, and take in the sights.

And what a sight there was to be taken in. Hundreds of Karbarrans, young and old, were celebrating their freedom with barely reserved gusto. Many of the adult ursaroids kept their children close to them throughout the festivities, perhaps instinctually but unnecessarily protecting their loved ones from any further harm. Some of the other grownups, however, were more than happy to let their offspring run about. Many of the cubs were happy to take their parents up on the offer, the braver and more playful children capering and enjoying the freedom that should rightfully thrive within such young hearts and souls.

The half-Kryptonian wiped a bit of dirt off her pant legs as she shook her head back and forth in continued disbelief, a bright smile on her face the entire time. "So do we have any more info on how all this weirdness came about?"

Lloyd, who had been whistling a cheerful tune for quite some time now, turned his head and shut his lips in order to answer the question posed to him. "I've picked up bits and pieces o' it but somethin' tells me we'll have to ask Harper if we wanna get the whole story."

The Black Dog took a look around at his surroundings, using his telekinesis to briefly levitate a loose rock that had been cropped into a crook of the rock face. "Still, from what I've managed to glean, Arsenal somehow snuck his way into the compound, stole a Qwardian power ring and then used it to break the baby bears out of their prison pens. Then, without the little ones to hold over their heads, the mamma bears and poppa bears were more than happy to show Kurkosaw and his Manhunters that they weren't very fond of their present working relationship."

Kara let out a loud laugh not only because of Lloyd's explanation but also by the sheer absurdity of it all while Lloyd seemed to busy himself with another round of whistling. She looked down in order to take a gander at the guest of honor as Roy continued to be shuffled, thrown about, and occasionally carried on the shoulders of the many Karbarrans who were looking to show their appreciation for his labors. Though she thought it all looked kind of uncomfortable in her eyes, the tired but cheery grin on Arsenal's face was a good sign that the red-haired sharpshooter was enjoying the spotlight.

"And what about Kurkosaw?"

The Black Dog once again brought his whistling to an abrupt stop, the mild pause between the end of her question and her friend's response causing Kara to feel a mild hint of annoyance. "Seems the big time general decided it would be a good idea to take 'is leave once all the heavy hittin' started up. Woolly bloke made his escape through the Sinestro Corps transmat system so it'll be a damn tricky sight to try and track 'im down."

Kara slowly nodded her head, more than satisfied with the answer. After all, working with the Green Lantern Corps to help end the lives of over 2,800 Sinestro Corps members, including Abin Sur, Lyssa Drak, and Parallax, not to mention having destroyed or captured nearly 5,000 Manhunters and Qwardian mercenaries while rescuing Oa and freeing one of the galaxy's most prominent military production planets are all activities that most would consider to be a good day's work. Throw all of them in together, in fact, and most would say that it was a job well done.

However, that didn't stop Kara from wondering just what the hell was compelling Lloyd to whistle.

"Why on Earth are you doing that?" she asked pointedly but with a hint of a laugh. "That's the third time you've started up that little ditty and I still can't figure out what you're singing."

Lloyd tilted his eyebrows just a hair or two upward, a quiet gesticulation that Kara found to be rather cute on him. "Ya tellin' me you don't recognize it? C'mon, pet. I know you've heard it before."

Kara rolled her eyes, if only to relieve herself of the exasperation caused by the dropping of Lloyd's pet name for her that he loved to use and she loved to hate. "All right," she relented while stretching her long legs across the rock face. "Start it again. From the top."

Lloyd gave Kara a winning smile, the young man more than eager to follow Kara's request. He began his tune again, placing extra emphasis on the occasional note in an effort to stir the young woman's memory. Kara, in response, made certain to listen intently, her mind transforming the whistling into steady beats.

_Da-dum, da-dum, da-da-da-da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum, da-da-da-da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum da-da-da-da dum da daaaaa. . ._

The laughter erupted from Kara's lips as soon as she figured it all out. Within moments she was whistling along, her airy intonations mixing well with Lloyd's deeper pitches. Several peaceful seconds later, after finally finishing up the final verse of _The Teddy Bears Picnic_, The Black Dog and The Last Daughter of Krypton both found that their eyes were still locked on each other.

Kara surprised herself by being the one to break the silence.

"I. . . I really don't know what to do here."

Lloyd's head bobbed up, stayed there for a moment, and then dipped low before returning to center.

"I don't really know either."

The shy, slightly sad smile on Lloyd's face made a lot of Kara want to do a number of different things. Some of her wanted to run away. Some of her wanted to wrap her arms around the handsome man staring her straight in the eyes and feel the warmth of his embrace in return. Yet another part of her wanted to bring her lips to his before moving on into far less innocent pursuits that she had been thirsting for a great deal longer than she cared to admit to anyone.

She did her best to find a more neutral line. "Maybe the problem. . . is that. . . there's been a whole lot of words between us," Kara speculated as the two of them began to inch closer together. "Maybe. . . maybe this time. . . actions would be better."

The Black Dog did his best to look nonchalant while he battered down the sudden, nervous urge to swallow his Adam's apple. "Yeah. Actions. Actions. . . would be. . . rather nice."

Their lips were a mere inch apart when a flash of emerald washed over their eyes and caused Kara and Lloyd to jump in surprise. Their shock soon gave way into a combination of excitement and relief as they quickly identified the source of the interruption, a disheveled but quite alive Stephanie Brown.

"We were so worried about you!" Kara exclaimed, her desire to rush to her friend quelled by the sudden urge to stay close to Lloyd. "Are you all right?"

"You have no idea how much I hate you right now," Lloyd added, the blunt comment causing Kara to give Lloyd a patient glare that prompted The Black Dog to relent.

"Guys," Stephanie said, the alarm in her voice clearly indicating that she was in a state of near panic. "We are so much in trouble."

"I really wouldn't go that far," Kara replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "I mean, sure we've got a lot more members of the Sinestro Corps to mop up but I think we've won a big battle here."

Lloyd felt inclined to agree but the rapid back-and-forth movements of Stephanie's head caused him to give pause. "What's goin' on, Steph? What's wrong?!"

Robin took in a sharp breath, the exhaustion of her non-stop trip to her big brother's side finally starting to kick in.

"Guys. . . we didn't win anything. All we did was swap planets!"

* * *

_Earth_

Nearly 7,000 members of the Sinestro Corps had gathered a mere 100,000 kilometers from the enormous space station commonly referred to as The Watchtower, the facility that was often labeled to be Earth's first and finest line of defense against extraterrestrial forces. Their field commander had anticipated that it would take no less than 20 minutes to annihilate the entire facility along with anyone who was foolish enough to defend it. The rest of their opening itinerary, a planned path of calculated destruction constructed over the course of the last seven months, was specifically designed to smash the planet's key defensive points with such speed and accuracy that it would be nearly impossible for the invading army to fail.

Hank Henshaw and Leokar Kurkosaw, the two standing field commanders of the main attack force, stood at the forefront. Their looming presences stood tall over even some of the most vicious and sturdiest of Yellow Lanterns and provided a bizarre sense of inspiration for the many warriors who feared the ultimate consequences of their past and future actions.

"_When will we be given the signal to advance?" _Kurkosaw asked irritably, his snout expelling several specks of mucus as he did so. _"I am eager to repay these Earthlings for the humiliations brought upon me by their brethren."_

"_Have patience, Leokar," _Henshaw answered. His tone, even through the telepathic network, sounded a great deal more reserved but it was clear that he too wished to exact vengenance. "_Our field commander has gone through great lengths to make all of this possible. It is his right to lead us to our inevitable victory."_

"_Indeed it is," _replied Vincent Culp, co-leader of The Sinestro Corps and the maestro behind the mayhem to come. _"Now proceed with the operation."_

Henshaw and Kurkosaw were quick to comply, their charge prompting the thousands upon thousands of warriors to soar towards their own destinations.

"_It is time to create what we deserve_," The Silver Coyote informed his army.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, another loooooong issue in the books, an issue that was far longer than I had ever anticipated (and no, Rachel, you can't slam your head against the keyboard just because I said that). I think a big part of it is that there's so much stuff that I want to write about in this arc, especially since we're coming to its conclusion in about a month's time, that I just feel like I can't leave anything it. Call me a literary packrat.

Oh, and Captain Deadpool. What do you think of the "payoff" so far? As for the rest of my loyal readers and reviewers, thanks as always for paying attention to me and allow me to promise you that this is going to keep on trucking. Speaking of which, I owe all of you an issue preview.

* * *

Issue #70 Preview

Everything goes to hell. Yeah, that's pretty much it. Or, if you want me to get a little more descriptive, lots of stuff gets blown up, people die, and the bad guys win. Fun, huh? Join in the celebration in two weeks time by reading the penultimate issue of _Power Play_ and the next installment of The Misfits: Planned and Preemptive Strikes. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	70. Judgment of the Damned

Issue #70

Issue #70

Judgment of the Damned

"I can't believe those god damned, sons and daughters of fuckin' bitches found a way to bone us up the ass _again_!!"

Although the decidedly profane remarks made by the recently mutilated Guy Gardner were a bit more detailed than what his companions would have had to offer, his words, and the emotions behind them, were closely mirrored by the seven tired warriors walking alongside him. The fair-haired former teacher continued to snarl as he continued to move quickly, a metallic cast holding the stump that was once his right arm in place as he strode forward. Although neither Batman or Nightwing happened to be among the collection of soldiers making their way towards The Big Whale, it hardly took a master detective to realize that the mop-topped brawler was quite eager to pay back the plethora of people who had pissed him off.

Unfortunately, recent events had revealed that doing so would be a great deal trickier than anyone had previously anticipated.

"Just how in the hell could the Sinestro Corps manage to disable your transport systems?" The Flash asked as he tried to maintain his composure.

"The Guardians 'r presumin' that the Oa and Qwardian power rings are so similar that they could 'hack' their way into the system," Kilowog replied. "We might have been able to hold it off if we had been at full strength but. . ."

"But they drew us out just like they wanted to do the whole damn time," Guy spat out over the porcine warrior's far calmer remarks. "And now its gonna take weeks for us to get back to Earth since we can't fix the fuckin' transmats!"

"The rough estimate is 27 days and 9 hours," Hal clarified as he put a hand on Guy's shoulder in an effort to placate his fellow Lantern. "That is, of course, if the transport crafts can remain at maximum speed throughout."

"These ships were made by Mao's best engineers. They'll get the job done so long as ya navigators do theirs."

Lanterns and Misfits alike all turned around in response to the terse words of Lloyd Thomas as he trailed behind them. The words that came from The Black Dog's lips were firm and unyielding but the look in the man's eyes was anything but. Stephanie did her best to give her big brother an encouraging smile but it didn't take her long to figure out that Lloyd had his eyes on the blonde-haired woman standing next to her. It was something that she would have been more than happy to tease him about but she also knew what lay behind that look.

Not to mention the fact that she had just realized that she had broken up one of the few opportunities where her two pathetically shy friends could work up the nerve to make a move on each other, a discovery that had made her want to ram her head through the nearest space shuttle in frustration.

She was never a big fan of watching her plans fall apart.

"This wasn't your fault, Lloyd," Kara said softly but simply, the woman surprisingly heedless of all the eyes and ears focused on her. "You can't keep going and blaming yourself for every bad thing that happens."

"I'm the one who knows him better than anyone else," Lloyd fired back angrily, his resentment baldly directed straight at himself. "I could have stopped this if I just took a bloody moment to think!"

"And we could keep on passing the blame all day but that doesn't keep us from the fact that we've got a job to do," Hal brusquely interrupted the potential angst around him.

"Actually, we've got two jobs to do," Lloyd responded, his professionalism slightly restored by Hal's words and the worry in Kara's eyes. "There's only one way we're gonna be able to stop Sinestro and Vincent's army without turnin' the Earth to cinders and that's by shutting down their power battery."

"Yeah, which means that some of us are gonna have to Qward," Robin threw in, for once eager to contribute something other to the exchange than sarcastic one-liners. "Which we know is where the power battery is thanks to my sheer fabulousness."

Well, perhaps not a great deal more.

"It's gonna take just as long, if not longer, for us to get there than it will be for the rest of ya to get back to that home world of yours," Kilowog countered. "An' we can all bet our bottoms that the purple poozer ain't exactly gonna make the trip to get to that battery a cakewalk."

"Still, we'll be able to coordinate our attacks through the Guardians' communication systems, right?" Kara asked as she turned her eyes toward Hal then to Kilowog in search of an answer. "That way we'll be able to make sure that none of us are flying in blind?"

"Yeah, at least the fuckin' floating blueberries subbin' as The Guardians can do that little for us," Guy Gardner answered while also his rather unflattering description of the creators of the ring that had allowed him to achieve glory as an space-faring warrior. "Of course, I'm more than happy to leave the task of kickin' Sinestro's teeth in to me. Just remember to keep out of my way as I'm doin' it, al right?"

"I don't know," The Flash said rather critically. "I've thrown down with The Magic Moustache Man before and somethin' tells me that he's not just gonna sit there and let you beat him to death with that stump," he added just before Stephanie burst into laughter and Guy flipped him off with his one remaining middle finger.

"I still don't understand why I'm not going back to Earth!" Kyle snapped, the star lights within his face mask shining with the frustration rolling through Ion's senses. "I'm one of the strongest fighters we have. . ."

"Which is why you're comin' with me and the rest of the Corps when we go to Qward," Kilowog firmly replied as he moved his bulky body in front of the path of his former student. Kyle's white, temporarily iris-deprived eyes briefly looked away from the resolved expression in the Bolovarian's squat eyes before turning to meet it head on. "Hal's already got Guy, a whole bunch of Lanterns, and Tha Littlest Poozer's friends ta help him take care of things back on Earth."

Kyle shook his head back and forth, clearly not fully swayed by the argument provided by his colleague. However, before he could state his case, another interested party made their presence felt.

"Ion, the only way the lead plane can fly straight is if it can keep track of what's flying in front of its eyes," Hal told his former replacement and current colleague as he dug his sturdy fingers into Kyle's shoulder. "How about you let this old wingman watch your back for a little while?"

The mask over Ion's face slowly slipped away, the honest and handsome face of Kyle Rayner emerging once again. He took a moment to examine the sincerity in Hal's eyes before shaking his head back and forth, his black hair gently swaying as he did so.

"You just want to steal all the glory."

Hal pursed his lips as he gave the half-serious observation a once over. "Yeah, you're probably right," he answered Kyle as some of the others chuckled around them. "Dinah always did say I was quite the diva."

"And if the two of you are done with your disturbingly swishy male bonding rituals," Stephanie crudely interrupted. "Maybe we can get this flamin' show on the road. I've got some big, purple, sissy alien forehead to kick."

Kilowog shook his head at both Guy and Stephane as both of his former students quickly boarded The Big Whale with Wally just a few steps behind. The war veteran then turned to Lloyd, examining the Earthling for a moment or two before extending his girthy arm. "I wanna tell ya that we couldn't have done this without ya, kiddo. Whatever you're goin' through, I want ya to remember that."

"Thank you very much," Lloyd replied with a hint of stiffness before shaking the warrior's hand. "We'll make sure to keep contact with your group on a daily basis."

The Black Dog looked on silently as the Bolovarian scientist and warrior nodded before turning to join Kyle on his trip back to the tall, unblemished buildings that constituted the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps. Despite being quite responsible for the fairly pristine state of the structures he happened to be staring at, not to mention the rest of the planet that came with it, the doubt and self-blame continued to hang over him like a well-worn shroud. He could once again feel the cold fissure in his gut, the cleft that always seemed to open whenever he had failed yet again, begin to yawn open as he began to take stock of his situation.

This time, however, unlike many of his past struggles, somebody had joined him in the gloom.

"What do you want us to do?"

Kara's question was as uncomplicated and precise as the emotion within her crystalline blue eyes. She made no efforts to touch Lloyd or to move closer to him, opting instead to wisely remain still until her friend was ready to reply.

"'E's viewin' this as a test," Lloyd replied hoarsely. "Fer you, me, Steph, and Wally an' if we're gonna pass this examination then we're gonna have to cram."

"What do you mean?" asked Kara despite being well aware of the answer.

"We need to train," Lloyd replied as he began to move. "We need to get smarter, stronger, faster, and more aware of just what we're capable of an' we've got a month to do it in. We've got to. . ."

Lloyd felt a hand clamp over his right bicep before he was harshly turned back around.

"Don't shut me out!" Kara blurted out, her eyes and her voice infected with just the slightest hint of fear and desperation. "This wasn't your fault and there's no reason for us to put our armor back on."

The Black Dog found himself momentarily turning away from Kara, a calm expression suddenly blanketing over his face where a spurt of unknown emotion had been just a moment before. "I'm not shutting you out," Lloyd said with only one eye on his listener. "But the bottom line is that The Silver Coyote won this round because we took our eyes off the prize. If we're gonna have any chance at makin' a comeback then we're gonna have to be able to do the same."

"I don't believe that," Kara said tenderly as she slowly swerved her head from left to right. "I think that's a lie and I know that you think it is too."

The Black Dog had both of his eyes on Kara now. "Maybe so," he confessed. "But. . .," he was struggling now, caught between searching for the right words and the desperate need to say what he wanted to say as soon as he could. "I gave you time. I'm just askin' if you can do the same for me."

The half-Kryptonian fought the urge to bite her lower lip as she took in the sadness on Lloyd's face. She only barely managed to pull it off, her front teeth briefly grazing the dark pink rim of skin before she got things under control.

"All right."

* * *

_The Watchtower_

_FRA-KA-KOOOOM!!_

The detonation that rose from the underbelly of the massive satellite and shook through even to the satellite's central core was, at least according to J'onn's math, the eighth such detonation in nearly two minutes. However, the Martian Manhunter continued to hurriedly push his way through the space station's data stores as everything seemed to fall apart around him, his jade fingers sweeping across the multitude of keyboards at a phenomenal rate of speed. The long, narrow strips of elongated flesh and tough bone appeared to be nothing but blurs as the figurative spinal cord of the Justice League simultaneously held sway over both the defensive measures and the information wells that the team's space-based headquarters had to offer. He couldn't be sure if The Silver Coyote or any other member of his army was truly interested in retrieving any of the information he was attempting to either eliminate or transfer but the simple truth of the matter was that it was a risk that could not be taken.

"Is there any way that we can hold these guys off until help arrives?" asked Jefferson Pierce, the man known by many as a former Secretary of Education and by even more as Black Lightning. There was a tinge of worry in the expressions put forth by the former Outsider and current Justice Leaguer's but a clear note of determined urgency could also clearly be heard. "How long do you think the station will hold?"

J'onn briefly turned to his unfortunate companion, the red, emergency lights shining down on the man's shaven scalp. "That will depend upon how much of the task force will attempt to target us. Jefferson, although they have eliminated the teleportation systems, there may still be an opportunity for you to make your way to the escape shuttles. . ."

"I can't just leave you alone up here with these monsters!" Black Lightning countered fiercely. "Especially with you wounded like this!"

Performing a brief self-inspection, J'onn couldn't help but agree that he had seen better days. The many burns, bone fractures, and pockmarks that had been forced upon him by his White Martian brethren had only just started to heal and what he was doing now offered very little time for proper recuperation. Of course, to believe that he wouldn't be able to overcome such a minor inconvenience would be laughably foolhardy. He had nearly been burned to cinders by Fenris, ripped apart by Darkseid, and had endured the near extinction of his people and everything he had ever held dear.

This was nothing.

He quickly moved to prove that as a trio of Sinestro Corps members rounded the corner and soared into the nerve center, their golden auras and stray thoughts all giving off a hideously malicious intent. J'onn, however, remained stone-faced as he deflected the Yellow Lanterns' opening salvo with a sturdy, telekinetic shield while stretching and twisting his resilient flesh and muscle. Within moments he had transformed himself into a dragon-like beast he had first seen in one of the mythology books from his home world, a creature nearly twenty feet high whose sharp talons had given him nightmares as a child. The power in J'onn's red eyes forced the invaders to give pause as well, a length of lost time that was more than sufficient enough to allow him to employ his newly formed claws to tear into and through the flesh and bone of his unwanted guests. What was left of the interfering trio fell to the once-sterile floor with a series of wet thumps, sounds that went unnoticed as the Martian Manhunter hastily redevoted his attentions to the task at hand. Tossing a Thangaarian hand cannon in the direction of his shocked colleague, he performed a telepathic scan in order to properly determine just what he was going to be up against.

"I'm not really a fan of using these things," Black Lightning couldn't help but confess as J'onn finished his examination, an assessment that forced a grimace on his already stern countenance. "And don't you think that was a little bit extreme?"

"There's more coming," J'onn replied, the detective and warrior simply not having the time or the energy to discuss any pressing issues of morality.

His statement was given a nasty dose of truth as another regiment of Lanterns, four in number this time, surged their way towards them. J'onn could hear the hum of an enormous array of static electricity as Black Lightning prepared to launch the most powerful attack he could muster in the short window of time that had been given to him. Meanwhile, J'onn turned and slammed his right fist into the lead Sinestro Corps soldier as the bluish-white electrical energy merely fizzled against the force barriers around him. Swerving around a desperate slash from a golden energy sword with the aid of his elastic flesh, his slide to the left put him in a perfect position to snap his attacker's arm with a harsh kick before using the creature's body to shield him from the others.

Despite all the chaos that buzzed around him, the Martian Manhunter still managed to keep an open ear on the buzzing sound that had emerged from The Watchtower's communication systems. Using a combination of a simple voice command and his own telepathic capabilities, the busy fighter quickly transferred the audio feed into a voice that broadcasted through his already taxed mind.

"J'onn!" yelled Dinah Lance, the heroine known as Black Canary sounding reasonably distressed. "The Sinestro Corps has surrounded The Hall of Justice," the current chairwoman of the Justice League announced over the dim of the battlefield that the team's land-based headquarters had become. "Can we use the satellite's teleportation equipment to ship out the lab techs and the wounded?"

The last of the Green Martians used a telekinetic bubble to deftly avoid the spray of purplish blood that emerged from the torso of his latest victim before taking the time to reply. "I apologize, Black Canary. Sinestro's soldiers made certain to make that system their first target. I am afraid we cannot be of any assistance in that matter."

"Well, then what the hell are we supposed to do?!" Dinah yelled back, a definite hint of panic sinking into her voice before she managed to regain her composure. As his longtime friend began to provide greater detail of what was going on around her, J'onn once again realized that many of his standing peers, for all their gifts, strengths, and abilities, were simply not quite equipped to handle the psychological rigors that came with a true war, a conflict where the desire for survival worked quickly to blurry the lines of morality in everyone's eyes and the ever-active sweep of death's hand was all too eager to scoop up those that fell just a mere step behind. He momentarily pondered over just how many of those he cared for would lose their pace today as he snapped the neck of another Yellow Lantern but the brief melancholy was quickly eliminated by his desire to determine how he could save as many as he could.

"You must contact Batman," J'onn replied as he swatted another Sinestro Corps member aside with a swipe of the back of his elongated left hand. "He will be able to help us further the defensive measures that will allow us to save what we can."

"Batman?" Black Canary asked over the sound of a loud explosion. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

Any response that J'onn could make was quickly cut off with the arrival of a blur that easily cut through the Martian's current intangibility and smashed the jade-colored warrior into the main computer terminals. A jolt of pain that could only be caused by a pair of broken ribs flashed through his already overwhelmed senses as the sparks crashing down around J'onn threatened to set him on fire. Recovering quickly, he employed a telekinetic force bubble to ward off any ill effects from the electrical heat while his standing telepathic scan warned him of even more members of the Sinestro Corps flooding into the now destroyed room.

"Now I may not be able to read other people's thoughts," admitted Hunter Zolomon as J'onn worked to recover from the speedster's initial assault, "but something's telling me that things aren't looking too good for the both of you."

* * *

_New York City – Morningside Heights_

The annals of the long and storied history of the Justice Society of America has always made certain to leave some room for the occasional destruction of the legendary squad's base of operations. Ted Grant, in fact, would often say that they had lost so many headquarters, command centers, and other valued properties over the years that he thought it was amazing that there was someone left in The Big Apple who would be stupid enough to give them any kind of property no larger than a mailbox. Still, the towering mansion just a mile south of Central Park was quite the place to take up space what with its numerous personal suites, the variety of state-of-the-art medical and training facilities situated in the facility's lower floors, and the latest in Waynetech model architectural interfacing that essentially allowed the manor's caretakers the opportunity to endless change or reconfigure the enormous home to meet the ever-changing needs of its rapidly shifting array of inhabitants.

Of course, all those bells and whistles didn't keep away the fact that, when all this was hullabaloo was said and done, some major repairs were going to be needed in order to bring the mansion back up to par. A pair of Yellow Lanterns involuntarily crashing through an enormous stone pillar at the center of the JSA memorial museum only added to the repair bills as the most significant source of the damage let out an angry breath.

"Just when we finally manage to set up shop you assholes just have to come crashing through!" Karen Starr all but spat, the heroine known to the world as Power Girl voicing her frustration at anybody who could listen. The buxom blonde powerhouse and current chairwoman of the JSA was quick to continue taking out her aggravations on anyone wearing a Qwardian power ring, her short, closely-cropped blonde hair fluttering back and forth as she used every bit of her bone-crushing power and extraordinary speed to cause as much damage as she could. Always ready to throw a fist at those she had long struggled to protect, the former resident of Earth-2 quickly became the chief target of the invading force, their eldritch baubles shooting forth waves of energy aimed straight for the gorgeous engine of destruction. She hissed as a golden lance of energy burned into her shoulder and grit her teeth as she returned fire with a blast of heat vision that caused a great deal more harm to her aggressor than what it had done to her.

"And of _course _this would have to happen when _I'm _in charge," Power Girl added as she looked to and fro for somebody else to hit before casting her bright, blue eyes on the three men who had chosen to watch her back. "How did you guys ever put up with all of this?"

"A great deal of patience," offered Alan Scott as the veteran Green Lantern overwhelmed his foe in a brief energy duel that ended with his ebony-skinned opponent hurtling through the lobby. Wielding the eldritch energy made available to him by his Oa power ring as skillfully as an Olympic skater glides across the ice, the founding JSA member quickly created a variety of solid-light constructs designed to help even the increasingly dire odds.

"I've found that having the time to stop and take a breath was also pretty valuable," added Jay Garrick as the original Flash zigzagged around a yellow net of injury designed to ensnare the man currently moving at about half the speed of sound. The silver hat on the top of the old man's head seemed to glitter from the shine of the halogen lighting above as he grabbed the tusked creature that had tried to capture him before using both the creature's bulk and his own speed to send another pair of Sinestro Corps members tumbling to the ground with his newfound weapon.

"I just settle for letting these eggheads do all the thinking," Ted Grant threw in as he somehow managed to wrestle his exponentially stronger opponent to the ground. Moving with a speed that shouldn't have even been possible for someone who was old enough to have gone toe-to-toe with Joe Louis, Jersey Joe Wolcott, and Rocky Marciano in their primes, the hero and trainer known as Wildcat delivered a series of stiff rabbit punches that disoriented his staggered foe even further before smashing his left fist into what the old man had hoped to be the critter's occipital ridge. "'Cause, let's be honest, all I've really got are these mitts o' mine," he added as he quickly lifted himself off of his now unconscious opponent.

"Did we manage to get all the junior members out?" Power Girl asked as she rushed forward in order to cut off a group of new arrivals surging into the expansive memorial. She twisted herself into a tight barrel roll that allowed her to avoid the series of shots aimed for her before lashing out with a right hook that crashed across her target's cheek.

"I just got word from Michael," Alan shouted back over the energy exchange and the crashes and explosions around him. "The blast doors managed to hold up long enough for them to get the kids out. Damage, Hawkman and Sandman left with them to make sure they got to the reserve base safely."

_Well, there's a relief, _Karen thought as she felt a wisp of her short mane of golden hair being singed off as the result of a near miss from a ray of yellow energy. "Remind me come Christmas time to put a nice Bible under the tree for Mister Terrific."

Power Girl's strained rejoinder was immediately followed by a series of mechanical _whirrs _as an assortment of small, floating spheres pushed their way into the proceedings. Though the tiny globes appeared to be absolutely harmless, perhaps something to be found in the latest Disney/Pixar summer blockbuster, the plasma lasers and electrical charges that spat from the tiny weapons were anything but. More chaos came as additional spheres created holographic images and laser grids designed to confuse and stall the attacking force even further.

"I'd rather have the chance to borrow that Asimov collection you're always so eager to brag about," countered Michael Holt. As was often the case in times of trouble, the face of the genius, hero, and inventor known to many as Mister Terrific was covered with his familiar "T-mask", a complex series of nanomachines that enabled the man behind the mask to control the vast array of spheres with nothing but his thoughts. Employing his impressive but all-too-human agility, the former chairman of the Justice Society was quick to put himself in a position where he could be easily defended by his more powerful colleagues while still playing his part.

"I have to admit that I'm a little surprised that the kids would be so quick to listen," Jay Garrick couldn't help but admit as he whisked Mister Terrific to safety from a yellow splash of energy that, if it had connected, could have easily melted the flesh off the man's bones had it made contact.

"Maxine was the hardest one to convince but her grandmother was just about to get her out while I was coming up here," Mister Terrific replied once he and his rescuer had returned to a normal speed. "Still, I would have assumed that she, out of all of our younger associates, would have been smart enough to see the reasoning behind all of this."

The oldest Flash couldn't help but chuckle, the salt-and-pepper haired speedster skillfully avoiding everything being thrown at the both of them. "You know, Michael, I hope that, one day, you'll learn to understand that a teenager is a lot more complicated than a physics equation," he informed the man who prided himself on being considered the third most intelligent man on the planet.

"All right, then let's get the hell out of here," Karen ordered her older colleagues as she performed a quick but effective circular arm drag of another Yellow Lantern in order to give herself a bit of breathing room. "'Cause Rao knows we're not gonna win the fight he_uggh!"_

Power Girl's observation was cut short as a quartet of golden energy beams slammed into her, the force of the attack pushing her straight through the brick walls of the mansion and down to the paved streets below. Although he had little time to avert his gaze from the battle around him, Jay Garrick had more than enough time to catch the distressing sight of Hank Henshaw making his way forward, the Cyborg Superman showcasing the four Qwardian rings on his unyielding, metallic hand. More concern began to bubble in the thoughts of the elderly speedster as Ted Grant leapt forward, the old warhorse doubtlessly eager to pay Henshaw back for his blindside attack.

"You old men sicken me," Henshaw said in his cold, mechanical draw as he batted away Wildcat as easily as most would swat aside a mosquito. "For decades you have refused to surrender to the inevitability of time, to accept the nothingness that I have prayed to receive."

The Sinestro Corps general was quick to focus his energies on Alan, the Yellow Lantern attempting to overwhelm the tired JSA founder in the same way he had rid himself of Power Girl. However, the veteran Green Lantern was a great deal more experienced than Henshaw's previous victim and that familiarity allowed him to counter with a concentrated blast of jade energy that successfully staved off the android's opening assault. Although the power advantage was certainly in Henshaw's favor, Jay knew his old friend well enough to realize that Alan wasn't trying to win. Placing Mister Terrific back on solid ground, the silver-haired speed merchant put all his speed and muscular density into the task of delivering a wicked right cross that sent the android hurtling out of the mansion in a spray of brick, glass, and mortar.

"You set him up," Jay began.

"And you knock him down," Alan finished as the two old hands continued to look for a way to get out of all of this alive.

* * *

_The Batcave_

The Batman slowly stretched his fingers against each other, the soft creak of his gauntlets sounding almost comforting to him as their guest continued to recap the latest information that had been sent through their particular pipeline. Nightwing remained rooted to the seat on his right, his son trying hard to look as calm as possible but the utter stillness of the armrests that Dick had wrapped his hands around told Bruce more than he needed to realize the truth. The older detective then briefly turned to his left, giving a steady stare to Talia as his former lover observed the guest on the monitor in a far more unruffled manner. Her exotic beauty tempted him for just a moment too long, however, causing the leader of the League of Assassins to slyly tilt her gaze towards him in a rather chiding manner, a subtle warning to her beloved to pay attention to the task at hand.

"Our surveillance footage gathered from the Croft-Mere satellite is telling us that the force is slightly over 100 in number. Furthermore, nearly all of them appear to be equipped with the same magical artifact that Sinestro wielded at the mêlée in Metropolis nearly 18 months before."

"I apologize," interrupted The Calculator over the confident statements of the figure on the main monitor, "but the actual term for the objet d'art is Qwardian power ring. Also, the precise number of the force is 114 and it also appears that Edgar Cizko is leading them and he is the only one who does not appear to be in possession of the figurative symbol of the Sinestro Corps."

Amanda Waller didn't even bother to hide her frustration over being disrupted, the White King of Checkmate turning her sharp gaze at the suddenly cowed computer expert.

"Perhaps my more precise results were merely due to having more time to monitor the situation," Noah added rather meekly as he rushed to clean his glasses.

"It doesn't matter if they're 100, 114, or 114,000," Nightwing broke in. "The bottom line is that we just don't have the manpower to take on a force like that without some major back-up."

"I agree, Nightwing," Waller went on. "However, that fact does not take away from the reality that there is a regiment of an alien army surrounding Waynetech's Gotham or the actuality that Cizko has also made a demand."

"And just what would this stipulation be, Miss Waller?" asked Talia.

Waller's image on the computer remained solely locked on The Batman, as if the military official simply chose to disregard the other woman's presence. "They want The Batman," she replied thickly. "Or, to put it in their own words, they demand the old guard to make their presence felt in order to determine who has the right to watch over the world."

"And if I refuse?" The Batman asked, the shadowy vigilante already reasonably aware of the answer.

The deep sigh on Waller's lips held a note of sympathy, something that shocked Bruce far more than the words that were to come. "Batman, they're saying that if you don't get there in a half hour's time then they will carry out a full-scale attack on Gotham City."

The four humans taking up space within the catacombs underneath Wayne Manor remained still as each of them mulled the matter over. Batman remained still the longest, the Dark Knight of Gotham choosing to ignore the colorful cursing and frustrated questions coming from either side of him.

"Just how much support are you able to provide?"

Waller quickly ceased her efforts to appease Dick and Talia and returned to the task at hand. "I'm sure you can understand that things are a little tight right now. However, even with the dwindling of resources and the short time window, I should be able to manage about 200 as long as I can make a few clever rotations. I know it's not much but. . ."

"It will have to do," Batman concluded as he rose to his tired feet. "I'll summon what forces I can and meet you there in 25 minutes."

Nightwing stood up with far greater urgency than his father, the younger detective eager to tell Batman what he thought about all of this.

"You cannot do this!"

However, just as he had opened his mouth, he realized that someone had beaten him to it.

"What do you expect me to do?" Batman hissed back. "You know I can't just sit idly by while they threaten to destroy everything I've sworn to protect."

"Yes, and they know that as well," Talia countered, the determination in her eyes just as strong as Bruce's. "My beloved, these are not nameless thugs and ruffians committing easily forgotten crimes that you swore your life on working to prevent. This is an _army_, an armed and organized force who have clearly chosen to target you in order for you to serve as some kind of an example for others that would oppose them."

"Much like your father had so frequently yearned to do on many occasions," Bruce offered defiantly as he moved to the left in order to swerve around the loved one in his way.

"Don't think that I'm so foolish that I'll fall for your lashing out!" Talia hissed as she stepped in the way once again. "I am not about to let you throw away your life away for nothing!"

The head of The League of Assassins found herself freezing up for a small part of a second as she felt a familiar pair of hands firmly grip her upper arms. She kept her eyes locked on the determined gaze in Bruce's blue eyes, the strongest symbol of the strength of mind she had fallen in love with nearly two decades ago.

"I don't plan on doing so," Bruce said gently before making his way to the hangar in long strides. Nightwing rushed to follow, the former acrobat eager to try and succeed where Talia had failed.

And, for the second time, he was stopped in his tracks.

"Richard, we are going to lose him if we don't do something!"

Talia's remark was nothing but an urgent whisper, the tone behind the words affected sharply by the note of dread in the woman's eyes. As much as he didn't care for the woman he had locked eyes with, as much as Nightwing hated her for toying with his father's heart so many times (at least that's how he thought it to be but he imagined that Bruce and/or Talia would disagree), he also knew honesty when he saw it and it rang strongly through Talia Al-Ghul.

"Then we need to hurry up and think of a way to help him," he replied with the same honesty and sincerity. "Just like we have always tried to do."

Nightwing looked on as Talia tilted her head in scrutiny. He suddenly thought, if he worked up the energy to squint his mind's eye, that he could see an unusually motherly tinge briefly flickering onto the woman's fair features before she maintained her composure. The both of then nodded their heads in a silent pact before following Batman to the hanger in lock step.

* * *

_KRACK!_

Despite not really having the time to do so, J'onn couldn't help but watch as Jefferson Pierce fell to the floor, the majority of the bones in Black Lightning's neck fractured or broken well beyond the point of repair. The man's murderer stood above him, the yellow and crimson blur growing slow and thick until it retained the normal frame of Hunter Zolomon. The confident smirk on Zoom's face was mirrored by many of his surrounding subordinates, the several dozen members of the Sinestro Corps all aiming their Qwardian power rings at their one surviving target.

"What do you think, alien?" Zoom asked after briefly breaking his toothy, predatory grin. "I got the idea from Wonder Woman. I mean, I know I didn't get the neck around as much as she did with Max Lord but I think I deserve some points for the effort."

J'onn narrowed his eyes as Zolomon's laughter was soon joined by other such waves of mirth from the murderers around him. The jade-skinned telepath and telekinetic would have quite liked the opportunity to rip the cruel smirk from Zoom's face but his warrior instincts told him that such a chance would not be forthcoming. A small part of him was tempted to run blind, to attack in a mad rage in a desperate, noble, but ultimately vain attempt to avenge the life of a man who had so quickly became a friend but the detective in him reproached his impulses and for even thinking of such a profoundly stupid way to die.

So, just as he had so many times before, J'onn J'onnz chose to do what needed to be done.

"I was just so tired of the lines," Zoom quietly admitted as he stepped over the latest of his many victims that had piled up in his journey to discover what he had become. "The good and the bad. The right and the wrong. There won't be any more confusion when this is through, J'onn. We're going to change it all."

J'onn discovered that he had to put quite a bit of his willpower into keeping himself from emitting a cynical round of laughter at Zolomon's remark. How many times had he heard such words throughout the course of his long life? How many poor or wretched souls honestly believed that they could create something through focused destruction? It had started with his brother, who was willing to sacrifice their entire way of life to twist their society in what he wanted it to be, and the familiar goals and intentions continued to run through both his colleagues and his enemies as he traveled among them in the decades to come.

It even infected him.

"It's just as I've told all of you before," Zoom went on. "Those of you who live through all of this _will _be stronger for it. Of course, the problem now is that I don't see a great many of you coming out of this alive."

The last of the Green Martians struggled to keep his equanimity as the hostilities within the thoughts of the creatures around him ratcheted even higher. However, even through all the pervading interference, J'onn made sure to keep his scarlet eyes on their leader, his senses taking in Zoom's self-assurance as it appeared to radiate throughout every bit of Vincent's second-in-command.

"What's wrong, J'onn?" asked Zoom. "Don't you have anything clever to say?"

J'onn's response came in the form of transforming his body into a clear mist. As his body became more and more tangible, words began to spill from his lips.

_I am truly sorry, Jefferson._

"Watchtower Response Command Whiskey-Foxtrot-Bravo-One-Nine. Begin self-destruction sequence."

* * *

"Leave me _alone_! Mr. Scott! Mr. Grant!! HELP ME!!"

Mr. Terrific and the three living founders of the JSA all turned their attentions to the source of the desperate scream. The dread could be seen in each of their eyes as they caught the sight of Maxine Hunkel, the teenage crime fighter who had begged to be known as Cyclone among her teachers and her peers, trying desperately to escape from the clutches of the monster that had ensnared her. Her already pale skin had become downright pallid in the midst of her panic, her rich red hair on the top of her head and the freckles that dotted her cheeks becoming even more distinct within the horrific tableau.

Of course, this contrast was aided tremendously by the ominous presence provided by Maxine's captor. The massive frame of the elephantine beast was wrapped in some kind of green and black military garb from the top of his neck to the tip of his toes, the formal wear looking remarkably pristine in the midst of the chaos surrounding the battlefield. He was clearly having no trouble at all with the task of restraining either the scarlet-haired teen or the phenomenal wind manipulation abilities she had been learning to properly harness. The nostrils at the tip of his long, thick trunk seemed to slither towards Cyclone's face, as if the stalk of flesh and muscle wished to examine the tears sliding down the girl's cheeks.

"You are far too young to engage in such warfare," Leokar Kurkosaw coldly informed his prey while Alan Scott and Mister Terrific did all they could to break through the energy cocoon constructed by the Sinestro Corps general. "Your lack of judgment is your crime and I shall have the honor of carrying out your penalty."

The hideous growl that broke free from Ted Grant's lips coincided horribly with the blast of golden energy that ripped through Maxine Hunkel's stomach. Wildcat continued to rush at Kurkosaw as Cyclone fell lifelessly to the carpeted floor, the punches of the former heavyweight champion proving to be no more effective than if he had tried to break through solid steel. Finding himself to be in a rather good mood, the Yellow Lantern allowed the old man to land three consecutive shots before catching the old man's right hand in his much larger, much sterner grip.

"Given your supposed surplus of battlefield experience and the wisdom that arises with old age," Kurkosaw went on with unconcealed contempt. "The lot of you should have known better than to allow the young to do the fighting for you. That is your transgression."

It was Alan Scott's turn to scream as he watched one of his oldest friends being burned alive, his ring quickly informing him that the wounds Ted had suffered would most certainly be fatal. The fury roaring through the oldest of Earth's Green Lanterns fueled his tired bones, enabling him to fire the strongest blast of eldritch energy he had mustered in years. The force of the assault clearly surprised Kurkosaw as he was hurtled backwards, the protection of the beast's energy shell protecting him from serious harm. Wanting nothing more than to finish the job he just started, the World War II veteran found himself nearly wrenching off the hand that had stiffly grasped his shoulder.

"We can't win this fight," Mister Terrific informed him with as much as composure as he could muster. "Not like this. Jay's already got Kara and we need to get out of here while we still can."

It only took less than a second for Alan to regain his senses, his prudence once again moving to cover the festering wound of more soldiers lost in their never-ending conflict. Wrapping Michael Holt and himself within the sternest energy cocoon he could produce, he moved out of the ruins of the mansion with as much speed as he could gather.

* * *

Encased within a golden energy bubble supplied by one of his few surviving soldiers, Hunter Zolomon couldn't help but feel phenomenally boxed in. Of course, it had been nothing short of a miracle that he had been able to escape the force of the explosion that the Martian Manhunter had put into motion. In fact, it was only through a combination of the hyperacceleration of his molecular movement and his phenomenal leg strength that had allowed him to find a way to get away safely. On the other hand, as fortunate as he was, that didn't keep him from being forced to endure the chuckling at the other end of his comm. link.

"Well done, psycho in the big, yellow condom. Really great job. Makes you wonder why Vincie didn't just go through my original plan and send'Marvin the Martian' a box of poisoned Oreos."

The frown on Zoom's face grew even more pronounced as Doctor Psycho all but cackled. "I got my part of the job done," the former FBI agent coldly reminded his unwanted audience. "And I'll pluck that Martian's head off his neck the first time he pops it out of the ground."

"Well, not that I don't have any faith in you," Edgar Cizko fired back with more than a hint of doubt, "but ou'll pardon me if I don't pre-order my bottle of Glenlivet that's gonna go with my Martian corpus collossum."

"So sorry for the inconvenience," Zolomon growled back.

"Just get your lemon-scented ass back to H.Q. and fire up the Tivo. Goodness knows I don't want to miss what's comin' next while I'm busy playing Torture The Bat."

Despite his frustrations, Zolomon couldn't help but let out a hint of a smirk.

* * *

_Metropolis – The Daily Planet _

_This is the problem with the wonders of global communication_, Lois Lane glumly reflected as she pored over the latest news updates that the CNN website had to offer. _W__e're able to deliver the bad news that much quicker to that many more people._

It hadn't taken long for the news of the world to become flooded with reports of sightings of an alien army, the massive force striking a number of targets both domestic and abroad nearly simultaneously. One grouping had been seen in San Francisco, the small portion of the invading militia doubtlessly making their way to the headquarters of the Teen Titans. Other, larger forces had been sighted in Beijing, Gotham, Moscow, New York and Washington D.C. as more and more of the world's metropolitan centers that also served as hearths for the superhero community came under fire. The largest force, however, was reported to be circulating around Themyscira, the considerable collection of assailants doubtlessly searching for the home of the Amazons and the world's best chance for repelling whatever they were bringing to the table.

It was all quiet in Metropolis. That fact alone, at least in the keen and investigative mind of the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, meant that whatever was in store for them was quite nasty indeed.

"Ahhh! You're worrying too much, Lane!"

The raven-haired reporter was tempted to roll her eyes but ultimately gave out a playful snort as Jimmy Olson leaned over her work desk, the man's unruly mop of red hair threatening to fall over his forehead as he swayed forward. The longtime cub reporter and personal assistant to Jimmy White had a long-standing habit of producing such a reaction among his nearest and dearest, the expert photographer somehow managing to maintain a bizarre form of youthful joie de vivre even as he was approaching his thirties.

"Jimmy, I know I'm not one to talk when it comes to avoiding the obvious," Lois coolly replied, "but the world is going to hell in a hand basket and I can't cover what's going on and you're telling me to stay calm? I mean, granted, we've gone through quite a few of these. . ." _Almost as many as the number of times I've been knocked unconscious while stuff like this was happening,_ she added to herself.

While Lois was pondering, Jimmy shrugged his shoulders, the brightness in the man's features accentuating his lightly tanned skin. "Come on, Lane! We've been through a lot worse than this. And besides, we've got _Superman_!"

Lois found that she couldn't hold back a small smile as she soaked in her friend's optimism. Indeed, they did have her husband, a man who had raced off to the nation's capital the moment J'onn had warned them of the impending invasion. She even had all the evidence in the world that could tell her that she shouldn't be worried for the safety of the man that had wrangled her heart into his infuriating clutches over the course of a decade of working together. Of course, that didn't stop the back of her mind from forcing her to remember the memory of him lying on the broken streets of Metropolis, his dying body moistened by his drying blood and her falling tears.

_Please let him be safe_, Lois prayed to whomever would listen as the elevator doors slid open. A stranger emerged from the entryway, the mere sight of the man setting off all kinds of alarms in her mind. Keeping her eyes on the man as he marched forward with even, purposeful strides, the fact that he seemed heedless of the many eyes locked upon him caused her apprehension to rise again. In response, she slowly rose to her feet and began to move as well, determined to see what this was all about but Jimmy slid into her path.

"I've got this," he whispered back, his voice sounded far more sincere and mature than before.

"You sure?" Lois softly asked back.

The redhead briefly turned around, the glimmer of childish poise once again returning to his eyes. "Come on. If I can handle Darkseid then I can handle this video game villain wannabe."

Jimmy was on the move before Lois could provide an adequate reply, the young newsman moving to intercept the new arrival. "All right, now what's going on here. . ."

The lash of the man's blade was impossibly quick as it easily severed Jimmy's head off of his shoulders, the spray of blood corresponding with the screaming and fear that now soaked the news floor. As the rest of Superman's oldest friend fell to the floor, the unfamiliar man easily caught the gentleman's skull within his left hand without losing so much as a step. As reporters and photographers alike continued their mad dash for any form of safety they could find, the murderer simply dropped his victim's head onto Lois's desk as he locked eyes with the only person in the room who had remained still.

Never one to mince words, The Silver Coyote went straight to the point.

"Miss Lane, please tell your husband that I wish to speak with him."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

First off, allow me to cheer and revel over the fact that this little story that sort of could has received its 500th review (and yes, Rachel, I do believe you deserved to be the psycho who posted it). As I've said many times before, the feedback and kind words I get from you guys are a big reason why this little series o' mine is still going strong. That being said, I have to admit that this is merely the second draft of this issue. You guys usually get the third draft but, to be honest, I've got to get to work in a few hours and I want to make sure that you guys get your biweekly hook-up while I still have the time to provide. I'll make sure to make my final edit sometime tomorrow but my apologies for any nasty mistakes I may have made. Speaking of which, allow me to provide a wonderfully vague preview!

* * *

Issue #71 Preview

Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent. Together, these two men have not only served as the foundation for this planet's current generation of superheroes but have also inspired many of those that have chosen to follow. Many say that they represent the greatest that humanity has to offer, symbols of the brilliance of human potential and what everyone could strive to be. And now, in front of the eyes of all who honor and respect them, they will fall. Watch it all unfold in two weeks time as _Power Play_ comes to its shocking conclusion with the next installment of The Misfits: Gaia Errare. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	71. Terra Errare

Issue #71

Issue #71

Terra Errare

_Devon_

Agnes Brown had been actively searching for ways to ease the tension she took from life for as long as she could remember. In fact, that pursuit had become an active tradition that had defined a great deal of her life and how it turned out over the course of her 41 years. She could even remember her seventh birthday, a sunny, summer day when she drowned herself within the company of her many surrounding friends just to block out her memory of several hours before: her father, yelling at her mother at the top of his not-so-healthy lungs, to go and sleep off an alcohol-induced stupor that she had picked up from the long night before. Of course, she had little way of knowing what she knew now, how her social drowning was just a ways and means of coping with the unavoidable stress and strain. All she knew at the time was that she wanted to feel better than she did before.

In the 30-plus years that had passed since that memorable occasion, the mother of Stephanie Brown had employed many other methods of fulfilling that unending desire for relief. Casual romances that led to nowhere or worse, a marriage that was doomed well before it started, and a series of addictions to a variety of habits and substances were all efforts she had employed to overcome the pain that seemed to come with her simple existence. It still troubled her how she often had so little information when it came to comparing her struggles with those of others or with dealing with the endless questions of how others would respond if they were going through what she was going through. The lack of provided answers, not to mention the likelihood that others had the solutions that she spent so much time and energy seeking, always seemed to nag at her senses.

_And how small my problems are, _Agnes thought as she cast a fitful glance at the bronze sconces that lined the hallway she was strolling her way down. _Maybe it's just like that video that Stephanie was always fond of watching. 'So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure how amazingly unlikely is your birth.' _

. . .

"_And just where did all that come from?" _she couldn't help but ask herself.

She knew she should have been comfortable here, ensconced within this picturesque, country estate situated smack down within the southwestern British countryside. The antiquated, brick-and-stone citadel that The Flash (or Stephanie's friend, as she kept having to remind herself) looked to be something straight out of a travel guide complete with the long shadows cast throughout the walls and the tendrils of emerald ivy draped on and over the sturdy, sandstone walls. Other varieties of lush forestry populated the grounds outside, coniferous and deciduous creations of Mother Nature allowing more than enough shade and comfort for the vast variety of local wildlife that seemed to cluster on the grounds. In fact, the whole area around seemed to radiate with some bizarre form of serenity that the longtime Gothamite simply couldn't identify on her own, the sensations around her feeling as if they didn't belong in the same place or planet that she had long called home.

"I trust you haven't merely lost your way, Miss Brown."

Agnes didn't even so much as jump at the sound of the tidy, soft British lilt that drifted her way as another pair of footsteps joined hers on the stone floor below. Turning to meet the source of the gentle suggestion, she gave a hesitant smile to the woman who had been kind enough to show her around the area over the course of the last several days. The woman's features seemed quite appropriate for her surroundings, her lightly-tanned skin and subdued but attractive countenance a perfect fit for the subtle beauty of the part of the world she called home. The small smile on her lips was fitting as well, the gesture slight but so genuine that it nearly rankled Agnes's normally sarcastic nature.

"You're certain I can't fetch you a cup of herbal tea?" the woman asked as she moved to stand side-by-side with Stephanie's mother. "I've always found it to be a good way to relax and it would be no trouble at'all. . ."

"No. . . No, that's all right," Mrs. Brown quickly replied, her face turning away from the concern and sympathy being sent her way. Try as she might, however, her curiosity soon got the better of her and she found herself swerving back around.

"Aren't you worried?"

Agnes's audience, a raven-haired woman in her early thirties, tilted her head a good twenty degrees to the left in response.

"About what?"

Agnes found that she had to bite back a wave of irritation caused from what she thought to be a very condescending response. However, the young woman now known as Robin didn't get her inclination of bulling her way forward from her father and Agnes wasn't about to back down either.

"Well, my daughter's friend. The one that told her that I would be safe here. Boyd, wasn't

it?"

"It's Lloyd, actually," the other woman said with a slight giggle.

"Oh. Oh, dear," Agnes exclaimed as her hands fluttered up to her cheeks. "I'm sorry I. . ."

"It's quite all right. Believe me, I've heard him being called a great deal worse."

Agnes accepted the gentle pardon with a nervous laugh of her own. "I mean, I know I haven't exactly been a model mother," she tried to explain while stifling the urge to clench up her fists. "But I did know enough to know about what Stephanie was doing with her nights for the past few years. Doing what she thought was right." She clamped her eyes shut as she continued to struggle to find what she wanted to say. "Aren't you worried about your son?"

Naomi Mitchell's eyes widened as she involuntarily considered the false presumption that her companion had made. "Oh. No, no. I am not Lloyd's mother," she replied with a hint of unnecessary strictness. "I mean, that isn't to say that I am not worried about him. . ."

The older woman shut down Naomi's sputtering with an upraised eyebrow, a sense of mischief flickering through her pale, blue eyes that would have seemed quite familiar to many of the current inhabitants of Wayne Manor. "She always loved to jump into any kind of trouble she could find," she went on with a wistful shake of her head. "And there was so many times when I just couldn't protect her from it all, even when I actually knew how to do it. And now she's a million miles away fighting God knows what. She could be dead now and I wouldn't even know it!"

The former genetics researcher for Project Cadmus gave Agnes a quiet nod, well aware of what the older woman was going through.

"I apologize, Miss Brown. However, as much as I would like to do so, there isn't a great deal of assurances I can offer. In times like these, the only thing that we can do is to hope that they are prepared for whatever life has to throw at them."

"BUT I DIDN'T PREPARE HER FOR ANYTHING!!" Agnes spat back, the revelation causing her eyes to widen and then water as the hopelessness in her heart began to fill the rest of her. "I had a little girl who needed me to be there for her, who needed somebody who wasn't popping pills or jumping into the same, doomed relationships time and time again. She needed somebody who had the answers."

Agnes could feel the quivering rising from her shoulders as Naomi smoothed her hands across her clavicles, the older woman realizing that the doctor was merely doing what she thought she could to soothe a small portion of Agnes's pain.

"God, there's nothing I can do for her now, is there?"

Dr. Lugae's former assistant was quick to adopt the same tender, temperate smile she had cast upon Lloyd and Vincent so many times before. "Miss Brown, drowning in our own desperations in times like these is one of the easiest things we could possibly do. That's a part of occasionally being on the sidelines in life. We have to shovel our way through, day after day after day, without ever knowing when we'll ever be able to climb upward. It is difficult and trying but we must keep doing it in order to help the people that expect us to keep moving. They deserve that more than anything else in this world because they would do the same for us."

Agnes let out a wide sigh as she worked up the courage to look Naomi in the eye.

"And what happens if what we find is even worse?" she asked hollowly. "What if there is no happy ending?"

Naomi's smile remained slight but sure. "Then at least we know we still have the strength to keep looking for it."

* * *

_Metropolis_

It was always so achingly simple for Clark Kent to soak in the shocked exhalations and cheers of support that rose from the people of his city as he flew above them. Even now the formless call sounded out through the fluttering of his thick, ruby-red cape as the heavy bit of cloth his mother had sown for him fluttered through the high winds as he passed through the city's skyline at nearly 150 miles per hour. However, the usually uplifting sound was now nothing more than an unwanted roar, an unnecessary distraction made even more pronounced by the hollowed out space in his heart.

He swerved his way around a flock of geese flying southbound, their startled squawks only adding to the palpable cacophony ringing through his ears. He could feel the wind wafting through the cuts and tears that sullied the stark S-symbol emblazoned on his broad chest, the damage wrought from a frantic battle for control of The Hall of Justice that had left dozens of innocent civilians dead, hundreds more wounded, and the lives of Connor Hawke, Kendra Saunders, and Zatanna Zatara hanging by a thread. However, as callous as it may have sounded, none of those thoughts could manage to escape from the jumble of contemplations that were easily abandoned by the subconscious of his mind. There was only one thing in the forefront now, a dense assemblage of memories of a man that the world had been robbed of far too soon.

_Ah! Don't worry about the daily rejection from Lois, Clark! We've got bigger fish to fry! Like that new science exhibit at the Metro that I'm just itchin' to get some pics of! _

His velocity doubled without even realized that he had poured on the speed.

_Are you okay, Supes? Is there any way I can help?_

His speed doubled once again, his usually majestic presence in the eyes of the citizens below becoming nothing but a red, blue, and golden blur as the surrounding brick and glass threatened to shatter and crumble in his wake.

_Guys! I'm tellin' ya that Superman wouldn't do that! People are always saying he's doing things that put us in danger and he proves us wrong __**every **__time. He'd never let us down._

Superman's baby-blue eyes, the star of the All-American stare that had graced the covers of countless magazines, newspapers, and film reels, turned a stark crimson as a phenomenal heat began to burn through the Kryptonian's retinas.

_I believe in you, Clark. No matter what._

He crashed into the silver-haired figure at twice the speed of sound, his pace quickly sending them through dozens of office buildings and an enormous array of glass, brick, and mortar as the two of them traveled westward. Their combined pace ratcheted even higher as the seconds wore on, hitting Mach 30 as they passed over the Sears Tower, Mach 50 as they hurtled over Smallville's expansive corn fields, the sound of tractors doing their autumn work buzzing through the Kryptonian's ears, before finally topping off at eighty times the speed of sound as the two of them came to a sudden stop over the Rocky Mountains, a full 1,200 miles away from their shared point of origin. An enormous squall was quick to follow their sudden stop, the blast of wind digging into the snow-covered mountain caps below and lifting a sizeable degree of dispersed water and shattered stone into the cold, mountain air.

And Vincent Culp laughed.

"I haven't made you angry, have I?"

The force of Superman's opening punch produced another gust of air that slid past the Silver Coyote as he avoided the Kryptonian's right arm by a distance of a few inches. Dozens more of these assaults, delivered by both participants, were quick to follow, the vast majority of which were either avoided or parried by the opposing fists and feet. The solar and mystic energy that circulated the sudden battlefield began to take its hold on the surrounding environment as the skies grew darker and the air grew warmer and thicker, as if nature itself seemed to surrender to the phenomenal force exerted by the alien and half-demon. The determined scowl on Superman's face remained firm through it all, the noble, lantern jaw at the base of his handsome face just as firm and resolute as the twinkle of mockery in Vincent's eyes.

"I don't honestly see why you're so upset," The Silver Coyote confessed as he began to backpedal. "It wasn't as if I rid the world of anyone important."

A telepathic summons removed the katana from Vincent's scabbard and sent it into his right hand nearly a half-second before a blast of heat vision threatened to sear the skin off of his face. However, the mystic properties of the long blade had no trouble at all in deflecting the dangerous attack and soon left the two combatants back within their standing stalemate.

"In fact, let us be honest," Vincent added with a sneer. "It's hardly a secret that your constant need to coddle and protect that insect has robbed you of so much of your potential. You had the power and presence to make a true change to all that was going on around us. You were someone who could have fought the battles that needed to be endured in order to keep the world the way it should be."

The Man of Steel remained still as Vincent pointed his katana at him with an accusatory air.

"But you couldn't bat away your need for adoration, could you? You couldn't ignore all the worthless approvals and your need to nurture your self-concocted delusion of moral superiority? You just _had _to listen to all those worthless souls who worshipped your presence as you passed overhead and that red-haired fool was right at the top of your cheering section."

Superman's eyes narrowed as Vincent's own pupils changed from their normal blue to a foreboding shade of smoky gray.

"Quite frankly, you should be thanking me."

The roar that ripped free from Superman's lungs was muted by the series of sonic booms that rose up as the Kryptonian zoomed forward and delivered an enormous haymaker that crashed across Vincent's jaw. His jaw shattered by the previous impact, The Silver Coyote was wise to avoid the follow-up punch with the aid of a timely bit of teleportation before attempting to ward off the charging hero with the aid of a silver blast of eldritch energy. The condensed wave of magical force was easily blunted and then overwhelmed by the searing, red rays that poured from Superman's eyes, the alien's solar batteries producing so much ambient heat that the crowns of the majestic mountains several hundred feet below began to wither and melt from the strain. Seeing no other reliable option, Vincent charged forward with his blade held in a front block, the assassin determined to sink the numinous weapon into the heart of his incensed challenger.

A swift swerve to his left and an equally fleet shoulder block allowed the Man of Steel to rid Vincent of his cherished blade. He followed up his brilliant counter with a fast and precise left hook to the side of Vincent's head and a right uppercut that sent the bloodied leader of the Sinestro Corps hurtling higher into the sky. The assassin's short path was hastily cut off with a double-handed blow that crashed across the base of his skull, the force of the follow-up sending Vincent plunging towards the jagged precipices thousands of feet below. The loud _kerrrrash _that resulted from his violent collision soaked through the ears of the silver-haired man, the frantic beating of his heart providing the rhythm track as his strained muscles and organs went through the motions of bringing his punctured lungs and other vital organs back to life.

Superman wasn't about to give his enemy the time to recover, descending to the ground in a red, blue, and golden blur that caused a great deal of debris around his opponent to be swept aside. He stood prone over Vincent's body for a hundredth of a second before he began to lay into the younger warrior, hammering Vincent's face and chest with punch after punch after fury-fueled punch. Bones snapped like wet kindling and rich, red blood began to run thick from Vincent's mouth, nose, ears, and forehead as the vital fluid was forced out of his taxed system as his body was being battered again and again.

Finally, after seconds that seemed like years to both men, the onslaught was done. Thick breaths slipped from both men as Superman rose to his feet, his blinding fury beginning to partially subside. Vincent kept his eyes on his confident challenger as Earth's greatest hero rose to his full height, the clear sight a near comfort that quenched the agony-soaked haze the rest of his body was enduring.

"Go ahead and kill me," the silver-haired man said with a ragged gasp. "Maybe. . . maybe that way you can learn to. . . to do what you were supposed to be doing all along."

Clark Kent took a moment or two to breathe before providing his response. The memories of Jimmy Olsen and his goofy grin and his boundless optimism and his. . . his _goodness_, seemed to be playing through the mind of Earth's greatest hero in a constant loop as he considered his options.

"Do you know how many times you freaks have said things like that to me?" he asked with a low whisper as his scarlet gaze turned even brighter. "And do you know how many times I've had to worry about what may happen if I kept taking the high road? How much more good I could have done if I had wiped you and all of your kind off the face of the Earth long ago?"

The smile that Vincent had to give to Superman was frighteningly genuine, the half-demon's blood slipping into his teeth as the red liquid ran down his upper lip and onto and through his gleaming incisors. One look at that crimson-tinged beam was enough to prompt Clark to shift his eyes back to their normal shade of baby blue.

"But I'm never going to go down your road. Because if I do, you win."

Vincent's smirk only grew wider.

"Are you done?"

Superman felt as if his gut had exploded.

* * *

_Gotham City_

Wayne Tower had seen a great many things throughout its 17-year reign as the tallest building within one of America's most enduring commercial centers. It had weathered terrorist threats, financial panics, rigorous transitions into an increasingly more globalized economic landscape and even a cataclysmic earthquake that had prompted no less than the United States government to label the city around it a "no man's land". However, throughout all of that, this building stood tall and defiant, enduring the ceaseless winds of change with the same, silent strength of the man the structure was named after. It had become nothing less than a symbol of the city itself, a stark, bold edifice that had proudly staked its claim within the ever-changing world as something that would absolutely, positively refuse to move.

However, all that didn't stave away the fact that the battle taking place on the tower's 42nd floor was threatening to tear the very foundation of the structure apart. Much of this damage could be attributed to the hundred or so members of the Sinestro Corps that buzzed in and around the sky scraper, their combined power enough to destroy the current battlefield and the city around it several dozen times over with the greatest of ease. However, more than a smattering of the blame could also be cast down on those souls, noble and ignoble alike, who had poured themselves into the task of defending it. A force that, despite their superior numbers, was well aware of the futility of the task ahead of them.

Nigel Thornton had quickly emerged as the biggest contributor to the chaos, the rotund, British bartender using his short-handled, double-bladed hatchet to tear into anything with even the slightest hint of a golden tinge around their bodies. His pursuits had proven to be frighteningly successful, at least in the eyes of the alien warriors that had quickly chosen to give the squat fellow a wide birth upon discovering that the mystic properties of the man's axe, when combined with his own impressive physical strength, was more than enough to pierce through their protective cocoons. Hearty laughs could frequently be heard bellowing from the fat lips of Mao's former bodyguard as he continued his short, blood-soaked travels with each nick, cut, puncture, and broken bone he both suffered and inflicted seeming to heighten his merry mood.

Meanwhile, a good fifty feet away from the spiky-haired Brit, Slade Wilson was seemingly doing whatever he could to match the impressive pace set by his swarthy compatriot. While not been blessed with Nigel's impressive physical gifts, the man who had been known and feared for decades as Deathstroke the Terminator did his best to make up for it by bringing his near unparalleled battle instincts to bear as often as he could. He demonstrated this with the first member of the Sinestro Corps he encountered, moving quickly to ensnare the creature's hand before shattering all six of the beast's fingers. The bellow of pain and the torrent of fear that flooded the thoughts of his beleaguered quarry allowed him to grab a hold of the rest of his opponent's body, enabling him to twist the creature's arm around so that the panicked blast of golden energy that spat from the creature's ring crashed into another pair of Yellow Lanterns who were coming their way. He found himself letting out a sinister chuckle as he slid his favorite sword through the neck of his unwilling partner, the man with the iron-gray hair quick to search for another target.

However, as encouraging as these exploits could have been, it was safe to say that they were quite the isolated incidents. In fact, only a scant few of the others who had chosen to fight the Sinestro Corps had even a slight degree of accomplishment. Knockout had been moderately successful in the short going, the former Fury's rage and lust for battle enabling her to take down a trio of her cosmically-powered opponents before the impact of a quartet of energy blasts slamming into her shoulders and torso had flung her out of the battlefield and into the front window of a Starbucks 600 feet away and 5,000 feet below. Ragdoll had suffered a similar fate just moments before her, his broken, unconscious body currently sandwiched quite uncomfortably within the broken remnants of the roof of an Escalade he had crashed into at nearly 200 miles an hour. Arrowette and Deadshot had both managed to collect a pair of headshots with their weapons of choice before they succumbed to the heat of the battlefield, the both of them now riddled with pain from the energy scarring caused by the golden blasts that lit up the battlefield. Other bodies, dead or wounded alike, had quickly joined them upon the floor of the cluttered battlefield, many of them Checkmate agents or Talia's assassins that had become nothing more than cannon fodder for the engines of destruction whirling around them.

It was only through the combination of great skill and the potency of the energy weapons supplied by Amanda Waller and her agents that the small group at the center of the battlefield had managed to stay alive for so long. Nightwing had tried his best to stay close to his father, the former acrobat trying hard not to be frustrated as Talia and Scandal's timely shots from their plasma rifles frequently succeeded where his batarangs and smoke grenades would fail, but now found himself separated once again. He was now fighting alongside Ubu, a man who had been just as diligent, if not more so, with the task of protecting his master. The badly split lip and the first-degree burns that lined the big man's formerly hairy chest served as stark symbols for the price of his loyalty and attentiveness.

"This is, _hurragh_," the longtime bodyguard exclaimed as he used his vast knowledge of leverage to momentarily stymie a Yellow Lantern that was trying to attack Nightwing from his right, "hardly how I would be expecting to spend my afternoon, Mister Grayson."

"Yeah," Nightwing couldn't help but agree as he slammed both of his escrima sticks into the head of the albino-like creature that the hulking assassin had heaved his way. "I'd rather be working my way through a _Big Bang Theory_ marathon myself. I don't know why but I'm really starting to feel a connection with how Leonard keeps having to put up with Sheldon."

Thanking his lucky stars that he had somehow managed to survive for several seconds more, the man in the domino mask took a brief moment to think about whether or not Ubu would inquire about his latest pop culture reference before Amanda Waller's stern voice rang through Noah's comm. link.

"Batman, we've lost nearly two-thirds of our forces," she unnecessarily reminded both The Dark Knight of Gotham and everyone else who was able to hear her. "On behalf of the United States government, I am ordering you to release that flash grenade! You know that we cannot risk any further casualties!"

Nightwing gnashed his teeth in frustration, thinking that the uncompromising candor coming from the White King of Checkmate sounded a great deal more frustrating than simple nails on a chalkboard. However, as irritating as it was to him, the tone did not stop his father from dipping his gauntlet-covered right hand into a pocket within his utility belt, the black-gloved hand emerging with a sphere that looked to be no bigger or more dangerous than a baseball. Dick was well aware of what it meant, however, and he immediately broke into a mad dash as he tried to do whatever he could. Stretching his leg muscles as much as he could, he performed a high leap that allowed him to clamber onto the shoulders of a nearby Yellow Lantern. The added height allowed him to leap onto another pair of golden-tinged shoulders, a quick kick to the alien's head disorienting his newest support just long enough for him to comfortably twist his body through a double front somersault that left him standing at The Batman's right hand.

"You don't have to do this!" he bellowed, ignoring all efforts to grate his voice or make himself sound like anything other than Bruce Wayne's son. "This is insane! You're giving them exactly what they want!"

"It's the only way to stop more innocent people from getting killed!" Batman barked back as Slade saved both their lives with a timely spurt of fire from his modified XM214 minigun. "I'm going to need you to be strong, Richard! You're going to have to be the leader now!"

An unwilling tear burst itself free from Nightwing's heart as he watched Deathstroke and his daughter fight side-by-side, a near-perfect tandem. He stared at the joy in Rose's smile, suddenly reminded of all he had done to keep what little remained of that family together while wondering why he couldn't do the same for his own.

"THEY'LL DESTROY YOU!!"

Nigel Thornton's tremendous leap into the center of the skirmish, the tired but still feisty Cassandra Cain perched upon his shoulders. The two of them were quick to raise a small bit of mayhem with the aid of their combined gifts, the distraction buying the father and son another few precious seconds. The enormous noise also happened to drown out the desperation that spilled from every hint of Richard Grayson to everyone but Bruce and the woman standing to his left. However, while Talia looked as if a small portion of her heart had just been broken, The Dark Knight remained calm and sure as he grasped his child by his heaving shoulders.

"As long as you're alive, they can't."

Nightwing kept his eyes on focused on the symbol on his father's chest as Batman briefly turned his head to the left. The younger vigilante couldn't hear the words that came from Bruce's mouth but he could feel a strong pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders shortly thereafter. He did his best to break free from the hold on him as Batman primed their secret weapon to readiness but the power of his captor was too much for him and he soon found himself being carried away from the building and the battlefield. The familiar sound of a jump line being released from a grappling gun rang through his ears shortly thereafter, the synthesized titanium head finding purchase in the stone walls of a neighboring cathedral.

The loud explosion that sounded off behind him was something Nightwing didn't want to see but couldn't stop himself from doing so. He witnessed the white-hot, eldritch electromagnetic pulse that rocked the top ten floors of the massive office building, his throat trying hard to summon a scream when he found that he couldn't even make a sound.

"Sit tight, Nightwing," Deathstroke whispered as the both of them swung down to the streets below along with the hundred or so soldiers that were able to get away. "We're gonna get 'em back, Grayson. We're not gonna do it now but we're gonna get 'em all back."

* * *

_Metropolis_

Vincent's body was in flawless condition, his pale skin unmarred by any cut, scrape, or bruise that Superman thought he had brought down upon him. Lifting the veil over the eyes of his quarry, The Silver Coyote was more than satisfied to keep on smiling as he cast a meaningful glare at their many onlookers. He savored the confusion and horror of the hundreds of citizens of Metropolis who had witnessed their hero, their _savior_, fall with such ridiculous ease. Removing his blood-soaked katana from the lower end of Superman's multifidus spinae, he brought the long blade up onto his left shoulder, shifting his body until he had positioned himself into a traditional _kenjutsu _stance. He then brought his blade down twice more in rapid succession, the mystic metal easily slicing through Superman's left and right clavicle with a pair of lashes that would have carved the Man of Steel in two had his sternum not remained untouched and thus available to support the rest of his injured body.

The horrified screams that rose from men, women, and children alike encouraged him even further as blood began to spurt and spill from Superman's enormous wounds. Coasting his way through the fear and outrage for just a moment more, he then stooped down once again as he brought his lips to where they were just a mere inch away from Kal-El's left ear.

"Telepathy is a wonderful gift, isn't it?" he asked with a menacing whisper. "As long as you have an angry, conflicted mind to play with, you can have anyone thinking whatever they want to feel."

The assassin let out an ungainly snort as Superman's eyes began to roll upwards, an unmistakable sign that the Kryptonian was about to slip into unconsciousness. He responded by calmly sinking his blade between Superman's shoulder blades so that the phenomenally sharp tip was just an inch or two above the alien's heart.

"Now, now. Don't pass out on me yet," he hissed. "At least not before I tell you why all of this is happening to you. As you've probably guessed, this was hardly an act of random violence. There's a 15-year history behind all of this."

Vincent guessed that Kent would have had something to say to that but the blood flooding the alien's mouth and spilling onto the street curb just in front of _The Daily Planet _had left the Kryptonian unable to speak. Undeterred by the current circumstances, he continued to tell his tale.

"There's a reason that I was able to manipulate your mind so easily, Clark Kent, and it wasn't just because I just left nine quarts of your most loyal supporter's blood spilling into your wife's workspace."

The former student of Mao Tenryu felt his teeth grinding together as he fetched a handful of Superman's scalp before lifting it upwards, the black hair wrapped within his fingers stained with dirt, blood, and grime.

"Ever since you were a teenager you've paraded yourself around acting as if you were a god among men. Did you honestly not think that other people with power wouldn't be doing whatever they could to find a way to bring you down into the muck with them? That was the real secret behind Project Cadmus, the real reason why my brother and I were forced to suffer and live through a nightmare that you couldn't even hope to imagine. _We were made to destroy you_!"

Vincent took a great deal of pleasure in figuratively and literally twisting the blade in Superman's back, not even wincing or turning away as a spurt of Kryptonian blood crashed into the left side of his cheek.

"I never wished to follow the whims of the people who chose to make me into a monster. However, I know enough to realize how much you've cost the world, how your grandstanding and insufferable derring-do has caused so many of my people to become soft, weak, and defenseless. That is a crime I will no longer allow to take place and I will make it my responsibility to save the world I love from your continued mistakes."

Rising to his full height, he summoned a field of eldritch electricity that flung from his fingertips before coursing through every part of Superman's body. More screams and pleas for mercy rose from the surrounding crowds as their hero fell face first to the ground now mercifully unconscious.

"Consider this your payment to the world, Clark Kent," Vincent proclaimed as he began his search for the nearest news camera. "Your compensation for your 35 years of sins."

* * *

A trio of Yellow Lanterns, one of a dozen teams put to the task of locating and subduing their prime target, continued to tap into the scanning instruments within their rings in order to make their search just a bit easier. Despite the temporary interference caused by Batman's electromagnetic grenade, the power behind their eldritch instruments was more than enough to easily bypass any of the security protocols that Waynetech had to offer. The general architecture had changed drastically as the team had descended further into the underground floors of the facility, the metropolitan aesthetic shifting quickly into something that seemed to have been ripped straight from The Matrix. Long expansive rooms, corridors brightened by harsh track lighting, sterile white floors, and the latest in information and weapons technology that Earth had to offer were all available for perusal in what was widely believed by the Sinestro Corps to be Batman's main armory.

"Just what _was _that thing that the winged freak threw at us?" asked one of the soldiers, his orange skin looking unusually bright within the new surroundings.

"Some kind of device designed to temporarily disable our weapons," the group's leader replied, both his response and his subordinate's question made equally clear thanks to the universal translators provided by the rings on their fingers. "However, the effects seem to have been eliminated and now we're prepared in case he does it again."

"Are we sure about that?" asked the third member of the team, a mammoth of a female alien with sky-blue skin, three claws substituting for fingers, and a face that looked as if it had been slammed through a wall one too many times. "We are still not able to lock down the Earthling's location and we've never had this kind of problem before."

"Just remember the commander's words," the leader softly reminded his comrades. "This one is highly resourceful. Do not underestimate him just because he is so easily breakable."

"Bah," the orange-skinned underling grunted, the gesture causing two of his three noses to flutter in the breeze his top nostrils had created. "I still say we are being too cautious. It is not as if these pathetic creatures have given us any form of trouble. . ."

Whatever else the confident Yellow Lantern had to offer was quickly cut short as a dozen compartments opened up, over, under, and around he and his fellow intruders. The hydraulic hinges and lifts embedded within the room allowed Thangaarian plasma rifles to emerge from each of the slots, the potent weapons soon spitting out enough superheated energy to make another Grand Canyon in the center of Gotham had each of the lasers been specifically designed to cut one another off at the pass. However, their pathways were also cut off by the unfortunate Sinestro Corps members who remained within the trap. Two of them were incinerated nearly immediately by the assault, the only survivor being the arrogant Tangorian who found himself forced to deploy a vast percentage of his ring's energy to not only protect himself but also to annihilate the weaponry that had so hastily killed his comrades.

"What was that?" the orange-skinned creature asked to himself in fatigued disbelief. Unfortunately for him, the ringing in the creature's ears was more than enough to distract the grunt from the voluminous roar of the enormous vehicle rushing up behind him. He did, however, have just enough time to turn around and take a brief glimpse of the enormous, tank-like vehicle rushing towards him at nearly 90 miles an hour.

The remote-controlled Tumbler had no problem at all with crushing the impediment in its path, the front shields of the massive Batmobile now sullied with brownish-black blood.

* * *

"I must admit that I don't feel quite comfortable with the thought of addressing an audience this size," Vincent confessed to his nearly 3 billion addressees, the enormous audience made possible through the hundreds of global communication networks that presented the horrific news for nearly everyone in the world who wished to see it. "After all, I have long realized that people such as me, those who have been given the power to defend all of you from the horrors that this world has to offer, are meant to be neither seen nor heard."

* * *

Bruce Wayne emerged from his hiding place, his tired body encased within an upgraded model of the battle armor he had employed during his battle with Arthur Light over the ruins of Star City. Over a dozen Sinestro Corps members were waiting for him, their combined salvo significantly damaging the structural integrity of his armor and sending his sensors into a spew of reports informing him that neither he nor the armor could take much more of what his foes were offering. He was quick to respond in kind, gritting his teeth as he rerouted power from the armor's propulsion systems to better heal the damages while programming the room's arsenal to let loose with the best small-arms weaponry Earth had to provide. While the latter maneuver did little in producing any physical or psychological harm against the assemblage attacking him, the solar flare that emerged from the cannon arm in his left gauntlet was enough to blind all but one as he moved forward in order to take them on hand-to-hand.

* * *

Vincent swept his eyes over his audience, reading and absorbing as many reactions as he could before he felt ready to speak. He had long forgotten any notions of focusing upon the growing array of television cameras and picture phones, quite certain that he needed to do nothing more to convince himself that he had their undivided attention.

"I have remained in the shadows since I was five years old, content to remain there and do what needed to be done to help all of you survive and thrive. I served the will and whim of the late Mao Tenryu, a foolish genius who believed he could improve the world by acquiring as many puppets as he could. As much as I have come to regret the time wasted while aiding that charlatan of a savior, those many years have given me the courage to no longer accept what we have been taught. That the world must be run by those who continue to ruin it. The back-biters, the toadies, the power-players, and the shining superheroes on the faces of all your newspapers. It is time to decide who has truly earned the right to hold sway."

* * *

Bruce Wayne could feel his vision dimming as the troublesome streak of gold crashed into him and sent him smashing through the tempered, plastic walls that lined his weapon store. Seeing no other soldiers coming after him, he was quick to focus his mind on his newest attacker, placing his armored body into a Shotokan stance designed to counter the superior speed and strength of his persistent opponent. However, the combination of his fatigue and the skill of his opponent were far too much for even him to overcome, the results becoming clear as his opponent effortlessly slid under a left hook in order to emerge at his back. The detective let out a weak groan as the high-frequency vibration blade in the Yellow Lantern's left hand cut through the titanium alloy in his armor and dug into his injured shoulder.

* * *

"Allow me to assure you that the actions that I and my supporters have committed today should not be considered an attack on everything that our global society has come to stand for. What has taken place today is merely a ways and means of evening the playing field, preparations for the test that the planet we all love will soon endure. Those who have been punished this day are those who have failed in their endeavors, either because of their lust for personal power or through their own sheer incompetence. No innocent soul has been harmed this day."

* * *

The surviving members of the Sinestro Corps' Gotham attack unit, a force now only 44 in number, all stood around their fallen target. As was so often the case in situations such as these, the fear within many of the survivors, the emotion that was once the hearth of their incredible abilities, slowly began to morph into hatred. The general wave of disgust was soon directed at a sole target, the unconscious Earthling who stood at their feet. The loathing for how many of them had to fall in order for this event to take place and the horror over the fact that it just as easily could have been them who had joined the rising ranks of the dead began to loom over the surroundings. Some of the bolder Yellow Lanterns looked ready to turn their revulsion into action, several of them even striding forward to inflict further physical harm on the Dark Knight of Gotham City.

"You will not touch him," a cold voice warned the handful of dissidents. "This Earthling has long earned my respect and, after witnessing the events here today, he is clearly far more valuable to our designs than any of you could ever hope to be. You will all make your way to your assigned rendezvous points and await further instructions."

A brief smattering of frustration could be seen as well as heard throughout the proceedings as the threat sunk into the frayed minds of its audience. In spite of this, these small oppositions were quickly ground to a halt as the soldiers briefly stood in deference to their leader before moving towards their selected meeting points. The leader of the force took a moment to watch the remainder of his subordinates be off, quietly marveling over how few in number they were, before unceremoniously dropping the blood-soaked instrument of Batman's downfall near the detective's right ear. The clatter of metal against plastic roused what was left of Bruce's waning senses, a ragging cough forcing its way through his lungs as his vision began to blur once again.

"Pray that your champion fares a great deal better than you have," Sinestro recommended before Bruce felt himself falling unconscious once again.

* * *

"This alien, this unwanted arrival from an annihilated world," Vincent continued as he gestured to his fallen adversary. "He has become our greatest champion. He has become humanity's representation of our bondless capacity to become something more than what we once were and he is more recognized than any mythological deity or divine being that any of our historical documents have to offer. Because of this, he has become a god himself and I have chosen to treat him in kind."

Vincent slid away from any possible point of obstruction he could provide for the cameras and what had long been their focal point since even before he had begun to speak. Billions of eyes once again bore witness to The Man of Steel, his once pristine stature lacerated and bloodied by the wounds inflicted on him before and currently by the three blades that still remained within his flesh. The first two, daggers formed and sharpened by Rann's most renowned weapons experts, had been carefully dug through the Kryptonian's wrists before the impossibly sharp blade found purchase within the enormous, globe-shaped structure that once stood at the pinnacle of _The Daily Planet_. The third blade, Vincent's own katana, busied itself by restraining Kal-El's entwined ankles, the magical properties of the weapon and its smaller compatriots more than enough to keep Earth's greatest hero rooted to his ordained spot. It was only thanks to Superman's remarkable constitution that he remained alive, his lone signs of life coming from the shallow expansion and retention of his chest and the rictus of pain that seemed to continually shift on his face.

"Do not weep for those who have been dragged down to Earth this day," The Silver Coyote advised his captive audience. "Save your tears for those who have always been willing to walk among you."

* * *

_The Batcave_

Try as she might, Cecilia King-Jones couldn't stop the tears from blinding her eyes and tumbling down her cheeks. She couldn't even figure out precisely why she was crying anymore. Whether it was out of sorrow or fear or frustration or a warped combination of the three, the young woman had become nothing more than a crumbling ball of emotions as she, like so many others around the world, worked to decipher just what had happened in the last several hours.

"This is wrong," she said with a dead whisper. "This is all so wrong."

None of the tired figures around the fair-haired archer made any attempt to comfort her. None of them could, each of them far too busy with the task of cycling through their own fears and frustrations and the simmering unknowns that always seemed to hover on the peripheries of the human mind. Floyd Lawton let out a snarl and a spit of dried tobacco as he turned his pale face away from the screen. Rose Wilson stood dumbfounded, her mind seemingly unable to process all that she had just witnessed. Cassandra Cain, meanwhile, tried her best to look determined but the distinct note of hesitancy in her deep, black eyes clearly said that she had no idea on how she was going to make the image stick.

"Everything always seems to be wide of the mark in times like these," Talia finally offered, her soft voice drifting unusually well through the expansive catacombs. "This chaos and change is merely a part of human history. We must accept our losses and work to limit those we may incur in the future."

Noticing that the crowd was hardly buoyed by the words of Batman's former lover, another figure surprised himself by rushing in to fill the void the only way he knew how.

"There. . . there is still a sizeable battle taking place in Themyscira," Noah warbled as he pointed a quivering finger at one of his monitors. "Perhaps there is. . . maybe we could. . . provide some form of assistance." The silence that followed his recommendation irked The Calculator even further. Biting back the urge to clean his spectacles, he tried to keep doing what he could. "We. . . we should do something."

"AND WHAT THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?!" Arrowette screeched, the volume of her question causing many of those within the cavern to startle. "We lost _everybody_! The Titans have been captured, the JSA is scattered, the JLA is God knows where, Superman's been fuckin' crucified and we lost. . . _We lost_ _Bruce_."

Cecilia's hitched breathing left her momentarily without any fuel to flame her rising panic. Scandal was quick to move forward, intent on either comforting or stopping the young woman but the archer threw aside anything the Secret Six's leader could provide.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?!"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do."

All eyes turned to the figure moving towards them with meaningful, decisive strides, his movements only slightly hindered by the bandage wrapped around his left bicep. The domino mask that normally framed Nightwing's face in times like these was long removed, the maneuver revealing a pair of blue eyes that brimmed with determination, a massive force built up not only by the those that have taught him to be what he was about to become but also by his own sheer force of will.

"All of us have made the choice to dig ourselves underground," he began, "to take care of the little things that slip through the cracks before they grow up and become the big things that we see on the covers of our newspapers every damn day. Now we were able to do that because we had a safety net. We had all those good, pretty people that could save the day in front of everybody else's eyes and had the ego and the patience to stay for the photo ops."

* * *

_The Big Whale – Training Facility_

The Flash took the short window of time available to pop his shoulder back in place before turning his eyes back to the scuffle taking place in front of him. His green eyes managed to catch every fist and foot that Kara and Stephanie had to throw at one another, the brief bit of combat as fast and fierce as what he had been through several seconds before. He took another brief moment to look at Lloyd's eyes and began to wonder which certainty shocked him more: the fact that the young Brit was eager to have his next turn or the reality that he was ready to have another go as well.

* * *

"But now they've failed," Nightwing went on, his voice taking on a darker, firmer candor. "They've botched things up and now it's up to us to step up and show the heroes and the monsters why we're the ones they should really be afraid of."

* * *

Having successfully defended her mountain once again by chucking Stephanie into the surrounding walls, Kara had just a fraction of a second to turn and respond to Wally's opening incident. The scarlet blur came at her without the slightest bit of hesitance, hammering away at her with everything that The Fastest Man Alive could bring the table. The two exchanged hundreds of ducked, dodged, or parried punches before Wally finally gained the advantage with a spinning side kick that crashed into the left side of Kara's head, the fatigue generated from successfully warding off both Lloyd and Stephanie in short succession leaving her momentarily open for the attack. Chuckling as she took heed of the newest dent she had contributed to the rapidly repairing walls, Kara had enough time to give Lloyd a playful wink before The Black Dog moved to take his turn.

* * *

"We're going to get smarter, get stronger, and do what we've always had to do to be one step ahead of the people we're going after," Batman's first student declared as Cassandra Cain gave him a knowing smile. "And I'm going to make sure that we take in all the shit that's been thrown at us, give it a nice, close look to see just how it got made, before we find the best way to take all of that and throw it right back at that silver-haired bastard's face. Because, believe me, there is _nobody_ better at diving into this muck than we are! We've proven that a thousand times before and we are all going to do whatever is possible to make sure that we'll be able to do it a thousand times more after all this is said and done!"

* * *

_Oa Transport Convoy – 22.5 light years from Qward's ionosphere_

Kyle Rayner angrily tossed his ragged sketch pad aside, the young artist finally giving up his latest attempt to keep his mind occupied. He felt as if he could still feel the odor of Parallax trying to sneak into him, that overpowering presence seeming to flood his conscious thoughts despite the fact that he was once again his own man. The doubt and disappointment continued to needle at him as the space outside seemed to glow and shift before his eyes.

_I can't do this._

"_Yes, you can_."

Ion's eyes snapped open as his subconscious thoughts dug through and dragged a memory into the forefront. Bringing his imagination to life, he used his mastery of creating light constructs to shape an image that caused his heart to let out an anxious flutter. He feasted his eyes on the jade curls on the top of Jennifer-Lynn Hayden's head, remembering how it use to seem to slide down off the pillow when she slept beside him during those times when there was no crisis, no war, no trouble at all.

"_I gave you everything I had because I knew you had the strength to do what most of us didn't even think possible. But I can't show everyone what a wonder you truly are. That's up to you now. Remember all the wonderful things that I loved about you, what __**your mother**__ and so many others saw in you, and all of these troubles will be nothing." _

* * *

"There is a war coming, ladies and gentlemen," Nightwing needlessly informed all those present, "and it's gonna be bitter and it's gonna be bloody. Everything we know is going to get tossed up into the air and there's no guarantee that anything is going to be in the same shape when all is said and done. As a matter of fact, there's pretty much only one thing that any of us here can really be certain of."

Lloyd Thomas felt his fears momentarily subside, the surge of his demon as well as his soul spurning him forward to take on whatever lay ahead.

Kara Zor-el let the heat burn from her eyes, determined to show everyone that she was still ready to learn and grow.

Stephanie Brown let out a smile as the two great forces in front of her clashed, the young Green Lantern eager for the opportunity to get back in the thick of it if only to show what she could do.

Wally West, despite his pain and hesitation, prepared for his turn as well. No matter what, he was determined to do what needed to be done to protect all those he held near and dear.

Kyle Rayner shifted his memories back into his mind where they belonged, his cosmic energy roaring around him as he prepared to launch himself into the unpredictable once again.

Dick Grayson smiled.

"We are going to win."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

WHEW!!

And so ends _Power Play_, an arc that ended up being over 100,000 words long, took nearly six months to complete and probably changed course a good two dozen times since I first thought of the idea about two years ago. Yep, I had the gang taking on Sinestro well before Geoff Johns' _Sinestro Corps _had been published. Of course, that doesn't really take away from the fact that I still ripped him off on a number of the small things but, hey, I think it worked out well for the both of us, right? Of course, DC made a couple million dollars with his story and all I've got is about a thousand dollars in my checking account so maybe I've got more of a right to complain than they do.

All kidding aside, I hope everybody's enjoyed the pay-off as well as the continued build-up so far and, as always, I hope to hear from you guys about what you think. I wish I could offer some witty and verbose insight about the world of current comics but this arc has gone along long enough as it is. Just send me some questions and I'll do my best to answer and that way we'll cut out the middleman. What do you say?

Oh, and how about a next issue preview?

* * *

Issue #72 Preview

Well, a month has passed since Sinestro and Vincent have unveiled their master plan and the vast majority of Earth's heroes have gotten their asses kicked and/or killed. How will the combined force of the space-faring Misfits and Hal's segment of the Green Lantern Corps respond to all the goings on? Just what is the test that Vincent plans to administer to the world and its most powerful guardians? What challenges await Kilowog and Kyle Rayner as they rush to remove the opposing army's principal source of power? And how the hell is this pathetic author going to sow together all the lingering plot threads built up over the last four dozen chapters in just one little arc? Watch the comedy, tragedy, romance, hatred, and lots and lots of fighting begin to bubble and boil in two weeks time with _Culp's War_, the twelfth arc of the series and its opening installment: Home Sweet Hell. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	72. Home Sweet Hell

Issue #72

Home Sweet Hell

_The Big Whale – .542 light years from Earth's ionosphere_

Hal Jordan found that he had to put forth a good portion of his patience in order to keep his walk slow and steady as he journeyed down one of the long corridors that littered the starboard side of the enormous transport craft that had been his home for the last four weeks.

He had never been a fan of the times where he could not be in control of his surroundings. It was a long-standing tradition that had stretched as far back as his fifth birthday, the day when he finally had the chance to sit down in the passenger side of his father's stunt plane. Amazing how he couldn't remember the name of the pump 'n munch across from his old high school or the name of the girl he took to his junior prom but he could still recall every moment of that flight through the sky. He remembered trying to keep his mouth closed as he goggled at the barrel rolls, somersaults, dives, and lifts that his old man had pushed that modified Cessna through, amazed at what appeared to be the godlike abilities of the smiling fellow sitting to his left.

He knew that it was his desire for independence, that 'thirst for spatial hegemony' as Bruce Wayne himself had once put it, that not only convinced him to become a pilot but also to become an even better Green Lantern than even he ever thought possible. By defying everything around him he knew he could shape the world for the better, a desire that now guided him through his journey to redeem himself for the horrific mistakes he had made over the course of his past pursuits. He knew it to be his greatest strength and weakness, the part of him that would doubtlessly cause trouble time and time again, but as much harm and torment that it had caused him, he wouldn't trade that part of him for anything the galaxies could offer.

Of course, all the personal revelations in the world didn't hide the fact that he had just screwed up. _In fact, a more rational person, _Hal thought_, would have probably seen the problem behind traipsing up to the ship's bridge and brusquely asking the pilot if he could have a shot at the controls_.

After all, if he could pilot a Stealth Bomber while blindfolded and three sheets to the wind on Oliver Queen's trademark Jack Daniels Chili then he could certainly steer an Alpha-class transport system through light speed, right?

Ironically enough, it only took a single, cold glance from one Victor Fries for the former USAF pilot to see the error of his ways.

"I do not pretend to be more proficient at just whatever it is you do, Mister Jordan. Please have the decency to extend the same courtesy to me."

And if the look alone wasn't enough to convince him, the words that had slipped from the pale, blue lips of the former cryogeneticist was enough to hammer the point home.

That previous course of events, conveniently enough, had led him to his current destination: a hastily constructed target range that, over the course of the last four weeks, had become disfigured and scarred with the force of explosions big and small. The architect of the vast majority of the destruction was currently standing at the middle of it all, his lithe, muscular frame strapped with enough weapons to make any vigilante or despotic terrorist green with envy. A wide variety of spectral and solid targets, both active and dormant, stood waiting to be destroyed by Arsenal and the guns he held in each of his calloused hands.

Hal crossed his arms over his chest as he watched his old friend and patrol partner push his way through the training exercise. He whistled at the speed that Arsenal had put into abandoning his empty quiver, the red-headed sharpshooter effortlessly shrugging the heavy, cloth container aside while somehow finding the time to aim the energy pistol in his right hand. The bolt of laser fire that rang out from the barrel of the Rann-model firearm quickly incinerated a wall-mounted cannon that had been threatening to kneecap the former Checkmate agent and the two shots that followed were just as efficient in eliminating the dormant targets that bordered the now destroyed mortar. As the session began to grind towards its inevitable conclusion, Hal couldn't help but find himself drifting back, his thoughts casting back to all the times that Ollie had nagged him about Roy's growing preference for guns over the bow and arrow. The tone of disappointment in his friend's words, the same candor that caused Roy to nervously shift his eyes away whenever he could hear Ollie bring it to bear, rang just as loudly as any of Arsenal's gunshots.

"_Hell, any random moron can just point and shoot. It takes a real man to take the time to pull that string. To look that sucker across from you in the eye and still keep that strength in ya to stay still. That's what I taught that kid to do, not play with his little popguns." _

"But he's not your boy anymore, is he, Ollie?" Hal said to no one in particular while Roy finished his paces with more skill, speed, and proficiency than the original Green Arrow could ever hope to accomplish with his archaic weaponry. The Green Lantern couldn't help but chuckle as Roy turned towards him, the younger man playfully waving at him with the revolver in his left hand. Although he could clearly see Ollie's roguish spirit within that smile, that playful glint that had charmed not only he and Roy but countless others along the way, Hal would have been a fool not to see the flash of danger and warrior's calm that resided there as well.

_He's Dinah's boy now, through and through._

"Shouldn't you be hanging out at the big boy's table?" Roy asked sharply as Hal slid into the room. "Damn it, old man! You're breakin' up my mojo!"

The infamous Green Lantern shook his head back and forth quickly, his good mood allowing him to let the playful jab slide. "Forget it, junior. There's no way I'm going back in there. I mean, I know I'm not the brightest bulb in the box but that doesn't mean I'm dumb enough to get myself killed even before I get to the ring."

The edge in Roy's grin grew just a titch more prickly. "So what did the trick? The black eye Wally was nice enough to take the time to give you last week or the broken ribs that Steph set you up with two days back?"

"Gotta admit that it's a little bit of both," Hal confessed as the two of them made their way towards their next mutual destination. "Y'know, I almost feel sorry for Kilowog. The big guy would have loved the chance to get his skull cracked in there."

"Hey. At least you managed to stay in there for more than a few seconds," Roy bit back as he twirled the revolver in his left hand out of habit. "I swear, I thought I wouldn't be able to eat solid foods for forever after Lloyd nailed me with that left hook of his. . ."

"Ah! You mean that big, sweeping one that makes you think he's been watching too much of the first Ali-Frazier fight?" Hal asked.

"That's the one," Roy replied as he slid his revolver back into its assigned holster.

"Wellllllll, maybe you should have held on to that Qwardian power ring you took off that Fortunian back on Karbarra," Hal countered.

Roy nearly crossed his eyes in frustration. "Do I look like _Vampire Hunter D_ to you? I don't need a dismembered limb stuffed in my pants pocket that could very well just blow my nuts off if I don't handle it the right way!"

"Then don't start complaining that you keep tumbling over whenever a particularly strong gust of wind comes along." Hal fired back in retort with a very familiar smile. "Oh, and please start thinking about what you're going to say before you say it because what you said was just, plain disgusting."

"GRAAAAGH! Fuck you, old man!" Roy exclaimed with just enough joviality that Hal thought it was all right to laugh. However, the two of them soon grew quiet as they arrived at their target. "Shit! King of the Mountain again? You think they would get tired of playing that at this point."

Hal raised an eyebrow in response to the choice in jargon. "I thought they were going to change the name of it because Kara thought it was sexist."

"Steph kept whining about it until Kara just decided to relent," Roy replied calmly before turning with Hal to watch the action inside. As they expected, the activity within the 20 foot-by-20 foot confines was as brutal and efficient as it always was, the four combatants once again pushing themselves through the same, laborious exercises that they had willingly endured dozens of time before over the course of their voyage.

Lloyd was currently at the top of the figurative mountain, his undersized hands and slender forearms moving quickly to parry or strike back in response to the fast and precise strikes of The Fastest Man Alive. Had much of his body not been a blur to Roy's all-too-human eyes, Arsenal would have had little trouble seeing the tiny smile on the face of The Black Dog as the young Brit watched his newest student continue to dip into his growing supply of Nanquan positions and strikes. It had taken a bit of debate for Lloyd to sell the benefits of the boxing-based offshoot of Wushu to his customer but The Flash had clearly been smart to accept the offer. Meticulous and powerful strikes and movements were gradually taking the place of the rushed, partially focused frenzies that the redheaded speed merchant was so prone to work with in the past. Of course, the time Lloyd had put into teaching Wally also allowed the young instructor the opportunity to develop his ability to read the older man's movements, thus equipping him with the insight to feint his way around a left straight punch in order to deliver a harsh back elbow to the back of Wally's neck that sent the former Justice Leaguer rolling away from the center of the battlefield and crashing into one of the nearby walls.

Finding his hands momentarily unencumbered, Lloyd found he had more than enough time to twist his limbs in order to best ward off a spray of emerald energy rays that came his way a half of a second after The Flash's ungainly crash. Wincing as Stephanie drew blood across his torso with a brilliantly precise swipe of her energy claws, The Black Dog grit his teeth as he sought a way to work his way around the advantage in reach that the young Green Lantern had wisely given herself. Realizing that going for his saber would do him little good in a clash with the owner of the small, eldritch blades, he chose instead to bring the battle in close, his teleportation abilities enabling him to quickly wade in closer. Though Robin had managed to hold him at bay for far longer than he had anticipated, a sideswipe from Stephanie's left claw ended up being a second too slow and the combination of a swift duck, a left hook to the gut, and a back somersault kick enabled Lloyd to properly defend his throne once again.

The next advance came with naught but a whisper of motion. It was certainly a far cry from the noisy gusts of motion that had long been a trademark for both Kara and her cousin and the ease of motion allowed the half-Kryptonian to grab a hold of that invaluable moment in time that often spelled the difference between victory and defeat in battles such as these. Rushing to catch up with Kara's harsh pace, Lloyd also couldn't help but notice that there was no more hesitance in Kara's movements. Her punches, kicks, and parries were as sharp and sure as he had ever seen from her and the struggle to match his student step-for-step suddenly seemed like quite the appealing chase. The battle had quickly become nothing short of a dance, the two willing partners moving with such fluidity that they made it all look so ridiculously simple.

"GOD DAMNIT! SOMEBODY LAND A PUNCH!!" Stephanie bellowed as the two warriors remained in their stalemate. "I wanna start fighting again!"

"I think we've all had enough for today," Hal replied as he bravely broke into the proceedings with Roy just a few decided steps behind. "Besides, we're going to be making landfall in less than an hour so you guys might want to freshen up."

"Sounds good to me," Wally said brightly while taking a moment to stretch his aching muscles. "Hey, Hal! How come you didn't come and join us today? Steph was really looking forward to seeing if she could pants you."

Hal cast a rather rueful glare at his fellow Green Lantern, the wide smile and fervent nodding put forth by the blonde-haired Gothamite a clear sign that he was wise to decline the invitation.

"I like to space out my embarrassing incidents, thank you very much."

"Oh, since when were you embarrassed about an 18-year-old girl ripping off your pants?" Roy scoffed before turning his attention to his teammates. "Nice moves out there, guys and gals. I'd like to see the Justice League of Assholes hold a candle to you guys now."

"Well, thank you very much," Kara replied as she moved to undo the tight ponytail her long, blonde hair had been wrapped within throughout the training exercise, "but it's not The Justice League that we should be worried about. Let's just hope that we're ready for whatever Sinestro and Vincent have in store for us."

"Well, I still say that we're dwelling far too much on the doom and gloom scenario," Arsenal countered as Stephanie took a moment to use her ring to create a giant fan that soon sent a stream of wind straight at her and her sweat-soaked comrades. "I mean, those guys have faced these kinds of things like, what, a bajilllion times before? What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

_Gotham City – Corner of Chestnut Avenue and Mountain Drive_

Kay Reynolds would have been more than happy to hit something other than the 235-year-old oak tree that had managed to butt its way into her path of travel. Nevertheless, she took a small amount of comfort in the sensation of her left shoulder crashing into the thick wood, her phenomenal upper-body strength forcing the pristine bit of forestry to bend sharply before beginning to tumble over. The brisk snapping of the tree's mighty roots as it loudly crashed to the ground provided the former Fury with just a little more peace of mind, the scarlet-haired warrior woman letting out a vicious wail of frustration as duty once again took the place of personal pleasure.

"Know that your inevitable extinction at my hands is merely being put on hold, you putrid automatons," she shouted back to the dozen or so Manhunters who had been chasing her through the forests for the last several miles. "Be grateful that the circumstances at hand cheat me of the glories that would come from ripping your spines off of your malformed necks!"

She was now only a quarter of a mile away from her sanctuary, an obstacle that she could have easily overcome with a single bound if her leap would not make her an easy target of the plasma bolts that had been nicking and scarring her body for the past five minutes. However, despite the inconvenience, the combination of a speed burst that poured forth from her long, muscular legs and her utter rage enabled her to enter the outer grounds of Wayne Manor in just over a half of a minute, the distinct _hum _of an energy force field sliding into place that caused the dangerous androids to swerve to a stop. Knowing that her hunters were now unable to follow, Knockout flashed a toothy smile at her former playmates, the relief of a job well done doing little to blunt the frustration she felt at the lack of violence involved with said task.

The fair-haired warrior who walked over to meet the women known to some as Knockout seemed to sense the larger woman's frustration, a somewhat kindly smile on the archer's face as she moved closer to the new arrival.

"Great job in getting the medical supplies over to Doctor Thompkins," Arrowette began. "And sorry about Noah not letting you get any more stuff to hang on your wall. Still, it was pretty safe to say that even more reinforcements were going to arrive if you stood still for too long."

"Bah!" Knockout all but spat as her long strides soon forced Cecilia to break into a light jog just to keep up. "These stalling tactics, however altruistic they may be, do nothing but nick at my spirit. Tell me, Earthling! What have I done to be denied the opportunity for a grand battle? Why have the fates deemed me to remain here while war is afoot in Themyscira?"

"Yeah, I'm frustrated about that too," Cecilia replied just before firmly pushing her tongue against the right side of her cheek. "Getting to stay here, all warm and well-fed while waiting to make the right move is just torture. I mean, what I wouldn't give to be out there, little food or water, battling for a month straight just to avoid being burned alive by aliens about a million times stronger than I am. . ."

"Ah! So you share my dilemma," Kay exclaimed, the warrior happy to have found someone on the same page. "The Batman has truly been wise to choose warriors with such noble spirits!"

The complete lack of sarcasm in the tone of the Apokoliptian prompted Cecilia to shake her head back and forth as she opened the mahogany double doors that separated the grounds from the mansion itself. As she took a moment or two to wave hello to some of the inhabitants and refugees she was able to recognize throughout the course of her trip, Arrowette found herself a few steps behind once again before rushing off to catch Knockout on the way to the stately grandfather clock that served as the next prospective obstacle in their path. Not surprisingly, the distinguished, time-keeping antique had already been slid aside by someone else, thus allowing the both of them to descend further into the depths of the manor without any further incident.

"Despite my frustrations," Knockout went on as Cecilia felt the heels of her boots colliding softly with the stone steps, "I must say that our current environment inspires a great many memories within me. All these people, united under a single bond, cohabitating in order to find comfort and safety."

"Yeah?" Arrowette prodded, the young woman now legitimately intrigued.

"I am reminded of the rebel camps established by Lady Barda and her husband back upon my home world."

Cecilia found herself suddenly raising her eyebrows. "Yeah. . . But weren't you responsible for _destroying_ those places and killing everyone inside?"

Kay responded to the question regarding her carnage-filled past with a simple grin. "Or capturing the important ones. Let us hope that our fate will not match theirs."

"That does it," Cecilia said with a sigh and a quirk of her lips. "I officially need to find someone else to talk to. Still, now that I'm really looking at _this_ place," she added while sweeping her right arm to indicate the expansive cavern, "this place does sort of reminds me of the cave in Happy Harbor. That's where Young Justice used to hang out," she explained as the former thorn in Superboy's side and current Secret Six member nodded in recollection. "All we need is Bart to come racing out and insist that we need a night light down here."

"I would have thought that the glow of those overlarge monitors would have been enough to suffice," Knockout replied as they arrived at the bottom of the stairwell.

"You would have thought so," Cecilia had the time to say before another set of footsteps caused her to hush up. She looked up to see the familiar pressed slacks, white, business shirt, and the ever-present suspenders of Noah Kuttler, the middle-aged Misfit pausing in order to gently place his glasses back upon the bridge of his nose.

"You have proven your merit once again, information provider!" Knockout exclaimed as she stifled whatever The Calculator had to say both with her words and with a hearty embrace that carried the poor man several feet above the ground. "Despite your pathetic physical structuring, you continue to be a credit to your people."

"Well, um, I do like to believe that I take decent enough care of myself," Noah answered through a series of coughs and throat clearings, the 41-year-old clearly wishing that he was able to clean his glasses once again. "And the spectral technology is nothing I haven't already created before. The defensive measures are merely. . . merely an expansion upon the original premise that. . . please. Put me down, please," he finished desperately. "I'm running out of air."

"Ah, don't be so humble, C.C.," Nightwing interrupted as Knockout once again gave the hacker both solid footing and the opportunity to breathe. "We probably wouldn't still be in this fight if it wasn't for your idea to expand the protections from the Source Room outside of the mansion and out to most of Gotham. Hell, Beijing, New York, and San Francisco would have been a lot better off if they had been under your eye."

"A sentiment that I've often felt to be true well before all this madness," Noah replied stiffly, a sliver of his pompousness stirring to life in the midst of the compliments directed towards him as he hastily returned to his workstation.

"If only that fool Deathstroke had provided a similar display of assistance," Knockout growled as the keyboards beneath Noah's fingertips erupted with clatters and clicks. "And if only I had the opportunity to snap the bones of that piece of refuse with my bare hands."

"So we still haven't heard from him?" Arrowette asked.

"Afraid not," Nightwing answered as he leaned his right hip against one of the unused terminals. "And as much as I'm surprisingly myself by saying this," he added, "what happened there could have taken a lot out of everybody."

"We've all had a lot taken out of us, Dickie," Arrowette countered, the fingers on her right hand unconsciously rising up to graze the thick scar that started at the middle of her right cheek before ending just a half-of-an-inch below her eye. "That doesn't mean that we have the excuse to just jump ship and leave our problems on somebody else's doorstep."

"You up for telling that to Deathstroke the Terminator?" Nightwing calmly asked in response to the hostile retort. "Trust me. Slade Wilson is a lot of things, much of which aren't that appealing, but a coward isn't one of them. That being said, with the 1,001 things we're being left to deal with, we don't exactly have the time to check on Slade so we may as well just go and deal with the consequences."

"Well, despite such glowing words of encouragement and inspiration," The Calculator broke in, his pithy response earning him a sharp glare from one Richard Grayson. "Perhaps I can provide news that we might find to be a bit more refreshing."

The three other vigilantes all turned to meet the suddenly brightening features of their comrade, their eyes soon turning to the image provided by the monitor. The image of an enormous ship stood tall over the four of them, the craft looking ragged but strong as it zoomed its way westward over The Atlantic Ocean.

"They're back."

* * *

_Rio de Janeiro _

Many anthropologists and cultural historians have long studied the history of Arpoador and many of them had come to think of the expansive suburb as a phenomenally accurate symbol of this city's violent but still thriving metropolis. A small section of land along the peninsula that held much of the southern half of the city, the small area drew thousands of tourists and future residents alike each year with the allure of its cosmopolitan appeal, sun-kissed beaches, and majestic rock formations along the Atlantic coast. The area's infrastructure had been strengthened by the millions of tourist dollars coming in and destroyed by the subsequent wasting of said monies along the way. As a result, a collection of shanty towns had come to be established around the massive skyscrapers and resorts, the deprived area quickly becoming a densely populated series of slums that had fallen to the vicious desires of local merchants and drug dealers seeking their own meager slice of what little there was left to be had.

Simply put, this small portion of one of the largest commercial center in all of South America had become one of the world's most precise representations of how power could be misused and perverted by those who had the will to do so.

This facet, among others, had made this area the perfect base of operations for Vincent Culp and his lieutenants, many of whom were currently clustered around a gorgeous, 10-foot wide round table made from the finest in Brazilian mahogany. The brilliant piece of craftsmanship had once served as the centerpiece of the executive suite of one of Rio's fastest rising young businessmen before Edgar Cizko had chosen to make his presence felt in the man's life. The little man claimed that the desire would look much better at the top floor of his hotel. This opinion was quickly disputed by the table's owner, the young man claiming that the structure served as a symbol for his decades-long struggle to rise from the slums of Guanabara Bay on his way to glory and success in his home land.

From the way Doctor Psycho had told the story, the young entrepreneur did not appreciate the irony of watching his friends and family having their eyes gouged out with a harpoon, another symbol of the city's growth and development, before suffering the same fate himself. Still, as bizarrely amusing as The Silver Coyote found the tale to be, the assassin was wise to continue focusing his attentions on Hank Henshaw as he continued to hold the floor.

"There was another incident at the public display in Metropolis," the android reported in his cold, emotionless hum. "The Manhunters were more than capable of turning back the resistance with a minimum of civilian casualties and restoring order to the scene. Field evidence indicates that the event was nothing more than another display of civil unrest but I have assigned a regiment of Yellow Lanterns to look into the matter in case there is something more behind it."

Vincent gave a respectful nod in deference to his diligent colleague and his efforts in keeping Metropolis well under control.

"Jeepers, you'd think that the weekend warriors would have learned their lesson by now," added Edgar Cizko with an amused leer. "Especially given what happened to the last band of superheroes that tried to vandalize our perfectly appropriate crucifixion scene. I still say that Hawkgirl's brain tasted like chicken."

"Enough, Edgar," Vincent interrupted with a well-practiced sigh.

"I mean, it's not like I didn't offer you guys the chance to disagree with me but noooooooo. All of you are just too good to eat the flesh of our enemies. . ."

"QUIET!" snapped The Silver Coyote before turning his attentions to one of his more orderly lieutenants. "Kurkosaw. How goes matters at the prison camps?"

The elephantine Sinestro Corps general rose to his massive feet, the former prison warden taking a moment to straighten his uniform before presenting his report. "The containment units established at Alcatraz, Blackgate, and Changi remain undamaged, thus allowing us to continue to safely detain our growing supply of war prisoners."

"Hey, boss," Cizko interrupted again while placing his expensive, Italian dress shoes upon his messily acquired desk. "Are you sure we can't just take a little time off and head over to Alcatraz? I mean, I've always wanted to visit. Now to mention I can set up some shower cams. I mean, I don't know what you guys think about this but I think about all those nubile Teen Titans soaping up their bodies and I'm seeing a prison porno empire in the making. . ."

The Silver Coyote had to take a moment to remind himself about how integral the diminutive telepath had become in maintaining a hold over some of the most powerful members of his army. Because of this, he once again shoved back the urge to shove his katana through the wretched creature's chest and remained calm. Cizko, on the other hand, more than capable of recognizing his place in the proceedings, let out another smile before waving his stubby hand and allowing Kurkosaw to continue.

"Unfortunately, our efforts in capturing the few remaining clusters of active heroes have not been quite as successful. In particular, Hawkman's unit in New Orleans is still causing us a bit of trouble. However, Mister Culp, I must agree with your earlier assessment that these small factions will provide little interference in accomplishing our primary directive."

"Then let us turn our attentions to the larger risks," Vincent said as he swung his sharp gaze over to his second-in-command, "How goes the battle on Themyscira?"

The expression on Hunter Zolomon's austere countenance was just as strict as Henshaw's or Kurkosaw's.

"We have suffered minimal casualties over the course of the daily exchange," the speedster declared, his shimmering crimson eyes just finishing the broadcast of a hateful glare sent Doctor Psycho's way. "The maneuvers of the Amazons have grown highly defensive in nature, no doubt a response to our past attacks upon their transport lines along their eastern seaboard. Unfortunately, it appears that their food, water, and troop supplies are far healthier than we originally anticipated and any attempts to commit to a full-scale invasion would only result in casualties we can't afford to have."

Vincent dismissed his friend's worries with a shake of his head. "That is of little consequence. Our goal is to cripple the Amazons, leave them unable to interfere with our test. Not to eliminate them."

"Vincent, I must once again say that I believe that this maneuver may very well be our downfall," Kurkosaw butted in, his chair giving out an audible creak as he slammed his massive frame down in a gesture of frustration. "There is no need to show mercy upon those interfering slatterns. It is in our best interest to simply raze the island to the ground and then destroy that convoy bearing down upon us before this planet can unite their forces!"

"Yeah, this may be a bad idea, Vincie," Cizko agreed. "Not as bad as, say, trying to frighten a bunch of angry bears by shooting an innocent cub in the back but . . ."

The speed with which Kurkosaw brandished his ring was almost too much for even Henshaw to slide in front of, the android quick to do what he could to defuse the hostilities. Vincent and Zolomon shared a look of exhaustion, the both of them long-tired of having to endure what they considered to be the childish bickering of their comrades.

Doctor Psycho, of course, remained as calm as a psychotic clam in sand. "Put your magic feather away, Dumbo," the misogynistic murderer drawled out while Henshaw wrestled his fellow Yellow Lantern down from his fury.

"Gentlemen, allow me to remind you that we are not here to take liberties upon our worthy challengers or to punish those that are too young to understand that they were being used," Vincent explained, his scratchy voice sounding surprisingly clear despite all the distractions around him. "Our prisoners of war will not be treated with undue harshness and the transport convoy will be allowed to land safely."

The Silver Coyote's lieutenants remained silent through their leader's unusual command, the assemblage of killers looking up in deference to a superior hunter. In response, Vincent swept his icy, blue eyes across his comrades, the men and monsters that had helped him make true the dreams he had hoped to achieve since the first day he had been trapped within that stifling cell in the musty basement of The Monster Farm.

"We are here to fight for the right to rule what we protect," The Silver Coyote stressed once again, his confidence and vigor ringing true. "If we continue to work together towards that goal, we will all receive what rightfully belongs to us."

"Speaking of doing their fair share," Zoom interrupted. "Just where is Sinestro? I would have thought that he should be attending this meeting."

Cizko let out a grunt, the telepath now confident that his response wouldn't leave him without a head to call his own. "Ah, knowing 'The Grape Ape', which I unfortunately do, he's probably having another chat with his new bestest friend. No doubt some twaddle rife with psychological insight and intellectual discourse and blah de blah de blah."

* * *

_Barcelona – Waynetech Spanish Headquarters, 37__th__ floor_

Bruce Wayne slowly slid his eyes open, his tired vision taking in the achingly simple sights of the room he had been forced to remain in for nearly four weeks.

Of course, the circumstances were not quite as dreadful as it could have been. In fact, the plush accommodations of the executive residence quarters, a recent renovation in the massive building where he, Lucius, and other commercial power players had worked together to broker deals and grants worth nearly 40 billion dollars, had been specifically altered to suit his living preferences. A simple bed with a goose down comforter, an equally uncomplicated dining table, and all the space the detective would need in order to go through his daily exercises were all readily available to him in accordance to his captor's wishes. Of course, the nimbus of golden energy that twisted around the entirety of his prison, the bizarre, amalgamated eldritch and electromagnetic frequency that remained invisible to the human eye, admittedly put a damper on the otherwise comfortable holding cell.

And there was also the matter of his only source of company.

"I'm sure you'll be happy to learn that your comrades have returned safely," Sinestro informed him in a decidedly neutral manner, the Qwardian calmly taking the seat across from him as he had many times before.

"And I'm sure you're pleased that everything appears to be going according to plan," Bruce replied with an equal degree of detachment, his long fingers pressed against each other as he perched his chin on top of both of his ring fingers. "Now, I'm presuming that there is a purpose behind this visit other than that unnecessary bit of news."

"So glad to see that we're no longer insulting each other's intelligence," the former Green Lantern countered, the longtime officer of the law refusing to slump, blink, or give any other advantage in this silent game of psychological chess. "Very well," the co-leader of the Yellow Lanterns relented. "I do have a question for you. One that you've chosen to avoid answering over the course of our past exchanges."

The Batman took a moment to cast a caustic glare at his unwanted company. "I'm afraid that you'll have to be more specific."

"Why did you refuse my invitation to become a part of my army?" Sinestro moved on, the extraterrestrial dictator simply unwilling to be swayed by any sarcasm or psychological prodding that his unwilling colleague had to provide. "I had chosen you, out of nearly 10 billion souls, to serve as a representation of the values that have created leaders, constructed noble and just empires, kingdoms, and republics since the dawn of civilization. I have long respected your propensities to rouse courage in the hearts of the just and inspire fear in the hearts of fools and I wished to honor your commitment to that shared cause. And now, after carelessly casting that gesture aside, I want to know _why_."

Bruce let out a sigh, his thoughts casting him back to the event in question. It happened during the tail end of a daily patrol, his heavy boots crashing against the pavement along the rooftops of downtown Gotham as he and Arrowette raced to return to the Batmobile in order to cut off an attempted bank robbery. The blaze of golden energy that coursed through the night sky caused Arrowette to squawk in surprise and the glow around his body prompted her to frantically ask if he was all right. Even now, nearly three months after it all, he had to admit that he could still feel the power that he had been offered, sense the mystic energy coursing through his veins and tempting his all-too-human spirit. It was so much of what he had wanted, what he had been working endlessly to gain, and what he had, for so long, been envious of others for having.

He could have used that ring to protect the world.

And, perhaps more importantly, _he wouldn't have had to rely on others to do it for him._

"I'll admit that you offered me something that I've wanted for longer than I care to remember," Bruce confessed. "However, I also know enough about what I am and what kind of person I've become to know that, had I accepted, it would have only ended in failure. Creatures like us should never have that kind of power."

"Creatures like us?" asked Sinestro, the thin, black row of hairs that served as his left eyebrow clashing awkwardly with his deep, amethyst skin.

"Those who want to do far too much with the power we're given."

Sinestro's grin was slight but still simple to see, the longtime hero and despot both amused and intrigued by the Earthling's conclusion. "Fair enough," he relented as he casually leaned back in his chair. "So you would prefer to manipulate others to do the metaphorical heavy lifting for you. Well, I can certainly understand why you would wish to take that particular avenue. I've often wondered about how my life would have changed had I chosen not to sully my hands."

"I never had any doubt that you had," Bruce countered. "In fact, I also know that you're wise enough to realize how impossible your ambitions truly are. You should know enough about history to realize that even the strictest of ideals will always be changed by time and imperfections."

The dictator of one of the galaxy's most orderly and repressed civilizations let out a heady sigh, as if he couldn't believe that the Earthling would pull such a trite, psychological power play. "Says the man who has pledged his life to fighting a war against the inevitable. And, for the record, I am not foolish enough to believe that my authority will last forever. I only wish to construct and maintain the most peaceful and orderly existence for all those that fall under my protection. Just as you have tirelessly patrolled the streets of your beloved home, I will do what is necessary to prepare this planet, this beacon of history, for what is to come."

"By coercing them to run through your trials?" Batman fired back with a growl. "By attempting to stifle individuality and limiting triumphs and failures? You're not preparing anyone for anything."

Sinestro countered with a derisive snort, the Yellow Lantern unwilling to point out the hypocrisy behind his opponent's words.

"You should hope, for your sake, that your students are prepared for what Vincent and I have ready for them."

The two longtime power players stared each other down refusing to give an inch, the smirk on the Yellow Lantern's noble face clashing silently with the snarl on Bruce's tired but still strong countenance.

"They will be."

* * *

Just as Lloyd had expected, the reunions taking place within the main hangar of The Batcave were going fast and furious. He couldn't help but chuckle when a squealing Cecilia made her presence felt first, the young archer all but crashing into Stephanie with Cassandra Cain just a few steps behind. However, as endearing as the sight could have been, even a slight skim through the turbulent thoughts swirling around Arrowette and the others did enough to knock the wind out of his mood. He found himself unconsciously casting a wistful stare back at the _Big Whale_, the pleasure of that simple existence slowly washing away before an inquisitive look at Kara prompted him to put his eyes back on the prize.

Thankfully, the reuniting of families was far more pleasing as he watched Lian all but leapt into her father's chest with all the force her 68 pounds could pull together. Of course, judging from the enormous smile on his face, Roy was more than happy to accept the punishment as he picked his daughter up before twirling his little girl about and peppering her face with kisses. Wally, on the other hand, found himself suddenly running short on arms as Jai, Iris, and Linda all clustered around him. Lloyd made certain to move a few steps forward, if only to have a good look at the unrestrained relief on his friend's face as The Flash all but bathed in the warmth of his family.

Of course, there were other kinds of family for him to peruse as well. For example, Deadshot, Knockout, and Ragdoll had been surprisingly quick to cross paths with Victor Fries, the reuniting of associates quite rife with what Mao would have referred to as "the healthy side of uncertainty". The insecurity continued to rise as Knockout began to pester her armored partner about his exploits, the statuesque redhead quick to hang on to what few words that Mister Freeze was willing to provide before happily displaying her thoughts.

"Bah! You should have been searching for more ways to bring war and bloodshed to our enemies!" Knockout exclaimed. "Honestly, Earthling. It is the only way for warriors like us to truly stay alive!"

"That and booze," Deadshot added before taking a puff from his cigar.

"I've always thought that spending time with my monkeys was a profitable spending of my time," Ragdoll threw in. "And, of course, the occasional trip to the local carnival. Nothing like a trip to the freak tent in order to settle one's sexual pangs, I say."

Lloyd could see Hal shaking his head and hear Kara's chuckling as the three of them slowly twisted their way through the crowd on their way to the central computer. Of course, as professional as he had wanted to appear, he couldn't help but turn back into the insecure little 15-year-old for just a flicker as Scandal made her way towards him. Softly embracing the young immortal, he took comfort in the warmth rising from his big sister's shoulders.

"A lot has happened, huh?" he asked while keeping one eye on Kara as she moved to hug Noah.

"Ugh," Scandal appropriately replied as she slowly nodded into Lloyd's chest. "A lot is always happening. I'm just glad that you're safe."

"Yeah, me too," Lloyd said as he slightly tightened his grip around Scandal's lower back. "Well. . . I'm glad that I know that you're safe," he added with a bit more hesitancy and a lot more awkwardness. "I, well, I already knew that I was safe, y'know."

"I would hope so," Scandal said rather shrewdly as both she and Lloyd pulled away.

"Always keeping your eyes on the pretty girls, huh? Don't even have the decency to save some time for your beer buddies?"

The Black Dog's face set into a smile as he caught the sight of Richard Grayson striding forward. The pair of raven-haired vigilantes quickly came together in a typically macho embrace, a gesture full of shoulder pounding and manly grunts that caused Scandal to let out a snort of amusement. Still, as diverting as his big sister's response could have potentially been, Lloyd couldn't help but notice the silent confidence that was running though his friend's movements and thoughts. The shade of Bruce Wayne that seemed to always run through his friend seemed to have grown a bit thicker, the authority and confidence that came with it mixing in with the optimism that Nightwing had always worked so hard to hold together.

_Welcome back, my friend, _Lloyd thought with a quiet smile. _Even if I didn't know you before_.

"Well, with Hal and his troops we've now got about 4,500 able bodies," Nightwing reported to Lloyd and anybody else around who was up for listening. "And, judging from that number, things in space went even worse than I thought or I should be a little angry about not getting a little more back up."

"I'm afraid it's going to have to be a bit of both," Hal replied with a hint of reluctance. "We had to split our forces in order to give the ones going to Qward enough manpower to disable the Sinestro Corps' central power battery."

"Well, it's good to hear that we've acquired a bit more salient information," Scandal admitted. "Do we have any way of knowing when they'll be able to begin their assault? If only so we could combine our efforts and deny the possibility of reinforcements?"

"Yeah, we're hooked up wit' the Corps through the_ Big Whale's _communication network," Lloyd replied as Kara and Noah moved closer to the hub of the conversation. "Answer Man here shouldn't have any troubles patching together the connections and getting a new system up and running."

"Well, I believe I'll be the judge of that," Noah said with a hint of tartness. "I figure I have that right, given as how it has only taken five minutes back on this planet for you to burden me with your grunt work."

Kara's gentle rubbing of his shoulders did little to appease the computer expert as he began making his way to the craft in question. However, his path was soon cut off by an unexpected bump in the road. In fact, despite the fact that he was moving a great deal slower than he could have been, The Flash's sudden arrival nevertheless caused Noah to let out a jolt of surprise.

"Y. . .y. . .yes?" Noah stuttered, his many memories of being incarcerated by the scarlet speedster running quite fresh in his mind. "May I help you?"

"My wife tells me that you're the one responsible for this place safe." Wally replied, the Titan founder surprisingly quick to cut to the chase.

"Well, I suppose I am," Noah uncomfortably confessed. "It is my technology, after all. However, the proliferation of the energy shielding would not have been possible if not for. . ."

"That means you kept my family safe," Wally continued, the young father clearly not at all interested in whatever adjustments or modifications that the hacker suddenly felt the need to describe to him. "Which means that pretty much any bad blood that I had for you just got flushed right down the toity."

"Oh," Noah vocally and mentally realized. "Well. That's. Nice."

"Just figured you should know that," Wally added, the hero surprising Noah once again by heartily clapping him on the shoulder while turning towards his best friend. "Dick. Good to see you. Good to hear that you apparently got your balls back."

Nightwing found himself having little to say about his friend's observation, preferring instead to watch the former Justice Leaguer make his way out of the cave in order to further catch up with his family. However, his attentions were soon captured by a blur of a fist that quickly crashed across his jaw, the impact causing him to involuntarily spin about before tripping and falling to the ground. Looking up, he blearily caught the sight of Kara attempting to restrain his angry attacker.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Stephanie shrieked, the rage on Robin's face clashing badly with the tears running from her eyes. "You said you were going to make sure he was safe! How could you let that happen?!"

"Robin, it was not his fault," Scandal said sternly while helping Nightwing to his feet. "You had absolutely no right to do such a thing!"

"You made a promise to take care of him!" the young Green Lantern spat as she struggled to break free from Kara's clutches. "I told you that he'd get himself killed if you weren't there for him!"

Dick could still feel his senses swimming as he spoke. "It was his choice, Robin," he countered before letting loose with a wet cough. "If there was _anything _I could have done. Anything I could have. . . And there's still a chance that he's alive and. . ."

Nightwing's blind hopes were cut short as Robin crashed into him once again. This impact, however, was far gentler on the both of them as the younger Robin frantically wrapped her quivering arms around Dick's shoulders. The emotion flowing through the young woman's body was enough to momentarily break him, forcing a sob to escape his lips as the two of them slowly rocked in each other's arms.

"He has to be okay," Stephanie muttered through the messy curtain of hair that had fallen over her eyes. "He's gotta. He's my. . . He's Batman. He has to be okay."

The sadness reigned for just a moment or two longer, the two Robins soon realizing that Bruce would have never approved of such a reaction, such a display of unprofessionalism. The two of them broke apart just as Lloyd and Scandal had only a minute or so before, the words of The Black Dog bringing them back to where they needed to be.

"So Batman's momentarily out of the picture. Are we missing any other big names?"

"Rose and Slade Wilson," Scandal replied, the leader of The Secret Six making certain to keep her voice as firm and unyielding as Lloyd's. "Deathstroke has been M.I.A. since a skirmish we had with one of Zoom's patrol units 17 days ago."

"And Ravager?" asked Lloyd, an understandable note of hesitance within his inquiry.

The brief lowering of Scandal's eyes told him that he most likely had a right to be worried.

"Perhaps it's best if you went and saw for yourself."

"Indeed," Noah added before moving to take handkerchief to glass yet again. "And, perchance, you can also aid in transporting the remainder of this shipment we've been struggling to pass on. Having a teleporter should do wonders for getting the necessities around in troubled times such as these."

The Black Dog raised his eyebrow at the team's resident hacker, the young man momentarily amused that his comrade had so easily forced him to walk a mile in his metaphorical moccasins.

"But I've just been here for goin' on five minutes, Brain Guy."

The Calculator, his hands busy with placing his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose, merely shrugged his shoulders.

* * *

_Gotham Memorial Hospital_

"You okay with this, little sis?"

Stephanie threw a hesitant glance in Lloyd's direction as the two of them slowly made their way down the long, sterile hallway. Although she found it rather refreshing to finally be able to tromp around in a t-shirt and blue jeans after parading about for well over a month in uncomfy battle armor, the irritation that had built up in her reddened eyes was starting to bug the shit out of her.

"Better here than back at the mansion and thinking about how big of an idiot I am."

"You are not a big idiot," Lloyd sternly informed his friend, The Black Dog making certain to pause for effect before adding. "You're five-foot-six even wit' those compensation boots of yours and weigh about 10 stone soaking wet. These things make you an exceedingly little idiot."

The punch she fired at her big brother's shoulder and the laugh that escaped from her lungs as she made contact made her feel a little bit better. The hopeful smile on the face of the woman who had been waiting for them was uplifting as well and the rush to make herself feel better caused Stephanie to rush forward in order to embrace her other employer.

"It's so good to see that the both of you are safe," exclaimed Doctor Leslie Thompkins as she gently rubbed Stephanie's back. "And thank you very much for getting here as quickly as you could. Those supplies you brought over have the chance of saving a lot of lives."

"C'mon now, Doc," Lloyd said with a wry smile while accepting the grizzled doctor's friendly handshake. "Never been one to turn down a bloke or lass in need."

"Well, we could use a lot more people like you then," Leslie said with a weary sigh as she accepted a quick peck on the cheek from Stephanie. "The flood of refugees from New York has left a lot of the city's public institutions overcrowded. Noah and Scandal have been doing well to get what we need to stay afloat but. . ."

"Don't worry, Doc," Stephanie said with a watery smile. "We're gonna take care of that 'but'. Right after we finish kicking Vincent's butt."

"Such clever wordplay, Tweety," Lloyd mumbled, the response causing Stephanie to offer him a one-fingered hand gesture in return. "However, 'm afraid we're not just here to ship gauze and syringes."

"So I've been told," Leslie answered while gesturing towards the open door she had been standing beside mere moments before. "Just remember to be quiet please," she added softly as she allowed the two partners to make their way inside.

Lloyd and Stephanie were quick to comply to the aged doctor's request, the both of them remaining hushed even after witnessing the harrowing sight in front of them. Rose Wilson lay absolutely still upon the hospital bed at the other end of the room, her entire body covered in a variety of freshly changed bandages and browning body casts. A small army of tubes seemed to jut from the tiny slips of skin that weren't covered in gauze or plaster, the small hoses responsible for everything from administering morphine to providing necessary vitamins and minerals to removing possibly infected internal fluids from the young mercenary's body and replacing it with what she would need to survive. Even the shallow movements of her chest were nearly entirely hidden by the stark, white wrapping, the sight of the poor girl reminding Lloyd of those ridiculous hospital parodies that he would watch on television as a boy.

"We're still trying to figure out just how she managed to survive," Doctor Thompkins whispered. "Her heart had stopped twice by the time she was being transported over to the ER and we've many more close calls since then. I recognize that her unique metabolism allows her to survive through extensive bodily harm but. . ."

"What happened?" Lloyd asked firmly, his eyes locked on the twitching flaps of skin that covered Ravager's eye.

The grey-haired doctor was quick to recognize the solid tone that Lloyd had given to her and chose to respond in kind. "Hunter Zolomon had apparently wanted to make an example of her. We're estimating that he had broken nearly 175 bones in her body but the damage was too extensive to come up with a proper figure. It took four hours of full, open-chest surgery just to keep shards of her sternum from piercing her heart and we're still having to administer blood transfusions every 12 hours just to prevent the possibility of bloodborne infections. We've managed to keep her asleep for much of the last week with a gradually increasing supply of morphine but. . . my God. . . Who would do such a thing?"

Now it was Stephanie's turn to be the comforter, the young woman gently rubbing Leslie's right shoulder with her right hand. "Monsters, doc. Nothing but bloodthirsty dogs."

"Too right," Lloyd agreed, his eyes now glued to Rose's heart monitor as the machine beeped slow and steady. "An' it's up to us to put 'em down."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

SURPRISE!!

Yeah, I got myself a new nighttime job last week that is starting up in oooh (checks watch) about an hour from now and I figured that the best way to spend this influx of spare time was to update my fanfiction series for my dozens and dozens of fans.

Oh, and if that isn't an indication of my crappy choice in priorities then, quite frankly, I don't know what is.

All joking aside, thanks to all of you who gave some feedback to the last chapter. Terra Errare, and, in fact, all of _Power Play _was something I had put a lot of time, effort, and thought into and I'm glad that a lot of you appreciated it. As for the series itself, I'm currently estimating this arc to be another 12-parter (or 13, depending upon how long I want to make the epilogue) and then the series will be put on hiatus for a while. Not to worry though, since you'll still be getting your biweekly Misfit fix in the form of one-shots and short series. In fact, if there's anything you'd like me to throw in, I'd be more than happy to see if I can give it a shot. For example, that invisible person in the corner just said that they'd like to see the next issue preview!

* * *

Issue #73 Preview

Well, the rest period is over and it's time to get back to the death and dismemberment! How will The Misfits and The Secret Six respond to Vincent's decision to help the good guys cram for their upcoming exam? What violence and madness does The Silver Coyote and his army have in store for Earth's last, best chance for survival and what happens when the end of one relationship brings about the growth of another? Find out the answers to these questions and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Root Through the Concrete. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	73. Root through the Concrete

Issue #73

Issue #73

Root through the Concrete

_Batplane Model #2-AR7 - 2.7 miles above Harper's Ferry, West Virginia_

After taking a moment to gander at the travel itinerary of one Stephanie Brown over the course of the last five weeks, most people would have been quite confident in believing that the young woman would be suffering from more than her share of jet lag. While traveling from Gotham to England to Gotham to Oa to Karbarra to Oa and back to Gotham again, she had, over the course of the last 35 days, logged up nearly 15 light years of air and space travel. Of course, while others who would have had to endure such a complicated path of travel would most likely be busy working out how to spend their frequent flier miles, Robin's decision to remain a legally dead, intergalactic warrior who had been foolish enough to make these travels through privately owned enterprises had ultimately left her without any free trips to the Bahamas or Hawaii to enjoy in her future.

That is, of course, if she can't manage to tempt Jamie Bell in meeting her over at one of those fine spots of land for a little midnight romp under the stars. Nothing but him and her and a bottle of champagne and the wonderful little condition they'd establish ahead of time where he wouldn't be allowed to wear any clothes. . .

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP?" Arrowette snapped, the young archer far too stressed to put up with her friend's noisy revelations and contemplations. "HUAAARGH! I mean, we're about to go off to a battle against all the bitches and bastards that have made our lives hell for the past few months and we've got no backup from most of the Green Lantern Corps and I don't really need to have any more stupidity in my life!"

Stephanie let out a mildly indignant huff while working to make herself more comfortable upon the metal bench that she happened to be sharing with Cecilia. "Well, first of all, you've known me long enough to know that this is the way I calm myself down before I get into a fight. Second of all, the reason we're not bringing the Corps with us is because Vincent threatened to have the Yellow Lanterns atomize the Appalachian Mountains if we didn't play by his rules. Oh, and third of all, you and I have both frequently agreed that Jamie Bell is positively scrumptious so don't jump on my case just because you're stressed out and I want myself a hunk of British beef."

Arrowette suddenly found herself completely unable to hide the disbelief she felt from her friend's words, her eyes goggling at the poker face her friend had brought to the table. Robin, of course, was more than ready with a counter, her upraised eyebrows nothing more than a dare to disagree. The moment hung in the air for several seconds more before Cecilia finally surrendered, the stress draining from her body as she shook her head back and forth, let out an ungainly snort, and wrapped a friendly arm around Robin's shoulders.

"I missed you, Steffers."

Robin weathered the confession with a tender smile as she took in the slow, arching smile on her friend's face. "Yeah, I missed you too, Cissers. Just be sure to keep yourself alive through all of this 'cause you still owe me a rematch in Mario Kart."

Arrowette pursed her lips, the young woman doubtlessly taking in the request with a great degree of solemnity. "Last time's winner gets to call The Pimpmobile," she unnecessarily reminded.

Stephanie let out a sad sigh; her fond memories of Wario's ugly mug alight with glee while piloting his hideously purple muscle car warming her heart. "Guess I'll just have to go with King Boo and hope for the best."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to apologize once again for the short notice on this scramble," Nightwing announced over the intercom systems that Noah had constructed throughout Bruce's entire army of transport vehicles. "However, I'm afraid that time is most certainly of the essence and we're just going to have to give most of you the news while we're on our way to make it."

"OI!" another voice barked out through the audio network, the volume and suddenness of the new arrival causing Cecilia to let out a mild jump. "Who the buggerin' hell said you were in charge of all o' this?"

The shared look between the two fair-haired vigilantes was almost instinctual, their mutual interest towards how this would turn out uniting them once again.

"Because I've been in charge of the missions for the last month," Dick calmly replied, his tone revealing only a smidgen of irritation. "And, quite frankly, given that the planet is still standing, I think I've done a good job with the leadership duties, thank you very much."

"The only reason you were in charge was 'cause I wasn't here, 'ittle gypsy," The Black Dog fired back, the rushing winds he was coasting his way through providing only a modicum of interference. "Oh, and don't start goin' on about keepin' planets safe 'cause I've been busy _saving _planets."

"Yeah, well you couldn't have done it without Kara and the Corps!" Nightwing countered from the passenger seat of one of his father's older but more reliable stealth jets.

"And _you _couldn't have done a bloody thing if it wasn't for Brain Guy and Scandal savin' ya narrow ass on what seems to be an 'ourly basis!"

"Children," Talia warned the quarreling commanders from the relative safety of the seat to Dick's left. "Do not force me to turn this plane around."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Talia on this," added Scandal Savage, her concentration mostly centered on pulling the jet she was piloting into a left bank turn that would help her keep pace with the rest of the convoy. "And if the both of you don't learn to share then I'll simply take command for myself."

As both of their veteran field commanders grumbled and hedged like five-year-olds, Cecilia and Stephanie both found they had to work hard to suppress the sudden urge to roll around the floor of the plane and laugh like jackals. Thankfully, and before too many of their fellow passengers could wonder just why the two of them were there, the briefing began anew.

"Very well," Lloyd appeared to acquiesce. "The floor is yours, Dickard. Age before beauty an' all that."

"And pearls before puppies, Lloyd Boy," Nightwing countered with equal levity before launching into the crux of his hastily prepared statements. "An hour ago, The Calculator's communication network received an encrypted audio transmission from an untraceable source of origin. The communication was from Vincent Culp, also known as The Silver Coyote, who demanded that we assemble 200 of our finest soldiers in order to engage in battle with 200 members of his army within a small, isolated portion of the Appalachian Mountains. I realize that most of you will find these circumstances to be highly unusual but the fact remains that Vincent's threat to directly attack American soil should we have refused is something we can simply not accept as a bluff."

"Just remember that we've got 4,000 troopers waiting in the wings if everything's not on the level, ladies and gents," The Black Dog threw in, the transition of focus from one field general to another surprisingly seamless to anyone who didn't know the both of them. "If this is an honest maneuver, however, then expect to be seeing the biggest guns they have. Sinestro, Zoom, Hank Henshaw, Leokar Kurkosaw. . . Even Vincent himself are all probably gonna make their presence felt. These people want to see what we're capable of bringin' to the table and the only way he knows to figure that out is by comin' at us with his best."

"Once again, please remember, if at all possible, to leave the field commanders of the opponent's forces to those who have been assigned to take them on," Nightwing reminded sternly, the elder commanding officer well aware of the risk of stepping on some of his comrades' toes. "If you must engage, please remember that they are all exceedingly dangerous and require the strictest caution."

There was a hint of dead air that hung for a handful of seconds, as if Grayson was expecting Lloyd to take over for him. To his credit (and to Stephanie's happy surprise) Batman's first junior partner was quick to recover and even faster to the task of taking the reins.

"We've all heard that this bastard thinks that this is nothing more than a test. Well, I say it's high time we draw a little blood on our professor. He wants to see if we're worthy of whatever he's got planned? Ladies and gentlemen, let's show him why we are."

* * *

Nearly ten seconds ago, the sky above the southern edge of Boone County, West Virginia appeared to have erupted in a blaze of red and gold. This colorful but seemingly impossible anomaly, a product of enough crimson solar rays and eldritch energy to erode the Earth's surface as far down as the planet's core, had been quick to streak towards the fleet of planes above it. It was only through the protection provided by an enormous energy dome, a barrier created with the combined energies of Lloyd Thomas, Stephanie Brown, Guy Gardner and The Calculator's main spectral manipulation generators, that Hal Jordan and his fellow Lanterns had enough time to coordinate the small army's mostly safe descent to the ground.

As perilous as the situation at hand could certainly have turned out to be, the safety of those who couldn't travel the skies could arguably have not been placed in more talented hands. Nightwing was quickly reminded of that as he was carried down through the clouds with the aid of Hal Jordan's energy platform. He made certain to keep one eye on the founding member of the Justice League the entire way down, the young detective's lips creeping into a small smile as the longtime pilot seemed to weave his way through the myriad of fire and death with fearless, almost effortless ease. Most of his attention, however, was devoted to keeping his sights on the streak of red plunging downward faster than any of the Lanterns could safely manage. The former acrobat soon discovered he had to clamp his eyes shut in order to weather the gust of wind that blustered upward, the bizarre blast of air serving as the byproduct of The Flash whirling his arms at a speed that would enable him to buffer his descent and safely touch down under his own power.

Dick could almost feel the hum of the energy around him as his body once again made contact with solid ground. The ridges in the heels of his boots allowed him to easily manage any difficulties the rocky terrain had to provide, his confidence in movement giving him more than enough assurance to get dip himself into the madness once again. Unhooking one of the many flash grenades strapped to his utility belt, he let one of the small incendiaries fly straight at the feet of a White Martian who had been waiting for them. He could feel his lips twisting into a dangerous smile as he took in the anguished howl of his victim, the anticipation of what was to come blunted only slightly by the booming voice that was quick to follow.

"Well, I've gotta say that it's just wonderful to see all of your bright, shining faces again!" exclaimed Doctor Psycho, the man's Bostonian accent made far more distinguishable thanks to whatever amplification equipment the hidden telepath had apparently gotten a hold of. "Now how's about you all come and find me so you can see just what sharp teeth I have. They're all the better to eat you with, after all."

Nightwing growled as he attacked his still disoriented opponent with a series of strikes from his escrima sticks, the combination of precision and strength threatening to shatter even the Martian's sturdy bones.

_Want to play The Big Bad Wolf now, huh? Well, you give me a chance and I'll see if I can be the woodcutter.

* * *

_It took 2.6 seconds for Kara Zor-el to make her trip from the energy dome down to the mountainous battlefield nearly 15,000 feet below. It took even less time for her to be found by the man she just happened to be looking for, the streak of red and gold quick to meet her before the both of them crashed through a snow-capped knoll. Several tons of rock piled down and around the two warriors as they began to circle each other, the ferocity of the opening gambit already convincing many of the other combatants to give the affair a wide berth.

"I couldn't help but notice that you managed to deflect quite a few of the blasts I specifically sent your way, little one," Hank Henshaw pointed out, his mechanical drawl matching well with the dull, crimson glow stemming from his cybernetic eye. "Your cousin has never been able to pull off such a feat. Could it be that a Kryptonian could actually learn from their many mistakes?"

Kara's first retort came in the form of a left hook that crashed across the android's jaw. She kept her comments coming with a jab-jab-body blow-heel kick-uppercut combination that sent her beleaguered foe hurtling into the air at nearly three times the speed of sound. As fast as that was though, it had left her more than enough time to meet Henshaw at about a half a mile up with a double-ax handle that sent the Sinestro Corps general rushing down to the ground with a messy crash. Although she poured a great deal of speed into her trip back down to the surface, she made certain to keep herself centered enough to see the blast of golden energy coming at her well ahead of time. A ray of concentrated solar energy offered just enough of a buffer to make her way back down safely, the energy stalemate coming to an end just before her long, graceful feet touched the wrecked ground.

"I'm only half-Kryptonian," Kara reminded her opponent while he quickly and easily repaired all the damage she had inflicted. "More importantly, I am the product of two destroyed civilizations and I'm not about to let a third one die on my watch."

* * *

The Flash honestly had no idea just how many ground-based Green and Yellow Lanterns he had managed to bowl over during the rather entertaining game of keepaway that he had started up only a fraction of a moment after hitting the ground. The corona of kinetic energy circulating around both he and Zoom forced the shattered rock around them to disintegrate before it could crash into their bodies, the mixture of pressure and velocity too much for even the sturdy stone of America's second largest mountain range. The red-haired speedster was quite happy to discover, as Zoom tried to assert himself with the aid of his speed and time-manipulation abilities, that he didn't have to dig too deeply into his recently expanding bag of tricks in order to defend himself. He found himself silently thanking not only Lloyd for the time he had put into helping him learn something new but also Kara and Stephanie for the effort they put into making sure that the knowledge would stick.

"What do you think of the new moves, Hunty?" Wally taunted as he bobbed and weaved his way through several more dozen frustrated strikes. "I mean, I know that I can't float like a butterfly or sting like a bee just yet but it looks like I've got enough to rope a dope like you."

The two speedsters willingly exchanged a pair of hooks across each other's chins before rushing through the battlefield once again at a speed that only a precious few of the battle's participants could even come close to matching. The exchange was hardly anything new for either of them, the two combatants having gone through the motions over a dozen times before. They were both looking for a true opening, no matter how small because they were well aware that it was that infinitesimal gap that always determined which one of them would emerge the victor. Very few were better at finding that window of time then they were, the both of them having spent over half their lifetimes examining all the tells and miscues of those they came across in order to keep what they cared for safe.

"Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to kill some of these people we're running around right now?" Zoom asked almost casually. "Maybe I should take a split second or two to break Nightwing's spine? Or would you prefer it if I slit the archer's throat just like I did with Bartholomew? It would be a good way for her to die, I imagine. Common interests and all that."

The Flash cut off whatever Zoom had to say with a flying tackle that sent the both of them crashing through a trio of White Martians before careening into a pile of dried mud on the western edge of the combat zone. The viscosity of the dirt did little to interfere with the velocity of their scuffle, the both of them exchanging punches and holds at increasingly dizzying speeds.

"I'd have to say you'd have a hell of a time trying to pull something like that off!" Wally replied. "Because no matter how much you crow about saying you want to make me stronger or how much I can supposedly learn from you, I've always been faster. I've always been better!"

* * *

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, FOOL!" Leokar Kurkosaw bellowed while snapping the spine of a Green Lantern who had been brave and foolish enough to come between him and his quarry. "CAN ANY OF YOU NOT SEE THAT I AM WORKING TO REDEEM AN INJUSTICE?"

"Not to interrupt you while you're on a roll here, Babar," Kurkosaw's target countered with both his words and with a pair of plasma rays that easily worked themselves free from the barrels of his Karbarran energy pistols, "but just which injustice are we talkin' about here? 'Cause let me tell you, I've done a whole lot of proper sinnin' in my time."

Arsenal had little trouble seeing the murderous glare in the eyes of the former prison warden. It was just another reminder that there was no way he was going to win this fight. As potent as the weaponry he had been given by the weapon merchants he helped liberate, the intensity behind the firearms paled in comparison to the power within the ring on Kurkosaw's finger and the determination and lust for fear that fueled it.

"I had hoped that you would keep a hold of the Qwardian power ring that you shamelessly pilfered from my lieutenant," Kurkosaw replied while continually to easily weather everything Roy had to throw at him. "As eager as I am to punish you for your crimes, I would have infinitely preferred to reprimand the clever thief that foiled my intentions on Karbarra instead of the arrogant weakling I see before me."

"Really now?" Roy asked as he continued to pour on his ineffectual attack. "And here I thought you had a fondness for picking on the little ones."

The sharpshooter felt the wind being forcefully removed from his lungs as Kurkosaw all but mashed him into the ground. The shooting pain in his chest and skull only intensified as he felt the Yellow Lantern's heavy hoof press down upon his ribcage, the strength behind the stump of bone and muscle more than enough to keep him still and in agony.

"Even the little ones deserve the right to be punished for their crimes, Roy Harper."

_WHOOOOOM!_

Roy let out a grateful gasp of air as the sight of a jade battering ram washed over him, the bizarrely shaped energy construct carrying Kurkosaw away and into one of the few surrounding hills left to crash into. He didn't feel too bad about not having the time to even thank his rescuer; the young woman far too busy with the task of generating a familiar pair of energy claws that Roy hoped would rend the murdering monster limb from limb.

"Turns out someone heard about you liking to pick on little bears, binky boy," Roy said with a smirk. "And now she wants to see how you stack up against little songbirds."

As was his way, Roy Harper was quick to go looking for another target.

* * *

Hal Jordan barely needed to think about the enormous energy bolt he sent rushing through the small crowd of Manhunters and Yellow Lanterns that moved to take he and his comrades on. Even as he scattered or eliminated another handful of the foes clustering around him, the heir of Abin Sur kept much of his busy mind on focusing upon finding a single, specific target. The persistent interference being broadcast by the several dozen Qwardian energy signatures around him continued to impede his progress as he sent a White Martian screaming to the rocky ground below with the aid of a left jab-right cross combination that sent the alien spinning away from him like an out-of-control top.

_Where are you, old man? _

The conception and production of a round shield that parried away a pair of golden energy spears was all but instinctual to him, just another little thing he had to work his way through to get to what he needed to do.

_There you are._

The veteran Green Lantern nearly tore another Martian in two as he streaked upwards, the eldritch flame coursing around his body leaving off streaks of jade for the other combatants to see. He wasn't surprised in the least to see that he had been waiting for him, that familiar, imperious glare staring back at him as he came to a stop. He had wanted to wipe that look off the old man's face from the first day he laid eyes on it. Back then it was nothing but a silent challenge, an entreaty for him to push harder and become better at what he had been called to do.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, Hal Jordan knew the sentiment still rang true as Sinestro stood ready to take him on once again.

* * *

_You shouldn't have decided to stand still, tinker toy._

The Manhunter had stopped moving for slightly less than two seconds, just long enough for the automaton to attempt to draw a bead on Cassandra Cain. That was just long enough for Cecilia to properly line up her shot, the feathers glued to the arrow's shaft giving her ear that familiar tickle before she let it fly. The archer barely cracked a smile as her shot seared its way through the sky, the diamond-head tip of her weapon piercing the back of the android's neck nearly 200 feet away. Just as she expected, the damage done to the robot's central processing system connections was enough to send it tumbling down to the ground in an ungainly spiral.

"Not much of a fan of those Manhunters are ya, kiddo?" asked the man who had apparently put it upon himself to watch her back. The customized revolvers mounted on Deadshot's wrists were spewing out tempered heat rounds designed to cause maximum damage to both the Manhunters as well as the telepaths clustering the ground around them. "Hell of a shot there, by the way."

Cecilia took no time to respond to the compliment, the young woman choosing to devote her time to setting an incendiary arrow to the string before letting it fly at a pair of White Martians that were attempting to crush Victor Fries within his own armor. As occupied as she was though, the fair-haired archer couldn't help but notice that there was a hint of respect in the assassin's voice, a far cry from the sarcastic, occasionally sexist commentary that Floyd Lawton chose to share with her in missions past.

"Speakin' of which," Lawton went on, the older mercenary obviously much less concerned about losing his concentration. "When you gonna let that old lady's buddies fix up that scar of yours? I mean, I can't see you getting on the Justice League with somethin' like that on your mug."

Once again, the former Young Justice member couldn't respond as soon as she would have liked. Having to send a steel-tip arrow through the left kneecap of an occupied Yellow Lantern can do that, after all. Not even bothering to shut out the anguished howl coming from her latest target, she just stretched one hand into her quiver and one eye into finding who she could hit next.

"Right now, I'm considering this little scratch of mine to be a source of inspiration."

* * *

The two of them had known each other long enough to know their respective roles. As bizarre a show as this had come to be and no matter how many twists and turns there were to be endured, Hal Jordan and Sinestro were far too connected to not be confident about what the other would do. They had both been students, teachers, partners, rivals, the last thing they could rely on to save themselves and the only thing in the other's way of achieving everything their heart desired and this growing amalgamation, just as it had so many times before, came together again as they traded punches 25,000 feet above the ground.

"I suppose it would be too late for me to say that you're not the one I'm looking for," Sinestro began, his sneer resurfacing as he caught his former student's left fist within his sturdy grip.

"That may be so," Hal fired while using his right leg to parry a knee strike aimed straight for the center of his abdomen, "but I'm the one you're getting because I'm tired of going through this time and time again."

Sinestro found himself chuckling as he recognized the familiar threat. Despite what his former student would seem to want him to believe, it was hardly as if this was an unusual turn of events. The stiffness he felt in his neck whenever a cold gust of wind hit him in just the right way was proof enough of the severity of their past actions. Of course, the hero of the Qwardian people had a somewhat novel trick up his sleeve as well and, just like Hal, he was quick to reveal it. Reaching for a side scabbard as he swerved around a right hook that Hal had sent his way, he plunged his high-frequency vibration blade into the Justice Leaguer's right shoulder blade. The purple-skinned soldier did his best not to take too much happiness out of the surprised grunt that he pulled from his former student's lips or the spurt of blood that suddenly poured from Hal's back.

"I always knew your confidence would be the death of you," the Yellow Lantern whispered as he yanked his blade free from its temporary resting place. The downward thrust that would put an end to Hal's interference was strong, fast, and ultimately halted by a frighteningly accurate bolt of energy that burned into the left side of the Qwardian's chest and forced him to drop what he hoped to be the instrument of his old student's demise.

"Hey! Dandy boy!" snarled out Guy Gardner, the hot-headed hero racing upward with his still brimming ring at the forefront. "How's about takin' me on?!"

Sinestro countered by weaving his way around the football-style kick that the mop-topped warrior chose to throw his way. Twisting around the Green Lantern's right leg, the former Green Lantern commander took a firm hold of Gardner's one, remaining arm, the long fingers on his right hand quickly wrapping around the Earthling's wrist while his left hand took a hold of the man's elbow.

"Gladly!" the Yellow Lantern exclaimed before snapping his foe's arm like a dry twig. The loud _craaaaack _of bone scratching and then snapping against bone was quick to compete with the anguished gurgle from Guy's lips as Sinestro moved quickly towards his victim's neck. However, his attempt to put an end to one of his longtime nemeses would once again be denied as a spectral construct of an enormous boxing glove collided with the left side of his head. The impact between jade energy and wine-colored flesh momentarily stunned the stalwart warrior as he was unwilling hurtled backwards, away from his prey.

As eager as he was to scrap before, Guy Gardner had to admit that, for the moment, he was happy to see Sinestro go. Of course, that conversely left him with some unwanted time to spend with his uninvited rescuer.

"Looks like we're even again," Hal began with a hint of a smirk, the elder Lantern well aware of just how much the gesture would piss Guy off.

Guy didn't even bother to snarl, the former Baltimore native well aware that it would only make the situation worse.

"Don't remind me."

"You know, I really don't like you."

"Izzat right?" Guy asked while finally honoring his fellow Green Lantern with a glance. "'Cause I'm just all atwitter about how you feel about me."

"Fair enough," Hal acquiesced. "But that guy over there? We really don't like him."

"Nope. No, we don't."

"Shall we then?"

"After me, hero," Guy declared as his ring finished creating a cast that restrained the shattered remains of his left arm.

The two Green Lanterns then charged at their mutual enemy. The overlord of Qward, now armed with a pair of golden energy blades, stood waiting for them to arrive.

* * *

Nigel just couldn't believe that he had forgotten just how well his former students could work together.

Lloyd and Scandal had been quick to lead the forward thrust of the ground-based unit, the two former partners once again combining their respective talents to raise a great deal of havoc. Mao had once said that the two of them were perhaps the greatest example of a "point man-wing man" duo that he had ever seen. Nigel kept one eye on The Black Dog as he tried to prove Mao's theory, the young man appearing to happily wade his way through the nastiest the opposition had to provide while laying the groundwork for those who followed him. Yellow Lanterns fell to the wicked lashes of his gleaming silver saber, White Martians were incinerated or blown backward by a combination of telekinesis and eldritch energy blasts while determined Manhunters were repulsed, shattered or smashed by a vicious combination of the two. Whatever mess left behind by the half-demon was, of course, eagerly swept up by Scandal's quick and messy work with her lamentation blades, her claws quick to dig through the flesh and metal of anything that hadn't stayed down after her little brother had finished playing with his newfound toys.

Of course, there was no way that the two of them could have possibly done as much damage as they were doing without the aid of a healthy helping of interference and distraction measures. Thankfully, this was something that Dick Grayson was able to provide in spades. The vigilante's liberal use of chaff grenades, flash bombs, and solid strikes from not only the escrima sticks clutched in his hands but also from his educated feet gave his two stronger compatriots much more reign to do what they pleased. In return, both Lloyd and Scandal had made certain to protect their precious little irritator, the both of them employing their superior physical skills and constitution to defend the former acrobat and thus keep the team firing on all of its figurative cylinders.

And, lest he forget about his own exploits, the swarthy Brit thought that he had done his fair share of shouldering the burden as well. His busy work with his hatchet was quick to help convince those who attacked the youngsters alongside him of the foolishness of their decision.

"Can't help but notice that you blokes 'r rather close-lipped today," he roared as a horizontal swing of his ax prompted a Sinestro Corps member to take to the sky instead of risk losing a variety of important limbs.

"Well, given your rather bawdy rendition of 'Another Brick in the Wall' that you started up the moment we got down here," Scandal quickly fired back despite being busy with the task of removing her left claw from a Manhunter's chest cavity, "I'm guessing we all figured that you were making enough noise for all of us."

Employing a left cross block with her blades in order to send a Yellow Lantern stumbling into her little brother's waiting saber, the leader of the Secret Six quickly cast her eyes on the perverted leer sported by the misanthropic telepath just thirty yards away. Sending a silent, telepathic command to Lloyd informing him that she was going for their prize, she quickly broke into a run in order to close the distance, the youthful immortal looking quite forward to exacting revenge for all the hell that Doctor Psycho had put both her and nearly every one she cared for through. To his credit, the diminutive murderer didn't even back away from her determined rush or the dangerous sneer that accompanied it, as if all the hostile gestures only served to inspire the monster's confidence.

"Well, well, if it isn't Vandal Savage's baby girl," Psycho declared without even losing his grin. "Don't suppose you're here to take up your father's recommendation that I put a bun in your oven, are ya? I mean, I gotta say that I'm a little busy right now but I think I can pencil in some personal time with you sometime next week."

The leader of The Secret Six was less than five feet away from her target before Edgar Cizko lost his playful sneer, his brow furrowing in concentration as he brought his impressive power to bear. The strength of the little man's telepathy, despite the interference provided by Checkmate's neural dampeners, was quick in stopping Scandal's movements. The auburn-haired mercenary fought with everything she could muster, wrapping what remained of her independent thoughts around the need to get the job done, but that didn't stop her from falling to her knees. The rocky ground at her feet scraped against the roof of the kneepads within her battle armor, the thin skin around her patellae scratching in irritation.

"Always have to appreciate a pretty lady willing to get right down on her knees," Psycho declared in his usual, lascivious manner. "Of course, I can think of a few better positions for_urrgh_. . ."

It was Scandal's turn to smile as she dug the claw strapped to her right hand straight into Cizko's gut. Relishing in the surprised grunt that stumbled from her target's lips, she used her left hand to grab a hold of the telepath's wild, black hair before yanking Cizko's head back just so she could see the shock on the monster's face as the life drained out of him.

"Sorry, freak," she answered with a sneer of her own. "But I'm not interested in seeing other people."

The startled expression on Cizko's pale face stayed for a few seconds more before it seemed to shift into something else.

"SCANDAL! GET OUTTA THERE!" Scandal heard The Black Dog shout despite the sudden dwindling of her senses. "IT'S A TRAP!!"

The leader and businesswoman could feel the hand wrapping around her neck as she felt cold metal sliding into her chest and piercing her heart. She had enough of her faculties to know that the force behind the grip and the strike was far too strong to come from the undersized mind invader. She did her best to keep her claw buried in the man's gut as he continued his transformation, her dimming, green eyes paying close attention as limbs became longer, the skin tone became lighter and more pallid, and the pained countenance twisted itself into a familiar hunter's grin.

"I'm sorry, old friend," Vincent informed his fellow former follower of Mao Tenryu, "but I believe you have me confused with someone else."

* * *

The Silver Coyote had gone to great lengths to make certain that the next series of events would go according to plan. For example, he had put a great deal of care into the telepathic signal he employed in order to arrange a half-dozen White Martians to prevent Lloyd from making any unwanted rescue attempts, the wave of pale flesh and muscle keeping The Black Dog from interfering from the task at hand. Of course, he also made certain to leave room for a bit of healthy improvisation, the freedom allowing him to take a great bit of joy in forcefully hurling Scandal into a nearby rock formation before moving to take on the advancing Nigel Thornton. Planning quickly mixed with instinct as he parried the old man's opening slash before using his telepathy to send the corpulent warrior flying away from him and into a cluster of clashing Green and Yellow Lanterns.

He had to confess to himself that he didn't see the next attacker coming, a misstep that forced out a grunt of displeasure as Nightwing brought both of his escrima sticks down onto his right wrist. The precise, two-handed strike came at a perfect angle, the tempered steel crashing into the upper end of his radius and forcing him to drop his blood-soaked switchblade. Of course, the slight error in judgment was easily remedied as he used his left hand to stave off the vigilante's next series of strikes before employing his hastily healed right hand to grab a hold of Grayson's right leg.

"Why did you even bother?" he unnecessarily asked before sending Nightwing straight into a nearby foothill at a speed that would most certainly kill his all-too-human victim. The silver-haired leader of The Sinestro Corps was only mildly disappointed upon seeing Scandal leap into Grayson's flight path. The collision of flesh-on-flesh surely saved the detective's life but Scandal's subsequent impact with the craggy bluff was enough to knock out both her and the man she had put so much trouble into saving.

Then he felt his back explode as a streak of red and green crashed into him from his blindside. His ears were assaulted by an almost bestial roar as he felt his latest opponent tear into him with fists and the spikes festooned upon the warrior woman's gauntlets. It only took a second or two for him to recover from the initial charge and the furious strikes that followed, the flow of blood spilling down from the healing hole in his gut almost comforting as he teleported in order to put his feet back on solid ground.

"So you hide your presence like a rank coward, do you? You attack my comrades and the woman who cares for my heart?" Knockout asked angrily, the former Fury's assault momentarily taxing his defenses. "I shall have your head for that."

A small smidgen of telekinesis was all that was required for him to remove his treasured katana from the scabbard strapped to his back. The smooth sensation of the snakeskin grip sliding across his gloved hand served as a familiar comfort while he avoided a stiff, right haymaker before hammering the hilt of his long blade into Knockout's occipital ridge. Although the impact would not be enough to overcome the Apokoliptian's impressive constitution, the combination of a quick teleportation to the woman's front and a forward thrust of his katana was more than enough to silence the woman's noisy declarations. He took a moment to note the sight of his long blade thrust clean through his victim's back, relishing the accomplishment of a job well done before moving to take in the anger and passion in the eyes of the scarlet-haired combatant.

"Looks like your heart didn't do you a great deal of good," he pointed out as a trickle of bright, red blood spilled from Knockout's lips.

* * *

Some quick work with his saber bought Lloyd just enough time to catch the sight of Kay Reynolds' body sliding against the craggy rock before coming to a stop at his feet. Lloyd was quite to shift his sights from one horrifying sight to the other, looking up to see his oldest friend casually drop the woman's head down to the ground as if his grisly deed no longer merited his attention. A desperate, instinctual path of his thoughts prompted him to look back down, his eyes drinking in the sight of the few strands of rich, red hair that caressed the woman's broad shoulders. His memories of ragged sobs and hot tears from so many years ago suddenly flooded his senses while the rest of him worked to regain the rest of his wits.

But the voice was there all the same.

_You've failed again, fool_. _Another person you were responsible for is gone and there's __**nothing you can do about it**__!_

"We're done here," Lloyd dimly heard his old friend declare before a wave of upward motion wafted across his eardrums. He didn't need to look up to know that the battle was done or that what remained of Vincent's forces had taken to the sky. He knew that he should have done what he could to prevent the monsters from running away but he just couldn't find the energy to do so. All he could do was look down while thinking of what to say when Victor Fries asked if they should pursue.

"No," he said hollowly. "We're done."

* * *

Despite the situation at hand, Kara almost felt the urge to smile as she watched Stephanie twist herself into a tight, upward climb, the young Green Lantern pulling up in order to safely land just a foot or two to her right. Although she could see a smattering of cuts and bruises on the exposed parts of Robin's face and some scorch marks on her friend's battle armor, Kara was fairly confident that her friend was hale and hearty.

In any case, the sight of her first true friend remained a great deal easier on the eyes than what she had been watching. Floyd Lawton, of all people, was doing what little he could to comfort his grieving boss and friend. It hurt Kara's heart to see that much pain on another person's face and the sound of jagged sobs and uncertain words did nothing but burn at her gut.

"Awwww, damn," Robin groaned, the sound prompting Kara to gladly turn her eyes away once again. "I really liked her."

Kara nodded, the gesture less a display of agreement and more of a desire to just think about something else. _Anything _else.

"How did your fight with that Kurkosaw guy go?"

Stephanie began her commentary with an ungainly snort. "Ah, he took off before it got any good. Y'know, I never thought that a giant elephant. . . thing could move so fast."

"Is that right?" asked Kara, her interest in the conversation already starting to drift.

"Y'know, I thought I had a good idea when I used my ring to create a giant, green mouse," Robin went on, the elder soldier unwilling to let the idle chatter die so easily. "It was nothing doin' though."

"Uh huh," Stephanie heard the former Supergirl reply, the rapid response finally prompting the blonde-haired Gothamite to zip her lip. This, of course, left her with more than enough time to see just what had drawn her friend's surprise. Lloyd was making his way back towards the sad scene, the expression on his face a conflicted mess of confidence, uncertainty, determination, and sadness as he slowly approached Scandal's back. Stephanie let out an unsteady frown as she took in the momentary quivering of her friend's hands, the small, strong bits of bone, muscle, and skin appearing as if they had to will themselves into moving upward in order to grasp and graze the woman's slight, heaving shoulders.

"I'm. . . I'm sorry," Steph heard Lloyd almost mumble. "_I'm so sorry_."

Kara's sudden gasp was nearly drowned out by the strangled scream that Scandal offered in reply to Lloyd's apology, the grieving woman quickly ripping herself free from Deadshot's hold on her. The glint in the immortal's eyes was vicious and raw as she moved forward with her claws at the forefront. Steph felt herself close her eyes when she realized that her big brother was making no effort to avoid what was to come, the sharp edges of Scandal's lamentation blades quickly punching through The Black Dog's chest and tearing through his upper torso.

"YOU'VE TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM ME!! EVERYTHING!! YOU CHANGED MAO INTO A MONSTER, YOU'VE MADE ME AN OUTCAST BECAUSE YOU FORCED ME TO CARE AND NOW SHE'S _GONE_! YOU TWO, LITTLE _MONSTERS_! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU DESERVE ALL OF THE ATTENTION?! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE AWAY WHAT I'VE WORKED SO HARD TO HAVE?"

Kara Zor-el knew all there was to know about how emotions could get the better of the best of us. This wasn't to say that neither she nor Scandal Savage could be considered the best of anything but the fact remained that the half-Kryptonian was well aware of what one could stoop to while in the throes of anger and loss. She also knew of the damages behind such actions, reparations that were clearly etched upon Scandal's face as she realized what she had done. She hastily removed her claws from her little brother's chest, her exotic, jade eyes wide with fright and horror.

"Oh. Oh, Lloyd," Kara heard Scandal whisper, the tone as gentle and heart wrenching as she had ever heard from anyone. "_I'm so sorry_. I didn't mean any of it. . ."

But Lloyd had already disappeared. Kara was quick to shut her eyes tight, determined not to see Scandal bringing her hands up to her mouth as more and more of reality began to sink into Lloyd's old friend. It was enough that she had to deal with the pangs of her own regret.

_Why couldn't she just tell him everything? _

_Why didn't she try to stop it? _

_Why did she always have to be afraid?_

The feeling of a pair of gauntlet-covered hands gripping her shoulders felt dim but still surprisingly clear.

"Go find him."

Kara opened her watery eyes in order to look at Stephanie, her senses drinking in the sad but sure countenance on Robin's face.

"Please bring my big brother back to me. He needs you, Kare Bear. For so long he's made it clear that he doesn't need anyone else right now except you."

Try as she might, The Last Daughter of Krypton couldn't help but feel a spark of hope in all the uncertainty.

"Please, Miss Zor-el."

Kara shifted her neck sharply to the left, her eyes quickly taking in the tear tracks on Scandal's face. She felt her heart give out a sympathetic twinge as the leader of The Secret Six forced herself through a hearty sniff in order to keep up her confidence.

"None of us have any idea just how long we truly have," Scandal said softly but surely. "We don't know how much time we'll have with the people we truly care for. Don't waste any more of it."

A small part of Kara was just a bit angry about the fact that she couldn't seem to move just yet, her lips just slightly ajar with words she couldn't even think to say. She needed a moment to swallow back a bit of whatever was lodged in the back of her throat before she took flight, her mind and her heart telling her just where she needed to go. The sounds of Scandal's frayed sobs and the calm, soothing words of Thomas Blake being whispered into the grieving woman's ear only pushed her forward now. All sorts of voices were screaming at her to stop, to think about what she was putting at risk and to reconsider.

For once, she was determined not to listen.

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

Lloyd knew that Mao would have chastised him for teleporting several thousand miles with six holes in his chest and two holes in his heart. After all, matter displacement and rapidly healing flesh, as his late mentor seemed to be so happy to warn him about time and time again, was usually a dangerous combination to work with and should have been avoided if you lacked the time and concentration to make the trip as safe as possible.

Too bad he wasn't really up for concentrating right now. Too many other thoughts were busy running through his head. Each painful memory flashed through his mind like a perverted picture show, the scene and the accompanying dialogue seeming to change with every beat of his wounded heart.

Thump.

_I'm goin' on a trip, kiddo. There's no need to worry about it._

Thump.

_Look at him! Not even his da wanted him anymore! That's why he ran off!_

Thump.

_I'm home, mum! Mum, I'm home!_

Thump.

_You're coming with us, kid._

Thump.

_I'll get you out of here, little one. I promise that, someday, you'll be safe._

Thump.

_Let me help you shine_.

Thump.

_Ya can't always expect others to sit there and be waitin' on ya, guv. We've all got our own stuff to deal with. _

Thump.

_You've always made me proud, my boy._

Thump.

_YOU TWO LITTLE MONSTERS!!_

Thump.

_We'll always be there for each other, Lloyd. Brothers and friends. Always._

"GO AWAY!" he screamed at the sound of the familiar swoosh and foot fall that he had been so stupid to want to hear in the past. "I'm tired of people hurting me! Lying to me! I want to be alone."

"No, you don't," Kara countered, the strength in her voice wavering for only a hint as Lloyd turned his hazel eyes upon her. She once again felt herself starting to dither as The Black Dog began stalking towards her but she managed to stay strong. "That's a lie because there's no way that I could've found you if you didn't want to be found."

"Then get away from me before you get hurt!" Lloyd fired back through gritted teeth, his anxious thoughts abandoning his previous logic as quickly as he had constructed it. "'Cause that's all my life leads me to, pet. Just lies and hurt and. . ."

"Will you listen to yourself?" Kara almost screeched. "Don't start acting like you're the only one who ever gets hurt. It happens to everyone, especially when it's not even our fault!"

Lloyd suddenly found himself looking about 10 feet to the left of his former home, his eyes taking in the shattered tubing that, for six years, had housed a boy that had done so much damage, harm and hurt.

"There was so many times I could have just let him die. When we first escaped from here. That time in Shanghai with the necromancers. In Manvers. When he hurt you. . ."

Kara moved forward to wrap her arms around Lloyd, to comfort him just as he had tried to do when she was struggling to put her mind back together again. Just as quickly as she thought to do it, however, she found herself being pushed back by Lloyd's small hands. It was a response that was both physical and psychological, the walls around the man's heart seemingly being constructed once again before her very eyes.

"Just go away," Lloyd whispered. "'Cause the only things that could happen if you stay is either I'll hurt you or you'll hurt me and. . . and I don't want to deal with either one of those options."

"Yeah, well you don't get that option," Kara snapped back stubbornly, the harsh tone in her voice prompting Lloyd to look straight back at her. "You don't get to shut me out because you're not the only one who has a say in all of this."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Lloyd roared.

"AND WHAT'LL YOU DO IF I DON'T!" Kara snarled back, her lips just inches from Lloyd's. "Hit me? Maybe just take that nice, pointy sword of yours and run me through so you don't have to deal with any of this anymore?"

Lloyd pulled backward, his eyes running wide and scared with even the thought of such a response.

Happy that she was right, that she could see the innocence in his eyes, Kara tenderly moved her arms higher in order to clamp her hands around Lloyd's shoulders.

"You won't. 'Cause that's the easy way."

Nervous as she was, Kara made sure that neither she nor Lloyd would waste any more words or motions, her strong hands pushing forward in order to bring Lloyd's lips to her own.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well. . . How soap operay was that? In my defense, I've been writing that last scene in my head for about a year-and-a-half (just like so much of what I've had to put down in this story for the last month or so), so I hope you can all understand any bit of performance anxiety on my part.

Speaking of anxiety, remind me to never try and publish two issues of this thing in three weeks while working a 60-hour work week. Come to think of it, this is partially the fault of all of you, my faithful readers and reviewers. If it wasn't for all of your support and kind words then I wouldn't feel so compelled to work through this labor of love so obsessively. Yeah! It's all your fault. . .

Ah, who am I kidding?

As always, thanks to all of you who keep on reading and reviewing. I'd like to offer a bit of gossip about the world of comic books but, quite frankly, my absolute lack of spare time leaves me with little or no time to peruse the lighter side of fiction. That being said, I think I can work up the energy to give you guys a next issue preview.

'Cause I really like you.

* * *

_Issue #74 Preview_

Well, as Earth's two most powerful warriors swap spit and trade secrets, the rest of the good guys are heading home to lick their wounds. What will happen when Alfred Pennyworth is stuck with the task of feeding hundreds of angry killers? What new revelation may cause The Flash to dip into Noah's supply of antidepressants and just how did Knockout ever find out about that poster of her in Superboy's bedroom? All this and Vincent's final request in the next installment of The Misfits: Tactful and Tactical Observations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	74. Tactful and Tactical Observations

* * *

Issue #74

Tactful and Tactical Observations

_The Batcave_

Rare indeed were the days when Talia Al-Ghul would have chosen to be somewhere other than the home of her beloved. In fact, it was her desire to remain within this vast and cozy domicile, a home so far away from the ornate palaces or hastily constructed military bunkers or ravaged factory districts that she had forced herself to remain within thanks to the influences of her late father, that had long been the greatest source of her frustration. She had known for a good, long while that the boundaries between her and Bruce would be next to impossible to ever overcome, the long-standing truth a portion of her life that both intrigued and infuriated her.

Of course, that didn't answer the question of why she chose to remain here throughout these times of troubles when her beloved was no longer here to be impressed. Did she truly care enough about the world to help keep it standing while remaining in the one place where it would most likely fall apart? Was this the kind of person she had become? The daughter of Ra's Al-Ghul was quick to discover that she didn't quite have the answers to those questions and it was that realization, on top of everything else that life had asked her to endure, that was currently doing a fine job of cheesing her off.

She made certain to pay little attention to the two pairs of eyes upon her as she slumped into the computer chair beneath her, the distinct glow emanating from the trio of Crays only serving to scratch at her tired, drooping eyes. After all she had endured, the head of the League of Assassins was now convinced that she had earned the right to take on her next task whenever she felt like facing it, thank you very much. And, yes, she knew that bit of attitude was just a byproduct of a lifetime of being catered to nearly every one of her whims but she was willing to overlook that particular psychological insight.

"Would this 'gypsy' be overstepping his bounds if he asked how you're holding up?"

Talia let out a groan as she tenderly rubbed her temples with her fingers. "How in the name of all that is decent can you live like this, Richard?" she asked, her physical exhaustion causing her exotic brogue to grow even thicker. "I have not slept in nearly two days and I have not managed to get any more than five hours of sleep at a time over the course of the last two months."

Talia watched tiredly as Nightwing crossed his arms over his chest, the gesture somehow almost as infuriating as her beloved's little smirk.

"Well, if you're worried about your fair features falling apart then I suppose I can have somebody fetch you a Lazarus Pit," Dick replied while looking up to the roof of the cave with mocking thoughtfulness. "Just point me the way and I'll have Robin get one of Alfred's Kool-Aid pitches and you'll have your makeover in no time flat."

The Daughter of The Demon's Head ignored the half-playful jab and continued pressing forward with what she thought to be rather sound logic. "Just how are you capable of doing this? Going on night after night after night while maintaining a schedule that flies against all the laws of proper human physiology?"

"It's all about physical and psychological conditioning," Nightwing said rather seriously, a clear note of pride in the vigilante's voice as he unveiled one of his many secrets. "Batman and I have both long adhered to the practice of prompting our bodies to overcome the boundaries we willingly place on them. By slowly expanding our abilities, day after day after day, we can become more than what we could ever conceive ourselves of being."

"I attribute it all to coffee," added Noah Kuttler, the computer expert punctuating his point by sipping the rich, invigorating imported blends that the expansive manor had in its healthy stocks. The bespectacled hacker followed this with a hearty sniff of the delicious contents within his "World's No. 1 Computer Geek" coffee cup, a gift from Lloyd and Steph for his 40th birthday. He found he had to blink several times to bat away the steam wafting through the narrow gap between his eyes and his spectacles but he still enjoyed the sensation on the whole. "Goodness knows I would have died of fatigue months ago if it was not for the Peruvian majesty before me."

Talia considered both arguments while watching Nightwing shake his head back and forth in half-hearted disgust. "My apologies, Richard, but I find your colleague's explanation to be a lot more plausible," she decreed amidst Nightwing's disgusted groan. "And now that I have arranged proper medical care for those wounded during the previous battle, is it possible that the both of you have managed to collect the final tally?"

"Twenty-nine dead and an additional 32 wounded," Noah reported with an understandable degree of sedateness. "Perhaps not the most encouraging of numbers. . ."

"But still a great deal better than what it could have been," Talia calmly concluded, her unruffled candor spawning little irritation from the man she had been so quick to interrupt. "And I presume that The Silver Coyote's army suffered similar losses?"

"Maybe a bit steeper judging from the visual evidence," Nightwing answered. "Of course, a dozen or so extra casualties doesn't take much away from the fact that they've got the distinct advantage in power and numbers. The fact remains that the ball is still in The Silver Coyote's court and he's proven that he's smart enough to realize that."

"Which means that we are now even more dependent upon this Green Lantern Corps and their attempt to destroy the Qwardian power battery," Talia interjected once again. "Have we received any communications from them during my absence?"

"Indeed we have and from no less than Ganthet himself," Noah began, his memories of the discussion with the celestial guardian, the creature largely responsible for the survival and later rebirth of the Green Lantern Corps, still quite fresh in his fatigued thoughts. "It is estimated that Kilowog and his forces will be ready to attack Qward in less than two hours."

"There is no possible way that our enemies will not recognize this," Talia sourly pointed out while watching Nightwing move from one side of the terminal to the other, the exotic beauty paying close attention as the former acrobat's right thumb slid across the stubble on his chin. "So are we presuming that The Silver Coyote will attempt to counter by making his move upon this front?"

"There really isn't any other way to see it," Nightwing confessed while coming to a stop once again. "He no longer has any reason to play the waiting game. He already made his message with Superman and a good majority of the superhero community here on Earth and he's got almost half of the galaxy's most powerful army bearing down on one of his principal sources of power."

"There is little information to be had regarding the specifics of Qward's defenses," Noah threw in, the hacker's voice reflecting more than a hint of frustrated peevishness. "Perhaps there may be some way that we can help even the odds on this end in order to better combat any unpleasant surprises that may occur halfway across the galaxy."

Nightwing sighed, his facial muscles twisting into a familiar frown as he turned to watch his father's oldest friend begin to instinctively move to clean his glasses.

"I still do not understand why we do not make any effort to break the blockade around Themyscira. . ."

"The Amazons are capable of handling themselves," Nightwing snapped, the quick rejoinder reminding Talia that the two gentlemen had been through this particular tussle many times before. "The amount of effort and energy we would need to free Themyscira, let alone to bring the place up and running to the point where the island could be an offensive front, would only lead to hundreds, maybe thousands of casualties that we can't afford to suffer."

Talia raised her eyebrows as Noah placed his glasses back upon the bridge of his nose while Nightwing moved several steps toward his comrade.

"Noah, the last time we made a blind rush at these guys they nearly took over the damn planet in one fell swoop. Now we have one shot, one single, solitary shot at breaking The Silver Coyote's hold over this battlefield and I'm not about to have us waste that opportunity on a misguided, Samaritan effort!"

Ra's Al-Ghul's daughter observed the two quarreling gentlemen, soon finding that she could draw nearly just as much interest in the harsh breath that leaked from Grayson's lips as she did in the impulsive grimace on Noah's usually impassive countenance, a tight-lipped response that faded nearly as quickly as it had appeared. "I must say, Richard," she broke in with an alluring hum. "I am finding your utter, professional heartlessness to be quite impressive. I dare say that Bruce would be quite proud of you."

Dick swerved around to glare at his longtime nemesis, the 28-year-old commander resisting the urge to grit his teeth upon seeing that Talia wasn't the least bit perturbed about the fact that his attention was now on her. It took a moment or two to realize that his emotions were starting to get the better of him, far too long of a time to stop the words at his lips to form into being before his brain had the time to take a look at them. Fortunately, a smooth but firm grasp on his left shoulder silenced him.

"You are doing what you believe is right in order to ensure the safety of the world," Talia said sincerely, her long fingers rubbing into Nightwing's shoulder blades. "That is the mark of every great leader and a great deal of my heart hopes that your father will be able to see your strength. See how proudly you follow his example."

As damning as he thought it to be, Dick Grayson found himself at least mildly appeased by the woman's words. However, as was her way, she then attempted to ruin things by taking it one step further.

"And we would be a great deal more fortunate if our other leader behaved with such emotional maturity."

Nightwing let out another sigh while rubbing the tip of his tongue against his upper lip, the stretching of muscles serving as his way of clearing the last vestiges of anger from his thoughts.

"Lloyd's going through a lot right now. He thinks he's responsible for a lot of the things that Vincent has done and I can't imagine that the best way for him to recover was for his big sister to call him a monster after stabbing him in the chest six times."

"Is that right?" Talia asked, the question soon followed up by a chuckle that threatened, but failed, to once again inflame Dick's anger. "I should have guessed that your compassionate nature would resurface sooner rather than later."

"It's my curse," Nightwing replied with his own rendition of a familiar half-smirk.

Bruce's former lover let loose with a mild chuckle while she placed her hands on her hips. "Well, if you care so much for his well-being," she countered, "then why not go look for him yourself?"

Nightwing's smirk quickly grew into a genuine smile.

"I'm thinking that Lloyd would rather have his problems in someone else's hands."

* * *

_The Monster Farm_

Kara and Lloyd's first kiss was hardly the most organized of endeavors. In fact, the combination of the former's rushed movements and the latter's unpreparedness resulted in the two of them all but colliding together, their teeth clacking together in a manner that kept them apart for just a little bit longer. A cut on Lloyd's upper lip, a quickly healing scar caused by a close shave with an angry White Martian, was reopened by Kara's teeth and began to leak a droplet or two of blood before the nick could fully heal. The half-Kryptonian's enhanced senses could pick up the coppery tinge slowly sliding down her throat but the bizarre taste did little to put a damper on her resolve.

No further prompting was needed in order for the two of them to give it another shot, the shared urge to explore whatever was going on more than enough to spur them forward. Neither one of them knew the way they liked to be kissed or where they should have put their hands or the other hundreds of other things, big and small, that was wrapped within this simple motion but the both of them found that they were more than happy to find out what worked for them and what didn't. To his credit, at least Lloyd somehow remembered to put top lip on top lip and bottom on bottom through everything else there was to be felt. There was the distracting scents of sweat and the soap Kara liked to use, the soft touch of her lips, the well-wanted sliding sensation of her tongue sliding against his, and the disturbingly pleasing feelings drawn from Kara's hands as they slid across his chest, his hair, his jaw line, his abdomen, his any damn spot she wanted to grab a hold of because it all felt quite nice.

Of course, Lloyd wasn't the only one who had their share of distractions to deal with in all of this. Kara found herself having to hold back the urge to shudder as she felt Lloyd's small fingers slide across the back of her neck, her cheeks, her lower back. A small part of her mind was a little disappointed that she couldn't feel electric sparks or butterflies in the stomach or some kind of soulful blaze that seemed to always exist in the movies or the trashy paperbacks that populated Stephanie's bookcase. However, the vast majority of her couldn't help but appreciate feeling warm. Calm. She could feel her heartbeat begin to run slow and steady as Lloyd held her closer, his thin, slender arms wrapping around her back and shoulders in an effort to bring her body as close to him as it could be.

Then she realized that Lloyd wasn't quite as calm. His breathing was still hitched. She could see the sadness in his eyes and feel the wet warmth of his blood leaking from the apertures of his chest and she knew she had more important things to do. Overcoming the need to feel his lips on hers again, Kara rested her forehead against Lloyd's, her eyes keeping straight and steady on the stormy, gray-green orbs that had caught her attention long before this.

"Breathe with me," she whispered, her hands caressing and then grasping Lloyd's cheeks. She could feel the air flowing from her lungs as she showed Lloyd what to do, her fingers pressing against his soft cheekbones. "Take all the time you need." Another breath. Another breath. "I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't long at all before the two of them began to move together, their foreheads slumped against each other as they slowly rose up and down. Lloyd surprised the both of them by being the first to break away from the serenity, his nose rubbing against Kara's as he lowered his chin down onto her left shoulder. Kara was quick to follow suit, the young woman sighing into Lloyd's left clavicle while she wrapped her arms tightly around his back.

"I was so afraid of losing this," Lloyd confessed softly, his nose burying itself into the crook of Kara's neck. "Losing everything that could have come from all of this. I've already lost so much. . ."

"I have too," Kara said firmly, the half-Kryptonian suddenly determined to show the man in her arms just how strong he could be. It was a daunting task to be sure but Lloyd's close proximity seemed to make the task look a great deal easier. "And, just like you, some of it was nobody's fault but my own."

"No," Lloyd said sharply as he pulled away for a fraction. "No, it wasn't your fault. Your dad and Darkseid and. . ."

"I think it's safe to say that we've both made a lot of bad mistakes in our lives, Lloyd," Kara interrupted once again, the look in her crystalline blue eyes as sure as the firm tone of her voice. "Neither one of us are perfect and both of us are probably always going to be just a little bit messed up but. . . But. . ."

The childlike curiosity etched all over Lloyd's face caused Kara's courage to waver for just a moment. She took a look at the gap that suddenly loomed in front of her, that expansive space between her and what she had been looking at for nearly two years now. She wrapped her long fingers around Lloyd's wrists, squeezing the skin and bone softly as she resisted the urge to shut her eyes tight.

"But. . . I think I'd really like seeing if we could be messed up together."

Now it was Lloyd's turn to pull Kara towards him, his lips eagerly seeking hers. As much as he didn't want to go for only what he wanted that impulsive part of him was just too strong to overcome. He knew how quickly he was ripping his armor away, knew how wide open he had left such a tender part of himself.

"He made me think that it was you that hurt me."

Kara's words snapped Lloyd out of his troubled thoughts, his busy mind needing to take a moment or two to piece together the puzzle that had been placed in front of him.

"Vincent."

The quick, anxious nod that served as Kara's response caused a hot flame of anger to run through Lloyd's gut. He needed a moment to talk that part of him down, his mind realizing that rage wasn't what was needed right now. He didn't even know how he knew that but the realization was there nevertheless.

"When he was. . . cutting into me," Kara continued, her voice soft but barely wavering. "He twisted my mind around to make me think. . . I saw you hurting me."

The Black Dog was quick to try to close the distance, to wrap Kara in his arms once again so he could try and protect her. However, he was quick to discover that it was his turn to be pushed back.

"That's why I couldn't face you for so long. 'Cause every time you tried to apologize or talk to me or argue with me the only thing I could I feel was that pain. That _helplessness_." Kara spoke that final word with a significant degree of anger, as if there wasn't a single thing more that she could hate more. "I didn't want to feel that anymore."

"_I am never going to hurt you_," Lloyd hissed as he instinctively grabbed Kara by the shoulders, the pair of gestures causing Kara to jump just an inch or two backwards.

"You can't promise that," Kara hoarsely countered, her long neck tilting her head back and forth. "No one can and it's wrong to even try to do it. You can't protect everyone from everything."

Lloyd could feel himself letting out a long-stored breath, the exhalation sounding just a bit like a bark of laughter to him. _So that's the secret_, he thought as he slowly brought his fingers to Kara's face. _Pretty bloody weird that I couldn't figure that out_, he added with a hint of chagrin, the frustration quickly melting away as he brought his fingertips to Kara's slightly swollen lips, a smile rising on his own lips at the thought of being responsible for Kara's ruffled hair and the red tinge on her cheeks.

"Then how about another promise, yeah?" he asked brusquely, his confidence slowly coming back to him. "I'm right tired of picking myself up when I stumble. So, so I'm figurin' that, mebbe if you could help pick me up then. . . then maybe I can try and do the same for you."

Kara was more than happy to inch closer towards her requestor. She felt a bit of a sting as Lloyd's rough fingertips brushed against a cut she had received from one of Henshaw's dangerous right hooks but that wasn't about to stop her.

"I'd like that," she whispered, fairly confident that Lloyd could hear her.

The two came together again, their fourth kiss a great deal softer than the three that preceded it. This time there was no need to impress or to grab and grasp and gasp because they both knew that the other one would stay where they were. Another bridge had somehow managed to be crossed despite the temerity shared by the two clumsy explorers.

"We should've done this a lot bloody sooner."

Kara couldn't help but scrunch up her nose and giggle, a move that would have certainly caused Stephanie to complain loudly and longly. "Well, at the risk of sounding a little forward," she said with a hint of playfulness, "I wouldn't exactly mind making up for lost time."

As much as he wanted to take Kara up on his offer, whatever wonderful stuff it might have entailed, Lloyd found himself smiling as he pressed his right index finger against her forehead. "Now, now. You know as well as I that Bats would never let us hear the end o' it if we started givin' in to our animal urges while there's still a universe to save."

"Pesky universe," Kara snorted while rolling her eyes. "How come we always have to be the ones to look after it?"

"Wellllllll, if lads and lasses like your cousin didn't keep buggerin' things up and fail to keep it out of danger in the first place. . ."

"Oh, fine. Something bad happens and you have to go and blame it on my family."

The two of them shared a laugh while making sure to keep a gradually looser hold on each other. Still, seeing a potential opportunity, Kara leaned in close once again so that her lips were mere inches from Lloyd's.

"C'mon, Black Dog," she said with a surprisingly alluring purr. "Waiting gives the devil time."

"Good things come to those who wait," Lloyd countered firmly.

Kara leaned back just so Lloyd could see her upraised eyebrows. "He who hesitates is lost."

"Slow and steady wins the race."

"In delay there lies no plenty."

"Ooh, good one," Lloyd couldn't help but admit while appreciating the sight of Kara sticking out her tongue in appreciation. "He that can have patience can have what he will."

"Well, we're just going to have to see about that." Kara remarked before giving Lloyd a peck on the cheek. "Very well. I suppose I'm ready to endure Gotham once again."

"Y'know that Ciss and Steph are gonna try an' talk your ears off about this," Lloyd pointed out.

"Well, then I can borrow your ears after Dick and Roy are done with 'em,"

Lloyd brought his teeth together and let out a breath in anticipation of the inescapable explanations to come. "I swear, if we survive all o' this we're gonna have to take some time to find friends with more active social calendars."

Kara let out an ungraceful grunt the 18-year-old now decidedly less worried about whether or not Lloyd would think littler of her for doing so. "Please. I've been saying that for years now," she replied before putting herself into a brief leap that set her about fifteen feet into the air.

"Kara."

The young woman was quick to turn around.

"Yeah?"

"Androids tend to be weakest in the servos and joints. Spots in the neck, arms, and legs. I mean, I'm not sayin' that it'll bring Henshaw down for the count but maybe ya can. . ."

The Last Daughter of Krypton was almost slightly annoyed by how quickly the leader in Lloyd had resurfaced. However, the quick peek she had at what lay underneath all of that was more than enough to convince her that she could find it again. "There's a good reason why Vincent keeps putting people in front of him whenever the two of you are about to fight," she countered. "It's the same reason why he keeps trying to convince you that he's the victim every time the two of you are face-to-face. He's afraid of what's going to happen when you finally realize that you can beat him."

Kara brought herself back down to ground level again, her right hand firmly wrapping around Lloyd's chin so that the skin between his lips and his jawbones were nearly smushed together.

"And you better beat him, Lloyd Thomas. 'Cause if you don't then I'm going to hunt you down and make you pay for trying to leave me alone with Robin and The Goddamned Batman."

Lloyd did his best to try and smile through the hold that his newfound girlfriend had on him. It wasn't possible, of course, but something told him that she had a good idea of what he was feeling. He let out a breath as Kara let him, the young man making a distinct effort to clear his throat in what he hoped to be a mildly dignified manner.

"Now how could a bloke refuse a request like that?"

* * *

_Wayne Manor_

As he angrily stomped his way through the expansive pantry, his once nearly inexhaustible well of patience having long been drained dry, Alfred Pennyworth still somehow managed to be aware of the distressing fact that, at least in some certain terms, he had asked for everything around him to happen. He wanted more people to look after. He wanted more good people that he could shelter under his old but still sturdy wings. He wanted Master Bruce to have the opportunity to be surrounded by the warmth and companionship that he had deserved for so long.

But this. . .

"THIS IS BLOODY RIDICULOUS!" he raved as he threw his hands into the air. "Assassins and mercenaries and children running afoot and. . . and sodding teenagers who never make their beds no matter how many times I politely ask them to do so! How in the name of God am I supposed to endure all of this!"

"With a small bit of compassion and a great array of patience."

And it was bad enough, as far as Alfred was concerned, that he found himself jumping in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice. What made it somehow worse was the fact that the voice belonged to Talia's chief bodyguard, perhaps the only man among the manor's several hundred inhabitants who could precisely understand just what he was being asked to go through. To his great credit, the former Interpol agent was quick to recover his usual composure, his stoic countenance once again rising to the occasion as it had countless times before.

"I must confess that it has been a good, long while since I have found myself asked to help feed a group of this size," Ubu diverged as he somehow managed to weave his wide, muscular body around Alfred in order to make his way to the cupboard's southwestern corner. "Also, I would like to once again apologize for any inconvenience that I or my students have forced in front of you," he continued as he stretched to grab a 40-pound slab of roast beef that had spent several days thawing on the metal rack in front of him.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Alfred replied while reaching for a similarly sized portion of turkey. "In fact, if I may say so, your students have kept their quarters remarkably clean and organized throughout your entire stay."

"I am pleased to hear that," Ubu answered while somehow sidling past his fellow manservant once again. "And I realize that I may be overstepping my bounds here but, speaking as someone who has frequently found the safety of their charge to be out of their hands, I am quite certain that Mister Wayne will return alive and well."

"I find it, _eragh_," Alfred grunted as he shifted the weight in his hands, "surprising to hear that from someone who has endangered his life on so many occasions."

Ubu's steady movements suddenly came to a stop, the cease in movement forcing Alfred to stop as well. This, of course, left the distinguished gentleman with a nice bit of time to think about the many other ways he could have responded to Ubu's kind words, particularly the vast majority of them that would most likely not lead to the acquirement of broken bones.

"I fought your master because his goals were different than my master's," Ubu said firmly, the much larger fellow thankfully not in a violent mood. "I assure you that it had nothing to do with any genuine desire to cause harm to a man of such nobility."

Alfred found himself releasing a breath, the move putting quite a crimp on the stiff, upper lip he had worked so hard to build back together.

"Well, I suppose I can respect that," he relented. "After all, having recently been forced to surrender my kitchen, I suppose I can be more receptive towards other displaced individuals."

Alfred could have sworn that he saw a hint of a smile on Ubu's face as the two of them pushed their way through the swinging, wooden door that separated the pantry from the kitchen proper. They were quickly surrounded by a maelstrom of noise from a wide variety of sources including loud voices, silver hitting glass, steel striking against wood and glass banging against wood. Both Alfred and Ubu somehow managed to weather their way through the chaos and noise as they made their way to the main island at the center of the dining area. The apparent overlord of the noisy proceedings was there waiting for them, his boorish behavior and loud-mouthed ways (or at least that's how Alfred saw it) having allowed the fellow to take a firm hold over quite a few of the activities within the mansion that Alfred had once taken great pride in overseeing.

"ALL RIGHT THEN, LADS AND LASSES! NO SHOVIN' OR MUCKIN' ABOUT MY BAR 'CAUSE THE FOOD AND DRINKS ARE ON THE WAY!" bellowed Nigel Thornton, the former bodyguard seemingly determined to turn one of Gotham's most prestigious residences into the first American branch of The Rusty Sambo. Of course, as much as Alfred was loathe to admit it, the swarthy Brit seemed to know what he was doing, the spiky-haired ruffian working his own magic in an apparent effort to turn what could have been quite the unruly mob into a noisy but peaceful array of hungry and thirsty troops.

"Ahhhhh, here's wot we're lookin' for," the squat bartender said approvingly while placing both slabs of meat into his chubby clutches. "Pish Tosh. Prince of Persia. Thanks a bunch. This'll be right diamond."

Ubu merely nodded his head in response before moving to check on his students. Alfred, on the other hand, once again found himself stiffening up at the sound of his new title. However, not wanting to once again offend a man who could most likely stuff him within his own garbage disposal if he was so inclined, Alfred chose to respond with one of the more peaceful of available inquiries.

"Mister Thornton, just how on Earth are you capable of handling such a crowd?"

There was a glint in Nigel's squat, blue eyes as he momentarily bent down to fetch a bottle from one of the nearby cabinets. "Ahhhh, it's all a matter o' makin' yaself heard, mate," he said while bringing the tall flask down onto the island's surface with a _thunk!_. "OI! HOT SHOT! Got ya tequila ready!!"

* * *

"Now that's something I like to hear!" exclaimed Floyd Lawton while quickly snatching the decanter away. Still quite a bit miffed that he was no longer allowed to smoke in the house (Scandal had threatened to gouge out his eyes with his own revolvers), he was quite eager to partake in the unique comfort that only an agave-based spirit could provide. Making sure to keep a tight grip on his prize, the Secret Six member weaved his way through the throng of mercenaries making their way around and through the crowded area while returning to his table. Once there, he was mildly pleased to discover that the four already seated were quite happy to see him despite the distinct possibility that the reaction was more because of the arrival of the alcohol than of him.

"So fortunate that you finally chose to return," greeted Ragdoll, the contortionist snatching the bottle with his disjointed left arm before moving to pour himself a glass with the aid of his broken wrist. "Especially given that it is your turn to tell a story."

"Is that right?" Lawton asked with a grumble while snatching back the bottle he had worked so hard to get. The assassin made certain to take a stiff shot of the contents inside before passing it on to the person on his right. If anything else, the disgusting maneuver gave him the time to think of just what he was going to say. "Ah, all right! Here's one that Litterboxman should remember well. It was when that bastard poppa of Scandal's had put a contract out on all of us."

"Here we go. . ." Catman groaned while covering his face with his hands.

"She ended up getting shot the hell up by some chica who called herself Pistolera," Deadshot went on. "I mean, the chick was just completely trashed and covered in bandages for, like, three days straight. So me, Blake, and Fries are sittin' around in the kitchen getting ourselves some grub, talkin' 'bout just what in the hell we're gonna do with our biggest gun out of commission and suddenly she just comes walkingin, hale, hearty, and _naked_ as the day she was born!"

"You're shittin' me!" shouted another voice as Blake shook his head back and forth.

"I shit you not, kid. And she just got out of the shower and everything so she's just drippin' water; that long, red hair of hers just clinging against all the good stuff. I mean, it's like somethin' out of a high-class porno flick and Blake and I are sittin' there and we can't say a damn word. So we're just standing all still while she strolls on by, snatches Tommy's plate from him, thanks him for the cooking, and says that she's gonna have breakfast out on the terrace so she could eat in peace."

Thomas Blake found himself joining in with the laughter around him, the former two-bit villain taking comfort from all the insanity.

"So Blake and I just watch her leave, the porch door just swings shut, and Freeze, who didn't even look up the whole damn time." Lawton suddenly had to stop, not only to recover himself but also to accept the bottle back from Ragdoll. "And the only thing he has to say is that he hopes she doesn't mess up the carpets!!"

Laughter overtook the tiny table once again, the clamor rising as Catman pounded his left fist against the wood.

"She didn't give a flying fuck about what anyone else thought about what she did," Deadshot said gruffly just before the mirth was completely finished. "And God damned that I'm gonna miss her for that."

Silence reigned for a moment or two before Catman snatched the bottle from the man who he grudgingly accepted as his best friend. "Okay, I've got another story," he announced while pouring himself a glass. "This is about six months before Floyd's last story when I was tellin' Scandal that I was going to take a leave of absence. Y'know, just a week or two of hunting along the Great Rift Valley just to get myself centered again. Suddenly, Kay comes barging in and says that she wants to come along. I mean, I don't know if she wants to get to know me better or skin me and hang me up on that trophy wall of hers but Scandal gives the okay and I'm just too damn scared to say no."

"Oh, goodness," Ragdoll said with an impish, little chuckle. "I do hope this ends with dear Kay wearing a hunting darby and hunting rabbits."

Thomas Blake took a necessary moment to glare at his bizarre colleague before continuing on. "So a couple days in and she hasn't even done a bit of hunting or tracking so I finally work up the nerve to ask her if there's some kind of problem. She tells me she's bored and she's going to go off on her own for a while. Well, you weren't about to hear me complain and I'm figuring that she's more than capable of taking care of herself so I just leave her to her own devices."

"And somethin' tells me that wasn't a good idea," Deadshot concluded.

"Well, that depends on your perspective," Blake countered while tipping his glass towards the longtime hired gun. "She comes back to the camp sometime around midnight carrying a live, god damned elephant on one shoulder and three, scared as shit poachers on the other," he paused to swallow his own laughter while those around him chose not to. "And she starts griping to me about how the poachers weren't challenging the elephant to a fair fight and then asks me if we could eat them as punishment."

Another round of laughter washed over the proceedings as three of the four denizens of the table did their best to imagine the scene that the master tracker had presented to them. None of the interpretations could possibly be fully accurate, of course, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have a good time while trying.

Yet another _thunk _of the tequila bottle brought the scene to silence once again. "Okay, I've got an even better one than those two!" Arrowette declared.

"Aw, come on, kid!" Deadshot spat. "I mean, no offense, but you barely knew her."

"Well, I know a lot about something about her," the archer fired back before launching into her tale. "Okay, this was back when I was still with Young Justice and she would occasionally just drop by the place just to spar or say hello to Superboy. None of us really knew why the two of 'em hung out, not even Tim, but one day I'm looking for Connor and I'm not thinking and I just bust into his room without knocking."

"Oh, you're right, this is better than my story," Deadshot broke in, the assassin leaning in so he could catch every word.

"And I catch Superboy jerkin' off to a picture of Kay on his computer!"

"Oh, GOD! Why in the fuck did I think that I wanted to hear about that?!" Lawton cursed as Ragdoll laughed and Catman looked on in disbelief. "Damn it, girl! What the hell is wrong with you tellin' a story like that?!"

"Hold on, I'm getting to the good stuff," Arrowette insisted. "So, one day, like, a month after all of that happened and Connor's pissed me off with all of his lame Catholic schoolgirl jokes and I'm looking for some payback. And, just as luck would have it, this is a day that Kay just comes strolling in with Superboy right behind her like a lovesick puppy and, just like that, I tell her about Wonder Bread Jr. little exploits and Connor is as red as a tomato!"

Thomas Blake wisely decided for another round of holding his head in his hands as Lawton started laughing like a hyena.

"Gets better! Gets better! So Kay hears all this and just outright tells Connor that she's cool with it and, well, would be more than happy to bang him. And before he can even react, in comes Wonder Girl looking all offended and goody too shoes like usual. She just puffs out her chest," she explained, stretching out her own torso as she did so, "and starts reading Kay the riot act about how she shouldn't be mackin' on Connor and how you're not suppose to say stuff like that and blah de blah de blah."

"I knew that Wonder Chick would have a stick up her ass," Deadshot grumbled as Ragdoll nodded in agreement. For some reason, however, the grizzled mercenary's response only caused Arrowette to let out a spit of laughter before continuing on.

"So Kay just shrugs her shoulders, apologizes for her rudeness, and says that she wouldn't mind at all if Cassie wanted to join in," Cecilia managed to say through her hitched breathing, the ensuing howls of laughter from Deadshot and Ragdoll, and Catman's well-practiced groan. "So now Superboy's eyes are bugging out, Cassie turns beet red before she runs back into her room, I'm rolling on the floor laughing, and Kay just stands there asking what in the hell she did wrong!"

"DAMMMMMMN!!" Floyd hollered before slamming his glass hard against the table. "Aw, jeez. All right, everyone. Raise a glass. Raise a glass to Knockout," he ordered as Arrowette, Catman, and Ragdoll eagerly complied.

"She was far too real for this world," Catman said softly as the four of them clinked glasses in tribute of a friend.

* * *

Linda Park-West smiled while watching her husband bounce Jai up and down on his knee. The happy burbling of her youngest child, when added with the smile on Wally's face, caused a great many of her built-up fears to fade away as she reaped the rewards that such a trying life would occasionally bequeath to her. As corny and potentially demeaning as it may have sounded, Linda found it a lot easier to be happier when Wally was happy. In fact, the simple fact was that, despite all the independence and self-sufficiency she had worked so hard to build up in her 30 years, the red-headed fellow sitting next to her had become a necessary part of her, a portion that she wouldn't change even if she could.

"Be sure to enjoy all this while it lasts," warned Roy Harper in what he probably presumed to be a sagely manner. Of course, the bottle of beer in his hand stole quite a bit from that attempted image. "'Cause before ya know it, a lot of the stuff that makes these little boogers happy is stuff you have to buy in a department store and I'm not sure if you can afford all of that on a mechanic's salary."

"Well, that's a big reason why I dropped my anchor around this hot, talented momma," Wally explained while leaning to kiss Linda on the lips. "I mean, this way I can have somebody who will pay my bills _and _look after me while she does it."

"Sooooo, you're just The World's Fastest Manwhore?" Roy asked before taking another sip of his Guinness.

"Yes, indeed." Linda cheerfully answered while claiming her property with a kiss on Wally's freckled cheeks. "In fact, I had it written that way specifically in our pre-nup."

As insulting as it could have been, The Flash seemed to have little trouble accepting the ingratiating distinction. Leaning into his wife's kiss, he kept the corners of his green eyes locked on the two little figures making their way to the table. A smile quickly grew onto his face as he watched Lian walk hand-in-hand with his other child, the older girl apparently taking at least a bit of interest in making certain that Iris made her way to them safely. That being said, the 10-year-old was also quite quick to abandon his child when she was only a few steps away from her father, the copper-skinned troublemaker eagerly hopping into the seat next to her even more unmanageable father.

"Hello again, pumpkin," Roy greeted Lian with a smile and a ruffling of her jet-black hair. "Come to spend some more time with your old man, huh?"

"Uh huh," Lian said with a slightly distracted nod. "Can I have a beer?"

Roy rolled his eyes as he took in the sound of Linda's laughter. "All right, sweetie. What did I say about you drinking alcohol?"

The little one let out a melodramatic sigh while Linda hefted Iris onto her lap. "Not until I'm twelve and only if I take it from Uncle Ollie's liquor cabinet."

"That's my girl," Roy said brightly before kissing his little girl on her forehead. The entire exhibition was more than enough to convince Wally to turn away from the bizarre little scene and towards his eldest child. And, given that Iris appeared to be staring at him, this was probably a good decision for him to make.

"Where Mister Batman, daddy?"

As one might have expected, the 3-year-old's question drew an interesting array of reactions from the others at the table. Lian, well aware of what was going on, attempted to use the distraction in order to make a playful play for her father's beer. Roy, recognizing the awkwardness of the situation, quirked his lips to one side while sliding his unattended bottle of beer away from his opportunistic daughter. Linda, on the other hand, brought her teeth together and drew in her breath, the young columnist and mother of two clearly not wanting to handle this particular issue this soon.

The Flash just looked as if his stomach had fallen down to somewhere around his right testicle.

"Oh, God, no."

"Yeahhhhh," Linda said cautiously while taking a moment to smooth a rogue bang of red hair away from her daughter's forehead. "Hate to say this, Uncle Roy, but I think somebody's taken over your spot as Iris's favorite uncle. In fact, Alfred and I have found her hanging around the grandfather clock in front of The Batcave on quite a few occasions and something tells me she's not trying to learn how to tell time."

Wally nodded his head up and down. Quite frankly, he didn't feel very comfortable with doing anything more at the moment.

"You say you want a revolution, wellllll, you know," Roy began singing while using his bottle of beer to set the beat. "We all want to change the world. . ."

"SHUT UP!" Wally snapped, his response to the works of Lennon and McCarthy causing both Lian and Roy to snigger. To her credit, Linda at least had the decency to turn her face away before laughing at her frustrated husband's expense.

Feeling merciful, Arsenal chose to call off the dogs and turn his attention back to his own daughter. "Well, li'l bit, I saved a planet while I was gone so the least you could do was keep from flunking out of the fifth grade."

Lian narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose before replying. "I'm making all A's and B's," she said rather prissily. "Miss Scandal's been helping me with my homework, I've finished all my book reports, and now I know my multiplication tables up to the 13's," she added with a bit more cheer, her enthusiasm gaining another boost when she saw her father smile in reaction to the good news. "Oh, and Mister Deadshot showed me how to shoot a revolver. Isn't that cool?"

Now it was Wally's turn to look smug and Roy's turn to look like it might be a good idea to stick his own head (or at least the head of another morally-deprived sharpshooter) into a deep fryer. Fortunately, before either Arsenal or Deadshot could acquire any unnecessary facial burns, a loud whistle from the direction of the main lobby brought the noisy proceedings down to a relative silence. Lian, Linda, Roy, and Wally all turned to cast a glance at Nightwing, the look on the field commander's face a clear indication that he wasn't up here for whatever Nigel was cooking up back in the kitchen.

"We've received another communication from The Silver Coyote. I'm going to need all the group leaders down in the briefing room immediately."

* * *

_Rio de Janeiro_

Vincent watched the video playing on the television screen in front of him with significantly detached interest, his senses far too distracted with the hope of accomplishing what he had been dreaming of doing for years.

"I mean, it's not that I don't want to be there when everybody starts locking horns," explained the image of Edgar Cizko, the camera brought in close in an attempt to make the diminutive psychopath look mildly more imposing. "Well, it's sort of because of that 'cause, let's face facts, that's usually the time when guys like me tend to loose some fairly important organs and wobbly bits."

The Silver Coyote said nothing to the grunt of disgust coming from his left. Instead, he merely raised his eyebrows as his undersized former colleague continued to plead his case from afar.

"It's just that, hey, what if you guys turn out to be on the losing side of things and I'm sitting there holding the bloody knife? Good God, man! I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"I should kill him for this," Hunter Zolomon said with a sneer, the look in the speedster's eyes telling Vincent that the former FBI agent was trying hard to resist destroying the screen. "Abandoning us at a time like this."

"Now, now, we both saw this coming," Vincent calmly replied. "Besides, his job is already done. It is now upon us to do what needs to be done in order to inherit what we have worked so long and hard to deserve."

Vincent's eyes were blue and clear as he turned to his colleague.

"Are you ready to inherit the Earth, my brother?"

"Indeed I am," Zolomon said with a smile.

"Ladies, gentlemen, Guy Gardner. . ."

"Fuck you, Grayson!" barked the aforementioned Green Lantern over a sparse array of chuckles and titters.

"And now that I've gotten my lone joke out of the way," Nightwing went on. "It appears that we have all been invited to what promises to be quite the grand party."

"Bring your own bottle?" Robin asked while resisting the urge to park her boots up on the metal conference table that she and over a dozen others were sitting around.

"We're going to have to bring a great deal more than that," Grayson replied. "It appears that Vincent is finally deciding to put all of his cards on the table. He's told us that he plans on using his entire army to take us on this time and, given what we know about his personal philosophy and proclaimed raison d'être, we're finding it hard to believe that this threat isn't genuine."

"Can we be expectin' any help from The Amazons?" Nigel Thornton asked with a grunt. "Or mebbe from some of the few remainin' Boy Scouts about?"

Nightwing let out a mild sigh. "I'm afraid that Vincent has made sure that his army did what they needed to do in order to cripple Themyscira to the point where it is unlikely that they will be able to lend us a hand. Also, given the lack of available networks of communication between us and the remaining good guys, the odds that we'll be receiving any more reinforcements is pretty long indeed. This means, of course, that we're likely to be outnumbered by several thousand troops and that means that we're going to have to put our brains together to think of a way to avoid heavy losses."

"I apologize, Nightwing," Catman broke in, "but I'm finding it hard to believe that Vincent would be so bold. There has to be a catch to all of this."

"Indeed there is, Mister Blake," replied Noah Kuttler. The hacker was quick to employ his laptop to send a prompt command towards the visual projector placed at the middle of the long conference table. A map of the world was soon displayed upon the western wall for all to see, the green and black display pockmarked with five red dots. "According to The Silver Coyote's demands, the battle will be taking place at five separate locations: The Flash Museum, The Daily Planet, Waynetech's Barcelona headquarters, the chief executive office of Tenryu Enterprises in Hong Kong, and Crime Alley."

"Sounds wonderfully poetic," Hal Jordan proclaimed while rubbing the fingers of his right hand across his cheek.

"I am afraid that it gets a bit more prosaic than that, Mister Jordan," The Calculator went on. "The Silver Coyote has made it clear that he will only accept a single person to accept the invitation to each of the first four destinations. The skirmish at Crime Alley, on the other hand, appears to be an open call. He has warned us that if these conditions are not specifically met then he will instead use his army to destroy every major population center on the North American continent, a threat that I am afraid he is more than capable of accomplishing."

"God damnit, this makes no fucking sense!" Arsenal shouted while pounding his right fist against the table, his opinion and frustration shared by many of those around him. "What the hell is he getting out of doing something like this? Why all the convoluted plans and conditions and threats?!"

"It's our test, Harper."

Nearly every eye in the room turned towards the room's entrance where the sounds of two pairs of footsteps echoed off the limestone floor. Neither Kara Zor-el nor Lloyd Thomas gave the newfound attention too much of a response, the two warriors walking side-by-side towards the front of the table.

"As far as The Silver Coyote is concerned, this next battle is all about determining who deserves all the power and influence that's currently up for grabs," Lloyd continued as Kara moved to take the seat at Dick and Lloyd's right. "He wants to see how well some of us are capable of paving our own way as well as how we can work together in order to get done what needs to get done and he's planning to do all of that in one fell swoop."

"You're certain of this?" asked Nightwing.

"Absolutely," Lloyd answered with a firm nod. "So this is how we're gonna get all o' that done. Kara's off to Metropolis, Stephanie's taking Barcelona, and Wally's going to Central City and I shouldn't have to tell any of you about what you're going to be facing once you get there."

Kara and Wally both nodded, a part of their minds already circulating around who would be waiting for them. Stephanie, on the other hand, was quiet for only a moment before shooting her gaze up towards her big brother.

"Bruce is there," she said softly, as if she couldn't believe that she was saying it.

"Nightwing will have command of the forces in Crime Alley with Hal Jordan, Talia Al-Ghul, and Amanda Waller in charge of dispensing orders to their respective troop divisions. The Calculator will be responsible for maintaining the groundside communication networks as well as keep contact with the Qwardian attack force. Remember, people," he said as he cast his gaze out on nearly everyone in the small space, "your only goals should be to hold off Vincent's army and do what you can to reduce civilian casualties. It's up to Kilowog, Rayner, and the other half of the Corps to get rid of these bastards for good."

Nightwing raised his right eyebrow in response to all the orders, The Batman's first student not feeling the least bit put off by the fact that he, for the moment, was no longer the meeting's star attraction.

"I don't suppose I have to ask about just what you're gonna do, do I?"

The Black Dog turned to lock eyes with his fellow field commander, a familiar gray tinge swirling into his pupils as he did so.

"I should hope not."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Y'know what's weird? This issue is probably going to be about 10,000 words long and I honestly have no idea just how it got to be that way! It's not like I really have the spare time to write out a whole bunch of drawn out conversations or something that has no point. I'm working a 60-hour work week, for crying out loud? I'm writing these super long chapters that have no senseless violence and I don't even know how I'm doing it?!

Does anybody have the number of a good psychological counselor? Something tells me I could use one.

All kinda-sorta-joking aside, thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear what all of you think about what was going on in this chapter because, all kidding aside, I threw a lot of love and effort into this puppy and the litter that's going to follow. Also, be sure to throw me some suggestions as to what you want to see from the Misfitverse when the main series goes on hiatus (which I'm projecting to be about sometime in late March or early April with Issue #84, the start of the fourth novel, coming out sometime in September or October.) I've got a lot of good ideas but I'd like to hear what you guys thinking. Speaking of which, what do you think about this next issue preview?

* * *

_Issue #75 Preview_

It's another landmark issue here at Chez Misfit but don't expect Earth's weirdest band of heroes breaking out the ice cream cake. Instead, we've got Kara getting ready to take on Hank Henshaw in the center of Metropolis, The Flash locking horns with Zoom, Robin jetting off to Barcelona to see what Sinestro has in store for her, and The Black Dog making his way back to his former home and whatever The Silver Coyote has in store for him. All this and the death of a true champion in the 75th installment of _The Misfits_: Tears under Crimson Skies. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	75. Tears into Crimson Skies

Issue #75

Tears under Crimson Skies

_Metropolis_

Kara could still remember the sound of cheers rising up to meet her when she made her first trip to this gleaming conurbation alongside her cousin. Feeling the exultation displayed by the hundreds of strangers below and smiling as the heavy cape sown by Ma Kent had flowed behind her as she flew through the sky, a small, immature part of her had thought that this was what life would always be like in this strange, new world. Here she would be appreciated for all that she could accomplish. She wouldn't have to deal with the painful and confusing flashes and memories that had already begun to sneak up on her because the present would be far too appealing to avoid.

Yes, just as Kal-El seemed to draw the strength behind his broad, unadulterated smile as he led her around his second adopted home, she tried very hard to find hope and confidence within all the noise. However, it didn't take long at all before she started feeling uncomfortable. Itchy. Sure, she put on that big, toothy smile while the cameras flashed and the children asked for photos and autographs but even her best attempts at denial couldn't hide away the knowledge that the gleaming girl she was putting on display could never really be her. Even when she didn't know just where she could find the grime, a part of her always knew that her hands were just a little too dirty for life in the public eye.

The seemingly dismal silence that now loomed over the city was a great deal more comforting to her. The questions below her were fewer, less pressing, and not being delivered with an almost boyish curiosity.

What was Krypton like?

Are the big cities on Earth anything like the grand capitals of their home world?

Could he tell her anything about his mother and father? What about the rest of their family?

Looking back on it all, Kara realized that it was good that she wasn't able to give her cousin any clear answers to his many questions. The act of shattering idyllic illusions, although often a necessity, was something she was rarely up for doing. The same held true for watching others when her delusions had quickly began to unravel and fall apart, the looks on the faces of Lloyd, Stephanie, and Mister Wayne as they watched those pretty walls of hers began to crumble at her feet still a clear sight in her mind's eye.

And now she was here to do another bit of breaking, a city where she had remained in for less than three days before Stephanie Brown had arrived at Bruce Wayne's request and helped turn her down another path. She could count the number of times she had returned to her cousin's home in the past two years on one hand and have fingers to spare and each incident was punctuated by the fact that Earth's greatest hero had no idea that she had come and gone. She feels little guilt about making such a definite decision, long recognizing that the journey she has undertaken has been a good one.

Regret, perhaps, but not guilt.

She is well aware of the surrounding whispers as she begins her steady descent towards the ground below. The low-lying murmurs are nearly just as imposing as the cavalcade of Manhunters that surround her destination, the blue and purple death machines still and silent but no doubt keeping an eye on their steady audience. All the noise and activity is little more than a staccato procession of questions but it still manages to mix well with the sound of the wind swirling around her and the _whirr_ of the propulsion engines within the androids' central processing cores.

Who is that? Why are they here? Is she a bad person, mommy? She doesn't look very nice. Now what are these monsters going to do to him?

What's going to happen to us now?

The sight of the androids parting to either side of her only causes the whispers of the citizens of Metropolis to grow stronger. She continues to avoid the many words while watching the nearly 200 automatons lift themselves skyward before beginning their long journey over 1,000 miles to the east. She takes another second or two to watch them go, the half-Kryptonian wanting to make certain that no more innocents will be caught within all that is about to happen. Conveniently enough, the responsible gesture also gives her several more seconds to avoid the other sight to be seen. Consciously taking another moment more to soak in all the burblings of hope beginning to surface as some of the braver crowd members ask if they finally have the opportunity to put a stop to the sadistic display that they have been forced to witness for far too long, she finally decides to look forward.

"Hi, Kal. It's been a while, huh?"

She knows that Superman can't hear her, the agony etched all over her cousin's face a clear sign that he could only pay attention to his own, long-standing suffering. A barely maintained cord in her stomach begin to knot as she forces herself to look at Kal-El's clammy, blood-strewn forehead and hear his shallow, pain-filled gasps. As much as she would like to avoid doing so, she makes certain to turn her ears toward the barely perceptible sound of The Man of Steel's flesh attempting to heal around the mystic metal that binds his wrists and ankles, resulting in a curdling of flesh and skin that almost causes Kara to shudder.

_This man once spent three hours of his life trying to persuade me to go out and walk around with him in Metropolis_, Kara reminded herself as her slow steps brought her closer and closer to the horrific exhibit_. He fed me, cared for me, and did his best to look after me during a time when I wanted nothing to do with anybody_. _He put so much of his time and energy in trying to show me a world that I could be happy in and I haven't spoken to him in nearly two years._

The Last Daughter of Krypton stood still for a moment in order to shake her head back and forth, the gesture prompting some of the surrounding crowd to ask just what in the hell was wrong with her.

_I don't regret my decision_. _It's because of my own choice that I can live my life the way that I believe I should. I don't have to be the All-American girl that I never was. I can do things that this good man in front of me can't do. _

_What he shouldn't have to._

She could hear the boos and jeers as a familiar eldritch hum snuck into her eardrums. Shaking herself free from her thoughts, Kara cast her blue eyes up to the sky in order to bear witness to the sick amalgamation of metal and flesh coming down to meet her, the four Qwardian power rings on Hank Henshaw's right hand suffusing the murderer with a golden aura that caused many of the surrounding bystanders to scurry backwards. Not a one of them was unaware of the price of angering the Cyborg Superman, the memories of charred corpses lining the surrounding streets and the sight of what had been left of Kendra Saunders' body doubtlessly still fresh in the thoughts of the citizens of Metropolis.

"I must admit that I am surprised by this turn of events," Henshaw admitted coldly, the former space traveler giving nearly no attention to the hisses and catcalls coming his way. "Given the nature of your bloodline, you were the last person I would guess to wear a shroud to such an historic occasion."

Kara took a moment to slide her right ring finger around the black cloth that covered her face, her calloused fingertip tracing over the mantelpiece of the battle armor that Mister Wayne had put so much time, money and effort into making for her only days after she had rid herself of the belly shirt and mini skirt. In fact, The Batman had assigned no less than Lucius Fox to head up the construction effort, a move that caused embarrassment not only to her but also to the veteran engineer when he discovered just who his most recent client truly was. All preliminary nerves on both sides aside, the weapon smith had gone on to create a thing of dangerous beauty, a garment of ebony-black silk and titanium alloy that would easily stand up to the kinetic heat generated by a humanoid creature traveling at over 100 times the speed of sound. She had never had the need or desire to bring the armor into play before, nor would it protect her from a great many of the weapons that Henshaw had at his disposal, but it would serve its purpose.

"What makes you say that?"

Henshaw responded with what Kara presumed to be a smirk, the mixture of flesh and metal making nearly any expression quite difficult to discern. "I was merely saying that I thought you would want to hear the cheers of the crowd. Perhaps soak in the adoration of these sacks of meat that you work so hard to protect."

The snort escaped from Kara's nose before she could even bother to stop it.

"I'm not here for the spotlight or the cheers, Henshaw. I'm here to give these people the opportunity to go on living and do what they want to do."

Henshaw let out a grunt of his own. "Don't insult my intelligence or drum up your so-called noble aspirations, little one. These fools wouldn't know what to do with such a privilege even if they deserved to have it."

"Maybe, maybe not," Kara countered, her long legs tensing in preparation. "But the fact remains that neither you nor I have the right to decide how someone wishes to live their own life."

Henshaw hunkered down as well, the cyborg clearly eager to get on with the battle that Vincent had promised him. However, the bending of his metallic tendons prompted Kara to raise herself back to her full height, the fingers on her left hand calmly stretching forward as if she had just made a sudden realization.

"And besides," she added with a slight smile. "There's no way I would be able to compete with all your whining about how you want to die."

It only took a quarter of a second for a distinct snarl to form on what remained of Hank Henshaw's lips. Another fifth of a second passed before Kara slammed into the angry Sinestro Corps general, the combination of the half-Kryptonian's speed and her upward trajectory enabling her to carry the Yellow Lantern up off the ground.

"Let's take this somewhere private," Kara suggested as they traveled several thousand feet above the tallest buildings that Metropolis had to offer. "'Cause this isn't really for innocent ears."

* * *

_Keystone City_

This was hardly the first time that Wallace Rudolph West had stood on this particular spot within this particular room of the thrice-rebuilt Flash Museum. Of course, it wasn't the wooden floors beneath his feet or the golden statue in front of him or the slight gust of wind blowing through the vents in the southwestern corner of the room that prompted him to stand here. It was the memories, the words, and the moments of a boy that continued to lead him back to this place both in body and mind.

"_Don't you remember the things you read at super speed?"_

He was cocky even when he was trying his best to be humble.

"_How was I suppose to know that I shouldn't have done that?! I mean, why else would they call it a P-Tube?"_

He was almost completely devoid of any form of tact and good judgment.

"_Look at the brownies I made this time, Wally! The edges are barely burnt and the middle is bubbling just a little bit so I think we can still eat 'em."_

He was maybe the kindest, most good-hearted person he had ever had the fortune to meet. Uncle Barry would have loved to meet him, done anything to take him out fishing on the tributaries of the Mississippi in a dug-out canoe and spend hours doing nothing.

"_I never meant Impulse to be his name, Wally. It was meant to be warning."_

"I never liked it when Bruce was right," The Flash said while trying his best not to scowl. Bart never liked it when he got upset at him. His reddish-brown eyes would always droop down in sadness before straightening in a typical example of adolescent defiance. "Maybe I should have tried harder to stop you from trying to be a hero. Maybe I should have put more time into making sure you were prepared for whatever life had to throw at you but. Maybe I should have done more to try and follow _your _example."

Wally looked up at the gleaming statue of Bart Allen, the smile on the face of the sculpture a pale effigy of what Impulse could have accomplished. Still, the sight was too much for him at a time like this and he found himself turning away.

"But. . . But I didn't know how to do that, Bart! Hell, I barely even know how to handle everything going on in my own life, much less someone else's!"

He knew that Bart would have teased him for saying something like that at a time like this. He'd tell him not to worry about silly things like that and just focus on the here and now but Wally found that he couldn't do that just yet. Instead, his mind cast him back to another moment in time, a memory of the first time that Hunter Zolomon had tried to force him to experience the horror of loss. He could still remember the pain in Linda's eyes as Zoom had run past her at nearly the speed of light, the resulting shockwave nearly killing his beloved wife and causing a miscarriage of the two little people who had spent the last several months growing in her belly. It was a crime remedied only through an outlandish series of events that Wally wouldn't ask anyone to go through even if he knew how to do so, a true miracle in a world where wonders seemed to hang around every street corner.

But Wally knew that no temporal anomaly or bizarre phenomenon would save the life of Bartholomew Allen. The monster who was coming to see him had made certain of that with a lash of a blade and the spilling of blood onto the chaotic, war-torn streets of Metropolis.

Zoom had claimed that it was just another way of defining their roles. Wally would be the hero who would grow stronger through recognizing the importance of what there was to protect while Hunter would become the man whose unforgivable deeds would continue to allow him to be the monster.

The boy's life was made out to be nothing but a plot point.

_I can't allow that to happen_, The Flash realized with absolute certainty while the eastern wall of the museum was shattered by a blur of yellow and crimson. _You don't get to place all of the punishment at my feet, old friend_, he added as he and Zoom began to trade punches while racing across the streets of the city at a speed of just under Mach 2. _We're both guilty of the crimes we have committed and we both have to pay the penalty._

The blood that spilled from the right side of Hunter Zolomon's mouth as Wally landed a stiff, left cross was quickly evaporated by the heat of the kinetic electricity that surrounded the brawling speedsters as they reached the city's exit. Bowling over the "Now Leaving Central City" sign as they continued to push forward, the two clashing warriors continued to negotiate between running and fighting as they swept across the Appalachians.

"Sooooo, telllll me," The Flash said through gritted teeth, the velocity of his travels making his speech sound quick and throbbing. "Do you stillllll hope that thisssss will make me sssssstrongerrrrr?"

Zolomon slid to a stop about 50 miles east of North Carolina's westernmost border, the sudden cease in movement causing Wally to come to a stop about half a second and seven miles away. The murderous speedster barely had the time to draw in his breath before The Flash was inches from his face once again, the clenching of the young father's facial muscles all but screaming for an answer.

"I'm tired of waiting to see if you will ever become the hero this world deserves to have," Zoom said hatefully, his countenance just as tense and determined. "I have done so much, sullied my soul so many times in order to help you shine and yet you continue to fail everyone's expectations!"

All notions of grace and fluidity were suddenly thrown out the window as The Flash lunged for Zoom's throat, the younger man eager to silence the noise and hypocrisy. However, a quick hyperacceleration of molecules enabled Zolomon to phase through the awkward attack. He managed to land nearly two dozen punches to Wally's back, lungs and kidneys before the red-headed hero slammed his right fist into the side of his head, the pain and surprise prompting Zoom to put his feet into motion once again. Wally, of course, was quick to follow, their furtive chase quickly taking them closer and closer to the Atlantic Ocean.

"I have worked for so long to give my life meaning, to gather any explanation as to why I continue to be dragged back into this hateful existence," Zoom seethed while the sand along the Cheoah River was kicked aside by their hasty footsteps. "But now I realize that I can't rely on you to help me reach my goal. Instead, I will take the tangibility I deserve by taking all that you undeservedly received."

The Flash barely heard the words coming from the mouth of his hated foe as the smell of salt water assaulted his nose. The peaceful shoals of The Atlantic Ocean were soon a decent memory as they continued eastward, the speed of their steps enabling them to easily traverse the water beneath their feet when even physics said that such a feat should be impossible.

"I deserve that," Zoom said as the red and yellow blurs continue to twist and bend around one another, "I deserve to be the hero that you could never be."

* * *

_Hong Kong – Tenryu Tower_

The Black Dog could still remember how Mao had laughed when he and Vincent had first raced up these stairs he was standing on. It was just a couple months shy of his 13th birthday, a time when he and his big brother still had many questions pertaining to what their adoptive guardian had in store for them. Of course, the confusion caused by their still unanswered inquiries weren't quite enough to bottle in all the youthful energy that had been built up over the course of five years of confinement.

_I'm tellin' ya, Mister Mao. There's nothin' can bottle up all that stupidness when ya just let it out in the open like that,_ he remembered Nigel once saying about it all.

Lloyd couldn't even remember which one of them began dashing up the long stairwell first. However, it wasn't long at all before they were both moving as fast as their feet could carry them, their excited hearts overcoming their sensibilities with careless ease. Of course, a noontime race up one of the busiest stairwells in all of Hong Kong was not the most courteous thing that they could have done, not to mention that their strength and speed would prompt many innocent bystanders to scurry for fear of being trampled. Heaven knows how many times Mao had been forced to apologize for their childish antics or how much time the old man had spent to smooth out the wrinkled thoughts of the unfortunates that crossed their path. On the other hand, that didn't stop Mao Tenryu from smiling as it all happened.

"He wanted us to be happy," The Black Dog said to no one in particular as he leapt off the carpeted steps. He stretched his right hand down as he did so, firing a blast of eldritch energy that incinerated the face and upper neck of a White Martian that had foolishly leapt at him. Teleporting down to the floor of the lobby, the young Brit was forced to quickly turn his attention to the remaining quintet of bloodthirsty warriors that were quick to catch up with him, their crimson eyes letting loose the heat stored within the solar receptors along their cerebral cortexes. "For everything he wanted to get out of us," he added while using his blade to parry two of the blasts while dodging the remaining three, "he wanted us to be happy while he did it."

The realization that his older brother's invitation had a fair share of mistruths was made evident upon making his first steps back into the familiar reception area. The rogue thought patterns and telepathy that attempted to push through both his mind's defenses and the dampening agents of Checkmate's neurological implants had grown just as familiar to him as the pallid faces and elastic limbs of the predators that Vincent had placed under his thrall with the aid of the Mensobous Luminitas. The attacking force had only been two in number at first, the dangerous foes quickly eliminated with a solar flare he fired only moments after they floated through that familiar stairwell. However, it didn't take long at all before the number of his opponents had multiplied. In fact, only a mere seconds had passed between when he had skewered a trio of Martians with some clever work with his saber and when a half-dozen more of his extraterrestrial pesterers had shown up to take the places of his most recent victims.

However, despite the dangerously rising odds, something was keeping him from departing, something that had nothing to do with his need to confront The Silver Coyote or the threat that his brother had left lingering within his demands. That niggling instinct somehow grew stronger as a hard fist crashed between the spot of muscle between his shoulders, his forward stumbling forcing him to throw his body into a front somersault in order to avoid the arm-turned-scythe of the alien in front of him. Sliding down the creature's back, Lloyd quickly cleaved the creature's upper body in two with his saber before his feet touched the ground. As fate would have it, the deadly counter also left him slightly open for another Martian to envelop him within its elastic flesh. As his lungs became more and more strained to operate within the tightening clutches, Lloyd's instinctual need to get away was unbelievably quashed once again as he quickly grew more and more confined by the sturdy tissue.

_Sorry for the lack of subtlety, my friend. However, I am fairly certain that time is of the essence for the both of us._

Instinct soon gave way to realization as Lloyd watched the pallid flesh wrapped around him turned lush and green while loosening its grip upon him. The long, emerald cords of muscle began to grow dense and more compact while Lloyd employed his telekinesis to bring his saber back into his clutches, the dangerous blade soon finding purchase in the gut of the White Martian to his left. Despite the dangerous situation at hand, The Black Dog couldn't help but smile as a rabid howl rang out from his right, the sound doubtlessly the work of his newfound partner.

"Been wonderin' where you were at, Oreo Man," Lloyd confessed as the familiar form of The Martian Manhunter fully came back into being. "That being said, I've also got to wonder why you're here."

J'onn remained quiet for a moment, his thoughts occupied on the cross look he gave to the oncoming White Martians rushing to take the two of them on. Biting back the discouraging thoughts spawned by the ugly sight, the emblematic spinal cord of The Justice League bent himself into a familiar Ma'aleca'andrian battle stance as he prepared himself for war once again.

"I am here because this is where I needed to be," he replied simply.

* * *

_Barcelona_

This wasn't the first time that Stephanie had stared up at a looming skyscraper with Bruce Wayne's name on the base of it. As a matter of fact, the first time she had done so happened to play a significant role in one of her oldest memories. She was either six or seven, the specifics well lost to the passing of time, and she was riding on her father's shoulders down the slightly dingy but still strong streets of downtown Gotham. She was holding a corn dog in her right hand while the small fingers on her left hand kept a somewhat steady grip on her daddy's chin, a situation no doubt caused by some youthful persuasion on her part.

She remembered what a wonderful surprise it was to see her father again. Of course, there was little way for her to know that her father was out on parole and she had been all but shoveled into her father's care because her mother needed some time to get away from the world once again. No, those realizations came with the passing of time and the remembrance of things past.

But where was she? Ah, yes, the skyscraper story.

She could remember that it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. It was just. . . tall and shiny and cool and she really really _reallllly _wanted to climb to the top. She wanted to see what the world looked like from somewhere other than just a couple feet off of the ground. She wanted her mommy to be there too so she and her daddy could watch her fly high into the sky with the tippy top of the big, gleaming building as her starting point.

Her father said no, of course. He said that they didn't have the time but, now that she was looking back on it, her old man had probably done something bad and was looking to stay out of sight as much as he could. As one might imagine, that kind of answer wasn't quite enough for a six or seven-year-old. She shut her eyes as she remembered begging and then screaming to make the long trip, her young mind now convinced that her life would simply not be complete without a trip up the latest headquarters of Wayne Enterprises.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU SPOILED, LITTLE BRAT!!"

Her father's words, when mixed with the anger and hatred in Arthur Brown's eyes, had been more than enough to stun her into silence. It was even enough for her to drop her corn dog, the unhealthily fried treat plopping down on the streets below. Needless to say, shushings and broken apologies were quick to follow as the two of them quickly pulled away from Gotham's latest sky scraping structure. It wasn't long after that before she was back in her mother's care, for lack of a better word, and her father was once again off to God knows where. She couldn't remember when she got her smile back, no doubt rather as quickly as always, and her silly dreams resurfaced soon after.

Robin mightily shook her head back and forth as she took to the sky under her own power, the jade aura beneath her feet and surrounding her body both subdued and strong as more of the city's skyline became open to her eyes. The tableau of the centuries old city merged beautifully with the red-and-orange sunrise appearing from the east, the light slowly beginning to bathe the metropolitan surroundings with an almost ethereal glow. Stephanie made certain to focus on it for only a moment, well aware that there were far more important things to be worried about right now than childish fancies.

_A whole new world. . . That's where we'll be. . . _

She let the sound of her mother's song wash over her as she set foot onto the roof of the tower, her slight form now 1,600 feet above where she was only a few seconds ago. It wasn't Gotham and it wasn't her dream but it would do for now.

"Top of the world," she said to the early morning sky. "Too bad the only options now are to stay right here or fall back down."

Her eyes widened upon finding a waking example of the old adage only a moment after she turned around.

"BRUCE!"

A small part of Stephanie's rational mind realized that The Batman looked tired but still hearty, a clear indication that her boss had been taken care of despite his currently restrained state. Of course, the vast majority of her was far too caught up in the thrill of realizing that the broody, ill-tempered, and anti-social asshole was still among the living. Her rushed flight came to a stop only inches away from the wooden slab that Bruce had been confined to, the golden rings of energy encircling the man's forearms, legs, neck, and shoulders all serving as considerable warnings to stay away. Those admonitions, however, did nothing to stop the fair-haired Gothamite from doing her best to wrap The Batman in her small arms as much as she could, the Green Lantern almost feeling the sting of tears in her eyes as her hands met at Bruce's upper back.

"You're okay," she mumbled into his torso, the words sounding like she couldn't even believe that she could say them. "You're okay."

"I've been better," Batman countered, a hidden but still measurable tinge of relief in the man's voice.

The sound of The Dark Knight's voice spurned Robin back to task once again, a determined look forming beneath her mask. "I'm gonna get you out of here. And I'm going to make sure that everybody who is responsible for this is going to pay." The stern words were suddenly blunted as Stephanie tilted her head to one side in thought. "Maybe not in that order."

"Most definitely not in that order, Miss Brown," a familiar voice interrupted, the intrusion prompting Robin to break her hold on Batman and angrily swerve around.

Sinestro gave little attention to the young Earthling's anger, the combat veteran quite experienced with the concept of so-called righteous vengeance. "Now, now, there's no need for that," he went on with a derisive click of his tongue. "I have treated Mister Wayne quite comfortably over the course of his internment. You may ask him so yourself if you feel so inclined."

Robin kept one eye on the galaxy's first Yellow Lantern while tilting her head just slightly to the right. The move was just enough to see the slightest of nods coming from the man who had taken her in when no one else would have anything to do with her.

"I have been treated well," The Batman confessed, his tone strong, sure, and allowing for no disagreement. "In fact, it's almost a shame that I'll be leaving soon."

The overlord of Qward did raise an eyebrow to that, the former intergalactic police officer surprised by the strength in the man he had put so much effort in attempting to recruit. "Then you choose to become The Batman's champion, Miss Brown?"

Robin could feel her mask stretch ever so slightly as her eyes widened.

"Yeah, but, huh?"

The clumsy words that poured from Stephanie's usually active lips caused Sinestro to let out a tired sigh as if the old warrior could not believe that he was forced to explain himself. "Do you choose to be The Batman's champion?" he repeated. "Do you choose to become the one and only soul responsible for determining whether this bastion of the old guard will be allowed to remain alive after this day is through?"

Robin couldn't help but back away just a step as the co-leader of The Sinestro Corps came closer, the refined quality of the alien's features made that much more imposing by the power that seemed to radiate from every inch of his body.

"Simply put, do you wish to put this man's life into your hands?"

Stephanie once again found herself momentarily unable to speak, the gravity behind the meaning of the words just a little too strong to allow her lips to move.

"She will."

The fourth person to don the mantle of Robin could feel a cold pit begin to grow in her stomach as she turned to face Bruce Wayne, the sense of foreboding nearly enough to block the sight and sound of Sinestro rising up into the sky. _This wasn't part of the deal_, she told herself. _It shouldn't be just me. I'll just screw it up. I always screw up the important stuff._

"Robin."

That single word brought Stephanie back into focus, her senses already lambasting her for burrowing herself down so far and so quickly.

But, for once, The Batman wasn't done talking.

"I will be here when you get back."

It didn't take long for at all for Stephanie to rekindle the flame that she had grown to love standing next to. She peeled off her mask with her left hand and gave her boss a playful wink while concentrating a fraction of her thoughts upon the growing core of energy that started with the ring on her finger and had come to circulate throughout the entirety of her body. Letting out a snarl as she bound the piece of cloth back around her eyes, the longtime dreamer could feel the small explosion of eldritch energy pooling at her feet before she rocketed upward to meet one of the galaxy's most renowned warriors.

Most would have thought it to be a rather daunting task.

To Stephanie Brown, it was just another staircase up that building.

"All right, Grape Ape," she said while a ball of energy began to form in front of her right palm. "Let's do this shit."

* * *

As the familiar bedlam of the battlefield broke out in front of him once again, The Martian Manhunter couldn't help but think back to the time he had asked Batman to describe how his younger charges behaved on the battlefield. He recalled being quite interested to hear that his old friend found the fighting style of The Black Dog to be quite similar to the combination of skills and techniques that he had spent decades honing first as a member of The Manhunters and then through his three decades on Earth and as a member of various formations of the Justice League. In fact, his fellow detective had been quick to go into detail about how the young man employed his many gifts in order to become an organized force in even the most chaotic of front lines, his old friend taking particular pride in how Mister Thomas made certain never to rely on a single one of his talents for a prolonged period of time.

Now that he could see it all in full display, J'onn J'onnz finally realized just how much of a compliment those words truly were. He couldn't help but watch for a moment as the little hellion, this boy of barely 20 years, left many of the dark half of his kind confused and flustered over what to do with him, the lashings of his blade, and the bolts of energy that poured from his eyes and his fingertips. The last of the Green Martians let out a breath as his colleague spun around the right side of his latest opponent before sliding his blade through the bottom of the creature's spinal cord. The anguished howl of The Black Dog's latest victim almost coincided with the grunts of another pair of opponents flung against the tall stairwell with a strong dose of telepathy and the immolation of yet one more foe with a vicious blast of energy that spat from the youth's extended right palm.

Of course, this wasn't to say that J'onn was anywhere near ready to sit back and watch the exhibition. Indeed, he soon used his impressive elasticity to bend himself over triple in order to avoid a vicious forward dash by one of his fanged quarry, the blast of Martian vision to follow no doubt forcing his hasty opponent to regret his impatient actions. His body continued to remain fluid in order to dodge the blows of two other White Martians that appeared through the eastern wall, his pliant skin bending like a rubber band before becoming taut enough in order to hammer his attackers with haymakers that sent them crashing through the wall they had phased through only moments before. He then managed to ensnare another challenger within his clutches as The Black Dog teleported to his back, the veteran warrior's left hand quickly shifting into a sickle blade that was quick to cut through the neck of his recently confined quarry.

"Y'know, as classy and dramatic as that entrance of yours turned out to be," The Black Dog declared while defending his comrade's blind side, "it didn't do much to answer my question."

J'onn couldn't help but smile just a little as a half-dozen of their foes began to circle around them. Deciding that talking would be too much of a distraction, the warrior chose to go with a more familiar route.

"_I chose to infiltrate The Silver Coyote's forces in order to better determine the extent of the forces that he has at his disposal," _he replied with the aid of his telepathy while four of their foes leapt forward with the remainder rushing in just behind. _"The Batman and I had previously agreed that such an avenue should be employed if we discovered that our original hypothesis proved to be incorrect."_

"_Makes sense to me," _Lloyd thought back in response while working with J'onn to summon a telekinetic jolt that seared the skin off half of their available adversaries. _"Of course, that answer doesn't really explain just why you're sportin' so many bumps and bruises."_

J'onn could feel the curdling of his own thoughts while a twinge of soreness began to leak from his still tender ribcage. The twinge grew into a lance of pain as one of his brethren managed to land an elbow to the gut before he could manage to snap the monster's neck.

"_I heard about the battles in Alaska and at The Watchtower," _Lloyd elaborated, his candor soft despite all the noise around them. _"Ya never let the wounds heal, did ya?"_

Silence reigned in the minds of the two telepaths as they continued to combat the rising odds. A stream of solar energy that pushed through Lloyd's eyes was quick to incinerate another of the pale-skinned warriors while three others only barely managed to phase their bodies through the white-hot beam. A telekinetic force barrier created by J'onn was just as effective in removing another of their adversaries, the transparent shield reflecting a blast of Martian vision back at its source. Five more of the bloodthirsty warriors quickly moved to take the place of the fallen, the additional numbers making the situation somehow even more unmanageable.

"_So you have expressed your feelings for Miss Zor-el," _J'onn said calmly, his mind calmly sifting the well-controlled turmoil in the mind of his young comrade. _"I am glad to hear of it."_

"_J'onn," _Lloyd tried to interrupt.

"_I've been on your planet for 31 years now, Mister Thomas, and I have spent so much of that time watching people look for a reason not to connect with those around them," _The Martian Manhunter went on as the number of stalking White Martians ratcheted up to two dozen. _"How sad it is that we fail to see what little time we may have for those we care for until we see that time cut short before our eyes."_

Lloyd shut his eyes as the once furtive movements of his surrounding foes began to quiet down. It was as if everyone was waiting for some unspoken signal and he was the last one to pick up on it.

"_Vincent figured out that you were here, didn't he?"_

The Black Dog could hear the sigh that slowly crept through J'onn's lips.

"_This is my punishment for attempting to infiltrate The Silver Coyote's forces, a penalty that I will willingly pay for the information I have managed to procure."_

An enormous, telekinetic shockwave erupted from Lloyd's angry thoughts, the force of the blast scattering the dozens of entranced opponents. It wasn't enough to eliminate any of the elements within the depressing equation set in front of him, the White Martians quick to recover as the inevitability began to sink into him once again.

"There's got to be another way to do this," Lloyd growled through gritted teeth. "Maybe call in some reinforcements from Gotham. . ."

"_I too had a brother that chose to lose himself in ambition, glory, and hatred_," J'onn broke in, his mind's voice remaining calm but now carrying an authoritative undercurrent. _"For so long I struggled and strained to help him see what he had become and tried to help him remember what he used to be."_

Lloyd's grip on his saber began to relax and his posture began to straighten. In response, the cavalcade of White Martians also began to unwind, their hisses and exhalations growing softer in the escalating silence.

"_I lost a great many people due to my hope and desperation to save Ma'alefa'ak, Lloyd Thomas. Those who were my friends and colleagues and those that I hoped would be so someday. However, I ultimately realized that my only hope for either I or my brother to find peace is to do what needed to be done in order to keep the home I love the way it is."_

Lloyd said nothing as he began to slowly rise upward, his feet slowly leaving the familiar marble floor that seemed to house so many of his memories. He chose to say nothing as he continued to drift higher, recognizing that no words would properly honor what Mars's greatest champion had chosen to do for him. He made sure to take a moment to watch as the dozens of Pale Martians closed in on The Martian Manhunter, their fangs salivating with the opportunity to sink their teeth into and through their long-chosen enemy. Then, with a strangled scream, he burst his way through the roof of the lobby as he rocketed skyward.

J'onn J'onzz couldn't help but smile as he did whatever else he could. His fists and feet were a blur as he temporarily batted aside one pallid beast after the other. Of course, the ones that broke through his furtive defenses were quick to their work, the bloodthirsty beasts punching, biting and clawing through his increasingly weary body.

_The young should never have to die for the crimes of generations past_, J'onn contemplated as he felt his left lung being ripped apart. _Kara, Lloyd, Stephanie, Wally. . . all of you. Please continue your fight to allow those I love to live life on their own terms._

* * *

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

He said that he never wanted it to come to this.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

Lloyd didn't let up as he bashed his way through one empty floor after the other, the shattering of brick and steel filling him with the slivers of pain he would soon hope to deliver a thousand fold. The words that his brother told him at Manvers continued to echo through his mind as he rose higher and higher.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

It was nothing but a lie. Just another falsehood from someone he thought to be a loved one designed to persuade him to do what they wanted him to do.

_BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

This was the last. J'onn was the last.

* * *

He could barely feel the pain that sprouted from his body now, the tearing of claws and fangs and the bludgeoning of fists and solid heat all but lingering agonies within the haze. His mind was focused on the item strapped to his waist, a gift given to him by Bruce shortly after Ra's Al-Ghul had attempted to use The Dark Knight's own security protocols to eliminate The Justice League in one fell swoop. His good friend had called it a last resort, a horrific measure that, upon finishing the construction of it, was something that he could trust only to the creature it was designed to destroy.

It was, for all intents and purposes, an area bomb. However, as one would most likely imagine, it was something far more than a simple incendiary. The device would, upon activation, emit a chemical concoction that was specifically designed to invade and eliminate vital aspects of a Martian's body chemistry. That vicious chain reaction, compounded with the mixture's violent response when exposed to oxygen, would produce what J'onn hoped to be a fitting end for the last remnants of this tragic evolutionary link.

He only needed what remained of his telekinesis to activate it. However, as a forceful haymaker landed on the center of his chest and the broken remnants of a two shattered ribs punctured his heart, The Martian Manhunter couldn't help but let his mind drift just a little bit more.

_I am J'onn J'onnz. _

His sights were nothing but a sea of white and red.

_I was the last of my kind to be alive and free._

He did his best to smile.

_I can only hope there was a reason for that._

* * *

The Black Dog felt his former home being rocked by the massive explosion erupting from the ground floor and spiraling upward through the rubble below him, the cacophony mixing with his own destruction as he crashed his way up the 72 floors that would ultimately lead to his destination. He arrived only seconds later, the sight of the figure in Mao's old chair serving as a cruel mockery of all the dismay that was taking place the world over. Dropping his boot-covered feet down onto the lushly carpeted floor, Lloyd bent his knees and positioned himself into a traditional Kento stance, his blood-stained saber at the forefront. When he spoke, it was with a growl that held all the scraping and rasp manner that could only come from either the truly determined or the truly wounded.

"Get out of that chair."

The Silver Coyote was quick to oblige, his long legs swinging effortlessly as he dislodged himself from the plush, leather seating. Employing his telekinesis to draw his katana from its scabbard, the silver-haired assassin let out an almost relieved smile.

"Alone at last," he grumbled while giving his blade a few practice swings. "I apologize for the unscheduled welcoming committee. However, they never would have been there if the late Mister J'onnz hadn't gone and broken the rules of the game."

A distinct growl rose from The Black Dog's lungs, the sound of another excuse causing his blood to literally boil in his gut. "No more justifications, big brother," he said as his normally hazel eyes adopted a familiar gray tinge. "No more lies, no more regrets, and no more words."

Vincent Culp smiled.

"Indeed."

At some unseen signal, The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote both charged forward.

* * *

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_Misfits Confidential_

Well, what do you know? I can actually write an issue that isn't less than 10,000 words! Of course, this one had fairly little of that long-winded talking I'm so eager to write about. Ah well, maybe next issue!

Oh, and for the record, I was planning on killing J'onn well before _Final Crisis #1 _ever saw the light of day. Just like Knockout, I love this character to death but the fact of the matter is that I've found that, sometimes, you've got to write about stuff that you don't really want to write if you want a story to come out as good as you hope it to be. I hope you guys liked it, if not necessarily enjoyed it, and I hope to hear your feedback about anything else that strikes your fancy. I'm pretty jazzed that this story has gone on as long as it has and I hope to keep right on going.

Once again, a big load of thanks to Rachel, Ryan, Shawn, Leigh, Wolvmbm, Protector of Canon, Captain Deadpool, Andrew Talon, and all the others who have encouraged me to keep on writing this story for far longer than I ever thought I could. And, as a reward, how about a next issue preview?

_________________________________________________________________________________

Issue #76 Preview

As the test of Earth's four greatest champions continues, the war for Earth begins in earnest as Kyle Rayner prepares to lead an assault on the planet Qward while Nightwing readies himself to take on an invasion force of his own. What surprises from the past will be awaiting The Torchbearer of The Green Lantern Corps as he descends into Sinestro's home world? What unexpected arrivals may put a bit of a thundercloud over Dick Grayson's increasingly larger parade? Find out the answers to these questions and watch the battles continue to unfold in two weeks time with the next installment of _The Misfits_: The Great Ax Falls. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	76. The Great Ax Falls

Issue #76

The Great Ax Falls

_Gotham Memorial Hospital _

Doctor Leslie Thompkins officially needed a break. She wasn't entirely sure of what, specifically, she needed a break from or to what extent the break should be but the fact remained that she certainly needed some time off. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that it had been weeks since she had heard any news of the whereabouts of one Bruce Wayne and that lack of information concerning the mysterious man that she had helped look after since he was five had caused her heart to hurt. Perhaps it could be due to the reality that she had spent nearly thirty-six consecutive hours doing what she could to tend to her patients, a growing array of those who had become casualties to not only whatever these monsters had in store for the world but also to those little evils that everyday life always seemed ready to bring down upon them.

Of course, it wasn't lost on her that she had spent the last 50 years of her life doing this, a life of seemingly nothing more than patching up holes that just seemed to open up again the moment she turned away.

"All these people. All these hurt, wounded, and suffering. Did any of them ask for any of this to happen?" the old woman asked aloud to both herself and the silent, night sky. "Did any of them _deserve _it?"

The veteran physician had been looking for the answer to those questions for much of her long life. The inquiries were coming slow and steady even before her decision to enter Dartmouth Medical School, times spent poring over her books with her classmates and waxing poetic about what life was really all about with the smell of tobacco smoke and the sounds of Percy Faith, Joni James, and Ella Fitzgerald egging their rebellious thoughts forward. It still amazed her that those queries somehow grew stronger when a single boy, a child who had once bawled loudly and longly while suffering from nothing more severe than a skinned knee, had chosen to painfully dig into the streets of Gotham wearing armor and a cape. She had watched a little boy grow into a man who continuously tested everything she thought humanity could be, is, and was already and now he wasn't even here to argue with her.

_It's not right_, grumbled a rather dark part of Doctor Leslie Thompkins. _An old woman shouldn't have to go through something like this. _

"Gee, doc," grumbled a rough but fairly friendly voice. "Somethin' tells me you don't want to be thinkin' so hard. Lord knows you've got enough wrinkles on that old mug of yours."

Leslie let out a familiar sigh as the sound of a snicker and the squeak of a wheelchair had snuck into her ears. Turning around to meet the source of all the noise, she pondered over who she would have to reprimand for allowing Rose Wilson to have access to something that would allow the silver-haired teen to leave the confines of her hospital bed. After all, it had been enough trouble trying to quiet down all the wasteful chatter centered on just how the girl who had been wheeled in only two weeks ago with the vast majority of her bones broken was somehow still alive. The last thing she needed was to waste the time she would need to calm down the flustered interns and rookie doctors and their gossip about the "angry, little miracle child". On the other hand, given the sloppy shattering of the cast around Rose's right arm, the same limb currently responsible for pushing the wheels on her chair forward, the old woman thought it was safe to say that whoever had made the decision had done so under distinct duress.

"I'm gonna take a guess here," Rose declared while placing her hand off the wheel to her left and on to the one to her right. "You're thinking about why we all can't just think like you an' live in happy, fluffy peace with rainbows and puppies and Christmas."

The old woman let out a grunt, annoyed that her patient's cloying words had hit so close to the mark.

"You really shouldn't be out of your bed, Miss Wilson."

"Yeah, that's what those other egg-sucking eggheads said too," Ravager wheezed out as she finally made her way to the window, the daughter of Slade Wilson casting a somewhat interested glance at the setting sun and the orange and purple clouds around it. "Of course, they changed their tunes when I said that I would slit their necks with my fingernails if they didn't let me out of there."

Leslie shut her eyes and shook her head back and forth, the good humor in the young woman's words falling well short of being shared.

"They thought I was just joking but then I flicked my right thumbnail across my bed pan so that it would leave a nice-sized scratch along the left side," Rose went on with a self-satisfied grin, the young mercenary well aware of what her words were doing to her audience. "_That _definitely got their attention."

"How can you live like this?" Doctor Thompkins finally asked, the strength in the woman's weathered eyes and voice quickly shutting the younger woman up. "All of you are hurting each other, forcing the world to fall down right on top of you and everybody else and you still sit there acting like this is some kind of game."

Rose raised her eyebrows out of respect for all the anger and vitriol, the thin, pale yellow lines of hair looking just a bit more in place than usual what with the emergence of the blonde roots on the top of her head.

"None of us asked for all of this garbage that you're putting us through!" Doctor Thompkins spat. "It isn't as if we don't have enough things to deal with but now you have to play your little power games and force us to carry the load you're too busy to worry about. Don't you realize it's hard enough just to take care of what we already have to do to make it through the day?"

"Do you _really _think we wanted this?" Ravager shot back, the volume behind her words momentarily silencing her attacker. "'Cause if you do then you're clearly not as much of a know-it-all as you make yourself out ta be!"

Doctor Thompkins' eyes only narrowed further, the veteran caretaker having long grown weary of hearing similar defenses from those who had sought violence instead of peace.

"I'd love to just sit back and relax," Rose continued, a twitch of gentility in her normally abrasive tone. "Maybe use all this weird-ass shit bumbling around in my head just for fun but the bottom line is that people like me don't get to live in that kind of world."

"People like _you_." Leslie repeated, a distinct note of disgust seemingly poured directly into that final word. "So that's your excuse? The world is like that and you just had to roll with the tide. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

"A little bit," Rose confessed. "In fact, I'd say it's about as silly as someone saying they're not gonna fight for what they've earned 'cause they don't think violence is the answer." The mercenary couldn't help but smile as the woman to her right rolled her eyes in annoyance, the spark of defiance quite the sight to see.

"There's always gonna be someone who wants a little bit more than what they're given," the woman known as Ravager went on. "An' maybe the guy or gal throwin' the first punch deserves a little bit more and maybe they've got a damn good reason to fight for it but the bottom line is that the people they're aimin' for usually aren't the ones that take the hit. It's people like you, the weirdos and morons who actually want to make the world a little better than it used to be."

As she gave Leslie some time to mull that over, Rose felt her mind drift back to one of her darker memories. It was her reminiscence of two people lying on a familiar kitchen floor with puddles of blood pooling and growing beneath their still bodies. She liked to think that she knew what those two were all about. She knew they were annoying as hell, were prone to ask for way too much out of her, and that her adoptive parents had done everything they could to give her a normal life. Her two weeks of lying and thinking in that wretched hospital bed gave her a lot of time to think about things like that. She also thought about her real father, the man who had sacrificed so much to give her that shot at dull but true happiness, had tried to take the blame for that horror, her old man dredging up some convoluted story about how he had organized the hit in order to bring his lone remaining child closer to him.

Now she knew that only a fool blinded by loss would believe such a thing. She knew it just as much now as her father did back then. Slade Wilson wasn't responsible for the death of Holly and Richard Madison. That horrific crime was just DeFarge's merciless and pathetic attempt to take something he couldn't earn on his own.

And Rose Wilson didn't need her father's teachings to convince her that people like that just pissed her off.

"Y'know, something," the teen said quietly, the anger now having died down on both sides as the two women stared wistfully at the Gotham skyline. "I wanted to be a doctor before all of. . . this. Y'know. Like my mom."

Leslie once again turned to cast a glance at her unusual company, a fellow squatter on the sidelines of the war that was coming to the city she hated and loved.

"That would have been nice."

* * *

_Crime Alley_

Nightwing knew that he could hardly claim to be the master of all he surveyed. However, as he overlooked the enormous array of soldiers and warriors who had apparently chosen to cast their lot with him, the former understudy of The Batman couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of himself.

The thousands of green lights around and above him had turned the normally dank night skies of Gotham into something out of a bizarre Disney movie. Of course, Dick didn't dare forget that each one of those illuminations stood for a hero, a brave soul who had chosen to fight this war when they could have just as easily chosen another battleground. The mere thought that all these creatures were looking to him for guidance and leadership, beings that could most likely destroy him a hundred times over, was quite a fear-inspiring consideration for the twice-failed leader who had run back to his father with his tail tucked between his legs. On the other hand, the boy who had fearlessly cast himself onto the high ropes and off the rooftops of Gotham City found the opportunity to be downright exhilarating.

Dick turned his eyes back down to the ground in order to observe the others who were preparing for war alongside him. Of course, his first memorable sight just had to be the face and figure of Talia Al-Ghul, the leader of what remained of The League of Assassins busying herself with organizing her troops. As far as Nightwing was concerned, the strength in the woman's eyes and the way her body seemed to mold into her black battle armor did not looking the least bit attractive to him. Nope. Not a bit.

He quickly turned to the right, a slight smile emerging on his otherwise stern countenance upon catching Cecilia, Nigel, and Roy gathered alongside Cassandra Cain and the remaining members of The Secret Six. Offering a quick prayer for the safety of that motley crew of freaks who had become friends, his mind started to once again kick into gear as he began to review defensive measures and formation strategies designed to make his entreaties come true.

"HEY! ARE YOU LISTENIN' TO ME, YA LITTLE PUNK?!"

Oh, and lest hwe forget, it also helped him take another few seconds to avoid the angry, fat man who had been basically screaming at him for the last 90 seconds.

"Yes, I'm listening to you and I'm going to tell you the same thing I told you the last three times you asked the question," Nightwing answered with a surprising degree of calmness. "There's no way that I'm going to let all of you stay here and fight."

His declaration was met with quite the deluge of boos and jeers. However, few or none of them came from the thousands of Green Lanterns above or the hundreds of mercenaries and professional soldiers on the streets. They came from the hundreds of citizens who had shown up on the battlefield. Nightwing could recognize some familiar faces in the crowd, mostly thanks to his many past associations with the men and women of the Gotham City Police Department, but most of them were people he couldn't even begin to distinguish. However, the fact remained that they were clearly here for a fight and were not about to take no for an answer and that truth had been made clear by the person they had chosen to be their spokesman.

"And who da hell said you had a right to tell us what we can and can't do?!" Harvey Bullock all but spat out, the ever-present toothpick trapped between his teeth coming dangerously close to falling out of his exceedingly loud mouth. "This is our home, kid, an' we're not about to let a bunch of hooded freaks and yahoos from outer space take care of the streets that we've been livin' on. Hell, I've been getting _my _hands dirty cleanin' up these streets ever since your old man Bats was changin' your Pampers so maybe _I _should be in charge of all of dis!"

A loud cheer erupted from much of Bullock's companions, the harsh Brooklyn intonations of the head of GCPD's Major Crimes Unit apparently quite appealing to the surrounding Gothamites. Resisting an urge to let out a sigh and shake his head or maybe laugh like he would have the first time he met up with the portly, hard-nosed gumshoe, he thought of his father as he narrowed his eyes.

"This isn't your responsibility," Nightwing said coldly. "Your job is to help protect the citizens of Gotham, not irresponsibly drag them out straight to the slaughter."

To his credit, Dick's words, and the tone behind him, caused quite a few of the surrounding citizenry to give pause. Unfortunately, the effect it had on the man he was trying to convince was all but nonexistent, the inflexible detective apparently having long grown irritated by the harsh words of masked vigilantes.

"Da Commish has already got plenty of good people making sure that everybody gets rounded up safe and sound," Bullock answered calmly but forcefully. "Ain't none of these people are here against their will and ain't none of us leavin' until we get a piece of those mudsnortin' jackoffs who think they can push us around!"

"And you would risk the lives of the people who are already willingly putting their lives on the line to keep all of you safe?" Nightwing shot back through gritted teeth, his words somehow managing to carry over the cheers of support that came from Bullock's words. "These aren't car jackers and hoods with .45's, Bullock! This is the most dangerous army in the galaxy and I can't be responsible for putting the people of Gotham in more danger than they're already in."

"Nobody's askin' ya to be responsible for us," Bullock countered while pointing a stubby ring finger straight at the man he was talking to. "An' what about those government SWAT guys suitin' up back there?" he asked while turning his wrist to point at the contingent of Checkmate agents who were busy arming themselves with the mass produced spectral manipulation equipment provided by Noah Kuttler. "They don't look too fancy schmancy ta me! In fact, I bet they're just regular joes and janes with a bunch of fancy equipment so howz about you give some of what you're not usin' over ta us so we can show 'em how to handle things here in Gotham!"

By now, Nightwing had long felt the desire to call Hal Jordan and let him come down and deal with the noisy, and increasingly persuasive, crowd in front of him. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't have enough to deal with already. . .

"Those of you who want to fight, please report to the sergeants at the front of the equipment trucks to your left," reported Amanda Waller, the words put forth by the White Queen of Checkmate quickly silencing the mob. "And please bear in mind that most of you will be relegated to field medics and clearers but there is a place here for you if you're willing to pay the consequences."

Bullock let out what could have been considered a smile while many of the surrounding citizens of Gotham cheered while following the orders of the stern military official.

"Lady, that suits us just fine," Bullock said with a chomp of his teeth before stalking off, the rotund crime fighter not even paying a bit of attention to the fuming Nightwing as he went to prepare for whatever was coming. Meanwhile, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a brief wave of nausea and irritation as he realized just what had taken place. He was quick to turn and take his frustrations out on the closest target available but the calm, neutral expression on Amanda Waller's face stifled his actions for just long enough.

"We all thought that something like this could happen," Waller said with a stern clarity, her tone scarily similar to Batman's. "If anything else, my men can do what they can to reduce civilian casualties. The rest of the stuff, all the big stuff, is still in your court."

Dick raised his eyebrow at that, the optimism and good humor built up over nearly two decades of dealing with his father's eternal pessimism quickly raising his spirits. "Do you think he would have made the same decision?" he asked with just a tinge of curiousity.

Waller's chubby cheeks expanded with her hesitance before she made her reply. "Absolutely. If anything else, he would have done so if only to keep his mind on the true mission."

Nightwing quirked his lips at that, the young detective pondering over the proof behind Waller's particular hypothesis.

"Of course," The Wall went on. "He also would have done a great deal more brooding and grumbling instead of employing reason like you did."

Nightwing couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, the gesture a necessary bit of relief from what was to come. "Did you hear that he's alive?"

Dick could have sworn to see just a hint of a smile on Waller's face. "Indeed I have," the veteran government worker replied. "I imagine you're quite pleased to hear it."

The man in the domino mask sighed while rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's just one less thing to worry about right now," he said with a hint of fatigue. "Now the only thing that's left to think about is whether we win or lose this thing. The rest of it can only be sorted out later."

"I've often found the threat of imminent death to be rather comforting," Waller confessed before the two leaders returned to their business.

* * *

_207,000 kilometers from Qward's ionosphere_

Despite having spent nearly four years as an intergalactic superhero, Kyle Rayner couldn't help but be momentarily distracted by the sea of green that surrounded him. As the stark sight of Sinestro's home world became clearer and clearer, Ion wondered just how he could have possibly brought such a sight to paper or where he would even begin to start. Maybe he'd just go something on a large scale, like something from Andreas Gursky, with a whole bunch of exteriorization. That would help to focus on the grand light illuminating the deep well of space around him rather than the thousands of creatures responsible for bringing that illumination into being.

Hell, maybe John Romita Jr. could give him some pointers. After all, The Torchbearer of The Green Lantern Corps had always been curious about just how he would look in a comic book.

The sizzle of anti-matter energy was quick to bring Kyle's thoughts back on the task at hand, the searing heat somehow managing to not only pierce the inky gloom but also peck at the shielding provided by his augmented power ring. Dipping into not only his time manipulation abilities but also the deep reservoir of his fertile imagination, Ion did what he could to reduce the damage wrought by the opening security measure. He needed little of his energy or effort to protect himself from what Qward's defenses had to throw at him, the power that Parallax had attempted to corrupt and take for its own enabling Rayner to weave his way around the enormous wells of white-hot force with an almost instinctual efficiency. Some of his fellow Lanterns weren't as fortunate, of course, the opening salvo burning through the protective barriers of several handfuls of his fellow invaders before he could work with those who survived to work up a defense that could stave off the cannon fire.

Kyle had tried to get used to the inevitability of death. He really did. It was the least that he could do for so many of the people who had helped him become what he was. Alexandra, Jade, his mother. Every face and every memory, just as it always had, had always been a big reason why he was able to perform all the incredible feats that he was capable of.

He still doesn't think of himself as a soldier, even after the so many times he had been asked to and chosen to dive headlong into situations such as these. His reluctance to think that this was what his life had become had earned him a fair share of insults from Guy Gardner and some healthy words of warning from John, Kilowog, and many other Lanterns who were happy to warn him about the dangers of causing your mind to stray. As compelling as those efforts were, however, it was the words of another of his fellow Lanterns that kept him from fully turning down that particular path.

_It's not everybody's job to be the soldier. Without the dreamers hanging around, we soldiers can have a hard time remembering just why the hell we're out here in the first place._

"Thanks, Hal," Kyle said within his force cocoon as he hurtled and swerved around everything that Qward had to throw at him. The attacks he could not avoid were deflected with the aid of a complicated array of spectral creations ranging from an enormous image of The Man of Steel to an energy shield that looked a great deal like the head and neck of a prehistoric beast, an idea pilfered straight from one of the mecha in the old _Super Sentai _shows. Even in the darkest of times, the artist knew he could always find comfort in concocting the images that he loved to draw, his near-boundless creativity and willingness to create proving to be fine substitutes for his perceived lack of warrior's instincts. If anything else, those things were something he knew that he could always return to once all the madness around him was done, something that he would never have to truly leave behind.

Unlike the rest of his comrades in the Corps, who, judging from the distance between him and the rest of his comrades, appeared to be having a great deal of trouble keeping pace with him.

"_Looks like you're holdin' up all right," _pointed out Kilowog, the veteran Lantern apparently having enough time to check in on his former student while making his own way through the chaos. _"Want to wait for the rest of us to catch up though?"_

The younger Green Lantern couldn't help but feel a little bit sheepish as he began to double back. Bringing his reality twisting powers to bear, Ion's black, star-filled facemask glowed with the intensity of his efforts to shift the energy signatures rising from Qward's surface. Twisting the surrounding electromagnetic frequency just far enough to circumvent the structural integrity of a small fraction of Sinestro's initial wave of defenses, his efforts saved the lives of several dozen Lanterns and eased the path of travel for nearly a hundred more. Feeling a hint of pride from the success of his creative approach, the young illustrator let the emotion wash over him as another familiar voice sounded out through the Corps' neural network.

"_Do not forget what Sinestro will most likely have in store for all of you," _warned Ganthet, the voice of the eldest of the Guardians of the Universe sounding as clear as a clarion bell to the thousands of Lanterns surging forward. _"The use of the anti-matter well springs is most likely nothing more than an effort to weaken your defenses along with your resolve. Sinestro will most likely use the distraction in order to allow his troopers the best opportunity to gain an advantage."_

The cautionary words of the keeper of the Oa Power Battery were quick to come true as an array of energy signatures made their presence felt just outside the border of Qward's troposphere. The ring around Ion's finger was able to count nearly four thousand of the orange-skinned marauders before the army of Qwardian mercenaries and bounty hunters had closed in upon them, the exchange of energy fire quick to slightly ratchet up the death toll on both sides.

Nearly a dozen of the alien warriors came straight for him, their courage doubtlessly spurred on by some enormous bounty that Sinestro or his planetside generals had set out for his death or internment. Of course, it only took a fraction of his temporal manipulation abilities to make it appear to his foes that he had long since disappeared from their sights, a distraction that gave him more than enough time for Ion to form his counterattack. Spurning his memories of video games past, Rayner summoned a litany of spectral monsters to his aid that ranged from ice goddesses to hellfire spewing beasts to a dragon who breathed flares of solar energy while still managing to keep its muscular arms crossed across his chest to even a swarm of odd looking birds that screamed "WAAARK!" as they stampeded over Kyle's former pursuers and several dozen more of the hired guns around them.

_Huh. I bet Rydia would have thought of that_, Ion mused while thinking about where to go next. _Yuna probably would have too before Tidus died and she started wearing short shorts and lost all of her dignity and self-respect. _

"_I must admit that your creativity never ceases to amaze me, Mister Rayner," _Graf Toren pronounced, the veteran soldier and battlefield trainer managing to catch up with his fellow Corps leader with an impressive display of aerial acrobatics. _"I'm not certain what to make of those feathered creatures with the abnormally sized beaks, however."_

Kyle was ready to fire back that the people who made them didn't seem like they did either but he was a bit too busy dealing with another swarm of orange-skinned mercenaries. The golden rays of radiation energy that spat forth from the barrels of the aliens' energy pistols could only nick at Ion's sturdy defenses while the combination of a quick speed boost and a well-built force barrier kept Kyle's Karazian partner safe from harm. The two Green Lanterns were quick to respond as Graf's impressive creation of a variety of jade energy webs kept their overpowered foes far too occupied to fend off a magnetic shockwave created by the ring of The Torchbearer. The intense force of the pulse was quite successful in knocking several dozen of Sinestro's troopers for a loop, the lack of gravity and the inability to grab a hold of their momentum leaving the mercenaries in no condition to impede anyone from reaching the surface of their home world.

The third wave of anti-matter energy to rise from Qward's surface was quick to follow, the shorter distance between them and their attackers making it a great deal more difficult for Oa's warriors to avoid what Sinestro had left for them to play with. As a matter of fact, the energy that was required for many of the Green Lanterns to either avoid or deflect the intense waves of energy left many of them wide open for the next surprise. Short beams and lances of energy of nearly every color were quick to follow the massive array of cannon fire, the more concentrated shots slicing through the force barriers and bodies of dozens of Lanterns too momentarily fatigued to properly defend themselves. Even more began to fall as another wave of troopers roared up ready to fight, a crowd that seemed a great more diverse and dangerous than the Qwardian death guards who had come before them.

Toren and Rayner had been quite fortunate to hold their portion of the line, their composure under fire serving them well as they held off the attacks coming their way. Rayner let loose another eldritch convulsion of energy while keeping an eye on the orange-skinned monk as Toren repelled two of their unusual attackers with an array of forearm blocks and thrust kicks taken straight from the teachings of the Spider Guild.

"_What the hell is all of this?!" _Ion roared while continuing to hold off more than his fair share of the confusion around him. _"Does anybody have any idea just who these guys are?"_

"'_Fraid I do, Rayner," _Kilowog grumbled, his telepathic response quite clear despite being nearly thousands of yards away. _"I just dropkicked a guy named Az-Rel and the poozer I've got in front of me right now goes by the name of Doctor Xadu. They're two of my old sparrin' buddies from back before even 'Fly Boy' got a hold of his ring."_

"_And just what is that supposed to mean to us, old friend?" _Toren asked firmly while only barely managing to avoid a blast of familiar looking red energy.

"_Well, nuthin',_" Kilowog replied with a barely more hospitable grumble. _"Unless ya know that the last known location for both of those guys was The Phantom Zone."_

* * *

_Barcelona_

A pair of cumulus clouds nearly two miles above the city collapsed within themselves, the eldritch heat generated by the two battling warriors far too intense for the visible masses of water vapor to remain in their peaceful states. Indeed, the entire morning sky seemed to be set ablaze in green and gold as Sinestro and Stephanie Brown zipped into and out of each other's lines of sight, the two clever fighters searching for any available open avenue of attack. Little success had yet to be found by either side, the combatants far too skilled in their craft to fall for the opening prods and assessments that they had been resorting to so far. Their target was always moving just a little too quickly, their opponent was just a foot or two too far away, or the risk of staying in one place too long was far too great.

Believe it or not, Stephanie was quite happy with the state of affairs. A temporary stalemate not only fit into her knack for striking hard and fast when the opportunity arose but was also a much brighter outcome than the last time she had faced off with the dangerous alien with the silly-ass facial hair. She had been full of jokes that day, her still-burgeoning ego that had grown from nearly five months of being called a chosen one and having one of the galaxy's most powerful weapons on her finger leaving her with a disadvantage that quickly turned a no-win situation into an outright humiliation.

It wasn't Sinestro's power that caused her to feel fear on that fateful day in the Brogagandar system, really, but the way he carried himself. The mastery he displayed while deflecting her pathetic attempts at mounting an offensive while laying her low with a blistering array of energy constructs just made it seem as if the purple-skinned warrior could control everything going on around him. Add that to the damage he inflicted upon her with his sturdy hands and feet and she had nearly been reduced to the weeping girl on that hospital bed praying for The Batman to see something good in her. Yes, she was able to survive with the aid of a timely save by her comrades in the Corps but the whole event didn't stop her from realizing what she could still be.

The screw-up. The loudmouth who could never back up her words when it came time to do so. The one who didn't know what she got into until somebody else got hurt.

_But I'm not that anymore_, Robin reminded herself while the overlord of Qward cut loose with a wash wave of golden energy that was too wide for her to fully avoid. _I'll never be as good as I want to be but I can be a hell of a lot better_, she added while swerving right to avoid the high-frequency vibration blade that Sinestro had threatened to bury in her chest cavity, the previous attack clearly nothing but a stalling measure designed to distract her defenses and allow the Yellow Lantern get in close. Hastily creating her familiar energy claws in response, she let out a grunt as she trapped the same blade that had nearly killed The Batman within the left and middle blades of the claw strapped to her right hand while sending her left talon thrusting straight for Sinestro's abdomen. Her grunt quickly grew into a growl as an energy dagger warded off her lunge, the thick, yellow sliver of eldritch energy warding off her strike so that it would miss the left side of her foe's gut by several, precious inches.

"Another stalemate," Sinestro mumbled in a low whisper, the strain to win the haphazard test of strength etched all over his long face and forehead. Robin sported a similar expression as several thin drops of sweat escaped from the crown of her hairline and beginning to creep down her forehead. The slight bits of perspiration were quickly lost to the wind, however, as the two fighters broke apart and began to clash once again, the close-quarters combat sending off a spray of green and golden sparks that burnt and shattered against their bodies.

The co-leader of the Yellow Lanterns was the first to draw blood as Stephanie's failure to come out of a spinning lash quickly enough left her unable to avoid the quick strike of Sinestro's dagger, the tip of the blade slicing across the back of her left shoulder. Stephanie felt the sizzle of the energy against her skin, the hot lance of pain only inspiring her to move faster while continuing to look for an opening along her opponent's left side. Taking advantage of the lack of defensive range provided by her foe's energy dagger, she was able to goad the veteran fighter into attempting to jab the short blade through the right side of her neck. Dodging the thrust by inches, she managed to land a hit of her own with a glancing scrape across Sinestro's left quadricep, the slight spray of reddish-black blood and the even slimmer grunt that escaped from her opponent's lips quite appealing to Stephanie's senses.

The disgusted growl that rose from her opponent's lungs distracted Robin for just long enough to allow Sinestro to backpedal, his ring quick to work in letting loose a dispersion of golden energy blasts, dozens in number and each of them heading straight for her. Robin needed only a half of a second to figure out that she couldn't possibly deflect or dodge them all from that distance, the harsh lesson of one of the beams ripping through the edge of her right tricep proving her hypothesis before she managed to pull away. Realizing that she still had a problem on her hands (and roaring at her feet), she shaped the power within her ring to respond with a scatter shot of her own, the green pinpoints of energy designed to head Sinestro's attacks off at the pass. The result was a cavalcade of tiny explosions, each of them occurring further and further away from Robin as she sought to give the Sinestro Corps leader a taste of his own medicine.

Sinestro, in turn, let out a slightly arrogant grin upon realizing that the number of blasts that spat from his opponent's ring soon began to outnumber what he had chosen to produce. The jade remainders were quick to come his way, each of the bits of energy seemingly intent on punching their way through his defenses. Positioning himself into a standard Okaarian forward stance, his long, sinewy arms at the forefront, the former Green Lantern general went to work deflecting each and every one of the young woman's attacks with his long blade, the distance between him and his attacker allowing him ample enough time to pull off the impressive feat with little trouble. As the number of Robin's available aggressors began to dwindle, the Yellow Lantern quickly summoned a good portion of the energy within his internal and external batteries in order to let loose a massive force bolt that swept above his bladework before continuing to climb straight for the Terran stripling.

"OH, ASS!!" Stephanie all but howled upon seeing the golden blast heading straight for her at a speed and an angle too sharp for her to avoid. Thinking quickly, she gathered what power she already had on hand and sent it at Sinestro in the form of her own force bolt, the thin but powerful wave of energy passing above Sinestro's shot. While all that was going on, Robin did all she could to reroute the eldritch energy coursing through her body into her right hand, leaving just enough power to still remain in flight. With The Batman's exhausting spiel about concentration and focus ringing through her ears, she waited for just the right moment.

And she swatted Sinestro's attack aside with the back of her hand.

It was a trick that Lloyd had long employed and something she had been wanting to steal from him since the first time she saw him do it. And it was a truly impressive feat, her accomplishment just as impressive as Sinestro's successful attempt to deflect her own blast with the back of his _left_ hand. The two deflected blasts met nearly a mile-and-a-half away from their war zone, the impact producing an enormous explosion whose shockwave would have reduced much of the city below to rubble had the blast occurred much closer to the buildings below. The vantage point of the battle, however, left the aerial convulsions with nothing more to do but to fruitlessly crash into Sinestro and Stephanie's force shields, the two fighters far too focused on what the other was capable of doing to pay any real attention to the atmospheric disturbance.

Robin made sure to follow Sinestro as he began to make his silent descent. She made no move to attack him, just as he did not raise a finger to her. Their feet soon made purchase back on the roof of the Waynetech building, the sight of the confined Dark Knight of Gotham just 10 meters away little more than an afterthought to either of them.

"I was right to believe that this would be worth my time," Sinestro droned, his hard, neutral glare giving away nothing more but an ounce of respect and warmth. "So nice to see that at least one of my successors is capable of showing pride in their work."

Robin said nothing in response. She wanted to. Oh, holy hopping shit crystals she wanted to but she didn't want to lose whatever she had right now. She had to stay focused.

The overlord of Qward raised his thin, black eyebrows in response, mildly surprised by the lack of a so-called clever retort. Of course, decades of training and fermenting his warrior's discipline soon brought him back down to his emotional base, his countenance once again becoming smooth and relaxed. "It appears that the gap between our energy manipulation abilities is too narrow for us to decide a victor," he pronounced while once again readying his high-frequency blade. The creation of a spectral likeness of the blade in his left hand was quick to follow, the lanky powerhouse easily gripping the energy blade within his firm grasp. "Perhaps some more personal assessments will be more efficient at determining your worthiness."

Robin didn't need long at all to respond. Stretching her arms forward and her knees upward, she gave her body some time to adjust to the flow of life around her. The claws around her knuckles flared with a sharp glow, as if the blades themselves had grown intrigued by the opportunity for a good fight. She felt the pressure around her joints began to relax and her muscles began to smoothen, her move towards a _Kong Soo Do _stance looking almost effortless when it originally seemed like anything but.

"All right then," Robin replied while barely moving a muscle below her jaw line. "Whenever you're ready, teach."

* * *

_200 miles north of Ponta Delgada_

The pillars of foam and sea water that suddenly sprung up within one of the most peaceful areas of The Atlantic Ocean rose to nearly 50 feet high before once again descending towards the passive waters below. The bizarre event would prompt a great percentage of the surrounding sea life below to scatter to different parts of the planet's second largest body of water, the creatures eager to avoid whatever could cause such a disturbance. Unbeknownst to them, however, the crafters of this unusual series of maritime spectacles were too busy to witness the effects of their work, the two former friends far more distracted with beating each other to a bloody pulp.

Hunter Zolomon and Wally West had exchanged hundreds upon hundreds of punches during their 5,000 mile run from The Flash Museum, the latter man working desperately to keep what he already had while the former tried just as vigilantly to take what he believed he deserved. The overwhelming majority of these jabs, hooks, and haymakers missed their marks, their respective targets moving far too quickly for either fighter to draw even the slightest of beads. However, after nearly 70 straight misses, the crimson-garbed speedster finally hit pay dirt, The Flash letting out a grunt as he momentarily poured on the speed in order to leap past one of Zoom's right jabs. Twirling his body with a velocity that put even the most violent of hurricanes and tornadoes to shame, Wally launched a spinning back fist that sent his right knuckle slamming into the back of Zoom's head.

The impact forced a gasp from Zoom's lips as his legs struggled and then failed to keep up with their loss of momentum. His head over heels skidding along the suddenly choppy waters at several hundred miles an hour would have shattered the bones of a normal human but the combination of his time manipulation abilities and his almost eighteen months spent in The Speed Force allowed the former federal agent to merely feel as if his body was being run over by a steamroller. Far too focused on his prize to let the pain take him over, the crimson-eyed murderer quickly recovered his equilibrium as well as his running speed, his quick recovery time appearing to surprise his much-hated adversary judging from the uneven blurs of red and yellow that continued to get in his way.

"Can't help but notice that you seem to be trying pretty hard to stay in my way," Zoom all but hissed while momentarily slowing himself down, the downgrade in his hypervelocity allowing his words to be heard by the other speed merchant. "I don't suppose you're trying to keep me from saying hello to anyone, are you?"

Wally felt his teeth clack as his right knuckle crashed into Zoom's left fist, the impact produced by shared intentions causing a flare up of pain to work its way through his senses. "Just wanted to keep this between you and me," he replied, all traces of his usual good humor nowhere to be found.

Hunter couldn't help but chuckle as he continued his eastern travels with Wally close behind. "That's maybe the biggest reason why I'm taking what's rightfully mine, Wally. You're not strong enough to do what needs to be done because you spend too much time trying to do the little things. You still don't know what to do when it comes to protecting what's truly important."

Zoom could see the snarl on The Flash's face as the former Justice Leaguer came at him with a double-handed clubbing blow. Capturing the angry, unfocused strike with ease, The Silver Coyote's lieutenant employed his built up momentum in order to twist himself into a counter-clockwise barrel roll that sent Wally hurtling southward across the waves. He took just a fraction of a second to watch his adversary's travels, a dark smile creeping upon his face as The Flash's body crashed against the increasingly choppy waters along the Iberian Peninsula.

_You're not strong enough to save anyone that may get in our way, old friend_.

The Flash finally managed to catch up with his quarry nearly 100 miles past Portugal's western border, the young father's spike in velocity causing a smattering of streets and forestry to be ripped asunder by his kinetic backwash. He didn't need The Batman's deductive skills to realize that Zolomon had been waiting on him, the older man no doubt attempting to take advantage of his growing concerns in order to goad him into doing something foolish. Quickly deciding to split the difference, The Fastest Man Alive began to slowly amplify his leg speed, accelerating slowly to somewhere between Mach 4 and 5 while refusing to even throw so much as a punch until he managed to overtake Zoom's steady pace. It was his way of leaving himself wide open for an attack, his own attempt to show his former supporter that he still wanted more.

And it wasn't until Zoom showed that he was ready to fight as well that Wally West made his move. Stretching his left arm back and upward so that his elbow was adjacent to his ears, The Flash ducked underneath his adversary's left hook in a manner that would allow him to trap Zoom's forearm between his own arm and the back of his neck. A forward roll quickly robbed Zoom of his footing, thus allowing The Flash to quickly twist his adversary through a judo takedown that, at their current velocity, quickly became a throw that sent Zolomon crashing through what looked to be a bustling beer hall. Pleased that he was able to put his newfound skills to good use, it took just a bit longer than usual to realize the potential consequences behind his good work.

_The force of a 175 pound object moving at about 3,000 miles per hour. . . _

It took a sliver of a second for Wally to twist his way northwest, his strong legs quickly taking him back to the hastily annihilated foundation of the brick building he had sent Zoom crashing through. Some of the several dozen patrons inside the establishment had begun to recognize that something had gone horribly wrong and were beginning to make their way to the exits but the vast majority were still blissfully unaware of the fact that the building they were in was about to crash down around their ears. The Flash made certain to get to them first, combining his ability to render objects intangible along with his capacity for temporarily lending his speed to others in order to get one person after the other to safety.

Despite there being only 4.7 seconds between the collapse of the building's foundation and the utter destruction of the rest of the centuries old structure, The Flash had managed to employ his incredible gifts to successfully rescue all 38 of the people who had been inside when Hunter Zolomon had made his presence felt.

Then a searing pain in his lower body allowed Wally West to do more than think about the force behind a 175 pound object moving at about 3,000 miles per hour.

Zoom's chop block was quick to shatter The Flash's kneecaps, the smashing of Wally's femurs and patellas loudly sounding out through the streets of downtown Mainz. Far too focused on the pain of the original impact to control the twisting and turning of his body, The Flash had no way to control his messy, awkward impact with the cobblestone road. The awkward angle that his head had made impact with the aged stone snapped three of the upper bones of the cervical portion of his spine, the puncturing of the surrounding arteries forcing blood to quickly spill up and through Wally's sputtering lips. Now barely able to move a muscle, he could do little more but look up and see the vicious glint in Zoom's shimmering eyes.

"Looks like I was right," Zoom all but whispered.

It was almost too much effort for Wally to even close his eyes as he began to black out from the pain.

_Linda. . . I'm so sorry._

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, another semester is down the tubes for yours truly. I'd probably be celebrating but, to be brutally honest, I've spent so much damn time in the world of academia that I think I'm just getting inure to it all. Another series of finals, another appearance on the Dean's List, yadda yadda yadda. Thank God that I'm finally going to be done with it all in May because I'm in debt enough as it is.

All kidding aside, though, allow me to offer congratulations to all my fellow students for what I hope is a job well done. Let's relax a little for the holidays, ladies and gents! Maybe even give a hard-working college student some feedback? Hmmm? Hmmmmmmmm?

Okay. Now that I've got my whoring for reviews out of the way, I'm happy to announce that the end of the semester also brings me back down to a 45-hour work week. This, in turn, allows me some spare time to work on a Christmas gift for a certain Batchild and the rest of my dozens and dozens of fans. . .

* * *

_Next Update Preview_

It's Christmas Eve in Gotham City and our resident Misfits are ready to demonstrate their own, warped version of holiday spirit. Watch the insanity begin to unfold on December 14th in a special, daily-updated, 12-part series celebrating the Christmas season. We'll first take a trip down into The Batcave to visit The Dark Knight, The Fastest Man Alive, Elvis Costello, a procession of Irish musicians, and a special little guest in the first installment of _The Twelve Days of Misfits_: Track 3. Until then, remember to say what you think and. . .

Oh, wait a minute. I'm forgetting something.

* * *

_Issue #77 Preview_

Casualties are clearly already starting to stack up in the battle for Earth's survival and things have barely just gotten started. As Kyle Rayner and the rest of the Green Lantern Corps try desperately to make their way through Vincent and Sinestro's latest army of monsters, Kara struggles to deal with the awesome powers of Hank Henshaw. Meanwhile, while Nightwing's army prepares to take up the fight against the bulk of the Sinestro Corps, the battle between The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote hastens to start. All this and a profoundly messy execution in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Likely and Unlikely Champions. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	77. Likely and Unlikely Champions

* * *

Issue #77

Likely and Unlikely Champions

_Metropolis_

Kara was quite grateful that she had managed to pull her fight with the Cyborg Superman high into the skies above her cousin's adopted home. Months of training, analyzing, and measuring her strength and speed with the help of Lloyd and Mister Wayne had given her more than enough evidence to realize that the combat she had been locked in for the last ten minutes would have doubtlessly tore much of the city apart if she had allowed the battle to stay on the ground. Instead, the jarring shockwaves that bloomed to life with each landed punch and kick only succeeded in momentarily fracturing the surrounding atmosphere, a bit of damage that was quickly healed by Earth's surprisingly steady hands. It was a comfort that The Last Daughter of Krypton managed to appreciate even as she continued to clash with the Sinestro Corps general and the orchestrator of the destruction of Coast City, her move to preserve life at the risk of her own serving as a firm reminder of just why she was here.

She could hear the slight whining and whirring of Henshaw's arm servos with each and every punch the android threw, the four rings on the former astronaut's fingers imbuing him with eldritch energy that gave him a distinct edge in terms of pure physical strength. Of course, the very first lesson that her newfound family had taught her was to learn how to employ her advantages in order to blunt life's inconveniences and her sound employment of her superior speed and maneuverability allowed her to do a bit more than hold her own. Making sure to keep her hands close to her body as often as she could, the half-Kryptonian was constantly searching for ways to weave Henshaw into her defenses, to trap the cyborg in some kind of restraining hold that would allow her to do some distinctive damage or maybe to even remove the rings from her opponent's sturdy clutches. Though she had taken a small smattering of unnecessary damage in the process of constructing her trap, blows that resulted in a smidgen of bruises and cuts along her face and arms, the increased length of time needed for Henshaw to recover from the damage that she had done to him in return told the fair-haired warrior that she was heading in the right direction.

Henshaw appeared to realize it as well, the longtime thorn in Superman's side grunting in irritation as pulled away from the dangerous fray. Kara made no attempt to follow her frustrated foe, a barely discernible smile surfacing on her face as she maintained her defensive stance.

"I grow tired of this game," Henshaw informed his exasperating antagonist, the dull, mechanical drone that served as his voice a bit stymied due to his opponent's recent efforts to shatter what constituted as his jaw. "It is time that I change the rules."

Her eyes widening only briefly, Kara was quick to swoop downward, her path of travel already well underway by the time Henshaw opened fire. Feeling the wind against her face and the supernatural energy roaring down behind her, the former Supergirl was already putting her mind to the test, recognizing just what she had to do and how she was going to do it, as she hurtled back down to the front of The Daily Planet. Needing only a half-second to reorient herself upon returning to the streets below, Kara promptly put herself directly into the path of the enormous blast of golden energy clearly intended to annihilate the city she had just pledged to protect. She felt the skin on her hands and arms begin to blister and sizzle from the intense, eldritch heat as she employed her limited energy manipulation skills to keep Henshaw from completing his bloodthirsty designs, the panicked screams of the surrounding citizens spurring Kara on even more. Managing to push all the noise aside and focus on what had to be done, she was happy to see that she only needed several seconds to employ Lloyd's instruction and find the focal point of the robust energy signature.

She only needed a handful of moments more before she was able to twist the blast upward, her phenomenal strength enabling her to manipulate the ball of energy so that it would detonate several miles above the city.

Unfortunately, Kara's impressive efforts also happened to leave her defenses down just long enough for Henshaw to deliver a vicious backhand that landed square on the right side of her jaw. The force of the blow managed to not only crack the bone Henshaw had struck but also managed to shatter dozens of the surrounding windows that could not endure the convulsion produced from the impact. As shards of glass rained down on the handfuls of Metropolis natives that were foolish enough to stick around, Kara was busy enduring a forced meeting with the sturdy road that ran parallel to her cousin's workplace, her crash into and through the dried cement and black tar going on for nearly a hundred feet before she finally slid to a stop with the aid of a somewhat handy fire hydrant. As painful as her journey had been, she somehow still possessed enough awareness to notice the shadow looming over her, her instincts pushing Kara to leap to her feet as Henshaw crashed down feet first onto where her skull had been just a half-second before. The narrow window of time was more than enough to allow Kara to regain the offensive, the half-Kryptonian making sure to stay airborne after her timely dodge in order to swing her feet so that they would crash into the left side of the Cyborg Superman's neck.

Now it was Henshaw's turn to glide through the grime and grit of the ruined streets, his Qwardian power rings busy reporting the damage to his exterior frame until they were interrupted by a sturdy punch that hit home close to where his kidneys had been before they had been liquefied by the radiation that had transformed into a monster. Too disoriented to prevent himself from being forcefully turned around, his scanning equipment informed him that he didn't quite have the speed or the available power to dodge either the pair of body blows that ravaged his lower chest or the upward thrust kick that put his face in close and unhealthy contact with the ball of Kara Zor-el's left foot. The uppercut that followed only several split seconds after was equally unavoidable, the impact sending Henshaw hurtling back high into the clouds once again. Thankfully, his latest unwanted trip left him with enough time to avoid his opponent's subsequent attempt to lock him into some kind of restraining hold, his superior strength enabling him to overpower Kara's attempts to pin him down as well as leave him with an opening to land a stiff left hook to the girl's skull that bought him some unnecessary but much desired breathing room.

"You realize that I could have killed you," Henshaw ruthlessly informed Kara, his body once again beginning to repair itself. "Just like your foolish cousin, your irrational desire to prevent death leaves you unable to embrace the best parts of you."

Kara's eyes momentarily flashed red with the anger that came from hearing such an exasperating statement. Her mind was momentarily flooded by her memories of similar sentiments made by creatures both better and worse than Hank Henshaw, the reminisces coercing her to dip further into the dark and most dangerous parts of her.

In response, a sick smile surfaced upon Henshaw's twisted countenance, the merger of cold metal and even colder flesh a disgusting sight to behold. "I suppose I can give you a modicum of credit for your fruitless attempts to destroy me," he disclosed, "but I am afraid that your attempts will always end in failure. It is just as I told you on Oa, child of Krypton. Since I cannot die, I will satisfy what remains of my soul by eliminating as much of life as I can."

The impact of the cyborg's claims quickly twisted Kara's piquant fury into a cold, steady calmness. She too had once believed that causing death and destruction was her only function, a delegation forced upon her by her calculating and power-hungry family. Had she not been forced to leave her past or struggle to make a new home in what remained, she would most likely have been more than happy to rip her cousin limb from limb, smile as she burned the surrounding city to the ground and laugh as she heard the bones and muscles of her victims bend, break, and fall apart from all the damage she could create. But now, after all she had been through, there was only one creature she truly wanted to break.

"You realize that you're just jealous, right?" Kara calmly asked Henshaw, the tone within her question just as calm and detached as the shine reflected by her crystalline blue eyes. "You're so envious that all these people around you, all these people that don't have the brains or the brawn that you've got, can actually get a little bit of happiness out of what little they've got. I mean, so some wacky science experiment gone wrong turned you into some kind of Robocop wannabe with unfortunate hair issues. I got tortured and experimented on by my own family, watched my entire planet blow up and then got frozen for thirty years but you don't see me getting all emo about it, do you?"

Kara held in her smile upon seeing Henshaw's inhuman snarl, a clear sign that she had regained control of the psychological battlefield. "You know," she added while sporting a Stephanie-like smile, "maybe you should just take it like a good little robot, play some Cure albums, drink a quart of motor oil, and then go about your business."

"You are not doing anything that has not already been done to me before, Miss Zor-el." Henshaw flatly informed his tormentor while regaining his senses. "As a matter of fact, I believe it is now time to end this cheap charade."

Kara did her best to stay calm upon recognizing a familiar trio of golden energy bands coming her way. Her ocular membranes were quick to generate a blast of heat vision to counter the same trapping blast that Henshaw had nearly killed her with during their initial encounter. There was more power within the mystic lattice this time around, just as the intensity of her counter had grown after a solid month of intense training. The addition of the energy lance fired from Henshaw's fourth yellow ring only added to the intensity of the duel, the lethal-looking ray inching dangerously closer to Kara's frantically beating heart with each passing second.

"Your death will be the start of it all," Henshaw informed his prey while continuing to pour all of his energy into his task. "Your broken body will serve as the foundation for my monument to nonexistence."

* * *

_Mainz, Germany_

Hunter Zolomon couldn't resist the urge to grin maliciously as he looked down at his unconscious rival. Resisting the urge to turn downright giddy in response to his surprisingly quick but still inevitable victory, the crimson-eyed slaughterer took a moment to prod at the broken body with the tip of his right big toe as if The Flash was nothing more than a bit of unseemly road kill. A surprisingly strong nudge turned out to be just enough to roll Wally onto his stomach, the sight of the blood streaming from his rival's mouth and spilling onto the cobblestone streets warming the former federal agent's twisted heart. However, his desire to see the face of the man he was soon to kill quickly became too strong to resist, the craving soon prompting Zoom to ram his foot into the right side of The Flash's rib cage with enough force to flip the cataleptic hero back onto his shattered spine.

"Ungeheuer!" screamed an old woman standing only 20 feet away, the righteous fury in the old bat's face prompting Zolomon to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Lessen Sie ihn allein!" came another angry voice, a man's angry command quickly followed with a thrown brick that crashed into the back of Zoom's head. The impact was slight and did no harm to Zolomon but the irritation that bubbled in the speedster's throat upon hearing all the unfair words was enough to spur him into action. Summoning a fraction of his time manipulation abilities, Zoom crafted a whirlwind of kinetic energy that quickly brushed aside the former denizens of the recently annihilated beer hall. He didn't pay a whit of attention towards how or even if anyone survived his response, his thoughts focused solely upon his long-awaited task.

"You simply weren't strong enough to accept what I tried to teach you, my friend," Zoom informed his unconscious counterpart as he balled his right hand into a fist and raised it over his head. "Because of this, it is now up to me to show the world what people with our kind of power are truly capable of."

Lost in the blinding glory of what would be his greatest victory, Hunter Zolomon left himself blind to everything else going around him. The exhilaration of his victory even momentarily blunted the horrific agony that continued to stay with him as he felt the back of his right knee explode, his patella shattering from the force of a bullet traveling through his flesh and bone at just under the speed of sound. The pain finally caught up with him as a second bullet annihilated his left knee, the damage leaving him quite literally without a working leg to stand on as he slumped messily to the ground. Fresh, horrific pain began to arrive as his ungraceful tumble caused his ruined knees to land first upon the uneven cobblestones, the seemingly unending agony forcing Zolomon to lean back as he let loose a guttural wail.

Unfortunately for him, the instinctual gesture left Zoom wide open for the pair of darts that quickly pierced through his shoulder blades. It didn't take long at all for the raw, firestorm of pain that was already violating his senses to morph into a chaotic, unstoppable torture that he couldn't even begin to know how to stop or control. His blood-soaked body continued to be ravaged with one grand mal seizure after another, the chemical compound imbued within the darts forcing an overload of hypersyncronous electrical neuronal activity that ravaged Hunter Zolomon's already overly taxed nervous system. The rest of his body, in response, began to shake and twist like an out-of-control child's toy, the frenetic motions and the keening of the man's screams inducing all but one of the surrounding onlookers to rush away from the madness.

"I hope you have a damn good idea on how long I've been waiting to do that," Slade Wilson informed his agonized victim, the man known as Deathstroke the Terminator tossing aside the spent Mosin Nagant rifle as he strode forward evenly and angrily. The black-and-orange mask around the aged assassin's face did little to hide the deliberate rage on the mercenary's face, the murderer of hundreds of good and bad people alike more than happy to add this one to his long list. "And let us not forget that acquiring the body slide technology from the ruins of the Hall of Justice was no small feat either."

Deathstroke took a great deal of pleasure in the unnecessary task of kicking Zolomon away from the unconscious Wally West, the old man smiling as Zoom's prone body crashed into the front bumper of a hatchback parked on the side of the road. Ever the professional, he was quick to return to his cold fury as his steps brought him back within range of the aggrieved speedster. Lifting the pathetic wretch up by the lapels of his yellow and red battle armor, Slade's sturdy grip was enough to keep his victim within his clutches as he continued to flail and thrash about.

"I truly wish that I still have the opportunity to thank The Batman for coming up with such a wonderful bit of weaponry," Slade said calmly as he took an almost casual look at the spent barbs of titanium that Zolomon had involuntarily shaken free from his shoulders. "I have to admit that even I would've had a hard time coming up with a better way to put somebody like you in their place."

Tossing Zoom back down to the ground, Deathstroke took a moment to admire the sight of Hunter Zolomon twisting and rolling in abject and uncontrollable misery, the man's throat already too tired and worn to scream. Of course, the memory of his little girl lying beaten and broken in a bloody heap was quite enough to prompt him to keep moving, his boot-clad feet quickly laying into any vulnerable spot that the veteran soldier could find. He made a distinct point to count all the broken bones he had managed to cause as he ravaged Zolomon's legs and chest with kick after kick after kick after kick.

"I never had much against what you said you were trying to do, kiddo," Slade said as he fell to his knees, his strong legs quick to lock his quivering quarry into a body mount while his right hand peeled away the mask off of Zolomon's sweat and blood-stained face. "But the simple fact is that you messed with the wrong man's daughter."

Slade showed no restraint at all as he pounded away at Zoom's unprotected face. Landing nearly four dozen punches in less than a minute, his blows shattered a variety of bones before starting to work in on compressing the muscles and blood vessels around them. He made certain to avoid any strike that would damage the bastard's cranium, his strong mind keeping his phenomenal fury in some small degree of check as the streets below became littered with his victim's blood and shattered teeth.

"I don't like it that I don't have your attention," Deathstroke said as he once again rose to his feet, his blood-stained left hand reaching for one of the pockets strapped to his belt. He soon emerged with yet another dart, the thin blade slightly longer and a great deal blunter than the two that he had employed before. "I want you to be fully aware of what the hell is happening to you," he said as he plunged the needle into the cord of muscle just below Zolomon's heart. The tranquilizing agents were quick to take their effect, the damaging seizures quickly subsiding but still leaving the speedster nothing more than a blubbering, crying mass of muscle and flesh.

And, as he looked up blearily into his killer's eyes, Hunter Zolomon finally realized how weak he could truly be.

"This can all end quickly," Slade slowly and calmly told his foolish victim. "All you need to do is turn around and use what few teeth you've got left to bite down right onto that curb over there." The old man did little to rein in his enjoyment at watching the man beneath him suffer. "Just do that and it'll all be over."

Far too frightened and wracked with pain to think of anything else, Zoom could do nothing to stop the flow of tears from his eyes or the blood and bile from his mouth as he did what was asked of him. He didn't want to be a hero anymore. He didn't want to be a villain. He just wanted to be nothing.

A vicious stomp to the back of Zoom's neck gave the poor soul his final wish, the sound of his skull and neck shattering mute to him as he knew no more.

* * *

_Qward_

"_Attacker identified as Jax-Ur. Born on the Kryptonian moon of Wegthor, his destruction of his home world as a result of a nuclear missile test prompted him to be convicted of crimes against the Kryptonian government and sentenced to lifetime imprisonment within the primordial dimension known as The Phantom Zone."_

"Good to know," Kyle Rayner told his ever-informative ring as he struggled to break free of the half-nelson the rogue missile engineer had placed on him. Once again concentrating the power given to him by the Guardians of Oa and the sacrifice of Jennifer-Lynn Hayden, the illustrator and space hero broke free from his foe's clutches before summoning a spectral, four-armed skeleton warrior to do battle with the escaped prisoner. Satisfied with the distraction, he continued to do what he could to make his way closer and closer to Qward.

_WHAM!!_

And then a six-armed Kryptonian managed to slam four of his fists into Ion's face.

"_Attacker identified as Jer-em_," Kyle's ring flatly informed him as he briefly coasted through the null gravity within the planet's ionosphere. _"Dubbed a religious fanatic, his planned destruction of Argo City prompted him to be convicted of crimes against the Kryptonian government and sentenced to lifetime imprisonment within the primordial dimension known as. . ."_

"I know. I KNOW!" Ion griped from within the relative safety of his force cocoon as he fought to restore his equilibrium after being knocked head over heels by the vicious series of haymakers. "I swear, I need to figure out how to give this thing a more lively voice," he thought aloud while employing his ample power supply to summon a spectral replica of a familiar fire-spewing, hammer throwing lizard/turtle. Following up the successful charge of his own rendition of the King of the Koopas, Kyle walloped Jer-em with a green-tinted uppercut that sent the rogue Kryptonian flying away and unable to impede him any further.

"_Hey, kid," _a familiar voice interrupted Kyle's thoughts over the Corps' neural network. _"I've got a question for ya."_

"_Yeah?" _Ion asked back, the young man quick to block out his ring's identification of several more of Krypton's lesser known convicted criminals as he focused more on getting them out of his way. _"And just what is this question?"_

Kyle could almost hear the good humor in Kilowog's thoughts as the Bolovarian pressed forward. _"Just how did a poozer like you manage to get so far ahead of the rest of us?"_

As he swatted aside three more of The Phantom Zone's former residents with a giant, green tennis racket, Kyle had just enough time to take a look back and see just how true his teacher's words had turned out to be. In fact, there wasn't another member of the Corps within 100 kilometers of him, the surrounding airspace consisting only of him and the members of Sinestro's army that were either charging towards the main battlefield or had been foolish enough to attack him. He had been reasonably certain that Graf Toren had been behind him just a few seconds ago but a quick location scan told him that the monk was currently occupied with yet another of Krypton's convicted criminals. Not having the time to look or feel sheepish about his momentary blindness, The Torchbearer of The Green Lantern Corps summoned another helping of his nigh inexhaustible energy supply to summon a variety of creatures taken straight from cartoons and anime sessions past in order to properly combat his many surrounding opponents.

"_It kind of helps when you're not thinking about where you're going," _Ion replied with just a hint of good humor as he piloted his manifestation of Bugs Bunny through a series of kung fu kicks and punches that even Bruce Lee would have had a hard time keeping up with. _"I'll double back just as soon as I take care of a few more of these guys."_

"_Don't even bother, kid," _Kilowog suggested as his meaty, pink fists smashed two of the three skulls of the Trihydrate beast that had managed to weave into the Bolovarian's path. _"We kin keep the party goin' strong up here. You just get down to that main battery and we'll follow as soon as we can. That way we kin mebbe hold off any kind of pincer attack that these poozers got in store fer us."_

Rarely ever one to disagree with his former trainer's commands, Kyle let loose with a shockwave that scattered his half-dozen remaining opponents like bowling pins. Summoning another round of eldritch energy, he twisted and manipulated that portion of his power to swirl around him in the shape of a Mutant Module taken straight from his childhood memories of watching heroes in a half shell. Ready and roaring to go, the young Green Lantern barreled his way forward under nothing but his own power, caring and responding little to the Phantom Zone escapees or Qwardian mercenaries that attempted to shoot at him or get in his way. Shutting his eyes and momentarily gritting his teeth from the strain, he hurtled his way through mile after painful mile as he zoomed closer to the deep reds and rich oranges of the Qwardian skyline.

And, just like that, he was there on Sinestro's home world.

"Huh," he noted quite admirably, his senses momentarily taken back by the enormous buildings and clean motorways that the planet's largest city appeared to offer. Needless to say, it wasn't quite necessarily what Kyle was expecting after so much time hypothesizing about just what the main headquarters of a group of galaxy-roving anarchists seemingly determined to reshape the morals and ethos of the cosmos to their own designs would look like. Of course, the ensuing turret fire that exploded from the rooftops of the more modestly sized skyscrapers did a great deal to put a damper on his exultations.

"Okay, ring," Kyle said as he abandoned his previous creation in favor of zigging and zagging his way around the anti-matter cannon fire. "We're looking for a high concentration of stationary supernatural energy. Now where, oh where, can we find such a thing?"

"_Energy source is located 237.75 kilometers from current location_," the ring reported dully as its owner continued to avoid, block, and dodge the maelstrom of energy being thrown his way. _"Establishing neurovisual link with the well's anticipated_ _position."_

The sight of a reddish-brown building with circular pillars situated on the front and side borders suddenly appeared in Ion's mind. It looked like some kind of Elizabethan church or some tactically crafted European castle to him but Kyle quickly tossed such unnecessary thoughts aside as he began to move forward with a purpose. His ability to partially manipulate not only time but also the temporary state of reality around him, when combined with the ring's ability to allow him to fly, soon helped him reach a speed that even his friend Wally would have a hard time matching as the waves of anti-matter spitting from the chief defenses of the capital city were quickly left behind. As he had expected, he only ran into another swell of anti-matter energy upon arriving at the antiquated looking citadel only a few seconds later, the sheer force behind the surrounding defenses telling the space-faring crime fighter that he may have just hit pay dirt.

"No time to play guys!" he informed the cannons and the aliens that were in control of them as he once again swooped downward. Strengthening the intensity of the energy shell he had kept around him for what seemed like hours now, Rayner employed it to quickly burrow through and underneath the stronghold in order to get ever closer to his potential destination. Dirt and stone flew in front of his eyes as he barreled forward, any potential impediments burning away or being cast aside by the heat given off by the cocoon around him and the speed in which he sent the energy bubble forward. Continuing to follow the path of travel mapped out by his reliable ring, he soon found himself several hundred feet below the fort, the conflicting array of energy signatures quickly leading him on the path to becoming absolutely lost.

"Wonder if anybody here is willing to give me some directions?" Kyle asked as he continued his conversation with himself while taking a look around the enormous space he had crashed his way into. The ensuing appearance of a familiar arrangement of energy signatures rushing at him from the east let Ion know that he wasn't alone, the accompanying sight of nearly a hundred Qwardian mercenaries not exactly filling the hero up with confidence. "Come on, guys. Don't be shy!" Kyle exclaimed as the energy being put forth by the mercenaries became a little too uncomfortable for him to bear. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can find the power battery and the nearest bathroom."

His good humor was quick to scatter upon his ring's realization that another unwanted presence was beginning to crawl out of the woodwork, this time from the northern side of the wide open space. They were several dozen in number, with some of them letting loose familiar red rays of energy that Kyle clearly recognized as Kryptonian heat vision. He managed to twist around the first half-dozen or so shots by pure skill and instinct but the sting of a pair of heat lances striking against his force barrier prompted him to let loose with another jolt of expanding energy designed to buy him an extra second or two.

_Don't know if I've got either the time or the energy to deal with all of this_, Kyle thought grudgingly as he began to look for an exit. _Gotta see if I can use my speed to stall for time or make a quick getaway_.

Kyle thought he found an answer with the long corridor stretching out to the south. Seeing only a single figure rushing towards him from about a half-mile away, he naturally thought that it would be little trouble to either avoid or simply bowl over the solitary figure on his way out to safer ground. The relief was evident on his face as he streaked forward, his impressive pace leaving both the Qwardian troopers and the former Phantom Zone residents in his metaphorical dust. Preparing a small portion of his energy to take on the ensuing menace, he summoned the enormous spectral image of a rampaging rhino that he sent straight at his one remaining obstacle.

Ion wasn't that much surprised by the fact that his target had managed to avoid his attack. After all, as powerful as he had become, he was well aware that there was still room for mistakes and miscalculations. What really threw him for a loop, however, was that the strange-looking man just continued to streak past him and toward Sinestro's advancing forces. The roar that erupted from the fellow's lungs as he crashed headlong into the fray provided a clear indication that the stranger was looking forward to taking on the hopeless odds placed before him, the hulk of a creature bellowing words of invitation and warning to any member of Sinestro's army that cared to listen.

"Ooooooooookay," Kyle said while taking a moment to peruse his possible options. "Just how the hell do I keep getting put into these kinds of situations anyway?"

Then, without a word to himself or anyone else, he turned back to fight as well.

* * *

Satisfied with his messy work, Slade took a moment to stare down at the still unconscious Wally West. Taking in the man's shattered kneecaps and gradually healing spine, the mercenary had to admit that it had been a good, long time since he had seen the kid looking so messed up. Granted, a handful of those past occasions had been because of his efforts but the fact remained that the world's most renowned assassin suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy for his fellow father.

"You need to learn to take better care of yourself, Flash," Slade informed the man whose life he had just saved while stooping forward to get a better look at him. He brought his fingers to Wally's legs, checking for the broken bones and doing what he could to determine whether or not the hero's hyperaccelerated metabolism would allow him to heal properly. After dislocating and then relocating a patella that seemed to be ready to twist the wrong way, Deathstroke shifted his feet in order to examine Wally's back. Just as he expected, the previously broken vertebrae were healing quite nicely and it wouldn't be long before The Fastest Man Alive could once again show why he was called exactly that.

"Still, it's safe to say that you'd be a smear on the sidewalk if it wasn't for me. Y'know, kid, it just occurs to me that I just saved you people from Zoom twice now. Once right now and the last time about a month back when Grayson got himself into trouble. Then, of course, you've got me sparing Harper's life after I told him that I had been giving him his case assignments when he was still part of The Outsiders and how I saved Donna's hide during that embarrassing little stint with the Amazons rebelling and attacking Washington D.C. God, I still can't believe that those antiquated busybodies actually had a bee launcher."

The former Secret Society member shook his head back and forth, disgusted that he was even so much as remotely involved in Hippolyta's misguided attack on the nation's capital.

"All that being said, I seem to recall a time when it was my job to _kill _all of you," he concluded as he pointed the barrel of a dual-action rifle straight at the spot between The Flash's eyes. "Seems like life was a whole lot easier back then."

Slade held the gun there for a moment or so longer, contemplating the many decades his turbulent life had forced him through. He had spent a good deal of his life in moments like these, staring at some poor, misguided fool from behind the barrel of his gun. However, unlike the vast majority of those occasions, Deathstroke didn't need long to decide to simply slump his grip off of the gun and let it fall to the ground.

"Too much damn trouble," he concluded as he watched The Flash slowly regain consciousness. Staying perfectly still as the young father performed a self-examination of his surroundings, the chemically enhanced super-soldier did some quick causal mathematics to determine just when Mister West would focus his doubtlessly righteous attention upon him. And, just as he predicted, it was only about five seconds after The Flash had managed to catch a glimpse of the corpse of Hunter Zolomon, the monster's smashed neck and hyperextended jaw leaving little doubt concerning the man's decided lack of well-being, before Wally turned to look at him with quite the righteous look indeed.

"What?" The Flash first asked with a mumble, a slight glaze still looming in the man's green eyes. "What did you do?"

Deathstroke, despite being reasonably certain that he would receive such a question within a holier-than-thou tenor, still rolled his one remaining eye in annoyance. Of course, his chemically enhanced mind was already ready with a counter and the assassin was quick to put it into play.

"Before you go and judge me, Wally, I want you to do something for me." Slade requested in an almost untailored manner. "I want you to picture little Iris lying in a hospital bed. I want you to see her broken and beaten and crying and wondering why you weren't there to put a stop to what happened to her. Then, and only then, can you ask me the question's that's really on your mind."

The Flash could only stare at the older man, the young father not quite certain if he could ever do such a thing before it was too late to only just think about it. Of course, his inquisitor didn't appear to care a great deal about that particular dilemma, and the momentarily wounded speedster could do little more than keep his eyes on the silver-haired Vietnam War veteran as he rose back up to his full height.

"I have work to do," Slade said rather coldly, his fingers already moving to tap a sequence of buttons on a keypad installed within his left gauntlet. "You're free to join us when you're up for it."

Again, Wally could do little more than watch as Deathstroke faded from sight, the pilfered body slide technology enabling the soldier to leave the blood-soaked streets behind him as he moved on to other things. Left with his own questions, The Flash momentarily cast his eyes upwards at the blue skies overhead. Dimly hearing their words and the motions of the surrounding citizens as they moved closer to him and the rest of the grisly scene, he shut his eyes as he felt his broken body continue to heal.

It would just take a little more time.

* * *

_Gotham City – Crime Alley_

Much like an eagle watching a cluster of rabbits searching for a healthy patch of grass, Leokar Kurkosaw took a moment to observe the frenetic goings on before choosing to dive into the fray. The battle had begun a mere 10 minutes ago and casualties were already starting to pile up on both sides. To his slight surprise, it was not just various members of The Green Lantern Corps that had managed to hold their own but also a few handfuls of the planet's populace that had foolishly chosen to take up the fight. Of course, the technology crafted by that accursed Calculator had a great deal to do with their success, the spectral manipulation technology created by the much reviled Earthling allowing the bags of flesh and bone to somehow hold their own.

"You were foolish to stay away from the forefront, Kuttler," the elephantine beast grumbled more to himself than the bespectacled hacker that had managed to avoid his just clutches for far too long. "Your efforts have impeded our noble goals for far too long and your delaying of the inevitable will do nothing more than strengthen my resolve to eliminate you."

As the people of Earth had come to learn over the course of the last several weeks, the former prison warden's thoughts could only keep him still for so long. The air itself seemed to take a more wicked turn as the Sinestro Corps general and leader of the invasion force cast himself into the battlefield. The philosophy of the monster was much the same as it had been before, his mercy towards all those who did not serve with or under him all but nonexistent. A half-dozen of Gotham's citizens had been atomized by his power even before Kurkosaw touched the ground, their insolent ambitions snuffed out before even realizing that they were about to die. A pair of Waller's soldiers and another trio of Talia's assassins were quick to follow, the alien powerhouse sickened by the fact that these idiotic souls had chosen to fight a war they had no business belonging in. Eager to divvy out punishment to those who had made pride their crime, Kurkosaw let out a sick smile as he captured a Green Lantern in his stern, unyielding grip.

"WHO IS NEXT?!" Kurkosaw bellowed as he ripped the arms off of his prey, the tearing of bone, flesh and muscle and the screams that followed falling on his uncaring ears before he snapped the fool's neck with his sturdy claws. "WHO ELSE WISHES TO DEMONSTRATE THAT THEY ARE INCAPABLE OF EXISTING IN THE WORLD OF THE TRULY JUST? WHERE ARE YOU, HARPER?!"

Kurkosaw felt the wind get knocked out of his mighty lungs as a giant, green boxing glove crashed into his back. Bowling over several of his shoulders as well as smashing through the upper body of a Checkmate agent who failed to get out of his way, his ungainly crash into an abandoned tractor trailer did only a modicum of damage to his enraged features. Infuriated by the fact that someone would attack him from behind, his normally gray eyes literally turned red at the sight of his latest tormentor. The rage that powered him nearly just as much as the eldritch energy supplied by his Qwardian power ring continued to roar even higher as he realized that he had finally crossed paths with a creature that he had long wanted to punish.

"So you're the latest mass-murdering, alien psychopath on the block?" asked Hal Jordan, the sickeningly cocky tone behind the mass murderer's words infuriating Kurkosaw even more. "You know, it usually doesn't take this long for me to go and make the introductions. Sorry if you might feel offended."

A bit of spittle escaped from Kurkosaw's trunk as he rose to his stumpy feet. "Are you here on Harper's behalf or because you honestly believe you have the right to judge me?"

"A little bit of both," Hal honestly replied, his attentions only focused slightly on everything else there was to be seen on the battlefield. "To be honest, though, I'm mostly here because you look like the biggest bully on this block and I've always had a yen for knocking guys like you off their pedestals."

Kurkosaw's bulbous eyes narrowed dangerously as he channeled more of his power away from his Qwardian power ring and into his brawny physique. The hairs on the top of his head and around his trunk began to bristle from the intensity of the mystic heat, the Sinestro Corps general eager to right what he long felt to be one of this universe's greatest wrongs.

"Very well. Judge me," he challenged. "If you believe you can."

* * *

_Barcelona_

The rigors of the blade-to-blade combat were easily seen on both Sinestro and Stephanie Brown as the two mystically powered warriors continued to lock horns. Though the mystical energy suffused within both their bodies allowed much of their wounds to be quickly patched up, there were still a litany of bruises and cuts to be beheld. The cauterized wound in her right arm had forced Stephanie to use the claw on her strong hand for strictly defensive measures, the skin and muscle that had been burned and cut thanks to a particularly nasty lash from Sinestro's blades still healing as emerald and golden sparks continued to fly around their clashing of sharp edges. Likewise, the dagger-sized holes in Sinestro's abdomen and left shoulder blade were still plain to see despite the coverings of the alien's yellow-and-black body armor, the mottled, purple skin still struggling to restore itself while a trio of scratches that had left his long face a bloody mess were healing as well.

As bizarre as it may seem to the uninitiated, a good portion of the two soldiers were at home in this violent mess. The older spirit, maligned by decades of fighting misguided wars, took comfort in doing what he believed to be right and noble while the younger soul, inspired by the desire to become something that could be accepted, cared for, and loved, thrived with the realization of what she had become after all the work and devotion she had poured into her craft. Those thoughts ran brighter and stronger than any spectral creation or superb physical feat that either Sinestro or Stephanie could muster with their phenomenal abilities, their shared faith allowing them to keep a pace that only a select few in the cosmos could possibly have maintained for as long as they had.

Sinestro charged forward as he spotted an opening in the girl's defenses, the result of a mistimed lunge with her left claw leaving her kidneys and lungs wide open for attack. Moving quickly but cautiously with the thought that the mistake could be nothing more than a feint, the overlord of Qward still found himself a bit surprised when the Green Lantern disconnected the cape flowing against her back and left it hanging in the air with the aid of her ring. As a result, the blade in his right hand slid through nothing but black silk-and-titanium cloth, the thickness of the material just a little too much for him to cut through immediately. That small amount of time it took for him to move away cost him a bit of a penalty, the warrior letting out a grunt as Robin's left claw grazed against the surface of the back of his neck and spinal cord.

Stephanie could practically smell the blood as it was her turn to rush forward, the young Green Lantern encouraged by her success and quite hungry for more. Risking her right arm as she struggled to plunge the attached claw through Sinestro's heart, she aimed the blades strapped to her left hand straight for the Yellow Lantern's Adam's apple. Robin found it hard to resist the urge to gnash her teeth as her adroit adversary warded off both her strikes with a double cross block that left her claws to clash ineffectually with the middle of his blades. Her extended body left her wide open for the ensuing knee to the gut and a standing side kick that landed with rib-cracking force and pushed her into a backward roll. As she spun back to her feet, she couldn't help but notice that she was now standing beside The Batman once again, the concentrated look on The Dark Knight's face revealing just a fraction of concern.

"Another draw then," Sinestro grimly surmised as his hands and blades swung limply at his sides. "Quite the dirty trick with your cape there, little Terran. I hardly believe that Kilowog and the rest of your instructors would approve of such an underhanded gesture."

"Don't care much about what my other teachers have to say about it," Stephanie fired back with a tired huff, the young woman eager to have a bit of recovery time after all the rigors she had forced her body through. "Only really care about the one."

"So I see," the Yellow Lantern observed as he gave that one teacher a glance. Batman only gave him the slightest of glares in return, the man's energies clearly more devoted to watching over his charge. Intrigued by the gesture of loyalty, particularly from someone with such a long-standing history of independent prudence, the overlord of Qward decided that it was time to go through with the next portion of his appraisal. Hunching himself into a long-familiar fighting stance, his open palms at the forefront with his elbows and knees bent, his transition to a Ko'ral Kanor battle stance was nothing short of instinctual even after the handful of decades that had passed since his days training in the most renowned fighting dojo in the cosmos.

"Perhaps what we need now is a round of strictly hand-to-hand combat, if only to further prove your worthiness for the title you wish to claim."

Despite her weariness, Stephanie suddenly found her face setting into an almost enthusiastic smile. Her canines briefly flashed into Sinestro's sight as she hastily retracted her claws and the eldritch energy assigned to them back into her slight but powerful body.

"That sounds fine by me, shitmop," she said with a confident smirk despite her tired knees groaning in complaint as they were forced to be a part of her defensive stance. Taking a moment to organize her brain into convincing her whining joints to get their act together, she felt that she was as much prepared as she ever would be for whatever was to come.

The whole display caused Sinestro to smirk, a gesture born out of amusement spawned by observing the stripling's energy and respect for what the young warrior was willing to put herself through. "I should warn you, Miss Brown. I have mastered the teachings of no less than The Warlords of Okaara, the most renowned fighting instructors known by all that lives on this plane of reality."

Robin offered an equally sincere smirk in response.

"That's all fine and dandy, Mister Magic Moustache Man, but I learned from the best."

* * *

_Hong Kong_

The pace had been fast from the start and had only escalated as the minutes wore on. They had begun moving at just over five strikes a second, the sound of the mystic blades crashing into one another time and time again sounding unusually sharp within the luxurious office suite of the late Mao Tenryu. Gray and silver sparks of supernatural energy began to emerge as the speed of the battle quickly doubled, the demonic power within the bodies of Lloyd Thomas and Vincent Culp beginning to make a physical presence on the environment around them. The lush carpeting was soon set ablaze by the ambient energy as The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote escalated their combat maneuvers to twenty strikes a second, the fire quickly beginning to escalate within a room where countless billions of dollars had been exchanged and countries had risen and fallen at the hands of the people who had stepped foot in the office of The Venerable King of Hong Kong.

Thousands of stabs, lunges, and slashes had been attempted, parried, dodged, blocked, and phased through. Only a precious few had met their anticipated mark and that small percentage only succeeded because they served as nothing more than stepping stones for more dangerous but eventually fruitless offensives. No blood had yet to be shed and no bones had yet been broken but the surrounding battlefield already looked like something out of the photographs of post-Blitz London. Nothing but ashen wood, crumbling columns of cement and mortar, and the ruins of something once stately and strong now lost.

The two old friends broke apart, their preliminary glimpse into the other's abilities now complete.

"Enough pussyfootin', sunshine," Lloyd told his older brother with a threatening growl. "Time for you to bleed."

Vincent gave The Black Dog a predatory smile, the same hunter's grin that Lloyd had stolen from him so many years ago.

"The same to you."

The topmost floor of the building began to disintegrate as the half-demons rushed at one another yet again.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, loyal fans, I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news (at least I hope its good news) is that this issue is on time and that you just finished reading it. The bad news (at least I hope it isn't too bad) is that the latest chapter of _The Twelve Days of Misfits _won't be coming out until the 20th. For the dozen or so of you reading it, don't worry. You'll still get your eleven stories and your Christmas bonus right on time. It's just that writing and revising 19,000 words in five days while working forty hours is already a daunting enough challenge for me to add something else to the pile. That being said, I hope all of you are enjoying the Christmas stories (and just check my profile page if you wish to read them but didn't know they existed) and thank you for another great year of fiction writing. And, as a usual award, here's the next chapter preview.

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Issue #78 Preview

We're past the halfway point of _Culp's War_ and, as Jim Ross would say, business is about to pick up. While Kara remains locked in a desperate struggle with Hank Henshaw, the war for Gotham City escalates as old friends reunite and new friends are torn apart. Meanwhile, back on Sinestro's home world, a mysterious ally may give Kyle Rayner the chance he needs to overcome the odds and bring this war to a grinding halt while Lloyd, Sinestro, Stephanie, and Vincent struggle to prove their worth in the next portion of _The Misfits_: Certain Uncertainties. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	78. Certain Uncertainties

Issue #78

Certain Uncertainties

_Metropolis_

Lloyd had always told her that peace was the key to control. After all, Kara knew enough about The Black Dog and the source of his own power, how the bond between Lloyd and The Condemner was made strong by the human host being as calm as possible in order to best employ the vast hoard of knowledge and power that the demon within him could provide, to realize how her teacher and friend could take such theories to heart. For him, to acclimate one's emotions would only give him more to work with than if his mind was clouded by rage and fury.

She tried hard to follow Lloyd's example as the Cyborg Superman attempted to broil her alive in the eldritch heat deployed by his Qwardian power rings. She struggled to steady both her rapid heartbeat and the hasty flow of air spawned by her harried lungs as the two solid beams of golden energy threatened to burn her face and legs while the single, dangerously sharp spike of magical energy steered even closer towards her heart. The blonde-haired half-Kryptonian was already feeling the sting of the eldritch heat that had caused her skin to sizzle and her blood to sputter and spit within her body and around her muscle and bone. She shut her eyes tight as the faint hairs on the nape of her neck begin to curl and wither as the equally bright barrier drawing closer to her back prevented her from escaping. It was nothing short of a deadly tomb created by the orchestrator of the destruction of Coast City and Kara knew that it was only a matter of time before it closed around her if she couldn't think of something.

She tried to concentrate on her memories of Bruce's relaxing chants and Lloyd's kindly words but she soon felt something else rear its ugly head. Indeed, the gentle lessons and advice was quick to meld with her father's vile commands and Henshaw's grisly threats, the unhealthy meeting creating a discordant melody that rang in her ears and threw her concentration off just a little bit more.

_How could I possibly be peaceful in a time like this? _Kara couldn't help but think. _Who could possibly be calm?_

"I can smell your fear, little one," Henshaw said coldly, the warnings of a potential power surge made by the android's internal scanners lost to the allures of human bloodlust. "You are learning about the certainty, the inevitability that all life shall end no matter how hard you try to stop it. Give in to it. Stop grasping for something that no one could ever hope to hold on to."

Kara grit her teeth in frustration as she summoned whatever small amounts of solar energy she hadn't already brought to bear, the power amplifying the explosion of heat that continued to pour from her eyes. Letting out a roar of rage in response to the bitter truth behind Henshaw's words, she could only see the sharp, potential instruments of her destruction out of the barest corners of her eyes while the rest of her sights were dominated by a crimson glow. A gust of wind that slammed into the right side of her battered body informed her of the sudden change in air pressure caused by the clouds around the battlefield beginning to evaporate and break apart. Indeed, the condensed water that had risen up from the northwestern shores of The Mississippi River fading into nothing before it could fall back down to the ground once again.

As sick as she was by the sound of it, Kara wished that she could hear nothing but the pointless destruction around her. However, fate was willing to throw her another nasty pitch as her accelerated senses still managed to pick up all the noise still popping up from the streets several miles below. Her body forced her to take in not only the panicked breathing of the people below but also receive whatever else the strangers so far beneath her had to offer. Some of them were murmuring in prayer for their own safety, of course, the all-too-human need for self-preservation conflicting bizarrely with the instinctual desire to bear witness to what was going on above them. Others were a bit more kind but no less foolish, their words of encouragement and support for their unexpected rescuer having doubtlessly presumed to go unheard but Kara proved them wrong in that as well.

_He has to hear all of this __**every **__day_, she couldn't help but think as her left elbow brushed against the force field behind her, the slow collision resulting in a fire that soon began to wrap around the rest of her arm. _How does he do it? How does he deal with all these people talking to him all the time? They don't even know his name but they place so much of their faith into his hands!_

"To think that I wasted decades of my life pretending that I could be a god," the Cyborg Superman spat. "My friends and my family lost our lives trying to reach the stars, to achieve even the slightest of achievements that you aliens and demigods could accomplish in your sleep! We gave up everything we had to try to earn even an ounce of what you received just by being born and the fates decided that _I _should be punished? Do you have any idea of how fortunate you are?"

Ironically enough, Henshaw's words went all but ignored by Kara as she struggled to stay alive. She kept trying to follow Bruce and Lloyd's examples but couldn't help but feel a bit pleased to sense her own anger bubbling to a boil. She couldn't keep pretending not to hate having to hear the fear and feel the hope of others and she despised the fact that the idiot in front of her was such a monster and she was particularly pissed off with the certainty that she was the only person available that could do what needed to be done. Three years of doing what she hoped to be right turned out to not be quite enough to fully eliminate her first 15 years of haughty indifference and, with as much agony and strain she was being put under, she didn't really view that as a bad thing at this point and time.

_I want to go home_, Kara mumbled to herself as she felt another wave of heat begin to circulate through her arms. _I want to go back to Gotham and hear Mister Wayne tell me about what he thinks I can do to be a little bit better. I want to hear Steph's stupid jokes and watch Roy and Wally with their kids and roll my eyes when Dick says one of his stupid puns._

The golden lance of energy at the forefront of Henshaw's attack pattern seemed to shrink back in response to the ambient heat flowing outward from the center of Kara's body. The mask that had covered her face had long burned away to reveal a woman who wanted nothing more than to stay out of the situations that her life would always choose to put her into.

_I want Lloyd to hold me, _she thought with a sad but infuriated certainty. _I want to feel him touching me and rubbing all the soreness out of my muscles and know that he's okay because I'm okay but I can't do that because he's in Hong Kong fighting an asshole and he might die and I can't help him and it's all. . . because. . . of. . . HIM!_

As shaky as The Last Daughter of Krypton's logic might have been, the explosion of bright, white energy that poured from her extended palms was both steady and strong. It enveloped the three advancing beams of yellow energy at a speed that easily startled and stunned Henshaw. Moreover, his drained energy reserves left it all but impossible for the Sinestro Corps general to avoid the unexpected counter, the panic in the android's eyes clear as day as the bolt of energy struck him straight in the center of his sternum. The dwindling amount of power he could draw from his Qwardian power rings could do little more than measure the intensity of the mystic energy within the alien's powerful rejoinder as it punched through his chest.

Two-thirds of the Cyborg Superman's powerful torso and nearly his entire right arm had quickly been burned away by the display of Kara Zor-el's fury. That realization hit both of the fighters only moments before their realization of what would soon come because of it. However, while Kara's already noisy mind had already begun to ask and answer the questions that sprung up thanks to this unexpected occurrence, Hank Henshaw, despite his agony, could barely feel little more than a wave of unyielding relief.

"I. . .I. . ." the Cyborg Superman stumbled in an almost reverent manner. "I had always hoped. . ." he continued to mumble as the warnings displayed by his internal scanners went completely ignored. "Have I finally earned my reward?"

Kara's still, crimson eyes narrowed in response, the unfocused wrath that had momentarily taken over her quickly smoothing itself into a cold fury that she quickly wrapped around her like a blanket. The summoning of the supernatural might enmeshed within the Praxian portions of her genetic makeup was all but instinctual this time, the millennia old symbol of that proud, warrior race once again threatening to deliver victory as two spheres of energy formed in front of her hands. Taking a brief moment to gander at the happiness in the twisted amalgamation of flesh and metal that served as Hank Henshaw's face, she let out a fearsome smile as she let the energy fly.

"Thank you," Henshaw said with a ghostly whisper as his body was enveloped not only by the burst of heat that poured from Kara's eyes but also the eldritch energy that quickly withered and incinerated the Apokoliptian metal alloys that held his body together. He made no effort to shield himself from his fate or run away from it, the man's long-desired yearning for death far too strong to ignore.

As the light faded, Kara took a moment to watch the four now-ownerless Qwardian power rings begin to make their way towards their new, destined holders. Taking only a moment to let out a deep breath, the tired victor was soon on the move as the baubles began to launch off in four different directions, her impressive speed enabling her to easily capture her multiple quarries well before they could scurry to safety. Letting out a small, hardy grunt as she closed her left hand around the four rings, she did her best not to let out a single note of pain as she felt the rings shatter within her closed fist, the release of energy causing her already singed palm to burn and bleed.

_Just ride it out_, she told herself while shutting her eyes tight once again. _This is just another thing you have to deal with. _

The adrenaline that had been coursing through her body had already begun to wear off and the physical and physiological agony she had been through was just starting to really take its toll. She knew the nasty burns on her arms, back, and face would be slow to heal and the bleeding cuts along her jaw line, legs, and torso would only impede that process further. She felt the sharp, recovering winds seem to weave their way through the open apertures of her bubbling skin and each of those tiny, persistent stings made her feel like screaming.

_I can't do that right now_, she reminded herself. _I can save it all for later. I can find out all the answers if I just keep taking apart all the things that keep me from asking questions._

* * *

_Crime Alley_

It didn't take a master strategist to anticipate that the battle for the Gotham skies would be both fast and frenetic. Additionally, anyone who still managed to doubt that particular hypothesis would only need to take in the normally murky skyline of the city and see how it had been rendered blindingly bright with all the backwash of energy being brought to bear by the thousands of Green Lanterns and Sinestro Corps members waging war within it. The maelstrom had lessened in its intensity over the passing of time, the scores of soldiers and warriors that had already fallen quickly taking its toll as more and more of the battle's participants began to see the value of survival over blind bravery. Those who were still both ready and eager to fight, their auras still burning with intensity and ardor, were also being given an exceedingly wider berth as the powerhouses continued to unconsciously search for others that shared their passion.

"_Keep an eye on those barriers, stern line!"_ Soranik Natu bellowed through the Corps' neural network, the former neurosurgeon more than eager to do what she could to save another planet from Sinestro's grand designs. Creating a series of tiny but precise bolts of emerald energy with her yearning to impede the monster that had overthrown everything she had ever known, the orange-skinned spacefarer was quick to fling her creation into a smattering of Yellow Lanterns that were threatening to make land fall. Her smile was small but still noticeable upon discovering that her idea had done its part, the clever move allowing the Korugarian and her fellow Corps members to forcefully push back the stragglers toward the center of the battlefield. "_Remember that our chief responsibility is to defend this city and its citizens until the attack team is able to disable the power battery. Hold to the code and we can win this thing!"_

An enormous explosion from several miles up caused Natu and dozens of the other surrounding combatants to startle in surprise, the shockwaves of the blast somehow being felt through all the havoc that was already assaulting the airborne theater of war. Wisely choosing not to be distracted for too long, the once-reluctant general of the Corps was able to use the distraction to her advantage, the woman's quick fists and lashes tearing into several Sinestro Corps members who had not been quite as focused. A rather dark part of her realized that her unique insights upon anatomy enabled her to be quite precise with her attacks, her knowledge and skill in mending bones and opening up blood flow now being unconsciously transformed into enabling her to cause greater harm. The realization made her just the slightest bit grateful that she couldn't quite match the destructive power of the Green Lantern that had been partially responsible for her latest successes.

"_Shouldn't we be doing anything about all that?" _asked a rookie Lantern whose name Natu couldn't quite remember (but probably should have given how many times he had pestered her with unnecessary questions).

"_Just let the hotshot handle it," _Natu replied while trying her best to keep her composure. _"If you stay alive long enough you'll find that he likes having all that attention."_

* * *

Hal Jordan moved with a fluidity and grace that no military jet or stunt plane could possibly match as he weaved his way around Leokar Kurkosaw's latest salvo while firing back with an array of mystic energy of his own. He wasn't surprised to find that what few blasts actually hit their intended target didn't appear to do a great deal of damage to the Sinestro Corps general, the emerald bolts seemingly bouncing off the muscular torso of the elephantine monster. As unorthodox as the defensive strategy may have seemed to a more polished battle veteran like Kilowog or Graf Toren, Hal could at least grudgingly appreciate the blunt, stomping forcefulness behind what the former prison warden was bringing to the table. He was reminded of one of the heavyweight boxers of old who would slog through someone's jabs not only because they knew they could but also for the fact that they would have liked nothing more but to end the fight with a single, good shot.

_I remember thinking that way_, Hal remembered somewhat wistfully as Kurkosaw's meaty, left fist came dangerously close to taking his head off. _Acting like I had the whole world in my hands_, he added as he peppered the Yellow Lantern's trunk and forehead with a series of jabs and hooks before a stiff left cross prompted him to pull back once again. _Of course, just a couple of seconds ago, I thought I could win a fist fight against a critter with 40-inch biceps so maybe I'm not as insightful as I thought_, he sourly accepted while backpedaling to get away from the alien's furious offensive.

"You throw a pretty mean punch, Elephant Man," the veteran Green Lantern said with a smile, the gesture an obvious effort to throw his adversary further off his concentrated game. "Guess you had plenty of practice beating down the guys and gals you were supposed to look after, huh?"

The snort of snot that blew from Kurkosaw's trunk in response made the founding member of The Justice League quite happy that he was currently flying above the hirsute warrior. "You are the worst criminal of them all," the Yellow Lantern countered with a low growl. "You're nothing but an unrepentant murderer who managed to avoid his punishment through little more than an act of calculated martyrdom. Long have I been waiting to properly punish you, Hal Jordan."

Earth's first Green Lantern on this plane of reality resisted the urge to roll his eyes in response to the familiar accusation. He hardly needed anyone to remind him of his deplorable actions while serving as a willing host of Parallax and it took very little of his impressive supply of willpower to stuff the guilt back down. Surging forward in a thick cocoon of energy, the former Air Force hotshot once again made a move to let his actions speak louder than his words.

_Moping about the past was only for cowards and French fighter pilots_, as his grandfather used to say.

"You think you can judge me, Kurkosaw?" Jordan asked gamely while willing his ring to create a wide-barreled, jade-colored energy cannon whose handle wrapped around his right shoulder with practiced ease. "Go ahead and try," he challenged before opening fire.

* * *

Meanwhile, down on the streets below, another imperfect warrior inspired by life and tempered by death was having a hard time figuring out just why she ever thought that this was a good place for her to be. Having long convinced herself of the futility of launching gas pellets and precise martial-arts strikes to creatures that had taken the best that Batman and Superman could offer, she kept her left hand tightly gripped around the pistol that she had used to routinely send forth bolts of energy that somehow managed to obliterate the molecular makeup of many of the Manhunters that had waltzed into her crosshairs. Still, as much as damage as she had done and how many lives she most likely helped to either prolong or outright save in the last hectic half hour, the masked woman couldn't help but still feel like the proverbial fish out of water.

"Too far out in the open," she said softly to herself, the noise that poured from her unseen lips quickly rendered impossible to hear by anyone around her thanks to the mask over her face. "You were right about this front, my friend. You kept telling me that it would be uncomfortable when I couldn't look at just one person at a time but I didn't believe it until I felt it, did I?"

As busy as her spoken thoughts were, the masked warrior couldn't help but hear the aggrieved scream to her left. Turning swiftly to pinpoint the source of it, she then received the unique privilege of watching a female Checkmate agent trapped within the cold grasp of one of the many surrounding Manhunters, the android's cold, green lenses bearing down on the human in its clutches with a phenomenally impassive cruelty. Restricting the urge to scream at the fate of a complete stranger, she could only raise her gun barrel just a second too late as the alien android fired a brief, electric pulse that hastily ran through the body of its victim and proceeded to burn the woman alive from the inside. She fired her pistol as soon as it was charged and ready, the realization that the woman's long, rich red hair was the last part of the poor soul to be set ablaze quite pressing in her mind as she watched the orange bolt of energy quickly incinerated her target.

_There's so much so that can happen here_, she thought nervously as she simultaneously looked for other targets while making certain she hadn't become a target herself. _So much that can go wrong that I can't just anticipate like you could. _

Her next shot was a great deal more timely, the minute blast of energy crashing into a Yellow Lantern's back and forcing the purple-skinned beast to let out a garbled grunt as it stumbled to the pavement, the skin on its muscular back sizzling. The painful distraction measure was not only enough to save the life of a Green Lantern but also helped the surrounding warriors of Oa to retake control of their small section of the ever-expanding battlefield.

"Still doing the little things," she said grimly but with a lingering note of satisfaction as her good deed went all but ignored by those around her. "It's all that you can do sometimes, isn't it?"

"HEY! MONTOYA!! How's about lendin' your old partner a hand here?"

It was probably a blessing that the smooth, featureless mask around her face kept Renee Montoya's reaction hidden from her requestor. As she hastily and unconsciously thought back to all the words and lessons about the need for anonymity and silent subterfuge that Vic had all but deluged her with for months on end, the woman who had inherited the mantle of The Question resisted the urge to panic at the thought that her cover had apparently been blown by perhaps the last person she had wanted to discover it.

Unfortunately, the time she took in deciding whether to ignore or react to the pointed call for assistance seemed to do little to ferment any shred of doubt that Harvey Bullock might have had. "It's getting pretty wooly out here, isn't it, pard?" the grizzled detective asked as he slammed his thick, right fist into the jaw of one of Talia Al-Ghul's corrupted assassins. "Still, I guess all these flashy doodads are helping things out a bit."

The Question found herself once again thankful for her mask's talent of keeping her facial expressions unseen as her former patrol partner in the Gotham City Police Department hastily created the spectral image of a brick wall and then sent it hurtling at a trio of Manhunters that were coming their way. Thankfully, the former detective was quick to maintain her composure as she tried hard not to wrap her mind around the question of how someone as ridiculously rigid as Harvey could learn how to properly operate one of Noah Kuttler's spectral image projectors so quickly. On the other hand, her refusal to ask that particularly frustrating question didn't stop the fact that she had to deal with how she would answer the question already on the table.

And, as it had always been between them, Bullock decided to make the decision for the both of them. "Y'know, I don't know what's worse," the portly bulldog of a man asked as The Question unconsciously moved closer to her old friend until they stood back-to-back, "the fact that you're apparently a costumed freak now or that you're dressin' up in a goofy hat and a fruity, powder-blue trench coat."

Montoya unconsciously let out a frown, the downward tilt of her lips causing the lower half of her facemask to cinch up a bit as she fired another shot from her pistol. Surprised to see that she wasn't imaging the android to be a rolly polly jackass who had worn the same trench coat and press hat to work every day for nearly five years, The Question took just a second to watch as the blast punched a hole through a Manhunter's stomach, the impact sending the rest of the former peace-keeping android crashing against a nearby parking meter.

"I wouldn't be one to talk, pendejo," Renee shot back, the burr within her response sounding comforting even to her. "Did you even bring a clean shirt to this thing?"

The Question could somehow hear Bullock's short, course laughter through all the energy cannons and screams, yet another piece of proof behind Vic's theory that anyone could find anything if they wanted to find it hard enough.

"Welcome to the party, pard."

* * *

Thomas Blake did not show a hint of mercy as he slid a dangerously sharp hunting knife through what he had guessed to be the alien's trachea, the sight of the Yellow Lantern falling to the ground in a bloody heap providing a good sign that he had at least hit a vital spot. His refusal to employ The Calculator's mass-produced equipment had yet to impede him a great deal, the master hunter's willingness to wait for his shot enabling him to overcome his far stronger but more distracted prey. Not bothering to waste the time it would take to wipe away the yellowish-green blood that had accumulated on his blade during its recent work, Catman let out a low growl as he plunged into another fray with his claws at the forefront. The small blades strapped to his twin gauntlets were quick to tear through the flesh of some of Talia's former employees, their painful liberation from the effects of The Mensobous Luminitas quite brief as Blake picked his shots in a way that would bring them a swift, efficient death.

_I hate this_, the former failure and laughingstock thought while hastily putting himself back on the hunt again. _Surrounded by all these self-styled heroes and do-gooders_, he added with even more bitterness while being forced to hastily roll away from a scattering of shots fired by a nearby Manhunter. _Most of these guys are being just as bloodthirsty as I was in my worst days and they'll get medals for it if they come out of this alive just because they've convinced themselves that they believe they can do no wrong. _

Thomas Blake was smart enough to realize that he was just deluding himself right now, the familiar, angry thoughts far more comforting to him than considering the war around him or brooding over what was really on his mind. After all, to think of the former would do little more than distract or frighten him at the present time and his previous contemplations of the latter was undoubtedly the biggest reason why he had thrown himself into this idiotic mess in the first place. No, it was far better for him to gnash his teeth at a nearby Green Lantern while using the alien warrior's distraction to hop onto another Manhunter's back, his face soon set in a determined scowl as his claws dug into the back and shoulders of the cyborg.

_This is something I don't have to be worried about_, Catman realized while prying himself loose from his most recent act of violence before the surrounding blue sparks could do anything more dangerous than bounce against his battle armor. _I just need to focus on the hunt. It's the simplest, smartest thing that I could do._

But he was already on the move before he even began to think about what he was doing, his well-honed ability to anticipate the unfolding of a hunting ground allowing him to see what was going to happen before Roy Harper ever could. A small part of Thomas's senses noted that the red-haired sharpshooter had spotted the Manhunter approaching his blindside but that same portion of Catman's instincts was just as quick to tell him that there wasn't enough time for Arsenal to do anything with that bit of information. Dashing through the empty space between him and his target at a pace that few ordinary humans could have matched, Catman launched himself into Harper's chest as the android's plasma bolt slid just inches past the both of them. Rolling along the ground for a second or two, his rapid movements also enabled him to mostly put out the small fire that had begun to spread on his heavy leggings as a result of the Manhunter's shot grazing the thick, cloth surface of his armor.

"Thanks for the save, Blake," Harper replied rather casually as he picked off the aggressive android with a perfect shot from one of his Karbarran energy pistols. "Still, I've got to say I'm a little surprised that you would put your ass on the. . . SHIT!!"

Neither Arsenal nor Catman were ready for the trio of Manhunters that had snuck above them, the slow whirring of the androids' servos and propulsion engines rendered all but silent by the cacophony around them. That necessary alacrity fell upon a red and white blur who managed to slide in between Vincent's shock troopers and the two trapped hunters, a spray of desperate gunfire briefly preceding him before being caught in the path of a trio of plasma bolts. The attacks landed in quick, deadly succession, the first two slamming into the man's left and right shoulder while the third threatened to punch through his sternum. Letting out a ragged gasp as he fell limply to the already cluttered ground, Floyd Lawton briefly heard the sound of gunshots as Harper moved quickly to pick off their attackers in response. Still a little bit surprised by what he had just done, the man known as Deadshot could feel his irritation about the whole thing begin to spike as Catman rushed to his side.

"What the hell did you do?"

Despite all the pain he was in, Lawton couldn't help but think that his friend looked absolutely, positively fucking ridiculous with that wide-eyed expression on his face. He was about to tell him that too before his eyes caught the sight of a familiar wave of blue washing over the remaining two cyborgs. Letting out a shabby laugh at the fact that somebody who willingly called himself Mister Freeze had just done a job that he had failed to fully finish, the assassin and marksman remained quiet as he listened to Fries and Harper tell Tommy to get him to safety. He even managed to stay silent as Catman quickly followed the impromptu order and the effort he had to put in to keep his eyes from closing leaving Deadshot occupied a few seconds longer than he would have liked.

"Put me down, Blake. Ya dumb fuck."

Deadshot dimly heard the sound of Blake's boots sliding against the pavement that ran in the middle of the alley way that Catman had apparently steered them towards. The feeling of his back being propped up against the nearby brick wall on the left side of the narrow passageway was ignored almost just as easily, the longtime hired gun once again focused on doing what he had to do.

"My kid. . . in Star City. . . Zoe." Lawton let out a wheeze as his breath was momentarily stolen from him by the burning in his chest. "I want ya to look out. . . look out fer her. She needs a good. . . good life."

Catman responded with a stern nod, the once nearly frantic mercenary quickly regaining his usual stoic professionalism. The reaction made Lawton want to let out a sarcastic smile and he probably cost himself a few more seconds by making certain that his facial muscles do what he wanted them to do.

"Get yer ass back in there, Litterbox. And ya better. . . ya better not fuck up my share of the loot."

Deadshot was surprised that he could feel his friend squeezing his shoulder, an unquestionable look of sincerity in the hunter's green eyes as Catman rose up to his feet and ran back towards the field of battle. Not even bothering to waste the energy he would need to watch Blake go, the masked mercenary decided that it was a much better idea to use the last bit of his strength to use his right hand to lift the lower half of his mask up over his lips while dipping his left hand down into a familiar pocket he had installed into his gun belt long ago. Those trembling fingers soon emerged with a lighter and a half-broken cigarette and the sheer amount of will power that Deadshot needed to employ in order to keep his hands from shaking or his eyes from wavering as he brought the tobacco stick to his lips was nothing short of phenomenal. Lighting the little cancer stick with a well-practiced motion, Floyd Lawton wasn't entirely certain if his lungs could even take in the nicotine at this state of the game but he had never been one to take such a little thing into consideration before and he was sure as shit wasn't going to start thinking about it now.

_Maybe this ain't such a bad way to go out after all. . ._

The smoke that Deadshot had let loose from his lips still lingered as the barely used cigarette toppled onto his unmoving chest.

* * *

All the cheering had gotten onto Kara's nerves even before she touched down, the unadulterated enthusiasm that the citizens of Metropolis had apparently stored up for her arrival doing little more than hurting her ears. She made a quick check of her newly fashioned facemask as she made landfall, the charcoal colored wool that now covered the majority of her face most likely not meshing at all with the tattered remains of the darker colored battle armor that Waynetech had poured over a million dollars into making. While a lagging part of her conscious was wanting to chastise her for stealing a sweater from a nearby department store at a speed of somewhere around Mach 4 just so she could make a rather haphazard mask, the vast majority of her energy was focused to the dual tasks of blotting out all the noise around her and trying to look noble and superheroey when she would rather just lie down and sleep for a week or so.

She noticed that no one was making any attempt to move closer to her cousin, the task of freeing The Man of Steel from his grisly confines apparently falling upon her as well. Nevertheless, she made her way to Kal-El with strong, even strides, her long arms quick to stretch out and grasp the hilts of the blades that had been long buried within her cousin's wrists. She did her best to avoid letting out the whisper of pain that bubbled up in her throat as the eldritch energy that empowered the blades attempted to hold her back, the short shelf life of The Silver Coyote's final cautionary measures quickly blunted by her hardened endurance against the forces of the supernatural. The stomach churning _schlufff _sound that rang in her ears as she slid the blades away from their long-standing confines was far more difficult to suffer through, the half-Kryptonian more than happy to quickly toss the blood-soaked blades aside in order to allow Superman to heal more efficiently.

The desperate gasps that rose from the surrounding citizens closely matched her own as she finally dislodged the dagger that kept Clark Kent's ankles bound together, the hero's sole, remaining support ultimately leaving Metropolis's champion to fall into her arms. She only needed a second to look at her cousin's eyes, those blue orbs that so closely resembled her father's now that she had the chance to really take a peek at them, to recognize that the gaze her cousin gave back to her in return was unseeing, the many weeks of delirium and blood loss most likely leaving the first person who ever truly trusted her in a state where he wouldn't even know that she was here.

"He always knew that you were still alive."

Kara didn't need to turn around and look to know who was speaking to her. She did so anyway, if only because the repercussions of not meeting Lois Lane's eyes would have been far worse. The fair-haired warrior found herself surprised to not be intimidated by the accusatory glare being fired back at her, the stern, confidence-laden countenance of the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter marred only slightly by the barest hints of tear tracks that ran from the corners of her lilac-colored eyes. Part of her wanted to rail at this near stranger for not racing towards her cousin, the man she was supposed to _love_ until death did they part or however these Earthlings put it, the nearest moment that she could.

But she soon put the pieces of the puzzle together. _She's not Kal's wife. She's Clark's. She betrays her emotions then she may as well publically give away the biggest secret of the planet's greatest hero._

And, just like that, a silent agreement was formed between Kara Zor-el and Lois Lane-Kent, an accord bonded in respect that neither woman could yet fully understand.

"He's been looking for you for months. Years," Lois continued, her voice only slightly softer than before and still holding an undercurrent of charge. "Everyone was certain that you were lost in The Crisis but nobody could convince him."

"I know," Kara replied with a whisper, the young woman scarcely sure of what she just happened to be agreeing with.

Lois shook her head back and forth, the slight, nervous trembling that rumbled through her small fingers all but unnoticeable. "Just where did you go, Supergirl?"

Kara tried not to flinch at the mention of that name. She still found it hard to believe how she had grown to hate that mark, that label that her cousin had given to her out of nothing more than love and respect. "I'm not a _girl_," she mumbled with more than a hint of resentment. "And, to be frank, I'd rather spend the rest of my life being called something other than 'Super'."

Lois gave Kara a solemn nod in response to the bitter words, the love of Clark Kent's life perhaps more aware than anyone of the thoughts that could dwell while standing in the shadow of The Last Son of Krypton. "Then what do we call you now?" she asked calmly.

"I'd prefer that you didn't."

The reply was quick, cold, definitive, and something that could have fit right at home at the front of any newspaper across the globe. However, as impressive of a sound bite as it might have been for most, it wasn't nearly enough to convince a woman's whose determination often put even Superman's to shame.

"Then what do I tell him?"

The daughter of Zor-el shut her eyes for just a moment or two while moving to gently set her cousin down onto the ground, the labored but steady breaths emerging from Superman's lips a good sign that he would recover quickly.

"Tell him that I'm happy. And tell him to keep being who he is so I can keep being who I want to be."

* * *

_Hong Kong – Chief Headquarters of Tenryu Enterprises _

The bloodlust in The Silver Coyote's eyes would have been easy to see if his hasty crashing through the 32nd through 43rd floors did not obscure the sight of his gleaming canines that managed to poke through the minute gap between Vincent Culp's narrow lips. Gaining merely a tenth of a second in his striking speed thanks to his fervent desire to plunge his katana through his little brother's heart, his brief act of teleporting to Lloyd's back was enough to bypass that slightly larger gap and offer the silver-haired murderer a clean shot at his adversary's neck. He made certain to come at Lloyd with a circular lash, his hypothesis of an eventual counter teleport quickly proving true as The Black Dog disappeared from his sights and reappeared behind him. His previous mixture of offense and defense enabled Vincent to meet Lloyd's counter slash with a cross block that resulted in a loud _clang _that resounded throughout the shambles of the office supplies closet on the building's 31st floor.

A race to see who could produce the quickest and most potent solar flare was soon to follow, the stored lunar energies that the half-demons had unconsciously gathered from the surrounding late afternoon already being transformed into something both dangerous and tangible. The contest ended up being too close to call, the twin bursts colliding together forcefully with an impact that produced a shockwave that sent the two warriors plummeting even further down the already ravaged sky scraper. Their swords also happened to slip free from their grasp in all the confusion, the mystic blades making their own downward travels as their owners crashed through glass, metal and wood for a good twenty stories before finally recovering their senses of direction.

Lloyd made sure to be moving even while scanning the new changes in the combat zone, The Black Dog wise to search for the first weapon he could find. He soon found himself grasping for the hilt of the _Kikuichi-monji_, the snakeskin handle of Vincent's favored blade sliding roughly against the calluses on his left hand. His ways and means acquired, it didn't take long at all for the young Brit to locate his target once again, the sight of Vincent also armed and on his feet quite easy for him to see.

"I'm afraid I've lost the taste for wielding the _Mugalshir_," Vincent fired back with just a hint of malicious mirth, the gleaming silver saber seemingly shining in tune with the lilt of The Silver Coyote's scratchy patois. "I mean no offense but perhaps the luster has faded from it in the passing years."

Lloyd let out a breath as he lazily spun his newly acquired katana within his otherwise sturdy grip.

"None taken. Personally, I find this blade to be a bit too slippery with blood for me to get a proper hold on it."

"As if you're one to talk, little brother."

A reddish sparkle flashed in both the warriors' eyes as they employed their telekinesis to send the mystic blades back into the clutches of their proper owners. The two brothers caught their blades with well-practiced motions well before either of them were within striking distance, the ever brief pause enabling them to better prepare themselves for the furious duel to come. The course, dusty air that had hung heavy over the enormous office building since the murder of its owner seemed to come to life in the wake of the collisions of eldritch energy that had been sparked by the two blades, the unnatural fusions producing sparks and slivers of heat that crackled and popped to life only to disappear only moments after. The seconds seem to stretch into hours as skin began to tear, blood began to spill, and the damage to the surrounding area continued to escalate within the wake of a war long in coming.

The Silver Coyote let out a clearly noticeable shout of frustration as he teleported away, the clever maneuvers of The Black Dog having forced him to briefly endure a close-up battle that favored Lloyd's blade and tactics over his. His unencumbered left hand was quick to resonate with a silver glow as the energy flowing in his veins began to mix with his blood and bone, the mystic luminosity quickly transforming into a scattering of shots that allowed Vincent even more room to work with. Letting out a smile as Lloyd brought his saber into a defensive position, the intent of reflecting the shots rather than avoiding them quickly making itself clear, The Silver Coyote waited for just the right moment to make yet another tactical teleportation, this time to Lloyd's right side in an effort to cause a good bit of damage to The Black Dog's weak hand. However, he soon found himself legitimately surprised to feel Lloyd's saber partially sinking into the right side of his abdomen, the gush of blood flowing from his back more than slightly outstripping the success he felt upon seeing the tip of his katana lash across his little brother's forehead.

_If at first you don't succeed. . . _Vincent quickly thought to himself while teleporting back to what was once the top floor of the building. A sick, opportunistic smile was quick to creep onto the older half-demon's face as he employed his telepathy to keep a track of Lloyd's location while using his telekinesis to simultaneously send the _Kikuichi-monji _hurtling straight towards his little brother. It was a perfect combination of his unique abilities and the subsequent inclusion of a series of energy bolts fired from his left hand only added to the brilliance of it as Vincent employed his mind's eye to watch Lloyd struggle with everything that he had just thrown at him.

_New trick, same strategy_, Lloyd thought back in response as he hastily constructed a telekinetic shield specifically designed to deflect the magic-fueled attacks from above while using his own saber to fend off the katana swooping down at him with quick and dangerous slashes. A hint of silver could be seen in his usually hazel eyes as he kept the left one focused on Vincent's blade and the right one on the task of looking for a lull in the long-range assault. Finally, after an almost 30-second flood of energy that had set the wood and steel around him ablaze, The Black Dog finally found the breathing room he needed to forcefully fling the _Mugalshir _upward with his left hand while using the back of his right hand to momentarily swat aside the flat of Vincent's katana.

Vincent let out a very ungentlemanly series of words while finding himself forced to lean his head and neck back at a dangerous angle in order to avoid the dangerous ascent of the saber aimed straight for the underside of his chin. The physical effort was enough to momentarily delay his long-distance defensive measures which, in turn, left him wide open for Lloyd to hammer him in the ribcage with an upward thrust kick. The Silver Coyote then felt his teeth clack as the same foot that had just temporarily cracked three of his lower ribs then harshly crashed into the back of his neck, the force behind the impact sending him into an awkward, forward lurch that he could only manage to recover from just a tenth of a second before a concentrated spiral blast of energy would have torn through his back and heart.

The Silver Coyote was soon on the move once again, his dive back down to the lower floors interrupted only momentarily by a series of teleports designed to avoid the blasts of energy Lloyd was sending his way. He almost let out a laugh as he employed his telekinesis to send the charred, beaten corpse of J'onn J'onnz crashing straight into Lloyd's face, the macabre maneuver filling him with a sick sense of instinctive brilliance as his enraged opponent joined him within the incinerated lobby area. The smile stayed on his face as he lowered his blood-stained body into a familiar stance, the very first defensive bearing that Nigel Thornton had ever shown to them. Just as he hoped, Lloyd was quick to follow suit, his younger brother's emphasis upon hunching his legs a few degrees less leaving The Black Dog with a more stable base of gravity while Vincent kept the high ground.

Much like the rest of the previous rounds of combat, the exchange of trap holds, short kicks, and fist and elbow strikes that had served as the veritable trademarks for Brazilian jujutsu ever since the art form's inception nearly a century ago proved to be both furious yet quite concentrated. The rising anger in both warriors somehow still managed to be balanced out by years of training and experience, that cool serenity meshing with the defensive based fighting strategies just as Nigel had once hoped it would. Metatarsus bones crashed into flexed heels and closed fists were parried quickly by tightened forearms as The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote put all their knowledge into breaking one another's defenses. The recoil that sprang up as Vincent's left fist crashed into Lloyd's face while the ball of The Black Dog's right foot made solid contact with The Silver Coyote's shin sent them both into a quick, backwards stumble.

Not surprisingly, the incident soon turned into another race, this time over who would recover with greater speed and sufficiency. The winner of the contest was quickly revealed as Vincent countered the focused stomp Lloyd had thrown in an effort to crush his opponent's skull with a sweep kick that temporarily sent Lloyd off of his feet. Not about to give his little brother the opportunity to run away from his disadvantage, Vincent teleported once again in order to bring his bulk straight down on Lloyd's chest, his long, lithe legs wrapping around The Black Dog's narrow but muscular chest before either of them could fall to the floor.

Putting his fists to their quick and bloody work, the silver-haired mastermind began to pound away at Lloyd's unprotected face with fists and elbows alike. Nearly two dozen unanswered blows managed to hit their marks before Vincent could faintly hear the slightest _whoosh _from just behind him. Quickly realizing why Lloyd hadn't yet managed to squirm his way out of the hastily made trap, The Silver Coyote teleported away only moments before his little brother's telekinetically-controlled saber could sink itself into his occipital ridge. His instinctual travel plans quickly brought him back to his own weapon of choice, the feeling of the katana that Mao Tenryu had personally given to him almost appeasing his rising frustrations.

Lloyd and Vincent both resumed their standard battle stance as the building around them let out a dangerous sounding tremble. Not needing to be architects to understand the idea that the foundation of even the most well-constructed buildings could only take so much, the two half-demons took a moment to stare one another down.

"This is supposed to be our test," Lloyd said heavily while pushing his lungs through several deep, tired breaths. "There's no need fer us to involve the rest of the world any more than it already is."

Vincent raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, the orchestrator of the previously mentioned chaos quietly testing the veracity of the proposition made by his oldest friend. Several long, stressful seconds passed before The Silver Coyote raised his beaten body up off the ground again, his travels far slower and significantly more measured than the previous hectic maneuvers. Lloyd followed behind with little trouble, the younger combatant well-aware of the current intentions of the leader of The Sinestro Corps if only because they were the same as his own. They began to accelerate as they left behind the city's gorgeous skyline, the clouds turned orange and purple by the waning sunlight quickly forgotten as the two of them soared ever higher.

"_I remember the first time Mao let us come up here," _Lloyd said, his softly spoken thoughts the only noise that either of them could hear as the two launched themselves up and through Earth's ionosphere. _"I couldn't get you to stop looking down at all the clouds and the oceans and the land below, Vincent. You told me that there was no way that something that beautiful could really be as ugly as you thought it to be."_

The Silver Coyote bristled at the memory as if he was ashamed to remember it. It did nothing more than to remind him of yet another past weakness, another foolishly constructed barrier that had once kept him from realizing what he had truly been created to do.

"_Where did that Vincent go?" _Lloyd asked, the undisguised sadness clear in the man's eyes.

The Black Dog felt both anticipation and dread as he watched his big brother's pale, blue eyes once again turn a smoky silver. He felt the power flow through his body before even realizing that he was doing it, his saber shining in the black light around him.

"_That pathetic shell is gone," _Vincent replied as he brought his katana to bear. _"And you will be the next one to fall."_

* * *

Misfits Confidential

HA! I managed to slide it on Friday after all! Forgive me for the somewhat late update but I've spent much of my week either playing Final Fantasy XII, working, working out, moving from a house over to a slightly smaller apartment, or going to college bowl games starring teams that I care nothing about so I haven't had as much time as I would usually have for anything that could be considered honest creativity. As always, thanks to every one who keeps on reading, thanks to everyone who has been reading the Christmas stories, and thanks in advance for hopefully forgiving me for killing off yet another of my favorite characters. I know that it doesn't make much sense right now but, just as a certain face-painting mass murderer would say, Deadshot's death is all part of the plan.

Just like the next chapter previews. It's all part of the plan. . .

* * *

Issue #79 Preview

We're neck deep in the big battle now and you know what that means: unnaturally long conversations about nothing at all between characters participating in almost mindless violence! Kyle Rayner, his mysterious partner, Cassandra Cain, Noah Kuttler, Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne, Sinestro, and even more are all coming to the plate and it will be up to me, this story's unfortunately incompetent pilot, to keep the next installment under 10,000 words. Watch the wordy insanity unfold in the eighth chapter of _Culp's War _and the next installment of The Misfits: Battletime Conversations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel.


	79. Wartime Discussions

Issue #79

Wartime Discussions

Kyle Rayner had long realized that he had done a great many stupid things in his life. When he was seven, for example, he had attempted to run away from home with nothing but one of his old sketchpads and a suitcase packed full of Legos. The willing exodus from his childhood home lasted no longer than an hour with his not so triumphant return resulting in a quick grounding and an even hastier series of meetings between his butt and a leather belt that his mother had been more than happy to put into place.

Of course, the man now known to many in the cosmos as Ion, Torchbearer for The Green Lantern Corps, at least had the excuse of being able to blame that particular display of foolishness on simply being too young to know any better. He could even use that same excuse for his exploits as a 16-year-old attempting to impress one Rachel McGraw, then captain of the cheerleading squad at his high school, by spray-painting what he still thought to be a very nice drawing of Rick Hunter's Veritech fighter. As one might have guessed, the only person who turned out to be less impressed by his efforts than the tall, long-legged girl of his adolescent dreams was the owner of the building that he had employed as his canvas. Oh, and it didn't help that the angry, middle-aged businessman just happened to be a member of his mother's church group, an association that allowed the bad news to be delivered as quickly as possible.

Then there was the night of his 19th birthday when he went drinking for the first time with his dorm mates at Berkeley, an incident that culminated with him falling asleep between two thankfully parked low riders just outside of Granada Park.

Or when he was 22 and somehow thought it was a good idea to get Alexandra Dewitt an electric blanket for a six-month anniversary present.

There was also any one of the handful of times he foolishly thought it was a good idea to go out to a bar with Wally when he knew that Roy was going to come along. He didn't feel comfortable going through all the sordid details at the present time but suffice it to say that the most infamous of these incidents left him so out of it that Arsenal had apparently convinced him to use his ring to emblazon _Sally Hemings was here_ on the stone sculpture of Thomas Jefferson's face on Mount Rushmore.

_I still can't believe Supes managed to keep us from being federally prosecuted for that one_, Ion thought with a shudder as he created the spectral image of hundreds upon hundreds of Tauros that he then sent streaming into the equally thick herd of Qwardian mercenaries and Phantom Zone escapees that had surrounded he and his newfound partner on all sides. As clever as his warding maneuver turned out to be, however, it still didn't take away from the depressing reality that he had managed to put himself into yet another ridiculous situation. Granted, one could argue against that theory but the comic book aficionado was well aware that anyone who would willingly plunge themselves into a battle with hopelessly high odds where the only real source of assistance was the towering, muscle-bound man close to his blind side clearly wasn't that bright of a bulb.

"Well, I survived all the previous stupid moves," Kyle said to himself in an attempt to appease himself while employing a hint of his temporal manipulation abilities to buy himself the time to shore up his defenses. "What's to say I can't get my way out of this?"

"Just who do you think you are speaking to, Terran?" his grizzled companion asked while delivering a savage haymaker that all but annihilated the face of a Phantom Zone escapee that had foolishly chosen to challenge him head on. "Kindly leave your idiocy away from this battlefield and focus upon the task at hand!"

Though the words thrown his way were certainly stern and strong, Kyle couldn't help but laugh at all the mind-numbing seriousness around him. "You know, this has _got _to be the weirdest team-up I've ever had," he confessed while knocking away a particular nasty looking member of Sinestro's Elite Guard with a right hook that Connor Hawke had taught him to throw during their joint tenure in The Justice League. "And I've partnered up with a guy who traveled around space on a surfboard!"

"I sincerely doubt that I could possibly care less about your past exploits," the angry warrior on Kyle's right replied quickly while unleashing an immense, crimson wave of energy. "To me you are nothing but another fool crafted into a laughably imperfect warrior by the hands of the galaxy's greatest pretenders."

"Oh, well, then I'll remember to tell the Guardians you said 'hi'," Ion shrewdly fired back while letting loose an emerald pulse of energy that rocketed off in the opposite direction before exploding in the midst of a surplus of mercenaries and prison escapees. "With that attitude I'm kind of surprised that you're apparently on my side."

The surrounding threats of a messy death and calls for order and better strategy made the environs a bit too noisy for the raven-haired Green Lantern to hear the scornful grunt expelled by the veteran warrior. "My decision has nothing to do with supporting your pathetic rabble," the old man all but bellowed. "This choice is spawned by the realization that I have been played for a fool by our shared enemy. This is a crime that neither I nor my noble house should ever endure!"

"Sounds good to me," Rayner hastily shouted back, the young illustrator and spacefarer hardly eager to look into the mouth of this particular gift horse. "Still, did you ever think of trying to convince your people with words instead of just caving in their heads?"

The rebel's response was momentarily impeded as the muscle-bound warrior busied himself with slamming his meaty, right foot into the gut of a Phantom Zone escapee that had managed to push through his energy wall. The rib-cracking impact caused the poor fool to be flung backward at a rate of speed that sent several dozen others toppling over in a display that prompted the warhorse to let out a healthy cackle. "Fool. How dare you think that I did not try to do such a thing!" he accused his unwanted comrade while swatting another adversary aside with a powerful backhand. "Our many years of unjust imprisonment have prompted my people to believe that Sinestro is in the right. This mass confusion is yet another crime that the leader of this retched ball of mud must answer for and I will take great pride in administering the penalty."

"Is that right?" Ion inquired a bit half-heartedly, his attentions far more focused on the appearance of another wave of soldiers appearing from the northeast hall.

"Indeed," Rayner's comrade shouted back, the creature's desire to express his thoughts apparently too strong to pay proper attention to his audience's lack of attention. "I shall weather the burden of having to punish my people for their ignorance. I shall venerate the proud history of my people by punishing all those who have fallen by our wayside, our legacy. . ."

Kyle strongly suspected that his newfound partner would have been more than happy to keep telling him just how noble his actions were but a wave of black energy that crashed into the old man's sternum briefly silenced him. The impact caused the both of them to be knocked down onto the already cluttered battleground but, to his surprise, not a one of their many foes appeared to make any attempt to capitalize upon the situation. The questions brought up by this turn of events were nearly summarily silenced by his ring's detection of the unexpected attacker. The subsequent desire to see a more familiar face, regardless of how much he wished that she wasn't here, prompted Ion to swerve his attentions towards the unwanted presence.

"It's been a while, Mister Rayner," said the orange-skinned, statuesque warrior woman now hovering above the battle, the words seemingly slithering out of her full, lavender-colored lips. "Tell me, have you managed to lose another lady love since our last meeting?"

"Blackfire," Kyle said with an unconscious snarl, the sight of the disgraced princess of the former Tamaranean Empire causing a hot well of anger to run through him. "Why are you here? This conflict shouldn't have anything to do with you."

The alien known by some as Komand'r replied with a slow smile while running her fingers through her waist-length auburn hair. It was a response that a generous proportion of the galaxy's population would have found to be quite alluring but the almost sadistic glow in the alien's pupiless, green eyes did quite a bit to mar the beautiful creature's features. "Now, now, Green Lantern. Or is it Ion, now?" Blackfire responded with an unimpressed purr. "I hope that you've learned enough of history to realize that any budding empire requires capital. The political benefits of forming an alliance with Qward, along with the 250 million meseta reward for your death or capture, will do a great deal in setting my dreams in the right direction."

Ion shifted his eyes back and forth as more of Blackfire's troopers flowed into the battlefield, the dozens of disgraced Thangaarian warriors and Psions quick to replace the alien warriors that had either been killed or broken on the already busy battlefield. "And here I thought you were just tired of K'ory handing you your ass on a monthly basis," he fired back with what he hoped to be a confident smirk.

A momentary flicker of anger rumbled through Blackfire's lovely face before the former prisoner of war regained her composure. "There's no need to worry over that, Mister Rayner. I assure you that my dear, little sister can be dealt with whenever I choose," the budding despot smoothly answered. "You, however, must be done away with immediately before you can interfere with my plans any further."

It didn't take long for the haughty words of a noble that had long fallen from grace to be interrupted once again. This time, however, a thin but powerful blast of crimson-colored energy that erupted from the eyes of Kyle's angry company replaced the swell of solar radiation that had been forced upon Blackfire by the despotic geneticists of the fallen Psion Empire. Komand'r wasn't nearly quick enough to dodge the attack, the intensity of it overcoming the capacities of her body's solar storage batteries and forcing her to be hurtled into the roof of the crowded citadel. Much like Blackfire's unexpected opening assault, the counter did little to no extensive damage to its target. In fact, the only noticeable reactions from the blast was the burning and fraying of a portion of Komandr's battle armor and the emergence of the fury in Blackfire's eyes as she rushed forward ahead of her troops in order to be the first to respond.

"YOU DARE BELIEVE THAT I CAN BE CAST ASIDE SO EASILY, WOMAN?!" the old man bellowed, his superior speed enabling him to wind his way around the Tamaranean's blind charge before sending the tyrant turned bounty hunter flying backward once again with a powerful, upward sweeping double-ax handle. "YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A DISGRACED WHORE OF A FORGOTTEN PEOPLE WHO COULD ONLY SERVE AS LITTLE MORE THAN SERVENTS AND SLATTERNS IN THEIR FINEST HOUR! YOU, AND ALL WHO CHOOSE TO SERVE UNDER YOU, WILL _KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!!_"

* * *

_Crime Alley_

As experienced as he was with the necessary task of counting his ammo reserves while on a crowded battleground, Roy Harper had to admit that all the noise around him was making it a little difficult. That being said, the impressive array of former assassins, Manhunters, and Yellow Lanterns that he had managed to bring down with the aid of his small army of Karbarran energy pistols did quite a bit to help Arsenal find relief from his organizational frustrations. What made it even better, however, was that he could also trumpet his surprising successes upon a pair of familiar ears, the joy that always seemed to come from taunting the person currently watching his back just as strong as it had always been.

"Damn, I've been kicking so much ass today that I've lost count of just how much ass I've kicked!" the red-headed sharpshooter crowed to his unwilling audience. "Tell you what," he added while picking off yet another Manhunter hovering about 75 yards to the north-northwest, the yellow ray of energy punching a picture-perfect shot straight through the android's cybernetic brain before rattling off the energy barrier supplied by Soranik Natu and her troops, "how about you tell me how many creeps you've taken down. That way I can just triple that and I can make that my educated guess."

Arsenal wasn't the least bit surprised by the fact that Nightwing chose not to respond immediately, the sight of the man in the domino mask ducking under the dangerously fast left hook of a nearby Manhunter a clear sign that his old buddy was busy. The quick but precise movements of the young field commander left Dick Grayson in a perfect position to slam both of his escrima sticks into the metallic knee joints of his far stronger opponent, the wise employment of physics and force enabling him to topple his challenger over. Roy, in turn, did not need to hear a word to realize his newfound part of their little play, the marksman blasting their fallen foe through the cranium. The red-haired former Teen Titan temporarily lost track of his friend as Nightwing pushed his long, athletically built legs through a side somersault. The maneuver, a display of agility and flexibility that even the world's greatest gymnasts would be hard-pressed to duplicate, enabled the former professional acrobat to not only avoid the downward slice of a glaive-wielding former member of Talia's League of Assassins but also put an end to the latest of brief skirmishes with a downward smash that brought his right escrima stick down straight at the base of the back of the neck of his enthralled opponent.

"You know the only reason you're winning is because of all those new toys of yours," the former partner of Gotham's Caped Crusader shrewdly replied while his active eyes searched for the closest defeatable foe. "It's just like the only times you ever beat me in _Goldeneye _was when you somehow managed to get your grubby mitts on a rocket launcher before I could find where you spawned."

"Well, paaaaardon me for using everything I'm given instead of being stupid enough to just flit around with a couple of pick-up sticks," Arsenal fired back in an almost playful manner. The former Checkmate agent then thought about what he would say to follow as he chose to pocket the now overheated pistol in his right hand with another one strapped to his belt. "Oh, and to be fair, I didn't have an obsessive father who trained me to fight 24/7 or forced me to wear pixie shorts."

"You know, I still think you were just jealous of the fact that Donna kept staring at my legs," Nightwing fired back with a hint of sourness while going to war with another spellbound killer. "And don't get mad at me for your decision to pair yourself up with a hot-headed horndog who always needs somebody to bail him out of whatever shit he gets into and will apparently sleep with any willing woman within a 500-mile radius."

"HEY!" Arsenal barked, his response running strong and startled while he let loose a shot that momentarily stymied a nearby member of The Sinestro Corps. "You better not be disrespecting Black Canary with that 'any willing woman' crap!"

"No, sir," Nightwing shrewdly replied. "I've got nothing against Dinah. Just the Shit Tree of Star City and the first apple that fell from it."

"Well, I guess it's good that all you're doing is dogging Ollie's parenting skills," Roy confessed while taking a half of a second to line up his sights in order to better find his next victim. "'Cause here I was suspectin' that this was just you getting all pissy again for all those times G.A. flirted with Babs."

Dick Grayson was already prepping up some choice words for his longtime friend and rival before a series of familiar _thunks _caught his ears. Turning to his two o'clock, he couldn't help but let out a small smile as another well-known sound, this one the sharp _reeeethip _of a collected zip line, was followed closely by the sight of Cecilia King-Jones slamming her feet into the chest plate of a nearby Manhunter. The combination of the force behind the young archer's latest attack and the critical state that the android had been put into by Arrowette's previous assault was enough to topple the murderous machine over, the resounding crash easily blunting the young woman's soft but swift footsteps that began the moment she hit the ground.

"You think you two had it rough?" Cecilia asked while reaching her right hand into the less populated quiver strapped to her back, the twin carriers and their contents apparently not impeding the young warrior. "When I was seven my mother would wake me up at 5 o'clock in the morning everyday just so I could get in two hours of target practice before I went to elementary school!"

Neither Arsenal nor Nightwing took the risk of sitting still and watching as their younger companion set her arrow to the string just a shade of a second before letting it fly. The razor tip of the long, thin projectile was quick to find purchase alongside the rear, passenger side tire of a nearby school bus parked nearly 100 yards away. The minute supply of C-4 strapped to the shaft was quick to go off with the aid of the time-release mechanism designed by Lucius Fox, the ensuing blast resulting in a series of follow-up explosions and shockwaves that scattered more than a handful of Talia's former employees as well as a cadre of surrounding Manhunters and unprepared members of The Sinestro Corps. Even more damage was wrought by Cecilia's clever move as the blackened remains of the annihilated piece of public transportation flipped backwards before toppling onto another assortment of adversaries, the tons of broken metal and burnt cotton impeding their foes for a few more necessary seconds.

"And don't forget that ridiculous outfit that she forced you into when she made you audition for Timbo and the rest of Young Justice," Roy shouted back, his ears still ringing from the previous bangs and booms. "Good gravy, that thing made Dickie's first disco outfit look dignified!"

Arrowette and Nightwing managed to let out an almost stereo "FUCK YOU!" aimed at their boisterous collaborator just before the air around them became flooded with purple-colored sparks of energy that seemed to flit around them. Although it was pretty easy to be distracted by the shouts and curses of their surrounding foes as they endured the bizarre distraction, Richard Grayson couldn't help but notice that the embers of spectral energy appeared to be shaped like bats. Already having a good guess in regards to the source of this intriguingly bizarre maneuver, the former Teen Titan leader simultaneously kept a lookout on any lesser engrossed adversaries while watching another familiar figure leapt into view. He didn't have to strain his eyes to see the sweat still teeming upon the exotic woman's brow and the added sign of how the black battle armor seemed to cling to her admittedly impressive curves provided further evidence that his fellow field general had exerted herself significantly over the course of the passing minutes.

"My father forced me to learn 12 different ways of destroying a minimum of one third of the world's population before I turned eight," Talia Al-Ghul sternly told her audience, the turbines within the spectral projector strapped to her back already humming with the effort of recharging its short-term batteries. "I was arranged to be married to a German land baron who previously held ties to the Nationalsozialismus party when I was only 10 and, in the five decades since, my father had attempted to kill me on over a dozen occasions while most likely forever impeding me from any possibility of receiving the affection of the only man I believe I could ever love."

The Daughter of The Demon's Head ran off without waiting for any kind of response, the leader of what remained of The League of Assassins well aware of the fact that there were other places that required her attention more. Of course, this also left Arsenal, Arrowette, and Nightwing with nearly a dozen disoriented enemy troops who appeared to be quite ripe for the picking.

"I think she won," Arrowette murmured, the young archer speaking quietly so as not to incur her leader's wrath.

"And you're honestly telling me you _never _wanted to bang her, Nightthing?"

As she let another arrow fly, Cecilia was quite confident that she could have shouted what she was thinking and still wouldn't have been the recipient of the Batglare that Dick was most likely sporting on his handsome but stern features.

* * *

_Barcelona_

To make what could be a potentially long story short, Stephanie Brown couldn't have told you the difference between a jab and a hook four years ago, much less give you a detailed response behind the subtle strategic choices spawned by either the forearm block that she vetoed or the tricep turn that she eventually employed to regain the offensive in the battle at hand. In fact, the former sheer incompetence of the fair-haired Gothamite who once thought that all she needed to fight crime was an eggplant-colored outfit and a mask that covered her face was perhaps what made what Robin was doing now so astonishing. It was that seemingly boundless determination to learn, along with the power provided to her by the bauble on her right ring finger, which had now made her more than a match for nearly any warrior or monster throughout the galaxy. There wasn't a single goofy joke, nasty insult, or cheery smile that could fully hide that fact anymore.

Of course, another certainty that could be found on this battlefield is that Robin's opponent had acquired a similar reputation even before the day she was born. Though their public records would never present such a mistake in judgment, the Guardians, Sinestro's former superiors, never held any inclination that Sinestro would craft himself into the phenomenally skilled and ruthlessly efficient combatant he was today. He was viewed by those supposed gods as nothing more than a temporary remedy, a barely willing volunteer that they would cast into history's unforgiving waters and forget the moment that the tide had swamped the simple Korugarian. They didn't anticipate that Sinestro would have so much time to explore the cosmos and witness all the wrongs that he believed he could make right. That prolonged glance into something more turned a creature who had once devoted his life to preserving civilizations long lost into a phenomenally willful soldier who would better the future instead of preserve the past. His deeds, as ignoble and despotic as they may seem in the eyes of many, could only have been accomplished by a soul who held not only the determination to fight for everything that could be earned but also the courage to walk a path that few would ever willingly negotiate.

Sinestro was well aware of his accomplishments, so much so that he found himself surprised by the fact that the match was going as evenly as it was. The dictator had come to legitimately respect the Terran's strategy, her usage of simple though nearly seamless defensive maneuvers serving as a suitable counter for the aggressive attacking style that had earned him countless victories throughout the cosmos. The little Green Lantern struck not just when she thought she saw a momentary advantage but when she was confident that she would emerge the victor in the minor exchange to come. Although his own skill did a good part in helping muddy the waters between Robin's hypotheses and the actual results more often than not, the long-limbed Korugarian warrior had lost count of the failed number of feints and traps that he had placed down over the course of the extended skirmish. Whatever fear pervaded her thoughts and movements in the early going had clearly faded away, the momentarily vulnerable girl now shifting into a soldier who did not possess Jordan's overconfidence, Gardner's foolishness, or Rayner and Stewart's temerity for the increasingly violent combat.

_Clever little girl_, he thought with a smirk while dodging a palm thrust sent his way by a hair's breadth. _Much like your teacher, you present yourself as the weak link while making it ridiculously obvious that you are anything but feeble_.

Ironically enough, it was at that moment when Robin had made her biggest mistake since the two of them had chosen to strictly engage in hand-to-hand combat. Stretching herself a bit too far with a right hook, Stephanie let out a gasp as Sinestro blocked the strike with a flexed tricep muscle. The fraction of a second she needed to break free from the wrist lock to follow was more than enough time to allow the dictator of Qward to land a harsh haymaker to the left side of Robin's head. The added recovery time tacked on by the stiff counter allowed the older combatant to land several more just like it, her brain seemingly shouting warning bells that grew louder and louder each time Sinestro's sturdy fist crashed into the side of her skull. Acting more out of instinct than anything else, the young Green Lantern managed to take advantage of her opponent's zeal for the situation at hand and fired back with a perfectly placed head butt that sent the Sinestro Corps leader stumbling backwards with a lurch.

Biting back the shaky feeling in her skull and stomach, Stephanie similarly ignored the whining from her tired legs as she lashed her right foot around and upward, the spin kick landing squarely on Sinestro's jaw just before the jut of bone and skin was out of her kicking range. Bringing her busy limb forward the moment she retained her center of gravity, the young fighter rushed forward for a handful of steps before planting the still throbbing foot and launching her slight but powerful body through an Aikido-style, double-footed spin kick that allowed her to push her left foot straight into the sternum of her aggrieved adversary's just shortly before she landed a perfect shot to the bridge of Sinestro's forehead with her right. Realizing that her foe was reeling, she kept her momentum rolling and leapt into the air once again, this time twisting her body into a double-footed sidekick aimed straight for her foe's hyoid bone.

It was a combination of slight luck and prodigious skill that enabled Sinestro to regain the advantage. Reading his adversary's intentions by keeping one eye on the twisting of Robin's neck, he managed to regain his senses just enough to twist his tall, lithe body to the right while stretching out his hands. Though his momentarily wooziness kept him from getting as much of a grip on the young woman's ankles as he would have liked, the force he was able to put into the downward swinging of his arms was more than enough to allow him to slam his foe into the ground so that the black plaster and cement of the roof of the building that served as their battleground began to crack and splinter. His quickly recovering senses allowed him to briefly treasure the shattering of bones in Robin's face that messily coincided with the strangled grunt forced from the young Earthling's long-bloodied lips.

Like his younger counterpart had chosen to do, Sinestro moved to capitalize the moment he recovered a shade of his equilibrium. His normally unruffled, unhurried gait became fast and determined as he tensed his left ankle in order to build up enough force to launch a kick that would most likely cave in the left side of the Green Lantern's already battered skull. The Yellow Lantern felt his frustration bubble as his antagonist dodged his strike by the slimmest of margins and his aggravation continued to spike as an obviously instinctual arm thrust fired back by the young Terran turned out to be just enough to send him tumbling to the ground. His window of opportunity had already shut by the time he was able to recover himself, the blood smeared and streaming down the Green Lantern's face seemingly not disturbing or distracting the woman in the least from the task of rebuilding her defenses.

"Enough," Sinestro finally declared, the veteran soldier recognizing yet another stalemate when he saw it. "It is done."

The absurdly wide-eyed look that Robin gave to him in response almost caused Sinestro to unintentionally sputter out a round of laughter. Thankfully, he was able to keep his composure while Stephanie managed to narrow her eyes.

"What?" Stephanie said with a hint of a gasp, the young Green Lantern seemingly irritated by the fact that she was breathing hard. "You're tired of. . . tired of me kickin' your tuckass?"

A half-smirk that seemed eerily similar to Bruce Wayne's managed to twist its way onto Sinestro's long, sinewy façade. "All that familiar determination, fire, and loyalty," he noted while the black blood that crept from his nasal passages threatened to slide down onto his thin lips. "How could I have ever been so similarly blind?"

The words were enough to prompt Stephanie's anger to simmer but the suspicion was still deep in her pale, blue eyes. "What the fuck are you going on about?" she asked brusquely.

Sinestro's response was far less guarded. "You are a warrior with frightening potential, Stephanie Brown. Much like your comrades Mister Thomas and Miss Zor-el, it is obvious that the only limits to your power are those that you allow to be put upon you, either by yourself or those who wish to use what you are for their ill-gotten gains."

As one might expect, the kind words did little to allay the Green Lantern's suspicions. "And what, oh what, are you trying to say, Mister Magic Moustache Man," Stephanie replied with a growl that seemed to be split between good humor and malicious intent. "You want me to join you on the dark side of The Force?"

"I want to make certain that you will be prepared for what is to come." Sinestro shrewdly countered. "You will require a sound guide in order to make your way through your necessary path and I have put it upon myself to make certain that you have what you will need."

"I already have that." Stephanie's answer was nothing but a determined growl, a choice of response taken straight from the playbook of the man she had chosen to momentarily protect. "And I don't give a good damn about what you want to do with me and I'm gonna make sure you don't get away after what you've done to him."

The overlord of Qward did not let out so much as a sigh as he slowly took to the air, the golden aura around his slender physique lifting his body upward even as his tired muscles remained inert. He was well aware that the emergence of Stephanie's energy claws was all but instinctual, the young woman clearly eager to get back to whatever certainties he had in store for them. His memories of never liking when others placed him in such circumstances somehow struck his sympathies and that moved him to finish his intentions.

"We all have matters we must watch over, Stephanie Brown. As it happens, my concerns lie in ensuring the safety of all that lives peacefully. The storm approaching us is harsh and unyielding and will require the greatest supports we can build in order to endure them. Take pride in the fact that you have proven yourself as one who may be able to weather it."

There were precious few things that could have diverted Robin's sights from the infuriating alien floating just above her. However, the clacking sounds of eldritch manacles unlocking themselves and the strangled grunt of a good man happened to fit the bill. Of course, the fair-haired warrior managed to still keep one eye on Sinestro as she rushed to catch The Batman before he could topple to the ground. The spark in her heart was warm and grateful as Bruce all but fell into her arms, the protective instincts of someone who had lost so much in the past finally being rewarded for their diligence.

"Perhaps you should ask Mister Wayne about just how many times I could have killed him during his incarceration," Sinestro asked Robin, the former space hero seemingly unruffled by his adversary's relief. "Or, if that isn't enough, I would suggest asking your dark knight on just how he could have possibly survived the wrath of my companions if I had not been able to watch over him."

Robin was quick to turn her full attentions back to the co-leader of The Sinestro Corps, the young Green Lantern furious but still attentive to the meaning behind the words as a portal opened up at the Korugarian's back. Her ring's reserves were more than capable of analyzing the transdimensional energy manifested by the gate's construction as the purple-skinned dictator made his way through it, the anti-matter resonance brimming from it still ringing clear even after Sinestro had faded from sight. She wanted to be frustrated by all the goings-on, perhaps even furious that her apparent rival and overseer could even think that she owed him a debt of gratitude but the release of the anxious thoughts that had beaten her brain around for weeks on end was far too encompassing.

_I found him_, Steph couldn't help but say to herself, over and over, as she wrapped her arms tightly around Batman's torso.

"Robin."

The single, harshly spoken word wasn't nearly enough to pry Stephanie Brown away, the young woman quick to nestle the left side of her head against Bruce's chest. With enough effort, she could think that the beating of the old man's heart could run right along with the throbbing in her skull. Meanwhile, on the other side of things, Bruce's instincts as a detective told him that is should have been impossible for Robin's blonde mane to get through the thick rubber and synthesized titanium weave of his chest plate but the tickling sensation was there nevertheless. The feeling prompted him to let out an annoyed grunt as Stephanie's embrace only grew stronger.

"We've still got a battle to win, Robin. It's time to get to work."

"Nope," Stephanie said quickly but resolutely as she pressed herself against Batman even more. "Not yet. Less criticizing, more hugging."

It didn't take nearly as long for Bruce to let loose his frustration this time, The Batman clearly growing uncomfortable with having to deal with such a bald display of affection. Thankfully, the young woman seemed to sense that and she pulled her head back to look straight into his eyes.

"I just wanna make sure that you're here," she said with a soft croak.

The words and the emotions behind them were enough to prompt The Batman to return the Green Lantern's embrace, his weary arms slowly recovering enough of their strength to give back just a portion of the warmth and affection that the young woman seemed so eager to bestow upon him. He forced himself to bask in it for just a little bit longer before he put himself back in the fight.

"We need to go to Paris, Stephanie," he then said sternly. "Call Jordan and ask if there are any Lanterns he can spare from Gotham."

Robin pushed herself away from the raven-haired vigilante while raising her eyebrows in surprise, the young woman intrigued that her boss and teacher would be so quick to resort to the aid of what she thought to be a bitter enemy.

"It's high time that I do my share," The Caped Crusader of Gotham City replied. "But the fact remains that I'm going to need some help to do that."

* * *

_Crime Alley_

Try as she might to avoid it, Cassandra Cain discovered that at least a portion of her active thoughts still remained devoted to the task of counting just how many profane words had been spewed from the lips of her swarthy compatriots. In her defense, that potential distraction could only do so much in denying the fact that she had been taught to either look for or produce the best possible avenue for attack since she was five years old. That amount of experience in such an important field enabled her to still keep herself both active and alive in an environment that had claimed the lives of many whose strength exceeded hers a hundred times over. Her supply sacks and belt pockets may have been emptied long ago and the hilt of the katana in her right hand may have grown slick to the touch from all the blood and sweat that had slipped into it but such inconveniences continued to be little more than trifles, distractions easily deemed unworthy of her attention.

So perhaps it was excusable that she knew that the man to her left had uttered his 26th "F-Burger", as Stephanie had occasionally referred to it during their shared patrols, since the battle began. Of course, another reason for that lack of concern was that, as frustrated as he sounded, Guy Gardner seemed to have little trouble with continuing to go through the motions, the veteran Green Lantern quick to shove an emerald-colored energy spike through the skull of a nearby Manhunter. Despite the shabby state of his one, remaining arm, the mop-topped warrior looked more than willing to continue to take on anyone who came his way, the former street punk's determination and will to piss off anybody who rubbed him the wrong way filling the blonde-haired former barrister with a power that few would be able to draw upon in such a dangerous situation.

"Wot's with you Yanks and that word?" Nigel Thornton bellowed back, the ill-tempered bartender quick to further express his frustration with a swift, dangerous swing of his double-bladed hatchet. "Iz like you lot can't get through ya everyday lives without lettin' loose some nasty words," the squat fellow with the dingy, spiky, blonde hair added while the right blade of his ax found purchase in the pocket of flesh and muscle just beneath a nearby Yellow Lantern's left armpit. The imprecise strike left a wound that would have likely been far too grievous for the Sinestro Corps member to recover from even if a quick and messy decapitation performed by the former bodyguard of Mao Tenryu had subsequently removed any need for debate concerning sutures or hemorrhaging. "Pretty bloody sad considerin' all the money ya throw into that soddin' pit you lot call an education system!"

Batgirl couldn't help but shake her head as she forced her ears away from the argument to come. As she tried to take heart in The Batman's grudging admittance that situations such as these "takes all types to finish properly", the former child assassin and current member of The Secret Six quickly continued her search for any target that she could sufficiently sink her metaphorical teeth into.

"Hey, Batchick! Don't get yourself in too much trouble now!" the vulgar Green Lantern yelled back at her. "I'm still interested in makin' with the winin' and dinin' later!"

Perhaps it wasn't too surprising that Cassandra suddenly found herself a little too disgusted to speak as she took note of a distracted Manhunter, the automaton apparently so engrossed with bringing down a nearby Green Lantern that it had left its back open to her.

"Oi! Howz about layin' off tha little one!" Nigel shouted back, the squat fellow apparently more than willing to pick up the slack. "Leave ya want to bugger Batman on the sidelines!"

The former street informer of Barbara Gordon found herself truly grateful for the fact that her fast steps kept her too engrossed to pay full attention to just whatever the hell was going on behind her.

"How about you keep your mind out of the gutter, ya limey load!" Guy shouted back. "I'm just sayin' I like a lady that can give as good as she gets, know what I'm sayin?"

Far more comfortable with expressing herself with actions rather than words, Cassandra reared back her right arm at just the precise angle she would need to sling her blade directly at the back of her target's neck. The young woman hardly missed a step as she heaved the long blade towards its intended destination and her pace was quickly restored only a moment after the sharp edge pierced through the android's stem servos. A small, somewhat sick part of her hoped that her unusual admirer was watching as she threw herself into a running leap with her small hands at the forefront, the young mercenary hoping that the revolting Green Lantern would get the message. Grasping the hilt of her weapon with her fully outstretched arms, she used all the leg strength she could muster to swing her body around in a tight half-circle, the combined supports of her weapon of choice and the strength of her opponent's positronic spine serving as a more than passable fulcrum as she subsequently slammed her extended feet into the Manhunter's face. Cause and effect was as quick to throw itself into gear as it always was, the circular slicing of Batgirl's blade and the strength behind her kick enough to cleave the robot's head from its shoulders and send it down in a shower of sparks.

"Well, that just makes me all hot and bothered," Guy Gardner remarked, the Green Lantern having clearly kept his eyes on Batgirl's exploits the entire time.

"Mister Gardner, I demand that you cease this display of repellent ramblings as soon as possible," The Calculator demanded from the relatively safety of the communications hub deep below Wayne Manor. "I hardly require such horrid distractions within such a hectic atmosphere."

"My apologies, Brain Guy," Nigel Thornton replied, the plump barbarian appeasing the hacker's already frayed nerves while pushing his own body into a mighty upward leap that would allow him to draw a better bead on the Yellow Lanterns passing up above him. "Feel free to accept them in Gardner's stead since we both know that 'Captain Bowlcut' isn't gonna say 'em."

"You have my thanks, Mister Thornton," Noah replied with a hint of stiffness while Nigel claimed another unfortunate victim with his already blood-stained hatchet. "I believe you asked for an update concerning the full goings-on upon our theater of war?"

"Wouldn't hurt," Nigel answered as his stumpy feet once again landed on solid ground with an impact that momentarily shook a small portion of the ground around him.

"Well, I am loathe to say that matters are much the same as before," The Calculator proclaimed while the three busy warriors began to instinctively close ranks. "The airborne Corps members remain grossly outnumbered, defensive safeguards are falling faster than Soranik Natu and her troops can build them back up and our ground troops continue to fall at a decidedly unhealthy rate."

"Want our little band o' vagabonds to move to another spot?" Nigel asked while the corner of his left eye caught the sight of a green energy shield protecting Batgirl from any damage that could have been wrought by a hail of plasma bolts fired by some nearby Manhunters.

"Not at all," The Calculator answered. "As a matter of fact, the front you've established is arguably one of the most stable settings we have to offer."

The former teacher of The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote found himself twisting his lips into a frown as he watched several more Yellow Lanterns descend to his right. "Thas' not the best news I could be hearin'," he said grimly while readying himself for another battle.

_WHOOOOOOSH!_

"COR BLIMEY!"

Even Batgirl found herself letting out a gasp of surprise in response to all the sudden, earthshaking noise, her reaction not only due to the older man's shock but also by what produced it. A blur of red seemed to dash in front of her eyes as the surrounding Manhunters and Yellow Lanterns were tossed aside like twigs within a raging whirlwind. As chaotic as it all may have seemed at first glance, however, it didn't take long for her to notice that only Vincent's forces appeared to be harmed by whatever engine of destruction now roamed in their midst while she and the surrounding members of Nightwing's army were temporarily left with little more to do than to recover themselves before pitching back into the fight.

"Well, that should free things up a bit," Cassandra heard Nigel say as The Flash continued his concentrated rush towards the other side of the battlefield.

"Ya think that was somethin'?" Guy asked in response, the veteran battler apparently not fully distracted by the display just put on by The Fastest Man Alive. "Look up in the sky."

Both Cassandra and Nigel involuntarily followed their partner's suggestion, their quick response leaving them with just enough time to see another vague impression of a figure moving far faster than what most would have even thought possible. However, instead of rushing across the sturdy streets of this long-suffering city, this one had chosen to race downward from the stormy clouds above. Though the damage wrought by The Flash's preliminary assault was far too much for her to match under the circumstances, the newfound figure was still more than capable of knocking aside her fair share of androids, assassins, and Sinestro Corps members with a combination of flying fists and an explosion of solar energy that somehow fractured itself in mid-burst. The dozens of minute rays of energy seemed to each move with a mind of their own, the scarlet-tinged waves of heat vision winding their way towards a creature or construct who wished to do harm to the planet that Kara Zor-el had chosen to protect.

"Never see Supertights do that little trick," Gardner almost mumbled as he suddenly found himself without a nearby available target. "An' what the hell is that?!"

Batgirl somehow managed to keep one eye out for any surprises from their already aggrieved adversaries while following the eyes of the startled Green Lantern. She could only guess that Kara and Wally's entrances into the fray were enough to distract her from the fleet of fighter jets, dozens strong, that was now zooming their way toward the battlefield from the eastern skies. The shards of moonlight that poked from the sky above seemed to glint off the armada's midnight-black wings but those small slivers of light couldn't possibly match the luminosity within the wave of emerald energy that pushed the fleet forward at a velocity that the collection of propulsion engines could not possibly match.

The Batplanes seemed to launch their opening payloads as one, the Waynetech-crafted machines launching Stinger missiles, bundles of smoke grenades, and an enormous array of incendiaries and small-arms fire directed at a cavalcade of Yellow Lanterns who had managed to partially break through the southeastern most point of the defensive line established by The Green Lantern Corps. Though there was relatively little that the array of stealth fighters could do to put a definitive stop to the advances made by The Sinestro Corps, the man behind the maneuvers appeared determined to give Natu's forces enough time to marshal their wits. It was a gesture that could be considered as either phenomenally foolish or indescribably noble but most likely fell somewhere in between as The Batman pushed everything he had in doing what he could.

However, there was a single aircraft that had managed to split away from the dangerous flock. It was a modified, F-35 Lightning model that, instead of helping shore up the planet's defenses, chose instead to swoop straight down upon the center of 3rd Avenue with a messy, explosive crash that sent troopers of both sides scattering for cover. However, the ensuing explosion didn't do a whit of harm to the plane's pilot, the cockpit door having swung open a mere handful of seconds before the expensive craft finished its final mission. The showing of agility and acrobatics that the destructive new arrival put on display was something that no ordinary human could pull off. It was a combination of zip line grappling and pivot jumps off the sides of the surrounding buildings that soon left the death-defying masked man in the perfect spot to let loose a torrent of gunfire from the pair of mini-guns trapped within his sturdy grip that sought to tear through any member of The Silver Coyote's forces he could find.

"Could someone remind me to send Slade Wilson the bill for those damages should we all manage to survive this?" The Calculator asked to no-one in particular.

"No worries, Answer Man. I'm sure he'll be happy to pay for it now that he's been able to do it."

Batgirl didn't even bother to be angered by the fact that she had been surprised once again. Instead, the expert combatant let out a relieved gasp as the unexpected responder to The Calculator's question made her way down towards her. Blinking in response to the playful wink that the new arrival had to give her, Cassandra somehow managed to once again bottle whatever possible infuriation that could be garnered from all the ongoing lunacy

"Don't you believe that this is a little over the top?"

Not even the slightest of shrugs could mask the animated energy clearly bubbling through Robin's body.

"You should be grateful, _mi hermana_. Wall-eye and I were going to come in here playing bugles until Bats found out about it."

* * *

_Qward_

It hadn't taken long for John Stewart to begin comparing the push towards the planet's surface to a public construction project. It was slow moving, dull in theory, and prone to wind its way toward both disaster and frustration with even the slightest of miscues. However, just as he had found during those frustrating days and months attempting to steer housing plans in the right direction despite the consistent griping of the members of the City Council of Detroit, the necessity of the task at hand was more than enough to keep the former Marine officer focused on his task.

He had been assigned to lead the Corps' rear-guard, an appointment that left him in charge of nearly a thousand good soldiers, through the task of providing the necessary defenses for Kilowog's forward offensive. Just like the skirmish still going on in the ionosphere of Sinestro's home world, the push led by the sole survivor of the Bolovar Vix was slow but still progressing and John knew the only way to keep it moving forward was if he played his part. He had been taught to do what he could to support what he had helped build and he certainly wasn't going to let it be destroyed without one hell of a fight.

"_Colonel Stewart_."

The veteran Green Lantern barely missed a moment while the telepathic summons rang its way through his thoughts, the former Marine officer letting out little more than an inaudible grunt while creating the picture-perfect spectral image of a wrecking ball taken straight from the photos of the destruction of the Rockwell Gardens. The subsequent launch of the curious weapon knocked aside a handful of Qwardian mercenaries with ease and left John and his surrounding compatriots with a hint of much desired breathing room.

"_What is it, Ganthet?" _Stewart hastily asked the Guardian who had assigned himself with the task of overseeing the safety of the invasion force. _"Has Kilowog's forces encountered any more unusual activity?"_

"_No, nothing like that_," came the quick reply, the tentativeness in the immortal's normally tranquil tones causing John to unwillingly feel a hint of concern. _"It is only that my fellow Guardians have informed me of a peculiar disturbance within the central power battery."_

That particular note of information only caused John's unwanted uncertainty to grow, so much so that a mottle-skinned former resident of the Phantom Zone managed to come dangerously close to running him through with an enormous set of claws before the Green Lantern managed to swerve out of the way. _"Have we pinpointed any possible sources for the trouble? What it may mean?"_

John could almost see the blue-skinned Oan responding with a slow, certain nod. _"Yes, it appears to originate from the transdirectional energy matrix designed to transfer the rings of fallen Lanterns to their new owners. It appears that this power is somehow being diverted away from its primary purpose and is instead traveling toward a single destination rather than being spread towards its designated destinations."_

The veteran Green Lantern allowed an unencumbered portion of his thoughts to consider the implications. It was doubtless that they had lost dozens, if not hundreds, on their way down toward the surface of Sinestro's home world. Such tragedies were a depressing but common occurrence in their line of work and the fact of the matter was that he hadn't bothered paying a great deal of attention to the destination of the ownerless rings. The fact that such a commonplace occurrence was not occurring raised a bundle of questions but, as was his way, John quickly moved to ask the most critical of them all.

"_Where is the energy going, Ganthet?"_

Ganthet's response was just as succinct.

"_To Earth."_

* * *

Misfits Confidential

(Gives a shifty eyed look to his copy of _Final Crisis #6_)

Sigh.

(Shakes his head)

So you're gonna copy Infinite Crisis and have Batman die while trying to stop the story's big bad, huh Grant? We're supposed to believe that the ultimate sealer of The Batman's fate is supposed to be Darkseid instead of, say, The Joker or some random gunman? Okay. If you say so. You know you're just going to have to bring him back before the next movie comes out, right?

Seriously, if the upcoming Battle for The Cowl or whatever the hell it's going to be called was in the hands of somebody like Peter Tomasi then I might feel pretty jazzed about whoever is going to be temporarily taking over as Bats (seriously, if you're not reading his _Nightwing _run. . .). That being said, after watching Grant attempt to lamely kill off my favorite fictional hero not once but twice in a matter of three months, I've lost faith in this guy's ability to properly write Bruce Wayne. I mean, I loved the guy's run on JLA and X-Men as much as the next fan but even the most diligent of Batman fans can only put up with so much.

Ah, well. To paraphrase the words of the great Joel Hodgson: "It's just a comic book. I should really just relax." I should also thank everybody for reading and reviewing and move on with the next chapter preview so I can hurry up and get to work!

* * *

Issue #80 Preview

_Culp's War _begin to reach its crescendo as more and more questions prepare themselves wait to be answered. What else lies in wait for Kyle Rayner on his road to the Yellow Battery? Can the newfound arrivals help turn the tide in the battle for Gotham City or will Nightwing's army finally knuckle under the superior numbers of Vincent's forces? And speaking of The Silver Coyote, how will his battle with The Black Dog escalate within the barely fettered freedom of space? And what of the mysterious energy well detected by The Guardians? Come back in two weeks to watch the answers unfold in the next installment of The Misfits: Debts and Destinies Repaid. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	80. Debts and Destinies Repaid

Issue #80

Debts and Destinies Repaid

_Qward – To'raldo Citadel – Underground Level Seven_

It was nothing but a sea of senses now. The sound of screams, the bleeding and creaking and cracking of his body whenever a stray fist or a sharp blade occasionally made its way through his defenses, and the lingering scent of ozone mixed with eldritch energy all threatened to force Kyle Rayner's eyes to cross and his head to spin from all his brain was forcing him to take in. The glimmering fangs of the Psions and the shining skin of former Tamaranean prisoners of war and the worn weaponry carried by the Qwardian mercenaries and the deadly, red glare in the eyes of the Phantom Zone escapees were all running together now as the producers of these glaring vistas continued to swarm around him. There couldn't be any way that he could recreate such a scene on something as seemingly simple as a piece of paper, at least in a manner where he could be proud or satisfied by the finished product.

The Guardians had put Ion through quite a few trials in order to discover the specific limits within the power he had inherited from Jennifer Lynn-Hayden's selfless sacrifice. The blue-skinned, intergalactic band of supposed peacekeepers had indeed been quite determined to discover the extent of the usefulness behind their new vehicle for peace and order and were more than willing to risk their own safety in order to learn more. So perhaps, in less dire circumstances, Kyle's superiors would have been interested in monitoring how it had become more and more difficult for him to summon the energy he would need for his constructs. His temples were throbbing with the accumulated strain and the tiny, smoldering sensations that occasionally prickled its way into the center of his forehead were becoming increasingly more difficult to shrug off. The beads of sweat that formed at his hairline and slid down his forehead before being burned away from the heat given off by the black map of astrophysical force that surrounded his face had caused him to feel somehow cold and clammy.

The sound of bellowing laughter that came from his hasty construction of a spectral equivalent of the Epoch from _Chrono Trigger _didn't stop him from feeling a concussive wave of nausea and exhaustion that would have left him wide open for attack if the move hadn't bought him some breathing room.

"Your techniques are unorthodox but still quite efficient, Terran," Zod shouted out the moment he had managed to control his merriment, the sanctimonious words apparently meant to be a compliment. Ion had occasionally been able to catch a glimpse of the Kryptonian's battlefield manners, see the ruthless efforts the old man placed into the task of ruthlessly killing one opponent after the other, and found himself more than a little sick. Not just because of the Kryptonian's actions, mind you, but more of the simple fact that he continued to let it happen because it was the only way he could win. No support, no matter where that support came from, meant the potential death of countless creatures that were suddenly placed under his care.

_There's no way Superman would let him get away with this_, Ion couldn't help but think to himself as a hulking brute of a Psion attempted to cave his head in with a telekinetic bolt. _What made me think that I could do this?_

"The light of our little artiste is fading away so quickly," Blackfire crowed from somewhere in the distance, the former prisoner of war and current despot having long become content with merely watching the spectacle from the sidelines. "Are you losing the stomach for this kind of affair, my pretty boy?" she added with an almost repulsively cheerful melody. "Or maybe you're still afraid that the big, bad parasite is going to swallow you whole if you dig a little too deep? Is that what you're afraid of, Rayner? Afraid of being twisted back into that sick, twisted little soul?"

"_You're damn right_," Ion whispered to himself if not to Blackfire. It may have been a month since Kara Zor-el and Lloyd Thomas had apparently eliminated the hold that Parallax had upon him and the beast that came with it but the fact remained that the floodgate was still open. That uncertainty was still there and those foul thoughts had little trouble mixing with everything else there was to fear until he felt like he was drowning in everything. Violence and doubt and bloodshed and confusion all played their roles in this peculiar bit of Kyle Rayner's personal hell and the raven-haired soldier had little idea on how to steer his way through it anymore.

The lack of a response from her quarry only seemed to ratchet Blackfire's laughter into an almost piercing keen, her mirth somehow managing to carry over the sizzling sounds of laser fire and the spitting of psionic energy. "And what say you, Zod?" the orange-skinned warrior asked with what could only be considered as an air of mockery. "Has that primitive, Kryptonian mind of yours finally gotten around to realizing that you've backed the wrong horse? Does your narcissistic demand for honor suddenly not seem to have as much merit?"

The former head of the Kryptonian military first responded with an irritated sneer, the rest of his powerful, blood-stained body then occupied with the task of capturing an advancing Psion within the aged fingers on his right hand. Confining his newfound prize within a grip that could bend steel with laughably little trouble, he squeezed the poor warrior's skull until the alien's temporal bones smashed and splintered, the sharp edges of the fractured marrow piercing the telepath's brain nearly instantly. He quickly collected the disgust that bubbled up within him, anger spawned from the reality that his gauntlets were now sullied by the blood that spat from the ear canals of such a fetid piece of galactic gutter trash, and used that antipathy to power his way through a mighty spin of his body. He felt his rage bubble a bit further as he felt the heat of the plasma bolts crashing into his back as he moved, a grotesquely clear sign that his body was weakening, before he flung his new captive back into the expanding crowd. The corpse spun wildly through the crammed space, the hunk of dead meat smashing aside one foe after the other as it punched its way through whatever crossed its path at nearly one-and-a-half times the speed of sound.

"You dare attempt to insult my dignity with your supposed intelligence?" Dru-Zod roared back, the enraged Kryptonian already looking for something else to kill. "Your indecent tongue would be far better suited for collecting the blood off my boots after I rid you of your army!"

The repulsive sound of a spine shattering, doubtlessly by the hands of his murderous collaborator, pushed Ion's nausea even closer to the surface. "_There's so much_,_" _he thought within his psychological stumbling while the instinctual use of his ring managed to keep him alive. _"I can't draw it all. I can't make it all out. . ."_

"BOY!"

The towering volume behind Zod's roar somehow managed to snap Kyle's attention back to a fairly stable state. It wasn't enough to allow him to summon anything more than a wave of emerald-colored energy that momentarily stymied his dozens of available adversaries but at least it proved to be enough for now.

"Your presence has become unwanted," Zod went on, the former general seemingly quite uninterested in any response the Green Lantern would want to throw his way. "Make your way to the Qwardian power battery and shut it down!"

The surprise spawned by the statement and all it could have meant momentarily centered the impressive wellspring of power in Ion's hands. The reacquired responsibility resulted in a spectral image of Superman that delivered a massive haymaker which sent nearly a half dozen Psions and Qwardian mercenaries soaring away towards and into the citadel walls.

"There's way too many of them!" Ion shouted back as his right hand became covered in a series of pistol barrels that looked eerily similar to The Dragonzord when it was about to unleash a volley of missiles at its evil, poorly crafted foes. "You'll be killed!"

"Are you going to properly represent your army or not?!" Zod hollered back over the sound of spectral ballistic fire. "Finish your mission and salt away the consequences of victory for another time!"

Ion let out a gasp of surprise as he felt his body being lifted off the ground by a rushed but steady hand that somehow managed to get a hold of a graspable wedge of his Corps designated battle armor. His ring informed him of the identity of the culprit only a sliver of a second after Zod had flung him towards the northern corridor at an arc that would carry him over the throng of mercenaries and prisoners of war at a very unsafe rate of speed. He counted his blessings upon managing to right his flight path before it could lead him straight into the surrounding stone walls, the physical gifts given to him by his ring and his many years of training allowing the Green Lantern to push his body into a tight dive that left him unscathed but still allow him to coast over the angry throng on his way to the detected energy source.

"NO! NO! STOP HIM, YOU FOOLS!" The screaming that had sprouted up at his back was nothing short of frantic as Blackfire rushed to chase him down, her upgraded Psion technological implants allowing her to reach a flight velocity that nearly matched his own. "I WON'T LET ANYONE TAKE WHAT I'VE EARNED!"

Kyle made sure to shut out the angry words out as he widened the gap between he and his unwanted pursuer, his phenomenal speed enabling him to cross the distance between the previous battle and his prime destination with little time or effort. His efforts were slightly impeded of course, mostly thanks to the occasional appearance of energy arrays and force barriers that he supposed was to pass as another security system, but the young Green Lantern managed to weave his way through it with little trouble. The dozens of artificial star bolts that Komand'r sent his way were slightly trickier, the determination of the long-deposed Tamaranean princess seeming to be implanted into every single one of her failed efforts to bring him down.

He was smart enough to know that there was little to no chance of fully going back to the life he once had, that quiet existence in which he could have lead a simple but satisfactory life until the end of his days. Hell, maybe Alex would have been happy to go along for the ride. Make their own art out of the lives around them. It would have been nice.

But it isn't what he got.

_And holy shit is that big_.

Kyle's body and thoughts both came to a screeching halt as he surged his way into a cavern many times larger than the expansive pitch that Zod had thrown him from only moments ago. His eyes, even with the sense amplification his ring provided him, could barely see the crown of his newfound surroundings as he momentarily took in the glut of rock formations above, around and beneath him, another little world within the planet that Sinestro had chosen to call his own. The conflicting scents of eldritch energy and stale air whirled around him, the cornucopia of odors soon wafted at an even more furious pace as the speed of his previous travels began to catch up with him. Friction combined with velocity to make the air stern and superheated, the sharp change in the surrounding temperature easily buffeted by the instinctual formation of a force cocoon of emerald energy.

Of course, the state of the atmosphere around him could only distract Kyle Rayner for so long before he cast his sights toward what lay at the center of the gargantuan pocket of underground space. The gleaming edifice was a beast of a creation, a structure many times the height of its Oan-made predecessor and suffused with a dull, golden light that seemed to be working very hard at scratching his pupils. The hum of eldritch energy streaming around it and circulating within it seemed to pound its way through his head, the pull of the relative, supernatural energy somehow managing to draw and repel his own power at the same time.

"I REFUSE TO GO BACK! I REFUSE TO BE RUINED AGAIN!!"

An intense flash of pain exploded in Ion's eyes as Blackfire crashed into his lower back, the force of her travels resulting in an impact that broke the Tamaranean's right elbow and shattered half of his spine. Hardly having the time to thank his ring for healing the potentially grievous damage almost instantaneously, the current efforts of his reservoir of energy left him momentarily stunned and unable to respond to anything else around him. The combination of Ion's staggered state and the blind velocity behind Komand'r's charge left the both of them hurtling out of control until being forced to make an unwilling crash into the axis of the monument at the center of the room. The failsafe defenses installed in Ion's ring by The Guardians, already taxed with the effort of mending his body from the broken bones and energy burns, chose what Kyle probably would have considered to be the worst possible response. The eldritch energy within Kyle's Oan ring began to gather the ambient matter and anti-matter energy around the Earth-based Green Lantern, the process forcing an unlikely weave of transdimensional physics that lead to the formation of a portal that Kyle and Komand'r both plunged into only moments after its creation.

Determined to complete the objective set upon it by The Guardians themselves, Ion's ring had placed him and Komand'r within the heart of the Qwardian power battery.

* * *

_Earth Spacetime Coordinate Western Elongation 44.76 degrees – 10,000 kilometers from Earth's ionosp_here

"_Remember to divide your energies between assault and cover! This will enable you to maintain a buffer for the planet below while maintaining a solid, individual defensive until you can find an opening."_

Like any good teacher, The Condemner held a great deal of confidence that his _teishu _had been a good and willing student. Lugae, that fetid mongrel, may have given the boy the power to ignore its teachings or completely disregard the wisdom it had to share but the millennia old demon always held a hint of pride that Lloyd had kept his heart and mind open far more often than not.

"_He is unleashing a Cthulian energy web! Prepare an eldritch lattice that will cover the edges of the energy array_ _and then attempt to punch your way. . ."_

"_I know what it is and I know how to stop it!" _The Black Dog telepathically growled back, his eyes taking on a familiar silver hue as he drew upon the power of the greater demon trapped within his body. _"Now get out of me ear so I can do it!"_

Of course, like any educator worth their professional salt, Za'haf-al'nesh frequently felt there was always something more that he could teach to his favorite student, regardless of whether Lloyd Thomas wished to hear it or not. The realization of that aspect of his long-developed nature prompted The Condemner to let out a sigh from its vantage point within his psychologically constructed home. The long-feared fiend felt a hint of an inkling to give in to its temptation and chastise its _teishu_ for his impertinence. After all, it's not as if the hulking warrior would have endured such impertinence from the humans it pledged to defend so many millennia ago.

Still, regardless of his earlier showing of rebellion, Lloyd seemed to go to great lengths to follow The Condemner's advice to the letter, the half-blood moving and thinking quickly to create a ball of energy that seemed to steal what little light the space around him had to offer. The sphere began to fracture only half-of-a-second before The Silver Coyote's attack threatened to burn through his sweat-strewn body, the shifting of eldritch energy producing a cavalcade of energy bolts that hastily spread forward and outward to counter the beams of energy that threatened to burn his body to cinders. The _Mugalshir_, as well as the hand that wielded it, was hard at work as well, the thin saber deflecting the shots that Vincent had aimed for his head, heart, and gut.

Yes, the realization that its _teishu _did not require such prodigious amounts of advice was still an occasionally bitter pill to swallow for The Condemner. That being said, there were some times when the aftertaste of such a harsh lesson did reap its own rewards.

The Black Dog could almost hear the song of his saber as he slashed it back and forth in order to defend himself while simultaneously moving to regain the offensive. Forming the foundations of a golden spike of energy as Vincent's volley began to narrow in its intensity, the hardened battle veteran let the attack fly with his unencumbered right hand the moment he was ready. The barb of eldritch energy soon changed from what most would have predicted to be its course, the wickedly quick attack passing its way through a neurologically crafted transmat portal before sifting its way through the other side of its newly discovered dimension space. The raven-haired former assassin was rushing forward even before his previous attack returned to this side of reality, the bolt of energy appearing just 50 feet away from Vincent's back as Lloyd rushed to meet his target head on.

A well-timed teleport saved Vincent from what could only be considered to be a rather unhealthy collision. Being a good host, however, he made certain to leave a small portion of him behind to greet his visitor. The reduced friction of molecular movement rendered the vicious path of Vincent's telepathically controlled katana absolutely soundless, the impossibly sharp blade's silent travels devoted to the purpose of slicing its way through Lloyd's flesh. The swordplay began slow but steady, a clear sign that both combatants were still in a state of temporary recovery as the two blades clashed at a rate of two or three strikes a second. Of course, the battle was quick to pick up again as both of Mao Tenryu's former disciples recovered more and more of the faculties, the pace of the ensuing mêlée once again hastily escalating towards an inhuman pace where dozens upon dozens of lashes and slashes were blocked and dodged at a pace that was nearly impossible for the human eye to follow.

The struggle only prompted the chaos around them to ferment further, the presence of unnaturally occurring forces stirring what was usually a peaceful pocket of space into a destabilizing hunk of discordant matter. Lloyd's hasty teleports, combined with the relentless intentions of The Silver Coyote's katana, soon produced a backwash of eldritch and kinetic energy that left the cosmic battleground soaked in a palpable miasma of dust and debris whose existence was cut agonizingly short by either the heat of the battle or the chill of cold space.

It took some achingly long seconds for Lloyd to find Vincent's hiding spot, a harsh right turn and an even quicker surge forward sending The Black Dog crashing through the meteor that The Silver Coyote had chosen to momentarily hide behind. The spray of rock and lunar dust was enough to momentarily blind Vincent long enough for Lloyd to land a thrust kick to the gut that caused a cloud of quickly freezing wind to spill from Vincent's lips. The follow-up attack, a quick lash of Lloyd's saber designed to gash through a sizeable portion of his old friend's torso, was turned aside at the last moment by a cross block of Vincent's recently returned katana, the sight of The Silver Coyote returning his weapon of choice back into his physical clutches prompting Lloyd to gnash his teeth in mild frustration.

"_Is this what you truly wanted, my brother?" _Vincent asked within the fury of the ensuing scuffle. _"You had the choice to stop this war and the only thing you had to do was to listen!"_

"_Stop trying to defend yourself, mate, if only for your own sake," _Lloyd advised his former partner while blocking a front kick with his right wrist before attempting to cave in his opponent's sternum with the fist attached to it. _"Don't pretend that you didn't know about the good you could have done and don't act as if you're some innocent bystander in all o' this." _

The mystic saber and katana clashed once again within a spray of sparks, the two tired warriors engaging in yet another test of strength while locking their inhumanly colored eyes with one another from a distance of mere inches.

"_It was you're choice to become a monster instead of stay as a man," _Lloyd added calmly, his telepathic voice now carrying only a twinge of sadness or regret. _"This was something you made of your own free will and it's high time that I start thinkin' the same way."_

"_And what do you mean by that, little brother?" _Vincent asked, a sneer upon his pale, blood-speckled face.

"_I'm gonna protect my interests as well, Vincent. I'm puttin' it upon meself to watch over the people I care for."_

* * *

_Crime Alley_

The fact that the aerial security line established by The Green Lantern Corps had held up as long as it did was nothing short of a miracle. As a matter of fact, the sheer advantage in numbers enjoyed by Leokar Kurkosaw's massive army should have been enough for The Sinestro Corps to turn the battle in their favor in half the time they actually needed to do it. Still, delayed though it may have been, the successful push of the Yellow Lanterns was more than enough to close a good portion of the ranks of their counterparts. Dozens of Green Lanterns had joined the rising ranks of the fallen even before The Sinestro Corps began to turn its fear and hatred upon the ground of Gotham. Checkmate agents were razed and broiled alive by the heat of golden energy blasts, volunteers from all parts of the city either scurried for cover from the escalation of energy fire or met a quick and messy end alongside the hundreds of other bodies that already lined the streets, and more and more of the outnumbered defenders bore the deadly brunt of a lost cause.

Kara Zor-el had been one of the brave and foolish fellows who had rushed downward in an effort to do what she could to stem the dangerous tide. The reward for her bravery soon appeared in the form of nearly a dozen Yellow Lanterns who were eager to swarm upon their newfound prey, their memories of the young woman's past exploits still fresh in many of their minds. Though a quick blast of heat vision brought down three of her newfound aggressors, the others were quick to exact revenge for their fallen comrades. Half healed cuts were restored to their full, messy bloom under the prompt of punches and kicks to the head, neck, and shoulders. Bruises began to mottle the uncovered portions of her tired body and her battered frame found itself struggling to keep itself together as the half-Kryptonian did her best to power her way through the spheres and spikes of energy that threatened to punch their way through her.

Stephanie Brown was faring slightly better than her more powerful comrade. Though the cracking of the frontline defenses had prompted many of her colleagues to head skyward in order to shore things up, the young Green Lantern though it would be a better idea to stay on the ground in an effort to pick up the slack. As was her way, the young Green Lantern had taken to her unenviable task with her usual display of vim and vigor, a series of verbal barbs and insults aimed at her unresponsive adversaries spewing from her lips as she took down one foe after the other after the other. Her ring continued to warn her of the gradually waning amount of energy that it could provide her but Robin paid it little mind. She had spent enough time listening to others telling her what she could and couldn't do.

"Keep moving to the outer perimeter!" Nightwing shouted while leaping away from the unconscious plummet of a Yellow Lantern he had just brought down with a nerve hold taken straight from his father's training sessions. "Calculator! Pass around the word to all units to keep together so they can have a better shot at pushing through! We can't let them surround us!"

The field commander of the ground troops had to struggle not to shake his head in disbelief as Roy Harper let out a warrior's cry of "SPOOOOOOON!" while emptying both barrels of his available energy pistols into any Sinestro Corps member he could find. It seemed to be a successful effort, at least judging from the sudden reduction in the familiar hisses and sizzles that always seemed to precede anything summoned by the Qwardian power rings. Of course, he also had no time to check on his theory, his sights now currently focused on a ragged looking Victor Fries and the cracked, half-broken carapace that was the only thing keeping the former cryogeneticist alive and kicking. Many of the dents and apertures that adorned Mister Freeze's armor had gone to spewing dangerous looking sparks that seemed to wrap around the old man as he employed his freeze ray to generate a sharp wave of arctic energy that all but shoved a quartet of already taxed Sinestro Corps members into and through a nearby apartment building.

_I've put that guy behind bars a half-dozen times, _the former acrobat couldn't help but think while pushing himself into the air via a leap off the shoulder joints of a falling Manhunter. _I never thought he would do something like this, to fight so hard for people he'll never even know_, he added while slamming his right foot into the chin of an airborne assassin with a picture perfect airborne crescent kick. The front somersault he pushed his body through on the way back down was something he had practiced a thousand times, his experience and grace under pressure allowing him to land softly from the tricky maneuvering with a well-practiced grace.

_My father had always thought that there was still a good man under all that armor. __Lloyd did too. _

Nightwing let out a gasp as a bolt of plasma missed the right edge of his torso by a matter of inches, the close shave prompting him to throw his body into a tight cartwheel before launching himself upwards and forwards with his arms pulled taut behind his head. Physics and geometry were quick in working together to allow Dick to carry his body onto the shoulders of one of Fries' many aggressors. A series of quick, concentrated strikes with his already notched escrima sticks were enough to stun the unfortunate Manhunter he had chosen as his target before a leftward roll of his hips allowed him to send the android tumbling head over heels.

_And now I know what I have to do to remember that lesson__. _

"Do you require any additional airborne assistance, Nightwing?"

Dick's rush to watch Fries' back left him momentarily unable to answer the helpful question, the all-too-human vigilante occupied with the task of walking his own tightrope through the chaos around him. Shifting his balance to blunt the effects of the shockwave formed by a trio of Manhunters crashing down onto the ground around him, his reply was once again put on hold as he soon rushed forward in order to acquire a more productive way of doing his job.

"We're as fine as we're going to get, Batman!" he shouted back over the roar of the plasma cannon he had just acquired from a dismembered Manhunter. The blue energy orbs that spat from the gleaming holster may have not done as much damage as he would have liked but he had to admit that it was better than what he had been doing. "Just keep doing what you can to keep those damn bumblebees from stinging _ughh. . ."_

The force of the bull tackle from a far too fast opponent left Nightwing swimming in the pain of cracked and floating ribs as the skin on his back ripped and tore as it slid against the ragged pavement. The former acrobat managed to catch a blurry image of a creature that looked like a red-skinned, bipedal bull whose impressive girth and muscle managed to keep him pinned down to the ground but very little of him was left to register anything more specific. He faintly heard some guttural warnings and felt a bit of drool and spittle pepper his face before a blur of red smashed the dangerous foe off of his chest. The detective felt himself being hastily picked up off of the ground before the world in front of him became even blurrier than before, the familiar sensation of borrowed speed nearly just as liberating as the oxygen brought back into his lungs.

"Shoulda saw that coming," Nightwing said blearily as the sight of his best friend began to wobble and fade in front of him. "Get me. . . back. Get me back in there."

"No way, Short Pants," The Flash said sternly while putting his world-renowned speed to the task of escorting Nightwing out of the theater of war. "Things are way too woolly for a guy in your state of affairs."

Nightwing wanted to look as if he was phenomenally against the idea. _That's what Bruce would do, right? Act all pissed off and pissy? _

"Besides," Wally added. "You can always order us around from The Batcave."

Nightwing found he had to take a harsh sniff in order to keep the blood from trickling out of his nose. His fight to stay awake was a bit trickier to manage, the blur of West Gotham swirling past him suddenly looking like quite the relaxing sight.

"Slade. . . opened up a path. Get everybody through that an'. . . and call Waller. Get. . . everybody together."

Nightwing could now see a haze that looked like The Batcave now. The familiar stalactites were a little further away than usual and the fluttering of bats was harder to pick up but Dick thought for sure that he knew where he was where he was. The spectacles on the bridge of The Calculator's nose also managed to look familiar and unfamiliar all at once and the concern in the hacker's eyes seemed decidedly uncharacteristic as far as he was concerned.

"I know, buddy. Get some rest. You've kept the world going so far. Let us do the rest."

Nightwing felt himself smiling. For some reason, he thought that taking a minute or two to rest suddenly seemed like a great idea.

* * *

Kyle Rayner could feel nothing more than the fear.

He had been proven wrong once again. He once thought that he couldn't have been more terrified than that moment when he opened his refrigerator door and saw what Major Force, that monster, had done to Alexandra. Just thinking about what could drive such a sick and depraved mind to commit such a pointless horror had since been the source of many a sleepless night but the young Green Lantern had tried to appease himself by saying that nothing he encountered in the future could possibly be as horrific as that.

He was wrong.

He thought that he had had tasted all the horror he could when Jade placed all of her faith in what he could supposedly do. He thought that he had been through the worst upon his discovery that he could be a hero that could save countless billions while somehow managing to avoid protecting the life of the woman who had spent the last several decades protecting his. He even thought that he had seen it all when he had finally managed to break free of the harsh grip that Parallax held upon his imperfect soul.

Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The connection to his ring was smashed without a thought to protect it, his power stripped from him and everything else left to be laid bare. The intense heat around him was quick to sink into his all-too-human skin as his entire body began to dehydrate and wither from all the strain. Blood originally destined to flow through his nose and ears began to cease its circulation as Kyle's pain-riddled body continued to float about in the limbo of the Qwardian energy matrix. The cluster of golden nimbuses of eldritch force, hundreds in number, were all too happy to bear their punishment, the supernatural forces shining a light upon every one of their target's imperfections, dogging him for his failures and chastising him for thinking he could do better.

_Who could ever think that we could stop something like this? _Kyle asked while trapped within his own corrupted faults. _Who'd be stupid enough to think that they could conquer __**this?**_

All the pervading thoughts turned the pressure suddenly wrapped around his lower back into little more than a fleeting flicker of pain. The sound of laughter was equally muted, the joy and maliciousness shining in Blackfire's eyes and spewing from the Tamaranean's lips rendered pointless by the reality that he was about to die.

"Can you feel it, hero?" Blackfire asked through her sneer, her strong fingers rising upward and caressing Kyle's shaking abdomen and torso in an almost sensual manner. "This is everything I could ever ask for! Everything I _deserve_! This is what will allow meto show everyone my rightful place! They will feel _everything_ I never deserved to endure!"

Komand'r familiar words were meaningless to Kyle, the well-worn psychology behind them ignored. Even the feeling of Blackfire's strong hands wrapping around his throat went nearly unheeded as the comfort of death became more and more encompassing.

_I won't have to feel this pain, this fear, for much longer. Soon I'll be gone and I won't even have to think about struggling_.

The only reason that Blackfire hadn't already snapped Rayner's neck was her own rapture over all there was to behold. Every door she had ever dreamed of opening was now hers to smash beyond all recognition. She had everything that she had thirsted for every since she was a child, since everything had been stripped from her through no fault of her own.

"This is why fear is the true path to order!" Blackfire exclaimed as she shook Rayner back and forth like a rag doll. "I was fortunate enough to learn this lesson as a child and now I have the divine right to teach this lesson to everyone I can."

Ion didn't care that he couldn't breathe anymore. He had no desire to look furious at the predatory smirk that K'oriand'r's elder sister had to give to him.

"Of course, there's certainly going to be other people like you that just won't be able to learn that lesson properly," Blackfire practically cooed in Kyle's ear as her grip around the Earthling's neck tightened just a fraction more. "Still, I suppose eliminating the unwanted is just another one of those burdens of leadership. Such a heavy crown I will have to wear."

"Why can't you just be quiet?" Ion mumbled more to himself than to the woman strangling him. _Just finish it quick so I don't have to fear anything anymore._

"_That's enough, Kyle."_

The harsh puncturing of Kyle's personal misery was enough to snap at least a bit of him back to attention. His mind's eye, deprived of judgment and oxygen, suddenly cast its fading sights upon a familiar face. He couldn't help but momentarily drink in the sight of her, how her long, blonde hair cascaded down her evenly built shoulders. He almost smiled when he saw the soft blues in her eyes begin to darken, a sure sign that he had somehow managed to piss her off.

"_I was really hopin' I wouldn't have to go and drag you back to your drawing board again, sexy," _Alexandra Dewitt told Kyle with an air of barely controlled chiding, the image of the strong-willed, former photographer somehow managing to look brighter than all the otherwise sickeningly intense bursts of light around him. _"You know good and hell well that you'll never get anything done if you just sit there."_

Kyle Rayner shook his head back and forth as much as he could while still in Blackfire's grasp, the gesture made not in disbelief over the unexpected new arrival but in denial of the claim that followed.

"_I miss you so much, Alex. It's all my fault that you're gone."_

"_Kyle. . ." _

"_I wanted to make it up to you," _Kyle whispered, his eyes not even capable of leaking out a tear in his deprived state. _"I tried so hard."_

"_Please don't cry, Kyle," _the image of Alex Dewitt interrupted, her tone holding a bit more exasperation than before but still remained gentle. _"And don't let life get the better of you. The man I loved thought the world was too beautiful to give up on it."_

"_So that's what you saw in him?" _asked another voice. _"It's damn scary just how much we've got in common." _

Ion tried what he could to let out a ragged gasp as Jennie Lynn-Hayden appeared at Alex's side. The fury was quick and hot on the face of Alan Scott's daughter and Kyle knew that he was in trouble. Still, he always liked how Jade's emerald skin seemed to let off a glow when she was angry, the memories of that luminescence almost as precious as those moments, right before the first thing in the morning, he would wake up and see her long, green hair slide across the ruffled pillowcase. He looked at these strong, wonderful creatures in front of him, utterly confused at how they could possibly care for such a phenomenal coward.

"_We know you're scared, Kyle," _Jade gently assured the befuddled Green Lantern, her usual stoic but tender tenor somehow managing to somewhat calm Kyle's phenomenally frayed nerves. _"We've watched you spend so much of your life creating and wanting but now you need to be. We know you can do this. You've already done this and so much more." _

"_I've only done it because of all of you," _Kyle insisted to his unexpected audience, the flesh around his mind beginning to take on a bluish hue as the high laughter spurting from Blackfire's throat continued to go ignored. _"I would have stopped being Green Lantern if it wasn't for Allie and I wouldn't be Ion if it wasn't for you giving me your strength. Why did you even do it, Jenny?"_

"_Because nobody deserved it more!" _Jade shouted back. _"You were the only one I could ever trust with something like this. You've earned that a hundred times over."_

"_You've spent so much time looking at other peoples' brilliance, lover," _Alex added. _"So why do you have such a hard time seeing what a good person you already are? Why can't you see what we saw in you?"_

"_I think I may have something to do with that."_

A portion of Kyle's power once again flung to life, the brief sputtering of will rewarding him with a bit of air that swiftly rolled through his hypoxic lungs. Kyle should have expected such a thing, particularly given that it was the woman in front of him that had given him life in the first place.

"_Mom," _Kyle whispered desperately to the blurry image of Miora Rayner. _"I'm __**so **__sorry."_

"_Zip your lip, young man," _Kyle's mother replied in a manner that quickly prompted one of the galaxy's most powerful fighters to instantly comply. _"I know you never wanted this for yourself but that doesn't stop the fact that this is what you have to do. And you can do it! You can do it because we believe in you."_

"_We'll always be happy that you shared a bit of your life with us, Kylie," _Alex Dewitt added in an almost playful manner. _"In art lies no regrets."_

"_Come on, Green Lantern_," Jade urged, the debonair energy lighting up her already bright countenance. _"Show the world what we already know. Show yourself what you can do!" _

_"Take what strength you can from us, son," _Miora pleaded as her own frail body seemed to give off its own energy as well. _"Share your life and all the fear and joy that comes with it."_

Blackfire could feel some of the tendons around her metatarsal bones snap as Ion forced her away, a convulsion of cosmic energy easily dislodging her once deadly grip. Her eyes clamped shut in response to the sudden agony, her rage and fury urging her towards a speedy recovery. The quick resurgence was still too long, however, and she was soon privy to the sight of the black blanket of stars and space around the face of Kyle Rayner, the lunar light somehow managing to make its own space within the sea of alarm and panic. She felt herself being pushed forward before her mind could even register that she was being moved, the one-armed grip around her abdomen slight but still unyielding.

"Noooo," K'omand'r groaned out in response to the return of painful memories, her waylaid psyche now unprotected against all the dread that the Qwardian power battery had to offer. Her lust for spreading fear among others was now being forced to feed upon the source of her desire. She tried to fight against seeing the look on her parents' faces, avoid the hatred in their eyes upon realizing that their firstborn child was nothing but a failure. She strained to turned away from the disdainful glares of the Psion scientists as they abused her again and again, make herself deaf to the cries for mercy that her sister had thrown to their unfeeling caretakers and failed miserably with each and every attempt.

"This isn't what I wanted," Blackfire mumbled, nearly paralyzed by her own terror. "I'm so scared. X'hal, I'm so scared."

"It's going to be all right. It's all going to end soon."

Ion's voice still held a slight note of uncertainty within it but the fear that could have been cultured within such spoken thoughts seemed to do little to diffuse the power he was bringing to bear. His left arm still wrapped around Blackfire's thin waist, the reluctant hero continued to push himself forward with his ring at the forefront, the hopes and memories of everyone who he had ever cared for him pushing him forward as the massive wellspring of energy continued to build.

"All we need," he insisted as he began to lose control over his own power, "is one. . . more. . . push. . ."

And, in front of the eyes of two, imperfect creatures, the world seemed to explode.

* * *

Hal Jordan was having a hard time trying to figure out just what kind of tired he was right now. Now that might sound silly to some but, as a veteran of a variety of Bruce Wayne's torturous Justice League sparring sessions, the former Air Force officer had learned that there was some value in learning more about the different kinds of tired. The good news was that he had narrowed it down to two different kinds of fatigue. It was either one of his favorite kinds of tired, the one that came from being caught up in a fast but necessary task, or one of the worst kinds of tired where he had been pushing himself so hard for so long that his body was about to fall apart on him.

The bad news, of course, was that he wasn't sure just what this was as of yet.

The veteran Green Lantern guessed that his bloodthirsty adversary was going through a similar self-debate. A streak of purplish blood that began at a series of deep cuts along the forehead and the spot of skin just above Leokar Kurkosaw's left eyebrow had matted that respective side of the Yellow Lantern's broad face. Small rivulets of ragged water vapor could occasionally be seen streaking both from the jaws as well as the trunk of the elephantine beast, the Yellow Lantern's struggle to keep the air in his lungs apparently becoming an increasingly bigger burden. Of course, there was still a great deal of anger and determination in the eyes of the Sinestro Corps general, a fire that made it quite clear that the murdering psychopath was more than willing to go a few more rounds.

"_That's fine," _Hal thought to himself as a somewhat dangerous smile crept onto his face. _"I think I can work up the effort as well_."

"You're denying your rightful sentence, Hal Jordan," Kurkosaw said with an angry, ragged drone. "Every second you choose to keep on living is another blight upon the innocents that you've placed in harm's way over the course of your inglorious career."

Hal knew it probably wasn't wise, at least from a technical standpoint, to let out a bark of a laugh. That didn't stop him from doing it, mind you, but at least he knew enough about battletime strategy to feel guilty about it.

"Stop trying to feed me your denial, Kurkosaw. You know you lost your capacity to exact justice upon others the moment you decided to change your definition of the term." The former host of Parallax thrust an imperious, pointed figure at his furious opponent, if only because he knew how much it would piss his target off. "You went against the laws established by the people who gave you your power, who trusted you to do what was morally and ethically right, and the fact that you betrayed them makes you no better than me."

The rage flowing through Kurkosaw's eyes was enough to allow the Yellow Lantern to move just a hint too fast for Hal to catch in time. A cold smile came to life on the gnarled face of the former prison warden as he wrapped a massive paw around the braggart's cleft chin. His sharply tuned ears could hear his adversary's neck joints begin to stress and complain at being stretched to such an unwanted degree, the grunt spilling from the Green Lantern's lips causing Kurkosaw's smile to widen until his fangs began to creep into sight.

A spray of emerald sparks to Kurkosaw's face was enough to break the grip a little but it was the pair of laser shots to the Yellow Lantern's back that ultimately set Hal free. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh and fur was still quite strong in the Green Lantern's nose as his ears were suddenly assaulted by a bestial scream as Kurkosaw temporarily turned his rage on his unseen attacker.

The sound of a blast of golden energy fired from Kurkosaw's ring was familiar. Even the smashing of a plane's right wing was quite recognizable to a man who had flown his first stunt plane at the tender age of 11. However, that experience also allowed Hal to quickly put two and together, his eyes widening in horrid surprise as his ring informed him of what he already knew.

"BATMAN!" Jordan howled as he watched his old friend's plane begin to plummet back down to earth, the right wing of the stealth craft the detective had been piloting now sporting a grievous wound that soon spat gouts of oil and flame from the sparking gap. The sight of his rescuer managing to eject from the disintegrating craft was a blessed relief but it didn't deter him a bit from carrying out the next part of his recently concocted plan. Snaring the Sinestro Corps general within a standing rear chin lock, the absence of gravity allowed the Justice League founder to momentarily trap Kurkosaw in his angry grip.

"I want you to look down, you murderous son of a bitch!" Hal harshly whispered into his captive's ears through gritted teeth. "I want you to see how you and everybody else that's sided with Sinestro is going to take a fall today."

Kurkosaw didn't appear to be the least bit interested in following Jordan's request, at least judging from the fervor that the Yellow Lantern was putting into breaking the hold placed on him.

"I won't. . . I won't be denied this day," Kurkosaw strained in reply as he did what he could to use his superior strength to break free. "This day will bring justice!"

"Oh, you're damn right it will," Hal growled straight back, his fury and determination allowing him to keep the alien in place for at least a short while longer. "The oldest kind of this planet's justice, as a matter of fact. And it's all complements of me, The Black Dog, and all the good creatures that are giving their lives to bring you down."

* * *

Renee Montoya was not expecting to see another familiar face upon this battlefield. And, even if she did, she certainly wasn't expecting this one.

He doesn't look the least bit profound or impressive, particularly within the grand tableau of destruction that has already been rendered in the past hour or so, but that doesn't stop the other denizens of the battlefield from unconsciously giving him a decidedly wide berth. The small percentage that did choose to interfere with whatever he was doing quickly learned their mistake, the foolish handfuls of Green Lanterns, Yellow Lanterns, and other surrounding warriors seemingly thrown aside by some unseen force. The man suddenly stood stock still in the middle of Third Street, only two-and-a-half blocks away from the center of Crime Alley itself, and cast his hollow, black eyes from one side to the other. He could smell all the vile, noble, manipulative, and courageous intentions around him, a gift of the senses that still occasionally frightened whatever scraps of humanity that remained trapped within him, and the creature was unnecessarily reminded of his purpose.

"Cris?" The Question whispered while watching another pair of Manhunters being seemingly summoned away into the shattered remains of a Lincoln Continental. "Is that you?"

Montoya could have sworn that the creature formerly known as Crispus Allen turned to her for just an instant, those noble eyes boring through the mask around her face and forcing her to shudder. Of course, it could have all been just her imagination. Perhaps her mind was clouded by the sight of the body of her former partner begin to stretch upward and outward, the body of the once-distinguished police detective sprouting exponentially in a matter of moments. The creature soon dwarfed the buildings and everything else around the battlefield, the celestial being growing thousands of feet high in order to better strike fear in the hearts of those it had been deigned to punish.

"YOUR AIM IS TO CREATE ORDER THROUGH FEAR."

The new arrival's words pierced the ears of all who could listen just as its mere presence invaded the thoughts of all who knew fear.

"YOU SEEK AN AUTHORITY THAT IS NOT YOURS TO WIELD AND IT HAS BEEN PUT UPON I, THIS GRATEFUL SERVANT, TO RECLAIM IT."

Its intentions made clear, The Spectre readied itself for its righteous war.

* * *

The Silver Coyote could feel everything seem to fall apart around him. His demon, once completely enraptured by the opportunity to combat the scion of one of its most hated rivals, now hissed in his ears about all the implications of what was going on below, how what was supposed to be the site of his second greatest victory had most likely turned into a withering defeat. The unnecessary words only seemed to spur Vincent's anger to even greater heights, his thin, muscular frame surging with rage as he rushed toward The Black Dog with his katana drawn forward. The smirk on his little brother's face only infuriated him further as the two of them locked blades in another cross block, the two half-demons once again struggling to gain control of the battle.

"_THE SPECTRE?" _The Silver Coyote seethed through the telepathic link he shared with the man across from him, his formerly silver pupils turning back to their normal pale blue as Vincent continued to display his exasperation. _"I asked you for a battle to determine the path of our destiny and you sully that by bringing in that vainglorious relic of the past?!"_

"_Now, now. No need to get your knickers in a twist 'cause you didn't think o' it, sunshine." _Lloyd's response served as a polar opposite to Vincent's. His strained, emaciated face was twisted with the effort and determination of his physical actions but the candor of his telepathic reply remained smooth and unruffled. _"Of course, Jordan and I didn't exactly need much to convince that big, angry_ _spirit down there to lend us a hand. Who knew that a scion of vengeance would be so eager to repay old debts, eh?"_

Vincent grinded his molars together while backpedaling away from the ongoing stalemate, the flat of his katana only inches from the tip of his long nose before finally choosing to pull away from the engagement. The co-leader of The Sinestro Corps did not fire back a hint of a spoken reply, the assassin simply unwilling to give the grandstanding pretender across from him the least bit of satisfaction.

The Black Dog kept going on regardless.

"_We were hard pressed to stop Mr. Pale Rider there from rippin' into ya the moment you did your little Passion Play on Supes but I helped Jordan convince his ol' running buddy to wait until we could drum up enough juice for 'im to use freely. And, given his past union with Mister Green Maverick, it only made sense that The Spectre would be quite tolerable with takin' in every bit of Green Lantern energy it can get its big, judgmental hands on."_

The airless space around him silenced Vincent's howl as he teleported to Lloyd's back, The Silver Coyote now desperate to shush the words that his little brother was more than happy to deliver. It took some strain, of course, for Lloyd to parry and push back the furious flurry but he managed to do so, holding the battle into a stalemate for several more delicious seconds.

"_Time to look with clear eyes, old boy. Kilowog's forces are closing in on the Qwardian power battery, over half of your generals have either died or rabbited off, and The Spectre is about to deliver some divine retribution on everything you've got left." _The Black Dog punctuated the powerful truths with a solar flare that shined from his eyes, the blinding blast prompting Vincent to teleport away in order to save himself from being skewered by the underside lash of Lloyd's saber. _"Face it. You took your gamble and you've lost."_

A somehow determined desperation was what fueled Vincent's next maneuver, the silver-haired, would-be world shaper firing as much energy he could straight down to the Earth below. Only an inkling of frustration crossed his senses as The Black Dog moved to block the attack, his opponent's quickly gathered response crashing into his attack with a silent, explosive fury of silver and gold. The converging forces, its source point a mere 14,000 miles away from the top of Earth's mesosphere, was quick to incinerate what little solid matter it could find in the black space around them. The surrounding space itself was the next thing to begin to warp and shrivel within the growing sphere of contrasting light, the man-made celestial funnel seemingly strained with the task of bottling up all the surrounding force.

"_You can't rob me of what I deserve to be," _Vincent firmly declared, the sight of his body all but lost in all the ethereal luminosity around him. _"I'll make this world what I want it to be."_

Casting his wide, hazel eyes on what he and his old friend had worked together to create, The Black Dog let out a tired smile. He thought of how Steph's hair tickled the crook of his neck when she had wrapped him up in her happy arms, how his lungs hurt whenever Dick and Roy traded off their silly arse jokes while he tried to ask for another round, how those sanctimonious smirks that occasionally crept up on Bruce's face played hell with his pride.

Lloyd didn't see the explosion happening in front of him. He could only see Kara's smile.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Do you want to know what's really sad? Every one of these chapters I write out is mapped out to be about 5,000 words long. I'm serious. I've got bunches and bunches of outlines that are proof of my intentions, my dozens and dozens of fans!

So why is this chapter over 10,000 words? WHY?! You know, you'd think that somebody with a 55-hour work week could find something better to do with their time than to pad out their biweekly fanfiction updates with stuff like obscure Bible quotes, old cartoon references, and examinations of space-time physics principles. Only a severely damaged, weird little person would do such things. I should know, given my background in counseling.

Oh, and _Final Crisis_ made no sense. Thanks for asking, Ryan. While I'm at it, I'd also like to thank the rest of my dozens and dozens of fans for reading and reviewing.

I wish I had something witty to say before bringing in the next chapter preview but, let's be honest, I need a nap.

* * *

Issue #81 Preview

The good guys may have stopped the end of the world as we know it (yes, it's already been established that I need help) but that doesn't mean that all the smoke has cleared just yet. In every war there are always some last bits of smoke to be cleared, some last bit of refuse meant to be forgotten in history. So what will this war bring? Find out in the next installment of The Misfits: The Fates of Disregarded Saviors. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	81. The Fates of Unlikely Champions

Issue #81

The Fates of Unlikely Champions

_Gotham City – 42,000 feet above sea level_

The Batman thought it wise to stop trying to count the number of times he had been forced into situations such as these.

The loft provided by the initial blast of propulsion energy within his ejector seat enabled him to nearly all of the sharp and heated debris fired in all directions by the explosion of the formerly state-of-the-art stealth craft he had been piloting only 15 seconds before. Quick to discover that the small degree of shrapnel that had come his way had quickly worked to disable his ability to activate his parachute, the world's greatest detective subsequently used the next brief space of time quite efficiently, devoting his brain power to the duel tasks of calculating the potential cost figures within the construction of the craft's replacement and preparing for the look of inevitable annoyance that would be on the face of Lucius Fox once the old man realized that it would be up to him to complete the task.

Of course, there was no way that even those heady contemplations could keep him away from the certainty that he had another conflict on his hands, a discord that had been a source of annoyance since early on in his career as a so-called crime-fighter. Wishing to ignore it for just a little more, The Dark Knight of Gotham City took a moment to try and follow some of the various aerial battles taking place around him, the speed of the Green and Yellow Lanterns and their fantastic struggles usually moving too quickly for his all-too-human eyes to properly follow. He didn't even bother hiding the hint of envy or the heaving helpings of frustration circulating through his thoughts as a brief portion of his contemplations instinctually turned to the belief that he could have done a great deal more with one of those wretched little rings on his finger. That self-centered certainty made swallowing the bitter pill that was the fact that any of the hundreds of fighters around him could have done away with him in a split-second without the least bit of trouble a little bit easier to swallow. To his credit, however, The Batman did manage to stifle his aggravation with a heavy sigh as he keyed himself into The Calculator's communications network.

"Batman to all available points," he calmly relayed while continuing to plunge down to the war torn streets with greater and greater urgency. "I could use some air support since I still can't fly. At all."

Still feeling a nagging hint that he had left something out, The Batman grit his teeth before calmly reopening the comm. link.

"Now would be good," he added.

As he had expected, his ears had precious little time to register the familiar _whoosh _of motion as he landed safely in the arms of Kara Zor-el, the speed buffering abilities of the half-Kryptonian enabling him to safely land in the woman's slight but sturdy arms. Quickly working to center his senses within the more stable point of perspective, The Batman's thoughts quickly shifted toward more necessary enterprises as his body continued to work its way toward reestablishing its general equilibrium.

"It's good to see you again," Kara said in greeting as she continued on her rather frenetic flight through the fading vestiges of combat. "I figure I should get that out of the way since you're probably going to want to order me around now."

"Drop me off on the southwestern edge of the battlefield," Batman quickly replied, his firm delivery a quick confirmation of Kara's suspicions. "We need to prevent The Silver Coyote's troops from causing excessive damage in their attempts to escape The Spectre."

Kara wasn't certain if Batman could see her upraised eyebrows so she decided to express her question verbally. "Sure you don't want me to head north? That way you could work with Robin instead of The Flash." She felt a nice little flicker of mischief that stemmed from the thought of The Batman not even bothering to glare at her. "I'll get you there as soon as I can. I had six Yellow Lanterns gunning for me when Calculator told me to get over here and it looks like I picked up a few more along the way."

"Take your time," Batman replied calmly, the usually gloomy bastion of justice doing his best to avoid inconveniencing his carrier. The flurry of golden blasts that zinged past the two of them ran past at stiflingly rates of speed but the artful maneuvering put forth by Kara allowed the both of them to avoid the flurry with relative ease. The sight of an explosion of white energy from Kara's unencumbered left hand surprised him only slightly, the display of eldritch energy manipulation prompting little more of an initial reply from him than a loosening of his normally burdened brow.

"I see you've managed to learn how to palpably summon your supernatural energy supply. What was your catalyst?"

"Catawhat?" Kara asked back, the effort put into a westward barrel roll momentarily robbing her of the opportunity to ask Batman to clarify his question. "And you're telling me you _knew _that I could do this?"

"It was just a logical assumption," Batman replied evenly. "Judging from your recollections of your father's experiments, it was only naturally to conclude that Zor-el was attempting to psychologically suppress the more overt characteristics of your Praxian heritage while enhancing the less traceable elements so he could employ those to his advantage." The detective was kind enough to pause in his explanation to allow Kara to twist the flight paths of two of her pursuers right into one of The Spectre's energy blasts. "Given the environment that spawned the forced suppression of the more offensively-based powers laced within the Praxian half of your DNA, it was fairly safe to presume that the reemergence of such abilities would most likely have to be caused either through some kind of cathartic release of emotion or due to some form of physical catalyst."

"Ah," Kara astutely replied, the fair-haired warrior quite proud of the fact that she managed to understand a good portion of The Dark Knight's explanation. She took the time to give it all some serious thought as she briefly tossed Mister Wayne into the swirling skies, thus freeing herself to safely turn around and fire a blast of heat vision that seared through the gut of one of the more persistent Yellow Lanterns trailing behind her. She met another one with a sidekick to the gut that doubled the creature over before a vicious uppercut sent the puce-skinned Sinestro Corps member soaring into Earth's mesosphere. Just as she had hoped, the fury of her counteroffensive was enough to convince the three remaining Yellow Lanterns to give up the hunt and search for more vulnerable prey, thus leaving her with more than enough time to soar upward and reclaim The Batman.

"I took on a lot of strain in the fight against Henshaw," the victorious alien warrior explained while The Batman once again shifted into her grip. "You think that could have been it?"

"It's a possibility," Batman admitted, the skepticism in his voice quite easy to hear despite the howling of the surrounding winds. "Still, I would like to examine the matter at the closest opportunity."

"Of course you would. That's how you show you care," Kara gave back with a rather pleased retort as she and her cargo passed over their intended destination. "Ready to go, boss?"

"As ready as I ever am when it comes to doing something stupid," Batman fired back in his normally grim and gritty manner. "Oh, and Kara?"

"Yes?"

"It's good to see you again too."

The grunt that snuck from Kara's lips caused Batman's lips to break into a half-smirk despite himself. Released into a stationary fall from nearly 15 feet up, the drag provided by his cape was more than enough to buffer his descent as he swooped down upon the crowded ground. He set his feet nearly instantly upon landing, his urgency prompted by his desire to send a flash grenade into the path of a trio of airborne Yellow Lanterns eager to get away from The Spectre's wrath. The combination of pervading fear and dwindling power supplies left his targets distracted just enough for them to take the full brunt of the luminous flare, the blinding explosion leaving the Sinestro Corps members howling in pain and struggling to recover themselves.

And, like so many times in the past, a familiar blur of crimson was eager to hurry and steal his accomplishment, the kinetic whirlwind briefly leaping into the air to hammer away at his disoriented quarry. Leaping from one aggrieved target to the other while using his previous target as his own temporary stanchion, The Fastest Man Alive took down the trio of Yellow Lanterns with a combination of airborne kicks and punches that prompted the alien soldiers to topple to the ground unconscious.

"I'm not going to have to go on monitor duty after all of this, am I?" The Flash asked him as he briefly ran rings around the all-too-human vigilante. "Because, honestly? I could use a nap."

"Just get to work," Batman grumbled while letting loose a flurry of batarangs at The Manhunters rushing their way, the C4 strapped to the bladed weapons armed and ready to do its damage.

* * *

Falling.

Falling, falling, and more falling.

Nothing but falling.

_Hard to believe I can keep on moving for so long without ever doing anything._

At least he could take heart in not being able to feel the fire anymore, the blaze that had built up around his body as he faded back down into the mesosphere just starting to die down thanks to the freezing currents whirling around him. The damage on his battered body looked horrific but the young man knew enough about his bones and muscles to realize that these wounds would heal. The third-degree burns on his face and chest were already well on their way to healing, the ashen skin beginning to slough away in order to make room for the pinkish replacements. His weathered body had suffered through greater degrees of hypothermia before and the sudden freezing of his body was enough to slow his blood flow long enough to clear up much of the cuts and abrasions before he could bleed out any further.

_Suppose I should be grateful for small favors_, Lloyd noted as he continued to faintly feel his black hair fluttering around him, some of the stray strands slapping him about the forehead and eyes. _Even I'm havin' a hard time believin' that I survived that one._

"_I wonder why we can read each other's thoughts?" _Vincent asked him, the 14-year-old's eyes still wide with the lack of knowledge around him.

_Oh, bloody hell, _the present-day Lloyd couldn't help but think.

The Lloyd Thomas from six years ago found he needed a moment before he could respond, the brilliant sight of the Aurora Borealis as seen from 30 miles up serving as quite the distraction.

"_Maybe it's 'cause we've been through so much together." _

_No_, Lloyd warned his increasingly active deliberations. _We're not playing this game again._

The scent of blood still hung heavy in Lloyd's nostrils as he lay in a hospital bed within one of Mister Mao's private hospitals. He had little trouble taking in the faraway look in those sad, pale blue eyes above him, his 15-year-old self easily reading the still momentarily fractured mind of his big brother and best friend. He knew that Vincent was battling the urge to try to comfort him, wondering what he should do. He could even see the long fingers of his fellow half-demon occasionally creeping forward, the intention of moving to hold his hand clear as day before each stumbling attempt was aborted in the last second.

"_Please don't leave me_, _little brother,_" Vincent told him in a whisper, his raspy voice sounding even more muffled thanks to the bandages wrapped around Lloyd's ears. _"You're the only one who can keep me as I should be." _

_Yeah, this is really what I need, ol' noggin o' mine_, Lloyd thought rather bitterly as his limp frame coasted through the invisible wave of gas that served as Earth's ozone layer before hurtling into the troposphere. _Bloody buggerin' hell, I've got more issues than National soddin' Geographic._

"_We can change the world, Lloyd! We can make it so nobody else will have to suffer the way we did!"_

_That's a little better_, he thought as he tried to force a stern grimace upon his tired face, his fatigued muscles straining to pull themselves together.

"_There's no need to blame me for your own hesitance!" _

He should have seen the bloodlust in Vincent's eyes on that day at The Monster Farm; those horrible minutes where he had to bottle in the urge to vomit as he saw Vincent standing over Kara's bleeding body. The fact that he let himself cloud his own perceptions, see something he wanted to see rather than look at what was, breathed another hint of energy into that vital spark he would need to survive what was to come. His meteoric descent began to decelerate as he passed through a bustle of cumulus clouds, the collected tufts of water vapor bursting apart as he continued to fall.

"_We must become the ones with the power."_

He was down to just under the speed of sound now, his weariness still keeping him from significantly moving any part of his body more significant than his fingers and toes. The Black Dog gave little concern to the predicament, the fact that the most powerful muscle he had was still somewhat functional keeping him occupied and rooted to his task.

"_Save your tears for those who have always been willing to walk among you."_

_Still comin' in too fast_, Lloyd couldn't help but realize upon reaching just a mile above the ground. He could feel the blood vessels in his eyes begin to stretch and strain as his brain drew in all the blood it could summon. Good_ Lord, I know this half demon's probably breakin' a few rules with this but don't let me land in a populated area._

He didn't bother trying to block any of it out now. He heard the sound of smuggled Christmas carols in Doctor Lugae's laboratory, smelled the scent of the whiskey stolen from Mao's private stores as he and Vincent took turns taking heady sips of the bitter, brown liquid while laughing at their cleverness and made no effort to turn his mind's eye away from the sight of the hole in his big brother's throat, the aperture oozing with blood and smashed bone.

The Black Dog had recovered just enough of himself to feel the wood and the steel he crashed into and through at nearly 800 miles an hour. Several long, painful seconds blearily passed him by as he finally crashed onto the pavement below, his broken body soon sliding against the ground within a long series of rolls and turns. Though his telekinesis may have saved him from becoming little more than a smear on the ground, the substitution of a shattered right shoulder and a left foot smashed and mangled by the friction within his landing was still a heavy price to pay. However, through all the agony, Lloyd did maintain enough of his faculties to realize just where he had landed upon sliding to a stop, the realization made easier by the shabby state of the building he had crashed through only minutes before.

"Of bloody course," Lloyd said slowly through his broken jaw, the sight of the crumbling remains of the Hong Kong branch of Tenryu Enterprises triggering the need to let out a small chuckle. It was a decision that his aching lungs was quick to protest, the stinging pain in his abdomen prompting him to slowly roll onto his right side in order to cough out several small helpings of blood and mucus.

_Least the authorities were smart enough to get everybody out o' the vicinity_, Lloyd thought gratefully as more and more of the once proud building in front of his eyes began to fall away. _Say wot you want about the Chinese government but at least they can get their citizenry and the press out of the way of a wreck like this._

Lloyd just had several seconds more before his newfound relief gave way to another set of warning bells.

He could feel the anger before the source of it could have possibly fallen into his dwindling sight. In fact, The Black Dog didn't even bother to strain his neck to see where he was coming from, preferring instead to shut his eyes and think about how he was going to get out of what could be to come. His mind was still too weak to search deeply enough into Vincent's mind and see if the elder half demon had made his way here either through choice or through some achingly bizarre twist of fate, his busy brain far too taxed with the task of helping piece his broken body back together again. The raven-haired Brit did manage to take comfort from the sound of Vincent crashing into the ground, the impact raising up a shower of shattered cement and mortar along with an ear-shattering explosion generated by the rupturing of a nearby gas main situated underneath the broken streets.

Lloyd had wanted to smile but didn't bother wasting the energy he would need to do it. The impact velocity was proof enough that his older brother was in just as shabby a state as he was, the realization providing even more motivation to get back onto his feet. Finding the well of his telekinetic energy momentarily running dry, the former assassin and current vigilante poured everything he had into bending his knees forward, to complete yet another of those tiny, impossibly maddening steps that would lead him to ending this insanity.

"Together. . . again," Lloyd mumbled, his patellas letting out a slight _pop _as the bones struggled to their forced objective. "Whether we like it or not."

The tired, unlikely champion shifted his thoughts toward more peaceful tableaus, his mind compelled to find a proper motivation for its task. He could almost see the gargantuan, phenomenally solid mountains of ice and rock situated around him. Of course, it didn't take long for him to remember that those wonders of nature could only attract so much of his attention. The sight of Kara Zor-el somehow always managed to take precedent within the still attractions of the Aleutian snowfields, the sight of her slim and slender frame causing his skin to flush despite the cold. He had made sure to wear the black sweater Bruce gave him for Christmas, the one that Cissie had told him she liked, and the sight of the half-Kryptonian's occasional smiles were more than enough to push aside the frustration he felt with the biting winds and the wool scratching against his forearms.

"Can't. . . can't see 'er. . . can't see any of 'em again. . . 'less I get back on my feet," Lloyd mumbled as he felt the ball of his right foot slide against the surface of the road. "She won't. . . won't be safe," he managed to convince himself as he managed to plant both of his palms against the ground. "Nobody'll be safe."

The Black Dog's knees threatened to give out as he finally hefted himself upward, his smashed clavicle causing the right side of his body to slump lower than his left as he struggled to get his bearings. The broken asphalt clustered around him seemed to turn to soup before his blurred perspective, his normally sturdy sights clouded by a long familiar haze of pain. His left leg reminded him of his stupidity with every step forward, the still twisted series of bones and joints sending a blitz of pain into his tired synapses.

"_Use that pain_," The Condemner reminded him, the words of the greater demon meant as an attempt at motivation rather than providing advice. _"Find what you are looking for and put an end to it. Use my power to bring this madness to an end."_

Lloyd heard the scream before he felt the pain, a convulsion of misery forcing him back down onto his frayed knees. Looking up to see the source of it, his dilated pupils managed to catch the spectacle of thick, red blood pouring from a trio of holes in Vincent's throat. The Brit's eyes continued to clear as the psychosomatic agony reaped from the telepathic link began to fade, his efforts to center himself aided even more by the familiar sight of the three blades connected to an even more memorable gauntlet. The sight of the bare midriff that had inspired quite a few of his adolescent fantasies, the flutter of that closely cropped auburn hair, and the predatory gleam in those olive-colored eyes forced the boy in him to smile and the adult in him to breath a sigh of relief.

"Give them back," Scandal Savage pleaded with a low, looming whisper. "Floyd. . . Mao. . . my life. . . my beloved. Give them back! GIVE THEM ALL BACK, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!"

* * *

Hal Jordan was quick to discover that being several miles above Gotham turned out to be a fine way of witnessing the largest killing spree to ever take place in the city's 375-year history. It turned out that the vantage point was just far enough away for him to properly take in the looming sight of The Spectre, the two-mile tall machination of God's justice, laying down hundreds upon hundreds of Vincent's soldiers over the course of several satisfactory minutes. He watched as one Yellow Lantern was manipulated to turn its power on a dozen of its unsuspecting compatriots, the alien's unwilling efforts to eliminate his comrades eventually bottoming out his reservoirs of eldritch energy and forcing him to fall to the streets below. Manhunters were taken apart by the very bolt, assassins were forced to witness the horrors of their past deeds from the eyes of their victims before their minds fell apart from the trauma, and the combination of the situation at hand and the apparent downfall of the Qwardian power battery had turned the tide of battle in almost record time.

It was doubtless that many of the departed Green Lanterns that now empowered this vengeful scion would not fully approve of what The Spectre was doing with their power. Many of those that were still alive, however, Hal Jordan included, found little to complain about given their past desperation. Even the satisfaction he felt at cruelly witnessing the seething expression on Leokar Kurkosaw's twisted, hairy mug was quickly taken in as little more than a cherry on this particular sundae.

"You like what my old roommate is doing to your army?" Hal asked his captive with a hiss, the memories of watching dozens upon dozens of his fellow soldiers butchered by these monsters running fresh through his thoughts. "You're going back to Scherazade, General. Your old stomping grounds! Hell, I can even let you have the pick of the cell you want to make your home for the rest of your undeserving life!"

"No," the hirsute Sinestro Corps general said with a low growl, the dwindling reserves in his Qwardian power ring making it increasingly difficult to try and break the hold upon him. "Justice. . . my justice."

"This is justice!" Hal roared back. "Maxine Hunkel, Ted Grant, and everybody else you've butchered are not going to die in vain. I'm going to see to that!"

A bestial roar erupted from Kurkosaw's gullet as he managed to finally wrest his thick forepaws from their trappings, a flare of golden energy accompanying his impressive display. The force behind the Yellow Lantern's counter forced Hal to stumble forward, leaving the aerial ace wide open for a sweeping haymaker that crashed across the Green Lantern's jaw. Caught up within the upwards and backwards arc his body had been thrown into by the power behind the desperate shot, it took several long seconds for the eldritch-powered daredevil to recover himself, a length of time just long enough for Kurkosaw to summon the remaining reserves of his ring in order to create a murky colored portal.

"NO!"

Jordan put all the speed he could muster into keeping the Sinestro Corps general from escaping. The sharp ray of energy fired by his ring missed the flank of the elephantine beast by inches, the Yellow Lantern's large frame already enveloped within the anti-matter portal. Unwilling to let his adversary get away so easily, the veteran Green Lantern skidded to a stop in front of the spot where Kurkosaw had been only moments before. Curses ran underneath the pilot's breath as he hurriedly focused a portion of his ring's energy toward patching into the previously summoned frequency in an attempt to force open the gap between realities, his desire and instinct to right such a phenomenal series of wrongs taking over his thoughts once again.

"_CALM YOURSELF, HAL JORDAN!"_

Only a handful of creatures would have avoided the sound of The Spectre's words resounding through their thoughts and even less would have chosen to lash back against such an authority.

"How about I leave you to your task and you leave me to mine, Spectre!" Hal shouted back as his ring struggled to power through the combination of energy weavings he would need to punch through in order to pry open the passageway to Sinestro's stomping grounds. "I'm not letting him get away after what he's done!"

"_IT IS NOT YET TIME FOR THAT CREATURE TO FEEL THE FULL BRUNT OF HIS CRIMES," _the seemingly merciless spirit quickly countered through a shared telepathic network, a tinge of understanding within the god's explosively loud neural candor. "_YOUR HUMAN EYES HAVE SPENT ENOUGH TIME OBSERVING THE EBBS AND FLOWS OF HISTORY TO RECOGNIZE THAT TRUE JUSTICE MUST TAKE TIME."_

Hal could almost feel the fast beating of his heart begin to slow down, the soldier placated both by the calm retort and the depressing reality that his hated foe had managed to make a successful getaway. Swallowing his mistake as quickly and efficiently as he could, the Green Lantern rerouted the supernatural energy within him as he descended downward, the hero quite eager to cut off the escape paths of as many Manhunters and Sinestro Corps members as he could.

"_Thank you for that," _the Green Lantern quickly fired back to his former host. _"And thank you for lending a hand."_

Hal could almost hear the sigh of annoyance as he weaved his way through a lattice of emerald energy fired from The Spectre's right palm, the dozens of energy rays quick to gun for any creature who had wanted to do harm to the creatures it had been deigned to protect.

"_THERE IS NO NEED TO THANK ME FOR DOING MY DUTY. THIS IS A PRIVILEGE. A PRIVILEGE THAT, MAY I REMIND YOU, WILL NO LONGER BE PERSUADED BY ANY OF YOUR SO-CALLED PAST FAVORS!"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I got it_," Hal thought back with a smirk. _"Your debt to me is paid and all that good stuff. How about you let me get back to my work, high-pockets?"_

"_AGREED, HAL JORDAN," _The Spectre quickly responded. _"SO LONG AS YOU CEASE YOUR PRATTLING AND ALLOW ME TO DO MINE."_

The twice-reborn Green Lantern didn't try to stop his smirk from turning into a genuine smile, the appeal of taking on the trio of oncoming Yellow Lanterns quick to spur him onward.

* * *

_Qward – To'raldo Citadel_

John Stewart was of two decidedly different minds when it came to the crumbling wonders around him. The soldier in him, the professional who had just spent six long, arduous hours driving the Corps forward through everything Sinestro's forces had to offer, was quite ready to be rid of this place as quickly as possible. The creator in him, however, that indisputable portion of his soul that had provided the imagination and inventiveness he needed to keep a clear head throughout all of the previous pandemonium, was almost hopping with glee with the thought of taking a closer look at such grand works of tactical art.

_I can't imagine that they started and ended with ordinary Qwardian bedrock_, the former Marine Corps officer hypothesized as he pored over the sturdy partitions to his left with all the wisdom provided by two decades of architectural experience. _I mean, the exterior roofs of this place just took the equivalent of 50 megatons of force and these supports are hardly showing any signs of significant debris. Perhaps Sinestro had his engineers employ eldritch support enhancements combining Fortunian adhesives and Oan assembly philosophies. Maybe it's something that I could work into reconstructing some of the broken buildings back on Oa. . ._

"Colonel Stewart! I have the results from the preliminary sweep."

The veteran space faring warrior was quick to snap back to attention, the drill sergeant in him quick to chastise him for getting away from his task. The waning powers in his ring were quick to flow into him, the summoning of eldritch energy giving his eyes a phenomenally bright tint of green that seemed to broaden the air of authority the Earthling had spent decades working to develop. The stern, imposing look was probably a little much in that particular instance but at least the cowed expression on the face of the Elicoorian scout gave made him feel a little bit better about his temporary state of unpreparedness.

"What have we got, son?"

To his credit, the pale-skinned Lantern only needed a shallow swallow to recover himself. "It appears that the portions of Sinestro's troops that had been assigned to guard the battery left for the outer walls upon the successful infiltration. Furthermore, Corps Divisions 9, 22, and 23 have all made it safely to the ruins of the central citadel with no signs of resistance."

Stewart replied with nothing but a brief nod, the instinct to let loose with a sigh of relief quickly stifled. "So that means all the action is now above ground."

The scout's relieved nod was far more exuberant. "There's still a lot of smaller skirmishes taking place in and around the capital city. I've even heard that Kilowog is personally going from one foxhole after the other and rooting them all out."

John shook his head at the reverently spoken words, the soldier once again quite proud that he didn't share the love for the battlefield that the sole survivor of the Bolovar Vix seemed to always be eager to display. "And have we found Kyle Rayner? Or any other survivors?"

"We still haven't found Ion, sir," the scout answered quickly, the words deepening the scowl on John's lips. "However, we have managed to restrain one of the surviving Phantom Zone escapees."

"Take me to them," John said quickly, the gentleman eager to momentarily avoid his concerns for a fellow solider until he knew more. The short time he needed to follow the rookie Lantern to their next destination killed another half-of-a-minute but the regrets of unspoken words were already beginning to mount. He even tried to draw a hint of relief from the calm disposition of the imprisoned criminal trapped within the nearby barrier, the thought of why over a dozen Lanterns would feel the need to closely guard such a seemingly passive captive worth at least a little of his time. The bloodstains that clustered the man's pale skin and worn battle armor provided a good clue, as did the fact that the surrounding battleground was festooned with hundreds upon hundreds of aliens, none of which matched the energy signature of any former members of The Green Lantern Corps.

"Dru-Zod of Krypton, I presume."

The air of contempt on the face of the Kryptonian nobleman was unmistakably clear. "Are you the leader of this rabble, little Terran?" the grizzled war veteran asked softly, his muscular arms crossing over his expansive chest as he spoke. "If so, perhaps you can inform these fools to cease in their fruitless and unnecessary attempts to confine me."

John fired back with an imposing glare of his own, the hundreds of hours spent in stressful town hall meetings and the posh, corporate suites of billionaire land developers enabling him to work up a powerful anger towards such displays of self-importance. "And what makes you think that we should cater to any of your requests? After all, the honor of having the longest rap sheet among your cellmates isn't going to garner you a lot of respect here."

Zod's mildly amused snort, along with the blasé manner in which he brushed his weathered, right hand past his iron-gray hair, made it quite clear that the old hand of war didn't feel the least bit cowed. "I will have you know that each and every one of my so-called crimes were performed in order to preserve the greatest civilization that any of you have ever known, much as this little display you see before you was performed in order to safeguard your feeble defense force."

Stewart gave little mind to the anger simmering around the other members of the Corps, his sights steered straight at the amusement on Zod's wrinkled countenance. "I don't care who you think you are or what you think you've done, old man. The only concern I've got is that you realize that your next two stops are a holding cell on Oa and The Phantom Zone."

"Hold on, John."

Stewart was one of the few who didn't make a sound as Kyle Rayner slowly made his way into the enormous vestibule through a recently made corridor to the northeast, the eldest of Earth's Green Lanterns managing to restrain himself to a purposeful nod. He made a note that even Zod reacted to his comrade's arrival, the Kryptonian's gray eyebrows raising in a display of mild interest.

As tired as he was, Kyle couldn't help but let out a chuckle as one of his fellow Lanterns quickly relieved him of the labor of lugging around Komand'r's unconscious body. Many more rushed forward to congratulate him, slap him on the back, or sidle towards him with the intention of supporting his stumbling gait. He continued through the throng, delivering blind nods and words of thanks while shrugging off any offer of assistance as he made his way to the center of the former battleground.

"So you've managed to make it out alive after all, little Lantern," Zod said in greeting. "I must admit that I am impressed by your determination, if not by your lack of aptitude for war or your abominable choice of company."

"Well, thank you for the back-handed compliment," Kyle said rather brightly through his relative exhaustion, his recent accomplishments buoying his bravery to talk back. "That being said," he added seriously, "I won't forget what you've done today, regardless of why you did it."

"Kyle," John immediately butted in with a bark of a warning. "Do you know who this is?"

"Yeah," the younger Green Lantern answered while looking the superpowered criminal dead in the eyes. "He's the guy who was more than happy to butcher his kind in order to preserve his own honor. On the other hand, he's also a big reason why we were able to win this war as quickly as we did and, hey, no good deed should go unpunished."

John was quick to turn his attentions back to Zod, if only to watch the former Kryptonian general take in his labeling. He noted the mild, almost imperceptible hint of interest that flickered through the Kryptonian's blue eyes in response to his comrade's words and quickly chose to push that aside. "You're welcome to do as you will, Kyle," he went on after several silent seconds passed. "As for you, Dru-Zod, it is my duty to inform you that, under Code 742-B of the Green Lantern Code of Conduct, your behavior over the course of your internment shall have an impact upon any repeal of past sentencing performed currently defunct judicial systems. . ."

"I am well aware of my rights and I shall comply to your investigation," Zod interrupted calmly, the bloodlust that seemed ever-present to Kyle during the previous battle seemingly vanished. "A pity that you have lost the majority of your power Mister. . . Rayner, I believe it was? I was looking forward to testing your ability upon a true battlefield."

"All right, that's enough," John Stewart quickly interrupted, the veteran leader eager to be rid of this potential hassle. "Divisions 9 and 17, secure the prisoner's passage and make your way to the _Daedalus_ in order to further secure the detainee for transport to Oa."

Nearly two dozen Lanterns took flight in response to the order, the eldritch powered warriors each saving a slight bit of their power in order to aid in the combined effort to constrain Zod within a sturdy, emerald force bubble. In response, the eldest living member of the House of El remained impassive as he was lifted off the floor of the blood-drenched, corpse- strewn combat zone, the procession around quickly deemed worthy of the respect and fear that he knew he deserved.

Kyle was one of many to watch the procession go, his tired mind still trying to process the events of the last six hours. Taking a stray glance at the back of his left hand, he noticed the clammy sweat that had accumulated there, how his long fingers had become pale and realized that he could probably go for about a week of sleep.

"So you've lost your Ion powers," John said needlessly, the happenstance already long registered by the scanning instruments within his Oan power ring.

"Oh, yeah," Kyle said with a tired sigh. "I thought it would be too dangerous to try and drain all the power in that battery, especially seeing as how Sinestro's ring always seemed to be powered by anti-matter energy. So, instead of fighting it, I just decided to try and feed it as much energy as I can give it."

John bobbed his head up and down to indicate that he understood. "I see. And the contradictory forms of energy eventually cancelled each other out, eliminating the well of energy stemming from the anti-matter universe by plugging it up with the spatial manipulation abilities imbued within the Ion powers. Good work and good thinking."

"Well, uh, thank you very much," Kyle replied, the younger Green Lantern relieved that he didn't have to explain any further because doing so would have doubtlessly revealed that he this "brilliant plan" had basically been worked up completely on the fly. Of course, the sight of John shaking his head back and forth was a good sign that he hadn't fooled anybody.

"You going to be all right, son?" John's delivery was back to its stoic but somewhat tender demeanor. "I know that you went through a lot getting that power."

Kyle felt his eyes drifting, his sights suddenly pulled toward some faraway spot. "Yeah, I did," he confessed, the few words nothing short of cathartic. "But it'll always be here, John. I'll make sure of that."

* * *

One of the few, remaining slivers of sanity The Silver Coyote had left quickly decided that he wasn't going to be denied, least of all by the ignorant little waif who had sullied the thoughts of the man he had hoped to be his one, true ally. Drawing what little breath he could from his punctured throat, he thrust back his long, sinewy right arm as far as he could stretch it, the pale fingers tensed with a frightening degree of strength and ferocity. The gasp of surprise that rose from Scandal's lungs inspired him further, his trodden frame slowly rising back to its full height as The Silver Coyote begin to dig his fingertips between the small windows of flesh and muscle between the bones of the woman's chest. The puncturing of the immortal's skin was quickly followed by the crushing of the bulk of Scandal's sternum, the brief amount of time spent listening to the screams of his latest victim giving him the strength to pull the Lamentation Blades away from his throat until they slipped past the back of his neck.

It was impossible to tell what was in charge of Vincent's body now, the boy's bloodlust and unquenchable rage mixing in with the demon's capacity to inflict pain quickly transforming The Silver Coyote into little more than a rabid beast. Drawing his shaking hands away from Scandal's blood drenched chest, his long fingers instinctually went for the mercenary's throat. A sliver of blood and spittle involuntarily leaked through his thin lips as he sought to choke the life out of this hated, hated, _hated _bitch. He shook his captive back and forth wildly as if he were a child with a broken doll, the cracking sound of the bones in Scandal's left wrist rendered mute by the gruff scream that spat from Vincent's throat.

Even Lloyd would have had a hard time telling anyone how he managed to work up the energy to move his body forward, his aching muscles and brittle bones raising a conflagration of pain that rolled through him even as he pushed his body through an ungainly leap that allowed him to send his cracked knees crashing into the upper half of Vincent's back. The impact was just enough to loosen the deathly grip that Vincent had on his elder sister, the velocity tossing Scandal backwards until she rolled to the rock-strewn ground a good 10 feet away. That duty done, The Black Dog hastily moved to the task of bracing the right side of his body as much as he could while he and Vincent tumbled to the ground. The two of them were little more than a flailing tangle of limbs as they crashed back down to the cracked streets, the ruined asphalt looking quite suitable amidst the ruins of the chief symbol of Mao Tenryu's empire.

"ARRGHHH!"

The burst of black energy that erupted from Vincent's right palm was little more than a sputter, a last, instinctual vestige of a would-be god wallowing in how much he had lost. As blind as the shot was, however, it did not stop the tiny sphere from punching its way through a good portion of the right side of Lloyd's abdomen. Even the heat of the desperate attack and the cauterization of the punctured skin that came with it did little to stop the steady flow of blood from the now missing portion of Lloyd's gut that once housed his right lung. The British assassin fought desperately to keep what little focus he could through his sudden loss of breath, that familiar haze of red once again threatening to overcome him.

Lloyd soon found his center within the balling of his left hand, the short fingers curling into a fist and the muscles in the connected arm seemingly eager to aid him in his efforts to fire machinegun-like jabs straight at Vincent's kidneys. The fact that his former partner was essentially on top of him now had put quite a crimp in working up enough room to work up a good shot but The Black Dog was willing to favor quantity over quality. His busy, blood-stained hand surged forward again and again to batter kidneys, lungs, ribs and any other vital part of his older brother's body that he could get to while simultaneously doing what little he could to block out the pain spawned by Vincent's many retorts. The clawing of the older man's fingers digging into his forehead, scalp, face, neck, and throat were hard to ignore, however, as were the streaks of blood running thick down his face and onto his chest.

His success in catching the glint in Vincent's teeth was a matter of little more than instinct and luck, the sight of the insane glint in the eyes of the silver-haired murderer just enough of a warning of his following intentions. Putting himself fully on the defensive, Lloyd uncoiled his left fist and brought it above his face, the extended fingers managing to put a stop to his adversary's forward lurch just a half-second before Vincent could sink his teeth into his throat. The close, focused vantage point he had of Vincent's wildly shaking skull allowed him to briefly observe the uncontrollable wrath in Vincent's silver-shaded eyes as the monster continued to try to push his body forward, his mouth still agape and his blood-stained teeth fully bared. There was over 15 years of torture and abuse lying within that unseeing rage, the unwilling and sickeningly liberating response to an impossibly cruel world that offers so little respite to both the best and the worst of us hurting The Black Dog's heart.

_I'm so sorry, my brother._

The tears slipping down Lloyd's cheeks began to mix with the blood already streaking down his face as The Black Dog poured every ounce of eldritch energy he had been gathering since he had fallen back down to Earth into his left hand. The killer with the raven black hair had been right with his guess that The Silver Coyote would not even have the time to scream and the proving of his hypothesis was a thinly-veiled blessing. He watched as his big brother's fine, chiseled cheekbones were burned away within the supernatural heat, the combination of the close proximity and his complete lack of standing defenses leaving Vincent to take the full brunt of the blast at point-blank range. He was quick to turn his eyes away from the rising column of pale light, the awareness of a part of him being ripped apart already more than enough for Lloyd to bear. A rasping scream summoned from the back of his throat was finally let loose as his thin supply of supernatural force began to wane, that reservoir of power only mildly sedated by the reality that it would soon be restored once again.

Vincent Culp would not have the opportunity to regain what he could have been. Nearly everything he was had been burnt away in a matter of seconds, the flecks and ashes that remained left to fall upon the body of the one soul who still truly cared for him. That realization stung at the survivor of the ferocious battle as Lloyd lay on his back in a state of complete exhaustion, the back of his skull crashing back onto the hard asphalt with a dull crack. The Black Dog took deep, lung-straining breaths as he once again struggled to pull himself together, his heart somehow managing to feel both empty and fulfilled at the same time.

He somehow managed to feel his head being gently lifted upward, his face suddenly cradled within a warm, familiar pair of arms. Another smattering of tears began to fall upon his already crowded cheekbones, the sight of his big sister crying over him making him feel more than a hint of shame. That pervading sense of ignominy only seemed to spread as his ears dimly took in the sound of Scandal sniffling and whispering apologies that he probably couldn't have taken in fully even if he did have his wits about him.

"You stupid boy," Scandal whispered, her cracked but otherwise lush lips brushing against Lloyd's tired brow. "You stupid, stupid boy."

Lloyd replied to the insults with a wet cough, his Adam's apple seemingly straining to burst against his throat.

"Love. . . love you too, shrew."

The sound of soft, unbelieving laughter seemed almost heavenly to Lloyd. Craning his neck just a hint forward, he looked closely at how the early morning sunlight managed to seemingly mix with his big sister's russet-colored skin, the illumination making her look like some kind of ethereal creature in his eyes.

"I told you that you were the better man," Scandal said in a soothing reply, her small hands gently brushing back the stray, black hairs that had once again fallen onto the lower half of Lloyd's forehead. The emotion in her words caused her to let out a chuckle, the normally hard-hearted mercenary momentarily exhausted by all the emotion of the last several hours. "My little brother. I am so proud of you."

The Black Dog let out a tiny smile, his lips twisting upward with as much energy as he could muster. "And you were here," he answered with a whisper. "Just like. . . just like you promised."

Scandal's quick, almost furtive nods were perhaps the sweetest thing he had ever seen. The contentment the half-demon felt was enough to allow his sights to grow dim. He found himself more comfortable with the back of his head nestled on Scandal's legs, a small, proper part of him hoping that the blood slowly trickling out of the right side of his mouth wouldn't ruin her work clothes.

"I think. . . I think I'm done now."

* * *

Three long, loud hours had passed since what remained of Vincent's army had surrendered to the combined forces of Checkmate and The Green Lantern Corps. The world in general and Gotham City in particular had been forced to brace itself within the potential maelstrom of chaos and change and managed to come out of it alive and well. People were cheering and celebrating over the joy of simply being alive, the world would survive to see another day, good had triumphed over evil.

_Yadda yadda yadda_, Kara Zor-el couldn't help but think as she silently trudged her way around the noisy scenes around her. Her skull was still giving out a dull throb and she was starting to think that the burns on her back would need some bandaging in order to heal properly but she was willing to wait for that. Gotham's hospitals and private physicians were already overloaded with those that needed help far more than she did. There were people around her who needed to celebrate a great deal more.

"Heeeeeeeey, Kare Bear."

The half-Kryptonian gently rolled her eyes as she opened up the other side of her communicator in order to speak with her tormentor. "How's the celebration at Wayne Manor going, Robin?"

"Loud and rowdy, pard," Stephanie was quick to reply, the volatility in the young Green Lantern's voice surprisingly restrained given the speaker. "Don't really know where Nigel's getting all this food and booze from but it ain't like I'm about to complain."

"HEY! Tell Superskirt to get those legs of hers on over here!" Guy Gardner somehow managed to bellow through Steph's communicator. "Now that she's legal I think it's high time that I catch up on looking at those gorgeous gams of hers."

"Oh, go hollow out your hair!" Steph yelled back, the sharp retort prompting Kara to slightly pull her head back in order to lessen the pain given to her thanks to her supersensitive hearing. "Seriously though, are you okay, Kara?" the blonde-haired Gothamite continued, her voice quickly becoming more hushed and subdued. "I mean, I can get out of here if you need somebody to. . ."

"I'll be fine," Kara replied, her voice far softer. "Feel free to punch Guy in the nuts if you want too."

"Naaah, I think he might like that," Steph fired back, the humor in the response prompting Kara to wistfully shake her head. "Peace out, _hermana_."

Kara shut off her communicator with little hesitancy, the temptation to just go and chuck it into the sun palpable but easily stifled. The normally chilly winds of Gotham's late winter still ran hot with the backwash of magic and plasma that had pierced the sky and the streets around her only a few short hours ago. She felt a gust sweeping up around her feet before fluttering up her back and through the hair clustered around her shoulders, the draft just strong enough to gently lift the long, golden tresses for just a moment before returning to their haphazardly chosen placement. She shut her eyes, temporarily relieving the crystalline orbs from their normal duties as the rest of her body soaked in the sensations of the world around her.

"'Ello, pet."

Kara wanted to run but chose to walk. She was tempted to crash into him but quickly adjusted her pace as Lloyd slowly made his way towards her. Her posture was still and surprisingly calm as she waited for him to gently wrap his arms around her, The Last Daughter of Krypton eager to feel Lloyd taking the first step through this particular tango. Still, before she went to wrap her arms around him in turn, she couldn't help but take in Lloyd's current state, if only to witness a man who had endured labors that so many would have viewed to be impossible to carry. She gazed into the hazel eyes that made her smile when they narrowed in concentration or widened in surprise, resisted the temptation to rub her fingertips against The Black Dog's chin, and spoke with her heart.

"You look like shit."

Lloyd could only laugh. He let the emotion carry him for several seconds more before he shut his eyes and put his lips to work placing big, noisy kisses on Kara's neck and the right side of her face. "I feel like shit," he replied once he was able to tear himself away. "But that's not gonna stop me from keepin' my promise. I _am _taking you out on a date, Miss Zor-el."

The Last Daughter of Krypton let out a prim smile as she felt Lloyd rubbing her nose against hers. "Wellllll, I imagine a lot of restaurants are running some good deals now, given the fact that the world just didn't get enslaved and all," she considered. "Still, I think you can get away with just a moonlight stroll."

"Sounds good to me," Lloyd replied, The Black Dog slowly shifting his body until he was able to walk with Kara arm-in-arm. "Still, it might be wise to keep a close eye on me. Don't really want to tarnish my macho image by keeling over face first onto the pavement."

Kara was already on the move, her strong shoulders slowly dipping low so that she could better support the arm that Lloyd had wrapped around them. Encircling her left arm around Lloyd's side in turn, she made sure to be quite careful in keeping her fingers away from any spots that would cause him pain or draw him away from her.

"It's okay. I've got you."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

WHEW!

Seriously, I've got to admit that this issue took a lot out of me. I like to think it's a good one and that it met all the expectations I had for it but my opinion's not really the one that counts now, is it? That being said, I do hope you enjoyed it and I'm hoping to hear from my readers, old and new, about what you think. Penning the last few chapters of a book or a big storyline is always a thorny road for me because I'm always worried about leaving something out. I even shifted a few of the segments around in the middle of writing, something I haven't done in almost two years, just so this could make more sense to me.

You know, maybe Grant Morrison should have thought of doing something like that every now and again. Perhaps that would have made _Final Crisis _understandable to somebody who didn't have the time, money, or interest to read the 100 gabajillion tie-ins that seem to run hand-in-hand with everyone of these big comic events. Seriously, I think there still some tie-ins coming out for Marvel's Civil War, right?

Batman traveling back to cavemen times as a New God. . . COME ON, GRANT!

* * *

Issue #82 Preview

Okay. Can anyone explain to me why Nightwing is sitting by himself in a Mexican restaurant? How could Stephanie take on Leokar Kurkosaw, Parallax, and Sinestro but still have to face her biggest test yet? Will The Misfits be forced onto the public spotlight or will they continue to make their way through the darker chambers of Earth's criminal underbelly? The answers to those questions and more in the penultimate installment of _Culp's War_ and the next issue of The Misfits: Learn to be Still. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	82. Learn to Be Still

Issue #82

Learn to Be Still

_Gotham City – La Portana Restaurant – 8:22 P.M. E.S.T._

Seated at the head of the table and sporting an exceedingly irritated look on his usually handsome face, Richard Grayson was growing more and more irate over how the rest of The Misfits would be so irresponsible. After all, he had only asked them to perform one, simple task. An endeavor that, despite its simplicity, would have made his life a great deal easier and those he had chosen to fight alongside for nearly two years had casually tossed his wishes aside as if they were nothing at all. It was something that he would have expected maybe from Roy, perhaps from Stephanie, and strongly suspected to be forgotten by his father but he didn't expect the whole lot of them to be so inconsiderate. It only chafed at his deep-seated, almost hereditary fear of relying on the talents and habits of others and that frustration nearly prompted him, time and time again in this short span of minutes and seconds, to abandon the scene altogether and leave his friends and loved ones to their own devices.

Then again, he never did get around to telling them that he was going to show up 30 minutes early.

The first half of his quest to pass the time went fairly well, the kitschy attractions of the mass-marketed environment mildly drawing his interest if only or a few, precious minutes. His decision to stare at one of the more ridiculously brightly painted vases festooned along the walls for so long momentarily managed to hurt his eyes but he did get a chuckle out of the painting of a frowning generalissimo grouchily posing with his parrot. A slightly longer amount of time was spent/wasted watching the scurrying of the various bussers and servers, the harried laborers struggling to clear the tables in order to accept new customers that could further line their pockets. The decision to take the first sample out of a pitcher of Cissie's favorite kind of margarita and summarily downing said helping of alcohol worked even better.

Unfortunately, not even the most cleverly created of busy work was enough to get the job done. His fingertips were still a little sore from drumming them a little too hard and fast against the wooden table. His humming of the _Jeopardy _theme became a bit less carefree and a bit more forced and gritty. Thankfully, before the temptation to make another run for the pitcher of green liquid on his right could overwhelm him, his cell phone's rendition of _Highway to Hell_ sparked his attention. Quick to reach into his right jean pocket, the former professional acrobat eagerly received the call without even bothering to see who was calling him.

"Yeah?"

A bright, familiar chuckle went a long way to informing Nightwing of the identity of his partially expected caller. "Wow. Now there's a Wayne-model reply if there ever was one," the person on the other line responded. "Still, I think it's safe to say that, if you were trying to impersonate your old man, then you'd have been better off with that gruff 'What do you want? Don't bother me.' of his that sounds like he's trying to gargle gravel."

Nightwing shook his head, a reaction spawned not just by the insult but also his sudden need to admit that his tormentor did have quite the Batman impersonation. "I don't suppose that there's a reason behind your bugging me is there, Miss Lance?"

Dinah Laurel Lance, the somewhat costumed heroine known the world over as The Black Canary, let out a noisy, undignified _fpppppt _from her lips. "And just what's wrong with me wanting to check in on the feller who is not only one of my son's bestest buddies but also the tragic love interest of my own best friend? Emphasis on _tragic_."

"Now, see, this is just awkward for me," Dick replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "'Cause here I was thinking that it was just Ollie who was interested in robbing the cradle."

"Don't flatter yourself, Nightthing," Dinah coolly countered. "And I'll have you know that, from now on, my romantic interest is solely for those who can truly appreciate my physical and mental maturity."

"Sooooo, we're talkin' either 13-year-olds with filterless web browsers or old men with healthy supplies of money and Viagra?"

"Well, I have to admit that I'm apparently pretty popular in those circles," Black Canary somewhat forced herself to admit. "Not as much as say, Wonder Woman, but. . ."

"Well, what can you do?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dinah followed up with a melodramatic sigh. "And, all that aside, I was just calling to congratulate you."

Nightwing let his own sigh filter through the long-distance connection. "So you heard the big news, huh?"

"Of course I have, kiddo. And I'm guessing that you haven't gotten around to telling your dear ol' Dad about it?"

"Not yet," Dick answered, a shallow sense of foreboding evident in his response. "I suppose I can always hope that he just finds out about it on his own like he does with everything else," he reasoned. "Or perhaps, just maybe, I can get a friendly, somewhat neutral ear to tell him about it for me?"

"No dice, my boy," Black Canary shrewdly replied, the quick refusal inducing another light groan from her current conversational partner. "I'm no longer in the market for denying a father the challenge of trying to bond with their rebellious son."

A sour grin quickly emerged upon Nightwing's already dour countenance as his left hand reached for the pitcher of alcohol. "Thanks, _Mom_." he growled with an equally acerbic tone while putting pitcher to glass.

"Yeah, that's me," Dinah said with a contradictory degree of cheeriness. "Mother of 30 without a minute spent in the delivery room. Best method to motherhood, I've found."

"Maybe," Nightwing countered, "but then, of course, one of the kids show up looking for a place to crash and they don't have a billionaire playboy to mooch off of anymore. . ."

"Wellllllllll, you've got to take the bitter with the sweet," Dinah said with a mild degree of sagacity. "Good luck, kiddo."

Nightwing let out a Batman-like grunt as Black Canary ended the call, the suddenly arriving silence prompting him to spend several moments simply staring at his phone's transmission light as it flickered on and off. Following that up by downing half of his second helping of cherry syrup, pomegrante juice, lime, and tequila, he couldn't help but marvel how he could stare down everyone from The Joker to The Silver Coyote without even blinking an eye but the confrontation to come already had him shaking like a leaf.

"God damn it. Where the hell are they?"

* * *

_Wayne Manor - The Batcave – 4:02 A.M. E.S.T._

"BLOODY, BUGGERIN' HELL! GET OFF ME, TWEETY!"

Kara did her best to keep from laughing while simultaneously appreciating her fortune of being smart enough and quick enough to avoid the concentrated charge of one Stephanie Brown, the young Green Lantern apparently quite eager to wrap somebody within a bone-crushing embrace. Her boyfriend, however, was apparently deprived of those particular gifts at the present time and the price of his inaction soon led him to being caught in the short but muscular arms of the fair-haired, supernaturally-powered whirlwind. More curses and demands to be let go were soon to follow that were silently denied by and Lloyd found himself still too weak to either pry himself loose or teleport away.

"Let go of my second-in-command, Robin," Batman said flatly while Stephanie began to all but bounce The Black Dog up and down off of the cave floor. The young woman refused to follow the order immediately, of course, forcing Lloyd to endure three forced bounds before he could manage to break himself free. Much to The Black Dog's relief, the change in position enabled him to keep control of his body just enough to catch Stephanie as she charged forward once again, a chuckle escaping from his lips as he accepted his little sister's affection.

"You did it, Young Skywalker!" Robin cheered as she began bouncing on her heels. "The both of us have conquered the temptations of The Dark Side and emerged triumphant!"

"Don't really think that beatin' our opponent either 'til they buy it or run away really qualifies as choosin' the higher ground, Tweety," Lloyd couldn't help but confess as he spoke into Stephanie's hair.

"Ahhhh," Robin loudly dismissed the notion. "Everybody knows the best part of the crap trilogy was Yoda chopping off heads. And, hey, it's not like I can't make a lightsaber."

"Robin," Batman said once again, this time through mostly gritted teeth as Robin demonstrated her newfound talent while providing the _fashooon _sound-effect with her own lungs. "If you can't be serious then return to the idiotic festivities upstairs immediately."

"Ohhhhh, all right," Robin finally relented, the young soldier breaking away from the grip Lloyd had on her while tossing her head and hair backwards. "Oh, wait. Hold on. Can I get anybody's drink orders while I'm down here?"

"Get. . . out," The Dark Knight of Gotham City growled once again as Stephanie gave everyone a merry wave of her hand before throwing herself out of the briefing, a showy trail of emerald energy following her as she went.

"Huh. And I wanted a beer," Hal added just as the grandfather clock separating The Batcave from Wayne Manor proper slid shut.

"All right. All joking aside," Wally West broke in, The Fastest Man Alive looking somewhat impatient while leaning against a column of rock situated a good five feet away from the main conference table. "Just what the hell all happened out there, anyway? I mean, I thought it was just going to be us against The Sinestro Corps?"

"We strongly suspected that as well," Hal Jordan replied, the veteran pilot speaking for both himself and The Black Dog. "After all, it isn't as if The Spectre is usually one to cater to the wishes of us imperfect humans, even if it does owe them a favor."

"Yeah, so-called servants of God usually are pretty narrow minded in that regard," Lloyd added, the young Brit talking himself out of the temptation to wrap his tired, left arm around Kara's shoulders before moving to place his hands down onto the metal bench in a gesture of mild exhaustion. "An', knowin' that, we wanted to make sure that we didn't show a lot of people our trump card 'til we knew we could put it into play. Potential false raisings of hope and all that bunk."

"So how many people knew?" asked The Batman, his long fingers bending against one another in a steeple-like arrangement.

"Grayson, Jordan, Kuttler, Natu, Talia, Waller, and myself," The Black Dog quickly revealed, his eyes narrowing in mild concentration as he recalled the names. "All the people who could either get people to where they needed to be or could get in touch with someone who could."

"Hmmmmm. That was the best way to go about it," Batman concluded, his response startling quite a few of those around him. "The usage of accumulated Oan energy was an inspired move as well."

"Almost completely my idea, by the way," Soranik Natu interrupted with an almost fiendish gleam, the Qwardian obviously quite pleased to take credit for anything that would impede the grand pursuits of the monster that had long subjugated her people. "We knew we needed a way to feed the necessary supernatural energy to The Spectre in a way that we can take it back when it no longer needed it. And, given that we knew we were going to take some hits along the way, we figured it would be the best way to kill two birds with one stone."

"Well, I'm just happy that we didn't have to completely rely on the Giant Glowstick," Wally said with a relieved smile, his nickname for the supposed Scion of God drawing a sparse share of chuckles from those seated at the table. "Kyle and the others were able to shut down the battery on Qward and that left the Yellow Lanterns with nothing but their own reserves to work with and that let us eke out a win."

"Yeah," Kara concurred, the half-Kryptonian stifling a yawn before speaking again. "But not without it's costs."

A prolonged, pronounced silence hung in the expansive cavern as each of the generals and field commanders briefly remembered those losses in their own way. Some of them cast their thoughts back to some of their fellow outcasts who had fallen by the wayside, the proud warriors and the noble friends who had fought and died for what they believed in and would prompt those who remained to carry their burdens. Others focused upon faces that wouldn't be seen on the front page of a national newspaper, good people who would most likely never be publicly honored for their sacrifice save for a blurb in the local obituaries. They would, of course, be doubtlessly remembered far more diligently by others than themselves but respect prompted them to at least think of them for a deserving moment or two.

Several others drifted to a spacing of far fewer targets with far more familiar faces. Amanda Waller thought of a proud, ground-breaking soldier and teacher who dug himself deeply into the muck in order to let the light and electricity of life sparkle that much brighter. The Black Dog remembered a proud warrior with rich, scarlet hair who fought with such vigor and energy for what she loved and what she believed in that it prompted him to try and do the same in the future. Hal Jordan shook his head while drifting back to his memories of a young woman who had just discovered what she could do to change the world, an old man who had the time to teach anyone to fight so long as they were willing to take their lumps and do some good with what he taught, and how both of them were taken before either of them were remotely ready to go.

As for Batman and The Flash, they prayed that their patient, understanding friend now lived in a world of red skies, peaceful nights, and where the friends and family that he had honored time and time again would always be in his sights and under his protection.

"To Jefferson Pierce," Waller began, her tribute prompting a nod from many of those around her.

"Kay Reynolds," The Black Dog added, his rough but still dignified British patois sounding more like a grumble.

"Maxine Hunkel and Ted Grant," Hal Jordan threw in.

"To J'onn J'onnz," Bruce Wayne and Wally West said together, the jointly spoken words drawing the most vocal response of them all.

"To all those who helped us bear the burdens to get to where we are right now," Soranik Natu concluded. "And let us remember to do what we must to keep what they defended healthy and strong."

"Then allow me to make the first step," Amanda Waller went on, the still reigning White King of Checkmate impressing even The Batman by moving back on task so quickly. "Colonel Jordan, Officer Natu, on behalf of The United Nations I would like to publicly permit the transfer of all extraterrestrial prisoners of war affiliated with The Sinestro Corps to the authority of The Green Lantern Corps."

"That will be acceptable," Hal quickly approved. "And, since we're on the subject, in accordance with the previously established conditions written into the U.N.'s Extraterrestrial Protocols, a negotiable percentage of the remaining scraps of the nonfunctioning Manhunter androids will be made available for study by public organizations to be selected at a future date."

"I have a dream of a world of plasma spewing toasters attempting to protect our streets by killing us all," The Black Dog announced with more than a shade of sarcasm.

"Well, all bizarre and unnecessary visions aside," 'The Wall' went on rather sourly, the high-leveled government agent momentarily satisfied with Kara shushing Mao's former student. "The members of The League of Assassins that were corrupted by The Mensobous Luminitas are being transferred to a variety of borderless holding centers in order to be evaluated. Still, with enough effort, I imagine we shall be able to break them free of the thrall that Cizko and Culp placed on them, if only so we can properly charge them with a variety of crimes against humanity."

"Well, and I'm sure that Talia will be pleased as punch to hear about that," The Flash observed rather happily.

"Talia Al-Ghul knew the risks of entering into an alliance with us," The Batman warned in a rather gloomy manner. "That being said, Waller, I would put more than a little future effort into making certain that The League of Assassins' claims of altering their intentions are legitimate."

Waller let out a sound that could have been construed as a chuckle as she rose to her feet. "Or I could simply ask for your input after one of your occasional eavesdropping sessions upon your ex," she fired back with an almost imperceptible smile as she rose to her stubby feet. The sound of black dress shoes were already clacking off the surface of the floor before many at the table had finished laughing. "Ladies and gentlemen, given my busy schedule, I believe I shall take my leave."

"We're in your debt, Cabrini!" Lloyd shouted at Waller's back, the impulsive words prompting the long-time government agent to stop her steady steps.

"You want to make it up to me, Black Dog? Just do what you can to make sure that boss of yours doesn't set another foot into that so-called Hall of Justice across the street from my office. Not only is the damn place so shiny that it just wouldn't look right but also, after seeing what all of you were capable of, it would be a damn shame if Bruce Wayne suddenly thought he could do more as a member of the Justice League."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow both at the words and the sound of a faint grumble to his right that made him want to start laughing like a hyena.

"Ah, and Miss Zor-el?"

"Yes?" Kara asked, obviously surprised that Waller was speaking to her.

"Do make sure you keep that boy of yours in your sights. I don't believe he's one to stray but I've also learned that there are few things more stressful to work with than a cock-blocked professional soldier."

The Black Dog suddenly decided to show two fingers to his fellow former student of Mao Tenryu while Kara felt her cheeks flush just a shade too deeply for her liking. The surrounding laughter and applause was almost enough to blot out the sounds of a scraping of chair legs against the floor and another person rising to their feet.

"Well, I better check out myself," Hal Jordan announced while stretching his sore, left bicep. "Ganthet's already ready to grab me by the short hairs if I don't start helping to monitor the reformation of The Corps. Don't know why he thinks I can or even want to do such a thing but, then again, saying no isn't exactly much of an option in my line of work."

A chorus of appreciatory words was thrown Hal's way by a variety of surrounding sources. In response, the former stunt pilot did what he could to respond to each of the compliments in kind. He gave a broad grin to Wally when the speedster called him "the man", shook his head as Kara and Lloyd thanked him for what the latter had referred to as "a month's work of tackling dummy duty" and finally let out a groan upon hearing Soranik Natu's taunting promise that she would drink his fair share of the upstairs alcohol. However, despite all there was to react to, he found himself missing the words of one speaker in particular. A ripple of surprise was cast through his Paul Newman-like countenance (or at least that's how Dinah had put it during one five-hour, Justice League founders only drinking session) as he shifted his eyes toward his fellow Justice League founder.

"Are you expecting something?"

Having spent over a decade in this particular off-and-on scuffle, Hal knew well enough of the consequences of firing back at such a jab and chose to go a safer route.

"Batman, if there's anything I can do, even if it means looking Clark and Diana straight in the eye and lying to their face, to let your team keep doing what they're doing then I'll do it," the Green Lantern pledged. "And I'll make damn sure that the rest of The Corps do the same."

"Thank you for that."

Now _that _response truly surprised Hal Jordan, not to mention several others around the briefing table.

"The Batman has thanked me," Hal said with a significantly forced flatness. "I don't know how but I think I just became a monkey's uncle."

The fully-fledged Batglare thrown his way went a long way to restoring sanity in Hal Jordan's world.

"Don't start thinking too much of yourself." Bruce warned him.

Earth-1's first Green Lantern weathered the potentially accusatory words with a shrug of his shoulders and his usual, debonair smirk.

"That's not very likely with you around." Hal replied as he took his leave, his soldier-like strides taking him quickly towards the eastern hangar. His exit prompted many of the others at the table to rise to their feet, The Black Dog's informal recommendation to end the meeting quickly being followed. The Flash chatted with Soranik Natu about his kids and how eager he was to see them again as they both headed for the stone steps. Kara and Lloyd moved together as well, the two of them apparently not yet comfortable with being out of each other's sights.

"Are you all right?"

Dick Grayson, the only person at the table that hadn't spoken a word throughout the proceedings, snapped himself back to attention with help from the concerned words of his father. His eyebrows rose slightly as he seemed to wake himself up before the thin lines of black hair above his deep, blue eyes returned to their stable state.

"Yeah, I'm just fine," the younger detective calmly replied. "Just thinking."

* * *

_Devon – Saizeru Monastery – 5:09 A.M. E.S.T._

By now, even somebody as occasionally immature as Stephanie would admit that it took a bit too much cajoling for her to finally get here. Hell, the looks on Kara and Lloyd's faces that she had to endure before finally being convinced to wing her way across the Atlantic Ocean may have been enough to guilt Barbara Gordon into apologizing to Bruce Wayne (and maybe even vice versa). Still, despite her nervousness and the potent combination of her own culpability and trepidation, she was almost feeling cheery thanks to the conversation she managed to have on the way down to her current destination. The myriad of potentialities before her caused the blonde-haired Gothamite's normal exuberance to rise dangerously toward critical levels as a few, eager hops left her blonde hair to come dangerously close to some of the surrounding torches that lined the old halls.

"Aw, come on! You've got to have _some _kind of embarrassing Lloyd stories!" she insisted to her surprisingly patient audience. "You know, maybe some struggles with phallic issues where he's floating around holding his wee-wee and insisting he's master of his domain? Ooh, or maybe a poop story! I mean, he can't have been floating around in that giant test tube without something coming out."

Doctor Naomi Mitchell looked almost despondent as she shook her head back and forth, the 32-year-old taking quite a bit of time to ponder over just what kind of company Lloyd had been keeping in the past several years. "Miss Brown, I've already explained that both Lloyd and Vincent were almost always clothed throughout the experimental phase and all bodily refuse was quickly eliminated from the stasis tubing."

"Ohhhh," Stephanie interrupted, the young Green Lantern quickly blaming the potential for learning humiliating anecdotes for her temporary lack of understanding. "So Lloyd Boy just spent five years floating around in his own fecal matter. Well, that's hardly the best place to start but I think we can work our way from there."

Naomi once again let out a heavy sigh, one of the youngest ever graduates of Oxford Medical School quite disturbed with her sudden urge to explain the advanced filtering systems created by Doctor Immanuel Lugae. As she had expected, however, her temporary lack of a vocal response didn't seem to invite a lull into the current conversation.

"Still, this is sort of like what I was thinking I was gonna see on my way over here," Stephanie loudly confessed, the confusing grammatical structure almost forcing Naomi to diagram the sentence in her head. "You know, sort of like an anachronistic Hogwarts? Well, maybe without all the British private school homoerotic undercurrents. Then again, I still don't see why there's so much Harry and Draco fanfiction out there. I mean, the two of them are _nothing _alike and Harry clearly has it bad for Ron. I mean, why else would Harry marry his sister unless he secretely wanting to give him a poke?"

"Perhaps it lies in our best interest to not think of such things," Naomi replied firmly, quickly, and shrewly, the bubbling urge to express her feelings toward the obvious chemistry between Harry and Hermione quickly stifled.

"Ah, whatever," Stephanie relented with an almost careless shrug of her shoulders, an airy, winsome smile on her face as she regarded the somewhat flustered doctor. "Oh, and thanks a whole lot for watching over my big brother for all those years. I mean, I know he's gone through a little too much shit to go out and say that he thinks of you as his real mom but he seems a lot happier talking about those times than I think he should."

Robin was never very comfortable with expressing her feelings with other people, least of all strangers. Still, the quiet and reserved blush that washed over Naomi's somewhat pale cheeks provided a clear sign that her point had been made.

"Thank you very much for that," the older woman replied softly. "Although I still find it rather startling how an only child could ever come to acquire so many siblings."

Stephanie's soft gush of laughter sounded refreshingly genuine to both her and Naomi's ears. "You should be really proud of him, you know. I mean, sure he's got those tiny, girly hands and isn't much more than a toady, little perfectionist but at least he's really good at that."

Naomi nodded slowly while gradually sifting her fingers through the black hair around her temples, her smooth palms briefly sliding over her ears. "I'm just relieved that at least one of them survived this."

The younger of the two ladies responded with a nod of her own, quick to show that she understood what the suddenly tired looking woman had meant. "I've got to admit that I can't work up a lot of sympathy for Vincent. After all, the guy did try to kill everybody I know."

Naomi briefly shut her downcast eyes, the persisting pangs of regret and the long-running torrent of could haves and should haves momentarily becoming just a bit too much to bear. She still kept her black eyes rooted to the stone floor even as she forced herself to look at the world again, the strength she needed to look her audience in the eyes simply not yet there.

"All those years. . . I. . . I felt like I could always feel that anger. He always kept so much of his pain around him." The normally polished intonations within Naomi's prim and proper British brogue seemed to sound weighed down and subdued. "His thoughts were always trapped within themselves, even when his body was free. Who _could_ have let all of that go?"

"Lloyd did," Steph fired back strong and quick, the conviction within her words seemingly picking up Naomi's chin and forcing the older woman to look forward. "That's what we all have to do." Realizing that her words sounded just a bit too serious for her liking, Robin quickly changed tracks. "Okay, well, I'll be happy to trade some present-day Puppy stories if you can dredge up some embarrassing past stories. That brother of mine couldn't possibly have spent five years in a single place and not do something stupid."

"Fair enough," Naomi said with a bout of almost cathartic chuckling as both she and Stephanie came to a stop in front of a wooden door that separated the hallway from one of the older rooms within the expanded monastery. "All right, I believe that there's still a few minutes until the end of it but something tells me that you may not want to wait. I can provide some form of mediation if you wish. . ."

"No need, Doc," Steph quickly answered with her words and a dismissing wave of her right hand. "Thanks for the offer though."

"No thanks are necessary, Miss Brown. And good luck."

Robin responded with a fairly distracted nod, her attention already focused on the door in front of her and what lay beyond it. Despite all her external confidence, the proud Green Lantern quickly discovered that she needed to take several deep breaths before she could find the strength to pull against the handle that would enable her to swing the door open. The creaking of the aged wood sounding surprisingly loud as everyone within the sparsely populated room turned to stare at her. Interested sounding mumblings rose from the little ones seated at the surrounding desks but Stephanie soon found herself far more interested in the absolute silence that rose from the figure standing at the front and center of the room, the imperceptible look on the older woman's face almost daring Stephanie to keep looking back.

"Students. . . Everyone please. . . Please make your way to the common hall," Agnes Brown began shakily, the words becoming more and more authoritative as the dozen or so students began to rise from their chairs. "Follow your class leaders," she added with a definite degree of sternness, the sober tones of her voice even prompting her daughter to step aside in order to allow the students to take their leave.

Stephanie almost let out a grunt as she felt her butt slide against the cold stone along the eastern wall, the bizarre sensation quickly being blocked out by the sight of a woman she had both loathed and yearned to see for nearly three years. She could see definitive strength in those pale, blue eyes now, a sense of dignity that she had so fervently longed to see as a child that the realization that it was there now almost irritated her. Of course, that irritability quickly gave way to a temporary state of shock as Stephanie felt the sting of her mother's right palm lashing out at her cheek, the sound of the slap ringing in her ears. The physical damage was far too small to calculate, of course, but that didn't stop Stephanie from momentarily holding her palm over the struck portion of her face.

_So _**that's**_ where I got that from_, she couldn't help but think as she began to put her mind back together again.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – 6:42 A.M. E.S.T._

"Jesus H. Christ, I cannot believe that I live with such sick, sick people!"

The exclamation, as accusatory as it could have sounded to the naked ear, managed to be delivered within a state of relative relaxation. In fact, it didn't appear that any of the inhabitants of the sun-dappled parlor were looking to do much of anything, particularly anything that would necessitate making a great deal of noise to do it. Instead, the eight, quiet inhabitants remained compelled to merely chat quietly, their weary bodies ready to recline against the somewhat posh, certainly comfortable leather couches, soft armchairs, and lush carpeting that was available to them. None of them were quite ready to sleep, their senses still charged by all the adrenaline produced by the last twelve hours and the chaotic months that came before it. Explanations could have been provided as to why they all seemed to subconsciously find comfort within each other's close proximity but such examinations had yet to be approached.

"I really think you're makin' a mountain out of this molehill, Blonde Arrow," The Black Dog lazily replied, his drooping hazel eyes not even focused on his sudden accuser.

"Well, you'll pardon me if I think the fact that my friends engaged in _bloodplay _during their first sign of physical affection is mildly concerning. I mean, given your rather shabby past histories, I think I've got more than enough reason to make with the squickness."

"We did not engage in bloodplay," insisted Kara Zor-el, the young half-Kryptonian also not bothering to look at Cecilia while pleading her case. In fact, she appeared to be far more interested in shifting her attentions between watching her bare feet stretch across the opposite end of the loveseat and periodically looking upward to see the languid gleam in Lloyd's eyes. "We just screwed up our first kiss and some of Lloyd's blood just happened to get into my system." She knew she could have offered a more detailed explanation but the combined sensations of her annoyance and the feel of Lloyd's fingers slowly sifting through her hair as she nestled the back of her head on his lap suddenly made her feel like she could sleep for a week.

"Well, bloodplay or no," offered Roy Harper, his voice sounding somewhat distracted as his eyes kept track of his daughter's complicated journeys around the room, "leave it to the two of you to make your first kiss look absurdly complicated and drawn out."

The new couple locked eyes with one another, a silent conversation ensuing between them concerning what the penalty would be for Roy's sarcasm and just who would be responsible for administering it. Kara ultimately chose to briefly lift her head off of her newfound cushion and give a somewhat hostile glare to their troublesome friend before quickly plopping herself back down, content that she had done her job.

"I'm more interested in what came out because of it," Linda Park announced, the columnist and mother of two seemingly quite content with resting her own head against her husband's shoulder. "So Bruce is saying that Lloyd's blood served as the physical catalyst for the awakening of Kara's energy manipulation abilities?"

"That appears to be the standing theory," Linda's husband replied, The Flash more than happy to draw his lady love in closer within his sturdy, one-armed grip. "Of course, he's also attributing quite a bit of it to the emotional rigors of taking on Hank Henshaw."

"And leave it to Wallace West, the Teen Titans resident gossip magnet and puppy lover practitioner, to describe stuff about other people when that other person is already on hand to explain things."

Wally let out a frown, The Fastest Man Alive still a little too tired to work up something more exaggerated than a simple scowl. "Lian, sweetie? Can you muzzle your father for me? It seems that all the luck he had in Crime Alley is starting to give him a big head."

"Okay!" Lian Harper merrily replied, the 10-year-old quick to wrap her hands around Roy's mouth. In response, the red-haired sharpshooter took on a look of shock and surprise as he apparently tried and failed to speak, his green eyes widening in apparent outrage at being forced to endure such an injustice.

"Well, I'm still worried about all the ramifications behind this," Arrowette continued, the fair-haired archer apparently not worried enough to stop her languid lounging against the Oriental rug. "I mean, what happens if our second-in-command, in his own clumsiness and lust, has managed to awaken a bloodthirsty beast that may stalk us and kill us in our sleep in order to obtain more and more power?"

"Aaaaaand, you officially are no longer allowed to read _Twilight_," Linda declared, the words prompting a snort of defiance from the reclining vigilante. "And, just to cut it off the pass. No, Roy, you don't get to read them either."

"Awwww, and I wasn't even worried about Kara turning into a demon!" Arsenal whined while finally breaking himself free of his vocal chains, his strong arms quick to swoop his daughter up into his arms. "Personally, I'm a little more worried about hearing a bunch of bangs and squeaks coming from Lloyd's room and then I have to explain to my darling daughter just why Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Kara have locked the door and are making a bunch of funny noises."

"Yes, because so far you're raised your daughter to be the picture of innocence," Linda fired back with an extravagant roll of their eyes. "Please don't listen to him, Kara and Lloyd. You both deserve a lot of happiness and I really hope you find it."

"Who cares about their happiness?" Arrowette squawked back. "We need to be worrying about sharing our roof with a pair of sexual deviants who are into bloodplay and might be into bondage and dressing up like Wonder Woman and Superman and Kara pretends that Lloyd is a really, bad boy! I don't think I can be comfortable in a place like this!"

"Well, I still think that an office relationship is still the best death knell of any good partnership," Roy threw in, the lurid, confusingly placed sexual imagery apparently not affecting his sensibilities in the least.

"Well, you would be quite the standing expert in such matters. . ."

"Quiet, Miss Flash. Mommy and Daddy are talking," Roy snapped back before turning his attentions back to the newer couple. "I told you, Lloyd, the consequences of superheroes doing anything more significant than bumpin' uglies is the source of some of the worst, weirdest crap I've every seen in my career as a crime fighter."

"Says the numbnut who has or has tried to get into the holsters or quivers of the majority of the superskirts ever to walk into Titans Tower," Arrowette quickly fired back. "And don't you dare start making with the cow metaphors when it comes to Kara!"

"Oh, and the vampire hoohah is a lot better?" Roy countered.

"And, perhaps most importantly, do the two of you have anything to say about _any _of this?" Wally added, the young husband eager to break up the increasingly noisy argument for the sake of his hearing and his sanity.

Kara and Lloyd took another silent moment to look at one another, reading each other's thoughts. This time, however, it was Lloyd who volunteered to forward their response.

"Not really, no."

"We've decided to just let the children fight," Kara added, her eyes already closed and the right side of her face already pressing against Lloyd's right pant leg. "That way they can just tire each other out."

"Huh," Wally remarked, the speedster and husband briefly examining the response before issuing an approving nod. "Well, the two of you have my approval."

"Ta, West," Lloyd replied in a somewhat committed manner amidst the joint frowning of Cecilia and Roy. However, before another somewhat lazy argument could begin, a new voice interrupted the proceedings.

"Good morning, somewhat distinguished ladies and gentlemen of the manor," greeted Alfred Pennyworth, his polished tone matching nicely with the light padding of the soles of his dress shoes against the carpet. "I have come to the decision that the lot of you either choose to retire to your bedchambers or assist me in cleaning up the ridiculously extravagant mess that has accumulated throughout the kitchen and surrounding areas."

A combination of weary groans and tired complaints were soon presented to Alfred as all but one of the youngsters slowly rose to their feet. The caretaker took a moment to watch his charges make their way around at varying rates of speed. He saw how Linda stopped to briefly press her lips against her husband's cheek, how Roy had quickly volunteered to give his daughter a piggyback ride, and how Kara had wrapped her arms around Lloyd's back as the newfound couple made their way out with shared steps and found that he had to resist the urge to smile. It wouldn't be very professional, after all.

"Okay, the rest of you hit the hay," Wally ordered his fellow Misfits. "I think I'm good for kitchen duty now that it doesn't feel like my kneecaps are about to explode."

"Well, thank you for volunteering your services, Master Wallace," Alfred said in thanks. "Ah, and Master Lloyd? Please pardon my presumptuousness but I have taken the liberty of transferring some of your basic toiletries and a change of clothes to Miss Kara's room, seeing as how it is closer in proximity to the main stairwell than your own quarters."

"And Bruce keeps sayin' that 'e's the master detective in this house," The Black Dog thanked the distinguished gentleman as he and Kara kept slowly moving, the both of them eager for a very peaceful slumber.

"Pumpkin? Can you read me a bedtime story?" Roy asked the little lady gleefully clutching his back.

"Okay, daddy!" Lian replied, the quick jogging of her father allowing the both of them to easily pass Kara and Lloyd. "But you've still gotta take me to eat Mexican food when you wake up!"

"Please stop being heartwarming," Cecilia grumbled while also taking her leave. "I don't want to puke before going to bed."

Alfred wisely chose to turn his attentions away from the potentially insane conversations by giving another polite nod of thanks to Linda and Wally as they made their way towards the area of the manor formerly known as Nigel's bar. Realizing he still had one more duty to fulfill within this quiet chamber, he then took several, cautious steps forward to make his remaining task a bit easier.

"Something on your mind, Master Grayson?"

Nightwing remained quiet, his arms seemingly rooted to the armchair he was sitting in. Of course, given his many years of experience in dealing with the frustrations produced by uncommunicative vigilantes, Alfred Pennyworth was not to be undeterred by such a reaction.

"Perhaps I should apologize for being too vague, sir. It is blatantly obvious just what is plaguing your thoughts. Perhaps the problem lies with an inability to express it?"

Alfred took some time to let his words sink in, the former Interpol agent quick to guess that he would have to take another trip to the conversational well in order to draw what needed to be extracted. Taking in the boy he had watched grow into a man over the course of nearly 20 years, the distinguished gentleman did his best to mix his own painful admission with his usual dry humor.

"Perhaps it would be wise to recall that your compatriots just spent the last half hour discussing a wide variety of disturbingly unnerving topics. If anything can be taken from such vile drivel, perhaps it is that your words might not be as jarring as you think them to be?"

Not surprisingly, Nightwing still had nothing to say.

* * *

_Devon – 7:14 A.M. E.S.T._

"_Three years! Almost three years have gone by and you don't even have the courage to tell your mother that you're alive?!"_

"_Well, seein' as how you didn't care about what happened to me the first 16 years of my life. . ."_

Even the hottest of angers have the tendency to cool if it is given time to blaze out of control.

"_Of course I wanted to know that you were safe! What kind of a mother would I be if I wasn't?"_

"_You'd be you, I imagine."_

Of course, given the participants of this particular emotional conflagration, it took a bit longer for the anger and frustration to die down than it would for most. The many months of occasionally sleepless nights certainly had a great deal to do with keeping the fire burning as well, the frustrations and uncertain answers to lingering questions prompting both mother and daughter to let everything they had fly.

"_Well, if I'm such a horrific mother, such an utter embarrassment to you, then why should you care that I'm all right?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe I figured that somebody has to be the responsible one."_

The two women had let out a deep, collective breath, the exhaustive, vitriolic engagement finally prompting the both of them to rest, stop, and think. The younger of the two combatants at least had the generosity to wait and allow the older participant to take a seat first, the young Green Lantern watching her suddenly tired-looking mother slump back down. Unable to keep a frown from forming on her normally upturned lips, Stephanie lowered her eyes as she moved to join her mother, her bent legs still a good distance away from her mother's upon the oaken slab.

"I knew you were sowing a costume."

Stephanie let the words of her mother simmer for a while, the decision of what response to bring to the table lingering for a great deal longer than it should have. "What are you talking about?" she asked, well aware of what the answer was.

"When you locked yourself in my sowing room," Agnes elaborated, her voice still soft and slightly hoarse. "Right after you got out of that leg cast. I knew you were making a Robin costume. You really should learn to hide the evidence a little better."

The fourth person to don the mantle of Robin let out a hollow laugh. "It was still too tight, you know? Still, I was in such a hurry to get it all knitted together that I didn't bother to clean up. Of course," she confessed with a sigh. "It's not like I had very good teachers when it came to being subtle."

"Isn't that the truth," Agnes Brown said with an equally vacant chuckle, the response prompting her daughter to chortle just as she finished doing so. It was just another missed bit of timing between the two of them, another instance where they could never quite match up.

"Do you hate me?"

They got it right that time. The words were spoken jointly and the looks of shock and horror on both of their faces were almost a perfect match. It was all that was needed for the dam to break and for Agnes Brown to push herself forward and wrap her daughter into her shaking arms. Stephanie, despite having more than enough strength to pull away, remained momentarily still for just a second before returning the embrace, her short, blonde hair hiding the rest of her face that wasn't already covered by her mother's shoulder.

"I was so scared, Mom," Stephanie confessed, her voice stifled by the sudden hitching in her throat. "I just wanted to start again. I wanted to forget everything I was. I didn't want. . . _hic_. . . didn't want to be a. . . a failure."

"Oh, Steffie," Agnes cooed, a long stored-up reservoir of compassion and stored words being let forth with little to control it. "You are _not _a failure. You never were."

"But I _was_!" Stephanie croaked, her response loud and sharp as she pulled herself free. "I failed as The Spoiler, I failed at being Robin the first time, I failed to take care of you. . ."

"It wasn't your job to take care of me," Agnes said calmly, her anxious eyes looking over the miracle in front of her eyes. "Oh my goodness, I never could have dreamed that I'd be the least bit responsible for producing such a wonderful woman."

A part of Stephanie was almost angry that it couldn't stop her bottom lip from quivering or her eyes from becoming watery. Realizing that Batman would have her head for acting this way, she finally managed to pull herself together with a sniffle.

"I feel really sappy right now."

Her mother's laugh was a great deal brighter than it was before and the pressure at Stephanie's back was lighter despite the loss of wavering in her mother's embrace. Still needing some time to say anything more serious, Stephanie remained passive as she watched her mother give her a once over.

"So it looks like this Robin habit of yours is going to be a bit more permanent than I hoped," Agnes noted, her pale, blue eyes needing a moment to drift away from the R insignia on her daughter's black and orange battle armor. "Are you happy, Stephanie? Is Mister Wayne taking care of you?"

Stephanie first responded with a derisive snort summoned from all the teenaged rebelliousness that a hellion of a daughter could provide. "Please, Mom. I wouldn't put Bruce Wayne in charge of caring for my pet rock."

"Oh ho ho," Agnes fired back knowingly, her matronly instincts now kicked into a full bore. "Well, I apologize then. So are you taking good care of Bruce, then?"

"Of course I am," Stephanie said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, I'm a bad ass, intergalactic superhero now. I could kick Superman's ass seven days a week and seven times on Sunday if I wouldn't get arrested by the cops for doing it."

"Well, all that talent aside," Agnes replied, the older woman already thinking back to all the newspaper clippings reporting the exploits of heroes and dark vigilantes alike that her daughter had once tacked against the walls of a variety of tiny apartment rooms. "Is there any chance that this great heroine would have some room for a mother who'd like to occasionally make up for lost time?"

"I'd like that," Stephanie quickly answered, any veneer of posturing or swagger long drifted away. "I really would."

* * *

_Gotham – La Portana Restaurant – 9:35 P.M. E.S.T._

"Awwwww, I bet the reunion was all saccharine sweet like," Lloyd broke in, a heaving helping of sarcasm mixing in with the thick and recent swallow of Chianti and nachos. "Oh, my sweet Stephanie, my darling little daughter, I've never stopped missing you. Boohoohoohoo!"

"Oh, mommy! Just give me a hug!" Roy blubbered, his reaction drawing a good helping of both scowls and laughter. The degree of the latter ratcheted up even higher around the table as the two Misfits came together in a messy, awkward hug.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" shrilled Lian Harper, the young troublemaker wrapping her smaller arms around the right side of her father's chest. The three bawlers continued to make a disturbingly impressive amount of noise, the commotion drawing a fair degree of annoyance from the smaller, surrounding tables.

"Fuck you! I hate all of you!" Stephanie fired back angrily while attacking the offending huggers with a hail of tortilla chips and vitriol. Ever the protective father, Roy swung his arms and draped them across Lian in order to bravely shield her from the short-term barrage. Unfortunately, that left Lloyd on his own to shield himself from the shots thrown his way, his telekinesis rendered a non-option due to not wanting to draw even more attention than he already had.

Tragically, perhaps the one person who could have brought a stop to the insane proceedings had no apparent interest in doing so. Seated at one of the far ends of the long table, Bruce Wayne continued to silently watch over the proceedings. Well, perhaps "watching over" was a little much. In fact, it appeared that the billionaire playboy looked as if he was attempting to pretend to be in another place, his still, almost glassy-eyed countenance something that could only truly be acquired by one who had spent decades studying the art of meditation and focused thought. However, as wise as this maneuver seemed, it also happened to leave him wide open for the assault of some advantageous individual.

"Hey, boss, speaking of reunions," Cecilia began, her toothy grin just inches above her half-full glass of illegally obtained alcohol. "Mind explaining to the class just what you were doing at the East End while the rest of us were havin' a snooze?"

The Batman snapped back to attention with alarming speed, the sharp raising of his eyebrows a clear sign that a definitive nerve had been hit. In response, The Dark Knight of Gotham City administered a fully-fledged Batglare that could have withered the resolve of even some of the most hardened of career criminals. Of course, that fierce stare had just about as much impact on the majority of those clustered around him as a mosquito would have on an oncoming hurricane.

"Oh boy, here we go!" Roy exclaimed in disbelief, the sharpshooter confident that the firing lines had died down. "The next episode of 'As Bruce and Selina Turns'! What's the official count up to now?"

"I think this is number 92," Wally West replied gamely while checking over not only his infant son but also what little remained of Jai's dinner that had not either been eaten or carelessly strewn down onto the floor, the quick retort drawing another smattering of laughter. Bruce, however, apparently was not in the spirit of it and chose instead to turn his gaze towards the only possible source of the knowledge that his patrol partner had obtained.

"Oh dear. I suppose I should feel responsible for such a drastic leak of information," Noah Kuttler observed, the team's resident hacker putting down his half-eaten enchilada in order to demonstrate how serious he was. "I assure you, my friend. I am positively lamenting my mistake on the inside. Positively racked with guilt," he added with his own rendition of a roguish grin, his words earning him a friendly slap across the shoulders courtesy of Linda Park-West.

"All right, all right," Agnes Brown finally broke in with a word of warning. "All of you stop teasing Mister Wayne. And Stephanie, stop throwing chips at your brother."

"Yes, Mom," Stephanie replied.

"Yes, ma'am," Lloyd, Roy, and Wally complied almost as one.

Looking at the bizarre scene, the quietest of the table's occupants suddenly realized that it was time. He signaled this to the others by a loud clearing of his throat, the noise managing to easily carry over the suddenly subdued noise around him. Richard Grayson was determined not to be affected by all the surrounding attention, his eyes working hard to catch a glimpse of the friends and family around him.

"Um, not that I want to bring the party down but. . . I'm quitting the team, guys."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Wow. I just wrote a whole issue that, outside of some chucked nachos, didn't have a single fight in it! It's been so long that I almost forgot that I could do that. That being said, I have to admit that this chapter was a hell of a lot easier to write than the last seven or so installments. Not to say I didn't enjoy writing them, of course, but there's only so much time a person can spend writing about blood-drenched combat and looking up various Martial arts styles and sword-fighting techniques before you really start to see that writing about war is a hell of a lot tougher than actually going ahead and doing it. Probably explains why nobody ever wants to read _War and Peace_. . .

Still, I hope you guys have enjoyed reading _Culp's War_ and all that came before it. Judging from the now over 600 reviews, I think it's fairly safe to say that somebody is enjoying it. Then again, you can never be too sure. Maybe some more reviews would help clarify things (insert evil laughter here). . .

All right, I'll stop whoring now. Here's the next chapter preview. . .

* * *

Issue #83 Preview

When one door closes another one opens. Well, at least that's how the old saying goes. Of course, the number of doors that happened to be slammed shut in the aftermath of the rise and fall of The Sinestro Corps still remains uncounted. Why is Nightwing leaving the team and where will he go from here? What will happen when Sinestro makes his presence felt once again? Who will choose to try and fill the void created by the loss of people both good and bad and how can our not-so-distinguished author manage to fill up his many plot holes as he can in just one, last chapter? Find out in two weeks time as _Culp's War _comes to a close in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Touch the Happy Isles. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	83. Touch the Happy Isles

* * *

Issue #83

Touch the Happy Isles

_Gotham – La Portona Restaurant #42_

One of Richard Grayson's first lessons as an observer of nature was to analyze the degrees of behavior immediately after the antecedent reared its head. By reading the responses of others, analyzing the simplest of movements, and recognizing the differences and similarities between what was going on before and what you saw after, you could always find the best way of finding the next step to take or the next way to go. Granted, his checkered history when it came to his interactions with the opposite sex provided more than enough evidence that there was still a great deal to learn but Nightwing liked to believe that he had come a long way since Alfred's acting lessons from 15 years ago. It was a skill continuously honed and tailored from his past of short pants and dress slacks to the present days of Armani suits and Kevlar body armor, his growing talents and proclivities maturing with nearly every read and response.

His confession gave him another opportunity to exercise this particular skill and he moved to use it to his advantage. His sharp, blue eyes first tilted towards Kara and Lloyd, if only because he wanted to nip the simplest of his hypotheses in the bud before moving on to other endeavors. And, as he had hoped, the slight but perceptive glances the newly formed couple had chosen to give him allowed for a quick confirmation of his small suspicions. Next came those he had known a bit longer, the opinions that he cared for slightly more and was slightly less certain of. Thankfully, the genuine interest in the eyes of Linda, Roy, and Wally did a great deal to soothe him, further assuring him that he was making a good decision.

"What the hell do you think you're thinking?"

"This is _BULLSHIT!_"

He had expected those two responses as well, although his precise prediction of the words used to express them were not entirely on the mark. The fierce but hurt expressions on Cissie and Stephanie's faces tempted him to begin with the emotional reparations too quickly, the fire of his younger friends almost enough to draw him away from what he really needed to be looking for. Thankfully, the combination of a stern glare from Lloyd and some equally firm courtesy of Roy were enough to momentarily bottle up that burgeoning problem and allow Dick's thoughts and anticipations to become completely committed to the reaction from the man seated across from him.

All he could see at first was the stillness, an unmistakable sign that his father was waiting for more of the situation to unfold. It was a response that the younger detective couldn't help but regard and respect. After all, he'd have to be a fool to believe that a month apart and all the trials and tribulations that came with them would be enough for all of this to turn into a surprise.

_Don't think that I don't know what you're thinking, old man_, Dick silently assured himself while employing a few, scant seconds to note the similarly still expression on Noah Kuttler's normally pensive countenance. _You're waiting for me to drop the next card. Make the next move._

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Robin interrupted, the blond-haired Gothamite and successor to Nightwing's former mantle clearly not satisfied with Roy's advice to keep away. "Why are you leaving?"

"I've accepted an invitation to join the Justice League," Nightwing replied quickly, the raven-haired vigilante wanting to make certain that he could get his response out before he could begin to lose his nerve. "I've given myself a couple of weeks just to orient myself with the patrol patterns and case files but I'm expecting to join on full-time shortly thereafter."

"Well, gee," Arrowette butted in, the archer making no effort to hide the venom in her voice. "Why not just dye your hair, get yourself an S.S. uniform, and make with the goose stepping while you're at it?"

"That's enough!" Lloyd snapped back, the strength behind his words seemingly startling both of the fair-haired dissenters. "'S not like 'e's doin' this just to piss the two of you off. Somebody was gonna have to make a decision like this, wot with everything that's happened."

"There's no guarantee that Hal will be able to keep all of this under wraps on his own, especially with his additional duties as a Green Lantern," Dick elaborated, his explanation far more patient while holding only the slightest hint of trepidation. "J'onn's death robbed us of our best way of keeping what we do away from the eyes of the public and the bottom line is that one of us is going to have to step in and fill that void."

Dick felt himself let out a breath while taking in the annoyed sigh that Arrowette threw his way. He couldn't help but give a slight grin in return, the former acrobat comforted by the possibility that his father's current patrol partner was at least attempting to see things a little more clearly. Unfortunately, the look of utter betrayal resonating from Stephanie's face and shining brightly in her wide, pale blue eyes clearly told Nightwing that he hadn't gone two-for-two in the convincing department. He took a moment to forget about all the flirtatious comments and the mocking digs the Green Lantern had ever thrown his way and wondered if Stephanie had ever had any pictures of Robin festooned to her walls. After all, even his father couldn't hog the spotlight all of the time, right?

"What we're doing is too important to be thrown away or abandoned," he went on, the former Teen Titan founder speaking to everyone but looking straight at Stephanie. "I don't want you guys to lose the chance to do some real good in this world."

"I call bullshit."

Kara Zor-el's brusque comment provided the first real curveball in Nightwing's eyes, the harshness of the verbal body almost causing him to physically wince in reply. A long-maintained poker face could have given the half-Kryptonian the opportunity to really put him on the ropes but the quick emergence of an encouraging smile set Dick's mind back into a momentary state of relief.

"Come on now, Richie Cunningham," Wally was quick to add with an equally wide smile. "Please don't keep going on and on about how you're just doing this because it's the right thing to do."

"Too right, mate," Lloyd added, his long arms stretching across the table to clink bottles with The Fastest Man Alive. "Poor sot can't even confess to leavin' the nest even after we've seen him flyin' away, can he?"

"Ohhhhh, hush up, you two," Kara interrupted, the young woman leaving Linda to the task of admonishing Wally while taking the time to cuff her own boyfriend on the back of his head. "Dick, how about you just tell us what you really want? We're not going to bite your head off for it, you know."

Dick found himself chuckling, if only because he couldn't believe that this would be so difficult. "I've really been watching all of you for a long time," he confessed. "And. . . I see Steph being Robin and Roy being with Lian and Wally with his kids and. . . and I want what everybody else has. I want that new chapter. I mean, I don't even know how the hell it's going to end up but. . ."

"You might fall flat on your face again, buddy," Cecilia kindly warned, the hostility in her voice all but gone now. "Or that exquisitely fine ass of yours."

"Yeah. But I might succeed," Dick replied with a little smile, the twinkle in his rich, blue eyes prompting the gold medal winner to smirk in reply.

"Woah, woah! Now wait a minute!" Stephanie continued to protest, the current Robin almost looking ready to pout. "Why is everybody else so ready to agree to this? This is. . . this is us, Dick." The words started out as a plea but quickly shriveled into a half-pathetic warble. "You belong here. With us."

"That's enough, Stephanie."

The hardhearted words from the north end of the table rang clear, true, and brought Stephanie's uneven complaints to a quick end, the austere delivery of Bruce Wayne serving its customary role of silencing the relative rabble. The lone exception was a quick and quiet "show time" that seemed to leak from Roy's lips before Cecilia's well-placed kick to the sharpshooter's shin caused him to let out a yelp before shutting up completely. To be fair, Dick remained as emotionally even as he could under the withering stare of his father, his fingers shaking only slightly as his long wait looked to be coming to a surprisingly quick end.

"Is this what you want?"

"Absolutely." Dick's answer was quick, assured, and surprisingly devoid of the irritation he normally would have felt upon being forced to answer what he thought to be a silly question.

"And is this really a path that you want to travel? Something that I've already pored over and abandoned years ago?"

It was a small wonder, given how harshly that he had been driving his fingertips into the wood, that Nightwing hadn't mange to bore any holes into the table he was seated out. Still, the looks of warning that Kara, Lloyd, and Wally did wonders in calming him down, the more mature part of him quick to realize the true purpose behind the accusatory words.

"This isn't about wanting or not wanting to be you. The bottom line is that this is something I want to do because I know that it's something that I can do well. I can do this because you took the time to teach me to be as good as you and I've trained myself to learn from your mistakes so I can be even better. Now, I've finally managed to convince you guys of this and, hell, I've even managed to persuade myself every now and again so now it's time to show everybody else. I _need_ to do this."

The familiar half-smirk arrived at somewhere around the halfway point of the well-prepared explanation. In fact, as his son began to make claims of his superiority, the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City almost found the urge to break into an unfettered smile. However, knowing of what could come across from such a betrayal of his own emotions, Bruce managed to quickly pull himself together by the time Dick had pulled his body forward, the father respecting the son's attempt to get his point across.

"You'll always have a home here," Bruce insisted while doing what he could to keep his voice from cracking. His near slip caused Dick to flash a genuine smile in gratitude, a reaction that, in turn, prompted another lifelong Gothamite to snort before harshly slamming her head into the table. Much to the table's unspoken relief, however, Dick managed to silently make his way over to Stephanie before she managed to finish her fourth head butt, the sound of the _awwwwws _and all the surrounding laughter allowing him to silently wrap his long fingers around the Green Lantern's shoulders.

"Hold on there, sprout. Don't start thinking that just because I'm leaving Gotham doesn't mean that I'm going to abandon this big-ass family. After all, I do have to make sure that a certain someone is respecting my distinguished legacy."

Stephanie gave Nightwing a sad smile as one of her former idols sifted through her hair with his fingers. "I'll. . . I'll drag the whole Watchtower down if I have to."

"All right," Dick said with a smirk of his own before briefly pressing his lips on Stephanie's forehead. "And I _do _think that it's high time that there be a Robin with actual breasts."

Robin felt her cheeks flush as she let loose a shy giggle, if only to keep herself from crying like a baby. Thankfully, her struggles seemed to become a great deal easier as Dick took his eyes off of her and shifted towards another one of her fair-haired compatriots.

"What's the first rule about Batman Club, Cissie?"

The knowing smirk on the archer's face was quick to resurface. "Going through the whole patrol is always better than the extra training that you have to go through if you don't."

"I leave him in your hands, Arrowette."

The somewhat subdued thumbs-up Cecilia gave him in return left Nightwing fairly confident that another mission had been accomplished. Still, he couldn't help but be somewhat distracted by the assured patting on the stomach that Stephanie had to give him as he twisted his neck to the left in order to shift to another target.

"You've spoiled me, Answer Man," Dick couldn't help but confess (although he did manage to keep his voice relatively flat). "Now I'm just going to have to get used to relying on a more standard set of eyes to watch my back."

The Calculater's huff somehow managed to sound somewhat dignified as the hacker moved to clean his glasses. "Well, I suppose I should be pleased that I didn't have to resort to the illicit means that Miss Gordon needed to apparently earn your approval," he declared while reaching for his handkerchief. "Still, I suppose I should be grateful that at least one member of this rabble seems to truly appreciate my efforts."

"Oh! I want to go next! Me! Me!" Wally said with what Nightwing hoped to be mock excitement, The Fastest Man Alive's predictably quick arm movements almost upturning the nearby bowl of tortilla chips even before they began.

"All right, all right," Dick replied, the fellow Teen Titan founder equally hasty to appease his oldest friend. "Just remember to keep pissing off my pops, Wall-Eye. After all, the two of you seem to work best that way."

"Well, I was going to do that anyway," Wally couldn't help but own up with a sarcastic shrug of his shoulders. "But now that you're _telling_ me. . ."

"Hush up, husband," Linda warned the father of her children while moving to swipe a moist toilette across her son's messy cheeks.

"Do your best to try to remain sane, Linda," Dick offered in a whimsical suggestion to the occupied house matriarch of Wayne Manor.

"I can't make that kind of promise," Linda replied quickly though distractedly, the Korean-American's quick, analytical eyes busy with sweeping across her son's features with a well-practiced promptness. "Still, I suppose I can make the attempt."

"All right, sit your arse down, Grayson," Lloyd interrupted. "After all, if we just sit and wait for you to finish with all the cockle-warming tributes then we'll be here all soddin' night. Not to mention that we still need to get through the night's toast while the lot of us have a relatively full glass."

Dick found himself quick to comply, the chiding and joshing words that followed prompting him to break into a brisk jog as he made his way back towards his end of the table. He brought his right hand down onto the table as he moved to take his seat, his fingers wrapping around a small, circular object that Arrowette had made sure to give him the moment she and the others had arrived. Trapping the tasty treat into a steady pincer grip, he tried his best not to giggle as everyone at the table, save for Stephanie's mother, did the same. As he waited for Cissie to make the next move, the first junior partner of The Batman did what little he could to shift his mind and memories in order to remember the moment to come, just as he had done so frequently over the course of the last two-and-a-half healing years.

"To J'onn J'onnz," he heard Arrowette say. "Because he'll always be our favorite Martian."

Nightwing closed his eyes and shook his head as he dropped his Oreo into his nearby glass of Guinness. Moving to gun down the contents of the container just as everyone else was doing, he realized that this was probably not the best way to honor a fallen friend but, then again, he was never one to take the usual highways and byways.

* * *

_107.5 miles above Karbarra's magnetosphere_

Kyle Rayner was almost grateful for what had turned out to be a phenomenally quiet patrol. His peaceful travels along the celestial sphere of one of the universe's premier industrial centers gave him a great deal of time to think about everything that had happened and what may come of it. So many things seemed to have run into one another in so short a time, even in terms of his usually busy life as an artist and a soldier, that the Green Lantern found that having the time to really look it all over was quite the blessing. The death of his mother, the explosion of chaos and confusion that came with the invasion of The Sinestro Corps, the horror of Parallax, the liberation of being ripped free of it, and everything that led to him being willingly stripped of his claim to be the Torchbearer of The Green Lantern Corps was proving to be hard to swallow and even more difficult to digest.

_Maybe the problem here is time_, the illustrator whimsically thought as he poured his body into a graceful, westward turn that would soon lead him to loom over Karbarra's capital. _Maybe it will just look like another day at the office sometime. Maybe just not at __**this **__time._

"_Well, it seems that your transition to a lower power level seems to be going smoothly_," John Stewart observed, the marginally impressed tone managing to sound quite clear thanks to the strength of the Corps' neural network around Oa.

"_It's just like Guy Gardner's always saying, Captain Crew Cut," _Kyle fired back to his faraway friend. _"You either thrive or die in our line of work, good buddy."_

"_Sad but true, Rayner. And, believe me, there's a lot more I'd rather do than agree with that mop-topped cretin."_

Kyle couldn't help but chortle, the airless space around him robbing the gesture of its noise but not its emotion. _"You know, it's not that I'm not happy to hear from you, old man, but I'm hoping that there's another reason for calling me other than to rag on the one-armed wonder."_

"_Not really," _John fired back, his candor surprisingly whimsical given who was speaking. _"Well, I suppose I am a little interested in seeing if you knew anything about how the construction of that new monument is going."_

"_Well, it just so happens that Kami and the boys just put on the finishing touches," _Kyle answered, the younger Green Lantern willing to indulge in the architectural-based fascinations of his colleague. _"Of course, I'm not about to tell Roy about how the Karbarrans decided to build a 50-foot statue of him right in the middle of their capital."_

"_I suppose that would be for the best," _John confessed. _"Call it a day, Colonel Rayner. Your relief is already on route."_

"_Will do, John_," Kyle answered, the former Ion quick to cut the telepathic connection. The gesture might have been considered to be a little hasty by some but it did manage to serve a pair of purposes. The first, of course, was to bring Kyle back to what he had wanted to think about, an unsurprising endeavor given how much time he had already spent pondering over everything already. The second, spawned by a discovery made about ten seconds too late, was that he had an unexpected visitor. Thankfully, the emergence of a golden, force bubble that wrapped around his body before extending outward for about twenty feet in all directions served as solid evidence that the new arrival didn't want him dead, despite how easy it would have been to complete the task.

"I've been wanting to ask you a few questions," Kyle began, the Terran quickly proving his hypothesis that the breathable air within the force bubble would enable him to speak.

"Is that right?" Sinestro replied, the first and last of the Yellow Lanterns replied shortly after making his own way into the pocket of foreign space. "Well, in the interest of helping you keep up your façade of deductive capabilities, young Lantern, perhaps you should address your greatest lingering concern and make your way from there."

Kyle was more than happy to let the verbal jab slide, his eyes shutting in concentration as he began to pore over his thoughts. "I haven't slept in three days now, if only so I can piece this all together that much quicker, and I really think I've come a long way in getting it all done. I mean, I needed Ganthet to tell me about how you went to The Silver Coyote because you needed someone with the power to provide enough energy for the genesis of the Qwardian power battery but I knew that you were ultimately behind the construction of it. Everything written about you says that you wouldn't let anyone else take a hold of that kind of a responsibility."

"I suppose that is a reasonable conclusion," Sinestro agreed, the former overlord of Qward slowly crossing his arms across his chest. "But just what are you attempting to imply?"

"I'm _implying _that I shouldn't have been able to shut down that battery on my own, even with Jade's powers," Kyle countered while doing his best to look imperious as well. "That link to the anti-matter universe didn't need to be there and the only possible reasons that it would be is that there was either a design flaw or that whoever made it wanted to make sure that they'd have a quick out in case something went wrong."

"An interesting conjecture, Mister Rayner." The deference in Sinestro's narrow, beetle-black eyes was almost impossible to spot but it was there nonetheless. "And which one of your theories do you happen to be placing your faith behind?"

Kyle didn't reply with his words right away. Quite frankly, he was feeling far too good about himself to do that. Instead, he slowly floated his way forward just so he could look Sinestro in the eyes. He may have always hated it when Ironman or Thor would do that in the comic books but, now that he had the opportunity to try it, he found the potentially frightening endeavor to be quite appealing.

"Why did you set your own side up to lose?"

"Whoever said that The Sinestro Corps was my ultimate design, Mister Rayner?" Sinestro quickly counteracted the pointed accusation, the veteran soldier not giving an inch. "If you truly took the time to look into my history and raison d'etre then could you honestly believe that bequeathing power upon the timid and knock-kneed so that they could struggle to grasp the reins of power would be something I'd struggle so hard to achieve? No, little one. Unlike many of your distinguished compatriots, my actions will always be guided in dedication to the greater good of myself and those I choose to protect."

"But you lost Qward," Kyle fired back with more than a hint of surprise. "You just threw away everything you apparently spent half of a lifetime to build."

"I am a servant of the cosmos, Kyle Rayner," Sinestro said shrewdly, the Korugarian's decorous candor making the unbelievable suggestion sound almost noble . "For all my experience and prowess, I am not going to impede my pursuits by ever claiming to be a master of all I survey. That, Mister Rayner, is a lesson that you would do well to remember if you wish to survive what is to come."

"Is that right?" The question was almost devoid of rancor or venom, the natural curiosity in the younger spacefarer taking over. "And just what is so bad that it's even got you apparently shaking in their boots?"

The smirk on Sinestro's face was more of a sign of amusement than sarcasm.

"I'm not afraid of the future or whether or not I can play my role, Kyle Rayner. Only anxious about whether or not you and your comrades from that little, blue ball will be able to do the same. Everything we know is threatening to revert back to where everything began and you must learn to fight time properly if you wish to win the day."

* * *

_Bludhaven – The roof of BLGW Headquarters_

The two weeks that had passed by since their first kiss and the subsequent genesis of the mutual idea that Kara and Lloyd no longer wanted to be outside of each other's sights had allowed Kara and Lloyd to restore at least some semblance of their everyday behavior. They had stopped being "disgustingly clingy", as Arrowette had been more than happy to describe it, and had grown to be more comfortable with the frequent times when neither one of them felt the need to say or do anything while the other one was around. The emotional restraints had readjusted themselves to a saner footing and, because of that, the secure silence that soon arose as they waited upon the snow dappled rooftop quickly became more than welcome.

"You know, it's not like the both of us don't have other things to do tonight," Lloyd said matter-of-factly. "I mean, the bloke's barely spent a handful of days back in superhero high society and he already looks ready and willin' to pull an Elton John on us."

"You've still got plenty of time," Kara assured her mildly annoyed boyfriend, her tone pleasant but otherwise distracted by her attempts to waft the steam rising from her cup closer to her nostrils. The green tea that lay within the Styrofoam container wasn't first rate by any stretch of the imagination but she found the scent to be somewhat pleasing nevertheless.

"No, I don't. In fact, a great deal of my tremors could be eased if you just changed your mind and came with me," Lloyd countered, the smell of tea leaves and recently fallen snow doing a bit to ease his spirits. "I mean, 's not like the wouldn't like to see you."

"Maybe, maybe not," Kara quickly broke in, her playful tone disarming The Black Dog's quickly dying anger. "Besides, we both know that somebody has to be here in case Stephanie accidentally attempts to blow up the world and Wally's already patrolled with her for two straight nights."

"Well, I do suppose that's fair," Lloyd confessed while bringing his girlfriend closer to him with a stretch and contraction of his right arm, the gesture prompting Kara to briefly nuzzle his shoulder. "Oi! You hopin' to watch us in the hopes we'll start snoggin' or are you gonna come out the shadows an' say hello, Grayson?"

Nightwing let out a familiar half-smirk as he watched Kara and Lloyd rise to their feet, his whole-hearted effort to sneak up on the couple meeting its inevitable failure. "I think I've had more than enough opportunities to scope out the two of you swapping spit, thank you very much," he countered before eagerly accepting a one-armed hug from his favorite blonde-haired Kryptonian. "Sorry for being late, you two. I somehow managed to underestimate Wonder Woman's desire to make her opinions heard."

"Yeah, she does have a gift for picking the right words and is not afraid to show it. Still, I'm guessing that life's going well for you at The Watchtower?" Kara asked as she pulled herself free.

"It's decidedly saner," Nightwing replied, his long fingers wiping away some sweat that had built up around the bridge of his forehead. "Everybody is still in a little shell shock after everything Vincent threw at us but Alan and Jay are doing a great job putting everything back together again. We've managed to gather back a lot of the new Titans and they'll be back in operation in a couple of weeks as well."

"Good to hear," Lloyd continued without an ounce of jealousy in his voice as Kara continued to hang around his older friend. "An' how about the other part of your new job? You gonna be able to keep our activities under wraps?"

"Well, in life there are no guarantees. Still, J'onn did a great job to set things up for a successor. Not to mention that Dinah has put a lot of the pieces together so Hal and I are thinking of bringing her aboard in order to lend a hand."

"Sounds like an idea."

Dick and Lloyd seemed to nod together, the two second-in-commands seemingly quite comfortable to keep up the shop talk. Several more seconds of hems and haws passed before Kara finally rolled her eyes and pushed the whole thing forward, fuming at the stubbornness of her former crush and current boyfriend.

"That's it! I'm finally going to ask! Just why are we getting together anyway?"

The two field commanders chuckled, the shared intimation slightly igniting Kara's half-hearted indignation. Try as she might, though, she still found it phenomenally hard to stay mad at either of them for very long.

"Well, I know we're all a little busy but it sort of occurred to me that I forgot about something," Nightwing admitted.

"And just what might you be forgettin', Short Pants?" Lloyd asked with upraised eyebrows.

"That I'm counting on you, Lloyd," Dick said seriously while extending his right hand. "If it wasn't already your job to watch over Bruce and the rest then it certainly is now. You've earned my trust time and time again and I wouldn't allow anyone else to do this for me. I want you to know that."

"Thanks, mate," Lloyd replied while accepting the proffered gesture, his tone soft and meaningful. "Just remember to keep your sunny disposition, yeah?"

"Well, as nice as this is to see," Kara broke in, her old memories of forced open secrets and hostile words suddenly quite strong. "I'm sort of failing to see why I've been invited if all you wanted to do was engage in some manly camaraderie."

"Because I'm counting on you to look after _him_," Dick shrewdly answered, his words causing the disturbingly powerful couple to chuckle. "After all, manly men like us need somebody around who can keep us from doing too many stupid things."

"Well, as long as we're giving each other good words and assignments," Lloyd broke in over Nightwing's smirk and Kara's smooth chuckling. "Do try to keep yourself from the pryin' eyes of your ex-girlfriends, Sir Grayson. Well, aside from your ritualistic one-night stands and all that. . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Nightwing replied, the former acrobat countering the familiar insult with a slight slug to the shoulder. Uncoiling his right fist, he smoothed the flat of his hand across his torso to swipe off the fallen snow on his battle armor. "Well, guys. How do I look?"

"Like rabbit dung I swiped off the end of me Doc Martens last week," offered Lloyd.

"Like you're ready to show the world no mercy," Kara proposed with a great deal more sincerity, the smirk on The Black Dog's face a strong sign that he agreed. Dick found himself satisfied with both answers, the Justice Leaguer giving his friends a last, appraising look before breaking into a relaxed run. His long, muscular legs bent almost instinctually as he leapt off of the rooftop, the cold winds seemingly running through him as the familiar _zing_ of a zip-line sounded off over the streets of his adopted home.

"Well, it looks like I'm off to Gotham," Kara observed while watching her friend swing away out of the corner of her eye. "Tell Scandal I said hi, okay?"

"All right," Lloyd replied, his arms briefly stretching forward so he could grasp Kara's shoulders. The awkward embrace, despite the shy smile it brought to the Kryptonian's face, carried on a bit longer than it needed to. The two of them would have had to be blind not to see what could have filled the gap between embrace and goodbye but that fissure still seemed frighteningly wide to traverse, the risk still too great to be outweighed by the potential consequences. Instead, The Black Dog reluctantly chose to swing his arms back to their resting place while Kara nodded her head back and forth and shut her eyes.

Another chance would come. Another opportunity would present itself. Lloyd knew this as he almost noiselessly cast himself into the sky, his lithe, muscular body employing the eldritch energy within it in order to defy gravity and keep himself aloft. Looking down, his hazel eyes caught the reluctance on Kara's face before he wrenched himself away and threw himself westward.

"I love you."

His whisper was so soft that he knew that only Kara could hear it.

"_I love you, too._"

Just as he was the only one who could understand the reply.

* * *

_Thailand – Amanpuri Resort_

Edgar Cizko had taken more than a moment to appreciate the natural beauty of the sun-kissed beaches along the Anadman Sea over the past several weeks. Additionally, those languid days had not only provided many an opportunity to pursue some of the more carnal delights he had come to admire in his days but also allowed him to acquire quite the even tan. He even took a moment out of his suddenly busy schedule to admire his bronzed, somewhat flabby physique, the dark tints within the lenses of his designer sunglasses doing little to dissuade his opinion that he was looking good. In fact, perhaps the only worry that had surfaced over the past several hours spent sipping coconut shells full of the finest rum the Fiji Islands could provide was that the recent addition of swim trunks might leave him with tan lines.

Still, he did have company after all.

"You have spent far too much time engaged within these fruitless exercises, Doctor Psycho," insisted Edgar's furious, profusely fretful company, the cool winds blowing from the west apparently doing little to smooth the wrinkles on the man's wide, hairless face and forehead. "You have promised to aid me in regaining the honor and respect that was so unceremoniously stripped from me! I have assembled my army! I have devoted years toward my final effort to show these pathetic mental plebeians all that I have done for them and yet you feel content to do little more than dawdle within your own vices!"

Cizko let out a quiet "tut, tut" while taking another sip from his makeshift goblet, the thin slivers of coconut running smooth across his tongue and throat as the alcohol soothed right along with it. "You know, I'm finding it hard to believe that someone who could have had Scarlett Johansson riding him like a pony just twelve hours before could possibly be so ornery now," he observed, the diminutive telepath chuckling at what he considered to be one of his more agreeable of recent exploits. "I mean, I didn't just go through all that trouble of hypnotizing her just so I could figure out whether or not she was a natural blonde. You _really _need to learn how to relax, old man."

"I no longer have interest in such tawdry activities," insisted Doctor Psycho's increasingly unwanted guest, the unyielding tone prompting Cizko to roll his eyes in annoyance. "I threw my life away in order to protect the world and all I asked was to receive the words and respect that should come with such endeavors!"

"Yes, yes, yes, you're going to ruthlessly slaughter millions 'cause your mother didn't buy you the Care Bear you wanted for your ninth birthday. Believe me, I've heard it all before from some of my past colleagues and the only thing it got them was an abysmal failure followed by a surprisingly violent death. So, if you want my help as well as my advice then you're going to have to remember your indoor voice, binky boy."

The suggestions, as infuriating as they may have been, seemed to be quite diluted by Cizko's accurate retelling of the events that had already passed. The sweat may have continued to slip down off the man's long forehead and his breathing may have remained a little more hitched then it should have been but he did seem to be calming down. To his credit, Doctor Psycho did seem to make a bit of an effort to acknowledge the efforts of his colleague, the little man trying to look somewhat impressed as his black eyes seemed to peek up over the top of his glasses. Of course, the majority of his active thoughts were more devoted to the task of making sure that he would soon be provided with another helping of rum but, thankfully, a lovely, bikini-clad woman soon arrived with just what he was looking for.

"First off, if you're going to have even a bit of a shot in getting what you think you deserve then you're going to need to learn how to wait it out," Cizko advised, his thick eyebrows twitching as his serving girl moved to give his tiny shoulders a thorough massage. "I mean, I know better than anyone that randomly torturing all the Pollyannnas of the world has its fair degree of entertainment value but you can only spend so much time working with people that are all about the endless crusade and the divine right and the needing to work harder than our enemies that you begin to notice just why they keep on losing."

"And what would those reasons be, Doctor Cizko?" the old man asked with dwindling patience.

Cizko first responded to the question with a lazy snort, as if the telepath couldn't believe that he would be forced to elaborate. "Well, for starters, they never learn to relax and wait it out! I mean, look at all the shiny heroes in the newspaper stealing my advertising revenues, my man. Do you think they spend all their time rescuing kittens and posing for pictures and plotting and planning how they're going to take us all out? No! They do the things that everyone else do! They laugh, they stress out, they eat, fuck, and be merry! They live for the day and the lifetime all at once!"

Edgar's collaborator let out an ungainly grunt of his own, the fellow unimpressed both with the answer and the fact that the presumptive little man seemed far more entrenched with making certain that the chocolate-skinned specimen could dig her fingertips against just the right spot along his chest. "And just what am I supposed to learn from such tedium?" he asked.

"That you've got to enjoy yourself!" Cizko hissed, his pudgy right ring and index fingers slamming against the adjacent side of his head. "Rest your noggin and take in the good things in life! Trust me, there are enough wannabe dictators and despots out there to keep the good little boys and girls occupied while we sit back, relax, and wait to pick our spot. Believe me, there's little good to be had in trying to force the angels to try and show that they can beat back the devils. The real trick is getting them to forget what they're looking for until it's too late."

The old man suddenly seemed to truly give his partner's advice some honest thought, his aged eyes momentarily breaking away from Doctor Psycho's knowing gaze in order to briefly glare at the woman rubbing Cizko's shoulders. Of course, his attention was almost fully placed upon the eldritch sigil tattooed to the back of the woman's neck, the symbol of Cizko's complete control over her, rather than anything else the local beauty had to offer. Letting out a somewhat anxious sigh, he inevitably rose back up to his tired feet. His arthritic hands stiffened with the rise of a squall rushing in from the high tide and his knees started to complain the moment he began to walk away from the open porch with short, shuffling steps.

"I shall be in my laboratory."

"Do what you want," Cizko relented with a sigh, the murderer apparently no longer interested in gaining another convert to his cause. A lascivious smile rose on his short, shrunken face as he silently commanded his remaining visitor to lean in close to his lips. Reluctantly putting his shandy of amber liquid aside, he gave the offered neck a long, satisfying lick. "I shall remain here, enjoying the fruits of my many, many labors."

* * *

_Lhasa, China - Johkang Public Cemetery _

Lloyd couldn't help but stop and think about his surroundings as he strolled through the northern gate, the aged, wooden double doors letting out a slight creak as the wind blew around him. A brief spattering of afternoon rain had dampened the fallen leaves that had yet to be taken away by public cleaners as well as the scant displays of floral arrangements that the city council had approved to be placed upon the surrounding grounds. The scent of orchids and plum blossoms wandered into his senses as he made his way forward, the lapels of his long coat brushing against the tips of the long grass as he moved. Everything around him seemed to let off a quiet, dignified strength that had persisted for centuries, a hard-hearted splendor that could only truly be appreciated by those who would choose to take the time to look for it.

_Leave it to the old man to find the perfect spot_, The Black Dog thought as the four other denizens within the burial ground turned to look at him. Just as he expected, only two of them, the slimmest and the pudgiest of the lot, chose to move forward to meet him. The little one was quick to wrap him within a tender but meaningful embrace, the sparse smell of designer perfume joining the cornucopia of available senses while the more rotund one added a swath of beer breath and a slug to his shoulder that managed to sting the young Brit even after having nearly a decade to learn how to endure it.

"I'm glad that you chose to join us, little brother," Scandal remarked while giving The Black Dog a once over. "This truly wouldn't be the same without you here."

"The honor's mine, big sis'," Lloyd replied while trying his best not to shy away from how Scandal skimmed her fingers through his hair in an effort to straighten it. "How about you, codger? Ya holdin' up, all right?"

"Oh yeah, guv," Nigel Thornton said with a sniff, the plump mourner looking as if he had to restrain a blubber, a burp, or perhaps both. "Jus' thinkin' a bit too much about Mister Mao 's all. Never really took a likin' to sayin' goodbye, ya know."

"Too bloody well, old man," Lloyd replied, the younger Brit quickly choosing to take the risk and stoop down in order to properly embrace his former mentor. "An' how about you, Scandal? Trust the new job is keepin' you right busy, yeah?"

"Yeah," the leader of The Secret Six agreed, the immortal finding herself having to stifle a giggle as Nigel eagerly accepted the offer of sympathy. "Who would have thought that Old Man Mao would leave Tenryu Enterprises in the hands of a ne'er do well like me?"

"Well, if you don't want it then I think your own old man will be happy to take it off ya hands," Lloyd replied, his offer quickly drawing a derisive snort from his audience. It took a few moments more before he could rid himself of the too tight embrace that Nigel had wrapped him into and find it in him to keep on talking. "You'll do a great job, shrew. He wouldn't 'ave given it to you if he didn't already know that you couldn't handle it better than anyone else."

"I hope that's true," Scandal replied, the reluctance still quite clear in her tone.

"It is true," Lloyd insisted, his stern words drawing an accompanying nod from the proprietor of The Rusty Sambo. "Because I'm gonna make sure to do whatever it takes to watch my big sister's back and I'm not aimin' to waste any more of my time."

"Well, as loathe as I am to interrupt such heartwarming proceedings," interrupted Amanda Waller, the dark-skinned government agent looking quite dignified in a well-tailored, dark-purple button down blouse and matching pants, "I would like to return to Washington before tomorrow evening." The woman's entire countenance seemed to fly in the face of the quiet serenity around her but somehow also managed to mix in with the subtle browns and dark greens around and beneath her at the same time. "However, I suppose I could take some time out to attempt to understand how a man capable of transportation at several times the speed of light could possibly be late."

"It's a unique talent," Lloyd found himself forced to admit, the former mercenary quite pleased to see Nigel and Scandal walking in lock step with him as he continued moving forward. "However, with enough time spent under the distinguished tutelage of our mutual friend Mister Wallace West, I believe I can hone this skill into an art."

'The Wall' initially fired back with a somewhat annoyed frown. However, that slight response soon escalated into an out-and-out scowl as she took in the partially amused smirk cast by the man to her left. "Now, if the three of you wouldn't mind," Waller snapped, the stern woman almost marveling at how someone as respect-worthy as Bruce Wayne could possibly be the least bit charmed by such inanity, "I would like to at least attempt to properly honor a good man."

"Very well, Cabrini," Lloyd surrendered, his capitulation seemingly prompting his two apparently rebellious comrades into following suit. "The five remaining students of Mao Tenryu have all gathered here. Say what you will."

"Indeed I shall," Waller countered in her usual, resolute manner. She took a moment to breathe through her nose and calm herself before continuing, the White King of Checkmate appearing to make certain to do what she could to remain respectful in the face of everything there was to prevent her from doing so. Allowing a bit more time for the new arrival to gaze upon the modest headstone and read the words scraped upon it, the former prisoner of crime, poverty, and racism looked over the words she had assembled in her mind's eye, determined to give her liberator the admiration he deserved.

"Mao Tenryu was born in this city nearly 71 years ago with little evidence that he would make his presence felt in a part of the world so frequently looked upon by the eyes of history. He was a middle child in a large family who had long been enmeshed within the trappings of complacency, a world where little money and power were offered and the means to acquire more remained slight and altogether impossible to obtain. I have thought long and hard of what could convince a soul raised with such discipline and humility to stake such a firm claim upon the world and now I must confess that I still cannot provide a proper answer. In fact, the only thing I can hope to do now is to respect the strength of a brave man who did what he could to pave his own destiny and honor the compassion of a good man who spent so much of his time and resources to teach others how to do the same."

Lloyd had all but let the words wash over him, his frustrations and hopes and sadness and pride all crashing into one another as his own memories began to play like an out-of-control film reel. He wanted to say something, anything, if only so he could address the man who had taken so much from him while giving him just as much, if not more so, in return.

Thankfully, Amanda Waller seemed to be able to pick up the slack.

"As much as he did to push the world forward, to help everyone he touched to see the value in respecting the will of others, Mao Tenryu always claimed that his greatest goal was to keep this planet, what he loved, the way it is. That is why we have chosen to lay him to rest here, this humble, nearly forgotten portion of the world nearly untouched by history and humanity. His body and soul will be allowed to rest, his own story finished and shut. However, his legacy will continue to march for him and the memories of him shall live on in the honest actions of those who were privileged enough to learn from him."

The fluttering of leaves managed to be the only discernible sound in the cemetery for a good, long while after that. Each participant in the hushed proceedings were momentarily busy within their own thoughts, pondering their own futures and the decisions that would come with them. Would they be able to learn from their mistakes or take pride in their successes? Would they be able to do better than anyone who had come before them or those who would follow them in return? They were all smart enough to recognize that such inquiries had been considered, time and time again, by others in moments such as these but that easy realization did nothing to stop them from briefly considering the familiar conundrums.

"Oi! Cabrini!" Nigel hissed with what he hoped to be a dignified whisper. "Don't suppose that Yank government of yours could pay for some green tea an' thenthuk, would it?"

Waller's weary sigh somehow managed to carry over the subdued giggling from Lloyd and Scandal as the pondering session disintegrated before her very eyes. "Well, given how much of Mao's money has gone into aiding Capitol Hill already, I suppose he wouldn't mind if we collected on a bit of his interest."

"Right then!" the spiky-haired marauder exclaimed while almost jogging away from the hallowed ground. "Let's get ourselves somethin' to eat while tradin' Mao stories like we should be doin'!"

"Sounds right to me," Lloyd agreed while marching away as well, albeit with a more dignified gate. Amanda Waller was soon to catch up with him, the two of them soon engaging in a polite conversation while paying little attention to the two that had hung back. The two stragglers, in turn, split time between watching their colleagues take their leave and gazing back at the final resting place of the man they would have to help replace.

"May I ask you something, Mister Wayne?"

Bruce turned to sweep his eyes over Scandal's anxious glare. "Go right ahead," he replied before beginning to move away from the modest mound of freshly shoveled dirt.

"Well," Scandal began, the longtime mercenary clearly nervous about how she was going to say what was on her mind. "I have to admit that I'm still not quite comfortable with all that's suddenly being asked of me. It's not that I doubt my intelligence or capacity to complete the job but. . . I've never really thought myself as someone to be placed into the world's spotlight. I've never asked myself to project the image of somebody like Mao while being someone else."

Bruce worked over the fractured explanation, the detective fairly clear about the meaning behind the words but still somewhat surprised that he would be the one that Scandal would choose to say them to. "You do realize that you're speaking to a man who spends a large percentage of his waking hours dressed up like a bat, right?"

"Yes, but I'm also speaking with Bruce Wayne," Scandal countered, the young power player apparently failing to see her colleague's attempt at humor. "How do you manage to be both, if only for a little while? How do you continue to pursue your true goals while putting so much time and energy into pretending to be something else?"

* * *

_Gotham – Mel's Café_

"So let me guess. You gave your little spiel about how it's not who you are underneath but what you do that defines you, right?"

The glare shot his way brought a smile to Jim Gordon's face, the police commissioner resisting the urge to display his self-satisfaction any further as he hefted his cup of coffee to his lips. The former detective took in the potentially hostile look in Batman's eyes as he sipped, a gaze that would have given even him pause under most circumstances but the addition of the commonplace environment around them disabled nearly all of the potential hostility behind it.

"And what's wrong with that?" Batman fired back with just a sliver of petulance.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with it," Gordon assured his longtime partner. "Maybe I was just thinking that a well-learned man like yourself would be able to come up with some new adages now that he's got some more time on his hands."

Bruce all but huffed back, the indirect insinuation that he was wasting his time chapping his thoughts a little more than usual. "I imagine that the both of us will be able to find new ways to occupy our time. The influx of metahuman criminals from Baltimore and Metropolis that haven't already been frightened away still needs attention and the lack of criminal activity along the Northtown Heights is going to require some investigation as well."

"Yes, indeed. Not to mention that I'm short-staffed thanks to all the work that needs to be done to spearhead the rebuilding efforts," Gordon added. "I'm guessing you've had plenty of time to peruse the final details? See what Wayne Enterprises can provide for the effort?"

"The official release is still being tailored up," Batman replied before taking a strong gulp of his own helping of strictly black coffee. The small effort, in turn, gave Gordon enough time to peruse his longtime friend, consider the case at hand, and move on with his real question.

"So why are we really here, Batman? I mean, even you have to admit that it's been a long time since you were the one to say that we should meet for a cup of coffee. In fact, the only reason I can think of as to why is that you've got something on your mind."

The Dark Knight of Gotham City let out a grumble as he lowered his cup back down to the old but sturdy table. "It's nothing, Jim. Just. . . something I'm still trying to figure out."

Jim let out a sigh of his own, his normally vast reservoir of patience reserved for the emotional rigidity of the man seated across from him beginning to run parched. "You know, it isn't wrong to just come out and say what you're thinking about. I mean, you and I both know how long of a road we've got to go down and there's always something that could change it but. . . Maybe you should let these kids know what they mean to you."

The police commissioner looked on as his friend slid his eyes downward to look at the unmoving, unchanging table, the flat lenses over the billionaire's eyes making him look like a wayward ghost. He could only guess everything that was rumbling about in The Batman's head, the knowledge that only so much could change within a certain period of time fresh in the thoughts of the veteran police officer.

"Maybe."

Jim tilted his head to one side, the longtime gumshoe momentarily satisfied with the response. He righted his neck before moving to slide up and off of his side of the booth, his wrinkled hands staying well away from his pockets or anywhere else that his billfold could be. "Good. Because if there's anything that might put the fear of God in those brats it's that they made The Batman think that he could be happy."

Batman didn't even bother to glare back, his disciplined mind choosing to focus on the fact that he had to pay the bill.

There had to be some kind of order in his life, after all.

* * *

Misfits Confidential

And there we have the conclusion of _Culp's War_, yet another pet project of mine that seemed cute at first but suddenly evolved into an enormous, monstrous, festering ball of words that occupied my time and robbed me of my sanity. Sort of like the literary equivalent of a Pokemon, I suppose. That being said, I hope I managed to sufficiently set the table for what's to come as well as tie up quite a few of the loose ends. I know I'm going to be diverting myself away from the main series for a while but it's still nice to make certain that everything is as tidy as it can be before I move on to other pursuits.

Once again, thanks to everyone who has read and offered feedback over the course of the last two-and-a-half years. I never would have thought that I'd be able to go somewhere and find a series of books that I wrote about something I love and a big reason that I can is because of all the kind and funny words that I have received in return. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

And, just so my dozens and dozens of loyal fans won't start thinking that I'm going to be abandoning them, how about a preview of what's to come?

* * *

Due March 27th, 2009

This wasn't the first time that Dick Grayson, Lloyd Thomas, and Stephanie Brown had managed to break a law or two while residing in Gotham City. To be fair though, just how much trouble can three people get into if they're armed with nothing but three shovels and a couple cases of beer? And just what is this about The Black Dog getting busy with a succubus in a Turkish harem? And who in their right mind would believe that Ottis Anderson was the best running back in Tecmo Super Bowl? Find out the answers to these and a great many other meaningless questions in two weeks time with the next addition to the Misfits series: _Drunken Grave Defiling_.

* * *

Issue #84 Preview

Six months have passed since the ending of _Culp's War_ and, well, things are just as insane as ever for the gang of fools and miscreants taking up space in the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. If you don't believe that, then maybe you can explain why Lloyd and Wally are naked and fighting 100-foot sandworms in a galaxy far, far away. Why have they been brought here? Who has been brought along for the ride? And can somebody get these two some pants? Tune in on October 2nd as _Seven Little Soldiers _begins with the next installment of _The Misfits_: The More Things Change. . . Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	84. The More Things Change

Issue #84

The More Things Change. . .

_Wayne Manor_

It didn't take much to convince Bruce Wayne that he had been forced to devour a surprisingly pungent slice of hell on this moon-dappled evening. Still, if what he had endured wasn't quite enough, the vacuous chatter flowing around him and occasionally crashing into his ears constantly provided reminders of the danger within his unwanted situation. His eyes brimming with determination as he began to look for a way out amidst the crowd of sycophants, thieves, and various other dregs of society, he couldn't help but take in the sheer quantity of wasted flesh, time, and words and it made him feel physically ill. He had devoted his life to ridding the world of individuals such as these, their continued, unimpeded presence serving as a constant, hated reminder of the ultimate fruitlessness of the vow he had made to the world after his parents had been taken from him nearly 35 years ago. He had gathered allies, students, and disciples who had nearly come to replace the gap in his heart and soul that had long remained ajar since that fateful night but not even their power and compassion could do nothing to save him from this.

"Oh, did you see Jon on _Larry King Live_? How he was going on and on about how I was treating him like a slave. Honestly, Bruce, I wish I could have dragged him off that soundstage and into the nearest dumpster where he belonged!"

The master of the elaborate mansion did his best to feign interest in his surroundings until another partygoer fielded the conversation that he had fumbled so eagerly. Blessing his lack of necessary involvement, the longtime detective and socialite spent a handful of desperate seconds wishing that the crystal flute of ginger ale perched loosely in his left hand was actually filled with champagne as he had so frequently liked to advertise. The self-loathing that came with resorting to mind-altering chemicals in order to overcome stress or strain would certainly be significant but nothing compared to the agony he was suffering while be forced to stand among fools desperately searching to maintain their fifteen minutes of fame. Batting such unnecessary thoughts aside, the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City reminded himself of the good cause that his time and his home was serving, how the money donated by these posh twits would help provide food, clothing, and housing for the good citizens of his city who couldn't have hoped to afford to come to a such a lavish occasion. Perhaps that good will would be enough to allow him to persevere against the fact that he was being all but forced to spend his time with a menagerie of empty-headed fools who wouldn't cross the street to spit on one of the people they had been asked to help.

"Well, you've had your share of messy breakups, Mister Wayne," the loathsome divorcee indicated. "But I have eight kids to raise! What am I expected to do?"

_Get spayed perhaps_.

"Well, I've always felt that the right vacation spot was always a good cure for what ails me," Bruce recommended with all the vapid foppishness he could muster, his free-spirited words earning him a rightful share of eye-rolls and derisive snorts. "In fact, I know of the loveliest little private resort that just opened up right outside Monterrey."

"Sounds delightful to me," purred a peroxide-blonde starlet who had moved quickly in her efforts to cling to Bruce's arm as if she were a drowning woman clutching a life preserver stuffed with hundred dollar bills. "And I don't suppose you have any advice on who I could bring along on a trip like that, could you?"

_How about your acting coach? Or maybe your plastic surgeon so you can thank them for a job well done._

"I'm afraid that I'll have to take a rain check on that arrangement, my dear," Bruce said in a lecherously jovial manner while using his agile fingers to charmingly swipe an errant lock of hair behind the woman's ear. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to some more of my guests, particularly the ones who can help me with my portfolio."

The host of the party somehow managed to reign in his snarl as his parting shot was met with a round of laughter that literally and figuratively crashed against his back. He was damn well aware that he had long met Alfred's demand to stay for the first half of the event and any desire to curry additional favor with the caretaker of the manor was quickly fading away with a vengeance. To his credit, however, he did manage to cobble together a fake smile as he weaved his way around a Scottish investment banker who had downed at least half a bottle of Merlot and wasn't hiding the damage of his efforts in the least, resisted the urge to hurl his glass of ginger ale at the stump speech performed by one of Gotham's more vociferous mayoral candidates, and even endured the ingratiating complaints of a profoundly fish-lipped woman that served on the Wayne Enterprises board of directors before he could finally made his way to the southern courtyard. Letting out a deep sigh as a somewhat chilly blast of early autumn wind ruffled his hair as well as his black tuxedo, the sense of freedom he earned from his efforts emboldened him to move forward to the nearest available passageway that would lead to his cherished catacombs that lay beneath the extravagant revelry going on strong behind him.

"Oh, dear," whispered some overly made-up dilettante whose name slipped even Bruce's mind. "Looks like the lord of the manor is off to some illegal tryst. Honestly, the sheer self-centeredness of that man!"

The trilling of his cellular phone was only slightly successful in staving off the sound of the growl rising from Bruce's throat, the menacing reverberations running in time with the shrill of his communication device as he nearly stomped his way further into the surrounding courtyard.

"What?" he barked out, already well aware of who was on the other end of the line.

His audience did not even bother to restrain his good humor. "Tell me, Bruce. Aren't you at all worried about the mice you've left loafing about in your halls?"

"Noah. . ." Bruce growled back.

"Because you do know what they say about what they are purported to do when the cat is away. Or perhaps you would be more comfortable with the metaphor if I replaced the cats with bats?"

"Switch to satellite communications," the aggravated party host rumbled before abruptly hanging up the phone, the handful of seconds he needed to stuff the irritating device back into the front pocket of his coat leaving his longtime friend more than enough time to access the satellite-powered comm. link that connected Bruce's haphazard team together. "Status update, Calculator."

To his credit, the computer extraordinaire known as The Calculator managed to subdue his laughter despite the limited amount of time offered to him. "Everything is just as nominal as you hoped it wouldn't be, my temperamental collaborator," Noah Kuttler replied with a note of posh cheerfulness that he knew would stick under his friend's craw. "Team One has completed their nightly patrol of the city with no undue complications or troublesome incidents to note while Team Two has successfully infiltrated the nest of Fyarl demons reported to us earlier in the evening. Both squads are expected to return to the manor within the hour."

"Good," Bruce said with surprising calmness, a sound sign that he was far enough away from the festivities to feel comfortable in his own skin once again. "Has the side door been made accessible?"

"The passage is waiting for your use," Noah answered smartly, the sound of his fingers swiftly dancing across the keyboards beneath them heard clearly through the connection. "I must warn you, I do not believe Gotham City currently requires a frustrated, middle-aged man flitting about in a batsuit this evening."

The man behind The Batman wisely withheld his reply as he knelt down to grab a hold of the green, metal handle neatly hidden away beneath the underbrush surrounding the massive oak tree on the southwest corner of the grounds. Swinging the door open, the slippery soles of his well-maintained dress shoes did nothing to impede his forward leap into the cavern below, the dry dust of the soil and rock that suddenly surrounded him rising up to settle against the hem of his dress pants as the entrance above swung shut. Decades of experience allowed his blue eyes to adjust quickly to the sudden lack of light and the hum of the reserve generators installed within the corner of the cave almost caused the moody fellow to break into a slight smile as he made his way further into his longtime base of operations.

"Any news on the Justice League's search for the new Doctor Polaris?" Bruce asked as he made his way into The Batcave proper, the fluttering of leathery wings sounding off from the catacomb's high ceilings signaling his arrival as much as the sound of his voice.

"Nothing you haven't already heard," Noah reported back, the hacker swerving his seat away from the trio of Cray supercomputers that had become his office to lock eyes with his boss and colleague. Though a recent week of lounging upon the beaches of Monterrey may have provided a somewhat subtle tan for the usually pale computer wizard, everything else about the man seemed unchanged. His six-foot-two, 160-pound frame still appeared to be quite comfortable with being held within a well-worn pair of tan slacks and a white, business shirt bought right off the clothing racks of a big-name convenience store despite the strident complaints of a certain butler who believed that his master's associates should be wearing something more appropriate. Unfortunately, the brown suspenders that capped off the sheer normalcy of the hacker's ensemble did not provide any points in that standing argument but the warm mug of coffee sitting to his right did say that neither gentleman had gotten to the point of refusing to fulfill their respective duties. "And is that your blatantly evident way of determining how Nightwing is doing?"

"If you want to believe that," Bruce replied, his eyes not even coming close to taking in the dubious look on Noah's face while his body made its way to a nearby file cabinet.

"Well, regardless of your intentions, the good Mister Grayson appears to be quite hale and hearty," Noah reported before turning back to his work. "Most unfortunately, the same can be said for that officious, underdressed trollop currently tromping about the East End," he added while plucking his spectacles off the bridge of his upturned nose. "Honestly, Bruce. Must you continue to pursue a relationship with that miserable, ill-begotten harpy?" he asked while putting his nearby handkerchief to its long-assigned use.

"Once again, I am not going to stop seeing Selina just because she knows how to get under your skin," Bruce answered with a slightly-suffering sigh. "And, honestly, if the two of you ever managed to stop bickering like two-year-olds deprived of your favorite blankets, the two of you might find that you have a great deal in common."

The _harrumph _Noah provided in response may have been discouraging but still didn't surprise Batman in the least. "I still say that she was the one responsible for the defiling of my reading quarters," he attached on with a petulant grumble. "What unmitigated gall it must take for a woman who can break into Cartier's after one look over of the security layout to claim that she can't control her vile cats from urinating on my Asimov first editions."

Bruce shook his head back and forth after plucking out the files he wished to look over, a quick flip through of the dossiers and case file details offering a good enough confirmation. "Grow up, Noah," he offered while making his way back towards his meditation chambers.

The Misfits' resident computer expert couldn't help but gape at his longtime friend despite the knowledge there was no way that Bruce would care. "Oh, well, pardon me for not being more like you. . . shambling off to your room after growing weary of your own party. Behavior like that isn't the least bit odd or anti-social" he mumbled while accessing the communication networks once again. "Please report in, Team Two."

* * *

_Lancaster, England – Aramark International Shipping Facility_

"I'm sorry, mate. I just. . . I just don't see it!"

"AW COME ON! You saw the same movie I did, man! Tell me you didn't sport at least a little bit of wood when you saw her leaning over that motorcycle!"

Lloyd Thomas let out a weary groan as he slowly pushed his left foot forward, his Doc Marten-clad foot brushing aside one of the still flickering candles that bordered the blood-drawn pentagram that he and his comrade happened to be standing in. "An' just how do you detail a chopper when you're draped over the seat like a soddin' hood ornament with your tits all bunched up on the handlebars?"

"Don't try and dodge this issue!" Roy Harper yelled back with a distinct note of warning, the former Teen Titan and Outsider now more commonly known as Arsenal also putting his own boot-clad feet to work by sliding across the tracks of blood and putting even more mild dents into the recently aborted demonic invasion. "Megan Fox is hot as hell and that's that!"

"No, she is not," Lloyd fired back just as ardently. "A chit whose every picture makes her look like she doesn't know how to shut her mouth properly is not attractive." The Misfits' second-in-command and field leader of the current mission impatiently rolled his eyes as Roy responded to his sage words by throwing up his hands in defiance. "An' I'm not talking about the way she's always runnin' her mouth which is another point for another time but. . . I mean, she's always lookin' like. . ." the former employee of Mao Tenryu pried his lips slightly open before curling them outward in a manner that didn't make him look the least bit appealing. ". . . like a 16-year-old chit who snuck her way into the bar and thinks she gets hotter the more alcohol she's got in her system. Always with her tongue just pokin' out and her lips all overly made up."

"Okay, okay. So the attitude could be better," the red-headed sharpshooter admitted before taking a moment to duck under the unconscious body of a demon as it hurtled by him. "But her body! I mean, damn. . ."

"She just looks _greasy_," Lloyd offered in defiance, the syllables of the last word spoken distinctly and with a great deal of disdain. "I mean, I can't be the only one who sees that! Bloody hell, she looks like she's always just got out of the tanning bed and decided to roll around in castor oil!"

"Dude! If she's that greasy on the outside then think about how she is inside!" Roy took a moment to take in the utterly flabbergasted look on his friend's face before continuing on. "Well, I'm sorry but we don't all have a blonde-haired alien with long legs and bony hips to keep us company."

Lloyd managed to work up quite the snarl as the buzzing of his communicator attracted his attention. "Her hips aren't bony, they're well-structured. Come in, C.C.!"

"Shouldn't the both of you be paying more attention to your assignment," Noah Kuttler noted in a somewhat critical manner. "After all, you have been called to prevent a full-scale infestation of Fyarl demons and I've read that breed of beast rarely responds kindly to those who would get in the way of their intentions."

"Oh, ease your garters, Brain Guy," Lloyd replied in the midst of Arsenal's chuckling. "I've already cut off the summoning incantation and Harper and I are hard at work here making certain that the site can't be used for any more nefarious deeds," the half-demon emphasized that point by strolling over to kick over another small candle, the slight flame at the wick dying out as the wind took its toll.

"And I'm not getting anywhere near what's going on over there," Roy threw in while using his boots to continue his quest to smudge up the foul sigil around his feet.

The sound of a deafening crash put a stop to Roy's desire to say anything more and convinced him to find the source of the disturbance. To his complete lack of surprise, the noise came from the scarlet-garbed foundation of much of the surrounding property damage, specifically thanks to a headscissors takedown of the last demon standing that allowed the faster of the two combatants to pin his larger opponent down to the wooden floor with all of his weight on the demon's chest. Hastily taking the creature's massive right wrist and wrapping both of his hands around it, Roy's longtime friend and compatriot sported a surprisingly malicious smile as he beat and bloodied the beast with its own knuckles and talons.

"Why ya hittin' yourself? Why ya hittin' yourself? Why ya hittin' yourself?" Wally West continued to ask his aggrieved foe through tightly clenched teeth, his queries only broken up by the continuous series of successful attempts to slam the Fyarl's fist into its own face.

"That boy's got issues," The Black Dog couldn't help but declare as Roy shook his head back and forth in dismay. "And I'm guessin' this little spat has a little bit more to it than Jai pukin' up on his favorite sweater at breakfast."

"I'd say that's a good guess," Arsenal agreed while crossing his brawny arms across his chest. "Still. . . you know Wall Eye. He'll start talkin' our ears off when he's good and ready to do it. Until then, we're just going to have to make certain that he stays somewhat sane while we stay amongst the living."

"I can be convinced to try that plan out," Lloyd answered while summoning a spiral beam of golden energy he soon sent plunging through the heart of one of their retreating foes. "That reminds me, are we gonna go pick up the peanut after this?"

"If you wouldn't mind," came the matter-of-fact reply. "In fact, you could really do me a solid if you took us to Piccadilly Square after that so we can pick up some breakfast over at that little shop. Y'know, the one across from Hippodrome?"

"Oh, absobloodylutely," the Brit said readily. "Kara's become a real aficionada for those little handmade sausage rolls, y'know? The ones with the wheat batter that just feel like they're cracklin' in your mouth if you eat 'em while they're still hot."

"Oh, those are good."

"I'll take a cup of Earl Grey if you wouldn't mind," The Calculator broke in. "I don't wish to be too much of a bother but Alfred always beleaguers me whenever I ask him to brew a fresh pot this late in the evening."

"Will do, Answer Man," Roy answered back through his own link to the communications network. "How are the ladies doing, by the way?"

"Well, feel free to find out for yourself," Noah said with equal amiability, a quick series of taps on the keyboard allowing him to patch his two fellow Misfits in to what their fairer colleagues just happened to be doing.

"There is just a perverse lack of manliness among today's male action heroes," Lloyd and Roy heard Cecilia King-Jones say.

"Oh, definitely," Stephanie Brown concurred, the fair-haired Green Lantern sounding somewhat detached and fatigued after a night spent patrolling the streets of Gotham. "I mean, we're expected to believe that Shia LaBeouf is supposed to be able to kick somebody's ass? A stiff wind could knock that guy over!"

"Especially if that stiff wind smelled of whisky," Cecilia added before joining Stephanie in a round of chuckling. "And, while we're at it, let us please not forget the train wreck that is Christian Bale!"

"OH. . . MY. . . GOD!! Can you believe they wanted him to star in the new Owlman movie they got coming out?" Stephanie spat back, her usual joie d'haine quickly brought back to life by her own outrage. "Who the hell would want to see him all growly and fake broody and 'Ooh, woe is me. Life as an actor is sooooo horrible. Why can't anybody understand me?'"

"Ooh, now pay me 10 million dollars so I can mope on camera," Cecilia added with an equally overdramatic voice before joining her colleague in letting loose a joint raspberry that both Lloyd and Roy were thankful not to see.

"Calculator. . ." Kara said quietly and cautiously, the leader of Team One sounding as if she was trying best to remain patient. "I've had to put up with this for eight hours. Can I please go home now?"

"Ya got my vote," Lloyd threw in from his end of the line, his quick response earning him the sound of relieved laughter.

"Hey, sweetie," Kara replied. "I'll see you when you get home, okay? Hope everything went well!"

"Will do, luv," Lloyd eagerly replied while shutting down his communicator, the smile on his face continuing to widen despite his attempts to restrain it.

"Oh, I'll see you when you get home, my little sex cookie," Roy parroted with a high, breathy voice. "Then me get up on you and love you long time."

"Oi! OI! GEROFF ME, YA GIT!" Lloyd barked out as he attempted to ward off Roy's surprisingly enthusiastic attempts to hump his right leg. "'Bout as barmy as The Flash's got, you are." The telepath finally managed to disentangle himself from his bizarre friend in just enough time to catch a profoundly disturbed look on the face of Wally West as The Flash rose back to his feet, the former Justice Leaguer's colorful battle attire now thoroughly stained with greenish-black blood.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" asked The Fastest Man Alive.

"Nothing," Lloyd and Roy quickly replied.

* * *

_Devon - Saizeru Monastery Room #32B_

This was hardly the first time that Agnes Brown had realized she was a long way from home. Of course, given her past history of various failures and missteps that largely made up her 25-year tenure as a citizen of Gotham City, the former drug addict and current licensed nurse didn't find it difficult at all to recognize that the displacement could be a good thing. That intriguing point was further hammered home as she greeted the dozen or so children making their way into the room that had been assigned to her by her supervisor, their young faces somewhat subdued due to an early wake-up call but still remaining bright, cheery, and fairly ready for what the world had in store for them. She couldn't help but feel her heart lighten with every kindly wave and gentle smile, the knowledge that she could play a positive role in the lives of others bequeathing her with a high that no pharmaceutical product could have come close to providing.

_I finally have a place where I can belong, _she couldn't help but tell herself. _A place where I can feel like I'm doing something good._

"Hi, Missus Brown," greeted an apple-cheeked boy, the sight of his wild, black hair and the sound of his sharp, British accent snapping the woman out of her reveries. "See what I got you?"

The mother of Stephanie Brown couldn't help but let out a chuckle as the child presented her with a shiny apple, the edible offering doubtlessly fetched from one of the many trees in the orchard that made up a good portion of the southeastern grounds. "Oh, well, thank you very much, Jonathon," she said while plucking the fruit from the boy's hand with a bright smile, the enthusiasm in her voice bringing an even broader grin to the lad rushed for his desk. The monastery's assistant nurse and early morning watcher took a moment to place her reward at the forefront of her desk, the time she needed to complete her task allowing another student to take the previous child's place and wait for her attention. "And do you have something for me too, Knock'tlarr?"

Knock'tlarr, a baby Loxondutus demon who had just celebrated his ninth birthday, replied with an excited nod, his short, gray trunk letting out a dribble of green snot as he lifted his stubby paws upward in order to lay his prize on Agnes's desk. It appeared to be little more than a large ball of yellowish dirt but the combination of her lack of knowledge about the school's newest transfer student and the nervous excitement in the child's enormous eyes convinced her to rein in her instinctual reaction to the latest offering.

"You are such a sweetheart," she said honestly while stretching forward to brush her head against Knock'tlarr's hairless scalp.

"SCHNLORK!" Knock'tlarr burbled happily before rushing over to his own seat, the studious little learner quick to open up his arithmetic textbook in order to review his homework from the day before. Placing the unknown sphere next to the shiny apple, Agnes made a note to remind her boss of the need for a universal translator enchantment to be placed on her new room. After all, it didn't make any sense for her to try and understand eight different languages without the aid of a little hocus-pocus.

On the other hand, she hardly needed any foreign form of interpretation to understand what her next series of guests was looking for, the sight of a trio of familiar figures, each of them far too large to be considered a child, bringing a quick smile to her face.

"Why hello there, Mama Robin," said the lead gentleman, the somewhat charming fellow running his long fingers through the thick stubble beneath his chin. "I heard you've got a little troublemaker that needs tending to."

"DADDY!" shrilled Lian Harper as she quickly abandoned her desk and the books on them in order to rush her way to the front of the class, the 10-year-old seemingly not a bit afraid to avoid embarrassment or physical harm as she leaped into the arms of her father. Of course, it was not as if Roy was about to complain about the burden about plucking the young lady's 70-pound frame out of the air with only a hint of a stumble, the loving guardian soon peppering his daughter's coffee-colored face with kisses. "Blech! Scruffy kisses!" the girl pretended to gripe while nuzzling her nose into her father's cheek.

"Well, don't I feel like a round of rotten chopped liver then," Lloyd whined while twisting his small lips into a bit of a pout. "An' here I thought the peanut would be happy to see me. . ."

Ever happy to uplift a disappointed crowd, Lian used her father's arms as her ballast to leap into The Black Dog's open arms. "Hi, Uncle Lloyd," Lian said in greeting as Lloyd secured her with no trouble at all, the raven-haired troublemaker quickly rewarding the Brit with a kiss on the cheek before turning her attention to yet another o f her adopted family members. "You're messy, Uncle Wally."

'Uncle Wally' cinched his teeth while drawing in his breath. "Yeah, I still got a bit of battle damage here," The Flash confessed while making another failed attempt to wipe the Fyarl blood off of the lightning bolt insignia etched over his heart. "Something tells me it'd be wise to save my hug for later, little lady. Of course, this isn't going to stop me from being happy to see my personal favorite babysitter again."

"What about Aunt Stephanie?" Lian asked curiously as a slight use of Lloyd's telepathy brought her back into her father's arms.

"I meant _sane _babysitters," Wally made clear while lightly bopping Lian's nose with his right knuckle, his words and his actions working together to bring a bright smile to the girl's face.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Brown," Lloyd said politely and with a quick dip of his head. "We don't mean to interrupt but. . ."

"Oh, it's quite all right, Lloyd," Agnes interjected quickly. "I was expecting the three of you, after all. However, if you're in the mood for repaying me then maybe you can convince my daughter to drop by a little more frequently."

"Will do, ma'am," the raven-haired man replied with a gentle smile. "Always enjoy a good test on my sanity." The combination of Agnes's light laughter and the flickering of shyness that often came upon him during slightly uncomfortable conversations was just enough to distract Lloyd from hearing the rushed footsteps of another new arrival.

"Nightwing? Is that you?" asked another familiar voice, The Black Dog's small handful of positive childhood memories beckoning him to turn and greet Doctor Naomi Mitchell as she nearly ran into the room, the pale skin of the 34-year-old Oxford Medical School graduate nearly glowing with prospective anticipation. However, that expectation soon gave way to a decidedly different, somewhat more subdued form of excitement as she identified just who had arrived at her longtime workplace. "Oh. Hello, Lloyd. It's wonderful to see you," she whispered honestly as she crossed the room quickly in order to wrap Lloyd in a firm, caring embrace.

"Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too, Naomi," Lloyd said slowly while hesitantly returning the embrace. "But. . . but wot made ya think we were Nightwing?"

"Oh. . ." Naomi mumbled, the usually calm woman already began to hem and hedge. "Well, it's just that, I heard that Lian was going to be leaving early this weekend and. . . and Richard often joins Roy in picking her up and. . ."

"Richard?" Roy and Wally said in unison, the unexpected usage of Nightwing's birth name by the former member of Project Cadmus prompting the two redheads to look at one another with a shared bout of confusion. Naturally, that perplexity soon gave way to a sense of morbid enjoyment as the former Teen Titans began to cobble together the wonderful possibilities that could be had with the awkwardness that loomed around them.

Lloyd, on the other hand, was similarly performing his own detective work. And, while he would be the first to admit that he was not nearly as skilled in the field of deduction as Bruce Wayne or the previously mentioned Richard Grayson, he did know enough to recognize that there were only a scant number of things that could have perpetuated for Naomi knowing the man underneath Nightwing's domino mask, much less to respond to his friend with such unrestrained enthusiasm. Interestingly enough, he perused that short list of possibilities while the faces of Dick's past "conquests" seemingly ran through his mind like a film reel: Barbara Gordon, K'ory Anders, Helena Bertinelli, Betty Kane, and a doubtless litany of socialites and female vigilantes whom he was certain were perfectly fine, charming people so long as they were not grouped together with the closest thing he had ever had to a mother.

"I. . . I should probably be going now. . ." Naomi said in apology, the cultured tone of her British accent doing nothing to hide the message being broadcasted by the crimson blush that dominated her cheeks. In fact, it was hard to find any form of dignity in the awkward stumble that the good doctor chose to leave the room, the behavior far more fitting for a lovesick teenager than a woman who had finished at the top of her class in every school she had ever attended.

"Uncle Dick's in trouble now, huh?" asked Lian.

"Ohhhhhh, yeah," Roy replied, the expert marksman mustering every ounce of his will power to resist the urge to laugh like The Joker hooked up to a gallon of nitrous oxide. "A very fun kind of trouble, though."

Lloyd Thomas remained silent and steaming while visions of dead Nightwings danced in his head.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – 2__nd__ Floor _

"I just don't understand what she could be thinking," Lloyd said once again, the frustration that had been brewing for the last several hours persuading him to throw his arms up in disbelief. "She should know better than to settle up with somebody like 'im!"

"Settle up with somebody like him? Lloyd, you don't know how long they've been going out together! And, you know, I could have sworn that you and Richard were friends! Are you telling me that this one little thing is going to change all of that?"

"One little thing?!" Lloyd parroted back while sporting his discontent all over his face. "Even that snobby, little two-timing toe rag should 'ave known better than this. I mean, I've heard about his history with the opposite sex from Roy and Wally and. . . and I don't want Naomi to come down with anything bad."

Lloyd's surprisingly tolerant audience regarded the callous accusation by raising their eyebrows and clicking back a breath of irritation. "Well, I wouldn't be so quick to trust the word of two major-league gossip queens like Roy Harper and Wallace West, particularly when it comes to Roy talking about other peoples' sexual histories."

The Black Dog responded to those potent words of advice by quirking his lips to one side, his thoughts still not so far gone to avoid seeing the logic in that retort. "Well, well, what about the age difference? She's 34 and Dick's, wot, 28? That's almost ten years right there an' that's not right! I mean, they both work with kids an' how are they supposed to take that?" Lloyd shook his head back and forth, his thoughts so rooted upon the wrongness of it all that he failed to see his audience roll their eyes. "Damn it, Bruce should have taught 'im better than that!"

"I'm pretty certain that six is closer to five than to ten, Lloyd Boy," Lloyd's compatriot pointed out with a note of sympathy. "Oh, and since I'm busy poking holes in your argument, allow me to point out two more things while I'm at it. One, you're dating a woman who should be in her late forties by now while sharing souls with a demon that's been around for a couple hundred thousand years so maybe you shouldn't be throwing stones when it comes to age-based relationships. Secondly, you're pretty damn lucky that you're good about listening to _my _problems 'cause this whole argument is making me feel very unwanted."

Kara Zor-el took in the unadorned guilt and shame that swept over Lloyd's face as he weathered her accusations, the honest, childlike display causing her to let out a laugh before pressing her lips down onto the tip of her boyfriend's nose. That action, in turn, caused a slight but genuine smile to creep upon Lloyd's face as he drew her in closer, a hint of a tingle stemming from her gut as her bare breasts pressed against his firm chest. A series of quick kisses along her neck and shoulder blade followed, the feeling of his warm lips on her skin prompting her to let out a gruff moan before pulling away and lifting her upper body forward, any shyness that could have come with lying naked and unguarded on top of the man she loved having long dissipated.

"Sorry, luv," Lloyd finally said with a hoarse grumble, his breathing deep and content while the toes of his right foot grazed against Kara's left ankle.

"Ah, it's okay," Kara replied with a wry smile as she lifted her slim, powerful arms up over her head before stooping down to fold them across Lloyd's shoulders. "At least you were attentive when you needed to be. And you _know _I like it when your voice gets all husky after I have my way with you."

"Well, you bring out the best in me," Lloyd countered with a sardonic smirk of his own, his fingers now sneaking around to rest against his lover's lower back. "Still, I'm not very certain how your Boy Scout of a cousin would feel about using language like that."

Kara raised her eyebrows at the accusation, the pale moonlight shining through the wispy curtains allowing Lloyd to see the mischief laced within her crystalline blue eyes. "Sweetie, we were pussyfooting around for two years, pun somewhat intended. Is it suddenly wrong for us to make up for lost time?"

"Decidedly not," the raven-haired subordinate of The Batman provided in agreement while moving his left hand downward to brush across Kara's abdomen, his fingers slowly sliding up her stomach, across the breast bone, and back to her chin while his lips simultaneously went to their duties of planting kisses across her right ear and jaw line.

"Okay," Kara finally relented while suppressing the urge to groan. "You've regained all your good boyfriend points. Go ahead and ask."

"All right," Lloyd began after quickly pulling away, the urgency of his movements causing Kara to fully topple down on top of him in a barely subdued paroxysm of laughter. "Oi! This is serious, pet!" he protested while running his fingers through Kara's long, blonde hair. "Who else knew about this before I did?"

Kara tilted her lips to one side as she thought it over. "Well, there's Bruce of course. Me, Noah, Hal. . ."

"Oh, bugger! Jordan knew?" Lloyd asked in mild disbelief.

"Well, he and Dick hang out all the time now," Kara offered as a means of contrition. "Then there's Linda and. . . Miss Lance I think and, um, that's it."

"So. . . no Stephanie?"

"Oh, God, no!" Kara spat back. "For Rao's sake, sweetie, I'm not going to trust her with a secret like that! Hell, I'm still regretting telling her about us!"

Lloyd momentarily felt the need to protest but the quick work of logic led him to merely bob his head up and down in agreement. "Sorry for draggin' my issues up in front of you. Not exactly the act of a proper gentleman there."

"Ugh," Kara quickly grunted back with an amused note of disapproval. "You Brits and your knack for emotional flagellation. You know, did you ever consider the possibility that the reason you're upset about this is because Dick and Naomi are finding happiness with someone other than yourself?"

Lloyd raised his eyebrows, the telepath reasonably confident about what Kara was implying but still willing to play the fool. "Don't really feel that way about Naomi, luv. An' Grayson is hardly my type either."

"Silly ass," Kara fired back while thumping Lloyd's chest with the palm of her left hand. "The point is that Bruce is seeing Selina, Stephanie's getting involved with somebody new, Dick's dating Naomi. . . that just leaves a whole bunch of things that aren't in front of you at all times. You can't make sure they're okay."

The Black Dog couldn't help but frown in response to the possibility provided by his lover's observations. "Bugger. Makes me sound like a real control freak, dunnit?"

Kara gamely shook her head back and forth. "I think that's a pretty negative way of putting it. You just want to make certain that the people you care about don't get hurt. It's. . . cute. . . in a mildly troubling and partially psychotic way." The Last Daughter of Krypton wanted to say more on the subject but the sound of a quick snarl and the feeling of quick and skillful fingers brushing at a spot underneath her ribcage made her yelp and laugh until she fell off of Lloyd's prone body. However, the awkward angle didn't keep her from snaking her hands behind her lover's head, her long fingers quickly tangling themselves within Lloyd's short, black hair. "Lloyd David Thomas, when are you going to learn that even you can't control everything around you?"

"Don't rightly know," Lloyd said softly, his body remaining absolutely still under Kara's ministrations. "Maybe I can just settle for keeping you here."

Kara considered the many possibilities rooted in those words and provided a sly smile, a gesture born from the strength that the man in her arms had given to her and now she hoped to share. "Well, in life there are no guarantees," she reminded her lover once again, her lips then finding purchase on the center of Lloyd's chin. "But I kind of like it here," she confessed as she laid her head down on her lover's chest, her right ear placed directly over Lloyd's heart.

"Me too," Lloyd replied before kissing the top of Kara's head, the fatigue of a long day's work and play making him easy prey for the comfort of sleep.

* * *

Five hours after he had shut his eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around the woman he loved, Lloyd Thomas awakened to discover that he had no idea where he was. He tried his best to allay his disappointment by blinking his eyes at a rapid pace, perhaps hoping that the scenery would change with each closing and reopening of his hazel eyes. Accomplishing nothing with that lazy endeavor, he formed his left thumb and ring finger into a pincer grip and pinched his cheek as hard as he could but the barren and bizarre landscape still remained in front of his eyes unchanged and unknown to his senses.

And then, of course, he noticed he wasn't wearing any clothes.

"Bloody, buggerin' hell," The Black Dog murmured as a gust of icy wind instinctually made him bring his legs together in a subconscious gesture to protect a much more sensitive part of his otherwise sturdy frame. "How come the people who want me to go on these little jaunts of theirs never bother to just stop and ask me?"

Quickly deciding that he should be doing something a bit more substantial than complaining, the half-demon went to work learning more about just where he had been shunted off to. A quick check of the comm. link yielded no response, a good indication that he was now a long ways from both Earth in general and Gotham in particular. A telepathic sweep provided similar results along with the added bonus of knowing that, wherever he was, it wasn't exactly teeming with brainwave activity or the social organisms that tended to come with it. Resorting to his more natural senses, the sight of gray, basaltic plains digging small variances within the otherwise level surface that stretched out for miles around him hinted at the possibility that he was on the Earth's moon but the position and coloring of the sun was all wrong, the red giant star illuminating the lunar surface with its purple light much too large and far away to be confused with the sun that lighted The Milky Way. Finally, a quick series of inhales and exhales yielded nothing amiss about the atmosphere in terms of survivability and the temperature was only just a bit colder than a standard winter day in Gotham.

"Then again, I don't usually wander around 14th Street in my birthday suit," Lloyd couldn't help but say to himself while stretching his left hand back to scratch at an itch just below his trapezius. "And wot's with always having breathable air on whatever alien world we get tossed onto? Did our galaxy just get shafted when we only got one place with a somewhat tolerable at. . .mos. . .phere."

His external monologue was quickly cut short by a familiar eldritch signature nearly a hundred yards to the west. Making his way towards it with a quick burst of speed, he quickly discovered his sword, the _Mugalshir_, slightly buried into the base of a large, lunar mountain, the shine of the silver blade setting it sharply apart from the dim grays and browns around it.

"Oh, this isn't the least bit odd or suspicious," Lloyd noted while pulling the saber free from its fragile prison, a quick twirl of the hilt revealing that nothing appeared to be wrong with the weapon Mao had given to him for his 13th birthday. Feeling a hint of comfort from the connection he had formed with the supernatural energy stored within the potent weapon, he resisted the temptation to start humming a single tune from Final Fantasy VI as he let out a long sigh. Then, after a brief sweep of the area around him, he placed the sword flat on the ground before sitting down on the surface of the unknown moon, his small hands placed just inches over the blade in order to expand and strengthen the fulcrum of his extrasensory abilities.

"Well, when in doubt and having befriended a group of superheroes with significant problems with patience," he then said simply, "your best bet is to sit still, close your eyes, and wait for something to happen."

So he did just that, the only sounds drifting through his ears for the next several minutes being the occasional squall and the patient exhalations brought together by his brain and lungs. His body relaxed more and more with each passing moment of increasing clarity, his attempts to feel everything around him allowing for peace amidst the understandable confusion. It was an old trick that Nigel had spent a great deal of time teaching to him, to sink into the very land itself to find out more about what was there, to attempt to discover the memories of something that had been around a great deal longer than he ever had and would likely carry on well after he was gone.

And then he felt it. A rush of energy he had grown so familiar with over the course of the last eight months that he was almost ashamed that he hadn't seen it before. Opening his eyes to confirm it, he noticed the unnatural formation of a new scratch across the rocky landscape, about six feet deep but far too straight and even to be caused by volcanic activity or any meteorological phenomenon. As the source of the damage came to a stop just a handful of feet in front of his body, he couldn't help but notice that the usual streak of crimson was noticeably absent and it didn't take much effort to figure out why.

"Any idea where we are, boss?" Wally West asked just after skidding to a stop, the fellow Misfit and vigilante also surprisingly calm given the unknown circumstances at hand.

"Not a clue," Lloyd replied before closing his eyes once again.

"Crap," The Flash bit back. "And did you know you're naked?"

The Black Dog briefly opened his right eye in a mild note of irritation. "I wouldn't be talking too much there, Fastest Streaker Alive," he replied sourly before clamping both his eyes shut once again. "You know, this shit never happened to me when I was getting paid for doing this."

"Yeah, me neither before I joined The Justice League," Wally said in agreement, his frustration that his decreased reliance of The Speed Force consequently left him without the ability to summon his uniform somewhat relieved by the discovery that he wasn't the only person he knew who just happened to be tromping around naked. "Damn it, I was supposed to go with Linda to that art exhibit at the plaza this morning! It was the first time we'd have some time to ourselves in about a week!"

"My sympathies, mate," Lloyd answered with a mixture of honesty and sarcasm. "Still, on the bright side, I'm sure Steph'll be pleased as punch to learn that you are, in fact, a natural redhead."

"DUDE!" Wally screeched back while employing his unparalleled speed to bring his hands to cover his twig and berries. "What the hell is wrong with you, ya perv!"

"I WAS LOOKING AT YOUR CHEST HAIR, YA NIT!" Lloyd screamed back as the ground began to rumble and shake beneath him. "Oh, would you just take my sword and go do some damage?"

"Fine by me," The Flash replied before catching the saber thrown his way by Lloyd's telepathy, the speedster reacting just as quickly as his comrade to the trio of enormous worm-like creatures springing from the hard rock below them. Taking a half of a second to glimpse at the caustic, mauve-colored bile spewing from the massive fangs of the 30-foot beasts around him, he quickly analyzed the wells of kinetic energy springing around him to check and see if there were any more surprises waiting for him. Finding none, he broke into a sharp right turn that quickly brought him back within striking range of one of the massive beasts, the creature's scaly, gray and emerald hide not nearly enough to protect it from a series of quick lashes of a gleaming, silver saber. Spending another third of a second to stop and admire his grisly work, he avoided the black spurts of blood that flowed from the creature's massive gut by hypervibrating his molecules before hustling away from the plummeting path of the unknown beast, a massive tremor shaking the ground around him as 25 tons of dead weight listlessly plummeted to the ground. Of course, it would take a far larger distraction than that to stop him from running, particularly at a time like this, and he proved that by quickly rushing towards his second victim, a flurry of sword strikes soon reducing another hungry beast into nothing more than a massive corpse.

"Guess the local wildlife is used to playing with more vulnerable prey," Wally noted after a third shuddering of the ground began to die down, the final sandworm a pained victim of a blast of energy fired from Lloyd's left palm. "You got any clues on where we should go now?"

"A bit of one," Lloyd replied while doing what he could to make certain that their unexpected opponents wouldn't be rising up again. "I'm sensing some kind of eldritch pulse a good distance away. Could be the magical equivalent of a homing signal but I'll have to get closer to find out." He paused as his eyes cinched up in mild irritation upon noticing the plumes of smoke still rising from his rapidly cooling hands. "You want me to carry ya or are you comfortable with following me?"

Wally smiled back as he tossed the Mugalshir back to its rightful owner. "Just don't go too slowly," he replied gamely, the elder of the two warriors quickly falling behind Lloyd as they made their way south southwest. _"On the bright side," _he added through their telepathic link, _"I don't think that this could get much worse."_

* * *

"Shit!" Dick Grayson squawked before pushing his body through a double forward somersault in a desperate attempt to avoid being eaten.

"SHIT!" he said again as his dash forward was cut off by the rise of another sandworm breaking up from the gray rock below, the tremor set off by the impact forcing him to stumble forward and waste seconds he clearly didn't have.

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" Nightwing loudly protested before letting loose a flurry of explosive Batarangs that briefly repelled the new arrival's attempt to devour him whole, the unknown creature letting out a pained wail as its equally large friend continued to circle around to get another go at him. Buying himself a few more seconds by scaling the center of the second worm's abdomen, his leap into the air that followed allowed him to be rescued once again by his unexpected comrade, the price of what he had to do to ensure his survival quickly ratcheting to a rate that he wasn't quite comfortable with paying.

"So how many times have I saved your bacon now?" asked Stephanie Brown as she continued to soar through the air, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns and the fourth person to don the mantle of Robin sounding far too cheerful in Nightwing's ears. "Five? Six? 'Cause we both know that you're just enough of an over controlling asshole to be keeping track of these things."

"Why didn't you come installed with a mute button?" Nightwing asked while shaking his head back and forth in dismay, the movement looking quite bizarre given the fact that he was being carried 60 feet in the air, upside down, while enormous caterpillars from hell attempted to stretch upward in order to devour his unhealthily tender flesh.

"Ohhhhh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Nightthing!" Robin exclaimed with far greater enthusiasm. "We're fighting giant _WURMS!_ Worms spelled with a u and we both know the best way to get rid of those."

Even the white lenses installed in the domino mask wrapped around Nightwing's eyes could not hide his dismay. "Oh, Steph. No!"

"Oh, yeah! I must prepare the Holy Hand Grenade!" Stephanie said joyously as she used her Oan power ring to fashion a spectral launcher cannon that wrapped around her left hand. "And Saint Attila raised the Holy Hand Grenade up on high saying, 'Oh Lord, Bless us this Holy Hand Grenade, and with it smash our enemies to tiny bits.' And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs, and stoats, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and lima bean. . ."

"Just kill the damn worms already!" Nightwing growled back in a Batman-like fashion as another recently arrived sandworm came dangerously close to making an appetizer of his right leg. In response to the desperate plea, Stephanie let loose a positively mad cackle as she sent a green sphere of energy to rest among the three monsters. Mildly upset by the fact that she lacked the skills to create a Hallelujah chorus with the limited reality-shaping powers of her ring, she had to settle for watching the enormous explosion that followed and the ensuing rain of body chunks that weren't incinerated by the expansive energy bolt. "Now get us to that energy beacon you were talking about!" Dick quickly ordered, determined not to be delayed any further.

"Awwwwww," Stephanie whined while subjecting the gentleman she had replaced with a juvenile frown, the sight of even more sandworms rising from the ground filling her with childlike glee. "But I wanted to try the exploding sheep next!"

"Move, sprout!" Nightwing roared back, the dropping of the girl's favorite nickname a blatant move to appeal to Stephanie's occasionally misplaced common sense. He briefly said a prayer to whatever deities that happened to be watching over this galaxy as Robin finally did as she was told, the two of them moving forward in a streak of green as they soon came upon a surprisingly familiar sight.

"You know where we're going now?" asked Robin, the Green Lantern quickly noting the relieved sigh that emerged from Nightwing's lips, her pale, blue eyes still locked on the enormous collection of brown rock that hovered over the moon's surface. "'Cause I don't remember that big, brown hunk of floating mountain being there the first couple of times I circled this planet."

"That's not a mountain, that's a moon," Nightwing said with a smile. "Or at least part of one. Take us straight for the beacon, sprout."

"Will do, Nightthing," Robin replied with a bit more spring in her voice as she moved forward, her speedy travels soon taking them into a massive citadel at the center of the satellite. Following the energy signatures now being strongly broadcast by her ring, her smile grew just as bright as Nightwing's as she lowered herself down onto the flattened rock-and-metal citadel, the sight of familiar figures bringing back her happiness to full bore.

"Hey! It's Lloyd and Wally! And they're naked!" she observed as the current and former Robin descended to the ground, the mildly annoyed looks of her fellow Misfits just egging her on. "Geez, Puppy, how did you manage to have such thick legs but absolutely no butt?"

"Cute, Tweety," Lloyd calmly replied with a furrowed brow. "'Bout time ya got here. The five of us have been waiting on you."

"Five?" Stephanie repeated with a note of mild confusion. "Okay, I'm seeing Naked You, Naked Wally," she began to count while turning about the large, open space. "All right, there's Kyle Rayner, who happens to be shirtless and Almost Naked Kare Bear wearing Kyle's shirt and that raises a whole bunch of interesting possibilities." The raven-haired Green Lantern responded to Stephanie's brutish observations with a meek but civil wave while Kara could only hiss in her breath as a faint blush lit up her otherwise pale cheeks. "So who am I missing here?"

"That would be me, Robin."

Nightwing and Robin quickly turned their faces forward to spot a tall woman striding towards them with a noble gait emboldening her movements, her lightly tanned skin seemingly brightened by the star lights that shone off her black battle armor. Her countenance bore an expression of stoic professionalism but was also imbued with a sense of kindness forged by a life of love, compassion, and occasional heartbreak. Swiping back an errant strand of long, jet-black hair behind her ear, the sight of a pair of star-shaped earrings allowed Stephanie to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Sorry for the late arrival, everyone," Donna Troy said smoothly. "But allow me to welcome you to New Chronus."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay, so the chapter is a day-and-a-half late. Blaming the girlfriend for this one because she wanted to go out on a date right after getting off from work because there's no way I'm investing any emotional culpability here. I'm just happy that this was so easy for me to write. Like I said a couple of weeks ago, some of the side stories were fun to write but were also sometimes a chore to plan out. And, for those of you who haven't read _Drunken Grave Defiling, How to Meet New People, Patronly Stigmas, Settling the Little Grumblies_, and _With Apologies to Bea Arthur_. . . well. . . go ahead and read them! They're on the profile and somebody as insecure as I am could use some feedback!

I wish I could spread some of my occasional observations about the world of comics but, honestly, real life tends to keep getting in the way. I will admit that I'm somewhat jazzed about Stephanie Brown being the new Batgirl. Some people are already dogging it for the Buffy-like feel that the book is adopting but, hey, I was a huge Buffy fan. That being said, I would like to see another female DC superhero other than Wonder Woman who can behave in a mature and capable manner. Of course, the only real alternative there is to either have Gail Simone work on 20 books or have Dan DiDio hire me as a writer so I'm not seeing that as likely.

You want to know what is likely, though? That you're about to read a next issue preview, of course!

* * *

_Issue #85 Preview_

So the next arc has book has begun and not even The Misfits have any idea on what the hell is going on! So who has brought together seven college-age adults into the haven of a lost civilization? What are their intentions? What will Donna Troy add to the picture? And can we please get Kara, Lloyd and Wally some clothes?! Watch the mystery continue to unfold in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Pro Bono Apocolypto. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	85. Pro Bono Apocalypto

Issue #85

Pro Bono Apocalypto

_New Cronus_

The life of Donna Troy was often best defined by the titles that others had chosen to give her. Little sister, Wonder Girl, Teen Titan, big sister, photographer, Harbinger, teacher, wife, mother, Troia, Wonder Woman.

Casualty.

The inheritor of New Cronus could not help but draw her attention towards that particular designation more and more frequently over the last several years. The recollections that soon followed such periods of silent thought usually didn't unearth the fondest of memories but the sharp pulling of her heartstrings that accompanied them were enough to convince her to keep looking inward while others continued to ask her what she would do with the opportunities in front of her. After all, for so long she had defined her life by investing in the hopes and dreams of other people. She wanted her adopted brothers and sisters to be strong so she remained in Titans Tower well after she knew it was time for her to move on. She had attempted to find a familiar, stable state of life and mind by following her heart, a gamble whose fleeting benefits sometimes paled in comparison with the lasting consequences that hung with her even today.

Would she have married so young if Terry hadn't been so insistent? Would she have tried to bring a child into the world if she had more time to think about how dangerous her world had become? Such unanswered questions continue to nick at her usually serene disposition but did give her the strength of will to search for something more.

She was happy traveling the stars, searching for those who needed hope or protection and each and every one of her good deeds and intentions served to rekindle her own aspirations of finding a place in the brave, new world she had been all but forced back into. Still, despite her determination to continue to move forward, the warmth of the past was enough to convince her to examine the small crowd below her, a small mixture of strangers and deeply familiar faces, and quickly brush her emotional walls aside. The wide, honest smile that came with her bravery continued to grow brighter as a familiar gentleman stepped forward to greet her, the friend who had seemingly always been the first at her door whenever either of them faced troubled times. That communal knowledge caused the both of them to chuckle as they met with a warm embrace, their similar height and stature forcing Donna to tilt her head upward in order to settle her chin against the man's right shoulder.

"Been a long time, Girl Wonder," Nightwing said with soft affection, the shadowy vigilante surprisingly comfortable within the nearly bone-crushing strength of his far stronger comrade.

"Far too long," Donna agreed quickly and easily, her words harboring not a bit of malice or ill intentions that had seemed to dominate such conversations between her old friends in the years past. After all, how many times had Garth and Roy been so eager to point out how quickly she was to mother them and keep them out of such unnecessary squabbles? "And apparently I've missed a lot," she added before pulling away from the embrace just far enough to flick her right finger against Grayson's nose, "Mister Big Time Justice Leaguer."

Nightwing could only respond with a familiar blush, the same flush of his cheeks that came whenever Batman rewarded him with a rare compliment in return for a job well done. The uncharacteristic freedom laced within his bashful features caused Donna to crinkle up her nose and laugh, her amusement nearly enough to distract her from the bouncing, human-shaped ball of black, green, orange, and blonde that had seemingly decided to devote itself to gaining her attention at any cost.

"I've heard a great many stories about you from quite a few of my friends," Donna began while fully pulling away from the arms of her old friend. "Most of them not the least bit encouraging."

Stephanie responded to the possible accusation with a toothy grin as she extended her right hand forward. "Congratulations for coming back to life, Miss. . ." the noisy Green Lantern tilted her head to one side as she thought something over. "Are you still Troia or are you Wonder Girl again or are you somebody new or, oh God, tell me you're not Harbinger again, are you? 'Cause that was just an awful gimmick."

"Donna is fine," the raven-haired heroine of many retired designations finally replied while shaking the younger woman's hand. "And as far as the whole coming back from the dead thing is concerned, I suppose I should say the same for you." She kept one eye focused on the mockingly polite curtsy the current Robin sent her way before focusing upon a more familiar face. "Sorry to leave you in the lurch, by the way."

"Ah, it's all right," Kyle Rayner replied with a shrug of his shoulders and a careless wave of his right hand, the Oan power ring fixed upon his ring finger giving off a flicker of an emerald glow. "At least now I know the reason why you left in the first place."

"An' speaking on that," interrupted The Black Dog, the vigilante's short supply of patience for small talk already running dry. "Exactly why did you bring us all out here?"

It only took a moment for Donna to break away from her short embrace of The Flash before she turned Lloyd's way, a mildly fractious frown surfacing upon her otherwise attractive countenance. "I didn't summon you here. He did."

Many of the surrounding warriors and soldiers clamped their eyes shut as a familiar signature of eldritch energy made its presence felt, a bolt of golden lightning striking the flat, stone floor about thirty yards to Donna's back. Unfortunately for this most recent arrival, the shock that came with the startling sound was quickly replaced by a general feeling of mild annoyance as the short, childlike frame of Shazam's heir appeared within the supernatural deluge, the twinkle in Billy Batson's baby-blue eyes somehow managing to give off an air of both mild amusement and sincere contrition. The mystic defender of Earth-1 took a moment to brush some dust and grit off of his red, cashmere sweater before moving his hands downward to smooth out the wrinkles of his black, dress pants, the youthful immortal looking like a somewhat fussy child being forced to take holiday snaps by his impatient parents.

"Oh, goody goody gumdrops. We've been summoned once again by the walking, talking Big Boy mascot again," Stephanie droned while blowing out her breath upward in order to sweep back an errant strand of blonde hair that had fallen in front of her eyes during all the commotion. "Didn't we just do your job a couple months ago when we took out that giant, over-elaborate blueberry guy?"

The former Captain Marvel countered the Green Lantern's pointed criticism with a gentle grin that somehow managed to ease even Robin's tempestuous mood. "I must apologize for never giving my proper thanks for your assistance in the battle against Krona," he gently confessed. "That being said, it appears that the coming state of affairs is both urgent and calls for a great deal of violence and recent history shows us that this group tends to be comfortable with both of those potential problems."

"Fair enough," The Flash began, his response momentarily stymied as he gave Stephanie a mildly perturbed look in response to the younger Lantern's quiet round of cackling. "A word of warning would have been nice though. And maybe a chance to let us look a bit more dignified."

Batson momentarily ducked his head in a bashful manner while his lips went to work murmuring an obscure incantation, the chant causing a trio of golden energy waves to circle around his stubby fingers. Sending the hastily formed orbs to tightly circle around Kara, Lloyd, and Wally, it took little effort for the galactic guardian to cobble up a reasonable facsimile of the attire that the three bereft warriors preferred to wear in such perilous situations. Several seconds then passed as Kara gave a satisfied grunt to her newly acquired sea-green sweater and black jeans, Wally admired the familiar uniform of The Flash clutched around his body while Lloyd calmly slid the _Mugalshir_within a leather scabbard attached to his black-and-gold battle suit, the mystically enhanced silk and titanium mesh giving him enough room to fly and cast spells while keeping any extraneous bits of clothes from getting in his way.

"Hey, look, it's The Gold Ranger," Stephanie quipped, her words earning her a backwards peace sign courtesy of her adopted big brother. "Oh, and Shazam Junior! Can you try again with Wall-Eye here? 'Cause he still looks like a guy wrapped in a red cond_ouch!_" She quickly silenced her yelp while rubbing the back of her head, the skin and bone momentarily stinging after being struck by the fastest swat in recent history.

"Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way," Wally began once again as he shook his hand back and forth. "Just what have you brought us out here to deal with anyway?"

Batson said nothing as he employed his mystical prowess to create an image within the space around him, his magic twisting the surrounding mounds and mountains of lunar rock that had withered and hardened over the course of hundreds of millennia. What appeared in its place was something far more ominous and foreboding, a spitting, reeking planet whose surface was seared by magma and chaos and stank of the blood that had been spilled in order to make that area what it had become. The new sight provided a variety of reactions from all concerned. Dick, Donna, Kyle, and Wally, those who were well aware of what they were looking at, each took in the sight of the hellish-looking beasts and monstrous war machines that seemed to dominate the desolate landscape and narrowed their senses and sights in order to better receive what news there was to come. Lloyd and Stephanie, on the other, chose to keep their eyes and minds open, the younger fighters perturbed by the potential situation at hand but still darkly eager to learn more.

"What I am asking of you will hardly be simple and not the least bit safe," Batson gravely informed his audience. "However, the recent turn of events involving the war between Apokolips and New Genesis is a matter that must be dealt with the utmost urgency."

"Sure we can't just drop by and have a picnic? Maybe makes some S'mores?" Kyle Rayner asked with a nervous chuckle, the former Ion looking to and fro in his attempts to find someone who would join him in a bit of gallows humor. Finding no one, he instead searched for someone else that looked frightened or even less than fully determined and soon caught sight of Kara, the fear and hesitation in the young Kryptonian's eyes quickly forcing him to become quiet.

"Darkseid and his ilk have been goin' at each other for centuries now," Lloyd threw in while crossing his arms over his chest. "What makes today so much more important?"

"Because your mutual foe has managed to gain access to something he has been searching for since even before any of us were born, a weapon that will not only allow him to wipe out his most pressing rivals but also eliminate anyone he wishes to erase from the reality he wishes to create and conquer."

"Well, that sounds wonderfully ominous," Lloyd said darkly, his eyes also stuck on the concern etched all over Kara's face. "Don't suppose we're chattin' about some new reality television show, are we?"

A mild flicker of amusement surfaced on Billy Batson's face as he allowed his colleagues a round of companionable silence. After letting that pass, he then snapped his fingers and twisted the images surrounding them into a single swirl of black-and-red energy, the stomach-turning collage of collars not possibly enough to properly define the true horror that could be spawned by Darkseid's discovery.

"What you are looking at is the spectral equivalent of what has come to be known as The Anti-Life Equation," Batson continued on, a stern tone taking over his delivery as he delved into the point of the matter. "Designed to draw forth an individual's guilt, shame, loneliness, and fear, it is a combination of shadowed enchantments and long-extinct magitechnology that can be fashioned to affect either an individual or many at one time. This energy, if properly honed and harnessed, allows the wielder to not only dominate but also manipulate the will of any sentient and/or sapient being that they choose."

"Sooooo, not just a super-duper death ray," Stephanie said slowly, her words a bit too slow and cautious to be equipped with her usual good-humor. Her reservation was only amplified as Batson replied by shaking his head back and forth. "Damn it, why can't our enemies just want to kill us and make musical instruments out of our bones?"

"Death would be a luxury for those that Darkseid would wish to control," the former Captain Marvel went on, his words accentuated by the simultaneous creation of an image of the New God and Lord of Apokolips. The menace exuded by just a picture of the monster was palpable, the creature's seven-foot, 400-pound frame shifted midnight-black and hardened more than any diamond thanks to thousands of days ruling upon a planet with no sun or sanctuary. His crimson-red eyes spoke a simple tale of death, pain, and suffering, a story that had been told countless times by an uncaring narrator who had long learned of the simplicity of recreating what he could destroy. His dark-blue battle armor, comprised of metal tempered by the flame pits of his own home, was unmarred and clean while his tall forehead bore the scars and crags formed by decades of warfare, a seemingly unending series of battles in which he emerged the victor far more often than not.

"His discovery of The Anti-Life Equation was a goal that had escaped him for over three centuries, decades where he was forced to endure struggles and hardships brought about by his failure to discover what he prized most of all. It is doubtless that he will be more than eager to turn his new weapon upon those that still resist him and we must act quickly to make certain that his twisted ambitions do not reach fruition."

Several seconds of silence passed as Batson's seven champions silently thought the matter over. Of course, given who they were and how they generally responded to situations like these, they were hardly quiet for long.

"Hoo boy," Kyle Rayner began, the former comic-book artist running a weary hand through his well-kept mop of jet-black hair. "Something tells me we're not going to get paid for doing all this work, are we?"

"Aww. Of course not, buddy," The Flash snorted back, the familiar camaraderie with his former running buddy in the Justice League quick to resurface. "'Cause, y'know, that would actually make some sort of sense."

"As ominous as this sounds, I'm still having trouble understanding what you want us to do about all this?" asked Nightwing, the current JLA member wisely ignoring his friends' jibes.

"I'm definitely with Broodboy Junior on this," Stephanie added while raising her hand like an impatient schoolchild eager to answer a question in math class. "I mean, I'm pretty awesome and all but asking me and the rest of us to take on a whole bunch of Parademons, intergalactic lawyers, burlesque show rejects, and all of the rest of this guy's army of baddies is definitely a little too much to ask for."

"No one will be asking you to take on all of Darkseid's forces," Batson patiently replied, his spectral manipulations coming to an abrupt end as the quiet milieu of New Cronus reappeared before everybody's eyes. "The seven of you, each champions of the planet that Darkseid has chosen to mark as his greatest enemy, will serve as the main strike force for the armies of New Genesis. While Orion's forces engage in a front-force skirmish with the armies of Apokolips, you will attack Darkseid's capital in order to locate and relieve Darkseid of The Anti-Life Equation."

Billy Batson didn't need the wisdom of Solomon to realize that he had probably posed the best example of something that was easy to say and tough to do. However, the uncertainty and reservation in the thoughts of his selected guardians was enough to convince him to soldier on. "It is essential that this calamity be contained before it is allowed to stretch to a point we can no longer reach and this is something I cannot do without your assistance."

"I'm a bit more unsure about Orion pulling off what you're apparently asking him to do," noted Donna Troy, her last several years traveling the cosmos arming her with more knowledge about the war between the two planets than what was available to those around her. "There's no way that New Genesis has the numbers to pull off something like this."

All eyes once again turned to Billy Batson as he hastily took on the task of answering the former Amazon's legitimate concern. "Though Orion's army has been bolstered by a recent alliance with the people of Thangaar, it is true that New Genesis could not possibly accomplish a full-scale invasion of Darkseid's kingdom, Anti-Life Equation or no. That being said, they do have enough at their disposal to stymie Apokolips and provide you with the time you will need to strike."

"We happy, happy few," Lloyd mumbled, the Brit's words causing Nightwing's lips to twist upward in a wry smile. "And wot happens if we don't get what we're lookin' for?"

"Then full permission will be given to the Green Lantern Corps to launch a full-scale strike upon Darkseid and all of his holdings," Batson answered, his words prompting the two Green Lanterns to look cautious and worried as they began to do the math. "As some of you have already imagined, the damage brought about by such a conflict would be cataclysmic even under the most optimistic of circumstances and something that would best be avoided if at all possible."

"Sounds like," The Black Dog surmised, the fingers of his left hand moving forward to skim across the stubble that had formed on his chin. "I'm in," he quickly declared, his hasty decision drawing a share of surprised glances from his friends and adopted family. "Come on, you lot, this is precisely the kind of thing that we've spent years training to do; to cut off the things rising through the cracks before it can spread up and cause all kinds of hell." The former student of Mao Tenryu took a moment to take in his surrounding, soaking in the available emotions and feeling a bit surprised by his own actions. "At least that's what I think."

"Couldn't have put it better myself, Puppy," Stephanie responded with a wide smile. "What the hell. It's never a bad time to get yourself killed for a good cause."

"Agreed," Donna Troy chimed in. "Well, at least as far as working for a good cause is concerned. I have to admit that I'm not really comfortable with taking my chances again so I think I'll avoid dying again if I can do so."

Batson couldn't help but smile as the rest of his soldiers agreed with their own words and nature. "Black Dog, I shall assign you to the task of leading the battle team while keeping with Orion's orders. He wishes for the end of Darkseid's reign of terror more than any other living soul and it is certain that he will put you to your best possible use."

"Woah, woah, wait a moment," Donna intervened, the statuesque woman stepping forward in order to better present her point. "Billy, with all due respect, I've worked for weeks in order to prepare New Cronus for this mission and I've followed each and every one of your requests to the letter. However, as much faith that some of my comrades may seem to have in him, I don't feel comfortable with trusting this man with such a responsibility."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows at that, a quick glare he sent Stephanie's way quickly silencing what would have doubtlessly been a profanity-laden retort. "This man, huh?" he asked with a hint of dark curiosity. "Well, no offense meant for you either, Miss Troy, but I'm not about to put the safety of my friends and loved ones in anybody else's hands but mine." The cocksure attitude that could have been gleaned from the young swordsman's words caused Donna to furrow her brow, an expression that led, in turn, to the appearance of a sneer creeping onto Lloyd's face. "Gotta rich tradition of people leading me into situations I don't like and I'm not about to have this little state of affairs become one of the same."

Always one to see a pointless squabble before it could rise to the surface (so long as he wasn't the one causing it, of course), Dick Grayson was already on the move by the time Lloyd had finished his overprotective claim. However, just like the young woman he had given his former mantle to, his efforts were quickly shut down by a familiar, determined glare.

"I'll have you know that you're not the only person here who has watched somebody die while wishing they could have done something more," Donna growled back through gritted teeth as soon as her "conversation" with Dick was completed. "I have also fought on the frontlines in the war against Darkseid and I have traveled the stars to make certain that monsters such as him don't have their way. My knowledge of Apokolips and intergalactic affairs is far superior to yours and it's my satellite that we will be using to travel to the warzone in the first place."

Robin cinched in her teeth as her adopted big brother fired back with his own anger-laced rejoinder, the already burning embers of a full-blown argument already beginning to form into a fire. Still, a bit too worried about being shut down once again, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns decided to slowly toddle over to a far more civil pair of role models that she tended to annoy. "Psst. Hey, Nightwing!" she whispered, the usually tactless Gothamite continuing to take great efforts to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. "I thought you were supposed to be the big, bad leader of the Titans."

"That's only because Donna let him be in charge," Wally whispered back in Dick's stead, his interruption earning him a quick Batglare from the former acrobat and Batman understudy.

"Donna, Lloyd, that's enough!" Kyle Rayner barked out while stepping forward to separate the two quarreling potential leaders, the Green Lantern Corps officer surprisingly fearless in his attempt to break up a fight between two people that could easily have knocked his head clean off of his shoulders. "Black Dog, I would be dead a dozen times over if I didn't have Donna watching my back when we were searching for Ray Palmer. She's one of the smartest people I know and I assure you that she'll pull more than her fair share of the weight on this." Kyle was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief as his words seemed to momentarily appease the younger of the two quarrelers. "And Donna, I know he's young but it was Lloyd's thinking that allowed me to break free from the hold that Parallax on me. He's a big reason why the battle with The Sinestro Corps wasn't as disastrous as it could have been. I trust him with this and so should you."

Rayner did his best to keep hold of the stern but compassionate look he gave to his ex-girlfriend and longtime comrade-in-arms, his urge to look away out of trepidation or embarrassment nipping at his metaphorical heels until Donna finally broke the stalemate with a wry smile.

"Well, never let it be said that you didn't have enough will power, Mister Rayner," Donna said smoothly, her words causing Kyle to reply with a gentle smile as she turned towards Lloyd. "All right. I'll fall in line," she relented before extending her hand. "Don't let me down, Mister Thomas."

"Don't intend to," Lloyd replied quickly and earnestly while moving to accept the peace offering and clasping Donna's hand.

"Very good," Batson announced, the shared realization that the wizard had done nothing to stop the debate still lingering in the thoughts of many of the surrounding warriors. "The speed and structural integrity of New Cronus should allow you to reach New Genesis in three hours. I advise you to use your preparation time wisely."

"Oh, I always do," Stephanie butted in, her body quickly suffused by an emerald aura as she once again took to the sky. "Should be more than enough time for everybody else to have a meaningful conversation about life and the state of the universe and how to breed puppies and such. Meanwhile, I'm gonna see if I can scarce up a turkey sandwich on this rock."

Nightwing shook his head back and forth as Robin hurtled off into parts unknown to her, his amusement lasting just long enough for him to be nastily surprised by the angry glare that Lloyd was suddenly throwing his way, The Misfits second-in-command quietly letting him in on a bit of information before making his way towards Kara.

"Oh, bloody buggering hell," he mumbled, his words barely audible even to Wally's ears. "He so knows about me and Naomi, doesn't he?"

"Oh, yeah," Wally quickly answered, the speedster sporting as much of a cheeky grin as he could manage while giving his old friend a decidedly sardonic congratulatory clap across the shoulders. "And, as you've once again proven, Kanye West could give you lessons on how not to put yourself into stupid situations."

* * *

Nearly a half-hour had passed since New Cronus had begun its voyage and, quite honestly, Kyle Rayner figured that he just couldn't afford to let his good luck go to waste. Thus, after politely excusing himself from the antics taking place within the citadel, the part-time freelance artist and fulltime intergalactic champion employed his Oan power ring to search for the only member of their team who had chosen to waste away their time strictly upon their own terms. Quickly finding her perched upon a large plateau nearly 500 miles away from the satellite's cockpit, the Green Lantern took a moment to observe her still form while pondering over whether or not he should interfere with whatever she was choosing to do. However, his inquisitiveness eventually took the decision out of his hands as the woman opened her eyes and looked straight at him, her even disposition something he wouldn't have expected from Superman's cousin.

"So, um, what gave me away there?" Rayner asked while taking a self-conscious moment to brush back his hair with his right hand.

Kara's poker face was momentarily fractured by a polite grin as she broke herself from her seated position by stretching her legs outward. "I've been training to detect dangerous forms of magic and supernatural energy by altering the energy manipulation abilities provided by my Praxian DNA. Just a way of giving myself the opportunity to head some of my troubles off at the pass." she said easily, the complexity of her explanation convincing Kyle to once again be grateful that the former Supergirl had chosen to stray from the attire that had made The Man of Steel so iconic. "That and you move like a drunk elephant."

"Really?" Kyle asked gamely while bringing his aloft body down to the flat expanse of land to Kara's left. Upon finding solid ground, he used his ring to create the spectral image of a decidedly tipsy Dumbo (the original design, of course, not the digitally remastered crap that Wally had tried to pollute his eyes with the last time he made his way to movie night at Wayne Manor), the baby elephant with a feather in his cap lurching about while blowing a series of large, foam bubbles from his trunk. "Because, honestly, I'm failing to see the resemblance."

Kara allowed herself a chuckle as she rose back to her feet, her long, agile hands quickly swiping back some dust that had formed on her jeans during her still solitude. "So how can I help you, Mister Rayner?"

"Well, I was just kind of curious as to why you just went off on your own like this," Kyle honestly replied, his bold concern causing Kara to raise her eyebrows in interest. "Plus I kinda saw the way you reacted when you heard Billy talking about Darkseid," he added, the longtime king of failed romantic relationships knowing enough not to point out that Kara had failed to fully hide the shudder that came soon after the last word left his lips. Weathering the silent apology that Kara gave to him in response, he patiently waited for the younger fighter to decide when or if she was ready to talk.

"I've got a bit of history with Apokolips," Kara finally revealed after a bit of hemming and hawing, her downcast eyes quickly finding a small pebble near her feet that was quickly kicked off of the lunar plateau. "When I first came to Earth, Darkseid sought me out thinking that he could use me as a weapon against my cousin," her words were soft but thick, a clear sign that she was still not comfortable with the memories that came with what she was saying. "He even ended up attacking Themyscira, killing dozens of innocent people and somebody that I was hoping would be my first friend on Earth just so he could get to me."

"I see," Kyle said with a nod, the Green Lantern quite knowledgeable about the misfortune of good people getting caught in the crossfire. In return, the half-Kryptonian took a moment to give Kyle an understanding nod before going on, her crystalline blue eyes focused on something not even close to who was listening to her or the surrounding surface of the lunar satellite they were both situated upon.

"He knew that there was something. . . something wrong with me even before I did," she whispered, almost surprised with how little the realization hurt now in comparison to the clutching pain in her gut that tormented her during many sleepless nights at Wayne Manor. "He used my own memories against me, plucking them right out of my mind before I was even ready to see them and used them to twist me into something I never want to be again." The curdling of the bile in her stomach almost tempted her into clamping her upper teeth down on her lower lip as shame and frustration ran through her, the harnessing of more pleasant memories garnered from the night before enough to keep her from choking up. "I was trying so hard to make sure not to screw everything up and keep everybody from seeing what I was that I couldn't do anything when he made me into what he wanted. I was so. . . helpless."

Kyle could see how much was bottled up in that very last word, so much so that he unconsciously stretched his right arm forward, presumably to grasp her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He didn't know why he did it or why he thought it was a good idea but the questions were quickly rendered moot as Kara quickly turned away, a wave of annoyance washing over her usually calm countenance.

"I would have become a monster again if it wasn't for Bruce and my cousin. They put themselves in harm's way just to protect somebody they barely knew and so much of what I've done these past few years is to keep something like that from happening again." Her strong hands curled into fists as an impossibly intense heat bubbled around her optic nerves. "I just wish he would have told me where we were going. Maybe I'd be more prepared. . ."

Kyle let Kara's hanging thought waste itself away, the intermittent gentleman making certain to catch the woman's eyes before saying what was on his mind. "Well, I'm not really sure if I'm in the right place to say it, especially since Parallax didn't seem to have much trouble turning me into his own personal rumpus room," he offered, his acknowledgment tempting Kara to look straight back at him. "But you were the one who stepped up and took me on until Lloyd was ready to help me get rid of that monster. Not your cousin or Batman or anything else and that's something I'll always owe you for. So. . . I guess what I'm trying to say is. . . don't let yourself keep other people from trying to help you get through what you're going through, okay?"

The Last Daughter of Krypton managed to let out a long, loud sigh as she considered that potentially risky option, her slim shoulders rising up harshly before coming back down slowly and smoothly. "Y'know, I shooed Lloyd away because I knew he was going to say something like that," she confessed. "All right. I'll do what I can," she finally promised, the 18-year-old eventually finding the certainty to look her confidante in the eyes once again. "Nothing you can do but try, right?"

"Do or do not. There is no try." Kyle replied almost on instinct, his normally handsome face wrinkling up as his voice suddenly sounded a lot older than it should have been.

"What is it with guys and Star Wars?" Kara couldn't help but ask aloud while shaking her head back and forth, the disbelief on her face quickly forcing both her and Kyle into a shared bit of laughter. Despite her initial resistance to avoid it, she found the camaraderie comforting enough to look at Kyle with a mischievous glimmer of a smile. "Steph was right about you being a real sweetheart."

"Maaaaah," Kyle garbled back while trying his best to look cool. "A blind squirrel's got to find a nut every now and again, right?"

Kara cocked her head to one side upon hearing the self-depreciatory comeback, her work as a mostly silent observer during Batson's briefing allowing her the opportunity to find a worthy riposte.

"Well, judging from the way Donna's heartbeat picked up when she saw you were here, I'd say that she's interesting in taking care of those nuts of yours. . ."

Kyle couldn't help but keep his mouth agape as Kara flied off with a roguish chuckle. "Awwwww," he groaned once he finally got his lips working again. "That's just. . . man. . . I'm really hoping I never have to hear your cousin say stuff like that!" he exclaimed before quickly following his new friend's example.

* * *

Donna had long grown comfortable with the massive expanse of glass, rock, and gadgetry that served as the bridge of the satellite that had become her adopted home. The opaque lenses that served as the last line of defense from any debris that the moon would come across on its frequent travels was still clear enough to allow her to see what she was moving through, her own window to a reality that she couldn't have even begun to comprehend during her days on Themyscira. Giving a quick glance to the spires and outcroppings of brown rock that bordered the secondary navigational arrays and various metal seats on the lower level of the main chamber, she felt the sense of control she had earned flowing through her once again, the mixture of nature and technology providing an appropriate match for an individual who had sought comfort in embracing both the past and the future. Though the emerald cluster of energy provided by the Oan transmat portal offered little in the way of alternative sights, she kept her eyes glued to it while making certain her ship stayed on its present course. She had guests, after all, and it was hardly proper to treat either old friends or potential comrades with unnecessary disrespect.

The moment when the sliding metal door separating the second level of the cockpit from the corridor outside opened wide almost brought up an unusual spike of anger in her but the rage was quickly quelled as her ears recognized the footsteps sounding off of the metal beneath her feet. She couldn't even remember when he stopped trying to sneak up on her but the plethora of memories that came with thinking about those days brought another bright smile to her face, one that, quite frankly, could not have been brought about by anyone else.

"Should have guessed that this place would have a window to the world," Nightwing said with just a hint of brightness as he moved to stand at Donna's side. "After all, how else are you going to watch what everybody's doing?"

Donna fired back at the harmless accusation with a tilted grin, her hands momentarily too busy with piloting her home to slug an impudent detective on the shoulder. "Would have thought that the son of Batman would know better than to talk about things like that."

Dick Grayson merely shrugged his shoulders, the last remnants of tension already fleeting from him at a rapid pace to be replaced by a familiarity cultured through nearly 15 years of friendship. "Well, with experience comes knowledge," he offered in his defense while stuffing his hands into his pockets. "And besides, it wouldn't be a Teen Titan reunion without somebody saying something that would cause a little dramatic angst."

The unwilling and highly undignified snort that Donna provided in response would have been enough for her to pale with embarrassment under most circumstances. However, given her present company, she managed to weather her discomfiture with a bit of mild annoyance. "We did spend an awfully long time being teenagers, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but at least we finally got out of the goofy outfits," Dick offered back. "Well, except for the whole star-pattern unitard thing you insist on rocking. . ."

"Hey, now! I happen to like this outfit!" Donna fired back while still maintaining her good humor, her unblemished smile causing her old friend to grin back in return.

"Yes, and I'm sure that Mister Rayner likes it too," Nightwing countered while twisting his face into a swarthy leer that was far too gaudy to be real. "Boy, it sure seems to lift and separate in all the right areas."

Donna raised her eyebrows at that, the flirtatious distraction not successful in the least. "You know, you can disparage my battle armor all you like but, really here, we both know that the year you spent wearing disco wings still doesn't leave you with enough good karma to be bashing anybody else's attire."

"Uuuuuuugh," Nightwing groaned while wrapping his right hand around his forehead, his melodramatic display forcing Donna to finally lose it and pitch forward in laughter. "I told ya! That was K'ory's idea! If I didn't wear them then I never would have heard the end of it."

"Oh, I'm sure that's true," Donna gasped out, her longtime friendship with Richard's former fiancée not enough to deny the Tamaranean's hot temper or willingness to get what she wanted. "And Hera knows that you've never been one to stand up to your girlfriends."

"Hey! Hey!! HEY!!!" Nightwing squawked, his failed attempt to sound offended making his exclamations come out in a high, somewhat childlike pitch. "Damn it! Now I'm sounding like I'm twelve again. . ."

Neither one of the friends could stop laughing even after Donna wrapped her arms firmly around Dick's chest once again, the emotions drawn up from nearly two years spent apart finally welling to the surface with a surprisingly peaceful clash. Ten seconds of silence and stillness passed before Nightwing made his first move to break free of the embrace but he soon found himself pushed back in by the superior strength of his Amazonian friend. Fifteen more seconds went by until Donna then tried to move her way backwards but the pressure she felt on her lower back as her old friend held her a little bit tighter was just enough to keep her from moving.

"You finally got to see the stars," Dick murmured into Donna's ear. "Just like you always wanted to do."

"Yep," Donna responded with equal caution and temerity, her breath tickling Nightwing's ear and distracting him enough to allow her to break free. "And you're out of your father's shadow," she said with a warmth that caused Dick to shy away once again. "I wish I could have been there to see it happen."

"You were there," Dick insisted, his quick counter surprising even Donna with its conviction and sincerity. "As much as anybody else who was there and anyone else I've ever known."

The green ether and the stars that lay behind it were temporarily all but forgotten as the former Troia and Wonder Girl looked deep in Richard Grayson's eyes and searched for any hint of deceit or falseness in his thoughts. Finding none, she suddenly found it hard to keep her eyes from watering up. "Wow, Richie. After all those years. . . and you're still just as corny as you were when you wearing the pixie shorts," she fired back with a sniff, her words earning her a friendly shove to the shoulder that didn't move her an inch. "So. . . tell me a bit about who we're going to war with. Starting with the somewhat annoying fellow who is apparently going to be leading me around."

"Ah, Lloyd's not that bad," Nightwing replied while turning his own share of attention to what lay outside the force barriers protecting New Cronus during its phenomenally fast travels. "He's more than a little rough around the edges, especially in situations like these, but he'll get the job done as soon as he stops worrying about whether or not he can do it." The quizzical look Donna fired back at him in return caused Dick to give a casual shrug of his shoulders before continuing on. "Don't think I've ever met anyone who tried so hard to make sure everybody comes back in one piece. Well, maybe except for a certain pushy, black-haired mother hen that made sure four young lads didn't order out for pizza every night of the week."

"Ha ha," Donna blithely fired back, her eyes still facing forward despite the urge to shoot her seditious comrade a critical look. "Still, that's some awfully nice things to say about a guy who was giving you the evil eye back there."

"Um, yeah. . ." Nightwing suddenly found the polished, metal floor beneath his feet to be utterly fascinating as his right hand moved to scratch at an imaginary itch at the back of his head. "Well. . . um. . . that's sorta because I'm. . . kindagoingoutwithhismom."

A phenomenally dense wave of tension now dominated the bridge of the satellite, the apprehension steeped within awkward embarrassment and stunned stillness. Of course, a combined 33 years of work in the field of vigilantism and performing various feats of superhero-related derring-do did not usually leave two people completely off guard for long. Thus, summoning a sound amount of her patience and wits, Donna Troy responded with the most appropriate option that she could bring to the table.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" the former Darkstar bellowed as she nearly fell to the floor in the midst of her complete loss of composure. "Oh. . . oh, Dick," she managed to sputter out as she struggled back to stand to her full height. "Do you _ever _learn?"

Nightwing remained surprisingly calm as he placed his hands on his hips in a mildly affronted manner. "Don't make me remind you of your romance with one Roy Harper, Miss Troy."

Donna moved to recover herself as she stuck out her right palm in a relenting manner. "Fair enough, Boy Blunder," she said upon finally managing to get air back into her lungs. "So are we hoping that the 20th time is the charm here?"

"Eh, I've stopped counting," Dick growled back, the acerbic tone in his voice more reserved for his life in general than the woman in front of him. "And, if all else fails, we'll always have each other, huh?"

"Indeed," Donna said with absolute conviction before extending her right hand forward. "Grayson and Troy. . ."

Dick needed no further urging to clasp arms with the closest thing he had ever had to a sister, his right hand wrapping itself firmly around the bracelet covering Donna's wrist.

"'Til the end of the world."

* * *

"Leave it alone, woman," Lloyd grumbled while slapping a card down and sliding it to his left.

"Awwwww, come on, Puppy!" Stephanie cheerfully exclaimed, her cheeks scrunching up as she wracked her brain in order to search for the best move that she could make. "Just do it once for me! Say. . . it's morphin' time!"

"Shut your gob, Tweety," The Black Dog said flatly. "After all, you don't hear me tellin' you to say 'Holy Hand Grenades, Batman' anymore now, do ya?"

"Well. . . then how about. . .BACK TO ACTION!" Robin wore on, all thoughts of what was going on just seconds before momentarily lost as she endeavored to get what she wanted in the present time. "Or maybe just a nice Austin St. John model EYAAAAAAA_. . ."_

_THWAP!_

". . . _eyow!_" Stephanie yelped, the force of the telekinetic slap to the back of her head prompting her to once again rub frantically at the hair and skin covering her parietal lobe. "Why does everybody insist on hitting me?"

"You've just got one of those faces," The Flash offered, his quick wit causing Stephanie to stick out her tongue at The Fastest Man Alive. "Okay, here, back to the forefront here. . . Steph, do you have anyyyyyyyyy threes?"

"Try not to catch any relatives when you go fishin', Wall-Eye!" Stephanie replied with a dangerous smile, the Green Lantern's enthusiasm enough to force a muffle curse from The Flash's lips before the speedster stuck out his right hand to retrieve the top card from the dwindling pile at the middle of the table. "And I still think that you're cheating, Lloyd."

"Ugh, nonsense and poppycock, my dear, sweet, surrogate little sister," Lloyd said in a posh, Noah Kuttler-like manner as he fanned his face with the small group of cards in his left hand. "Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking so little of me. Ah, and while you're feeling unbridled guilt for your gross assumptions, feel free to hand me that four of yours."

"What the hell are you yammering. . . . OH, GOD DAMN IT!" Stephanie spat as she threw the four of diamonds down to the table with an undignified huff, her behavior painting a strong contrast to Lloyd's cool and calm demeanor as he collected the other half of his trick.

"Well, as fun as it is watching Stephanie turn various shades of red," Wally interrupted as the previously mentioned blonde-haired Gothamite moved to calm herself down. "I still think we should have played 500 Rummy instead. I mean, this game just doesn't have any strategy to it!"

"Wot, and that game does?" It almost appeared as if Lloyd's eyes were about to roll to the back of his head as he considered Wally's claim. "Most games of that usually just end up with everybody waiting for one card so they can be put out of their misery. At least Crazy Eights is short."

"Yeah, well regardless of that stunning debate," Stephanie said as she finally put her cards down, the girl known as Robin letting out a weary groan as she stretched backwards in order to work out a kink that had formed up in her lower back. "I think we've officially found the stupidest way that a group of people could possibly spend the three hours they had before throwing themselves in a war to save a galaxy."

"Agreed." The Flash said while throwing down his own cards. "We should be kinda proud of this."

"Well, I know I am," Lloyd added, the three champions of justice nodding in shared agreement as New Cronus emerged from the transmat portal and arrived at a spot a mere 100 miles from the surface of New Genesis.

* * *

_New Genesis – Supertown_

This planet has always struck me to be too clean for the bloodshed that sets it apart from so many others. Neither the might and dimension of the architecture that festoon this urban landscape nor the gargantuan mountains and hills that roam outside of it did not appear to have seen a fraction of the chaos and strife this world had endured. The starkness cruelly reminds me of what my homes should have been, both the one of my birth and the one I have made my own, and a spike of rage runs through my tired, aching muscles as the screams of the bloodthirsty continue to invade my ears. I use that vigor to raise my weapon high, the sturdy metal allowing me to smash in the skull of the sickly, ashen beast in front of me. I barely feel the spray of black blood that erupts from the monster's ruptured skull as it splashes against my bare chest, the momentary impediment not nearly enough to keep me from what I need to do.

Darkseid's Parademons were never an easy or a fetching kill, the shock troopers of the Lord of Apokolips often conditioned to have no thoughts other than the unending, bloodthirsty rage that drive them to commit their reprehensible deeds. Their jagged fangs are often rotten but still sharp and able to tear into the flesh of their enemies should their advanced weaponry fail and their willingness to die in the name of unending battle nearly matched my own desire to put them out of their treasured miseries. One of them is able to bite into my shoulder while another one manages to barely miss burning the left side of my chest with an energy lance spitting from its pistol, the coinciding stimuli forcing me back into action as I curse my lack of attention. A quick, right turn forces the closer one into the gunman's path of fire, the sound of laser fire sizzling through the dead flesh sounding sharp to my ears as I hastily do away with the accidentally traitorous Parademon, my blood-soaked sword of state crackling with eldritch energy as it brings a messy end to yet another opponent.

A series of warnings and loud questions prompt me to instinctually look up into the sky despite the distractions of the battle around me, the sight of reinforcements almost enough to set up a spark of joy in me as I continue to do my best to contain the battlefield. Thankfully, the unnecessary emotion is easily stuffed down and I allow myself to push forward, my thoughts evenly divided between protecting Orion's men and identifying just who Batson has summoned to aid us in our time of need. The impressive sight of New Cronus hovering above provides a sound clue that Donna Troy was among them and the blur of black and starlight that invades the western side of the tiny warzone confirms that, the former Amazon quick and precise in securing her side of the combat zone. Kyle Rayner is equally efficient in his moves to bottle up the adjacent side, the young Green Lantern employing a variety of overdrawn images to shepherd Darkseid's troops while protecting an endangered regiment of Genesis troopers at the same time.

Of course, no containment strategy is fully complete without something or someone to break it up from the middle out. I manage to rid this world of three more Parademons before I begin to discover the next part of the plan and the young warriors responsible for making sure that the gambit succeeds. The sight of Batman's former apprentice is somewhat surprising, the ordinary Earthling doubtlessly unfit for the intensity of the battle around us but a blur of crimson and gold tells me that the boy isn't as unprotected as I originally believed him to be, the incredible velocity of The Flash's busy travels still not enough to keep him from my eyes. The two of them quickly prove to be a formidable team, the detective's use of flash bombs and other distraction-based weaponry giving his far more capable comrade more than enough breathing room to reign havoc on enemy after enemy and I am reminded of the smoothness and ease that Allen and Wayne acted with a mere decade ago.

However, even that helpful bit of mayhem is clearly just another step in the cycle, the presence of the clinching blow soon making itself felt after the three blurs in the sky finish their work in the skies. Dozens of formerly airborne Parademons continue to plummet from the sky as Batson's last three champions appear on the ground, their slight but powerful forms still managing to draw a primitive sense of fear in the beasts that abandon their former prey in order to rush at them. I know less about these ones than I would like, the hot glow in the eyes of the half-Kryptonian providing a sharp contrast to the far calmer rage that Kal-El would employ in situations like these. The eagerness in the girl's desire to smash bones and spill blood both intrigues and concerns me as I continue my own work, the handfuls of Darkseid's troops that had not been distracted by the reinforcements quickly being cut down either by Orion's men or by my own busy hands. What I have heard of Batman's newest tyro summons more annoyance than trepidation in me, the prattling of the brightly-garbed warrior irritating my ears as she uses her emerald claws to efficiently slice through one enemy after the other.

Honestly, why are so many Earthlings so insistent on believing that others want to hear them talk? It almost makes me grateful for the appearance of the black-haired half-demon, the obvious leader of this motley, though proficient crew, as he quickly silences her with a sharp glare. The quick discipline is efficient and meets its mark and it seems to define the boy as he cuts through the opponents that move to meet him, the magic in his chosen weapon causing my own mace to let out a dull hum as its spikes tear through the flesh of my one, remaining enemy. His order to cut down the damage generated by the Parademons' explosive retreat is soft but quickly followed, the detonations brought about by the boom tubes quickly contained by the work of the two Green Lanterns and through his own telekinesis.

It is almost jarring to find the battle ending so quickly and emphatically, the cheers of my erstwhile comrades already sounding out throughout the city as the seven soldiers make their way towards me. I ignore the infuriatingly cheeky grin on the face of the female Green Lantern as the leader greets me with an even nod of his head.

"Sorry it took us so long to show up, Hawkman."

I allow myself a slight smile as I slide my mace back into the scabbard strapped to the wings across my back, the mystic electricity that empowers the Nth metal still crackling from the previous activity.

"No problem at all," I respond. "Much as I would have said had we fought together against The Sinestro Corps, your work is better late than never."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay. So I didn't shave off as much time off the last late delivery as I hoped to. Still, I'm a busy man, damn it! Quite frankly, these things would come out a lot quicker if somebody just paid me to do it. So how's about it, DC? Care to give me a chance? I mean, it can't be any worse than what Judd Winick brings to the table on a monthly basis! I mean, you let Countdown go for 52 weeks straight! You tellin' me I can't do better than that?

Erhm. Well, enough pointless fantasizing, I suppose. Once again, I wish I could bring some potent conversation about the world of comics but, honestly, I can't really think of anything to say. I'm still waiting to see what DC does with Stephanie as Batgirl, Spider-Man seems to be running around in circles (which is pretty hard to do for a book that comes out three times a month) and I think the Avengers have been fighting The Hood for about seven years now. Seriously, the sheer amount of emo-laced arguing in that book is making me long for the days when I still watched Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place.

The original shows, of course. Please, girl, don't even get me started with that revamped crap.

And. . . maybe I should just move on with the next issue preview.

* * *

_Issue #86 Preview_

Hawkman! Orion! The armies of Apokolips! Stephanie Brown wondering how to turn giant hellhounds into Chicken McNuggets with the aid of Apokoliptian firepits! It's either a night at my former college dormitory or a balls-to-the-wall attempt to keep Darkseid from unleashing untold devastation upon countless planets. Find out the answer in the next installment of _The Misfits_. . . Grouch-Based Warfare. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	86. GrouchBased Warfare

Issue #86

Grouch-Based Warfare

_New Genesis – Military Cordon Bunker Designate B7-30_

Even seven months after the horrific fact, very little information could be gleaned from how the few remaining superheroes that had managed to weather the initial storm of the so-called Yellow Lanterns could manage to hold the lines when so many of their fellow compatriots had quickly been decimated by the army created by Sinestro and The Silver Coyote. Titans Tower had been the first to fall, the haven for teenage superheroes crumbling to the ground less than an hour into the full-scale assault with Dodds Manor and The Watchtower falling soon after. Seven of China's Great Ten had been drawn and quartered, their bodies placed on display to suppress the bravery of the country's grieving citizens. Checkmate cells were ripped asunder throughout the world, the world's strongest militaries were quickly rendered impotent and nearly any other possible form of resistance soon found themselves knuckling under the raw power of The Sinestro Corps.

So, one may ask, exactly how did Earth manage to hold on until the arrival of reinforcements from afar? Or at least manage to put up as much of a resistance as it could?

Many believed it was because of Carter Hall.

While those such as Donna Troy, Dick Grayson, Scandal Savage and their many comrades chose to persevere by striking from the shadows and taking what victories they could, the former Thangaarian police officer and longtime member of the Justice Society of America made no qualms about challenging the invading legions whenever he chose. He had first seen to the safety of the people of St. Roch's of course, the small suburb of New Orleans that he had come to call his home well-aware of the consequences of enduring calamities that were completely out of their control, but it wasn't long at all before he turned the knowledge he had gained from centuries spent on the battlefield onto the monsters that had been responsible for the grisly death of his only love. The actions brought about by his calculated vengeance, his vicious attacks of small regiments of Manhunters or Sinestro Corps members that came too close to his aviary soon drew other cut off heroes: people like Michael Holt, Zatanna Zatara and Victor Stone, who were eager to follow Hawkman's example. It was that interference that kept Hunter Zolomon from turning his whole attention towards the Amazons in Themyscira, prevented Leokar Kurkosaw from executing the Teen Titans thanks to a daring break-in of Alcatraz, and even tempted Edgar Cizko to call for an 100 million dollar reward for whoever could deliver the Thangaarian's heart to his dinner table (with an extra 10 million in it if it still happened to be beating).

But Carter Hall remained among the living.

Because he knew how to win.

"Pretty bloody likely that Darkseid just pulled this move to see what you guys had up your sleeves," Carter heard The Black Dog grumble out, the de facto leader of the makeshift squad striding alongside him. The words were spoken with a well-hewn roughness and familiarity and he hardly needed his phenomenal eyesight to see both the familiar, determined flame not only in the boy's eyes but also within the simmering thoughts of the youthful warriors that accompanied him on the trip down the long, underground corridor leading to the commander's chamber. Having abandoned his enormous war helm and harness in the makeshift armory, the usually winged warrior now looked plain and unimpressive, or at least as unimposing as six feet, four inches, and 205 pounds of almost total muscle could be.

"It was a necessary tell," Hawkman finally replied, his authoritative tone not enough to stifle the mild annoyance that had quickly swept over the countenance of the black-haired half-demon. "Darkseid knows enough of war to realize that we could not allow New Genesis to become a battlefield if we wished to concentrate our efforts on retrieving The Anti-Life Equation. Quite frankly, the knowledge of what we have at our disposal is information we can afford to lose."

"Not to mention that the fact that he used his Parademons could very well mean that he hasn't been able to fully harness the power of the equation," added Donna Troy, the honorary Amazon easily keeping pace with both Carter and Lloyd in the impromptu walk-and-talk. "Perhaps we're beating ourselves up for nothing."

"Well, that does tend to be one of our specialty subjects," The Flash couldn't help but blurt out, the speedster feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the comparatively slow pace he had been asked to tolerate and the cramped conditions of the underground hollow of rock and hard clay. "'Cause, hey, we know it's not a super-special-awesome team-up without a bit of bitching and whining."

"Be that as it may," Carter interrupted, the stoic officer always eager to muffle such unnecessary occasions. "Allow me to thank all of you for coming here as quickly as you could. For all his good intentions, I recognize that William is hardly the most organized of taskmasters."

"It's quite all right, Mister Hall," Kara calmly replied, the half-Kryptonian trying to be as subtle as she could while swerving her thin frame around her comrades in order to briefly grasp her boyfriend's hand. The best she could manage was a quick brush of her fingers across his forearm without it looking completely awkward but the quick smile he flashed back at her was reward enough. "This is our fight just as much as it is yours."

"Oh, indubitably," Stephanie quickly chimed in, the thin veil of good humor not hiding her tension in the least. "I mean, there's nothing I enjoy more than saving the feathers of a guy who played pinball with Batsie's brain." A good percentage of those around her were already glaring but, as usual, she was far too stubborn to care. "Hey! How's about I beat you about the head with a grandfather clock so we can all feel more at home?"

Needless to say, the reactions to such a pointed barb varied from person to person. While Donna and Kara seemed to keep their responses to themselves, Nightwing looked ready to suck in his own teeth while pulling his own lips in a tight hiss and The Flash suddenly seemed hard pressed to resist bringing his fingers up to relieve the sudden tension in his temples. The unwavering glare that Hawkman gave to the young Green Lantern in response ultimately caused Kyle to begin to move forward in order to break up whatever was to come but a somewhat familiar tingle in his head quickly told him to lay off.

"Is the commander up ahead?" Lloyd asked gruffly, the faint glint of silver that seemed to linger in his eyes after employing his telepathy already beginning to fade. After taking the time to receive Hawkman's nod, Lloyd moved forward to take point. "Right then, kids. Let's just leave the birdies to it, shall we?"

Nobody seemed to be too anxious to dispute the suggestion and they continued to move forward, the several seconds of relative silence soon leaving Carter and Stephanie mostly on their own. The pair of stubbornly strong wills clashed almost eagerly as the two warriors stared one another down, neither even considering the idea of moving a physical or metaphorical inch.

"Bruce's disciples were never known for their subtlety," Hawkman coldly countered, his avian, black eyes seemingly trying to bore a hole through Stephanie's relaxed facade. "That being said, do you have issues with working with me, young lady?"

"Oh, you bet your ruffled feathers I do," Robin hissed back. "I mean, why should I run the risk of you dropping the ball on this? Lord knows what can happen when somebody else has to pick it up, right?"

Decades of dealing with subordinate officers and unruly soldiers was enough to keep Hawkman from advancing on the seditious Green Lantern though the familiar but still intolerable glare resonating from the woman's face still managing to nick at his forbearances. "Let's not beat around the bush now, shall we?" he asked in a droll manner. "You take issue with my agreement to tamper with Batman's memories during the matter with Arthur Light. Though I acknowledge and respect the loyalty you show for him, allow me to assure you that I will not apologize for my actions, not to Bruce and certainly not to you."

It was as if the Thangaarian had literally gone to search for the one thing that would have angered Robin the most and it showed. The formerly cold glare in Stephanie's eyes was quickly replaced by an angry flash of her pale blue eyes as the tips of her ears turned red.

"And you really think that I'm going to let you get away with something like that? It's people like you that leave behind the garbage that people like me have to clean up!"

"Is that how you define the events that led to the JSA discovering Light's broken body in the ruins of Star City?" Carter quickly countered. "Or perhaps the desiccated corpses of the Yellow Lanterns that littered the streets of Gotham after The Spectre's rampage? It seems that your group is the most likely perpetrators of such offenses and yet all of you have not been asked to publically answer for them."

Left in the face of the incoming logic, Stephanie's angry words were somehow subdued into an angry growl. Of course, never being one to avoid pressing a possible advantage, Hawkman continued on.

"Do not mistake me, child of Batman. That work would have certainly been the path that I would have chosen had I been given the opportunity to take it. In fact, I still believe you robbed me of the opportunity to bloody my hands with those monsters. However, I am a soldier and an officer of the law and part of my job is to withhold my desires in order to meet the needs of the whole rather than my own. And, as a fellow soldier, I demand that you do the same."

Hawkman found himself almost surprised to see the color in Robin's ears and eyes quickly shift inward, the woman's modest flush of embarrassment accompanying her as she looked down to the ground. "He's. . . he's not my father," the suddenly reserved Green Lantern almost whispered while stubbing her right foot against a small mound of terracotta, the timid confession throwing Carter Hall off far more than any threats of revenge could have managed. Finding himself suddenly reminded of another headstrong woman who tended to throw herself into whatever she did, the usually hardened warrior found himself moving forward to grasp the girl's shoulders in his strong and steady palms.

"Well, considering the strength of your loyalty, I would safely say that Bruce's loss is far greater than yours," he suggested, the proposal causing the young fighter to look back up to him like an anxious child. The familiar response threatened to make him smile but he quickly subdued it as he released his grip on Stephanie before making his way towards the commander's chambers, the sound of rushed footsteps behind him providing sound proof that he had managed to work his way out of a potential problem. His relief ratcheted even higher as he entered the room where the girl's companions awaited them, the precious lack of anger or thirst for confrontation in the eyes of the his erstwhile comrades imbuing him with the possibility that he had not signed on for a fool's mission.

"Well, I trust that the both of you have managed to settle your pointless debate," the second child of Darkseid grumbled out in greeting, the brooding man who occupied the chair behind the prominent metal desk that sat in the middle of the expansive planning room running his large, weathered right hand through his bushy though short cut red hair. It was an attempt to relieve the anger that seemed to constantly rumble in his chest, a cold rage that the adopted student of Highfather Izala had struggled with even before he had been sent to New Genesis as a gesture of peace between the two seemingly continuously warring societies. "Perhaps now we can begin to discuss what we have all come here to do."

"Gee, Orion. It's nice to see you too, old buddy," The Flash stepped in with his usually fast and casual manner while leaning his firm but lanky frame against the western wall of the room, the scarlet-garbed speedster letting out a chuckle as the former Justice Leaguer responded with a quick glare.

"Yeah, you think that he would have been used to all the drama," Kyle Rayner added with a stage whisper, the former Ion quite happy to share Wally's punishment. As unnecessary as it all was, the brief round of bickering was a familiar role for all three gentlemen and even Orion found himself suddenly struggling to maintain his irritation.

"To think that I had nearly forgotten how exasperating the lot of you could be," Orion mumbled back for all to hear, the mild tetchiness laced in his observation indicating that he was willing to endure the insult. "However, I must thank you for the assistance you provided against Darkseid's forces as well as for agreeing to work with us on this. As Batson has most likely told you already, we need all the help we can get. My father's acquisition of the Anti-Life Equation is a threat to everything that lives, particularly to all of us, and it is of the utmost importance that we retrieve it before Darkseid is capable of putting it to its full use. A weapon of such power must be placed under the reins of those who are capable of wielding it for the good of the cosmos."

"So we've been told," The Black Dog said while taking a seat in the chair opposite of Orion's. "However, I would be more interested in how you propose that we take on an entire planet that knows that we're going to be showing up on their doorstep."

Orion remained calm as every eye in the room came to look upon him, the hero of New Genesis taking in both the attention and the tension that accompanied it with a familiar ease. "Though it is true that Darkseid's capital is an impressive stronghold, it can be momentarily overcome with enough determination and the proper strategy." His long fingers were quick to loom over a terminal installed within his desk, the quick punching of buttons on the nearby keyboard accompanying the otherwise stark, silver table soon generating a three-dimensional image of Darkseid's chief fortress and the dangerous landscape around it. "My forces will start the infiltration by employing our Boom Tube technology to arrive at the northern lava fields, our sudden arrival forcing my father to devote at least a sizeable portion of his army in order to prevent a direct assault on his holdings. I would have hoped for a more advantageous location to begin with but, unfortunately, it is the only portion of my father's base that is open for such a mass influx of troops."

"Putting yourself as bait on the hook," Nightwing fired back, the thickness in his voice echoing his concern with the risky proposal. "There's no way that somebody as smart as Darkseid isn't going to see that coming."

"It is a sacrifice that must be made," Orion replied with impressive adamancy, his tone leaving no room for further dissent. "While we do what we can to force Apokolips' hand, Batson's soldiers and the bulk of the Thangaarian militia will make their drop from the eastern flame pits with New Cronus and New Genesis transport ships allowing you to safely make it down to the surface without the aid of boom tubes." The moving diagram floating in the center of the room quickly indicated the intended paths of travel as a brief smattering of blue lights moved westward into the tower representing Darkseid's capital while dueling waves of blue and crimson red struggled against each other on the adjacent side. "I have been assured by Batson that several of you have the ability to sense the location of The Anti-Life Equation and it will then be up to you to retrieve it and bring it back to New Genesis."

"Sooooo, just as I make sure I understand this," Kara began while giving an understandably uneasy look at the hard light image above her head. "We're basically doing a mostly blind run into the galaxy's most dangerous base stations while being hopelessly outnumbered by Rao alone knows what while hoping that you guys stay alive long enough to make certain that we don't get killed?"

Orion could only supply a quick but firm frown, the idea of shrugging his shoulders or exhibiting some other form of casual dismissal absolutely out of the question. "I recognize that it is hardly the most appealing of ideas but it is the best we have," he confessed quickly, his words doing little to summon the hope and good fortune that he probably could have used at this stage of the game. "In fact, the only things we know for certain are that we will encounter a great deal of resistance and that our failure will bring about a war that would endanger countless lives."

"Well, I suppose we can take comfort in the fact that we know what we're looking for and where it's going to be," Donna provided with a bit more optimism while calmly taking a seat in the chair to Lloyd's right. "After all, there's no way that somebody as proud as Darkseid would entrust something as important as this to anyone but himself."

"It is a small comfort," The Black Dog agreed while interlocking his short fingers. "Although, if you don't mind my saying so, that was a rather interesting way of wording what we're apparently here to do."

"What do you mean?" Orion asked back. The inquiry was tinted with a mixture of curiosity and mild accusation that Lloyd couldn't help but focus on for just a moment, The Misfits' second-in-command raising his bushy, black eyebrows for a moment while rubbing the stubble along his chin with his small, weathered fingers.

"Well, I was made to understand that we're here to wrangle up The Anti-Life Equation so it can be destroyed." Lloyd calmly pointed out, his response quickly forcing a bit of the tension in Orion's face to slip out and show itself. "Now, I'm all for defending truth and beauty and puppies and all that but, given what you apparently want us to do with your poppa's new toy, I'm inclined to believe that you and my boss may be having a disagreement about what needs to be done here."

Orion's response was swift and voluble. "I have told you already that I am grateful to your planet's guardian for providing us with this necessary assistance!" he roared while raising himself to his feet, the intimidation brewing from his muscular, six-foot-six frame soon quickly and impressively dominating the fairly cramped quarters. "However, it is my people that are being asked to forfeit their lives for this mission's success. It is the right of New Genesis to take control of this weapon and bring it to a noble use!"

"And it's my right to say that I'm not going to let that happen," The Black Dog coolly countered, his even temperament but stark determination causing Orion to fix him with a cold glower. "And, just so we're clear, my team is putting their lives on the line for the safety of those that Darkseid would want to add to his hit list, not to be a part of some centuries old snit fest."

"Agreed," Donna Troy quickly added, her declaration cutting off whatever dispute that was quickly rising toward Orion's lips. "Our leader may not be as knowledgeable about Darkseid's deeds as I would have liked but I do share his desire for refusing to be a puppet."

Orion suddenly found himself needing a bit of time in order to simmer his rage and allow himself to speak clearly. No one bothered to count the seconds but it was long enough for Lloyd to turn to the former Wonder Girl and give her a brief, inquisitive stare. Turning her eyes to meet it, Donna replied with an amused tilt of her eyebrows before the both of them turned back towards their assigned superior officer.

"Very well. I will agree with your conditions," the youngest son of Darkseid finally proclaimed, the words coming out as if being forced through solid granite. "The boom tubes will be prepared for en bloc use in six hours time. Use that span to examine the information we have retaining to Darkseid's warren and plan yourselves accordingly. My advisors shall be on hand if you have any further questions and to relay your instructions back to me."

"Much obliged, Commander Orion," Lloyd said in a carefully neutral manner as he rose back to his feet, the young leader soon safely flanked as Donna rose as well. "You have my word that we will do whatever we can to bring Darkseid to justice."

The leader of the armies of New Genesis let out a grunt that bluntly informed everyone within earshot that the meeting was concluded. Well conditioned to follow such wordless gestures, Batson's team quickly bunched together before making their way out of Orion's quarters.

"I'm really hoping that I'm not the only one who realizes that we're most likely running right into a trap here." Kyle finally said once he was fairly certain that his former comrade in the Justice League was safely out of earshot.

"Decidedly not," Lloyd replied, the half-demon stepping aside in order to allow Hawkman to lead them to the briefing room. "However, we Misfits tend to have a policy when it comes to traps."

"We spring them with a smile," Stephanie concluded the statement with a sudden bounce to her step. "Damn it, that was the one line that I liked from Mannequin Skywalker throughout the whole first trilogy and Lucas had the balls to cut it!"

"And yet they kept all the talk about midichlorians," Wally added, his role in the familiar conversation quickly assumed. "Gotta admit that I was surprised seeing you take Orion to the task there, boss."

The Black Dog briefly swerved his neck around in order to properly respond to his questioner. "Well, just because one side wants to bring on the nasty doesn't mean that the other team's strictly on the side of angels." He stopped for a moment to peruse his options, the grunt of agreement Nightwing offered in response almost forcing him to break into a smile. "Haven't had much time to tour the sights around here but it looks to me that the people of New Genesis are living quite high on the metaphorical hog."

"It is true that the hierarchical socioeconomic structure of New Genesis is hardly the most agreeable example that I've ever seen," Hawkman allowed as he continued to move forward with long, even strides. "However, one must also recognize that this society, at least in this instance, is easily the lesser of two evils."

"I can agree with that," Donna chimed in, her suddenly agreeable nature drawing an intrigued stare from Nightwing that she couldn't help but briefly notice. "So let's take some time and see what we can do to make certain we all come back alive."

"Bloody right," Lloyd concurred, his own steady pace continuing while Donna slowed herself down. Finding herself reminded of several familiar faces, Donna pursed her lips in amusement as she allowed many of the others to pass her by until only she and a certain domino-masked vigilante remained behind.

"Okay, be honest," Nightwing said softly, his face inches away from Donna's in the interest of keeping his activities quiet. "How many points did you give him?"

The raven-haired pilot of New Chronus leaned her head to one side as she gave the old practice a bit of thought. "Well, he definitely lost a few with letting Orion talk. . . " she began while continuing to ponder. "Still, he did let Hawkman deal with Robin and he eventually did give the big guy what for when he needed to. . . I'm giving him a solid 22."

Grayson couldn't help but gape. "Geez, Troy! That's more than I ever got until Vic and K'ory joined the team. I swear you're going soft."

"Well, he doesn't go around wearing pixie shorts now, does he?"

"Ha ha," Nightwing said with a scowl before moving to follow Donna as she walked and laughed down the extensive underground tunnel.

* * *

_Six hours and 22 minutes later - Izala Trooper Transport Ship 5-B _

Wally couldn't help but hope in vain that the trip down would be the worst of the day's troubles. The conditions in the cramped vessel were stifling from the start, the scents of sweat, fear, engine oil, and nervous trepidation providing a foul bouquet that continued to push through his unwilling nostrils with each passing moment that crept ever so slowly through his hypercharged senses. The trip through the upper atmosphere quickly threw physics into the equation as well, the craft jostling and lurching to and fro as it struggled to adjust to the increasing temperatures and the greater force and pressure that gravity was exerting upon it. The tremors, in turn, soon found a companion in the blunted sound of laser fire singing around them as they moved closer to their destination, The Flash's inhalations and exhalations becoming quicker and less useful with each passing moment.

"I really need to learn to fly."

Nightwing replied with an amused sigh and a knowing glance. "Honestly, Wally. You need to find something new to obsess over."

The Flash quickly turned away from the hypocrisy of his longtime friend, the vigilante's scarily calm countenance creeping the speedster out even more so than usual. He quickly preferred to focus his attention on the several dozen Thangaarian troopers that accompanied them within the 12 foot-by-12 foot portside hangar of the ship, the tense and sometimes terrified expressions on the faces of the winged troopers somehow becoming a great deal more comforting. _Of course_, _it was only natural that people more suited to fighting war from the air would be a bit more nervous about a mostly ground-based battle_, he thought_. Or at least that's what he read in those books that Batman always forced him to rea_d. . .

"I mean, I can run faster than the speed of light on a good day but you're telling me I can't fly? I mean, you're supposed to be the big Rhodes Scholar so you tell me what the hell is up with that!"

The staccato crash of heated plasma striking the ship's superstructure kept Dick from responding as quickly as he would have liked, his current attire and circumstances forcing him to work to adjust his usually stable balance. "Buddy, you've complained about this since the days you had trouble breaking the sound barrier. Just accept that it ain't gonna happen. You're stuck on the ship waiting for us to land so just breathe it out."

Wally almost surprised himself by trying to momentarily follow his friend's suggestion, the urge to jabber and ramble momentarily stifled as they continued to move forward. "Sure you're going to be okay down there?" he asked, the urge to worry about somebody else suddenly becoming quite appealing. "The place isn't exactly built for human folk."

Nightwing replied by hefting his left arm upward until his hand hovered in front of his handsome face, the vantage point allowing his eyes to take in the unusual gauntlet wrapped around the sinewy limb. The glove was just a small portion of the bone-colored armor wrapped around his head, arms, legs, and torso, the mystic metal occasionally glimmering with the eldritch energy that escaped from the joints of the connected gear and making the usually shadowed vigilante feel somewhat like a well-protected night light. The equipment may have looked bulky and cumbersome but proved to be surprisingly light once he managed to get everything on, the mild handicaps to his flexibility a small price to pay for the added protection that the Mother Box gear provided.

"I've been told that this should keep me hale and hearty and Kyle and Steph confirmed it," the longtime detective said before moving to lean back against the metal walls once again. "Probably don't want to see Naomi's folks wearing this thing but I suppose it'll do for now."

The Flash raised his eyebrows at that, the somewhat awkward aside giving him some more heartening ammunition. "I don't know. I'd probably keep it around if I was in your shoes," he said with as much brightness as he could offer. "'Cause if what's down there doesn't kill you then I'm sure some other fine folks will try to volunteer. I mean, ya got Lloyd, Babs if she ever finds out that you're dating again. . . Naomi's parents if they ever find out about your sexual history."

"Shut up," Nightwing finally snapped back, the tension finally getting to him just a bit. "Damn it, why do I always let you mooch off my chill whenever you start getting butterflies?"

"Sorry, buddy," Wally finally offered with a genuine note of sympathy. "You know I hate being cooped up like this. I mean, I can't help but think we're just waiting for those doors to open up and something's going to be there to burn us all to a cinder. Sort of like our own, live-action _Saving Private Ryan_."

"Yeah, we really never should have watched that movie," Nightwing agreed with an understanding nod. "Nobody should ever have to suffer through Vin Diesel trying to act."

"Hey, I thought he was okay in that!" The Flash squawked back, the short round of chuckling his old friend offered in response managing to calm his nerves down just a little bit more. "I mean, I know I've been through this time and time again but. . . how does anybody ever get ready for something like this. Knowing that you could just lose everything you had before you even see it coming?"

"THE MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR IS WAITING TO TAKE YOU AWAY!" bellowed the disturbingly familiar voice of the person assigned to keep the ship and its neighbors as safe as possible throughout the treacherous descent. "WAITING TO TAKE YOU !"

Now it was The Flash's turn to sigh while fixing his eyes to the floor of the overcrowded cabin, his head shaking back and forth as his red hair rubbed against the upper contours of his mask. "Of course, I suppose I could just go insane like some people I know."

Nightwing, on the other hand, had something else on his mind. "We're surrounded by a wall of duranium that's got to be at least five feet thick. How the hell can her singing bust its way through that?"

Another jostling of the ship, this time from the stern, prompted The Flash to nearly stumble while the youthful Green Lantern patrolling outside the craft let out a string of colorful curses in a variety of different languages. "We don't really ask about the how when it comes to her anymore," he said with a slight note of jocular misery. "Now it's more of a matter of wondering why it didn't happen sooner."

Another interruption got in the way of Nightwing's inevitable reply, this one in the form of the pilot announcing over the craft's intercom system that they would be making landfall in twenty seconds. "Well, even under the circumstances, I'm glad to say I've got the two of you by my side on this."

The Flash couldn't help but let out a smirk since a bright smile would have been laughably inappropriate.

"Tired of The Justice League already?"

Another forward lurch, this one stemming from the anti-grav landing gear firing itself to life, gave Dick enough time to stifle his own grin and replace it with a sneer of his own.

"Naw. I just didn't wanna embarrass myself in front of the professionals."

The prying open of the hangar doors was blindingly fast and the hell that appeared before their eyes only made the sudden change of scenery that much more jarring. Both the two Earthlings as well as the dozens of Thangaarians moved to escape their voluntary prison with all the urgency that military discipline could provide, the instinctual urge to remain alive providing a powerful motivation to garner more control of their unstable surroundings. A barrage of indigo-colored laser fire attempted to burn the flesh from their bones before they could even make it down or away from the ramp, the opening salvo of a legion of bloodthirsty Parademons adding more heat and friction to the already stifling surroundings. However, the concentrated portion of the blistering offensive was quickly ground to a halt by an enormous, spectral image that shielded Wally and his fellow soldiers from harm, the squat, mustachioed construct rushing straight into the fray while continuing to swing a stumpy-looking sledgehammer up and down in a relentless and choppy fashion.

"Dododododododododo! Dododododododododo!" The Flash heard Robin warble out while she floated behind her 8-bit instrument of destruction, the fair-haired Green Lantern doubtlessly feeling quite clever while seeing her idiotic idea bear a surprisingly healthy supply of fruit. Of course, it didn't take long for the Gothamite to quickly switch from defense to offense once her noble duty had been completed, the former street urchin quickly producing her familiar energy claws before diving into the fray with her usual calculated viciousness.

And she was obviously not alone in her desire to do some harm and misbehaving. A noisy _HAAAARUNK! _coming from his left tempted the speedster to turn around in order to catch the sight of what appeared to be a rampaging Oliphant (_Not an elephant, of course, 'cause if he heard that then Kyle would never let him hear the end of it)_ do its own double-duty as it protected another large collection of Thangaarian soldiers trying to make landfall while simultaneously trampling a litany of Parademons under its massive hooves and batting fliers aside with its mighty tusks. The violent crashes of the battlefield continued to swamp into his ears as he caught a flurry of jagged-tooth demons attempting to surround Donna in order to keep her from moving forward, his longtime friend moving quickly even from his perspective as she simultaneously warded off the incoming fire with her mystic bracelets while using the fists that accompanied them to offer up her own fair share of damage. Meanwhile, the flickering of silver and red lights seemed to dance high above his head, the steady counterfire provided by Kara and Lloyd doing well to bottle up Darkseid's troopers and prevent the full force of Darkseid's first wave from attacking en masse.

It seemed that everything was going according to plan.

"_OI! WEST! GET THAT ARSE OF YOURS IN GEAR!"_

Well, except for him, of course. Still, if the two dozen Parademons he beat down on his first pass may have indicated, The Fastest Man Alive was more than willing to try and make up for lost time.

_Linda, Iris, Jai. . . just wait for me a little longer_, he called out past the stars while continuing to do what he did best. _I'll be home soon._

* * *

She could still remember the sounds. Not one specific noise, resonance or reverberation, of course, but the maelstrom of her hammering heart, the rumble of the magma and rock underneath her feet, and the scraping sound of her guts being clawed out with every fearful moment. The stale, horrible heat was just as familiar too; the broiling heat that sucked at the salt from her sweat as it slowly trickled from her head and chin. Her body shouldn't have allowed her to be as weak as she had those scant few years ago but the scent of Lyla Micheals' blood had hung too strong in her senses, her guilt of being responsible for the death of someone simply because she was too weak quickly making her easy prey for the warriors that were there waiting for her arrival. The dull but determined scarlet glow of Darkseid's seemingly empty eyes suddenly threatened to dominate her mind once again, the monster sifting through everything she was however he pleased, taking all he wanted and doing his best to destroy the rest.

On the other hand, it had been a long time since then. Kara proved that as she dove unheeded into the second wave of Parademons. The dim signatures of magic stemming from the creature's melee weapons occasionally raked against her skin, briefly slicing through her stern muscle and tissue but the incidents were easily recovered from and more due to fateful accident than to being overwhelmed. In return, the damage she brought upon her foes with her fists proved to be far more lasting, the beasts she couldn't break with her own limbs falling prey to the scorching blasts of heat exploding from her eyes. She knew that The Flash would be keeping a fraction of an eye out for her as she led the forward rush into the blood-drenched throng, just as he always seemed to do, but the dangerous anticipation of what was to come began to dominate her. She knew that he wanted to see her rage and she desperately wanted to show that monster what her fury could do.

The faint feeling of the ground trembling beneath her feet managed to bring the half-Kryptonian out of at least a portion of her determined bloodlust, the accompanying sound of heavy footsteps somehow reminding her of Zor-el's old racing beasts that she would watch him ride about the grounds as her mother gripped her gently by the hand. The horror-laced death cry of a Thangaarian warrior focused her even further as she flicked her sights westward to the sight of dozens of vicious beasts dashing towards them, each of them standing at least seven feet tall even while hunched over on their four, massive feet. Their girthy, muscular legs allowed the monsters to rush into the skirmish with blindingly rabid speed, their eager maws quick to try and tear into the flesh of their prey. The scent of the hunger-laced saliva dripping from the fangs of the many incoming Hounds all but forced her to bat aside the two Parademons that attempted to stop her and rush to meet the new threat, her speed still not enough to save the previously screaming warrior whose torso and backbone had seemingly been crushed by the hellhound's large jaws as it clamped into its prey. Black blood was quick to mix with the red blood that had already soaked the poor soul's feathers as she avenged the unfortunate soldier, the sturdy punch to the beast's neck packing enough force to nearly rip the beast's head straight off of its massive shoulders.

She managed to put three more Hounds to rest before she could all but hear the cry of the reaper, the eager overseers of war always willing to claim more souls left to casually fester upon a soon-to-be forgotten battlefield. More Thangaarians began to fall as their odds quickly grew less and less in their favor as more and more Hounds and Parademons made their presences felt, the blood and sweat and death and cracking of bones and the crash of metal against flesh and bone against sinew forcing Kara to shut her ears to keep herself sane. It was all enough to force her to make certain that Nightwing's heart was still beating, that Robin was still cracking her silly jokes, and that the unmistakable _woosh _that accompanied Wally's travels could still be seen and heard.

"_Where are you?" _she asked while wrapping her slim hands across a Hound's bile-stained mandible, the strength in her fingers allowing her to snap the strong jawbone as if it were tissue paper. _"I need to hear you."_

"'_M right here, Kara," _the welcome voice in her head replied, The Black Dog's gentle tones laced with just the slightest trace of his own fear. _"Not leavin' ya. . . even if you did tell me to piss off back on New Cronus."_

Kara supposed that she could have taken hostility or dread from the response but all she could was let out a sigh of relief, a bizarre circumstance indeed given the frenzied activities around her. _"Do we need to send anybody over to your side?"_

"_We're still good," _Lloyd replied from his own vantage point on the other side of the gradually growing battlefield, the half-demon doubtlessly putting his saber and energy stores to good use as he moved to face his share of Darkseid's shock troopers. _"'S just as Carter and Donna figured. . . they're comin' at us in stiff segments to try and catch us unawares. We just have to take the newcomers down before the next group makes their presence felt."_

It was rather odd to Kara that she suddenly found herself with some room to think, the surrounding beasts around her abruptly becoming much less of a challenge as she moved to protect Nightwing and a gaggle of winged troopers who had been pushed back to her section of the battlefield. She remained silent as she grabbed hold of an unfortunate Parademon by its right leg, its femur cracking loudly in the strength of her grip before she began to swing her body in a circle. The move may have seemed unorthodox but it didn't stop her from using her unwilling weapon to bowl over dozens of enemies in only a handful of seconds and making them easy prey for Robin or any number of the Thangaarian troopers still willing to shed a little blood.

"_We're managing to thin things out here on the eastern perimeter," _she finally declared as several of the once-eager Hounds dashed away from her in search of more vulnerable targets. _"Now that I've got my eyes open, I can see that Steph is pushing the opponent's rear guard forward while The Flash keeps bottling them in."_

"_Good to hear," _Kara's lover reported back. _"Troy and I are taking good care of ourselves as well and Rayner and Hall's men are helping cut Darkseid's forces in two. Like I said, it's all about waiting for the next round. . ."_

_It always is_, Kara couldn't help but realize, her dark memories of the Lord of Apokolips still threatening to pollute her mind and keep her from moving. The honey-haired warrior hoped that the next question doubtlessly on Lloyd's thoughts would go on unasked but she knew better. Perhaps, she thought, it was just her own damn fault for falling in love with a man who asked far too many questions.

"_You still ready for this, Kara?"_

She knew she could have dodged it but she didn't.

"_I have to be ready." _The handful of Parademons that remained suddenly became the least of her concerns as she led the charge on her side of the field, the many Thangaarians that remained either flying or dashing alongside her while swathing a blood-soaked path of their own. She barely stopped moving as she sent another grey-skinned beast crashing to the ground with a right-footed thrust kick that landed firmly against the Parademon's abdomen, the tempered metal armor protecting the creature's lower chest muscles shattering from the impact like porcelain. _"Whatever he wants from me is something I don't want and I have to show him that I'm not going to let him hurt me again. The only way I can do that is to face this."_

Lloyd was kind enough to allow a few seconds to let her confident thoughts sink in, the knowledge that the conviction came from her own beliefs rather than anyone else's filling her with a bolster of confidence that she somehow knew she would need.

"_And, if all else fails, I'll kill the stone-faced bastard myself. After all, nobody messes with my woman."_

Now Kara couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"_Way to be a troglodyte, sweetie."_

* * *

Meanwhile, nearly 20 miles above the desperate quest, a lone figure observed the unfolding tale with his usual, equitable manner, the cold void provided by the surrounding blackness of space not affecting him in the least. Settled comfortably within the confines of his Mobius Chair, the New God had the opportunity to visit any point in time and space but now, at this moment, chose to keep his impartial gaze locked upon the history unfolding below. Perhaps it was an all too imperfect temptation that he had fallen to, the desire to witness an event so clustered with the shapers of so much of what was to come, that the momentary forsaking of his search for greater knowledge beyond his own could be deemed acceptable. After all, not even he could possibly tally the way that time and circumstances could twist and turn one way or another thanks to the hectic activities taking place on the reeking surface of Darkseid's home world. Just one alteration or unexpected event would create a tapestry of alterations to what he had seen before and that certainty was something that would continue to drive him through his eternal analyses and fleeting frustrations.

For he was Metron and that was what he was created to do. It was as simple as that.

Yes, there were some instances in which he would ultimately succumb to the desire to interfere, the downfall of the power-crazed Hal Jordan and his choice to prevent Krona from escaping his chronal prison being two of the more prominent examples known by the denizens of this particular reality. However, despite his urge to wrench back the foul weapon that Darkseid had stolen from his unclenched fingers and the knowledge that countless lives would be lost if Batson's seven champions did not play their parts to perfection, he chose to remain in his usual vantage point, high above the history. It may have seemed cold and heartless to many but any perspective could change if they were able to watch life and death unfold themselves time and time again.

A six-year-old Lloyd Thomas smothered to death by the quivering hands of his own mother as tears ran down her scarred cheeks. Kara Zor-el, her mad howl ringing through the blood-soaked streets as she held the beaten corpse of Bruce Wayne to her chest as if it were her favorite doll. The soul of Stephanie Brown letting out a desperate cry, its silent plea going unheeded by the watchers of Oa as the spirit of a girl taken far too soon was quickly extinguished by the inevitability of time. Kyle Rayner falling to his own kitchen floor as Major Force caved in his head, the desperation that came with seeing the love of his life bloody and beaten leaving him with no will to fight. Darkseid letting out a ragged gasp as his life was taken from him, his centuries of dreams and ambitions reduced to ruins by a mere human who proved to a god that his will would not be overcome.

He had witnessed all of this and far more and remained still and silent throughout it all. So, as was his way, he would do the same here.

However, unlike those instances, he soon discovered that someone had chosen to join him.

"I honestly expected you to be sooner," Metron told the new arrival in his dry, impassive manner, his stark, blue eyes not leaving the scene below for a moment. "Those of your ilk are often happiest when allowed to callously oversee their doings from afar."

The familiar figure in Metron's observations responded with a dry chuckle that went completely ignored by the longtime watcher. "As if you're one to talk of such matters," the callous stranger replied before ceasing their forward travels with a sudden but graceful stop, the observer's lean frame stopping just before the apex of the Mobius Chair and a mere handful of feet from Metron's left hand. "And I will have you know that I am hardly responsible for what you have the privilege to see. Darkseid's discovery of The Anti-Life Equation was an inevitability. The only question was when he would succeed."

The pride-filled words were enough to force a response from Metron, a dry sigh escaping the lips of the ages-old New God. "And how eager you are to claim such a vital role in the events to come," he said in a somewhat mocking manner, the steeples of his fingers and thumbs coming together as he returned his full attentions to the war below. "I wonder if you have ever bothered to question why you are so capable of controlling the power you possess, particularly given what you now know of what truly fuels you."

The longtime soldier responded by briefly gritting his teeth, his everpresent anger momentarily overcoming his usually calm demeanor. "I would think the answer to be rather obvious. It is because I know that what I do is right. Conviction is my power, bystander. It always has been."

"Is it?" asked Metron, a shade of what could have been confused for intrigue mixing in with his emotionless inquiry. "Or perhaps it is because you fear that you will be wrong."

* * *

The third wave of Darkseid's troops did not make themselves known with a blaze of laser fire or with the hungry baying broadcast from starved, rabid throats. In fact, there were only a handful among the collected regiment of Batson's champions and Hawkman's troops that could come close to seeing anything coming before it was far too late, the blurs of gray and ivory tearing through their ranks with fearsome speed and efficiency. The combination of some quick defensive measures cobbled up by Kyle and Stephanie and the stern orders of Carter Hall were barely enough to protect the Thangaarian soldiers until they could climb to the relative safety of the skies, the recent damage quickly reducing them to almost half of their original number. A quick rescue courtesy of The Fastest Man Alive kept Nightwing among the living, the all-too-human warrior soon finding himself in the relatively safe clutches of a relatively unscathed Thangaarian and left to watch as his fleet-footed acquaintance did his best to wrangle in the blindingly fast monsters.

"Troy. I don't suppose you wouldn't go and just tell me that these things aren't what I'm thinking them to be," Lloyd suggested in a surprisingly stern manner as he moved to stand back-to-back with his former nemesis, the added support allowing him to use his energy blasts and the sharp blade of the _Mugalshir_ to stave off the hazy maelstrom around him.

The distracted inheritor of New Cronus could only reply with a grunt as she batted back the thoughtless beast rushing at her at a speed several times greater than the speed of sound. "Well, that depends," she managed to get out before cracking another opponent's jaw with a stern pump kick. A quick downward slide of her trunk followed that allowed her erstwhile partner to decapitate the adversary coming in from their left. "Depends on. . ." block, punch, "on whether. . ." sharp, bone claws raking across her face, a grunt, double-ax handle, "you want to be lied to or not."

The two black-haired warriors soon found themselves enveloped by a pair of familiar blurs as Kara and Wally joined them at the center of the battlefield, the four fools that had chosen to remain rooted to the rotting rock surface of the planet doing their best to stand tall as dozens of ferocious, familiar beasts slid to a stop around them. Perhaps one could argue the point of quantity over quality when looking at the dreadful situation at hand but a single glance at the living, breathing mountains of flesh and ferocity waiting to claim their prey could easily render that point disturbingly moot.

"Doomsdays," The Flash said in exasperation. "Lots and lots of Doomsdays."

The foreboding words were soon followed up by a loud rumble of laughter rising up from just behind the swarm of slaughterers. The merrymaker soon came within sight as he rode to the forefront of the northern perimeter, his craggy, brown-skinned body perched upon the back of a hideous, slathering Hound. Adorned in green-and-yellow battle armor fashioned much like the uniforms worn by the Parademons he commanded, the tips of the monster's shaggy, black hair briefly brushed against his muscular back as he found himself overtaken by the humor spawned by the violence he had been asked to orchestrate. Though the monster's gleaming, red eyes did not hold the power and majesty earned by his father, the thirst for blood and eagerness to prove his worth provided an acceptable substitute.

"Creatures who would defy the indomitable will of the Lord of Apokolips," greeted Kalibak the Cruel, the eldest son of Darkseid briefly looking upon the troops provided for him. "Allow me to put all of you out of your wretched miseries."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Well, another two weeks (and, yes, some change but, damn it, was pooping on my parade) have passed and I still haven't made it to the comic book store. On the bright side, I fainted from blood loss for the first time ever thanks to a work-related injury! Oh, and now I'm 30 years old, which means that I'm just another step closer to that point in time when I will have to explain to whatever powers watching over us all why I chose to spend so much of my free time writing stories about partially psychotic superheroes and morally bankrupt bad guys with daddy issues. Soooooo let's just hope we're all under a forgiving eye, okay?

And, on another note, I've started playing Tales of Symphonia 2 and if anybody can tell me how I can reasonably shoehorn in a certain somewhat-ditzy blonde-haired angel into this story then please let me know. Hell, maybe Batsie and his team could just use someone who can give names to other peoples' dogs!

Or maybe she can help me write the next issue preview! I mean, ProtectorofCanon2 uses imaginary creatures as her muses so why can't I?

* * *

_Issue #87 Preview_

Well, we're nearing the halfway point and the team has finally made their way to Apokolips. Now all that's left between them and success is about a hundred Doomsdays, Kalibak, Granny Goodness and her Furies, Desaad, whatever other horrific scientific creations that Desaad has available to throw at our heroes, and that old softy Darkseid himself. Oh, and that thingamajigger that can rob anyone of their will to live and twist them into an empty, corruptible shell. Geez, maybe it is a good thing that this saga has four issues to go because this sounds like a whole lot of work! Be sure to join us in two weeks time as Billy Batson's seven, little soldiers punch the clock in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Fortune for Fools. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	87. Fortune for Fools

Issue #87

Fortune for Fools

Even through the squalls of dust-laden wind kicked up by the motion of the mêlée and the growls and screams that served as the background noise for the chaos that abound, The Black Dog still chose to take a moment to determine just where his comrades were, trying his best to anticipate when and where they would be in danger, before casting his attention towards the monsters that surrounded them. The fear he sensed in not only the minds of his colleagues but also within the tremulous thoughts of the Thangaarian warriors and police officers that accompanied them would have been palpable even without the power to sift through each and every mind he found. Still, the fact that he could feel it all allowed him to construct a painfully simple contrast with the thoughtless rage of the living monoliths of ashen skin and sinew nearly framed by sharp, jagged bone. Sweat did not drip down their brows due to fear or exhaustion nor did the stench of blood on the increasingly messy battlefield even begin to turn their stomachs.

The name "Doomsday" sounded inane to Lloyd's ears even as he heard Wally fearfully mutter the name of the beast that had once killed Earth's greatest hero in front of the eyes of the world. Of course, just as the title bequeathed to him by Mao Tenryu had given him respect and fear from those he would come across, the indelicate title of the manufactured war machines also carried a powerful stigma as well. Just as people knew of the phenomenal power of The Man of Steel and how that strength of muscle and will allowed Superman to perform feats known and documented wherever creatures drew breath so did they recognize the abomination that nearly brought that champion's life to an end and it was that constant fact that was placing varying degrees of fear and uncertainty in Kryptonian, Terran, and Thangaarian alike.

After all, if this monster could kill Kal-El, the greatest among them, then what chance did they have?

And, in case anyone was asking, Lloyd Thomas was feeling pretty good about his respective chances.

"Don't let these fiends get into your heads!" roared Donna Troy as she fearlessly glided into the thick of the battle once again, her determination to see things through doing its best to make up for the superior power and agility of her companions and allowing her to shoulder her share of the load. "This is all about Darkseid wanting to win the battle before it even starts!" she reminded her fellow soldiers as she briefly weathered a harsh scrape across her abdomen before firing back with a wicked right hook that smashed the skull of the Doomsday that had bloodied her. "Remember what we're fighting for!"

"Don't need to tell me twice!" The Black Dog yelled back through his grinding molars while summoning a golden energy bolt that he used to knock another Doomsday out of the sky. The small airborne eruptions of blood and viscera born from the beasts using their phenomenal agility to leap into the air and snatch or claw into the airborne Thangaarians was more than enough to convince him to keep an eye on his less resilient soldiers. His right hand continued to fire back as much as he could muster while his feet and left hand fended off one monster after the other, the saber trapped within his clenched fist seemingly eager to slice its way through the hide and bone of Darkseid's fearsome militia.

"Thought there was only supposed to be one of these nasty buggers," he couldn't help but point out while tucking his upper body into a quick swerve to the right as the enormous, jagged bone claws of one of the Doomsdays attempted to tear into his throat. However, his attempt to provide a swift and painful counter for his eager foe was quickly interrupted by a familiar flash of green crashing into his adversary's chest, a mighty war whoop bellowing from her lungs as she settled down on Lloyd's left. "Bloody buggerin' hell," he muttered while tossing his saber towards the momentarily unencumbered Amazon to his right. "What's witht he clown car full of 'em?"

"This is most likely Desaad's work!" Donna yelled back, the ferocity of the battle making it difficult to speak to her audience despite the close proximity. Bringing the _Mugalshir_ to bear with her own knowledge and expertise at the ready, the warrior woman employed the gleaming,s ilver saber to rip through the upper body of the beast that Lloyd had parried her way. "Dakrseid acquired Doomsday's genetic network several yeras ago and has been using his little lapdog to try to duplicate him." The raven-haired founding member of The Teen Titans grit her teeth as the formerly grievously wounded Doomsday attempted to regenerate itself. "Of course, the fact that we're still alive right now means that these things aren't nearly as dangerous as the genuine article."

"_Still seem pretty damn hazardous to my health,"_ The Flash couldn't help but throw in while phasing his way through Stephanie in order to get in front of another charging adversary, his momentary intangibility and subsequent phasing through the creature's girthy frame confusing the Doomsday long enough for the speedster to land nearly 200 successive blows before the young Green Lantern sent the blood-bathed brute hurtling away with a spiral blast of emerald energy. "_I'd probably be piddling my pants right now if my bowels weren't still catching up to the rest of me."_

_"And now we witness yet another advantage of getting your powers from some obscure pocket of space and time," _Robin observed through the shared telepathic network, the flash of energy erupting from her Oan power ring blinding many of her surrounding foes while allowing her and her comrades some precious seconds. _"Still, I think I'd rather keep what I've got. Sciency stuff like that is just profoundly overrated," _she added while plunging her recognizable energy claws through the sturdy neck muscles of the closest bad guy she could find.

_"Ya mean like a kitschy ring that looks like it could be bought from a food mart?" _The Black Dog couldn't help but ask.

_"Oh, definitely_," Lloyd's adopted little sister brightly replied, the sparkle of her white teeth looking brighter than usual with the unsightly addition of black blood dripping down her forehead. However, a quick tilt of her eyes upward noted the potential obstruction and the subsequent creation of a pair of forehead-mounted windshield wipers that removed the nuisance. _"I mean, this thing offers hypertension that money just can't buy."_

_"Boy, this brings me back to the days when I worked with people that had something valuable to say during life-or-death situations," _The Flash barked out while breaking into the proceedings, his role of straight man in this dangerous little game becoming surprisingly easier to fill after nearly a year's worth of practice. _"And why are you even here, Tweety?" _he asked before putting all the kinetic energy he could musting into firing a stiff body blow to a Doomsday's stomach that sent his target hurtling into the path of several others. _"Aren't you supposed to be helping to protect the Thangaarians?"_

_"Ohhhhh, I'm working on it!" _Stephanie whined back in quite the petulant manner. _"I just wanted to show you guys something 'cause I like you despite your achingly stupid choices of clothing."_

_"Says the chit parading around in orange battle armor and a black jumper while pretendin' to be a giant songbird," _Lloyd countered while following up Stephanie's self-generated solar flare with a scattershot of energy bolts that sent a handful of their opponents tumbling ass-over-teakettle across the ragged battleground. _"All right, Dory. What'd you want to show u. . ."_

_"THIS. . . IS. . . APOKOLIPS!!" _the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns screamed dramatically as she leaped high into the air, the force of her leap blunted only by the chin of the Doomsday who she chose to slam her knees into on her way up. As awkward as the suprisingly effective attack was though, the cumbersome impact enabled her to easily pitch herself forward through a series of forward somersaults that allowed her to pass over the fray. Then, growling as she barely escaped the outstretched arms of the several beasts that tried to bring her back down to the ground, she stretched her short limbs forward in order for her right fist to slam directly against the chin of a phenomenally disturbed and surprised Kalibak.

_Like a kid at the public swimming pool_, Lloyd thought while trying his best not to chuckle.

"DO I EVEN _WANT _TO KNOW WHAT IN HERA'S NAME THAT WAS ALL ABOUT?!" Donna asked.

"NO!" Kara, Lloyd, and Wally all quickly replied before returning to their own duties, the distraction that could have been offered by Stephanie's noisy WHEEEEEEEE as she descended back into the carnage quickly brushed aside. There were enough distractions, after all, as even their effective work did little to reduce the numbers of Kalibak's formidable subordinates and those who remained were more than eager to succeed where their predecessors had failed. Thankfully, another figure diving into the fray soon provided another hint of relief as the stern countenance of Carter Hall reentered Donna and Lloyd's sights, the old hand of war quickly settling into place at Kara's flank. His well-worn mace was already thoroughly pockmarked by indentations and stained with spackles of blood while his war helm was well marred with scratches and tears, the "beak" of the hood cracked but still managing to stay upright.

"We do not have the time to fully devote ourselves to this pointless struggle!" Hawkman growled while knocking aside another Doomsday who was a merely a half a second away from tearing through his spine, the mystic energy of the Nth metal within his weapon crackling loudly as his adversary was tossed backward by the force of the attack. "Have your team proceed to the capital, Black Dog! We will hold them here!"

"Forget about it!" The Flash cried back as he rose back to his feet, the head scissor takedown he employed to send one Doomsday crashing into two of its brethren momentarily taking him off his feet. "We're not going to have you just go and sign your own death warrant."

"_Better some of us die than all of us," _Lloyd replied in response, the harsh pronouncement tempered only slightly by the note of sadness that Wally could glean from his friend's thoughts. _"We're out of here. Flash, give the Doomsdays another run. Robin, clear us a way out of here. Rayner, you take Grayson and the rest of us will head out the long way!"_

As much as he wanted to argue against the point, his recognition of the price of failure quickly took precedence as The Flash made another sharp circle around the battlefield, his peerless speed and reflexes allowing him to harry the crowd of monsters around him while buying the winged warriors of Thangaar a smattering of precious seconds. Batson's other champions were also quick to follow their tasks as Kyle Rayner quickly flung his way westward to swoop up Nightwing before assisting Stephanie in clearing a way out through the stern of Kalibak's forces, the two Green Lanterns' dual battering rams scattering aside nearly a dozen Doomsdays and just as many Hounds as if they were bloodthirsty bowling pins. The two distractions proved to be more than enough to allow Donna, Kara, and Lloyd to bulldoze their way through the middle of the dangerous swarm, their tenacity and velocity enabling them to carve out an avenue of escape before the monsters could surround them once again. Within seconds they were winging their way towards Darkseid's fortress, their rushed movements leaving behind a trail of red dust and black granite as the fast-travelling soldiers moved closer towards their goal.

"After them!" bellowed an already-enraged Kalibak, his craggy face burned and scratched thanks to the few seconds that the loathsome cow of a Green Lantern had been able to get the drop on him. The angry-looking that now lined his face seemed to throb with each raging breath that slipped through the arid lips of Darkseid's eldest child as he made his way towards the center of the battlefield, the tremors set off by the footsteps of over 100 angry Doomsdays momentarily drowning out even his own heavy trotting. "You were foolish to believe that you could claim victory upon such blood-stained fields," he warned his chosen opponent while bringing his own massive club to bear, the surrounding Hounds and the remaining Doomsdays giving their commander a wide berth. "You now face a warrior who has bested Kal-El, the greatest champion your adopted home has to offer."

Hawkman first responded to his swaggering adversary with a familiar scowl, the overconfidence that seemed to radiate from Kalibak's very pores filling the Thangaarian with a well-wanted sense of potential satisfaction.

"As have I, fool. Now are you going to fight or not?"

Kalibak the Cruel, in addition to the dozens of still remaining troops at his beck and call, were quick to oblige.

* * *

It only took about a second-and-a-half for Wally to realize how silly it was to think that Donna and Lloyd would have been so quick to abandon the people that helped get them here. After all, their resources would have allowed them to complete the trip to Darkseid's capital in a matter of seconds but they chose to stay close to the ground, the roughly 200 mile-per-hour pace allowing the Doomsdays to quickly catch up with them and give Carter and his men the breathing room that they'd need to at least try to survive. Additionally, the relatively deliberate pace also allowed him to keep a firm eye on much of what was going on around him, starting with the barrage of laser fire that forced Kyle and Stephanie to fly low to the ground then on Kara as she managed to hammer aside two Doomsdays that had swerved in front of her before being bull-tackled to the ground by three more that rushed at her from behind. His urge to rush to help his friend was quickly interrupted as the advantageous monsters were pushed aside by a combined short flurry of laser fire courtesy of Kyle and Lloyd, his two comrades surprisingly accurate despite also having to contend with everything the looming fortress was throwing at them.

"_I guess I should just chalk this up to being just another Wednesday," _The Flash couldn't help but muse aloud while getting himself back into the thick of things, the former understudy of Barry Allen quickly rushing to his right in order to cut off a trio of enemies that were readying to make a play for Kyle and Nightwing. _"By the way, would anybody mind being the one to explain to Linda about why I couldn't make it to the art exhibit?" _he asked while lashing out his right foot to trip up another Doomsday before throwing his body into a tight, right-side somersault to vault over another attempt on his life. _"'Cause I am __**not**__ looking forward to having my mother-in-law's handmade wok being chucked at my head for the second time this week."_

"_Really? And to think that I was looking forward to seeing that." _Nightwing confessed from the relative safety of Kyle Rayner's clutches. _"Oh, and watch your right by the way."_

The Flash would have shaken his head back and forth in dismay had he the time or the opportunity to do so. _"Man, why does everybody I know always want to see me be miserable? And what the. . ." _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM! ". . . _SHEEEEIT!"_

A hasty hyper vibration of his molecules allowed The Flash to avoid any damage from the multitude of explosions that his best friend had halfheartedly tried to warn him about, the heat generated by the rounds of C-4 literally washing over his unstable makeup as he took a split second to look back and witness the brief rain of gray body parts and mildly incinerated body organs. Trying hard not to let the bizarre sight distract him, he quickly turned his attentions back to the forefront and the buzzing onslaught of kinetic energy that was just waiting to be sifted through.

"_Explosive batarangs?" _he couldn't help but ask.

"_I was getting bored with just being the team's paperweight," _Nightwing explained, the matter-of-fact tone clear enough for Wally to almost see the casual shrug of his buddy's shoulders. _"By the way, can we stop moving so fast? I mean, I know we're kinda sorta running for our lives but it's awfully hard for me to line up a shot."_

"_Well, then you should just become more awesome like the rest of us!" _Robin suggested while pushing her own way forward, the toughness imbued to her by her Oan power ring and cultured by 18 years in Gotham allowing her to endure a painful kick to the gut while still staying airborne, her vengeance swift as she fired a spiraling beam of energy that struck down the Doomsday that had tried to cave in her abdomen. _"Wow, this is sooooo like that stage in Star Fox 64! Y'know, that one where you're almost at Venom and the team has to get through all those bad guys that are always shooting at you and Andross comes on the radio to taunt you? Area. . . Z, right?"_

"_Area 6," _Wally corrected his younger comrade while making his own way through the rapidly moving whirlwind of flesh and blood as a carpet blast of emerald energy supplied by Stephanie cut a swath between him and the middle of the continuously shifting battlefield. _"Sector Z was the one where the bad guys send a bunch of missiles at The Great Fox and Katt helps you shoot 'em down_," he added while twisting his body fast and tight in order to create a small tempest that managed to momentarily stymie the dozen or so Doomsdays that couldn't swerve out of the way in time.

"_Well, I guess that would make me Fox McCloud," _Lloyd thought quietly while continuing to try his best to stay in the hub of the bloodshed, his eyes now almost all silver as he continued to push his energy manipulation abilities to the fullest. _"That bein' said, I don't really have any fruity, motivational sayings to go with the role so I'm afraid you lot'll just have to go with wot you've got."_

"_I'll be Peppy," _Kara quickly chimed in as she rose back up to a vertical base, her lithe frame quickly recovering before she moved to catch up, her brief breach of the sound barrier bringing her back quickly to Donna and Lloyd. Her thin lips momentarily bent into a slight frown as she noticed the tattered shape of the shirt that Kyle had been nice enough to lend to her. _"If only because you don't need to be a mind reader to see where this one's. . ."_

"_I'm Falco!" _Steph and Wally both said nearly simultaneously, the dual declaration causing the both of them to put just a little more aggression in their work as the Doomsdays continued to try their best to rip them limb from limb.

"_I'm not having this argument again, Steph!" _The Flash boldly proclaimed while briefly reducing his speed in order to allow the three Doomsdays chasing him to hastily pass him by. _"You're always wrapped up in a green aura, you're always talking about nothing and you always get yourself in trouble! You're Slippy!" _added the scarlet-garbed speedster, the last bit of his statement emphasized by a tight, forward somersault that allowed him to collide with the chest of the Doomsday in front of him. Using the quickly falling body as a springboard, his momentum carried him just to the left where he managed to land a jujitsu-style dropkick on his second target before using the momentum gained from that to finish up with a Shotokan-style jump kick that connected with the sharp jaw of the last of his pressing engagements, the strong bone snapping under the force and velocity of his assault.

"_Bullcookies! You are soooooo Slippy Toad!" _Stephanie countered while easily catching the massive arm of a Doomsday that had attempted to drag her to the ground. Finding herself strapped with the need to pay attention to what she was doing, she chose to take a moment of relative silence while twisting her body into a tight spin that would allow her to really put some muscle into the over-the-shoulder throw that sent her attacker plummeting back down to the scalding surface, the sound of the downward moving Doomsday smacking into two of its cousins and sending all three of them tumbling to the ground sounding quite satisfying to her ears. _"Which one of us has to get rescued on, like, an hourly basis? I mean, Zoom beat your ass, Cyborg Superman beat your ass, Vincent almost killed your ass. . ."_

"_He almost killed you too!" _Wally thought back through gritted teeth, the former Justice Leaguer moving quickly to take advantage of Stephanie's clever move by tossing the fallen Doomsdays straight into the running paths of many of the other monstrous shock troopers. _"And I saved you from Zoom back in The Speed Force and kept you being fried by Maxie Zeus when that Arcade guy broke everybody out of Arkham."_

"_Bulllllshit, you did! I didn't need any help pounding on that mustard-bottle wearin' bastard! And at least I can fly! You know, like a bird? You just run around on the ground like an amphibian on methamphetamines. . ."_

_How on Earth do they ever get anything done? _Donna couldn't help but ponder while wrapping her unencumbered left arm around the forearm of the blood-slathered Doomsday that had just attempted to eviscerate her. _Please don't tell me they're always like this, _she silently pleaded to no one in particular while her right arm quickly moved to slice through the creature's trunk with Lloyd's blade.

"_Well, considerin' the circumstances that Steph's scared out of her wits and Wally's gloomin' over his kids as per usual, I'd say that the two of them are bein' quite subdued," _Lloyd threw in, the telepath surprisingly quick to pick up Donna's stray thoughts while continuing to make his own way through the horde. The half-demon easily weathered the mildly accusatory glare his erstwhile second-in-command had somehow found the time to throw his way and responded with a slight grin. _"Just thank the gods that Tweety isn't singing yet, I say."_

The former self-appointed den mother of The Teen Titans nearly felt the need to sigh despite all the activity around her. _"You'd think that five years of putting up with Dick, Garth, Roy and Wally all jabbering away would make me used to this sort of thing," _she thought back, fairly confident that the British-born vigilante was still taking an innocent gander into her cerebral cortex.

"_Whatever gets you through the day." _The quick reply was soon followed by a quick act of teleportation that instantly brought The Black Dog up to where he was moving in front of Donna. _"We need to hurry and wrap this up. Can ya keep up with me?"_

Donna allowed herself a smile while slamming her right knee into the chest of a Doomsday that had passed Lloyd by and gone straight for her. _"Just try not to slow me down," _she challenged, her many memories of her mentor offering her similar challenges spurring her ego on. That confidence in her tone was soon put to the test as Lloyd began to pour on the speed, his quick weaving from one rampaging beast to the other suddenly leaving Donna with the urge to just sit back and watch. Each of his fast but calculated strikes, be it a punch to the stomach or a kick to the knees or a hastily contrived nerve pitch, was aimed to incapacitate rather than injure, his moves all serving as setups for her to follow. And follow she did, the gleaming silver blade in her right hand slicing through the murky air as it cut through one after the other after the other. Making certain to move faster than the blood she forced to spill and spurt onto the war torn ground, she managed to kill or critically injure nearly two dozen of the cloned brutes before she and her partner had come within 20 kilometers of their final destination. The explosion of golden light drew the full attention of her eyes as she continued to follow the source of the gloriously bright detonation of supernatural energy, the 10-foot-wide path opened by Lloyd's recent work allowing both warriors to pass to the front of the conflict with room to spare.

_First or third gear, _Donna couldn't help but think as a familiar blur of red passed her by on the left before circling around to her back. _Nothing in between._

"_Get ready, luv!" _The Black Dog hastily ordered while preparing himself for his own next move. _"LIGHT IT UP, RAYNER!"_

The elder of the two Green Lanterns was all too happy to oblige. Assigned to protecting Nightwing while conserving his energy since the beginning of the battle, the former Torchbearer of The Green Lantern Corps had ample time to amass an impressive supply of eldritch energy from the subbatteries of his ring. The sum result let itself be known with a powerful but focused eruption of emerald energy that seemed to sprout in the middle of the horde of Doomsdays before spreading through their ranks as quickly as the supernatural light could travel. Gray flesh and ivory bone melted away with equal ease as Rayner and The Black Dog worked together to contain the explosion to the planet's surface, their dozens of sturdy opponents fading away faster than most of the soulless monsters could even realize it. Of course, those who did manage to survive were only consigned to be bathed in the wave of scarlet-red energy that followed, the 30-foot wide stream of solar energy gushing from Kara's eyes quick to complete its selected task. In a matter of seconds, 122 Doomsday clones had been reduced to a solitary one, the unfortunate remainder looking decidedly worse for wear.

"_Everything good on your end, Tweety?" _The Flash asked while zipping around the sole survivor and delivering a nasty chop block that sent his adversary down to its ragged knees.

"_I'm holding up," _Robin reported back, her usual cocksure manner momentarily blunted as she continued to support the steady force barrier that protected the team from the energy cannons that lined Darkseid's fortress. The task was simple enough but her tone was surprisingly antsy, the pressure supplied by the eternal fan girl in her begging to turn around to see Donna run the last adversary through with the _Mugalshir _being surprisingly difficult to endure_. _The painful thrust to the stomach allowed the Doomsday to spend a half-second letting out a guttural roar of agony before Nightwing fired another batarang that sliced through the hard cartilage of its nose, the accurate shot allowing the beast to have a perfect view of the C-4 strapped to the small projectile before it went to its destructive task. _"Ooooooow, I missed the 'Titans Together' moment! Damn it, why do I always miss out on the good stuff?"_

"_Karma would be my best guess," _Kara quipped, the half-Kryptonian reminding herself to be gentle as she swooped Nightwing into her arms before winging her way forward once again. _"Is everybody still good?"_

"_It will be once Stephanie starts doing her job and sharing her energy with Rayner," _Lloyd replied, his grouchy tone doing little to keep him from leading the pack as he and the rest of them continued to bridge the gap between Darkseid's fortress and the now empty battlefield.

"_Oh, keep your pants on, Puppy," _Stephanie fired back with a similar display of petulance before heading to her next assigned task. _"How's your weapon supply holding up, Night Thing?"_

"_Well, I've run out of stuff that explodes," _Nightwing declared, the force of the 300 mile-per-hour winds slapping him in the face forcing him to shut his eyes. _"Still, I imagine I'll find something to play with inside."_

"_All right, the fortress is in sight," _Donna unnecessarily reported, the master of New Cronus quick to take the lead as Lloyd busied himself with taking Stephanie's place in warding off the defensive blitz presented by the monolithic structure. _"We've all seen the layout, we all know what we're supposed to do and now the only thing left is to go and do it."_

"_I don't know, I still think I'm more suited to head for the upper levels of Castle Grayskull," _Robin joked, the eager Green Lantern daring herself to even move past Donna as the two of them continued to swerve their way around the blinding flashes of plasma and volcanic energy. _"'Cause, personally, I prefer the air," _she added with a ridiculously bad Brooklyn accent that made the majority of her comrades roll their eyes in exasperation.

"_Just get to work, Slippy," _ordered The Black Dog as he, Kara, and Kyle combined a small portion of their collected energy and sent it hurling straight at the front door, the 30-foot tall fusion of duranium and Apokoliptian honed steel quickly splintering under the triplicate assault. A blur of black was quick to tear apart the scraps that remained, the charge of Donna Troy briefly preceding the entry of her six companions into Darkseid's chief stronghold. Unfortunately, the momentary success provided no respite for any of them as the seven soldiers shifted into three teams, two of them rocketing down to the southeast, another duo descending into the lower floors of the enormous edifice while the remaining three went straight up the middle.

"Let's see The Jackoff League top that," Stephanie couldn't help but think aloud.

* * *

As one could imagine, the bold charge through 125 miles of Darkseid's most well-defended territory and all the bloodthirsty machinations of dark science that came with it was no simple task and most likely deserved a brief respite. As it just so happened, such a period of rest was available for Donna, Kara, and Lloyd as they cautiously made their way through the central atrium, a cursory perusal of the expansive vestibule providing a quick but thorough glimpse into the machinations of a creature who believed that his power was peerless and worthy to control the whims and destinies of others. Tall ceilings lined and supported with stark, stone columns and side halls lined with various trophies of countless victories from a myriad of battlefields across the cosmos each provided a small portion of Darkseid's story, definitive tales of those who had tried and failed to obstruct his grand vision and design. The lighting provided by the torches that lined the center columns, each of them empowered by the heat of the lava stemming from the very core of Apokolips, was dim yet eternal yet stark, something that told its viewers that it would remain long after they could no longer see or draw warmth from the light and heat they provided.

"This. . . isn't what I was expecting," Kara mumbled while shifting her sights from one side to the other, her slow, soft steps causing the flaxen-haired woman to fall several steps behind her two more attentive comrades.

"'M inclined to agree, luv," Lloyd offered with a hoarse reply, his own hazel eyes momentarily lingering on the crowd of "Lowlies", members of the planet's brutally-oppressed peasant class, as they continued their selected duties despite the previous pandemonium. "I'm feelin' like an extra in a soddin' Tennessee Williams play," he observed before paying a closer look at the myriad of surrounding bystanders, refugees and scraps of societies still physically moving about but mentally shattered by the merciless work of their master. "Well, maybe as seen through the eyes of Stanley Kubrick."

"Can you pick up the energy signature of The Anti-Life Equation?" Donna asked pointedly, eager to keep things from getting off course.

"Not so far," Lloyd nearly whispered back while following Donna through the central hall, his eyes and thoughts eager to leave the Lowlies behind. "There's a whole lot of magic mixed up in this place, some of it specifically designed to keep people from taking a looksie." A couple of quick blinks seemed to sift the silver from his eyes as he turned to meet Donna's expectant stare. "If we're gonna find what we're looking for then we're definitely going to have to go deeper in."

Donna responded with an accepting nod before turning to face front once again, searching for whatever their host had in store for them. "Like I said, it's pretty unlikely that Darkseid would allow something as important as the equation fall under the control of anyone else. We find him, we find it."

"Sounds as good of a theory as any," Lloyd offered quickly. "That bein' said, ya mind handing me back my blade, Miss Troy?"

Donna finally let out an unwilling jump upon realizing that she still held the silver saber in her right hand, a somewhat sheepish smile threatening to crawl into her countenance as she briefly turned to return the weapon to its owner. "Thank you for that. The craftsmanship still seems familiar to me but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Izzat right?" Lloyd replied, his head tilting to one side as he coolly slid the mystic blade back into its assigned scabbard. The urge to ask for more grew strong in his thoughts but a brief flare of tension stemming from a few steps behind him quickly lay the yearning to rest. "You all right, Kara?"

Now it was The Black Dog's turn to nearly startle as a familiar pair of crystalline blue eyes seemed to frantically search his face, his lover's normally rosy countenance now pallid, clammy, and riddled with sweat and fear. Ignoring the concern stemming from Donna's thoughts, he did his best to battle back the poorly-used guilt that flared up in his belly and moved to clench Kara's shoulders, the monster in him unwillingly giving way to the man as his short fingers brushed aside the thick drops of moisture that had accumulated along Kara's temples.

"Where are you, luv," he whispered sternly, his lips inches from Kara's own as he rose his head up and down in time with hers. "You helped me beat back my fear so let me do the same for you."

A flicker of Kara tried to keep breath, keep time with Lloyd as she slowly shook her head back and forth, her shoulder-length curtain of blonde hair tumbling along with her. "No. Noooooo," she warbled out, her strong frame nearly set to tremble. "This is no good. I can't face it like this. Not with all the singing. . ."

"Singing?" Donna asked sharply, her quick but strong steps bringing her close to the couple but still decidedly far away. "Are you hearing anything, Black Dog?"

As rude as it may have seemed, Lloyd didn't feel the need to provide a direct response to the perfectly legitimate question, his attentions focused on something he didn't think he could stop. "We both know what's happening here. Nobody plays us anymore. We promised each other that."

"I'm not being played," Kara murmured through gritted teeth, her body temperature spiking as a familiar pattern played itself out once again. "He's calling me. . ."

"Shut your mind off from it, Kara!" Donna snapped, the former Teen Titan weathering Lloyd's angry, protective glare as she placed her right hand by Lloyd's and clamped her fingers around the younger girl's shoulder. "Don't let him dig his way in."

Kara wanted to follow the cautionary and compassionate words, the tone behind them so very different than the unforgiving and unending thoughts that had threatened to swamp her senses the moment she set foot on Darkseid's domain. The song continued throbbing through her ears, a clarion call for her to launch into something she hated but needed, the soft tones achingly familiar and nearly forcing her to quiver as one life scratched against the other.

"I'm sorry."

Donna and Lloyd quickly recovered as they were thrown into the surrounding stone walls from the force of Kara's ascent, the spray of gravel and brick showering down on their heads as the blonde-haired Kryptonian rocketed up level after level.

"SOT!" Lloyd yelled as he rose back to his feet, a long half-second passing before he could manage to shake off the thoughts that briefly caused him to go numb. "I'M GOING AFTER HER!"

"NO!" Donna shrilled back with equal determination while employing her own impressive strength to keep her remaining partner from abandoning his post. "We both knew something like this could happen and you know we have to play it out." The former Amazon was grateful that Lloyd was quick to see the reason behind her words, the frantic flicker in the younger man's eyes quickly being rubbed out as he gnashed his teeth in frustration. Likewise, it hadn't taken long for the former Troia to snap out of her momentary distractions as she dimly heard the sound of harsh footsteps stemming from both sides of the long hall. Turning west as Lloyd simultaneously moved to face east, her eyes quickly caught the sight of Artemiz, Bernadeth, and Stompa all rushing towards her with a fierce but determined glee, doubtlessly eager to carry out their master's wishes. Similarly, her quick mind allowed her to hurriedly come to the conclusion that Gilotina, Lashina, and Mad Harriet were barreling their way towards her partner at the same time.

"There is no need to worry for your Kryptonian comrade," Granny Goodness informed Donna and Lloyd, the portly, iron-haired general of Darkseid's forces eagerly observing the pincer rush of her Female Furies. "I assure you that she shall soon be in the attentive care of our Master Darkseid."

* * *

The roster of the available opposition had once read like a Christmas card from hell. There were twenty-five Parademons, twelve bounty hunters from a variety of dangerous locales, seven hound troopers, five of their beastly pets, four werewolf-like demons that the lady of the group insisted on killing while pretending to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer (although with less whining and lust for corpses, as the self-proclaimed artiste had put it at the time) and three rather malicious looking automatons that looked as if they had been designed by George Lucas after an accidental field trip to a field of burning marijuana. It was an imposing force to be sure, so much so that it left neither of our aggrieved errors with the time or energy to make either a partridge or a pear tree.

But the end result?

_FRA-KA-KOOM!_

"We're heeeeeeerrrrreeeee," Robin whispered to the expansive laboratory from what was now the ruins of its front entryway, the tattered remains of one of the previously mentioned robots still draped over her head and shoulders as if it were a particularly shiny scalp.

"Meh, I still say that we should have went with a Dexter's Lab reference," Kyle Rayner griped while lowering his right hand, his ring still resonating from the output of energy he needed to properly pull off their destructive entrance. "And take that stupid thing off your head!"

The younger of the Green Lanterns fired back with a predictably juvenile pout before placing her hands on her hips. "Now, see, this is why everybody likes Hal more than you. _He _would have thought that this was cute and charming."

"Hal also thinks that having sex on a plane is always a perfectly logical thing to do."

"And what's wrong with that?" Stephanie asked, the wording of her dispute causing her raven-haired comrade to suspiciously raise his eyebrows while she shifted her lips to one side. "Annnnnd I probably should have picked a less ooky way of saying that." She tried her best not to sneer at her sniggering conversational partner while the two of them descended down the main stairwell. "You got something against frequenting the Mile High Club, Kylie?"

"No. Just so long as you're not in charge of the establishment at the time."

"What the hell are you. . . oooooooh," Stephanie realized while involuntarily adopting the tone of a child that had just been told the truth behind a much-desired secret. "Well, at least that gives me a new game to play with Cesar if we ever get our hands on another Batplane. . ."

"WHAT?!" Kyle spat out, his shock almost causing him to fall down the last few steps.

"Prude." Stephanie cheerfully accused while leaping off the stairwell, the fair-haired Green Lantern sliding to a stop as she took in the foreboding scene around her. The low lights made the already sizeable quarters look as if it was never-ending, the dull glow of many of the chemical compounds stored safely in sturdy clamps, makeshift tube racks or glass storage cases providing another series of dim illuminations as she made her way down the central aisle of the room. The eastern wall was dominated by what she could only assume to be something like a long series of chalkboards or some other form of extensive writing tablets, each of them covered with equations, experimental data, and various scientific theories written in a multitude of languages that she wasn't even bother going to try to understand. Conversely, the western wall appeared to be more devoted to the harder evidence of the owner's work, the cragged rock walls lined with nearly a dozen holding cells, each of them accompanied by what looked like sizeable, incubator-like structures that had most likely housed many of the vicious brutes they had been forced to kill on their way here. She only needed a couple seconds to think about how her big brother had most likely been trapped in something so similar for so very long before suddenly filling the urge to wipe out everything she could see, raze the foul work around her down to the ground before it could be used to hurt anyone or to fulfill the dark desires of monsters who would put things like these into motion.

"So this is Desaad's laboratory," she finally managed to get out once she felt comfortable with speaking, her companion giving her a quick nod before resuming his search. "Gotta say that I'm not really familiar with this guy's work."

"He's Darkseid's chief weapons manufacturer," Kyle began as his right hand swept across a nearby table, his fingers briefly skimming over a scalpel-like dagger stained with dried blood, "not to mention a big fan of inventing fun, new ways to torture people. He's a well-documented sadist with a real knack for treachery and a habit of changing sides whenever he thinks someone else would better benefit him."

"Well, that just sounds like a laundry list of the things I'd want out of a productive worker bee." Robin allowed herself a bit of amusement by taking some vials of yellow liquid and casually tossing them onto the stone floor. "So if this guy is such a weasel then how come he's still Darkseid's number two?"

"Well, Kilowog always thought that he just doesn't have the stones to turn against Darkseid," Rayner explained while bringing his ring to bear, the eldritch instrument quick to follow his command to search for anything resembling the Anti-Life Equation. "There's also the fact that the guy is probably just too good at what he does for the big guy to just go ahead and kill him."

"Huh. And, again, another great thing to put on a resume," Stephanie noted while beating back the desire to write out 'Robin wuz here' on the nearby wall. "Well, judging from what you're telling me, I'm guessing that he's not exactly a big time bad-ass like his butch boyfriend."

"Definitely not. He's much more comfortable with someone, or something, doing the fighting for him. Or just setting up traps. . ."

Rayner's words came to a sudden stop as the secondary walls to the front entranceway suddenly slid shut with a foreboding _HRUUUNK!. _That was soon followed by a similar looking gate opening on the opposite side, the once hidden passageway revealing a heaving helping of outerworldly beasts, obviously former subjects of Desaad's cruel experiments. None of them appeared to be ready for any form of sane or even rational thought but the hunger in their stomachs soon allowed them to work with a surprising degree of devotion to a suddenly shared task. Only a handful of seconds passed before many of the surrounding tables and lab pedestals had been thrown aside by the violent maneuvers of desperately famished souls, the anger brought about by their years of suffering desperately seeking any viable target it could find.

"Oh, lookie," Steph said with as much dullness she could muster under such dire circumstances. "I think we just walked into a trap."

"Well," Rayner replied while trying to match his partner's lackluster temperament. "I think you might be right."

* * *

The heavy footsteps of the trio of Parademons rushing down the narrow hallway produced a series of rumbling sounds that seemed to bounce off the high walls, the fearless soldiers of The Lord of Apokolips continuing their neverending quest to appease the desires of their master. Their strong eyes, designed to pierce their way even through the darkest night or bleakest of landscapes, swept over everything in front of them, their hateful patience allowing them to continuously search for the blur of scarlet that had originally beckoned their attention. Of course, it didn't take long for them to realize that their search was momentarily fruitless, that their efforts would be much better spent searching the rest of the premises rather than follow what little remained of the previous trail.

So that is what they chose to do, their matched and measured movements quickly carrying them down the passageway leading east into a subchamber lined with plasma cannons, battle halberds, and other weapons specifically designed by Desaad in order to aid them in close combat.

And, lest we forget, a small smattering of nerve gas that seemed almost eager to invade their efficient lungs and nostrils.

The urge to momentarily succumb to the pull of the noxious fumes was enough for the blur of blue and charcoal to safely hurtle into their ranks, the first Parademon going down quickly from a stiff but well-placed savate kick that allowed the right heel of the newfound intruder to make a bone crushing impact with the trooper's throat. A series of white, solid flashes, escrima sticks as they were called on the trespasser's home world, were quick to lash out at the guard standing next to his fallen brethren, the short batons crashing against first the knees then the elbow joints until finally finishing up with a series of strikes to the neck and a finishing blow to the bridge of the Parademon's skull that sent the second sentry down in a bloody, broken heap. However, the time it took to finish those painful maneuvers gave the third guard enough time to recover, the gray-skinned sentinel angrily aiming the sharp edge of his javelin straight at the heart of his potential attacker. Unfortunately for the loyal servant, the return of the glint of scarlet quickly ruined any shot he had of avenging his fallen comrades as he was slammed into the nearby wall like an out-of-control pinball, the bloodthirsty beast unconscious even before he finished sliding against the ground.

"Damn it, Wally." Nightwing seethed while momentarily inspecting his work. "I told you I had him."

The Flash calmly crossed his arms across his chest. "Sorry about that," he said with a not so repentant toothy grin. "It's just, you know, I've spent so much time helping shadowy, ungrateful vigilantes that it just all happens on instinct nowadays."

Richard Grayson wisely offered nothing in response as both he and Wally broke into a brisk sprint, the both of them almost eager to return to the task at hand. "Well, as much of a positive boost to my ego that turned out to be, I'm still beginning to think that this all may be just a little much."

"Urragh!" The Flash grunted out, the momentary impatience he felt with keeping such a slow pace combining with a long-lingering frustration. "Pleeeeease don't tell me we're about to get caught up in the whole 'Oh, woe is me. I'm just an ordinary acrobat on a flying trapeze thing again, are we?'"

"No," Nightwing said with as much fortitude he could muster while conducting an Olympic-caliber dash "This isn't about not being able to do what I think I can do. It's about me being asked to do too much." He found he needed a moment to recover his breath as he followed his ambling friend down into the third subbasement. "I mean, this isn't exactly saying something darkly witty before punching King Tut in the face here."

"No, it most definitely is not," The Flash agreed while performing another sweep for foreign kinetic energy. "Hold that thought," he said briefly before rushing ahead and knocking out a quartet of Parademons that were only seconds from turning down the hallway only twenty yards away. Thankfully, the time it took for his turtle-like partner to catch up was enough to allow him to finish his search to his satisfaction. "I mean, we are talking about Darkseid here," he continued moments before Nightwing came dashing around the corner, "the guy that can give you dad lessons on how to be dark, smart, and broody."

Nightwing found that he needed a second or two to slow up and involuntarily examine The Flash's recent handiwork, his somewhat comical forward peddling allowing him to briefly pass the grinning speedster. "Thanks for helping make my point there, buddy," he blurted out as Wally passed him by again. "I don't know. Maybe it's just that everything I've heard about this guy is all second-hand. I mean, I guess it's sort of like you always feeling threatened by my old man after all those years Barry forced you to read _The Gotham Herald_ so you could read about a real crime fighter."

"Oh! OH HO! How your wit bruises me, Sir Broodboy of Gotham," The Flash countered while unnecessarily holding his right hand against his stomach. "Still though, I can't say as I blame you. Darkseid was always the guy that got even Clark and Diana all ruffled up, even more so than Luthor. I mean, no manner how many times we thought we beat him he always seemed to have some trick up his sleeve. Always something we just didn't see coming."

It took a half of a second for Nightwing to see what his old friend had meant by that, the dull click of a mechanical device lined along the wall forcing him to jump to a series of quick and likely accurate conclusions before pouring on the speed. The forward shove he gave to Wally was instinctual, positively foolish, absolutely selfless, and something he wouldn't take back even after the motion sensor activated, the device triggering an explosion that rocked the narrow passageway and engulfed the quickly crumbling rock in flames. His brain and skull seemed to swim in its own agony as the heat licked against the carapace around his arms and ran across his scalded chest but it still wasn't enough to block out Wally's panicked scream as he looked on from above, his friend powerless to save him from the flame pits below.

* * *

It hurt to hear it all. Each footstep forward felt like torture but the lingering emotion that rose higher with every moment she stood still commanded her to keep moving despite not having any idea on where to go. The inky black around her was something that not even her own eyes could pierce, the cold chill that came with her memories of this place seemingly blunting her ability to bathe the place in an unforgiving crimson light. Still, just as she planned so long ago, she allowed her body and mind to shift to another gear, permitting herself to take the wrath that her family had honored her with and use it to see herself through what her taskmaster had provided. That rage filled her limbs with energy and pushed her to move forward, her lively blue eyes shifting to a deathly crimson.

"Tue lei ze kuloa. . . ryou tue ze kuloa ryou ze tue. . . ryou lei neu ryuo ze. . ."

The song was so familiar, so quick to jab at the heartstrings she kept hidden to all but Bruce and her beloved. _How dare this monster_, she thought, _how dare he ruin the few, tactile memories of hope and peace she still carried of her home. _She knew the voice was different, that the tones were a bit too melodic and even to be what she remembered, but her anger was comfortable with being confused.

"Va neu va lei va neu va ze lei. . . juloa ryou kulao neu tue lei soke. . ."

"Do you like it, child of Krypton?" asked a far darker voice, a grim satisfaction lining the knowing inquiry. "Forgive me if the song is unfamiliar but there is only so much that one can know of a fallen society and child's lullabies tend to be rather low on the list."

Kara wasn't foolish enough to believe that he didn't already know how much he had shaken her and that knowledge made her want to kill something. Unfortunately, the shadows continued to cover her eyes, the noise of the memorable tune keeping her from drawing a bead on where her tormentor happened to be.

"Lei va nue kuloa tue lei neeeeh. . ."

"I did my best to find someone capable of properly mimicking the verbal nuances of the Kryptonian language but I believe it would be wise to leave you to be the judge," the murky voice explained patiently. "Is the performance suitable, Kara Zor-el? Does the swell of your heart match the warmth you doubtlessly felt as Alura sung you to sleep?"

"Show yourself, you heartless bastard," Kara hissed out through gritted teeth, The Last Daughter of Krypton determined not to scream.

The Kryptonian's impatience drew a deep sigh from her tormentor as the lullaby came to a slow but steady stop. "You still fail to appreciate the subtle nuances that life provides, child. Still, I suppose I shall oblige you."

The shadowy fog lifted at the god's insistence, the reveal of the throne room as sudden and domineering as Kara remembered here. However, the creature that stood at the middle of the proceedings was more than capable of providing the serenity that the blonde-haired half-kryptonian could not, the most powerful of The Gods of The Fourth Age calmly standing by as his company struggle to restore herself. Crossing his powerful arms behind his back until his thick fingers interlocked by the small of his back, Darkseid's red eyes regarded his former unwilling servant in the manner of a lion stalking a fellow hunter, the master beast silently pondering over what he could make of what he had just attempted to break. His thin lips rose ever so slightly as Kara turned to face him, the rage still raw on her face as her eyes caught the sight of the swirling nimbus of blue and black energy that hovered on the pedestal to his left.

"I believe that this is what you seek," Darkseid said in an almost casual manner, the allure of The Anti-Life Equation looming just below his grasp momentarily overtaking him. "You are free to attempt to take it from me if you wish. However, I would ask you to question whether or not you are willing to pay the price for committing such an unwise transgression."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, never let it be said that Darkseid doesn't know how to make an entrance. That being said, I'm going to do my best to make certain that my Darkseid isn't going to be the blowhard that got his ass kicked by his own kid before getting punked out by Batman (seriously, what was up with that?). This is the one that gave me nightmares when I was six years old when my Aunt Donna thought it was a good idea to keep me entertained by buying me Jack Kirby comics. Oh, and a nice Thanksgiving-sized truckload of nerd points for those of you who can identify the song that the big guy used to torment Kara. The only clue I'm given is that those of you who know some of my other obsessions might be able to brainstorm their way through it.

Got to say that I feel a lot more confident about this issue than the last two. I always sort of get nervous in the chapters before I write the stuff I really want to write. Still, I can't just have the good guys just show up at Darkseid's crib without any explanation of what they're doing or where they have to go. I am trying to go for a three-act structure here, after all. Here's hoping that my dozens and dozens of fans will agree with fawning criticism and possible cash donations!

Hell, I'll even provide a next issue preview free of charge! Aren't I such a good entertainer?

* * *

_Issue #88 Preview_

Well, it only took about five minutes and 3,000 words for everything to turn into crap, didn't it? Now Donna and Lloyd are surrounded by Darkseid's most feared soldiers, Kyle and Steph are being forced to play hackeysack with Desaad's deformed and psychotic abominations of nature, Dick just got himself killed (well, he isn't a Misfit anymore so he's expendable) and now it's up to Kara to take on the creature she fears the most in order to save the galaxy from a cataclysimic war. Still, I'm sure things will be right as rain by the end of the next issue, right?

Next issue: Bad Becomes Worst. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	88. Bad Meets Worse

Issue #88

Bad Meets Worse

For a true warrior, futility is a dreaded awareness that is quick to show itself but nearly impossible to acknowledge. The inevitability of death, the certainty that your active attempts to change one's own story will eventually come to an end, is a bitter pill to swallow despite the distinctions we have all given towards fighting and dying for one's beliefs.

But Orion, for all his bravado and the barely quenched rage he carries into each and every battle he has faced in his surprisingly long life, has been the creator of this dark inevitability of war far too frequently to be blind to it. The vigor he puts into the massive swing of his right fist is doubtlessly infused by it, his stern bone and sinew crushing the skull and upper spinal cord of the Fortunian bounty hunter unfortunate enough to crawl into his path. The green-skinned humanoid creature crashes to the ground, the suddenly nameless warrior quickly forgotten and easily replaced by the others that rapidly trample over his fallen form. Every one of them is either eager or intensely interested in claiming the handsome reward for the head of the champion of New Genesis and the sheer number of mercenaries and bloodthirsty troopers is far too abundant to be denied their collective ambition.

But still the boy keeps going, doesn't he? Watch the force and speed of his kick he throws at the large hound, the precise strike a punishment for the beast and its blind hunt for food. Look on as he sets his teeth before letting out a growl of impotent defiance as a quintet of Parademons surround him, the loyal soldiers surprisingly tepid toward their current task despite the growing certainty of victory. The number of opportunities he could have employed his Mother Box to fall away from his vain efforts continues to rise with every second and each small victory or kill but still he refused to succumb to the thought of losing. Believe me, I know full well of the rage that builds within this misbegotten fool, the imperceptible anger to avenge the slaughter of his comrades now festooned around the battlefield like forgotten rubble. He is trying to assure himself that his rage is fully just and not a byproduct of his pedigree but the blind frenzy he places in ripping a halberd from the grip of a nearby Parademon and using it to tear into the beast's throat makes it rather obvious that the enterprise is a failure.

Perhaps it would be wise, in what are doubtlessly his last moments of existence, to provide an explanation of why this brave though imprudent soldier has chosen to remain here. As a child, he was traded for Scott Free in what was deemed to be a peace effort between New Genesis and Apokolips but proved to be little more than a foolishly designed maneuver by Highfather Izala that he hoped would allow him to snatch victory from his inevitable defeat. Naturally, Izala and his lot did their best to rein in Orion's rage and anger, to do whatever they could to keep this force of nature in their thrall but they were never truly successful. Much as Scott Free was unable to see the wisdom within the destiny of Apokolips, this dog of war could never turn away from his lust for blood and domination.

Then came that laughable prophecy, the haphazard words of some misbegotten charlatan claiming that this boy would bring an end to the infinite glory of Darkseid. You could not even begin to count the number of fools that would meet their justly demise upon supporting such lies, the impressive count rising higher as Orion was somehow corrupted into believing such deceits. To believe that a child of Darkseid could be relegated to such an insignificant role, a mere marionette to be tossed about and abandoned by a grand design that began well before he was brought into being and will continue on far after his demise this day, is one of the greatest insults I have ever been forced to endure. Can you imagine why I would be so frustrated, my child? As I show you what is going on around you, can you perhaps begin to comprehend why I would seek you out?

Ah, but you are distracted by the force that Orion is putting into felling that Izalian dragon, aren't you? Well, I must confess that it was a rather wise maneuver, his recently acquired halberd allowing him to easily tear through the tough flesh of the black beast. The creature's plummet to the ground will surely impede many of the soldiers seeking to claim his life, albeit if only for a moment. Still, I hope that you do not draw too much false hope from it. To be brutally frank, this battle was over before it even began.

Now, now, there's no need to gasp out in fear. It was only a matter of time before one of our eventual victors managed to do some lasting damage to our failed champion. Do you think that the boy is surprised by the unique burn of the Radion imbued in the spear that has been plunged through his abdomen, little one? Perhaps he felt it as the next two Parademons followed suit, their sharp, hungry blades equally eager to dig through Orion's shoulder blades and relish in the strained scream that follows. The blind rage he employs to throw the Parademons away from doing any more damage certainly seems more honed in instinct rather than as a planned counter, doesn't it? How interesting that physical pain can bring about such an extreme reaction in the thoughts of such imperfect creatures.

And look at how slow he is to respond to the charge of the hound! Why, it was if there was nothing he could have done to prevent the animal's sturdy jaws from digging into his waist and upper legs. Odd. Desaad had informed me that the Radion would weaken the boy's circulatory system but that repulsive spray of blood tells me that it hasn't fully ground to a halt. Still, I suppose I must credit the boy for having enough strength to throw off the bloodthirsty beast while continuing the weather the burn of heated plasma and the sting of tempered steel digging through his flesh; burning the very muscle and sinew that allows him to continue moving and fighting. He knows that each and every one of his comrades now lie dead on the battlefield, his foolish endeavor finally reaching its eventual failure. Is he frustrated to recognize that no one save us will witness his final battle, his last attempt to claim a destiny that he could never possibly attain?

I've never truly cared for the opinions or thoughts of others so I suppose I can only hypothesize on such trivialities.

* * *

Kara did her best to keep from clenching her eyes shut as Orion's bloody, beaten form was bathed in laser fire and ripped to shreds by Parademons, bounty hunters, and beasts alike, their combined efforts enough to bring a violent but merciful end to New Genesis' Dog of War. Still, she couldn't help but think that such silence seemed like an insult, particularly given how her guide had remained so calm and detached through it all.

"And so ends the wasted existence of Orion Khan, maligned son of the Lord of Apokolips," Darkseid intoned softly while ceasing the satellite image percolating from the center of his throne room with a casual wave of his hand. Being a self-proclaimed gentleman, he allowed the time his guest would need to bring her resentment to a boil before moving to the next manner on his agenda. "It would appear that those responsible for imbuing the hopes of New Genesis will have to return to the drawing board, to adopt a phrase from your borrowed home. Of course, who among us have not clung to such blind optimism while caught within the tides of time? So many of us continue to grasp for whatever grand visions or possible opportunities that lay just beyond our grasp, if only through the subconscious knowledge that trying and failing to reach them will give our lives some form of meaning."

Darkseid could easily feel the heat radiating from the girl's eyes as she waited for her time to strike, sense the eldritch energy boiling through Kara Zor-el's very blood as she did her best to bring the other portion of her inherited strength to bear.

"Let us take you, for example," he offered while waving his large, right hand in Kara's general direction, "a half-blood bequeathed with a degree of power that could not possibly be reached by any full-blooded Kryptonian or Praxian but still bereft of the knowledge or capacity to ever fully control it. Does your journey to learn and become more of what you are allow you to hide from the certainty that you will eventually fall to the drudgery of time? Or perhaps your attempts to quench your thirst for physical and psychological satisfaction enable you to momentarily subdue the atrophy that has been sneaking a hint of you away with every passing second?"

"How can you be so calm right now?" Kara seethed, the temptation to challenge Darkseid's theories quickly tossed aside. "That was your child!"

"A child whose mind had been warped to believe that his sole purpose for living was to bring me to my demise," the crimson-eyed overlord interrupted, his weathered palms lying open and bare in order to strengthen his call for silence. "How amusing," he added while folding the stumpy, craggy fingers of his left hand in order to wrap them around his broad chin. "I would have thought that the conditioning provided by your father would have allowed you to better see my line of reasoning."

"I understand your _reasoning_," the half-Kryptonian fired back with a considerable supply of venom, her vivid memories of how this monster had attempted to twist her father's dark work into serving his own desires momentarily dominating her. "You've proven time and time again that you're willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to get what you think to be yours. Still, just because your way of thinking is clear doesn't make it any less revolting."

"Do not misunderstand me, Kara Zor-el," Darkseid offered while restraining a slight chuckle. "I put a significant degree of time and care into assuring that my blood kin would be remembered for what he truly was rather than what he had been conditioned to be. For all the delusions placed upon him, Orion saw a genuine opportunity to become greater than he was and chose to take it. There is not a single father that could ask of more of a son, regardless of whether their child succeeds or fails at this endeavor."

The Last Daughter of Krypton briefly shook her head back and forth, the tips of her golden mane jostling about her neck and shoulders as she not only marveled over the warped reasoning in the ruler's argument. "Why? Why did you bother showing this to me? Please don't tell me that this is just some lame way of trying to stall for time."

"Do be kinder with your words," warned the holder of The Anti-Life Equation, the cold tone allowing no room for a follow-up to Kara's own hypothesis. "I was merely attempting to share a recently gained fascination of mine. If anything, you may consider it my effort towards helping you better appreciate the value to be found in examining the cause and effect of so much of what is going on around us." The towering figure turned his back on his audience, quite confident that his safety was assured. "As I said, it was proclaimed that Orion was destined to bring an end to my existence. And, as you have seen, this divination has been rendered incorrect."

Kara couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. "Fortunetellers have never been the type to be known for their accuracy, particularly the good ones."

"Point well taken, child," Darkseid replied as he turned to face Kara once again. "As for your previous question, my late son is not the only champion of the stars whose fate and fortune has been altered by the. . . interesting actions of the past several years."

Kara only provided a cold nod while taking several steps to her left, her instincts already helping her search for the best angle she could find to rush at her surprisingly peaceful adversary. To ask the question on her lips would have been worthless and a waste of perfectly good energy so she allowed her already forward host to keep up the talking for her.

"My interest in learning more about you came into being well before your first journey to my hallowed domain. I have taken great effort in examining what you are, analyzed the events and the people that have shaped you into what you are in the present time, and am quite aware of so many of the different possibilities that await you in the future. At times you are a pathetic, whining tart who cheerfully chooses to hide behind a friendly illusion. Other instances place you as a brave but foolish warrior who would willingly die for what they believe in."

_WHOOOOOOM!_

Kara responded to whatever implication there was to come by soaring forward and slamming her left fist into Darkseid's face with a sweeping hook motion, the impact sending the towering warlord soaring awkwardly through the air. His throne, a seat constructed of the living rock of his proud home, was easily broken in two with the impact, the top half of the pedestal flying away from its sturdy base as Darkseid kept on moving. The fair-haired warrior allowed herself a smile as her sharp ears took in the sickening _crack _that resounded throughout the room as her adversary's backward momentum was finally stopped by the duranium wall that bordered the chambers, the force of the crash enough to leave a sizeable dent in the sturdy wall that would doubtlessly take a great deal of time to repair.

"Sorry about that," she offered. "It's just that I was really tired of having to listen to you talk."

Darkseid offered a slight smile as his rejoinder while easily raising himself back to his feet amidst the recently created rubble. His thick fingers briefly dabbled his lower lip, specifically the spot where a blood vessel had burst and caused a slight sprinkle of black blood to slip through the narrow aperture. He had been on enough battlefields to take in the taste and throw it into his own soul, the coppery aroma fueling his already impressive well of power. His reimbursement was quick in coming thanks to his foe's follow up, a solid but steady forward rush that offered him just enough time to defend himself from the first few chops and hooks before countering with a stiff kick to the jaw, a blindingly swift counter that blatantly belied his massive frame. Of course, just as his adversary had been so kind to offer him just seconds ago, he did allow Kara the short span of time she would need to return to her feet, the half-Praxian quickly standing tall but hunched within a classical Sambo stance.

"Well, just to let you know, I'm planning on changing a bit of the future myself," Kara offered, her intensely blue eyes briefly shimmering red before returning to their usual color. "I'm bringing an end to you and whatever plans you may have had with The Anti-Life Equation so you'll never be able to threaten others the way you tried to intimidate me."

The Lord of Apokolips briefly shook his head back and forth while lowering himself into his own deportment, a gesture that had long served as little more than a cursory measure rather than a way to prepare for whatever battle there was to come.

"Poor child. It appears that you still require more time to overcome your youthful foolishness."

The Anti-Life Equation continued to pulsate with a cold glow as the two fighters rushed forward.

* * *

Despite the already hectic circumstances, The Black Dog found himself far too stubborn to disallow the litany of thoughts that were gaily running about his cerebral cortex, the majority of which he would have never confessed to allowing in if anybody had been so foolish to ask him about it. He felt anger that Kara had been so quick to abandon him, frustration that he wasn't able to stop it in time and jealousy that the woman he loved was once again so eager to rush to someone else for the answers to her questions. It was a multifaceted response that he knew to not be the least bit proper but that didn't stop those unhelpful sentiments from mixing with a dose of unregulated compassion that nearly threatened to turn him into a moopy mess worthy of any critically-panned teen drama series (and Rao knows that Stephanie would have never allowed him to hear the end of something like that).

Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to extract his temperament from such a deplorable state, the oncoming attack of two of his three current opponents triggering a familiar snarl to resurface as he thrust his left foot forward with a Shotokan heel kick. It was a two-pronged maneuver designed to keep the rest of his body still while temporarily warding off Gilotina's efforts to bury her blade into his chest. As expected, the quick, warding maneuver gave him more than enough time to swerve around the swift charge of Mad Harriet, his nose picking up the scent of blood caked all over the Fury's blood-speckled talons before he sent her away with an energy bolt that crashed into her muscular abdomen.

"_Well then. Just who are these unseemly ladies that apparently want to play so harshly in our 'ittle sandbox?" _

Donna Troy found herself almost forced to quirk her lips to one side as her mind subconsciously worked over the metaphor. The rest of her body, on the other hand, was still hard at work with the task of staving off Bernadette, the statuesque Fury nearly matching her inch for inch.

"_I was hoping that you managed to find the time to read about Darkseid's Furies during the mission briefing," _she thought back with a note of exasperation while firing a side kick that landed firmly below her opponent's right armpit and sent the blonde-haired warrior crashing into the nearby wall.

"_I glossed over it," _Lloyd confessed while fending off Gilotina's wickedly sharp dual blades with a series of physical feints and telepathic manipulations. _"Just sounded like a rather warped version of Charlie's Angels to me," _he remarked while making certain to keep an eye on the bald-headed chit with the whip. _"I'm guessin' the chit I'm scrappin' with is the prerequisite dumb blonde of the group?"_

"_Close enough," _the raven-haired Amazon declared while fighting back the urge to snigger (after all, it hardly made sense to distract herself by laughing during what was already a perilous situation). _"These women are all war orphans from Darkseid's past conquests, each of them trained from birth by Granny Goodness to serve as his elite guard." _Finding herself a bit green when it came to the art of telepathic communication, the former Teen Titan found herself needing to momentarily cease her explanation in order to keep an eye on Lashina, the whip-wielding woman who was still trying to draw a bead on her erstwhile partner. _"They've got a pretty wide history of infighting," _she went on while rolling to the ground in order to pick up a nearby brick that she then hurled at Lashina's head, the small projectile prompting the silver-eyed woman to let out a startled squawk as she frantically swerved to her left in order to avoid a painful impact, _"but they have always remained loyal to AGH!"_

Lloyd briefly looked through Donna's eyes to take a glance at the source of his comrade's pain. Quickly catching the wicked, gleaming smile of Artemiz, the group's long-range specialist, he only needed a moment to wipe the giddy look off the face of the bow-toting Fury with a telekinetic force bolt that sent her tumbling over ass-over-teakettle.

"Foolish Earthlings. Your infantile attempts to delay the destiny of our almighty Lord Darkseid will soon come to naught," warned Granny Goodness, the aged, corpulent advisor and teacher of her troops choosing to stay well away from the battle itself. "The pain my children will bring upon your bodies will be a mere pittance to the punishment your souls will endure! As sure as the flame pits of our beloved home will continue to burn as they claim your bones, so too shall The Anti-Life Equation permit the Lord of Apokolips to continue his merciful shepherding of all that LIAAAA!"

It was only thanks to a lucky break that the formerly confident veteran of war had managed to avoid the lance of silver energy that The Black Dog had sent her way, the heat of the blast quickly encouraging the wrinkled sadist to scurry for cover in the midst of The Black Dog's boisterous laughter.

"Dodderin' old crone!" Lloyd roared back while allowing Lashina's barbed whip to wrap around his right forearm. "Apparently nobody ever told ya 'bout wot we Brits do to the ones that taunt from the battlements!" he added while flinging his latest attacker back into the eastern expanses of the corridor. Keeping an eye out for the next pertinent threat, he took a moment to physically rip the painful wrap around his forearm, his enhanced metabolism allowing his body to easily sow up the cuts caused by the tiny barbs while also filtering out the venom that the small blades had injected into his circulatory system. Quickly hale and hearty once again, he met the forward leap of Mad Harriet with a picture-perfect back-somersault kick that sent his right foot slicing upward and striking the Fury's chin with so much force that her body was sent upwards into the high ceiling before crashing back down to the ground.

"_Not bad," _Donna couldn't help but admit while deflecting a series of arrows fired from Artemiz's bow with the aid of her unbreakable wrist bracelets and an impressive display of dexterity. The opportunity to take the archer down was quick in coming but she soon found herself interrupted by the rumbling of the ground beneath her feet. _"Let's switch opponents again, shall we?"_

Lloyd silently obliged by rolling his body backward so that his lanky frame would rotate above Donna's sturdy shoulder blades. However, instead of bringing his feet back to the ground and allowing his balance to be jeopardized by Stompa's seismic manipulations, the former assassin used his backward momentum to spring off of his partner's shoulders with enough momentum to stretch his legs out into a double-footed spring kick that connected with the earthmover's jaw. Meanwhile, the shove offered by her partner allowed Donna to place herself in prime position to catch the dagger thrown by the recently recovered Bernadette while simultaneously preparing herself to take on Mad Harriet as she scurried down the hall on all fours. Sliding her upper body to her right in order to get a good grip on Harriet's arm, a simple shift of her left foot enabled Donna to heave her frothing opponent into a Judo-style arm drag that sent the raving madwoman stumbling across the battlefield once again, although this time in the opposite direction. Momentarily worried when she realized that her opponent's awkward travels were about to send her crashing into Lloyd, Donna couldn't help but curse her own foolishness as the Brit twisted his body into a backward somersault that sent his thin frame soaring over Harriet and allowed her and Lloyd to stand back-to-back once again.

"_As I was saying_," Donna began again while moving to prepare herself for Lashina's return. _"Now that I've seen you fight without your sword, it occurs to me that your fighting style is frighteningly similar to Bruce's." _

Mao's former student tried his best not to grimace as he suddenly found the urge to find something to hurt. The half-demon soon found a worthy target as Artemiz attempted to fire a potshot at Donna while her back was turned to her. The temptation to openly chide the cowardly move quickly stifled, he summoned a sizzling round of energy that seared through the steel-tipped projectile before doing the same to the Fury's lower chest and heart. The bowwoman was dead well before the gaping hole in her chest could leak what little blood had not been cauterized by her grievous wound, the female's body falling ingloriously to the stone-strewn floor.

"_I do like to think that there are some easy-to-see differences," _Lloyd finally countered.

"_Indeed there is," _Donna noted. _"Would you mind if I borrowed this?_" she then asked hastily while sliding the _Mugalshir _free from Lloyd's scabbard, the mystically powered saber easily falling into her control as she thrust the weapon in the path of Gilotina's blades. The swift defensive maneuver clearly threw Gilotina off, her swords clattering awkwardly against the base and blade of the silver saber and leaving Donna with a pitifully open avenue to counter. The Amazon took advantage of it, of course, her superior strength allowing her to disarm Granny Goodness's deputy before slicing the blade upward and through Gilotina's chin. The force of her swing allowed her to keep moving, the blade easily cleaving up and through a good portion of Gilotina's face and forcing the Fury to let out an ungodly scream before death hastily claimed her.

"_Oh, I understand completely," _said Donna as the four remaining Furies looked upon her and Lloyd with decidedly more caution than before. _"After all, I never liked it when people compared me to Diana."

* * *

_

The magma that rumbled 80 miles deep beneath the surface of Apokolips was something far sterner than anything that had been discovered within the mantle or core of the Earth. Constantly affecting the planet with its movement and the massive tectonic shifts brought about by the intensity of its heat and viscosity, the blazing heat stemming from the very center of Darkseid's kingdom was enough to melt away even some of the sternest materials found in the cosmos before it could even begin to register the heat. It coulddissolve the strongest steel alloy to its very stiffest of molecules andliquefy the flesh and bone of those foolish enough to believe that they could stand against those who would call this reeking hellhole their honored home.

More specifically however, it would have certainly killed one Richard Grayson had he not managed to swing himself away from the nearby pit of lava just a second-and-a-half before he could perform a cannonball dive that would have been far more hazardous to his health than anything he had ever done as a child around the Wayne Manor pool. Thankful for the added constitution and recuperative abilities given to him by his Mother Box armor, the lifelong acrobat was able to pull himself together with just enough time to not only pick a target for his grappling gun but also line up a decent shot. Uttering a brief thanks to the hours upon hours of zipline training that Bruce had forced him to endure over the past two decades, he allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief as the stalactite he had selected held strong and allowed him to swing free of the expansive abyss below him, the oppressive heat rising from the crevasse licking at his outstretched legs as he pulled his body away.

Of course, the wonders of physics did have their potential downsides as well and one of them was quick to make their presence felt as the velocity of his travels caused his grip on the grappling gun to loosen. Letting out a loud but utterly indecipherable string of instinctual profanity, the former junior partner of Bruce Wayne frantically flipped his legs upward as much as he could so that his ankles would wrap around the cord, his leg strength enabling him to keep a hold of his only source of safety even as his inanimate savior slipped from his fingers. Still upside down, he pushed his upper body forward as tightly as he could while frantically stretching his arms downward to regain control of his firing line, his mind desperately reminding him to stay calm even as the urge to panic became almost impossible to ignore. Then, pressing and holding the button that would eventually stretch the zipline to its maximum length, he anxiously waited out the next few seconds before the combination of his weight manipulation and the added distance between point-to-point allowed Nightwing to avoid a doubtlessly painful collision with the western wall, his upturned frame inevitably coming to a stop a mere ten feet from the brownish-red rock at his back before briefly sliding the other way again before finally coming to a stop. That duty done, the founder of The Teen Titans and current member of The Justice League of America couldn't help but take a moment to take stock while continuing to hang by his ankles from a zipline suspended nearly 70 feet in the air.

"I've spent way too much of my life like this," he noted dully, the buzz of his ear communicator sounding almost friendly as more and more blood continued to flow towards his brain.

"Richie?! NIGHTWING!" The Flash screamed into the other end of the comm. link at a volume that caused Nightwing to shut his eyes and wince. "Come on, man. Tell me you're alive!"

"Oh, quit your palpitations, Wall-Eye," Nightwing grouchily offered while swinging his trunk up and forward once again, this time so that his hands could wrap around the grappling cord and allow him more insurance against the threat of plummeting to the ground below. "I'm alive. . . for lack of a better term. Jus' let me get back on solid ground."

Allowing himself another handful of seconds to recompose himself, Nightwing briefly dug into a sizeable pocket of his utility belt with his free hand in order to extract a long but thin strip of metal that looked like a Batarang built just a bit too large. Pressing a button on the panel attached to the midpoint of the odd-looking object, he blinked his eyes open and shut several times as the sheet of metal extended and quickly stretched outward with a loud series of metallic grinding noisesuntil it was long enough to fit both of Nightwing's feet with relative comfort. Keeping his right hand on the handle of the air foil, the vigilante fearlessly let go of the zip line and allowed himself to free fall for just a half of a second before placing his feet on the makeshift glider, the sturdy material stifling his downward momentum just enough to allow him to drift safely to the ground below.

"What's your status, Flash?" Nightwing asked when he was only ten feet and three seconds from having his feet on unmoving ground, his impressive balance enabling him to keep himself relatively rooted to the glider. "I'm guessing that the explosion blocked off most of your ways of getting down here."

"You'd be right on that," Wally replied, the red-headed speedster now sounding a great deal calmer. "Hate to tell you this but it's going to take some time for me to get down there."

"Take your time," Nightwing calmly replied, his eyes quickly zipping back and forth in search of anything out of the ordinary. "In the meantime, I'm going to see if we can make any headway in. . . and can't you see that I'm busy?"

"What the hell are you talking about, buddy?" The Flash curiously asked.

"I wasn't talking to you," Nightwing curtly answered while tucking his body and rolling to the left to avoid the sickle and chain of the Parademon that had apparently hoped to ambush him. "Just give me a second here."

The lack of a friendly but blaring voice ringing through his ears gave Nightwing a clear enough mind to fire a bladed Batarang that sliced through the chain that connected the sickle to the handle and rendered the beast's weapon useless. Knowing that his adversary would most likely be quite frustrated by that turn of events, Dick waited patiently as the loyal soldier of Darkseid rushed forward, the bloodthirsty warrior doubtlessly hoping that its superior strength and speed would help it to win the day. Of course, it was all he could do to hold back a goofy pun as he leapt over the beast's charge with a forward somersault that simultaneously permitted him to plant both feet firmly against the back of his opponent's neck as it passed underneath, the combination of his strike and the creature's own momentum forcing the Parademon to crash into a nearby stalagmite. He landed from his haphazard leap with a well-practice grace, his body quickly stretching up from his tuck as he drew his escrima sticks from the holsters strapped to his waist. By the time the Parademon had whirled around he had managed to begin flipping and twisting the short staffs in an overly elaborate manner, his unorthodox actions causing the brainless beast to be momentarily confused by the goings on.

His means of distraction carried out, Nightwing only needed a fraction of a second to gather both of his favored weapons within his left hand while allowing his right hand to reach for another bladed Batarang that he soon flung straight at the right edge of the creature's neck. Black blood was quick to erupt from the hastily made aperture as the sentinel roared in pain before collapsing against the rock wall it had just crashed through a mere handful of seconds ago.

"Bye bye now," Nightwing said in parting while dashing off in the opposite direction, his quick steps enabling him to acquire a better angle in which to answer the sound of angry footsteps rumbling from his right. "Bad doggie! Bad!" he exclaimed while making sure to leave a gas grenade by the spot he anticipated the Hound to land from its graceful leap, the effects of the nerve gas quick to take their toll on the enormous beast as it let out a noisy whine while stumbling to the cavern floor. Of course, the domino-masked vigilante was not about to see what was next on the mongrel's tableau, his athletic legs churning up and down as he tried to reorient himself and figure out precisely where he needed to go.

"Everything's as clear as it's gonna get down here," Dick finally radioed in as he found a suitable target for the spare grappling gun he quickly yanked from another pocket of his utility belt. "I suspect I'll be waiting for you at the finish line, Mister Hare."

"Don't be so sure, Gentleman Turtle," The Flash gamely replied while continuing to focus on his own work. "Still, in my defense, there's so much to do. . ."

"And so little time," Nightwing concluded as the diamondhead drill attached to his zipline crashed firmly into the hanging stalactite nearly 45 yards to the north-northeast, the retracting of the zip line allowing the vigilante to swing upward.

* * *

Stephanie allowed herself to feel the warm trickle on her forehead before sweeping her right finger across the self-inflicted scratchf, the slight smattering of blood that dripped onto her fingertip allowing her to center a good portion of her eldritch reservoirs into a single, solitary point. Satisfied with what she had gathered, she quickly fired out a spiraling beam of energy from her blood-dabbled digit that was wide enough to spread five-feet wide but still potent enough to burn through the stern flesh of three of the bizarre monstrosities that Desaad had sent her way. She did nothing to restrain the loud laughter that erupted from her lips as many of the other freaks wisely scattered out of the attack's path, the young Green Lantern seeing no qualms with reveling in her superiority over this particular milieu.

In case anyone was interested, the trick with the blood was one of the few positive things she had gleaned from her occasional scraps with Sinestro (another being that she would never look good with a Snidely Whiplash-style pencil thin moustache). Whether the base of a Lantern's strength was either willpower or fear, the physical essence of that creature could tell the true tale of a ring's carrier more than any thought or intention.

And, oh, how she believed in the strength of the physical form. It was that reason that prompted her to resort to claws, fists, and feet when supernatural constructs or energy bolts from afar would have finished her tasks with equal or perhaps even greater efficiency. Slade had once referred to her as Bruce's bloodthirsty pit bull and that was a designation she had accepted with all the fervor she could muster. She would break bones, be broken, cause pain and receive suffering in return because she knew that, through enduring it all, she could be something more. It's something she believed when she had first donned the eggplant cape and indigo mask and was now her life's philosophy as a Green Lantern and the little bird that flew at Bruce Wayne's side with a bright smile and far too many bad jokes.

Arrive, smash, smile, joke, learn more, work hard, raise hell, cry, watch the ones you love and try and be better every day.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

"KRRAAAAAAAAAAAAW!"

Then again, there were times when she could appreciate another approach. In fact, she couldn't stop from smiling as a giant bird swooped down towards a sizeable portion of the freaks still coming after them, a blistering roar resounding from its sharp beak and strong crackles of electricity flowing from the tips of its sharp wings. Shaking her head at the creator of such a blatant copyright infringement, she patiently looked on as the bolts and waves of lightning began to burn through the skin and tear through the bones of many of the surrounding foes, the hard metal that served as the floor of the laboratory providing an excellent circuit as the powerful currents ran from one victim to the next to the next. When the physical and metaphorical dust had settled, there were only a small handful of monsters left for Steph to hurt, one of which quickly chose to charge at her head long with a wickedly sharp horn leading its angry stampede.

"Damn it, Kylie! Didn't you know that electric attacks don't work on ground types?" the younger of the two Green Lanterns yelled out before leaping over her latest assailant, her hastily made energy claws eager to thrust through the thick bits of muscle that held the beast's neck together. A quick stretch of her arms and the large splatter of blood that followed prompted her to leap off of her unfortunate foe, the rhinoceros-like monstrosity stumbling to the ground one piece at a time. Of course, if there was anything that Stephanie had learned from a decade-and-a-half of watching bad horror movies it was to always make certain that the big monster was dead and she soon discovered the wisdom of that message as she turned around to discover that another skull was starting to form above the hole in the neck that she had just left behind, the gray, dessicated flesh and sharp bone horn quickly putting themselves back together as well.

"And since when did Rhydon's Lightning Rod ability allow it to regrow its head?" she couldn't help but ask as she fired an energy blast that destroyed her recovering opposition altogether.

"Maybe it's a new addition feature to Pokemon Titanium or whatever the hell the new one's called," Kyle threw in, his avian creation bringing an end to the battle with a swift dive through the foes that remained. His surprisingly orderly mischief managed, the black-haired Green Lantern quickly descended to the mostly-charred ground below, his instincts persuading him to take a brief check of his ring's energy reserves and discover that he was still about half full.

"MONSTERS! HEATHENS!" shouted an indignant fellow. "How dare you inferior beings destroy my glorious creations?"

Kyle couldn't help but adopt a curious air as he turned to look upon Desaad's resentful countenance, the longtime supporter and sycophant of the Lord of Apokolips looking not the least bit threatening as a holographic image of him seemed to stand at the doorway where the laboratory freaks had previously been stored. Looking old, shrunken, and pallid to the point where his gaunt cheekbones seemed to be visible from his emaciated face, the chief weapons engineer of one of the greatest military empires in all of history looked to be keeping himself alive only through his sheer hatred of others and a desire to bring harm to anyone other than himself. Like so many under Darkseid's unyielding servitude, he was perhaps a soul that could have been saved from the penalties brought about by the dark machinations he now followed or conducted so eagerly but the simple fact of the matter was that the mad genius was also once a tool that could have been employed by someone willing to mend him to their fashion.

And Darkseid was master of destruction and reconstruction.

"We beat up all of his little genetic knitting projects and then he calls _us _inferior?" Kyle pondered aloud, his words a rather blunt but still effective way of occupying Desaad's saner thoughts.

"Hey, it's not my place to argue over somebody else's insanity," Stephanie replied, her lively eyes darting back and forth in order to get a glimpse at everything except what she probably should have been looking at. "Ooooooh, shiny!" she then declared while stooping to stare at a flask that had somehow not been destroyed by the previous scrap, the bulbous container filled with some yellow, bubbly concoction that Stephanie was too intrigued about to care about what it was.

"I will not allow you to interfere with my work any longer!" Desaad implored, his command sounding a bit more snappish than stern. "You will pay dearly for your intolerable transgressions!"

"Aw, what are you gonna do about it, ghostie? Besides, it's not like Batsie ever lets me play around with his stuff," Stephanie said with a pout, the impulsive young warrior predictably ignoring another threat on her life. "I don't know what his deal is," she continued to gripe while picking up the glass flagon with her right middle and ring finger. "I mean, I got a B in high school chemistry class so it's not like I don't know what I'm doing with this stuff."

Rayner paid close attention to the rage broiling over Desaad's features as Stephanie casually tossed the flask over her shoulder, the glass shattering easily against the metal floor. The sharp gasp that leaked from the sadist's lips only seconds later tempted Kyle to turn around again and see his peer (for definite lack of a better word) tapping her left finger against a series of test tubes she had collected in her right hand, the intergalactic champion for good apparently seeing if she could turn the things into some form of makeshift musical instrument. As one would suspect, it only took a handful of seconds before she tired of the task and tossed the glass pipes into the air, her thoughts quickly creating an emerald-green baseball bat that she used to gaily smash the cylinders to bits.

"Guess you really are a true student of The Batman," Kyle said quickly, the freelance cartoonist relishing the opportunity to make such a dreadfully awful play on words.

"YOU HAVE FORFEITED YOUR LIVES!" Desaad howled, his unfettered fury making itself clear despite the natural blunting of his holographic technology. "YOUR BONES AND VITAL ORGANS WILL DECORATE THE TROPHY HALL OF OUR LORD DARKSEID AND YOUR TORMENT WILL SERVE AS A CHERISHED TALE FOR GENERATIONS TO COME!"

"Well, that just gives me more of a reason to just go ahead and break your stuff," Stephanie reasoned while turning her attention to the surrounding blackboards, the young Green Lantern controlling her energy blasts in the manner of a conductor coordinating a symphonic orchestra. "Weedy little waaaarrioooooor!" she crooned over the zing of the laser fire and the explosions that followed. COME OUT AND PLAAAAAAYYAAAAAAAY!"

_GROOOOOOOAR!_

Even Robin couldn't help but give pause as the force of the surrounding roar caused even the large room she was in to tremble.

"Hey! That doesn't sound like a feeble, pasty buttlicking sadist at all."

While Stephanie conjectured aloud, Kyle busied himself by looking to and fro in an effort to find where the enormous stomping sounds were coming from. The mystery was soon unfortunately solved, however, as a gargantuan beast burst through the eastern wall, the four-legged monster easily 40 feet tall with mustard-yellow skin that was practically covered with harsh scales and dangerously sharp spikes of skin that lined its massive legs and the sides of its back. The roar to follow revealed numerous sharp rows of teeth surrounding a midnight-black tongue, the monster's enormous snout bristling with an unfamiliar energy signature that caused the brows of the golden-haired Lantern to furrow. The tension only mounted as Kyle's first assault casually rattled off the creature's massive chest, the attack's lack of effectiveness providing a strong indication that the tint of their newfound opponent was a bit more than a mere coincidence.

"Behold The Hiddon!" Desaad said with near reverence in response to the look of momentary dismay on the faces of the Green Lanterns. "This beast is merely the first of an army of fiends that will serve my master Darkseid as we destroy your colleagues in The Green Lantern Corps. Still, if such a thought does cause you dismay," he added in an impressively smarmy manner, "do take heart that your failed efforts will make for excellent test data."

"Umm, I'm thinking playtime is over, sprout," Kyle said cautiously.

Stephanie, despite her desire to do so, couldn't quite bring herself to disagree.

* * *

The feeling of her body sliding and tumbling against the hard, stone floor of Darkseid's throne room was becoming far too familiar to Kara's liking. Likewise, the look of unflinching certainty that radiated from the face of her opponent was also becoming quite displeasing, the confidence in Darkseid's cold, crimson eyes flying in the face of everything she had planned for and wanted to do.

"I advise you not to succumb to the frustration that comes about with failure, Kara Zor-el of Krypton. You have far exceeded your vainglorious cousin in terms of the battlefield, both in physical as well as tactical skills, and that is hardly as small of a feat as many of your contemporaries would like to imagine."

Kara didn't hide her scowl as she floated back to an upright position, her boot-clad feet scraping the ground as she bent herself back down to her starting point. "But Kal has beat you before," she said while snorting back a droplet of blood that threatened to slip from her left nostril. "That means I can do the same!"

The cold sizzle of Darkseid's Omega Beams rang through Kara's ears, the speed of the shot leaving the half-Praxian with little time to counter with a flash of heat vision that pushed the deadly energy back from her. Gritting her teeth and adjusting the energy she had at her disposal, she allowed the displeased expression she had drawn from the Lord of Apokolips to motivate her to do more.

"How much effort have you put into attempting to strengthen every facet of yours that you are willing to face, my child?" Darkseid asked simply while keeping up his end of the maelstrom that began to melt the hard stone beneath their feet. "Are you so foolish to believe that at least a portion of those who oppose your goals would not do the same thing?"

Kara responded with a bright bolt of energy from her left hand, the shot of eldritch energy heading straight and strong towards Darkseid's heart. Wisely keeping her efforts going even as Darkseid desperately summoned up a constricted force barrier in front of his massive chest, the proud warrior woman found herself grateful that her opponent's new task allowed her to push back the undeniable force of the Omega Beams back away from her own weary body. Her heart let out a painful lurch and her temples throbbed as she began to gain ground over the course of several agonizing long seconds, the silence from her adversary encouraging her that she had proved that she could hold her own. Then, moments as her wave of heat vision and the Omega Beams were nearly converged at the center of their hellacious theater of war, Kara threw her body to the left in a sideways roll that allowed the Omega Beams to pass her by. Then, zooming forward with as much speed as she could muster, the knowledge that the deadly red rays were only just behind her feet quite fresh in her mind, she ran her outstretched fists into Darkseid's abdomen, the follow-up attack nothing but a stalling maneuver that forced the dark warlord to cut off his indefatigable Omega Beams only a fraction of a second before they plunged into his own black heart.

Then, just like that, the two combatants could only look at one another as they worked to recover themselves, the force and pace of the battle before forcing the both of them to take long, desperate breaths. They backed away from one another both out of instinct as well as a mutual desire to see just what was going on here, the moment of silence suddenly becoming quite loud.

"How I have longed for this day, Kara Zor-el," Darkseid said raggedly, the pride in his declaration powering through his own momentary fatigue. "For years I have endured losses and setbacks brought about by my own pride, suffered the failures within conflicts I would have easily prevailed over in my youth. I will no longer allow myself to be reduced to some powerless despot ready to be cast down by some self-important, so-called champion. With The Anti-Life Equation at my beck and call, I shall fashion the eternal glory that can only be constructed by my mighty hands."

Kara sucked in her breath while narrowing her eyes. "So glad you've had your little epiphany," she offered with a thin veil of serenity in the wake of her rising anger. "But if it's one thing I've learned from the home of my birth is that creatures like you are always destined to fail."

"Precisely the words offered by those who refuse to accept the inevitability offered by time," Darkseid countered. "I say once again, Kara Zor-el. I offer you to take a proud place as the head of my Furies. Surely you've come to realize that neither Mister Wayne nor your half-bred paramour can truly aid you in harnessing the power that hides within you?"

"And it won't be uncovered by falling under your sway either." The hypothesis caused Darkseid to scowl, the prospective sovereign of the cosmos looking to Kara as if he had surrendered himself to something he did not wish to admit. "Even if I don't win this fight, _you _surely know that you will never fully control everything you want to hold."

* * *

Donna could smell the blood and sweat as she slowly pushed the _Mugalshir _closer and closer to Mad Harriet's brawny neck, her own heart beating out a strong rhythm against her chest as she did so. A swell of fetid breath crashed against her nose as the cracked slaughterer beneath her gave out a growl of defiance but still the outcast of Themyscira kept pushing, determined to finish the job that someone else had started.

"Do not. . . do not think that your victory is assured, little Terran whore," Harriet hissed back with the self-confidence that could only be found in the throes of lunacy. "We Furies shall fight back to our very last breath."

"As shall we," Donna growled back, the former Wonder Girl quite confident that The Black Dog could hold off Lashina and Stompa long enough for her to finish her grisly deed. "We will fight Darkseid and all he sends against us with every fiber of our beings," she added while continuing to push her hands forward, the impossibly sharp edge of the gleaming silver saber creeping towards Harriet's sweat-strewn flesh.

No warning was offered as the long corridor became enveloped by a misty, silver light, the effects of whatever the bizarre substance happened to be quickly taking its toll on friend and foe alike. The Amazon did her best to fight whatever it was, or at least try and get a handle on where she could even begin to defend herself, while keeping a firm grip on her borrowed blade. It was if her entire body was being shifted, from her flesh and blood to her very thoughts, and the strain of it all summoned a call to exhaustion that quickly became impossible to ignore. Her sharp ears could only dimly pick up the clatter of the _Mugalshir _falling uselessly to the floor before that and the rest of her body shut down altogether, her mind following just behind.

"Such unbridled determination," observed Granny Goodness as she stepped back into sight, the withered, old war horse regarding the remains of the battle with her usual detached air. "It will serve you well as you aid Lord Darkseid in achieving his true destiny." Pleased with the results she had gleaned from her glance of everything around her, she went to regard the other half of her objective while noting the fallen forms of her usually loyal subordinates. "I'm sure you understood the need for your sacrifice, my Furies. After all, I certainly could not have brought this to being without the aid of a sufficient distraction."

Darkseid's second-in-command could not help but let out a smile as she regarded Donna Troy and Lloyd Thomas, the two of them still, silent, and ready to be remade in thanks to the power of The Anti-Life Equation.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Pardon me for a moment as I check to see if I'm actually still here. Man, this has been a weird couple of weeks! On the plus side, I am now living in a domicile that is strictly my own. No more weird roommates carrying on about religion or Sarah Palin or why they can't clean up the common room when their schedule is a great deal less cluttered than mine. No sir, I've got my imaginary evil minions, my stacks and stacks of work, and the occasional unobtrustive friend or prospective girl friend on my docket and that suits me just fine! On the minus side, it appears that the city of Memphis wanted to take a week off from being a hellhole to make certain that it put some particularly good screws to me. I won't go into detail about here but just allow me to say that it's probably a good thing that I don't have access to Sauron's Ring of Power or The Anti-Life Equation or The Pick of Destiny or some other MacGuffin-type device at my beck and call. The temptation to wipe out much of the rest of humanity would simply be too much to bear.

But not you guys! You guys are awesome! Particularly the ones who review (offers cheesy thumbs up). Come to think of it, how come I have about 200 some odd people who put this story in their favorites but only three or four of you guys send reviews? I mean, I think I've got a legitimate beef here! Don't be afraid to step up and tell me how much I've disappointed you. I'm a part of Shelby County Schools after all, a title that makes me quite well-equipped to endure the slings and arrows of those who pay nothing for my services.

Okay, I'm done being melodramatic and snippy. Thanks to everybody that keeps this story going (200,000 hits strong apparently) and I'll do my best to see that the next 88 issues are as apparently good as the last share.

And we all know how that starts. . .

* * *

_Issue #89 Preview_

So, just so we're clear as to everything that's going on, Orion and many of the finest warriors of New Genesis have been brutally killed, Hawkman may very well be off to join them, Kyle and Steph are trapped in Desaad's laboratory taking on a beast specifically designed to kill them, Nightwing is stuck in the lower levels of Darkseid's fortress with no backup in sight, Donna and Lloyd are caught within the grip of The Anti-Life Equation and Kara is fighting an increasingly losing battle against the Lord of Apokolips himself.

There is a bright side though. I just saved hundreds of dollars on my car insurance by switching to Grange. Honestly, you should never trust an animated gecko.

Next issue: Best and Worst of You. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	89. Best and Worst of You

Issue #89

Best and Worst of You

Metron narrowed his already lean line of sight as he continued to monitor the goings-on from his unique vantage point high above Apokolips. Furrowing his weathered brow as he took in the various twists and turns, he couldn't help but gave a silent nod of acknowledgment to Darkseid for playing his side of the field to near-perfection, the longtime warlord showcasing his experience with the proper proliferation of troops allowing him to earn a small number of small victories. Still, though the successes may have been slight and could soon be easily driven askew, the death of his son along with a grievous percentage of some of their finest military personnel New Genesis could offer would most likely serve as a crippling blow in that centuries-long stalemate. That success, in turn, forced the question of whether or not Darkseid would still be in possession of The Anti-Life Equation after this page of history to play a much smaller role, another dark note in the struggle between The Lord of Apokolips and everything he wished to conquer.

"Well, now this is getting interesting."

A frown slowly twisted onto Metron's face, the direction of interest within the intrigued tone of his unwanted guest clearly not steered towards what he himself had been perusing. Of course, he would have been quite unwise to ignore the potential interest to be found in the individual struggles taking place below, how each champion each drew ever closer to their point of twisting one way or another. Donna Troy and Lloyd Thomas would have to decide whether the certainty within an eternity of nothingness was more or less appealing than a lifetime of successes and failures. Darkseid would have to select between cementing his hold over what he had fought so hard to claim or risk letting it run loose for fear of losing everything. Each individual destiny now had unfurled themselves like a fresh tome, the material begging to be written, edited, and continued again.

Metron supposed that perhaps it was only natural that Sinestro would be interested in such matters. After all, such matters served as so much of his apparent self-proclaimed design.

"I ask you, Sinestro of Qward," Metron said softly but with an iron-like determination rooted deep within his candor. "How can you continue to claim such virtuous ambitions while you simultaneously revel in the suffering and degradation of others?"

The first and last of the Yellow Lanterns replied with a sneer, a response that seemed to perfectly fit the contours of his wide forehead and noble jaw line. "Come now, Metron. Let's not start adopting a holier-than-thou attitude, shall we?" he asked while calmly continuing to levitate just to Metron's left. "There's nothing wrong with admitting that your intentions for being here are just as self-serving as mine."

"Very well," Metron snapped back, the New God exhibiting a sense of irritation that wasn't quite fitting for an impartial watcher of history. "Then perhaps you can tell me what _I_ am here for?"

Sinestro rewarded himself with a smile. "Like I, you are here to witness the tales of those who triumph under adversity. However, just as you seek to discover how time will twist and bend as you sit idly by, I will observe the chaos and claim what I require from the remains."

Metron did not bother to offer a hard glare or a countering remark, the shame of being seen through already enough punishment for the time being. "The premature death of Orion troubles me greatly," he confessed while templing his fingers in a gesture of contemplation. "There was no reason not to believe that the prophecy concerning the son and the father was not bound in astral certainty."

"Bah! I would hope that a god would not put such faith in the ramblings of tramps and charlatans," Sinestro replied with a huff. "Anyone who has ever spent time on the battlefield would be able to recognize that Orion would never be a match for his father. His failure to overcome the drawbacks of his anger would always provide the disadvantage that his father would need to win the day.

"Yes, a fine point," Metron noted. "Still, I must confess that the only justifiable alternative appears to be little more than a replacement of one form of anger with another."

"And I must confess that I had hoped the gods of this so-called Fourth Age would have learned by now to not underestimate the fortitude of the mere mortals they try and fail to lord over," Sinestro gamely countered. "Though the act was orchestrated by Darkseid, did Orion just not fall at the hands of his father's all too mortal foot soldiers and mercenaries? Was the death of Earth's past guardian of magic not brought about by The Spectre's loss of control, an element of that beast's nature that could only be provided by a human host?" The silence Metron gave to him in return provided enough evidence that he had made his point on those regards. Turning his attention back to the fort, the purple-skinned player of fate continued to look on as the great ax fell.

"Do not miscalculate the untapped power of Kara Zor-el," Sinestro gently warned his host. "It is one of the few things that could save or destroy everything that will remain when this day is done."

* * *

Seventeen months spent dressing up in an eggplant-colored cape and cowl had given Stephanie more than enough experience in the field of fighting losing battles. However, though the Oan power ring on her finger had given her more than enough confidence to realize that she would no longer be delving into such uncomfortable situations as frequently as she did when she was Spoiler, Robin had made it a point to not let her need for good humor get in the way of recognizing when she may be about to be deeply screwed. Her frequent training sessions with Kara, Lloyd, and Wally also gave her plenty of opportunities to be humbled, those mild humiliations allowing her to realize that despite as far as she had come there was always a way that she could still get her ass handed to her.

It didn't take much to recognize that Kyle wasn't quite as experienced in that particular field of study. In his defense though, it wasn't as if the guy was the type who went looking for fights before he became a galactic guardian and it's not like being given something with the power to create damn near anything you ever wanted had ever been the most direct ticket to humility under fire. Conversely, those handicaps didn't take away from the fact that her friend was still putting too much faith in the ring on his finger, the knowledge that death may soon come a knocking still not present enough to spur the black-haired Lantern into a wiser course of action. Thus, with that wisdom well in hand, Stephanie chose to do something phenomenally stupid by soaring directly into the beast's path, the spiral energy beams generated by her ring pointlessly fizzling or bouncing off The Hiddon's stern hide as she flew in front of the animal's eyes before it could dash forward and tear into the wide-open Kyle Rayner with its enormous claws.

"Robin!" Rayner yelled as Stephanie avoided those vicious talons by a matter of inches, the rising sweep of its claws looking as if The Hiddon was trying to deal with some mildly pesky bit of vermin "Hold on! I'll buy you some breathing room!"

_No! _Stephanie thought as she saw Rayner push himself forward out of the corner of her eye, her own knowledge of just what her foe was truly looking for not even leaving her with the time to shout out a warning. The plea to stop stayed stuck in her throat as Desaad's creation swiped its left paw back across its torso, the muscular, yellow-tinted sinew straining from the expansion of its powerful muscles while the sharp bones of its claws sliced through her fellow Green Lantern. The beast had been too quick with its attack and that was the only thing that kept Kyle from being killed on the spot but Robin could still smell the coppery stench and hear the vile scream that lay strangled in Rayner's throat as he fell to the lab table below like a stone. Thankful that Kyle was still alive, she let her fear quickly turn itself to anger as she created her energy claws out of simple instinct, the Earthling drawing closer like an angry hornet to lash at The Hiddon's eyes. She came inches from losing the lower half of her left leg from an angry snap of the beast's jaws but still she stayed right in front of it, refusing to move.

At the same time, Kyle looked up from his prone, broken spot on the floor as he took in the bizarre sight. A small, lucid part of him couldn't help but think back to the countless supply of monster films he watched back in high school, specifically those scenes when military planes would surround a monster trying to destroy a big city. He thought about how he would laugh or shake his head every now and again when those poorly crafted spots on the screen got swatted aside by the true star of the show, the budding artist in him critiquing as much as he could while hypothesizing and planning where he would make things better when he got his turn at the wheel. But now, as pints of his own blood continued to jet from the gap in his belly and small, tattered portions of his right lung lay on his chest, he just wanted to warn the little plane buzzing around the unstoppable force.

_No. Don't. Can't you see there's no way to win__?_

A blinding flash of emerald light made his eyes cross while his throat let out a gasp, the disorientation staying with Rayner even as he felt himself being picked up and carried away. A sliver of his active mind managed to rouse itself back to life before his senses had a chance to do the same, the pressure on what remained of his abdomen rousing him back and encouraging him to put his own waning supply of eldritch energy into maintaining the spectral tourniquet that Stephanie had just fashioned for him. A slight, approving grunt informed him that he had made the right decision before the aggrieved howl of The Hiddon reminded him that things may have been just as perilous as before.

"I've bought us some time!" Robin finally barked out as she landed back on the ground, the two of them now only a handful of yards from the remains of the entrance they had blasted through only minutes before. "There's got to be a way that we can get out of here!"

Rayner felt the blood rising up from his throat and struggled to send it back down before mustering the will to speak. "Mebbe if we. . . we put the energy of our rings together. . . we can bust out of the force barrier."

"Well, it sounds like a better idea than being violently manufactured into cold cuts," Stephanie hypothesized, the small fingers of her right hand quickly wrapping around Kyle's ring. The close proximity between her ring and one of its kin quickly bound both weapons together and her knack for energy manipulation hastily collected the energy so it would be at her full disposal. She wisely chose to keep one eye on her recovering foe before sending a tight, powerful blast of energy straight at the barrier, the psychological strain soon showing itself physically as a thin trickle of sweat to slide onto the bridge of her nose. Thankfully, it only took a sliver of energy in comparison to complete her next task: an upward and forward push of her arms that allowed her to carefully toss Kyle through the aperture in the barrier before it could force itself shut once again.

"STEPHANIE!" Kyle shouted the moment his pain-addled mind was able to put everything together, his bound stomach letting out a painful lurch as he staggered back to his feet and impotently struck his fists against Desaad's barrier. "What did you do?"

"The best thing I could think of at the time," Robin quickly replied before swerving around to meet the powerful charge of The Hiddon. "Now get out of here and help the Thangaarians! They need you a helluva lot more than I do!"

"Steph, you can't have that much power left!" Kyle cried over the increasingly louder havoc, the crackle of the energy field stinging against the light calluses along his palms. "There's no way you can take that thing on!"

"Shows what you know, Kylie Raynogue," Stephanie murmured back while keeping her eyes away from the sight of her anxious comrade. "Now clear out and give some room for Momma to dance," she ordered while leaping high into the air to avoid the initial snap of The Hiddon's bile-dabbled jaws. The quick maneuver not only saved her life but also left her out of hearing range of anything the other Green Lantern would say. She took a bizarre amount of comfort in that as Desaad's cold but uproarious laughter rang high and loud through her ears before the beating of her heart and the stomping of the scientist's foul monstrosity quickly eclipsed it.

* * *

It was truly a beautiful day.

A newly escaped butterfly flitted past Donna's eyes as she kept that thought clearly in her mind as the tender reward of a spring wind ran through her long, black hair and in and about her sundress. So much of her life had become so complicated now, her life as a so-called heroine to the people and her struggles of finding a place within a world she was all but tossed into making it sadly simple to ignore the easy wonders that time could offer. Her small successes brought a smile to her face before a chillier portion of that aforementioned gust suddenly struck her stomach and caused her to let out a tickled gasp, her long fingers subconsciously moving up to her lips to stifle it before it could turn into a laugh. Fortunately, she failed in her endeavor and her startled intake of breath drew a hearty round of laughter from the handsome man lying beside her beneath the aged willow tree.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?" Terry Long asked tenderly, her husband brushing his right thumb against her lips as he did so.

"Sweetie, I'm a house boat with legs," Donna quickly replied, the wry frown she commonly employed when Roy or Wally had told her something that was absolutely impossible to believe quickly making its way onto her face. "I've gained 20 pounds, 30 of which went straight to my ass. . ."

"And just how did you pull that off?"

"Five from my biceps, three from my intestines and two from my skull and please try harder to listen to your severely pregnant wife," Donna hurriedly explained, a brief edge of annoyance mixing nicely with her own amusement. "Meanwhile I get to watch you going on your morning jog and see Wally running at Mach 3 and seethe as Richard pulls off triple somersaults in the Titans training room and here I'm left to waddle about like an ugly duckling with a craving for peanut butter and radish on rye." The longtime Teen Titan couldn't help but screw up her face while catching her breath, the expectant Amazon still quite astonished that her cravings had steered her towards that peculiar course. She felt her knotted eyebrows ease up as Terry moved forward to plant a gentle kiss on the center of her forehead. The rest of her body was quick to go into a similarly gelatinous state as her husband's firm hands slipped down her shoulders, his thick fingers just skimming past the straps of her dress.

"Well, let me offer my opinion," Terry softly replied. "I love that look of frustration on your face when you know you could be out there saving the world because that means I can try to make you feel better." The redhead did his best to keep a straight face as he slyly moved his hands downward. "I adore the pounds you've gained in your ass," he added while pinching said posterior, the surprise contact causing Donna to yelp and voluntarily scoot forward. "And I truly love that I have the honor of being the father of this child."

Donna softly shut her eyes as Terry placed his left hand upon her swollen belly. She smiled with equal tenderness, a small, irrational part of her hoping that this would allow her to feel more of the little life growing inside of her, that tiny something that didn't have anything to do with Rhea or Diana or The Amazons or even New Cronus. Just like her marriage to this wonderful man, her child was something that none of her creators, trainers, and manipulators could claim for their own. It was an irreversible act in time born of love and affection and no one but she could have brought it to fruition.

And with that knowledge, she felt him. Her child. Her beautiful, baby boy as it continued to stumble through the pathways that would lead him to the world she would spend a lifetime to make better for him and everybody else.

But then she felt him fall.

The strain of her rising heartbeat nearly drowned out her husband's startled gasp, the sight of Terry's blood-soaked hand causing her own limbs to quiver frantically. She felt her heart and stomach contract, her very soul seemingly clinching up as her mind's basic instincts took the steps to ensure its survival no matter what the cost.

"What? What is this?" Terry murmured, his eyes widening as he looked away from his hands, back to his wife's belly, and then straight at the strain seemingly carved into Donna's face. "What do you think you're doing? Stop that! STOP KILLING HIM!!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Donna heard herself pleading back, her tone childish and worthless and oh so worthless. "I don't know what's happening!"

Terry's response was little more than a belligerent howl. "Why are you always doing this?! You're always looking out for yourself no matter what happens to anybody else! Who says you get to be the one to stay alive? What about our son? What about me!!"

"I don't want him to die!" Donna screamed back, the blood and bones that was once her son now impossibly flowing up her throat and down her legs, the refuse of her child causing her to physically choke while her mind went into overdrive. Fat tears welled down her eyes as she moved forward to wrap her husband in her arms, her sudden ability to move around with greater urgency quickly realized before it struck her like a gunshot to the spine. "I don't want you to go. Please don't leave me." she strangled out as her throat began to close. "I'M SO SORRY!!"

"What's there to be sorry about?" Kyle Rayner calmly asked back. "I mean, if it wasn't for you then I wouldn't be as happy as I am now."

Donna didn't know how she had suddenly become hale and hearty once again. She didn't know why it was Kyle Rayner holding her now or why the brisk gust was now sifting through the black hair that she loved to run through with her fingers but it didn't take long at all for her concerns to be put aside. She allowed herself to take too much comfort from her boyfriend's warmth, thoughtlessly taking privilege in the thoughts of what she could build with this man, someone who had so much taken from him through no fault of his own.

"After all, I was able to get away from you before you ended up signing my death certificate," Kyle elaborated while sporting a carefree smile, the same, toothy grin that almost always graced his face just after they made love. "And don't feel too bad about killing your husband and child, Donna," he added while drifting his fingers along her forehead in order to brush aside an errant clump of hair that had fallen there. "It's not like you were ever going to have what it took to be a real girl. I mean, you're not Alex, you sure as hell ain't Wonder Woman, and you certainly aren't one of those Titans of Myth or whatever the shit you think you are this week."

Donna was willing to give so much to have the strength to fire back a worthy reply, maybe something like a bold claim of defiance that Diana would have delivered to one of her many enemies when they thought they had her beat or a quick verbal poke that Dick would always use to get under his opponent's skin.

But Kyle was right. She wasn't like them.

"You're best off being nothing," Kyle went on, the even-tempered Green Lantern concluding her unspoken thought. "At least then a couple of people could look up at your statue and think that they could be something special. How about that, sweetie bumpkin? A mound of rock is more useful than you've ever been."

"Ohhhh, I think you're selling her a bit short now," Roy Harper offered while stopping and scooching his lean physique over to lie at Donna's right. "I mean, you've got no idea about the things I've done to that body of hers," he said with a smarmy leer while lewdly sliding his right hand up from the spot just above her crotch up until his long fingers grazed the underside of her breasts. "Besides," he added while bringing his right ring finger to his lips to lick off what he had gathered, his tongue seemingly twisting around the blood-drenched digit. "It's just her way."

The former Wonder Girl could do nothing as Roy closed in quickly and stole a kiss from her quivering lips, the mild grip Kyle had on her not nearly enough to keep her in place if she didn't want to be there. Arsenal seemed to know that and broadcast his disgust with a sympathetic shake of his head.

"Yep, that's Donna Troy for ya," Roy noted while pulling Donna away from Kyle and holding her tight. "The Teen Titans' own little bike rack."

* * *

Wally West had to learn how to love to run.

Barry had always made it look so easy, his smile that always seemed all too happy to take its place upon his uncle's face appearing as if The Flash before him could ostensibly summon it on a whim. Maybe it was the fact that Barry had been older, discovered what it was like to be vulnerable before The Speed Force came around to grace him but, as far as Wally concerned, he couldn't help but think that maybe he had missed a lesson or two along the way.

The Flash rendered his body intangible as the bounty hunters down the next hall continued their blind scatter shooting from whatever guns they had available to them, the hired guns having doubtlessly abandoned any idea of aiming and just hoping they would get lucky. He allowed himself a hasty chuckle while taking the mercenaries down with a quick series of Wushu-style thrust kicks and straight jabs. Likewise, the trio of Parademons that trailed behind their quickly fallen comrades fared little better, the beasts barely having the time to raise their spears and halberds before being thrown into the walls like leaves in a tornado from the force of the fastest feet alive. As was his way, the crimson-garbed speedster was on his way even before his victims could fall, his lean, sinewy body darting around and through the tight, lower passageways of Darkseid's fortress in the midst of his continued efforts to make his way down into the depths.

The gifts that came with being The Flash had long proven to be easy to find but tough to keep from escaping. He knew he could take heart in his wife and the little wonders they brought into being, that undeniable proof that even his trembling hands could hold on to something even if he was running at full speed, if only for a little while. That relief allowed him to persevere as his mind forced him to work out the number of seconds that Dick could keep himself alive. He skidded and stopped in front of one, two, three dead ends, the beating of his sturdy heart getting a bit quicker with each minor failure.

He took a nanosecond to think about if Barry had estimated just how long he had to save his wife when Eobard Thawne had smashed her skull. He wondered if Barry had ever thought about having children and whether he also worried about running so fast and so far away that there was no way that even he could have saved them in time for what life would have to offer. He couldn't have! How else could he have looked so at peace as he ran circles around him again and again?

Wally shook himself free from such stifling inquiries while pushing his way through eight wrong turns before finally rushing into what he thought was his destination, the electromagnetic interference provided by both the eldritch energy within the fortress and the volcanic activity that ran beneath it now not enough to blind Nightwing's location from him. Following the flow of kinetic energy, he rushed across one of the more expansive lava pits, his tremendous speed protecting his body from the heat below his feet. He knew he couldn't worry about Jai or Iris or Linda or every single freaking thing that could attack them while their backs were turned when he would be left unable or unknowing of how to deal with it. There was nothing he could do about that now. However, he could make certain that Uncle Nightwing would still be around so that his oldest friend could still sit his children down and dispense nervously told stories while failing pathetically to flirt was his wife.

So he ran.

He ran and he loved it.

He ran and damn near got his head blown off by an explosive Batarang.

"So nice of you to finally show your ass, Mister West," Nightwing said in greeting, the gleefully snide remark wafting over the explosions and hissings of caustic gases that rose from the flash bombs, small incendiaries, and gas pellets he had been firing into the throng of Apokoliptian soldiers around him. "Tell me, is it wrong that I'm quelling my feelings of inferiority by taking joy at how much you suck?"

Wally managed to save his best friend's life twice before he had the chance to respond verbally, first when he disarmed a Thangaarian mercenary that had Nightwing dead to rights with her sniper rifle and then when a rage-possessed Parademon broke through the gas and explosions and came inches from snapping Nightwing's neck before he landed a jump kick that sent the beast flying.

"Please tell me that you've found what we're supposed to be looking for down here."

"Oh yeah," Nightwing answered, his back still turned to his many, many opponents while his fingers continued to tap away at the console in front of him. "So be a dear and watch my back as I crack this computer, would you?" he asked patiently, the external translation equipment stored within the detective's Mother Box firing to life as he worked to decipher the foreign symbols that had appeared on the screen.

Meanwhile, The Flash didn't even bother to raise an eyebrow as he turned to regard the dozens of extraterrestrials who clearly wanted their heads, hearts, and anything else they could get their hands on whether they were dead or not. Quite frankly, imminent death suddenly seemed like a lot less to worry about then the question of how he was going to save for a college tuition fund.

* * *

The first, blurred thought that ran through Lloyd's head as his eyes pried themselves open to observe the world was that he needed to shave. Bugger the luck but it did seem that just enough time had passed for what was once an acceptable amount of stubble on his face to transform themselves into an itchy collection of facial hair that was simply just too much to avoid any longer. He could feel the discomfort as the slight, black bristles ran against the back of his beloved's silk dressing gown, the slight pulling sensation against his chin causing him to let out a groan of discontent that he tried his best to stifle by pulling his lover closer to his chest. Shutting his hazel orbs once again while nuzzling his nose through the girl's hair, he finally brought his lips to rest at the nape of her neck, the sheer. . . rightness of what was going on within his bedchamber taking him far away from the minor inconveniences his body had to offer.

"All right, we've got a cold one on our hands here," announced Harvey Bullock, the hardened detective making his announcement in his usual quick, barking fashion. "Now I know we've got ourselves another open-shut case here but I want all of ya combing through this place 'till you pull every god damn hair out of here. No excuses."

The Black Dog ignored the half-dozen or so officers of the law that had all but burst into his private quarters, his interests far more devoted to the task of holding his girl close. After all, he knew enough about how these people operated to recognize that they wouldn't bother him unless he allowed it to happen. They would sweep in, do their job right by the book, and then leave him right where he was.

Mao would make sure of that. Mao would never let anything bad happen to him.

"What cha got, Detective Harper," asked Bullock, the unfortunate toothpick substituting for the gumshoe's cheap cigarettes looking as if it would splinter between the teeth it was clenched between.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir, just as you said," Detective Harper replied, the thirty-something female officer with skin like thick molasses reminding Lloyd that he should probably find some time this afternoon to bake a pie. "The woman's name is Amia Thomas. Twenty-eight years old, no job, moved to Gotham after her husband scampered off without a trace. She's been living here in this apartment for the last three years."

"What are you guys talkin' about?" Lloyd said, confusion flowing into his eyes and countenance upon realizing that his grown-up body had released the voice of a frightened boy. "I think somebody should be at the door right now. Somebody might want to come in and say hello."

"Any clues on the cause of death?" Bullock soldiered on.

"All the signs are pointing to neglectful care," Harper went on, a grim but professional certainty in her tone. "Jesus, what kind of bastard could let something like this happen?"

"That's enough, Detective," a calm but stern-sounding man answered in response as Lloyd felt his side of the bed sink down with the addition of an unfamiliar weight. Turning his head around, The Black Dog had just enough time to recognize the wizened face of Jim Gordon, the veteran gumshoe adjusting his spectacles while letting out a tired sigh. "Jesus Christ, kid. Ya got to stop doing things like this. What do you think everybody is going to say?"

Lloyd suddenly felt like a turtle that had fallen on its back as he struggled to roll himself up into a seated position, his short, lithe arms slowly releasing the deathly strong grip he had around his mother. Widening his already over-large eyes, his memories fired him back to the time he spent watching that fountain of red hair grow pale as her body had grown cold, those rich, scarlet strands that she said he loved to reach and pull on when he was just a baby suddenly looking much less appealing.

"I'm sorry," the man once again said in a boy's voice, the confusion that loomed before quickly faded away. "I. . . I tried really hard this time."

"I know, son."

Lloyd could see the sad, sympathetic frown on Gordon's face as the older man moved forward to ruffle his hair. He somehow knew enough to realize that it was a purely paternal move, something that he thought his own father would have done if he had ever stayed still long enough to think of doing it. Still, he took what he could get, the half-demon dutifully following the veteran officer as they padded out of the room, the two of them leaving the remains to be poked and prodded by strangers. He heard another knock at his bedroom door and once again felt tempted to move to answer it but he knew what would happen if he did. Looking away from Gordon would mean no more Gordon and then he wouldn't know where to go or what to do. Several long seconds continued to pass as he waddled behind The Batman's longtime colleague, their travels eventually taking them into a room that shouldn't have fit in his idyllic scene. The hallway was much too expansive and filthy to properly belong in stately Wayne Manor, the walls too caked with mildew, refuse and regret.

Gordon seemed to pay the mess little mind as he wandered over to a small cage just ahead of where they had come from, the tiny barred enclosure still more than enough to easily contained the remains of Naomi Mitchell. Lloyd couldn't help but tear his eyes toward her, the pale, pretty face of the closest thing he had ever had to a mother remained untouched by time or injury while her familiar lab coat seemed to be coated with tears and blood. The legs that could have brought her closer to him had long been torn away and forgotten and the arms that she could hold him in were broken and burnt away. She could do nothing to hurt or heal anyone anymore, just as he had planned it to be.

"So beautiful," Jim said softly but with a wistful air as he ran his wrinkled fingers against the bars. "Even after what Vincent was able to do to her. It's a damn shame that Nightwing hasn't come along and visited in a while. I really thought he'd have more class than that."

Lloyd allowed himself just a couple more moments to stare, more than enough time to take in the pain that he deserved before following Jim further down the unfamiliar corridor.

"And here's another one of yours," Gordon went on as he came to another, sudden stop, his suddenly trembling hands slowly rising upward to pluck off the aged spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. "Still don't have a clue on who managed to get a hold of him but we do know that it was a nasty customer."

Lloyd would have given anything to be able to say something to Bruce as he lay on the trash-strewn floor. Still, the young man knew enough to realize that The Batman would never hear him. The older man's ears were little more than charred chunks of blistered muscle and scorched bone that only managed to hang on the sides of his face thanks to the few handful of tendons that hadn't been reduced to ashes. The rest of his latest mentor was in similar shape, his once powerful torso now scarred and emaciated and his legs looking like those two slabs of pork that Roy had accidentally dumped between the bars of the outside grill during that Fourth of July barbeque that had been unknowingly left to smolder until Labor Day. His eyes still had a bit of liquid in them, the observant blue orbs now soft, mushy and non-functional without the proper flow of blood to the brain.

"This one's not so bad," Lloyd whispered as tears threatened to spill from his eyes while he fought back to urge to scream. "He's still alive, right. I can still help him, right?"

"Well, let's hope not," Gordon said with a chuckle as he wrapped his strong, right arm around Lloyd's shoulders before ushering him down the hall. There was another knock at the door before the two of them could turn the corner but the commissioner's hold on him was tight enough to give Lloyd the confidence to turn his head and look back. He wanted to tell somebody to go answer it, maybe Bullock if he wasn't too busy working or Bruce if he wasn't too busy suffering horribly because of him.

"Maybe we can go get the door together," he suggested. "That way you won't have to go away."

Gordon let out a slight groan immersed with impatience as he continued to push the both of them forward. "Now, now, kid. We've wasted enough time as it is," he easily warned his younger comrade. "We've still got to get you to your appointment."

More familiar faces were there to greet Lloyd as he and Gordon turned and entered another hall, this one admittedly a bit cleaner and friendlier looking than the last. Cecilia was the first to say hello, the former archer letting out a chuckle as a quick lift of her left shoulder caused a gusher of blood to splurch through the hole where her arm had used to be.

"Hey, buddy," Arrowette said as her skin began to pale, the massive loss of blood causing her long, slender legs to pale. "Still up for strip poker this afternoon?"

It was too late for Lloyd to reply before he felt himself stumbling and nearly falling to the floor, his feeble limbs feeling as if they were to snap in two as he accidentally walked into Linda. He quickly moved to apologize but was soon to realize that she was too busy weeping silently, the strong woman refusing to break down completely so long as her children were able to see her. Lloyd found the decision to be rather foolish himself, particularly seeing as how Jai and Iris were too busy wailing and crying their eyes out, their tiny heads buried into their father's shoulders.

"Aw, he doesn't have any time for you, Cissers," The Flash replied with a reasonable amount of good cheer, the loss of his legs obviously leaving him bound to his own little bed. "After all, he's got miles to go before he sleeps."

"Yeah, and ya know 'e's still takin' that road less traveled by," Nigel Thornton chimed in, the portly barkeep smiling briefly before turning back to his very important task. His small tongue was just barely poking between his lips, the portly man slowly bringing his steak knife down to saw away at his kidney that he had left to lay on the dinner plate, the somewhat dull blade clearly having trouble cutting through the thick straps of sinew that hid away all the good stuff. "Want a bite, guv?"

"Oh, please do," Scandal implored as she patiently sat across from Nigel, his adopted big sister taking a moment to determine her proper share before spearing a portion of it with her fork and bringing it to her lips. "I mean, you can not let me finish all this."

"Sorry, sorry, no time for idle chatter," Gordon quickly answered for him as Lloyd was assaulted by the laughter that seemingly erupted from everyone around him. "We are late, late, for an important date," he reminded Lloyd while continuing to steer the young man towards a white door that seemed to tower over the both of them even from a distance.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The vibrations stemming from the force of the knocks on his door almost seemed to slam against Lloyd's temple, each little summon providing a quick but voluble caution to not go any further. Lloyd nearly yelled at someone to answer it but realized just as quickly that he didn't want to disturb anyone's recovery. The urge to break away and answer it himself was strong as well but he also knew that there was no way that he could have done that. His mother would have never liked to see him be that rude and uncouth so shortly after her passing on. Therefore, he continued to stand patiently and still as a stone as Gordon moved to open the door in front of them, the stark pallor of what had blocked them hastily rendered insignificant by the wonder of his reward.

His parched eyes drank in the sight of Kara, her strong body somehow wrapped comfortably within a wispy, forest-green sundress that seemed to cause her lightly tanned features to glimmer in the sunlight that managed to poke through the foam-covered windows. His heart stopped as she turned to say hello, the crystalline blue eyes he had fallen in love with so very long ago shining brightly for him, only for him.

"I'm sorry," he offered as a salutation.

The smile that served as Kara's initial reply tempted him to just rush forward and protect her for forever but, again, he didn't want to be rude.

"I told you it's okay, silly," Kara brightly offered back. "You can't be around to look after us all the time. There's so much more that you have to do." The words allowed Lloyd to present a hint of a smile but the childish pout and the quick hunch of his girl's shoulders as she placed her hands on her hips caused him to flinch and freeze up once again. "Still, you really should come by and see me more often. I miss you."

Lloyd suddenly couldn't look at Kara anymore. "I can't," he murmured. "Not good enough. Not a man like I should be." Looking for something he could put his eyes on, he twisted his neck backwards to look back down the empty hall. "I should really go get the door."

"And that's always the problem with you!" Kara exclaimed sharply, her accusatory tone enough to convince Lloyd to turn around and take in the infantile pout on the Kryptonian's thin, kissable lips. "You're either way too close or you're never here at all! It's like you're two different people and I don't want anybody to think that I'm some kind of slut," she growled before bringing her hands down to the hem of her dress, her long fingers pulling until the fabric stretched until it could safely pool down at her feet while still covering her entire body.

Lloyd felt himself frowning, his libido suddenly demanding to see more than what Kara was willing to offer. He strode forward, determined to rip the dress off of Kara's body, but was quickly shoved back by the object of his affection, a playful smile etched on her face the entire time.

"I would've given you my heart," Kara whispered, her bright blue eyes seemingly glistening as she clutched her right hand against her chest. Then those beautiful irises turned a familiar shade of red and Lloyd briefly fretted over whether or not he would be burned alive before a loud _squelch _resounded throughout the room, the sound of snapping bones or torn skin serving as the background noise as she continued to smile at him worshipfully, just as he always wanted. He knew from the moment the gush of blood splattered against his cheek that she would never leave him, that she would stay no matter how dirty or how much of a failure he became.

"You can still have it," she assured him, the dying girl unfurling her right arm and unveiling her still beating heart, the sound of the organ pulsing up and down now dominating Lloyd's ears. "All you have to do is give in to it. Give in to Anti-Life."

* * *

The deep, rich laughter roused from Kyle's lips made the slight hairs on Donna's neck prickle as she slammed her fist straight into the center of Roy's face, her old boyfriend's nose all but shattered by the impact as he was soon sent tumbling to the ground like a rag doll. Calmly wiping the blood off her left hand, she looked desperately about to find the hysterical sounds, the thin hope that she could save Kyle or he could save her rushing through her as she tried and failed to find him.

"Stop that!" Donna snapped, her angry, black eyes flashing over to Roy as he joined in the merriment, his shattered jaw making his laughter sound wheezy and nasal. "Shut up! You don't get to treat me like this!" she raged while clenching her powerful fists, her forearms straining to control the sudden expansion of her muscles. "Only he gets to! You weren't the first!"

"Aw, here we go with the independent woman thing again," Kyle said derisively, the tone sounding almost vile in the Green Lantern's usually sweet candor. "You know there's nothing better for a stuck-up broad than for her to be tied up with some silk scarves. I know she likes that. Right, Roy?"

"Ohhhh yeah," Arsenal answered with his usual, cocky certainty while rising back to his feet, the upper half of the sharpshooter's nasal septum thrust upward by the force of Donna's attack until it had been stopped by the rupturing of his left eye. "Just like Diana was back in the day. Get her wrists behind her back, make her feel all helpless, and then get her ready for the assault."

The former Wonder Girl let out a vicious, uncontrolled scream as she swung her body forward and knocked Roy's head off his shoulders with a well-placed right hook, the flow of blood that followed not nearly enough to satiate her as she continued to look to do the same to Kyle. However, what once was the pristine western edge of Lincoln Park was now an inky, indecipherable mixture of browns and pitch black that was impossible for her eyes to see through. Her face set in a scowl, she allowed her ears to do the searching, the mockingly heavy breaths of the Green Lantern barely telling her where she needed to go. Donna managed to use her long legs to easily traverse over and through the unknown territory, her gore-drenched frame winding through halfway familiar passageways as she continued toward what she was looking for.

"Woah! Hold on there, girl! Let's think about this!"

The dissent in the stranger's voice was enough to tempt Donna into turning around and ripping the unwanted person limb-from-limb. However, the time that she needed to register that the person was not only familiar but was also perhaps the last person she would have expected to see was just enough to give her pause. The wry smile fired back at her almost made her want to rescind her unwilling mercy, the girl's slim profile, short mane of blonde hair, and that know-it-all grin exacerbated by her substantial overbite harnessing some of the best and worst memories the former Teen Titan had at her disposal.

"Terra?! Tara Markov?" Donna could only sputter, her disbelief allowing the young geokinetic to step closer. "You. . ."

"Are dead. Very dead. A thousand different kinds of pushing up the daisies," Tara duly noted, the last page of her short, hateful existence apparently inspiring some self-amusement from Slade's former understudy. "And you're gonna be too if you don't get your shit together and hold your part of the ground."

Donna shook her head back and forth as the dead girl moved close enough to grasp her shoulders. "I. . . a part of me knows what you're saying but. . . I don't know where to go."

"Bullshit! You always know where to go!" Markov snapped, the girl's smug tone purposefully inciting Donna's anger. "You always had your head on your shoulders and that's why I came to you to tell you this! You've got to stay alive so you can pass on the message!"

"Message?"

Tara nodded her head frantically, the girl clearly becoming more urgent as she suddenly found herself strapped for time. "The order underneath your souls will soon fall apart. Should you wish to persevere, seek the child of Neron hiding beneath your once and forever home."

Donna wanted to scream that she had no clue what the girl was saying, to demand that she speak clearly, but the panic in the girl's eyes was so unfamiliar that it startled her into responding with a slow, misunderstanding nod of the head. As unclear as the gesture was, it seemed to be enough to tell Tara that she had done her job, a relieved smile sneaking onto her somewhat chubby face as she faded away, her borrowed time quickly running out.

"Leave it to that little brat to play in a sandbox she has no business being in," said another voice, this one far more frightening to Donna's ears but also a great deal more alluring. The power within that tone seemed to even bring light to the darkness around her, the words removing the shade and gloom to reveal the rich catacombs she had willingly made her way into. There was no way that Diana would approve of her actions but she still kept moving forward, her pain and rage suddenly smoothing away at the potential of her prize. The shards of moonlight that managed to breach through the rocks above was just enough for her to catch the sight of Dick Grayson as he stood at the edge of a nearby precipice, the first boy she had ever loved now transformed into a man she'd never thought she'd have.

"Sorry for all the distractions," he said softly, the tone sounding sheepish but the glimmer of strength in Nightwing's countenance clearly indicating that his words were genuine. "Still, you've got to realize that the both of us have put up an awful lot of walls to keep this from happening."

The affection in her old friend's voice almost brought tears to Donna's eyes as she slowly floated forward, her fingertips tingling as she tenderly slid her fingers down Richard's cheek.

"But now it's just the two of us," Nightwing went on with a smile, his own long fingers returning the tender gesture as he continued to assure. "No Bruce. No Diana. No K'ory or Babs."

"Just the two of us," Donna mumbled dreamily, her body slowly tilting forward until she could rest the crook of her neck against Dick's shoulder. "Oh, I can't believe that we had to take so long to figure it out."

A soft, affectionate chuckle rumbled from Dick's lips as he wrapped his strong arms around Donna's back. "Well, in my defense, I did have to work through a few things. I mean, you had to know that I'd need some time to figure things out after what you did to Barbara."

The urge to pull away wasn't quite enough to overcome her desire to stay close so Donna's eyes simply widened in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Aw, come on," Dick said with a joshing tone while breaking the embrace, the knowing grin that she had always loved to see on his face shining brightly. "You knew how I must have felt when you found out that The Joker had shot Batgirl in the spine, just like you knew that the Amazons' Purple Ray could have healed the damage if we could've gotten it to her in time."

She was so quick to break away from what little of the embrace remained that she nearly fell to the cave floor. "No. Nononononono. It wasn't like that. The Joker. . ."

"Oh, The Joker definitely fired the opening salvo," Dick interrupted. "Still, you made sure that it would stick. After all, why would a former acrobat want to spend the rest of his days with a helpless gimp?"

"That's not true!" Donna spat out, the irrevocable shame in her downcast eyes telling a different story. "I. . . only a part of me wanted that. I never would have gone through with it, never would have thought about it."

"But the deepest, darkest part of you came out to play, didn't it?" Dick hissed as he sprung forward like a viper, his deceptively strong hands suddenly even stronger than hers as they wrapped around Donna's arms. "That itty, bitty, infinitesimal portion of you that always hated that you never got what you thought you deserved and was willing to do anything to get it. Don't feel too bad about it, Troy. At least that proves you're human."

Likewise, a part of Donna knew that she could have stopped Dick from carrying her towards the edge of the cliff. She could have willed her body upward as he threw the both of them down into the unending abyss but that couldn't stop her from wallowing within her own loneliness, guilt, and self-condemnation until all she could do was scream.

"And now you've got your wish," Dick said brightly as they continued plummeting downward, his hair fluttering in the upward gale as his hazel eyes blinked with recognition. "Down among the dead men, deny no pleasures to your soul."

* * *

Hawkman took in the rank and filth that rose from Kalibak's close proximity with a stern grimace, the veteran warrior summoning the strength he needed to flip his far stronger opponent back onto his back. He could smell the blood of his fellow warriors stained on the general's energy mace as the hairy murderer let out a nasty sneer, the advantage in position allowing Carter to send a slight stream of Nth electrical energy scattering across his opponent's face. He only took a small amount of pleasure in the burns that formed about Kalibak's face, the knowledge that there was so much left to do remaining entrenched within his keen mind.

"You sense your futility," Kalibak added with a knowing grin while continuing to push upward in his struggle. "Your heart slows with your knowledge, Thangaarian scum. It is only a matter of time before your people and your precious, selected champions will fall from the might of my father's power."

Carter Hall grit his teeth in response, his knowledge indeed giving him the determination to continue to fight the losing battle. The Thangaarians advantage in weapons technology allowed them to make quick work of the handful of Doomsday clones that remained but the loss of men it took to get the deed accomplished was something they couldn't afford to lose. The Hounds and Parademons were too numerous, too determined, and too willing to die for their mad cause to go down easily. The unexpected arrival of Kyle Rayner only minutes ago provided a bit of a boon to the cause despite the Green Lantern's obvious state of disrepair but still the battle had proven to be far too costly. A new wave of forces would either force them to retreat or be crushed if they chose to stay.

Kalibak knew that just as well, the victorious grin plastered over his yellow canines sickeningly obvious as he tossed Hawkman aside before hefting himself back to his stumpy feet. "Nothing can save you now, fool!"

Having spent so long trapped within the cycle of karma and reincarnation, Hawkman couldn't help but take in the slightest of smiles as a familiar rush of air raised havoc over the battlefield. He devoted a whisper more of respect to Rayner as he continued to fight through the unexpected chaos, the Green Lantern joining his vanguard troops in scattering the portion of Kalibak's forces on the western border of the battlefield and earning them the right to break through the potentially crippling pincer formation. The sharp sound of Hounds yelping as they were pushed aside and the deep growls of Parademons coming to a timely end added more to the madness as Kalibak looked frantically from side to side in an attempt to decipher just what was going on.

"What? What is this?!" Kalibak hissed, the disruption enough to keep him from noticing his chosen adversary coming at him until his face was shattered by a mighty swing of Hawkman's mace.

"Our ace in the hole, monster," Hawkman fired back with a grateful sneer, a sliver of his thoughts suddenly devoted to thanking a warrior that had long been forgotten but just recently remembered. "And, as you can see, he's quite powerful. Much like a locomotive, some would say."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Ugh.

Just ugh.

Sorry for not getting this one out sooner. Of course, I do have a few good excuses what with the Christmas holidays and my work on the latest chapter of _Twelve Days of Misfits _(available now here at this handy-dandy fanfiction website) and with my usually dependable Chevrolet Cavalier deciding to cut all ties with its starter and cost me nearly 300 dollars and much of my Sunday afternoon. Sort of makes me wish that I really was a comic book character sometimes. At least then the only issues I'd probably have to worry about are being mopey enough to lose all of my friends rather than some of them on a monthly basis and the possibility that Dan DiDio will have me wiped out to serve as a quick sell to the latest Super Special Awesome CROSSOVER EVENT! Seriously, exactly what did Hawkman and Hawkwoman do to get killed in Blackest Night? How about Tempest? You know, with all these deaths in DC one would start to think that engaging in the same tactics on a repeated basis might dilute the emotional value that the audience would take within its characters. I mean, if they're just going to be coming back to life or being replaced then there's really no need to worry about them, right?

Ah, what do I know? Oh, wait, I do know something. It's time for a next issue preview!

* * *

_Issue #90 Preview_

Wow, there sure does seem like a lot of things that need to be resolved in the last part of _Seven Little Soldiers_, isn't there? I mean, you've got Kara fighting for her life, Donna, Lloyd, and Stephanie all dying or getting ready to die, Nightwing and Flash in the bowels of Darkseid's fortress doing God alone knows what and Darkseid still in control of the most dangerous weapon in all of history. And who, tell me, who could this mysterious gray-templed ace in the hole might be? Find out the answers to these confusing conundrums in the next chapter of The Misfits: Livelihood Bartering. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	90. Livelihood Bartering

Issue #90

Livelihood Bartering

The condition of the battlefield that Kara had waged war upon for the last eleven-and-a-half minutes provided a solid representation of her own physical state of being. The somewhat subtle decorations that had been placed within Darkseid's throne room, from the stiff, scarlet-red and golden carpeting to the royal purple curtains that hid much of the gray stone from view were either tattered or simply no more. Burns, blemishes and holes lined the expansive chamber as if they were meant to be there, the ugliness willingly kept until the moment it was time to take it away and rebuild from what remained. Wiping away the blood that had collected along her badly lacerated lower lip, The Last Daughter of Krypton commanded her heart to slow its pace as she lurched forward once again, her tall, almost gangling frame surging to meet Darkseid's much larger physique as the physical manifestation of The Anti-Life Equation let out another soft pulse.

They had long ceased their attempts to throw one another off with words or contrasting attack styles and are now simply devoting themselves to this simple but brutal test of muscle and will. She can only glean what she can from the obscure method of attack that Darkseid has chosen to employ and use that information to provide enough wisdom in her defenses just as he is forced to employ his superior strength and body weight to provide suitable protection from Kara's faster though still stiff strikes. Attempts to recall the more complex Sambo long maneuvers that Nigel had spent weeks teaching her was now devolved down to instincts, her long-fingered hands snaking forward and pulling back as their owner looked for any opportunity to grab a hold of an arm, a leg, or any other available body part in order to set up what she wanted to do. Darkseid, in return, answered his opponent's attempts to keep the battle close with forearm blocks, solid hooks from his girth-laden fists, and the occasional knee strike when he had some room to spare, the ache broadcasted by his brain and bones reminding him well of what could come from the mistake of trying anything riskier.

A spinning back fist that whizzes just to the right of Darkseid's skull allows the warlord a chance, his body quickly summoning the deadly force of his Omega Beams and bringing it to the disposal of the unconscious trigger mechanisms within the bridge between his optic nerves and his cerebral cortex. He feels another small mote of frustration as an equally hasty, profoundly more awkward lurch to the right saves his foe from a quick but painful death, the twin rays of energy sizzling just centimeters past Kara's left ear as a stiff left hook from his powerful adversary prevents him from manipulating the lethal energy any further. The sharp blow sends Darkseid turning to his right, his legs caught in a momentary stumble as the centuries-old warrior quickly comes to recognize that the stripling smells the blood in the water. It is mostly a small measure of good fortune that his left fist meets Kara's right, the impact of the stunted forward movement sending the both of them tumbling backwards in the midst of the shockwave that follows, the patched remains of the floor beneath them letting out another low, lengthy complaint in response as the two of them return to their feet.

She's ready for the Omega Beams the next time they come at her and the blaze of crimson energy she offers back in response is quick enough to cut off Darkseid's attack before the grizzled veteran of chaos can twist his efforts around her own. Time has taught her that Darkseid would most likely force himself to keep the struggle going with the risk of her searing heat vision bearing down on him and she uses that hypothesis to her advantage. It is as if she can feel the very lobes of her brain letting out an angry throb of defiance as she summons a white bolt of energy from her hands and those throbs become outright screeches as she sends the shot at Darkseid. Still, the knowledge that this monster would be forced to pick the lesser of two evils gives her a bit of somewhat sick satisfaction as the bolt of eldritch energy hits the scarlet-eyed despot square in the chest, the burn of the supernatural force coercing The Lord of Apokolips into letting out an unwanted cry of anguish.

His anger imbues him with the energy to slide his body to the right. It is a wise maneuver, the shift of his feet enabling him to not only avoid the brunt of the girl's solar-based projectile but also allowing him to fire a fresh Omega Beam that skims under Kara's efforts before angling upward on its quick path toward the girl's heart. His ability to read the scorching hot winds of his beloved home enables him to keep his lethal efforts going even after Kara flees the room, her beaten body doubtlessly hard pressed to stay ahead of his unrelenting power. Of course, his confidence does not allow him to be blinded to any great measure of degree, his powerful mind quite prepared to offer a sufficient response as the half-Kryptonian hurtles herself over The Flame Pits of Arn-dalum, soars above the rolling mare of Ancellurum before returning to his throne room in an attempt to use herself as a living projectile. Her attempt is easily avoided with an easy sidestep to the left, the countermanuever also allowing him to cut off the Omega Beams before they can crash into his chest.

"Your fortitude is something to be greatly admired, child," Darkseid declared through a somewhat ragged breath, his mighty lungs still somewhat pressed by the previous strain to take in what was needed. "Of course, your predictable conduct within the realm of strategy still leaves much to be desired."

Kara's haughty sniff was out before her conscience could rein it back where it belonged. "There's no way that you should have been able to keep up with me like this," she almost growled out, the words spoken more to herself than to her somewhat attentive adversary. "Was it The Equation that made you this much stronger?"

Darkseid responded with a sigh while bringing the tips of his thick fingers up to graze against the front of his forehead, the digits sweeping past the jagged crags and scars to dab at the blood that had oozed from the serrated skin. "How typical of those who claim to be working in the name of justice. Is it too much for you to believe that I chose to become stronger through my own resolve and labor?" The warrior let out a long breath as his bloodstained hands completed their recent duty, his rough skin slowly recovering from its injuries as his body remained still and patient. "It is as I told you before, my child. You are not dealing with some sovereign who clings to their heritage like a newborn babe to their mother's breasts. What you witness is a god once again realizing the utmost of their limitless potential."

"Well, then I suppose I should feel privileged," Kara flatly replied.

"Indeed," Darkseid countered with equal uniformity. "However, I must confess that it was rather sanguine of me to believe that I could ever sway you into my services either with or without the aid of my newest acquisition. Perhaps it would have been wiser to simply eliminate you before this moment could come to pass."

The words were a power play and Kara had come to be savvy enough to recognize it. That being said, a small part of her couldn't help but stop and think and that was all that her crafty opponent needed. Her lungs let out an awful wretch as Darkseid's skull smashed into her own, the speed that he managed to put into his diving head butt once again belying his massive bulk. She knew she was losing the race to recover from the impact and the strain against her cranium as she felt herself being lifted upward by her hair just provided another painful reminder. Two punches to the gut were quick to follow, her sinew and bone forced to saw up against one another as Darkseid's left knuckle crashed against her largely unprotected stomach. It took a great deal of what she had left to bring the world back into focus as her Praxian blood thinly registered the flow of her opponent's energy, her tired body turning forward as she swung her legs upward before it was too late. The irritated grunt that spilled from Darkseid as she slammed her right foot into the left side of his skull was a brief reward but still enough to will her to make an awkward landing as The Lord of Apokolips struggled to recover as well.

The convulsion that rose from the caving in of the eastern wall was enough to cause Kara to fall back down to the floor, a few portions of the speeding rubble peppering her body as the sources of the destruction easily passed through their work. Once again, she couldn't help but show a hint of unnecessary emotion, this time in the form of hope as Donna and Lloyd made their way onto the battlefield. And, as much as she wanted to pull her eyes away, she kept staring down at the lifeless expression on the face of her lover while he waited for his next command.

Anything was better than seeing the cold, sickening smile on Darkseid's face.

* * *

Starved for food and more than a little fatigued because of it, The Flash shrunk along the stone wall against his back, the surrounding heat absorbed by the sturdy rock slyly sliding up and down his body. His nose wrinkled as the beast bearing down on him let out a hungry roar, the monster's spike-like fangs glowing red from the shine of the surrounding magma as it prematurely celebrated the capture of its delectable prey. A bit of the sweat that had been gathering around Wally's forehead finally banged off the tip of his nose before falling to the floor, the speedster dimly registering the transfer of kinetic energy as the small drop of liquid scattered as it hit the ground.

"Oh, no. I am so obviously trapped and frightened," he finally said dramatically as the fiend rose up on its powerful hind legs. "Whatever shall I do?"

The clone of Desaad's Hiddon Beast let out another roar in response but this one was tinged more with shock and uncertainty than feral rage as the monster discovered that it was no longer on the ground. Twisting its thick neck back as far as it could, the beady, beetle-black eyes of the genetic abomination couldn't help twitch with fear.

"That'll work," The Flash concluded without the least bit of fright or trepidation. "I'll be taking my assist now, Mister Gray Temples."

Kal-L said nothing as he continued his latest duty, the aged Superman of Earth-2 carrying the 60-ton beast above his head as if it was merely a mild inconvenience. Quick to find an appropriate spot for his gargantuan cargo, the full-blooded Kryptonian cast his large arms downward and forward, his wrinkled fingers easily keeping their grip as he unceremoniously tossed the Hiddon into one of the larger flame pits he could find. As he had guessed, the unorthodox genetic makeup of Desaad's creation was quick to break down when immersed within the intolerably hot volcanic cavity, the two products of Apokolips soon combining to produce an explosion that produced a harsh tremor that resounded for miles around, the spray of molten rock and chemically-spawned light prompting the original Man of Steel to briefly slide his cape over his eyes.

To his credit, The Flash resisted the temptation to hop in the air like a little kid wanting to see what was going on above his eyes. Instead, he put his fast fists to good use as he made another run at the Apokoliptian troops still willing to put up a fight, his swift feet quickly carrying him to the targets that were closest or had the best shot at his best friend.

"Will you two please be quiet?" Nightwing hissed through the comm. link as Wally saved his life for the tenth time in half as many minutes. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry about that, Nightwing," Kal-L replied while pushing his body between the young vigilante and a barrage of laser fire that was left to ricochet against his chest. After spending so much time traveling through the silence of space, he found his ears were more than equipped to pick up the quickening heartbeats of the Aquatarian bounty hunters that had just barely missed their prize, the blue scales on their face shivering even as The Flash rushed by and sent the lot of them down for the count. "I have to admit that it took a little longer to get here than I had hoped. That reality's Doomsday was a bit harder to put down than the one here but I'm willing to make up for lost time."

"I'm just glad for the help," Nightwing calmly said back, his eyes not leaving the screen in front of him for a moment. "This encryption is just as complex as Batson said it would be but I'm getting my way through it. I just. . ."

Superman allowed the words to simply wash over him as he looked over the three baying Hounds rushing towards him, the beasts clearly not as panicky as the surrounding bounty hunters. Although it had been a long time since he had owned a dog himself, he did know enough that canines tended to respond better to a strong front. Of course, the haymaker that landed squarely across the jaw of the first Hound to leap forward could have been considered an extreme response but it still didn't stop the other two from rushing forward, their intent to tear through him in order to get to their real target still clear as day. The second one was sent hurtling away with a stiff kick that the aged soldier had practiced dozens of times on the old farm when Pa Kent though that Smallville High should have an extra kicker just in case Tommy Wallace got hurt but the rising sweep of his foot also allowed the third Hound to sink its impressive teeth into the right side of Kal-L's chest. As a result, the beast had just enough time to let out a wounded wail in response to its broken fangs before the salt-and-pepper haired warrior pushed the wounded beast away and into an oncoming crowd of Parademons.

". . . a little more time."

"Damn, I wish I could do that," The Flash couldn't help but murmur to himself just as he moved to take out his own sizeable portion of Parademons, the manufactured soldiers distracted between choosing to continue their mission or focusing more on the men that were trying to stop them.

"Don't sell yourself short, young man," Kal-L replied, his ears easily picking the envious words out from the chaos around him. "You've come a long way. In fact, I dare say that Jay Garrick couldn't hold a candle to you, today or even in his prime."

"He he, oh, you shouldn't be surprised," The Flash offered, The Fastest Man Alive suddenly quite grateful that his red-and-yellow costume was enough to hide the flush of his cheeks. "Just hard work and practice is all."

"And now I'd like to ask the two of you to stop complimenting each other as well," Nightwing darkly threw in, the opportunity to chastise his guardians quickly becoming more appealing than simply letting out a curse of frustration. "In fact, just focus on the task at hand, will ya?"

"Becoming more like his father every day, isn't he?" Kal-L asked while letting loose a thin but powerful stream of heat vision into a small handful of advancing Parademons.

"Despite my best efforts to stop it, I'm afraid," added Wally, the redhead speaking barely above a whisper but still certain that his audience would pick it up.

Kal-L allowed himself a hint of a smile before turning back to his other comrade. "How is that coming along?"

It took some time for Nightwing to provide a vocal response, most likely due to the fact that it took a good amount of time for him to look as stern as he thought he should have been. "It's like I said before," he finally snapped back, his scratchy lungs forcing him to let out a dry cough as the unforgiving heat continued to bear down on him. "I've managed to get around quite a few of the protocols but there's stuff here that Batson didn't tell me about. I'll need time to work my way around it."

"Well, perhaps we're going about this the wrong way," Kal-L offered before he was on the move again, the most recognized hero throughout the realities carefully brushing the frustrated vigilante aside as he took his turn at the controls. A few fractions of a second were needed to see what he needed to do but his fingers were soon tapping away at the keyboard, the monitor above soon percolating with new entries and input data before Nightwing could recognize just what was going on.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

This time it was Kal-L that needed time to respond, perhaps due to the fact that it took a small amount of time to protect his younger colleague from a bolt of energy fired from a halberd cannon wielded by a Parademon that Wally took a half second too long to get to. "I brushed up on Second Age Apokoliptian sigils before going on my last mission," Superman explained, his right hand still smoking from the heat produced by the ineffective attack. "Maybe the translator is costing us too much time."

The increasing possibility of an imminent death still wasn't enough to keep Nightwing from screwing up his face in disbelief.

"Brushed up?"

"Cerebral cortex bolstering provided by your Earth's yellow sun along with the ability to read and retain information at 2,000 times the rate of the average human being," Kal-L clarified while somehow managing to sound almost humble about it. "I figured it was the least I could do considering what has to be done here."

Now it was Nightwing's turn again to take some time to think about what to say as his body slid to the left in order to take better advantage of his Kryptonian shield, his left hand quickly dipping into a nearly-depleted pocket of his belt to retrieve the last of his flash bombs. "Y'know, as much as I love the guy, I still can't help but think that we got hosed when it came to our Superman."

"Now, now, Richard," Kal-L cautiously admonished his charge, his twinkling, blue eyes locked on the screen above. "There's nothing more that any of us can do but to try."

* * *

As foolish as it was, Kara had to try.

"Lloyd?" she said softly to the still gentleman standing across from her. "Please tell me that you're still in there."

The Black Dog nearly claimed Kara's head with his response, the precise swipe of his saber nearly enough to slice into his lover's long neck. A somewhat graceful tuck and backwards roll saved Kara but also left her open as he sprang into the air, his powerful limbs twisting his body forward and around in a somersault slash that could have easily cleaved the former Maid of Might in two. Once again though, the attack missed by inches as Kara bent her long knees outward before frog hopping out of the way, the awkward counter maneuver allowing her to grab a firm hold of Lloyd's arms with her stronger hands.

"Don't let him control you!" Kara beseeched as she held the cumbersome embrace upon the man she wanted to trust with everything, the same man who was now struggling to break free of her in order to kill her that much quicker. "You're better than this!"

"And again we see this self-concocted air of superiority," Darkseid said evenly, his lips taking on the slightest of smiles as he admired his opponent's struggles. "Come now, my child. Is it too hard to believe that there are others who could see the value of nothingness?" The Lord of Apokolips swept his eyes away as he moved to examine his other prize, his stout fingers briefly sifting through Donna's long, black hair. "Of course, not all of us work so diligently to hide from our past sins in an effort to pretend they didn't even exist. Perhaps it is that shame-spawned egotism that allowed you to resist the pull of Anti-Life."

There was not enough time for Kara to respond as Donna moved forward at Darkseid's unspoken signal, the Amazon plowing into the stunted skirmish and slamming both of her fists into her still bruised abdomen. Air and blood was forced from her throat and out of Kara's mouth as the former Wonder Girl continued pushing forward, the raven-haired warrior woman carrying Kara through solid stone walls that were easily smashed aside by their travels.

"There still is a chance, you know," Darkseid offered as he calmly floated through the apertures, his arms crossed across his thick chest. "Your death does not have to be the final product of your fruitless struggle against your own rage and self-loathing. My Anti-Life Equation will allow you an eternity with the man you love." His tone was slow and hypnotic, a mirror image of the honeyed words that Darkseid had employed to bring Kara under his thrall during her first forced trip to Apokolips. "There will be no more shame. No more failure. Only the opportunity to stand at the side of the one who will rule over all."

More pain awaited Kara as Lloyd lashed his blade across her shoulder blades, the supernatural blade easily cutting through the thin layers of flesh and muscle and even a bit of the bone.

"This isn't why Naomi risked her life to protect you!" Kara exclaimed, the woman refusing to beg or plead as she turned to meet Donna's unresponsive gaze. "And this isn't why you spent all this time putting your life back together!" Her eyes flew back and forth between her two unwilling adversaries as they inched ever closer. "Don't let Darkseid win!"

The Black Dog went straight for Kara's heart this time, the two-handed thrust easily parried by a strike to Lloyd's right forearm. The kick to the chest that followed sent Lloyd toppling to the ground, struggling for breath, and leaving his partner all alone with a far stronger opponent. He could only look on and recover himself as his lover quickly but meticulously worked her way through Donna's defenses before employing a left hook-right knee combination that doubled the Amazon over. A nerve pinch taken straight from The Batman's playbook was next on Kara's agenda as she continued to look for a way to bring her opponents down safely but Lloyd would have none of that. His gleaming, silver saber sang through the air as the tip of his blade briefly dug into and through the back of Kara's neck, the precise lash and the messy impact of blade on skin sending out a thin spurt of blood that slipped into the strands of blonde hair that fell right along with the mane's owner.

Kara was still struggling to get to her feet as Lloyd helped Donna onto hers, her many wounds still mixing with the foreign magic in her system and leaving her woozy and unfocused. "Lloyd. . ." she warbled out with a tired whisper, struggling to think of anything she could say. "I thought. . . I thought you liked my hair long," she finally chose to sputter out as she let out a morbid chuckle, the dabble of blood and spittle that had been sliding down the surface of her tongue almost causing her to choke.

"Hmph. Hardly the most fitting of last words," Darkseid mused, his voice seemingly coming from so far away. "However, I now find that your continued defiance leaves me without any patience for you."

Another unspoken order was given and soon Lloyd was employing his telekinesis to bring Kara aloft and within striking range. Donna continued to stand by The Black Dog's side, her countenance just as cold, impassive and wrong as that of her neighbor's. The magic in the _Mugalshir _sparkled to life again as Lloyd prepared to strike his target down, the impossibly sharp tip of the saber briefly aimed straight for the spot between Kara's quivering eyes before bringing his one-handed grip lower and back in front of her heart.

And then he used his right hand to summon an energy beam that struck Darkseid in the chest.

"I do," Lloyd offered back before giving Kara a quick peck on the lips. "But you're the one who's always saying you want to get it cut," he added as the front tips of his own hair suddenly fluttered in front of his eyes as Donna soared forward to strike Darkseid while he was still staggered. The British vigilante took a moment to stop and wait in spite of his better nature, the sight of Kara's slow but sure smile causing that familiar rumble to surface in the spot between his heart and his belly. Of course, the determination that soon rose in those exquisite blue eyes gave him another kind of hunger but at least he knew enough to restrain himself as he brought his blade back to bear.

"This is unimaginable," The Lord of Apokolips roared while sending Donna hurtling away with a vicious backhand. "No one is able to break free from the grip of Anti-Life after it has sunk in its claws! I am certain of it!"

"As well you should be," Donna answered as she shook herself free from the grip Lloyd had on her after he had teleported into her unwanted path. "No one is able to break free of what you tried to do to us, at least not on our own."

The familiar _ZZZZZRAKK _of the Omega Beams brought a vicious light to the otherwise darkened vicinity, the deadly twin rays rendered harmless as Donna deflected the shots with her enchanted bracelets. As that struggle ensued, Lloyd and Kara dashed by their companion, the former rushing along a curved path starting at Donna's left while the latter made a similar run to the Amazon's right. Kara ultimately won the race with a quick zag to her left, her right fist sweeping right along with her as she hammered Darkseid with an uppercut that landed just under a cluster of nerves that bridged the gap between the despot's chin and neck. It was a disorienting move that left the monster with little chance to avoid Lloyd as he swooped in a tenth-of-a-second later, his saber heading straight for Darkseid's heart. A quick, nearly involuntary sidle to the left was all that allowed The Lord of Apokolips to stay alive, his already offended senses suffering a fresh, new hell as the _Mugalshir _dug deeply into his chest, the enchanted weapon tearing through muscle and bone hardened by centuries of war and victory.

Darkseid let out a defiant and indecorous howl while using what remained of his strength to hurl Kara into Lloyd, the two of them crashing together and briefly rolling across the floor before they blinked away from sight. It was less than a moment before the offensive half-demon and the insolent girl were flanking him from his left and right respectively but his eyes were still mostly locked on the intolerably smug expression on Donna's face as the Amazon stared him down from his front.

"What's wrong, milord?" Kara asked with a mocking tone that made Darkseid want to kill everything he could see. "Didn't your all-seeing eyes see this coming?"

The former Uxas Khan did not allow himself to show weakness for even a moment, the flinty-skinned tyrannical ruler barely letting out a wince as he yanked Lloyd's blade free from his chest. The blade seemed a great deal smaller when the hilt was wrapped within Darkseid's much larger fist, the dangerous weapon suddenly looking more like a kid's toy. It was a thought that gave him comfort as his greenish-black blood spilled from his chest like a partially broken faucet as he looked down upon those who were ready to bring an end to his staggering history.

He was surrounded. He had no chance of victory in the face of such overwhelming odds.

And then he smiled.

"No, my child," Darkseid calmly answered. "However, I did anticipate this."

The upper floors of the fortress were ripped apart in the wake of the shockwaves produced by dozens and dozens of Boom Tubes, each one of the teleport devices carrying a portion of Darkseid's army. Some merely summoned a single Hound or a clone of Doomsday or a smattering of Parademons while others yielded hardened bounty hunters and one even brought what remained of the Furies after their minds had been torn apart by their master's usage of The Anti-Life Equation. It had only taken seconds for the 3-on-1 to turn into 700-on-3 and it didn't take much longer than that for the three Earth-based champions to recognize the consequences behind the change.

"My dearest apologies, Lord Darkseid," said Granny Goodness as she stomped forward, her heavy trodding soon bringing her to the side of her master. "I had truly believed that the two of them were under your control."

"It is quite all right," Darkseid interrupted before the statement could turn to a plea. "The attempt was an acceptable gamble, particularly since our guests were so foolish to believe that they could ever possess the upper hand." The crimson-eyed emperor made certain to take in the hatred in Donna Troy's scowl, the dismay in Kara Zor-el's eyes, and the barely perceptible panic slipping slightly from the waning thoughts of The Black Dog as his army awaited the call to strike. Every eye was on him, just as it should have been, and the victor of the day took in the satisfaction drawn from his accomplishments with his usual stoic professionalism and grace under fire.

"Now that we are reaching the end of this story, allow me to offer a brief review for those of us who have not been paying attention." A quick hiss from the enraptured Mad Harriet beckoned Darkseid to silently order Granny Goodness to silence her unruly pet. "My son's army has been decimated, your Thangaarian reinforcements have long chosen to conduct a full retreat and it is only a matter of time before my forces overwhelm your two charges trapped within the bowels of my kingdom. One of your Green Lanterns has chosen to retreat along with the winged cowards and the other is trapped within Desaad's laboratory unable to save either herself or any one of you."

Darkseid allowed a moment to let the knowledge soak in, the pride of his victory just too tantalizing to fully ignore in the short term. "Your courageous journey to steal The Anti-Life Equation from its rightful holder has now come to its abysmal failure," he concluded while spreading his arms wide. "Given your bravery, I will not insult you with the possibility that you will be allowed any degree of mercy or sanctuary."

"Hold on a mo', Lord Vader," Lloyd broke in, his hazel eyes staring straight at his captured blade. "With all due respect, I've still got another card to play before you rake in your chips." The gesture he took to call notice to the audio communication device in his right ear was not a necessity but it was a noticeable move that gave him the break in action he wanted. "Nightwing, do we have what we're looking for?"

Darkseid was already prepared to chortle at the boy's foolishness.

"Kal-L got us in," Nightwing said back. "We're ready for the last resort whenever you are."

The commander of the most renowned army in the cosmos narrowed his eyes, his swift mind allowing him to recognize the possibilities even when his ego was unable to accept them. "What do you think you're playing at, half-blood?"

The Black Dog first replied with a cold smirk as he swept his narrow arms wide, the gesture a clear mockery of Darkseid's previous arrogance. "Well, it's just that if you say it's story time then allow me to offer a bit of an addendum," he finally began. "Just like you, I'm not about to insult you by saying that you don't already know what I sent Grayson and West to hunt for. Likewise, you know good and hell well what could happen if they succeeded. Or. . . to be more precise. . . if the _three_ of them succeeded."

Now it was Lloyd's turn to bask and he took in the hatred and confusion with just as much joy as the proud general had done with him.

"So here's the deal, Lord Darkseid. You let us walk out of here with The Anti-Life Equation and I won't have Kal-L blow up your whole bloody planet."

"He lies!" Granny Goodness hissed, the deep shout managing to pass over the panicked whispers from the soldiers around her.

"Come on now," Donna followed through, the former Teen Titan happy to take her part of the stage. "I'm certain you've all lived here long enough to know what just one erupting flame pit can do. Now try multiplying that by 500 and tell me what you get. . ."

"My lord, this is nothing more than a ridiculous bluff," Darkseid's second-in-command spat out. "Do not allow these fools one moment more to continue their foolish attempts to snatch false victory from their inevitable defeat!"

"Be silent, crone!" Darkseid said sternly, his unyielding tone rendering the room silent while his line of sight zeroed in somewhere between the Amazon and the half-demon. "Your only reward for deceit will be an exceedingly painful death."

Lloyd acknowledged the threat with a simple nod before continuing forward. "You've been able to muck about in my mind for a bit. You tell me if I'm lying." The Misfits' field leader accepted the still countenance Darkseid had to offer him in response before continuing on. "So here's the new deal, good sir. Any of your troops fire on the three of us now or until we leave with The Equation and I will have our ace in the hole set off the fire pits and blast you all into the next realm. If I hear that a single demon, dog, or anything in between tries to take any more chunks out of the rest of my troops then you'll all be dead within the second. However, if you agree to my demands, and I would strongly recommend that you do so, we'll go about our merry way and allow you to rewrite your security protocols any way you see fit."

Darkseid silenced the clamor that followed with a simple gaze, his sheer sense of authority stilling the crowd once again. "You appear to be forgetting that your soldiers would perish as well."

Lloyd tilted his head to one side as his lips pulled into a slow, dangerous smile. "Sacrificing seven people to save the countless others that would be in danger if The Anti-Life Equation stays with you doesn't sound like a bad deal to me." The former mercenary allowed Darkseid to see the truth brimming in his eyes. "Oh, and bear in mind that I can teleport really far really bloody fast and I can take these two lovely ladies with me."

"So my second-in-command tells me," said Darkseid. "And while I would most likely survive the annihilation of my home, there is little guarantee that The Anti-Life Equation would do the same, at least in its current, stable state."

"Like you're readin' my mind again, guv," Lloyd finished the thought with an almost companionable grumble.

"If only I had done so more sufficiently," Darkseid mused back in return. "And I have your word that you will return control of our planet's core to me?"

"On my honor," The Black Dog immediately replied. "The only thing we'll leave behind is a word to the wise that you should probably pick a less volatile place to hang your hat."

"I'd consider it to be quite the offer, Darkseid," Donna hastily broke in, the far more kindly of Batson's two assigned negotiators wisely hasty to avoid a more dangerous war of words. "You've overcome the strongest warriors of New Genesis and that victory all but ensures your eventual capture of that planet in short order. Additionally, the offer to return such a dangerous weapon back to a neutral ground would provide quite the measure of good faith to those who would otherwise wish to interfere. The Green Lantern Corps, for example."

"Too right," Lloyd added, the Brit giving a quick nod of thanks for Donna's interference. "You keep the planet you love, most likely get another one to add to your collection, and all at the low, low cost of this fancy toy 'ere."

Kara continued to look on in silence, her eyes occasionally shifting from one anxious soldier to the next before finally settling on Darkseid as the emperor silently thought the matter over. A long handful of seconds passed before the calm ruler stooped down to whisper in the ear of his second-in-command. Her ears were easily able to pick up the exchange, the confirmation that the threat was real followed by a brief discussion over whether their opposition would truly play out their hand. She felt her heart pick up in spite of herself as the creature that tried so hard to bring her under his control now found himself trying to break free of his own bonds.

More than one breath was let loose as the hardened sovereign casually tossed the _Mugalshir _back to its chosen owner, his face devoid of any real form of expression, negative or otherwise.

"Your terms are accepted," Darkseid finally proclaimed, his deep, sonorous candor making Kara's sigh of relief that much stronger. "However, just as you have chosen to discuss with me, allow me to advise you of the consequences of using it for your gains."

Donna simply bowed in deference to a creature that was so quick to draw both hatred and respect. Lloyd, on the other hand, quickly moved to wrap his hands around the palpable aura surrounding the pulsating orb of energy that Darkseid had spent centuries looking for, the power within the intangible sphere causing his eyes to involuntarily turn a bright shade of silver.

"Another thing you've got my word on," Lloyd replied, his response hoarse and strained as he struggled to keep his psyche together. "I'm trusting that we will meet again."

"Absolutely," Darkseid replied with a tiny smile, the hint of enthusiasm ringing through his rejoinder far more terrifying to Batson's champions than anything an Omega Beam could provide. "And do remember, Kara Zor-el. Our discussion is not even close to reaching its end and I will be quite eager to begin the debate again at my leisure."

Kara honestly couldn't say anything to that certainty. She had barely enough to nod in return as Donna moved forward to keep Lloyd from doing anything rash.

The Lord of Apokolips quickly took the silence he received as an admirable tribute.

* * *

_New Cronus_

"Would you get rid of that thing, for fuck's sake!"

"No way!" Stephanie cheerfully said back to Wally's vociferous complaint, the dried blood and sweat that nearly plastered her face doing nothing to dim the luster of her smile. "I didn't get any other chance to get a souvenir from our field trip so this thing's coming with me whether you or Desaad like it or not!"

"Ugh, I'm with Wally on this one," threw in Kyle Rayner, the elder of the two Green Lanterns now free to hold both hands over his nose thanks to Kara's fine bandaging work on his still wounded abdomen. "And why would you want to keep that thing anyway?"

The silent onlookers remained still as Robin continued to drag the Hiddon's enormous corpse along with her by its colossal tail. It looked phenomenally odd for a five-foot-six, 120 pound woman to be lugging a 60-foot wide, 50-ton corpse but the vigilante managed to pull it off with her own unique style and panache. Of course, the monster's sharp claws did occasionally dig into the rocky terrain and offer a bit of involuntary resistance but it appeared that the fair-haired Gothamite was more than comfortable with the strain.

"Are you kidding? This thing is awesome!" Steph cheered. "I'm still thinking about having it stuffed, mounted, and put up in The Batcave! I mean, hey, if we've got enough room for a giant mechanical dinosaur. . ."

Kyle and Wally locked eyes with one another, the both of them simultaneously thinking that they never would have had to put up with this if they had remained in The Justice League. Cause it, perhaps, but not deal with the repercussions.

"Well, maybe you can get an empty factory out of the deal," Wally then said as he attempted to consider the illogical matter. "'Cause there's no way that Bruce isn't letting you within 50 miles of the manor with that."

Stephanie took a brief pause in her corpse dragging to ponder the possibility over, her heart-shaped face tilted to one side as she did so. "Y'know, that might actually work. I mean, you can't swing a dead, giant monster in Gotham without hitting an abandoned factory. . . and, believe me, I'm going to do whatever it takes to prove just that."

"How in the world do you put up with her?" Rayner couldn't help but ask as he and Wally continued their attempts to slowly walk away from their fellow champion.

"Deflecting her over to Cissie or Lloyd usually works," Wally answered, the speedster not even looking behind him as Stephanie and her prize continued to follow him. "Or alcohol if that doesn't work."

"Ooh! Maybe I can have Lloyd enchant this thing so it can be like one of those singing basses you can buy at Walgreen's!" The voiced thought made Stephanie briefly hop up and down in excitement at the sheer nuttiness of the possibility, the bouncing making it decidedly more difficult to keep up with her two friends as she continued to carry the Hiddon with her. "Is the plural of bass basses? 'Cause that just doesn't sound right. . ."

"Wow," Donna Troy noted from some distance away, the lower half of her long legs dangling over the edge of the cliff she was perched upon. "Exactly how did we pull this off again?"

Lloyd snorted back, his heels briefly bouncing against the rock face as he swung his own legs back and forth in a childlike manner. "Didn't do that much," he said wearily. "We only got out alive by the skin of our bloody teeth."

"Yeah, but we got the job done," Donna replied, her graceful neck twisting to her right as she briefly met the gentleman's eyes. "And quite a job it was to do. Invading Apokolips, retrieving one of the most dangerous weapons in all of recorded history, and we only suffered a small amount of casualties while doing it."

The Black Dog responded with a familiar sounding grunt, the utterance sounding odd even to him when he finally had the time to really think about it. He let out a somewhat distressed sigh as he realized where he got it from but the threat of starting up a Dark Knight style brooding session was quickly brushed aside as Donna gave out a short laugh before patting him on his legs.

"Don't feel too bad about it," the Amazon said reassuringly. "And, to be fair, we couldn't have pulled it off without a damn good leader."

The former student of Mao Tenryu let out a shy smile, the nervousness he felt when being complimented by a woman he admired just barely leaking out. "Well, so long as we're patting one another on the back, there's no way I could have done my job if someone hadn't help me bust out of the grip of The Equation," he noted softly. "That bein' said, a bloke could get a heart attack from somebody banging on their door like that."

Donna casually shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, it wasn't the first time that I almost had to break down a friend's door to make sure that nothing funny was going on. After all, I did live under the same roof with Roy Harper for a couple years."

"'Tis a fair point." Lloyd noted while working up the strength for a small smile.

In response, the former Troia offered a slightly broader grin in return. "You're eyes say far too much about you, Lloyd Thomas," she said while taking a close look at the light hazel orbs. "Still, they're a damn good thing to hold on to when you think the guy who walked you down the aisle is trying to kill you."

"Well, that was a rather odd thing to spring my way into," Lloyd acknowledged. "On the other hand, I do think the two of you would make a fine match." The Black Dog realized that he might very well have just said the wrong thing and rushed to salve the wound. "I mean, that sot's datin' my mum and anything I can do to get 'er out of that bastard's clutches. . ."

Donna's laughter was enough to convince Lloyd that he had saved himself. "No, no. Nononononononono," she said while waving her right hand in front of Lloyd's face. "I am soooo not ever opening up that box. I value what few slivers of sanity I still have in this life." She couldn't help but notice that Lloyd had turned away and quickly put herself into damage control as well. "And, at the risk of losing a new friend, Dick is a good man, the best man I've ever had the privilege to know and if this Naomi girl is worth it than she's the lucky one."

"No, she's definitely not." Lloyd's reply had a bit of crossness but not enough to make it sound all the way genuine. "And I usually don't go through the efforts of leaping into people's thoughts without wanting to know them as a friend."

He extended his right arm with no reservations, the gesture quickly returned by Donna as she wrapped her long fingers around the base of Lloyd's forearm in a traditional Amazon showing of respect. They held the gesture just long enough for two more of Donna's guests to approach, the first just as calm and genteel as usual while the other was trying desperately not to fall into a deathly embarrassing stage of hero worship.

"You've done some fine work today," said Kal-L while continuing to stride forward, his aged body showing little signs of the war he had burst through only an hour ago. "You should be proud."

"Oh, I always am," Lloyd replied with a sardonic smirk as he helped himself to his feet.

"And thank you for aiding us in our time of need," Donna added as she stood up as well.

"Well, thank you very much, Miss Troy," Kal-L said with a kindly nod, a few patches of memories of the Donna Troy of his reality briefly flickering through his thoughts as his long legs brought him to a stop. "However, as much as I'd like to stay here and celebrate, I believe I did come for something rather important."

It was only natural that a quiet pause rose among the four guardians, the strength of the silence only rising as Lloyd concentrated and brought the spectral form of The Anti-Life Equation into view, his eyes once again burning bright silver with the strain. The unlikely holder of the weapon gave a cautious look to Nightwing and received a nod in return. He then shifted his neck to look at Donna and she provided a calm, even countenance that assured him just a little bit more. Then, calling upon the powers of The Condemner, The Black Dog broadened his telekinesis until it could even affect things that could not be physically touched, the thick molecules seemingly letting out a groan of complaint as he shut his eyes and continued to concentrate. Kal-L did nothing to interfere, his arms staying still at his sides as he continued to be an impartial observer to the goings on.

A handful of seconds passed and then The Anti-Life Equation was no more.

Kal-L was the first to react, the old man letting out a deep but inscrutable breath. "I think it's safe to say that William isn't going to approve of your decision."

"We didn't choose to do this so we could hand someone else a weapon," Donna answered in Lloyd's stead, the longtime diplomat realizing that the younger man was still struggling from the psychological strain. "We came there to protect the lives of others."

"And something like that, no matter who has their hands on it, would only put everyone in danger," Nightwing added, the raven-haired Justice Leaguer throwing in his own two cents so his friend wouldn't have to.

Over ninety years of living with and among the people of one Earth or another had given Kal-L the knowledge to know what he had to do with that. He allowed some time to pass, if only to allow the weight of the decision to sink in on the shoulders of all involved, before presenting a genuine smile.

"Now I'm really proud of you."

* * *

_Wayne Manor – Second Floor_

"And that was that?"

"That was that," Lloyd answered as he continued to look up at the ceiling. The fact that his skin had stopped prickling and his mind had stopped screaming was providing a blessed relief, proof that the lasting effects of containing The Anti-Life Equation were finally slipping away. "Well, after Grayson fawned over the old man a bit more. Personally I think he just stuck around him 'cause he didn't have the balls to talk with me about 'im and Naomi."

Kara logically rolled her eyes in response to the accusation as she turned to lay on her side, the sudden motion mildly jostling the bed they shared. "Oh, yes, I'm sure he's terrified," she replied in a manner not the least bit placating. The irritation was mild and easily overcome as Lloyd finally turned to look at her, his small hands briefly rushing through her recently shorn blonde hair, the once shoulder-length curls now downsized into a short, somewhat stylish bob cut that ended only an inch or two below her ears.

"Okay, okay. I'll shut up about it," Lloyd finally relented, a small smile rising on his lips as he briefly tickled Kara's right ear. "Mama Poulet is still workin' wonders I see. 'Course, given the loveliness of the subject, I can't imagine it was too hard."

Kara replied with a grin and a quick chuckle, that odd, possibly ingratiating reaction often drawn from when a boyfriend is able to recognize a change in their girlfriend's style earning The Black Dog another small helping of relationship points. "Ah, it's just another reason why I need to thank Scandal come Christmas time," she said with as much of a relaxed attitude as she could. "And who knew that there were hair stylists who specialized with metahumans?"

"Well, somebody has to do it," Lloyd considered with a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, it's not like you or your cousin kin just pop in the local MasterCuts and ask for a little off the top."

"Very true," Kara agreed with the same matter-of-fact tone, the half-Kryptonian biting back the urge to bring her right hand forward and slide it against Lloyd's chest. After all, it wasn't as if there weren't some advantages to doing that because there was this spot just above his abdomen that usually made him let out a deep growl and then he'd do a few nice things in return and maybe then they would get so busy that Lloyd could just forget about how upset he probably should have been about her running off to go take on Darkseid. . .

"_Can read your thoughts, luv."_

"DAMN IT!" Kara shouted while falling back onto the bed. Thankfully, the melodrama was enough to eke out a smile from Lloyd and that allowed her to fire back with a relieved grin. Several more seconds passed as she watched the man she loved lying there, still as stone, as he waited for her to say what she felt she needed to say and that was almost enough to grasp for that spot on his chest again.

"I want to say I'm sorry." There was suddenly a sizeable lump trapped in Kara's throat and she found that a bit of time was needed for her to bring it back down. "It's just. . . I don't know how sorry I should be. I don't even know if I should be at all!"

A somewhat understanding nod was all that Lloyd could or was willing to offer. That and time and Kara grasped onto that boon as tightly as she could while the toes of her right foot shook up and down and her voice worked to serve the efforts of her thoughts proud.

"Ever since I came to Earth, so much of my life was revolved around Darkseid. He was the first person to know who I used to be and that was something that Clark, Diana, or even Bruce never really wanted to deal with. And. . . as bad as it was. . . he tried to give me a purpose, something I knew that I would have been good at if I had chosen to take it. I look at him. . . and I see my past, my family. . . all the stuff that could have happened if worst came to worst. That's why I needed to face him alone, whether he was calling me towards him or not."

Lloyd couldn't help but look away momentarily before taking in the searching gaze in his lover's eyes. "I guess I can understand that," he finally grumbled. "And, hey, it's not like the bloke who jaunted off to the other side of the world after his big sister stabbed him in the chest is really one to throw stones when it comes to stress management."

Kara's smile was slim, slight, and perfectly genuine as she moved down to give Lloyd a soft and slow kiss, her tongue just barely poking out to brush against Lloyd's lower lip before she pulled her face away. The rest of her, however, was suddenly kept still by a firm embrace, the childlike worry in Lloyd's face further coaxing her to remain still.

"An' when it happens again?" he asked hoarsely, the words a bit more difficult to get away from him thanks to his slightly swollen lips. "Can I be there?"

The half-Praxian wasted no time in shaking her head back and forth. "I'll tell you this though. If I know that I can come back home when that is over, if I'm certain that I can feel you holding me as I fall asleep, you can always trust me to do whatever I can to make it back alive."

The words finally drew a smile from The Black Dog as he let his lover loose. Kara, however, had other ideas as she drew her long arms against the sheets and slid them around Lloyd's back before snuggling her chin into her boyfriend's left shoulder blade.

On his end, Lloyd took a moment to think that over before bending his neck so he could kiss Kara on her forehead. "Well, that there's a nice prize for havin' to endure waking up naked on a foreign planet."

"Mmmm, definitely," Kara replied as she slowly shut her eyes, the tired, so-called champion now more than ready to partake in some well-earned rest. However, after several silent seconds, she couldn't help but feel that the man she loved seemed uncommonly still, the sensation prompting her to crack open her left eye. "Is something wrong, sweetie?"

Lloyd pursed his lips. "So Wally found me and we were both naked. Stephanie found Richie. That means. . ."

Kara groaned as Lloyd broke free from her one-armed embrace and rolled towards his cell phone. Hardly needing to be a telepath to see what was coming, The Last Daughter of Krypton simply craned up her back, grabbed one of the pillows her head had been resting on, and did her best to smother herself.

"Rayner? Hi! It's Lloyd. Say, you didn't happen to see my girlfriend naked, did you?"

And, yes, she was well aware that it was impossible for one to suffocate themselves but, hey, she was used to doing what others thought to be impossible.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, even if this is coming a little later than I would have liked, I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that I shaved one day off my late schedule when it came to this magnum opus of mine. Of course, a weekend wherein you provide twelve hours of free counseling while simultaneously resisting the urge to break down and play Final Fantasy IV: The After Years until I pass out does not for a good fanfiction schedule make. Of course, all those excuses aside, I hope everybody had a good New Year's and I assure you that I will keep doing what I can to provide a little bit of entertainment in the weeks to come. It has nothing to do with me being a whore for feedback. Nope. Not a bit.

I don't really have much to say about the world of comic books except to ask two simple questions. . .

Since when did we have to care so much about Luke Cage?

So you're telling me that the supposedly all-knowing Ganthet is going to entrust seven people into defending Earth from an army of powerful zombies and two of the people he trusts are Jonathan Crane and Lex freakin' Luthor?!

Wait, is that second question even a question?

* * *

_Issue #91 Preview_

It's time to come back down to Earth as The Misfits do their best to prepare for what Tara Markov took valuable time out of being dead to warn them about. The problem there though, of course, is that it's not like there isn't already a bunch of other things that need tending to. Love is blooming (whether some folks at Wayne Manor may approve of it or not), Lloyd is going to have to learn how to work with some of his peers in the world of magic, and Batman is preparing himself to go face-to-face with the new crime lord in Gotham City.

Oh, and there's also a demon invasion.

Find out the whos, whys, and what the hells as _Dig into the Deep _begins with the next installment of _The Misfits_: Many Appointments to Keep. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	91. Many Appointments to Keep

Issue #91

Many Appointments to Keep

_Gotham City – Citicorp National Headquarters - Roof_

"Give it up, Armstrong," Batman warned the criminal through gritted teeth, the longtime defender of Gotham City managing to look quite defiant and nearly unstoppable despite the cuts and burns that marred his familiar black-and-blue battle armor. "Your back-up is already in police custody, you've lost your arsenal and I'm giving you the option to stop this idiocy right now before you wake up in a prison hospital."

Ulysses Hadrian Armstrong replied with a nasty sneer that went unseen due the tawny mask that covered his youthful face. "Your pleas fall upon deaf ears, Dark Knight," the newly dubbed Anarky bit back while trying to disorient his persistent pursuer with the aid of a makeshift flash bomb. The specially crafted lenses over his eyes easily protected the potential crime lord from the explosion of light that followed while also allowing him the time to yank his last advantage, a Desert Eagle, from a hidden pocket stitched into his blood-red hooded attire. The Roman symbol for victory through wisdom that ran along the front of his chosen attire briefly caught a glint of the moonlight just as a bladed boomerang quickly sliced through the tendon connecting his right ring finger and thumb, the fresh pain forcing the former military school student to drop his weapon.

"My plans were meticulous, the stratagems constructed, gathered and perfected over months of strain!" Anarky bellowed as Batman swooped forward to take him on in close-quarters. There was little doubt that the younger man was a skilled fighter, his well-timed judo-style strikes and parries something that many of the American Special Forces he learned under would have never been able to match. "I will not allow them to be undone by anyone, let alone some costumed fool or a gaggle of street punks who think they have a right to sit at my throne!"

Batman wisely ignored the egotistical taunting as he quickly regained the advantage, the hours spent on patrol the only discernible reason why Anarky had ever gained a glimmer of an advantage in the first place. His 41-year-old bones did not let out one whit of a complaint as he crouched underneath a standing heel kick before easily responding with a knife-point chop to the back of Armstrong's right knee. The pain that bloomed from the precise strike cajoled the obsessed brat to let out an undignified yelp as he struggled to remain standing. His adversary now stuck trying to regain his own balance, the crafty veteran fighter needed little time to capitalize with a left jab to the gut followed by a quick spinning back fist with that same hand that sent his outgunned quarry crashing to the ground. He knew of the menace radiating from his powerful frame and continued to wrap himself around it like the cape that ran along his back, the fear stemming from Armstrong's hasty backpedaling fueling him in his impossible war.

A desperate launch of the last of his flash bombs bought Arkady a whit of time and that desperation quickly coerced him into abandoning all strategy as he set about making a hasty getaway. Perhaps he was planning to clamber down the nearby fire escape or even make some foolhardy attempt to leap from one high rise office building to another but Arkady had become so blinded by the terror he so longed to create within others that his sharp mind was unable to pick up a soft series of footsteps that had all been muted out by his own breathing and the noise brought about by his unwieldy sprinting. Likewise, he failed to recognize the hiss and crack of a leather cord unfurling and stretching forward at just under the speed of sound, the strong cord wrapping around his ankles and forcing him to plummet face-first to the ground.

"Nuh uh uh," Selina Kyle cautioned her recent capture, the former cat burglar sporting a slow, easy grin. "You may have hurt my arm candy there and I'm not about to have you leave without paying for the damages." The alluring vigilante known better to the world as Catwoman made certain to kept a firm grip on the handle of her whip while she allowed her jade-green eyes to savor the sight of the boy struggling to recover. Not in the mood to put in the effort it would take to drag Arkady to her, she was more than content to slink closer towards her captured criminal until she was able to stoop down and hog-tie the still woozy criminal mastermind with her preferred weapon of choice. Taking another customary moment to enjoy her good work, she then made sure to put together the smoothest smirk she could bring to her full, pouty lips in order to better antagonize what had long been her favorite source of nighttime entertainment.

"So I'm your arm candy now?" asked Batman, his voice somehow managing to stay rooted within its usually gloomy candor as he walked past his girlfriend in order to observe the captured criminal. Of course, the priggish reaction was exactly what Selina was looking for so the former criminal took no offense by it as her brooding beefcake passed her by.

"Well, I was going to say gigolo but then I remembered that you're the one with the deep pockets in this relationship," Catwoman countered, the femme fatale quite eager to stir up some more harmless irritation from the man she loved while winding her slim, muscular arms around Batman's torso. "Besides, I've done my good deed for the day. I can afford to be a little bad," she added with her distinctive purr.

The small handful of seconds it took for Batman to finally twist away from the awkward embrace said a great deal for how deeply Selina had dug her way inside. Of course, there would always be matters that would take precedence and the administration of the nerve strike that sent the ensnared Arkady slumping back down to the ground was certainly one of them.

"How refreshing it is to find a member of your suddenly souped up rogues gallery that we can take down on our own," Selina noted while Batman poked through Armstrong's pockets and hidden compartments in search for any more nasty surprises. "Honestly, lover. I haven't felt so insecure about my self-image since that time when Harley and I teamed up against Killer Croc and the horny 13-year-olds ended up asking for her autograph."

"Well, you'll pardon me if I don't find your self-depreciation to be completely authentic," Batman drawled out as he recovered his voice while rising back to his full height. "Although perhaps a male escort should simply not be allowed to speak."

Selina responded to the accusatory words and the half-smirk that came with them by moving forward with smooth, almost sliding steps. The slow, sweet kiss that followed was her way of taking the step forward, the proud feline enthusiast tilting her neck upward to make up for the lack of effort from her co-conspirator. Of course, the big, bad Dark Knight of Gotham City knew better than to avoid feeling her claws and soon took control of the situation by placing a firm hand onto the small of her back before leaning forward to deepen the gesture, the longtime detective always certain to give as good as he received. Goodness knows that the man's ego would have never allowed such a travesty and she was far too proud to accept anything less.

"And I'm once again forced to be the mature party in this relationship. Seriously, boss. I am feeling very awkward right now."

The two middle-aged vigilantes could only provide a pair of slightly hostile glares in response to the confident leer plastered over the face of Cecilia King-Jones, the young archer and Batman's current patrol partner easily recognizing that she had come upon an ever-rare opportunity to draw some cheap entertainment from her usually stone cold supervisor. Of course, a year of patrolling the streets of Gotham had taught Arrowette enough to know that she didn't just sneak up on the two battlefield veterans but the former member of Young Justice was still willing to take what she could find.

"Is the situation contained?" Batman asked while smoothly separating himself from Selina's supple embrace.

Arrowette nodded quickly. "C.C. helped the G.C.P.D. round up Arkady's little helpers before moving on to reinforcing the company's credit files to make sure that nobody got a hold of anything. Of course, Bullock's going to have the bomb squad check and make sure but I'm pretty certain I got to all the explosives this fruitcake placed on the building's supports. Kind of slow going but I think it's mission accomplished," she concluded while casually tossing a wrecked detonator straight into her boss's path.

"Good work," Batman easily replied while catching the switching structure with a similar lack of difficulty, his even demeanor drawing a mild look of disbelief from Selina that went unseen by the master detective. "Make certain that Bullock has everything secured before you clock out for the evening."

"Will do, boss man," Arrowette replied while providing a swift, snappy salute. "Oh, and Steph told me to tell you that she headed out of Grove Heights early so she could get to Devon before the day's classes got started."

Batman did his best not to grumble. And just as Arrowette had guessed, he failed miserably.

"Yeah, she was kind of hoping that you would react that way," Cecilia said with a lopsided smile as she quickly turned her back on her increasingly fuming instructor. "Oh, and let's try to practice a little abstinence here, ladies and gents. I think we can agree that the last thing we need is for our cover to be blown thanks to some perverted, public rendezvous."

Selina couldn't help but lightly chortle at the feisty teen as Cecilia made her exit but soon found herself pulled back to look upon the man she had chased and had been chased after for nearly two decades. She was right to expect that there was no mysterious half-smirk or even a distempered growl to be found on that handsome face but she still couldn't help but think that what she saw there instead was something she should have seen sooner. It was something she couldn't nail down or recognize and not even her love for adventure and the unknown was enough to keep her from being just a little bit frightened.

"What is it?" Batman nearly snapped at her.

"Oh, it's nothing," Selina casually replied, the carefree veil sliding into place as easily as it always did.

* * *

_The Watchtower – Main Communications Hub_

Nightwing had been learning to sneak his way out of unfamiliar and/or dangerous situations since a couple days after his sixth birthday, more specifically that first moon-dappled evening when he had finally convinced his father to teach him how to glide through the skies. The quarter of a century that followed had allowed him to pick up an impressive array of tricks, physical quirks, and psychological maneuvers that allowed him to become one of the best at what he did, his talents for sneaking his way out of temporarily unwinnable situations earning him quite the reputation as someone to be trusted and relied upon. Thus, with such an arsenal at hand, perhaps it could be considered a point of pride that this was the first time he truly considered attempting to gnaw off his own leg to escape what he had plunged into. Of course, it was a rather crude and rudimentary form of escape and the slow hemorrhaging and potential loss of a valuable limb were certainly steep consequences to be paid but such times often call for such measures.

"Seven thousand dollars!!" The Flash boomed out at him, the speedster waving back the latest edition of _Time _magazine in his hands as if it was a bit of dirty underwear he had just picked up off the floor. "PER SEMESTER! That's how much they're anticipating the average college tuition to be in 15 years, D!"

"So I've read," Nightwing calmly replied while resisting the palpable urge to look away or turn off the communications feed. All his detective instincts were warning him that the former option would have forced him to weather an accusation that he wasn't paying attention and the latter pick would have brought him head long into a face-to-face confrontation with his harried friend and it wasn't like he could subtly chew on his quadriceps directly in front of The Fastest Man Alive. "There's also this nice article about the potential logistic downfalls of the three-dimensional television and the potential backlash against advancing technology that. . ."

"What the fuck do they need all that money for?!" The sheer force of Wally's spitting inquiry was more than enough to convince the domino-masked Justice Leaguer that his buddy wasn't listening. "Those silly ass hats they wear at graduation? I mean, does a college football team whose players forget how to tackle every half hour really need two new football stadiums in 15 years?"

The crude questions quietly reminded Nightwing that he had to renew his season tickets for the Gotham Knights (he made sure to get some for Roy and Lian too because of his alumni discount) while also prompting him to recognize that this was not one of those things he thought he would have to deal with when he finally became a part of "the big time" as Hal had brazenly put it (or "the shit center of the totalitarian scum suckers" as a smaller, fair-haired, more punchy supernaturally powered guardian of the galaxy had offered in response). After all, there wasn't a section in the Justice League charter that said that he would have to deal with a friend's sufficiency-related woes while watching over the world from the vantage point of the galaxy's largest man-made satellite. Still, he did suppose that there were other things to worry about that weren't supplied in the job description. The tension that was lingering about thanks to the imminent return of Superman and Wonder Woman, for example.

Of course, it wasn't about not wanting or even needing either the fully recovered Man of Steel or Themyscira's envoy to the world by their side as they waged their unique war in front of the eyes of the world. Lord knows it was useful to be by the side of someone with the power of a god but the fact remained that being in the midst of such power also tended to bring out either the best and the worst of those who had to look up to them, even if those onlookers were doing so from five miles above the Earth. It was that tension that was forcing Dinah to occasionally let out a sheepish apology for the way her legs would shake under the table during the morning briefings and tempting Garth to flee from this place and never come back with each update from Metropolis or The Isle of The Amazons. People who had grown more and more uncomfortable with their unenviable occupations were finding themselves growing nervous by something that should have made their jobs a whole lot easier.

But Nightwing was fit as a fiddle though. Absolutely. Nothing to worry about here. The fact that he was suddenly quite interested in hearing his friend's bitching was nothing more than a mere coincidence.

"And why can't all these big department stores ever carry more appropriate clothing sizes for toddlers?" The Flash seethed. "I mean, if you buy 'em a couple sizes too big thinking that they'll grow into them then the kids will just look silly in them and if you buy them in the right size then they'll just ruin them with their next growth spurt."

"Yes, it's all a grand conspiracy specifically targeted to piss you off," piped in a softer but still more dignified voice than Nightwing was able to bring to the table just as the door behind the source had slid shut. Naturally, both of the former Teen Titans were quick to turn their attention toward Hal Jordan as the veteran Green Lantern made his way forward, the current field commander of The Justice League looking quite comfortable with the attention placed on his metaphorical doorstep. "Wallace, is it just not impossible for you to think that maybe you're just too anxious about how you're going to take care of your kids?"

The Flash offered a cold glare in response, the injection of honesty and good sense nothing short of an intolerable offense. "Okay, I am not about to take advice on fatherhood from the man who was directly responsible for buying sailboats for Trojan's board of directors!" he then spat back with a great deal more heat to his delivery.

Nightwing quirked his lips to one side as he first considered the frowning Hal Jordan before returning his sights to a silently indignant Wally West. "It's like I never left Titans Tower," he finally mused aloud while continuing to settle into his chair, his pithy observation going largely ignored by his targets. "And I would like to remind the both of you that we're not here to talk about our respective mountains of psychological issues."

"And let's thank the good Lord for that," Hal concurred, the former Air Force ace pilot quick to reassemble his professionalism under fire. "Has your side managed to gather any more information on what this warning may be about?"

Wally's glower twisted slightly upward until it became a slight frown. "We're getting there. For better or worse, we'll probably know a whole lot more after our little hocus-pocusers do their thing."

"Maybe so but the wording of the warning still leaves a lot of room for misinterpretation," Nightwing reminded his colleagues, the domino-masked vigilante briefly steepling his fingers until his locked fingers could safely support the weight of his chin as he leaned down. "I mean, there's a lot of things that can turn our worlds upside down, both literally and metaphorically."

"If you don't mind my saying so, I may not know as much about the girl's history but perhaps this girl's appearance in Donna's vision was some kind of self-manifestation of guilt." Hal threw in, the Green Lantern's insight drawing both intrigue and a sense of agitation to his younger compatriots. "After all, you told me that Troia's mind was still heavily caught within whatever The Anti-Life Equation was doing to her."

"No. She's certain of it," Dick said back tightly and quickly. "I don't know why it was Terra that came to warn her or why she would be able to come to Donna at that specific time but both she and Lloyd are certain that Markov was telling the truth."

"Yeah, but it's how we interpret that truth that may or may not bite us in the ass," The Flash couldn't help but add. "Come to think of it, should we really be having this conversation while the majority of us are in the one place we don't want this information heard?"

"Don't worry, buddy. Not a word of this is leaving the room," Nightwing replied confidently. "C.C's scramblers have got everything well in hand on the airwaves front and the Justice Leaguers who would care about us sneaking around either are either not here or just to busy to be looking for us."

"And besides, if we do get caught then Nightwing's ex will have something good to bitch about for the next couple of weeks."

"Also true," Nightwing replied while shooting a rueful glare at his smirking superior officer. "Okay, we'll wait for Demon Boy to finish his digging and then we'll work our way from there. Ooh, and tell my dad to go to hell while you're at it."

"Ahhhh, I was gonna do that anyway," The Flash answered with a hint of cheer before promptly shutting off his end of the connection and leaving the two daredevils to themselves. Somewhat perturbed by the silence, the former acrobat let out a sigh before briefly sliding away from the nearby console, a mild hint of concern still marring his otherwise appealing countenance.

"I still think that you and Bruce are worrying too much about this," Hal said with a quiet but stern timbre. "We've all gone through a lot together and the fact remains that the stuff we try to hide always turns bad when it gets all laid out in the open."

Nightwing offered a harsh glare at the Green Lantern as he remembered some of those particular, once-buried truths and couldn't help but feel a bit of respect for the man who refused to look away in return. "Nothing like this though," Nightwing said, his eyes almost eager to return to staring at the floor. "Zanna's given her support, Dinah's more concerned about whether or not Roy and Lian are okay, Reddy always has his things to worry about, and it's safe to say that Tempest would be receptive to what we're trying to do." The longtime understudy to Gotham's Dark Knight looked up again. "The rest of them aren't going to be as forgiving."

Hal couldn't help but nod. "Diana. . . Ollie. . ."

"Clark," the two of them said simultaneously, the simple word somehow sounding impossibly heavy to say. Nightwing surprised himself by being the first one to break free from the strain, his thin lips letting out a wisp of a breath.

"Gee, Hallie. Ya sure we can't convince Plastic Man to stay on?"

The brown-haired powerhouse offered a quick smile before breaking his share of the silence as well. "Eel's got a kid he needs to look after," Hal replied through a brief hint of chuckling. "Still, there's nothing better to soothe a suspicious beast like some good news," he then considered. "We've rebuilt everything we lost to The Sinestro Corps, many of the worst threats we've had to deal with are looking to either hide or find somewhere else to hang their hat. The Justice League has regained its feet, the Green Lantern Corps is back to full strength and I don't think this world of ours has been this safe in a long time."

"Sooooooo, everything's about to go to hell?" Nightwing ventured a guess.

"Oh yeah," Hal replied.

* * *

_Gotham City – The Batcave _

Kara allowed some time for the deep rumble of discontent to flow through her ears as it filtered through the dank, cramped confines of the room around her, the half-Kryptonian calmly keeping her legs crossed while placing a smidge of her attention on following the sound waves as they stretched and expanded before fading away altogether from the strain of gravity. Her crystalline-blue eyes lightly shut, she could almost feel the oxygen and carbon dioxide filtering through her body as her strong heart continued to slow itself until it was at a snail's crawl, the tension rumbling about the predictably murky surroundings doing little to disturb her. Her serenity stood firm as she let herself exhale, her lanky fingers twitching just slightly in response to the steady expansion and contraction of her chest.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But could you remind me of what we're trying to do here?"

Another grumble surfaced before the recipient of Kara's question saw fit to reply. "Nothin' too complicated, really. This is just a simple Anapanasati ritual designed to cleanse one's mind and body from thoughts or impulses that may prohibit either from operating at peak efficiency."

The former Supergirl was kind enough to wait and allow for any additional input before she said her piece. "Oh, okay. Now I understand. So it's all about taking the stuff that could build up and choosing to let it go before it prompts you to go and do something foolish."

"Pretty much," Lloyd replied, the Brit's eyes also shut as he attempted to wrap up his explanation. "Still, as bloody important as it is to piece out wot's causing your frustration, it's just as crucial to let it go and allow whatever happens to run its course."

"Ah," Kara puffed out, her lover unable to see her head slowly bobbing up then down. "So, say, if somebody is all wound up about somebody getting into a relationship with somebody they don't approve of. . ."

"Yeah, that kind of thing can really just piss on everyone's parade," Lloyd agreed. "Quite inconvenient it would be for all involved."

"You can't possibly approve of this," Bruce Wayne finally broke down with a growl, his hunter's gaze snapping open while his younger comrades seemingly remained the picture of tranquility.

"Of course I don't," Lloyd said in a matter-of-fact fashion, his lanky frame hovering just inches off of the mats that lined the floor. "Still, when it comes to Steph doing things I don't approve of, I've often found it wise to adopt a Bizarro-world like perspective."

"Me am doing something that family not like," Kara added with a deep grumble meant to serve as her impersonation of her cousin's longtime nemesis and occasional ally. "Me not happy if me not do what they say." Finding herself confused by her own wording, the greatest female fighter on the planet finally pried open her wide eyes to look at her teacher squarely. "Why is it so hard for you to just go and tell Stephanie that you don't approve of her dating Cesar?"

Bruce responded by shutting his eyes with far more tenacity than Kara had put into opening hers. "Given your own takes on the situation, I would hope that the both of you would be smart enough to realize how fruitless such an effort would be," the detective said through a forceful clench of his teeth. "Not to mention that taking such a bold stance would obviously entail that I care about what foolishness Robin gets herself into." The man behind The Batman hastily opened his eyes once again to fire a menacing glare at the slightly expectant stares being fired in his direction. _"Which I don't_," he then viciously added before slamming his eyes shut once again.

"Of course," Kara said with a smidge of delicacy, the young woman still a bit too cowed by her image of The Dark Knight to press forward any further. "Still, you're smart enough to know that something like this is just going to build up until it leads to something you can't control."

"Or maybe it'll just lead to the two of you going halfway across the world before getting into a gawky make-out session after Doc Thompkins perforates your chest with a half-dozen scalpels. . ."

"Not helping here, sweetie," Kara chidingly informed her boyfriend as Bruce rse to his feet. Her sharp ears managed to take in another of the middle-aged man's broody grumbles as the expert detective strode away, the stoic professionalism built over the course of nearly three decades enough to keep Batman from outright stomping away like a five-year-old. _"Y'know, looking back on all this drama, I'm once again counting my blessings that whatever's left of my father's corpse is probably stuck to some asteroid about 150 light years away."_

"_Ah, such are the trials and tribulations of daily domestic disputes," _Lloyd thought back through their telepathic link, the both of them smart enough to realize the foolishness of broadcasting such thoughts aloud. _"So how was your day, luv?"_

"_Not too bad," _Kara answered while she slowly sunk back into her peaceful state of mind. _"Well, after the requisite half-hour of listening to Steph whine about Bruce being a doo-doo head whose so infatuated with seeing a pair of D-cups that he can't realize how wrong Selina is for him."_

An exceedingly pregnant pause suddenly fell into the proceedings that neither half-blood could simply ignore. _"Eldest heir to The Distinguished House of El,_" Lloyd begged. "_Please tell me those were her words."_

"_Oh, yeah," _Kara replied, her lips twisting upward into a smile upon hearing The Black Dog's sigh of relief. _"Almost makes you glad that there's a demonic invasion on the docket, huh?"_

"_**Suspected **__demonic invasion," _Lloyd stressed back in return. _"After all, prophecies like these do have a tendency to lose something in the translation."_

Kara allowed the point to lie, the 18-year-old powerhouse needing only a flicker of time to think back to Orion's last stand and remember just how true Lloyd's words could be. _"Well, here's hoping we've found a way to make things a little clearer. You're going to be heading out there soon, I'm guessing?"_

"_Yeah. Maybe in about a half-hour or so,_" Lloyd tiredly thought back while a dawdling gust of air escaping through his nostrils. The silence that rose, both from body and mind, seemed to relax the former mercenary as he allowed himself some peace. The situation between Batman and Robin may have allowed for more than a little frustration but he couldn't help but that that it did his pessimistic thoughts good to be able to come back and enjoy what little calm there was to be had.

"_Well, I know you're worried about setting a good first impression so I'll just tell you right now not to worry." _Kara knowingly thought back, the half-Praxian quite proud of her ability to sift through the façade put up by the man that loved her. "_All you have to do is just be yourself and show them what you can _mmph!"

The slender woman suddenly found herself beset upon by a familiar pair of lips. A smoothly persistent tongue briefly pushed through her outer defenses before she even wanted to stop it, the thin tip of the dexterous muscle tickling the front surface of her own tongue and causing her to let out a slight and stifled moan. The feel of those small, thick fingers skimming the back of her neck before rising to brush through the back of her closely cropped blonde hair made her feel a little fuzzy just before Lloyd pulled away, the smiling half-demon looking quite proud of his trickery.

"Damn you," Kara said crossly, her eyes narrowing with slightly genuine irritation.

"Damn you too, pet," Lloyd answered with a grin, the young man keeping his face just close enough to his lover so that she could lean up and give him a quick peck on the lips. There was a faint popping sound as The Black Dog teleported away, the brief energy signature registering itself within a strong part of Kara's senses even as she shut her eyes once again.

"Peace and quiet at last," she whispered to herself as the rest of her remained still, the gathering of her tremendous wellspring of energy already underway.

* * *

_Devon – Saizeru Monastery_

Panic permeated through the thoughts of Lian Harper as she shut the door behind her as quickly but quietly as possible, the copper-skinned girl feeling her strong heart beating against her chest as she looked desperately for somewhere to hide. Her eyes were forced to adjust to the sudden, surrounding darkness as the light outside was taken from her, the chilly depths providing a worthy accompaniment to her own fear. Drops of sweat quickly flung themselves from the tips of her long, black hair as she tore ahead, her footsteps thankfully muffled by the chapel's thick carpeting and providing a flicker of hope that she wouldn't be found. Frantically finding purchase underneath one of the wide, wooden benches that lay in rows across the middle of the expansive room, she summoned what little good sense she could muster and tried to keep her breathing soft and her motions limited, the daughter of Roy Harper trying desperately to stay alive.

Seconds passed. The stillness soon became all encompassing as the girl frenziedly thought that she might be in the clear. She risked poking her small head from her hiding spot, her eyes darting upward and side-to-side to see if the monster had failed to pick up her trail.

"GRAAAAAGH!"

Lian couldn't help but scream as she found herself swept into a pair of arms she couldn't hope to escape from, the tight grip stealing the air from her little lungs while she did her best to squirm away. Her protests died in her throat as soon as the predator sunk its fangs into the girl's gullet, the merciless beast taking exactly what it wanted and leaving no room for mercy. Well, perhaps sinking was not the best way to word it. A nip seems more appropriate and that was soon followed by a melodramatic display of chomping sounds as Lian's chest nearly burst with laughter.

"Nom nom nom nom nom," concluded Stephanie Brown, the young Green Lantern still holding Lian in her arms despite the distraction of her nose occasionally bumping into the girl's chin as she nuzzled her favorite niece. "Yummy peanut. Nom, nom, nom." Robin finally allowed Roy Harper's daughter to put her feet back on solid ground, the toothy grin she had to specifically concoct for the moment giving her prey enough time to swerve around and adopt a very accusatory stare.

"No fair, Aunt Stephanie," Lian groused while stomping her right foot. "You cheated with your ring!"

"Nuh uh," Stephanie countered with an equal supply of infantile behavior while employing the accused ring to light the poorly lit space around them. "I followed the sound of your footsteps fair and square."

"Well, I still say you cheated," the younger girl pouted while crossing her stubby arms across her chest. "Okay! Now it's my turn to find you!" she then burbled several seconds later, the anger abandoned in a carefree manner that only a child can seemingly pull off.

The sharp slamming of the door behind them caused both girls to jump and turn towards the noise. Their eyes then quickly met the critical stare of a gentleman wrapped entirely in black save for the white collar around the base of his neck that identified him as a man of the cloth. Standing several heads above Stephanie and seemingly towering over Lian, the priest continued to silently regard them while moving forward with slow, quiet, and broad steps that helped create a presence that could inspire anything from shame to fear to unfettered relief.

"I think I might have a better idea with what the two of you can do with your time," said the intimidating holy man, a distinct American Southern accent coarsening his words while his weathered left hand briefly brushed through his short, brown hair as he spoke. "Perhaps you should quit lollygagging about here in these hallowed halls and set about doin' what you're supposed to be doin'."

"Hi, Mister Caleb," Lian meekly responded, the usually carefree girl suddenly becoming a great deal more sheepish under the weighty stare from the minister's beetle-black eyes. "I was just playing with my Aunt. . ."

"Stephanie Brown. Yes, I know," Caleb interrupted before moving forward and extending his hand to the young Green Lantern. "I've heard about you from Miss Agnes," he said curtly as he and the fair-haired Gothamite shook hands. "A very fine woman, your momma. Can't quite understand how she could come to raise someone quite so unnecessarily disruptive but I suppose it's not my place to dispense blame."

The usually garrulous understudy of The Batman would have normally replied with something doubtlessly urbane and witty but suddenly found herself struggling to bring circulation back into her right hand. "Well, I. . . like to keep her on her toes," Stephanie finally replied while taking an unnecessary step backward, the surprising strength in Caleb's handshake still throwing her for a bit of a loop. "I came here to see her but I guess I got a little sidetracked," she then confessed, the tone of her words quickly becoming unsatisfactory to her and she resolved to make up for it. "That being said, exactly how does a guy who sounds like he should be in The Bible Belt selling cupcakes and damnation make his way over to Northern England?"

"Well, pardon me for using a hackneyed phrase but the Lord does work in mysterious ways," Caleb coolly replied, the minister seemingly not the least bit fazed by the suspicion rooted in Robin's ears. "I am merely here to do the Lord's work, even if such labors might include keepin' two youngins from goin' where they shouldn't be."

"That is enough, Brother Caleb," interrupted a softer, more genteel voice as the heavy door slid open once again. An old man appeared through the aperture, his slow, shuffling steps somewhat aided by the white cane clutched within his right hand. His protracted forehead and jaw line seemed to indicate that the fellow was once quite tall but time had clearly shrunken him down until he now stood several inches below Stephanie. Likewise, his shoulder-length hair had paled so much that it almost looked white against his sun ravaged face, his forest green and white vicar robes seemingly too large to now fit his gaunt, emaciated frame. "Miss Stephanie is a friend of Lloyd and she shall be treated with the respect that our good friend has earned."

"My apologies, Brother Valsu," Caleb said quickly, the big man stepping aside to allow the old man the opportunity to greet his guest more sufficiently. The kindly smile from Valsu's face quickly caused a grateful smirk to creep onto Stephanie's lips. Lian did even more than that, the little lady quickly attempting to use the wooden benches for cover as she tried to make her way from the room. She managed to weave her way around the three adults before some gentle humming caused her to stand still as a stone. There was a slight smile on the old man's face as he slowly turned around to meet Lian's downcast countenance, the young student reaching her slight hands into the pockets of her jeans and pulling out an ornate billfold that she quickly placed in Valsu's open left palm.

"Forgive me for involving you in our affairs, Miss Stephanie," Valsu said with a slight nod of his head. "But it appears that a recently arrived guest just happened to lose a hold on their wallet, a recently arrived guest who just so happened to meet our young student and quickly managed to get on her bad side."

"I thought I told you that the Lord don't take kindly to thieves," Caleb forcefully warned his scurrilous charge.

Knowing she was beat, the diminutive thief responded by sticking out her tongue, a gesture that prompted Stephanie to let out an unwilling snort while Valsu subtly brought his left ring finger and thumb to trap his lips together. As expected, Caleb was far more forward with his response, the bulky priest hastily snatching Lian and carrying her over his shoulder.

"Apparently you forgot to read the good book," Caleb said while swinging the door open with his free hand. "'Cause then you'd know that the good Lord is also not very big on smart alecks."

Stephanie waved goodbye to Lian as the door shut once again, her pale, blue eyes scanning over the old man from start to finish. "So I'm guessing that you're the head honcho here, Father Murphy?"

"In so far as the human matters are concerned, Miss Brown," the old man answered, his unfazed tone allowing Stephanie to reach some form of good sense and prompt her to respond with a respectful bob of her head. "Given all that your mother has done for us these many months, I must apologize for never meeting with you personally until now. I am Valsu Saizer, the head abbot of this monastery. Permit me to bring you to your mother."

"Okely dokely," Stephanie said as she quickly bounced ahead to keep up with Valsu's slower trundles. "In the meantime, maybe you can tell me just how you came to be buddies with my half-demon of a big brother."

Valsu's first reply was a soft, tingling laugh. "I am afraid that matter is under confidence, my child," he then vocally replied while kindly holding the weighty wooden door open for his guest to pass through.

* * *

_Unlisted Residence Thirty Miles from the center of Gotham City_

Lloyd avoided blinking in disbelief at the picturesque landscape seemingly taken straight from the pages of a high-end garden magazine. A rigorous winter seemed to take a bit of a toll on the vegetation around him but the early morning hours allowed what remained to show off the affluent beauty that waited in the wings. A tall hickory stood proudly to the left of the half-demon, its thick branches patiently waiting for the sunlight that it would fully restore its stern majesty while the moss and lichen that lay in the tall shadows underneath it continued to expand their own awkward beauty. It was only a matter of time before the deep layer of powdery snow would lift from this ground and allow for life to begin here once again, the certainty of it somehow managing to soothe the half-demon's somewhat rankled senses.

"What are ya thinkin' 'bout this, Answer Man?" The Black Dog asked back over the comm. link in a half-interested candor. "Know you gotta have somethin' rattling about in that noggin of yours."

A brief sigh emerged on the other end of the line and Lloyd could almost see Noah Kuttler running his left palm along his wrinkled forehead. "Well, I must confess that my knowledge of the occult could be considered unforgivably brief, particularly considering the matter at hand," the technological expert of The Misfits confessed from the safety of his quarters within the catacombs under Wayne Manor. "Still, I must admit that this hardly matches my previous hypothesis concerning where a famous mystic would chose to hang their metaphorical hat."

Lloyd took that in with a knowing grin as he continued to look about. "Well, that's the kicker when it comes to fields like magic and technology, innit? You can never know everything."

"Yes, that is quite the inevitable conundrum," The Calculator agreed. "Still, I suppose that such futility gives the both of us something to do with our spare time."

"Quite so," Lloyd confirmed as he bent his knees downward in order to properly scoop up a mound of the surrounding snow before continuing to trudge uphill towards the well-lit manor now nearly 35 yards away. "Takes me back to the time when Mao made me and Vincent spend two weeks studying up on the work of some demonologist that had unlocked the secrets of some primordial mysticism that was said to exist even before the dinosaurs came about. Slow, bloody work and it seemed like it took an hour to get through a page."

Noah offered a sympathetic sigh. "Well, I suppose that such earnest labors were sure to draw some tangible rewards. After all, you have informed me that your knowledge of antediluvian mysticism is nearly unparal. . ."

"The whole thing was a load of bunk, mate," Lloyd broke in as his brain began to put the pieces together. His lips continued to move despite not making a sound, the human host of The Condemner tapping into the archaic flows of energy that Noah had mentioned before. A small portion of his mind was able to register his middle-aged friend considering the psychoanalytical objectives within Mao's choice to involve his two students within a largely fruitless exercise but much of the 20-year-old was focused on breaching through the obstacle presented to him, his hazel eyes regaining a familiar silver tinge as the lush winter field was replaced with a dull, lifeless landscape more befitting a centuries-old haven for the black arts. The lofty hickory tree remained but now its branches were bare thanks to centuries of aging rather than by the simple changing of the seasons, the sole source of life stemming from a tawny barn owl that was looking at him with quite a surprised air within its wide eyes.

"I'm curious here," Lloyd said while continuing to move forward. "Just what are you seeing right now, C.C.?"

"Well, I must confess that the front garden has been particularly well-maintained given the harshness of the last several weeks," Noah replied. "I am particularly fond of the well-cut topiaries thought the fact that you appear to be hitting one of them with your fist tells me that there's something I may be missing."

"I would say so," Lloyd replied with a smirk as he pulled his right fist back after rapping it against the front door. The owl let out a sharp hoot before spreading its long wings outward and beginning its trek to the roof of the dark manor house, the ebony-colored stone steps not exactly presenting the most amiable of welcomes as the tall door swung open.

"Well, well, well, I was wondering when you guys would show up on my doorstep," noted the master of the house as they gave their guest a quick once over. "Kind of odd that the cat decided to drag in a dog this time."

Lloyd responded with a slight tilt of his eyebrows, the telepath refusing to resort to his gift as he took in the challenging though genial smile on the face of his opponent. "Well, I've always been comfortable with bucking the traditional ways."

The lively smile he received in return told Lloyd that he had guessed right, the slight twinkle in the witch's baby-blue eyes goading a grin from him as well.

"Verrrrrrry nice return shot. Your boss would've just grunted. Or maybe just ignore all conversation altogether," the host replied while extending a slim hand wrapped within a white, silk glove. "Zatanna Zatara."

"Lloyd Thomas," The Black Dog softly replied while accepting the kind gesture before sidling his way into the manor proper. "I'm presuming that Batman informed you of my arrival."

"Indeed he did," Zatanna replied while easily shutting the heavy door with a mere wave of her hand. "Of course, he didn't tell me as much as I would have liked about what kind of mojo you're looking for me to help you with but I'm guessing that you'll be able to help fill in the blanks." Bruce's longtime friend began to make her way through the tall, columned hall that served as the mansion's atrium and Lloyd was quick to follow close behind.

"I suppose I can give it a shot," he offered while making a pointed effort to avoid staring, vocally stumbling, or anything else Stephanie accused him of doing frequently whenever he came across one of Bruce's female colleagues. Still, it was quite obvious that what little charm there was to be found outside of the grounds was quickly made up by the effervescence of the woman who presided within. She was smaller and less stocky than Wonder Woman or Black Canary but the energy housed within the small frame provided an appeal of its own. The shoulder-length black hair framed around the lightly-tanned face added another hint of mystery to the woman, the mystic in him unwillingly intrigued by the mysteries that lay within a creature that looked like nothing but was certainly a great deal more.

In fact, Lloyd almost considered it a blessing that Zatanna had chosen to wear a pair of long pants rather than the leotard and fishnets that had helped make her a sex symbol on the mystic entertainment circuit. After all, the last thing he needed was to need another reason to stutter or stumble when Roy and Wally asked about all this.

And, lest we forget, his girl had strong ears.

"Impressive glamour you've cobbled together outside," Lloyd ventured. "Mu'sluch transmogrification amalgam, I'm presuming."

"Yeah, with a little smattering of Wicca-brand wards thrown in," Zatanna replied, the same casual tone that Lloyd used when he wanted to impress someone poured all over the woman's words. "Spend enough time in the public eye and you'll end up wanting to go old school for a bit. So what do we know about this supposed prophecy?"

"Not as much as we'd like," Lloyd confessed while resisting the urge to jam his hands into his pockets. "Markov's exact words were that the order underneath your souls would soon fall apart. Should you wish to persevere, seek the child of Neron hiding beneath your once and forever home."

"Well, that isn't much info is there?" Zatanna agreed as the both of them came to a stairwell, the heels of her surprisingly functional tennis shoes clomping briefly against the well-cut wood as she led the way into the subterranean levels of her ancestral home. "Still, there's no denying that there's been a glut of supernatural activity lately, what with the Fyarls going crazy in Budapest and everything else that's makin' me want to ask if the JLA if they're going to man up and pay me overtime."

"Which is why Batman and I want to check and see if there's somethin' screwy going around in some of the nearby hell dimensions, particularly the ones that Neron is known to muck about it." Lloyd frowned as he considered the circumstances of the matter at hand. "Well, the potential demonic invasion thing. Not whether or not you deserve overtime," he unnecessarily clarified amidst the pressure presented by Zatanna's saucy smirk. "'Course, I didn't want to go through somethin' like that alone and you were the first person Bruce mentioned when it came to somebody reliable."

The current Justice Leaguer involuntarily stopped dead in her tracks, the sudden cease of movement causing Lloyd to nearly trudge ahead before he came to a stop as well. There was something uncertain flickering through the witch's eyes for only a moment, the usual vigor honed from a lifetime of helping others in one way or another briefly blunted by the potential of a single compliment. It was all enough to make Lloyd want to go back to Wayne Manor and kick his boss square in the chest but the slow smile that finally crept onto the lips of his erstwhile partner was enough to convince Lloyd that he was worrying over nothing.

"Well, who would've thunk it," Zatanna finally offered. "A pair of surprises dropped right onto my doorstep and we haven't even stepped into hell yet."

* * *

_Philadelphia – Free Will Baptist Church _

Indigo Gutierrez nearly let out a screech as she accidentally ran into a stranger's chest, the fear roiling through the 22-year-old Cuban refugee causing her coffee-colored skin to grow paler and clammy from the exertion and the sweat that poured off her slim arms. Wide, black eyes swept over the minister's robes and the calm but worried expression on the man's face and she managed to take the tiniest hint of relief away from the encircling panic. Her body was still quivering as she wrapped the unfamiliar person in a tight bear hug, tears spilling down her slightly chubby cheeks as her lungs took in valuable gasps of air.

"Help me! Please! You must help me!" the woman all but screamed in her native Spanish. "Why are they after me?"

"After you?" the man asked curiously. "Who is after you, my child?"

"My. . . my family," Guiterrez warbled, her small hands still quivering as she pulled away. "I thought they were dead but now they have found me. Why do they want to hurt me?"

The reverend adopted a look of confusion as he drew the woman into his arms once again. "Please. You are not making any sense," he whispered. his bony, long fingers of his left hand wrapping around the back of the girl's head as she wailed into his chest. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for you to be afraid," he replied while pulling in the girl just a little bit tighter. "Maybe it's just because you're just an filthy, little whore."

The poor girl barely had the time to register her surprise before the curved blade sliced through her stomach, the ebony-colored blade easily cutting through skin and bone to allow the blood to spill onto both the minister's robes as well as the patchwork carpet below. The holy man found his first reason to smile as he took in the horror trapped on his victim's face as she fell lifelessly to the ground, the knowledge that she would wear that face until the skin rotted from the bones providing an unnecessary reminder that his work was truly good. He then rewarded himself by bringing his blade up to his tongue and licking the blade with slow, lascivious strokes, his parched throat relishing the scarlet sustenance that covered the demonic instrument despite the disapproving sigh from the monster standing in the shadows.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the kindly-eyed man finally noted. "Are we feeling a bit peckish?"

"Such a display of violence was largely unnecessary," the murderer's guest offered in a calm but threatening manner. "You would be wise to resist engaging in this kind of behavior when in Gotham. The work you must do there, inconsequential as it may be, is a necessity."

The first reply offered by the subordinate was a deep swallow, the energy offered by the stolen blood involuntarily turning the demon's beetle-black eyes back to their usual crimson-red. The rest of the glamour faded away in short order to reveal a frightfully pale young man with a delicate nose, slight lips and a lean, muscular frame that couldn't hope to fit the robes of the holy man whose blood he had drained not twenty minutes before. It was an abomination that such a beast would adopt the image of such a devout man and that knowledge was something that the young demon treasured greatly.

"All those pretty, little girls waiting for me," Sebastian Blood cooed. "Oh, I assure you that what I'm about to do is quite essential."

* * *

Misfits Confidential

Not much to say here, I'm afraid. I've done a lot of working, a lot of writing, spent a minor bit of time eating and talking with friends and I'm making money. The cheddar is flowin' in lovely as the kids say these days. And as I recover from the damage that comes from any attempts to sound cool, allow me to be once again thankful for my readers and my reviewers because you guys make this whole writing thing a great deal more fulfilling.

Seriously, why did my Packers have to lose like that?

* * *

_Issue #92 Preview_

Bruce Wayne is on a ruthless rampage of depressive behavior! And who will be his next unfortunate target on his journey to abandon his fatherly-focused frustrations? Will it be the good Commissioner Gordon and the fine men and women of the Gotham City Police Department? Will it be his patrol partner? His oldest friends? Or perhaps he'll just tick off the last guy in Gotham that he should be making angry? All this and that whole continuing demonic invasion thing in the next installment of _The Misfits_: We Think You're Paranoid. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	92. We Think You're Paranoid

Issue #92

We Think You're Paranoid

Detective Harvey Bullock was in a lousy mood as his pudgy legs carried him up stairwell after stairwell, his shoes loudly clomping against each and every step he clambered over. Of course, it was hardly unusual that the longtime gumshoe would have a bit of a sour disposition at this late hour but the recent power outage that handily shut down the office's elevators had served to shift his mild teeth clenching into an out-and-out scowl. The cigar trapped between his thick lips suffered the consequences as he turned to make his way up another round of steps, the end result of what staffers believed to be the man's 127th attempt to quit smoking still somewhat smoldering at its cylindrical edge. So moody was our unlikely hero, in fact, that not even his recent achievements, a series of beneficial events peaking at the joy brought about from sending a trio of Anarky's brats and misfits to the prison hospital with the aid of some timely fisticuffs, only provided more fuel for the potentially volatile grouchiness.

"_They just don't make these mooks like they used to_," Bullock chewed over in his head as his ears picked up the sharp static of his police communicator. "Ya better got that warehouse cleaned up by now, Harper," he then growled out between a series of quick but labored breaths.

"We're almost done here," responded Lieutenant Jamie Harper with her far calmer tones, the veteran policewoman and recent transfer from Bludhaven obviously used to Bullock's occasionally abrasive workside manner. "Just wanted to make sure that you heard the news about what's going on at the station."

"Just. . . lookin' in on it right now," Bullock replied as he tried in vain to take a puff from his cheap cigar while simultaneously continuing his steady scrambling. "Here's hopin' there's a bit more action up here than what we found over there." The stocky officer of the law let out a deep but quiet breath as he finally came to a stop, the frustrated fellow having been in enough unknown situations to know the consequences of going into something like this without a clear head. "Maybe that little military school punk has brought some more efficient people to play with this time."

"Be careful, partner," Harper said with as much caution as she thought her senior officer would allow.

The somewhat cranky grumble Bullock let out in response was enough to convince Harper than she was still in the elder detective's good graces. "Don't have to worry about me, kiddo. Ain't nothin' that can get past ol' Big Bad HAAAAAARGH!"

Harvey's mystery assailant was equipped with enough kindness to at least try and look sympathetic. Of course, it wasn't before long before the paternal instincts kicked in and Bullock was treated to a cautionary glare.

"Keeping our wits about us, Lieutenant Bullock?"

Harvey needed only a fraction of a second to choose to throw caution to the wind and fire back with a curmudgeonly sneer. "Geez, Commish! You tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

"Anything to help you lose a few pounds and get past another annual physical," Gordon coolly jabbed back before shifting his wizened eyes up the flights of stairs that remained. Of course, it wasn't long before the police commissioner was on the move, his quick and steady movements almost defying the wear and tear he had endured for what was coming upon six-and-a-half decades. Bullock was quick to follow just a few steps behind, as was his way, and the next handful of seconds passed by with relative silence.

"So whaddaya think the deal is here? Think somethin' might be up?"

"Don't know yet,_" _the elder of the two officers answered while continuing his steady sprint, the twenty years separating the commissioner from the detective enough to keep their paces even. "We both know about a lot of the times something like this happened and most of them haven't ended well."

"Still say, eyah," Bullock mumbled with a gasp as they neared the door leading to the roof, "think the raid went a little too well. I mean, we manage to rake in a couple hundred guns and about a ton of coke and the only thing left to guard it is about a dozen of Thorne's old rejects?"

"Stranger things have happened, Harvey," Jim sagely noted while sliding to a stop in front of the door separating the both of them from the familiar setting outside. The act of slipping his revolver free from his shoulder holster was all but instinctual for the wizened investigator, the aged but still dangerous weapon ready to perform whatever deed it was being asked to finish. A quick, silent stare towards his longtime associate was enough to allow Bullock to take the lead, the big man holding his Colt .45 Special at the forefront while bringing his size 12 boot swinging forward to forcefully push open the door.

"Put the gun away, detective."

Bullock narrowed his eyes as he stared down The Batman, the familiar paranoia centered around the man already threatening to sneak in. He couldn't help but wonder how the vigilante managed to seemingly stay shrouded despite the waning moonlight and the bright shine of the light signal projector built in the freak's honor. He was still calm enough, however, to place his firearm back in its familiar holster that stood strapped to his rounded waist, the hardened expert of the streets responded to the cocky order with a light puff of his cigar that sent a thick waft of smoke slipping from his lips. The stream of white and gray vapor slowly traversed the five-foot gap between the two proud crime fighters until it crashed against Batman's black-and-blue body armory before finally dissipating within the force of the late winter wind.

"Ah damn, and here I was hopin' for a lively conversation," the pudgy police man said with a snarl as Gordon pushed past him, the commissioner obviously quite experienced with smoothing the friction between two of his oldest comrades.

"What do you know about Calvin Besser?" Batman growled out, the remnants of the sneer he fired at Bullock just finishing its standard rounds.

Gordon stood tall at the question, the sharp fellow finding himself somewhat surprised by the opening query. "No more than you already know, I imagine," he replied while tilting his eyes above his spectacles in order to take a more honest look at his old friend's stern features. "Grew up in the West Gotham slums, bit of history in and out of juvie halls and prison cells. Of course, he apparently got into a bit of money and now there's rumors that he's got a good chunk of the power among the mob base in Gotham." The longtime public defender of Gotham easily weathered the grimace from the dark knight and the snort from his irritated understudy and continued on. "We've been trying to bring him in for months to answer a few questions but, as we talked about, he's got no criminal record and everything we might have to throw at him is not enough to make anything stick."

"Yeah, and there's rumors that some of his boys may have had something to do with that Anarky punk getting sloppier than he already was," Bullock threw in, his usual impatience for his boss's masked buddy not enough to keep him from discussing the case at hand. "Word on both sides of Gotham says that he's got about 300 soldiers and such all around different parts of the city. He has some of his finance guys pick up some foreclosed properties, sets up a shop for a couple weeks and then they take off just before we can get to 'em."

"What about his lieutenants?"

Gordon found himself caught off guard yet again in response to his old friend's straightforward approach, his catch of Bullock's upraised eyebrows from the corner of his left eye only adding to the confusion. It wasn't unusual to hear such tones, mind you, but the thin hint of petulance was a bit of a recent addition to the mix.

"Is this about the Chicano you asked us to bring in? Rojelio? Batman, I'm telling you that there's nothing to get. He's got no outstanding warrants, nothing on his criminal record and the only thing we found on him when we picked him up was a .45 and the permit that came with it."

"Well, then you weren't having your detectives looking in the right places!" Batman seethed back, his usual attempts to quell his emotions while in the presence of the police commissioner seemingly abandoned. "Jim, I'm telling you that something is suspicious. . ."

"Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah. Wait. Hold on a second here," interposed Bullock, the big man's vocal interruption giving Gordon some necessary time to think things over. "Aw, geez, Bats. Don't tell me that the shit my contact with the bangers on Grove Street gave me is actually true?!"

"What are you going on about, Bullock?" Gordon asked hastily, the malicious glint searing through Batman's cowl adding a sense of urgency to his words. Unfortunately, his caution did not extend over to either of his comrades and the shit-eating grin plastered over Bullock's face reported back that message loud and clear.

"Oh, ho, ho. So the little brat's been shackin' up on the wrong side of the tracks!" Bullock's guess started off as a disbelieving whisper and quickly escalated into a smarmy roar as Batman's grimace confirmed the detective's suspicions. "Oh, this is just too good! The Chick Wonder's getting her pipes cleaned by some beaner street punk. BWAHAHAHA_URGH!"_

"SHUT UP!" Batman roared after sweeping forward and grabbing the swarthy officer of the law by the lapels of his aged coat. "You shut the hell up!"

"All right! That's enough from the both of you!" Gordon forcefully interceded once the old man was able to catch up with the dangerous scene. Knowing the risks and accepting the possible penalties, he thrust his hands between the two forced comrades in an attempt to separate them but quickly found his efforts were for naught. Both the physical grip and the anger that came with it remained firm for a few seconds more before Bullock summoned his own impressive upper body strength to break free of the vigilante's grip.

"Hey! Don't you be tryin' to take all your frustrations out on me, Papa Bat!" Bullock warned the oncoming vigilante while taking a surprisingly leisurely puff from his stogie. "I mean, it ain't like the sprout can't take care of 'erself."

"This isn't about Robin's safety!" Batman insisted through firmly gnashed teeth. "This is about what is happening in the city that we swore to protect! I did not spend the last three years of my life helping to restructure the city's containment facilities and keep these maniacs where they should be to have Gotham taken over again by the street hoods!"

"Yeah? Well, then maybe you should just take a moment to stop and think about who you're talkin' to here!" Bullock fired back despite his supervisor's silent request to avoid rising to the bait. "It ain't like you're the only one responsible for all dis! Now we might not have a bunch of pretty dresses and zillion-dollar gadgets to help us out but we're on the streets, 55 hours a week, just like you! And, since you're apparently so quick to get all scrunched up about how the little blonde squirt has been spendin' her nights, at least she don't have a convicted felon warmin' her bed side. . ."

"SHUT UP, BULLOCK!" Gordon sternly ordered while wisely sliding into Batman's path, the vigilante quite obviously intent on extracting some kind of revenge on the formerly corrupt cop. It was fortunate that the last several decades of handling these kinds of crises on a regular basis had imbued the old warhorse with the wisdom of allowing a few still seconds to pass, the span of time enough for a great deal of the anger to simmer away from Batman's countenance and also allow a hint of ash to escape the edge of Bullock's cigar. "I'll have someone send all the information we've got about Besser's suspected activities to the police file in Kuttler's database. But I need you to remember that busting in an operation like this is just a temporary solution. We don't have enough evidence to keep these guys from getting back onto the streets as soon as they make bail and any attempts to put them back in are just going to lead to that many more innocent people being caught in the crossfire.

The commissioner had clearly picked his words wisely, his sagacious argument generating a curt nod from his shrouded ally. The shaky serenity continued to hang as Batman made his way to the edge of the roof, the quick _PAFT! _of his zip-line sounding strident in the silence of the early morning hours.

"Well, turns out that was pretty entertaining' after all," Bullock mused only moments after the leader of The Misfits' had swung away.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Harvey?" Gordon asked softly while shaking his weathered head back and forth in mild dismay.

"Aw, come off it, Commish," Bullock casually replied while making certain to shift his eyes away to avoid much of the disappointment his longtime boss had sent his way. "Ain't like this is the first time I've had to work with a goody-too-shoes cop with issues about who his daughter is hanging' out with."

Now it was Gordon's turn to draw a hostile glare on the frequently confrontational police lieutenant, the near decade of memories starring a young man in green short-pants causing his brow to furrow. To his credit though, Bullock was kind enough to ignore the silent threat and casually open the door and allow Gordon to make his way out of the cold.

* * *

_Abandoned lot 30 miles outside of Gotham City_

"Well, I have to admit that you pretty much solve a lot of my lingering questions," Zatanna said while firing a saucy smirk at her target, the upraised eyebrows she received in return spurring the 38-year-old to continue. "When I took a peek at the wards around Bruce's place I figured that nobody in the Corps could put protections like that up on their own."

"It was a pretty slowly-paced enterprise," Lloyd confessed while giving a quick bow to Bruce's oldest friend as she allowed him to pass through the doorway she had opened with a bit of a forceful jerk backward. His eyes were quick to adjust to the surrounding darkness despite the distraction provided by the pulsing eldritch and supernatural energies now circling around him. The limitations of his hazel eyes wouldn't allow him to see the faint signatures but he could feel the power responding to his presence. Some were so clamorous that he had to block them from becoming a part of his reservoir while others seemed to slink or scream away from his very presence.

Come here. Go away. Who are you? What are you? All the unspoken words were broadcast in an indecipherable jumble and it took The Black Dog a moment or two before he could shake his senses free. "Why didn't ya. . . didn't ya dig into it a little deeper?"

Zatanna replied to the sincere question with a quick but sure shrug of her shoulders. "I didn't sense anything hateful or malicious so I just decided to wait on it," she simply replied whilst coasting from one corner of the small chamber to another, her small hands pulling back curtains and drapes and other veils and coverings both physical and otherwise. "The signature of a greater demon was a bit of a worry but it didn't take much to see that whoever was responsible wanted to keep the house safe," she concluded while making her way to the center of the room where a large stone basin stood, the rim of the bowl just inches above the top of the Justice Leaguer's shapely waist. "Or maybe I should say that they wanted to keep the people inside safe?"

Lloyd was starting to strongly dislike that bright smile that the mystic could seem to summon so quickly, if only because it could make him feel like a shuffling 13-year-old boy with his eyes seemingly glued to the floor. "Well, it's worked well so far," he said distantly while his eyes focused on the sigils and symbols carved within the pedestal that supported the broad basin.

"No. Seriously. I mean, I had a whole bunch of questions that were really hurting for answers," Zatanna added with a tone that was a bit more gentle, a move she had perfected after nearly three decades of interacting with broody, insecure orphans. "The summoning of The Spectre during all that stuff with Sinestro, the Scarab of The Blue Beetle being used to discover Bruce's big satellite in the sky, and even that weird energy signature from The North Pole right when all those bad guys tried to trash Gotham. That was a Denadoro fusion chant, right?" She quickly took Lloyd's silence as a yes before offering a nod of respect. "And all of that came from just one, solitary person."

"Yeah, I suppose so," The Black Dog answered while continuing to take what appeared to be an absurd amount of interest in the stone floor. He struggled to be the least bit social as the witch strode through the confined chamber, her limber arms reaching into cabinets and shelves and fetching some of the contents inside. It wasn't long before she had her hands on a good number of sickly looking concoctions along with a leather pouch containing a weighty but familiar smelling substance.

_Kiriana powder_, Lloyd quickly deduced, the scent of the hallucinogen already threatening to blur his sights and go for a dip within the rest of his senses. _Not the way I would've done it but. . . _"So. . . so this is where we're gonna do the deed?" The Black Dog could feel his cheeks burn red with embarrassment, the wave of relaxation brought about by the supernatural energy still not enough to soothe him. "I mean. . . the spell an'. . . going to hell an'. . .and I've got a girlfriend and I really love her and I can't. . ."

"Relax, tough guy," Zatanna said soothingly while placing a soft grip on Lloyd's right shoulder while trying hard not to erupt with laughter. "Not here to rob you of whatever virtue you may have left. I'm just getting our bodies in the right frame so we can do this properly."

"Oh, yeah," stammered what could very well have been the strongest warrior walking the planet Earth, the half-demon champion once again choosing to pay an undue amount of notice to the mild collection of dust balls at his feet. "I'm sorry. I'm usually a lot more dignified than this. . ."

"Well, now you've got a chance to prove that," Zatanna replied, her slim hands busy uncorking the potions stacked on the left side of the black stone basin. Lloyd allowed some time to restore himself as he observed the liquid within the cauldron simmer and shift with every addition. First it was a dull, rust colored solution before it shifted to a noxious shade of yellow before the addition of the final compound transformed the basin's contents into a maroon-red substance that seemed to have trouble deciding whether it wished to start becoming a solid or stay within its liquid form. The backwash from the struggle produced a thick vapor that seemed to exacerbate the smell of the kiriana Zatanna had just tossed into the air, the magic within the room intensifying and gathering itself while being simultaneously refused to go anywhere save where he and his colleague willed for it to go. Feeling the need to compensate, Lloyd stretched out the energy he could gather from The Condemner and took control of the spell, his well-crafted work drawing an amused smile onto the face of The Justice League's resident conjurer.

"Before we start," Zatanna began while extending her arms forward. "I can't help but point out that I'm sensing some remnants of a very familiar energy signature that doesn't look like it wants to let you go." She raised her eyebrows while allowing some time for Lloyd to mull over the options. "Kind of hard to believe that I didn't pick it up until now, especially since Superman was so insistent that I keep an eye out for it."

The Black Dog countered by cracking open his left eye while keeping his right eye shut, a common reaction whenever he was interrupted from his meditation by the source of the eldritch signature that Zatanna had apparently been so interested in. "We magicians draw strength from others," he said simply and with far more confidence than he had before. "'S only right I keep my power close to me and away from pryin' eyes."

"You know that Kent is going to kill you." There was a distinct twinkle in Zatanna's eyes as she clasped hands with Lloyd, the incantation that would take them to where the needed to be already hovering on the tip of her tongue.

Lloyd presented his own smile in return. "Another bridge to cross, Zanna. Another bridge to cross."

* * *

_Saizeru Monastery – Laundry Room_

Caleb let out a pained grunt that didn't have the least bit to do with physical discomfort as he pushed the heavy wooden door open with his free hand, his right arm still firmly wrapped around the squirming form of one Lian Harper, juvenile troublemaker extraordinaire. Resisting the urge to sling the copper-skinned youth into the nearest empty hamper, the Alabama-born preacher, he took a moment to swing the door shut and hear the clasp of the lock before placing down his obnoxious charge with as much as restraint as The Good Lord would allow him.

"All right, so I'm just gonna assume that you weren't listenin' when we went over this the first five times," the black-garbed holy man began while clapping his thick hands together. "You have any inclination about what I said about stealin' from guests or your fellow students?"

The fact that Lian responded with an overdramatic, sideways head tilt that was quickly followed by some highly practiced scratching of that spot of skin between her hair and her right ear was a good clue that his youthful opponent was still in the mood for some confrontation. Recognizing this, Caleb marshaled his slowly depleting reserves of patience and started again.

"Well, then let's just go with something simpler. How about. . . Thou shalt not lie. . . Thou shalt not steal. . ."

"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's manservant?" Lian provided with a chirp.

"Well, not really what I was lookin' for but I suppose I should be proud you're payin' some bit of attention." Caleb compromised while making certain to stay between Lian and the door. "And, since we're on a roll, do you remember what I said you could do with those little smartass little lines you like to throw about when we know you've done wrong?"

"To jam them up my ass?"

Now it was the priest's turn to twist his head to one side while pondering about what his next move should be. After a bit of deliberation, the preacher simply shrugged his shoulders while slowly crossing his deceptively burly arms across his chest. "Well, I suppose it lost a bit in the translation but that will suffice," he answered as he took a seat on a nearby washing machine that was currently tumbling with a variety of children's school uniforms. "Still, don't think that won't get you out of your usual duties. I wanna see all these shirts, pants, and dresses all clean and neatly folded before you return to whatever sordid duties you have in your diseased mind."

Lian brought the best scowl she could to the table but even that was not enough to dissuade her stern opponent and it wasn't long before she was at her work. Minutes passed as her still stubby fingers separated pant leggings and collars before working the dozens of freshly dried bits of clothing into fairly organized piles. She did her best not to be too irritated by the supposedly divine patience that seemed to float through the holy man's eyes but was still finding herself dreaming up of ways to exact revenge upon her tormentor despite the fact that he was bigger, older, stronger (but not smarter, she insisted to herself).

"Ah, how wonderful it is to see one of God's children learn the values of humility," Caleb mused while beginning a leisurely stroll from one end of the laundry room to the other. "And, of course, should this attempt not yield it's the fruits we hope to receive, there is always room to try it again. . . and again and again, if need be."

Lian grouchily picked up a pile of boys' shirts into her stubby arms and began to carry them over to the table next to where Caleb stood. "I thought. . . that religious people were supposed to be nice," she lightly growled while unnecessarily plopping the folded articles of clothing against the hardwood bench.

"Well, I do seem to recall my being a fairly kindly fella once upon a time," Caleb replied while kindly pointing Lian over to the southwestern corner of the room where her next pile of duties stood waiting for her. "However, the Lord decided that I would be tested with teaching wicked little children like you and now I have wandered down a murky path."

Roy's daughter growled as loudly as she could as she moved to examine the rather extensive pile that someone had haphazardly laid in the corner. Still too caught up in her plans to exact revenge upon the snidely smiling preacher, her eyes managed to miss the dabbles of red that didn't mix in with the relatively drab clothes in the slightest. Grabbing a handful of shirts and pants in both arms, her slight tug gave way to what was holding the pile steady and allowed a badly mutilated corpse to mercifully fall to the floor, her quick feet the only thing keeping the body from landing on Lian. She could only dimly recognize the man from what unmarred remains of his neck and hair, the familiar pale skin of Brother Malcolm, the monastery's choir organizer clashing horribly with the cuts and burns that marked his once handsome features.

Lian's scream was ready to be let loose but she soon found her lungs being pressed upon as Caleb gathered her closely, the brown-haired disciplinarian hastily turning his young charge away from the grisly sight. The preacher wasted no time, the only noise coming from him being shushed whispers and strong footsteps as he carried the girl away from the madness.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – The Batcave_

"Now I have attempted to understand and sympathize for your complete lack of understanding of the social graces and obligations that must be maintained within a situation such as this," The Calculator continued with as much of a placating candor he could muster in his current frame of mind. "However, the sheer discourtesy presented by your actions have forced me to tell you openly that what you have done is not only disruptive to the overall functioning ability of our operation but also a direct insult to me! I did not spend five grueling years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to have my exceptional doings be disrupted by someone who refuses to acknowledge the significance of what we are attempting to accomplish!"

The recipient of the hacker's loquacious argument first responded by making a quick check of her fingernails, the jade-green eyes paying particular detail for any possible damage done recently to the well-manicured nails. "I would like to ask that you cease trying to bury me under 10 dollar words if you really want to have it out with me, sweetie." Selina Kyle purred upon finishing her cuticle inspection. "Maybe no one ever told you this at your precious M.I.T. but one could take your overly verbose arguments and your constant crowing over your alma mater and start to think that you're just a haughty snob who thinks he's too important for everybody else."

Nearly six months of confrontations such as these allowed The Calculator to respond to the slow grin on Catwoman's face in a far more conservative manner than he would before. "Well, I'm certain that you will occasionally take the opportunity to speak well of your schooling, "he said while straightening himself to his fullest height and casually picking his spectacles off of his nose. "Once it's accredited, of course." he added as he smartly took handkerchief to glass.

"Look, I didn't come here to play in the emotional kiddie pen, Riddler Lite," Selina countered while resisting the urge to hiss out her words. "I'm here to. . ."

"Oh, I believe we all know why you're here," Kuttler broke in, a crawling smirk rising onto his thin lips. "Gotham's most rampant faux feline has been denied her customary scratching posts and hopes to let out her voracious desires on her favorite victim." The Misfits' resident hacker took up a great deal of pride as Catwoman narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I suppose that we can take heart that you will not try to kill him this time."

"Enough with your miserly little pokes, you sad little man," Selina hissed back, the redeemed cat burglar looking almost as if she were about to rear up on her haunches as she bent her knees slightly. "Just get it out in the open, admit that you'd rather be the one in bed with Brucie, and go back and stew in front of your computer screen."

The Calculator's jaw stood agape like a surprisingly well-tailored fish. "I. . . BEG. . . YOUR. . . PARDON!!" he all but screamed, his scarecrow-like frame quivering with anger. "How _dare _you insinuate such a sordid and absurd notion."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Selina replied with a drawling but lively defiance, the polished nail at the crest of her right finger delicately scratching down her dimpled chin.

"Why is it that so many of the arguments around here inevitably end up with someone accusing somebody of being gay?"

The two spirited debaters both turned as one to stare upon the source of the interruption. To Cecilia's credit, however, she refused to take too much into their anger and simply shrugged her shoulders. "Just an observation," she threw in only moments before the spotlight would have been taken off of her, the additional words earning her another sliver of consideration until she finally stretched her palms outward. "Fine, fine. I don't even want to be a part of this. I just want to finish my post-op stuff, shower away the repulsion of having a dozen college-age gangsters trying to stare at my butt while I was restraining them, and get to bed before my boss can drag me off again on some more. . . crap."

The decidedly resigned air within the last whisper of Arrowette's intentions were easily dwarfed by a familiar roar as The Batmobile rumbled through the underground garage and into the cavern proper. Foregoing the vehicle's usual parking spot, the driver sped the vehicle forward before coming to an unnecessarily screeching stop only ten feet away from where Noah and Selina stood still as stone, the both of them waiting for whatever was coming. Cecilia, on the other hand, briefly wondered if it was possible to wedge herself between the two file cabinets underneath her computer and somehow manage to finish the last paragraph of her post-op file while snaking her hand through the small gap and typing one key at a time before wisely deciding to just try and hurry up and get out. The stern glare that marked Batman's face as he slid out of the vehicle and stomped his way to the central terminal made her feel a bit better but she still made certain to get a good hold of the scrunchie that had once held her shoulder-length hair into a tight ponytail and stuffing it into her pocket.

Because if it was anything that Batman taught her was that she should take care of potential distractions as soon as it was possible to do so.

Noah and Selina, however, found themselves momentarily stymied as Batman walked by them without a word, the veiled vigilante quickly bringing his fatigued hands to the nearby keyboard in order to dive into his friend's extensive information database.

"Good. They sent the information," Batman growled out as Noah and Selina shared a look, the both of them quite aware of The Dark Knight's diligence to his work but still a bit surprised to see it happening so close to what was supposed to be a successful evening.

"Well, and a hardy hello to you too, lover," Selina said with a slight frown, the words little more than bait for the detective's anger. "Don't want to be up too late if you want to meet me at Chez Henri this afternoon."

Perhaps the sharp swinging open of the top drawer of a nearby file cabinet would normally not be considered an appropriate response but it seemed to suit Bruce Wayne's purpose, his gauntlet-covered hand quickly diving into the large helping of files aside before plucking a well-worn file from the stack. There was no wasted motion as he finally took the seat adjacent to his stolen workstation, the man's attention quickly shifting between the images on the computer screen and the physical information in his hands. Within seconds he was rearranging papers, keeping some and dismissing others when the new information was enough to contradict the old, while his girlfriend and his best friend each searched for something to say to whatever this happened to be. He seemed to ignore everything that was going on around him save for what he chose to put his eyes upon. . . at least until his ears picked up the slightest scraping sound of boots cautiously stepping on and off the limestone stairwell leading to the manor.

"We're going back out, Arrowette," The Batman sternly grumbled, his back still turned to the understudy that had tried and failed to make her getaway. "You know more about this case than I do and I may need your expertise."

Cecilia was wise enough to screw up her face in frustration and whisper out her desired supply of profanity before turning towards Gotham's dark defender with a sympathetic smile. "Come on, boss. We've both already had a long night," she reasoned while lowering her hands much in the way a mother would calm down their child when they wanted to do something patently foolish. "Maybe it'd be better if we just waited until this evening? I mean, the sun's already up."

Batman responded to the solid reasoning with an expectant glare. "I know for a fact that you have no pressing matters on your agenda for the afternoon, Arrowette."

"Really? And here I thought getting a decent night's sleep seemed rather vital." Cecilia grumbled, her pretenses to remain calm quickly abandoned. "Oh, all right. I'll go. . . if only to keep you from doing something monumentally stupid."

"Thank you for your concern," Batman quickly answered back while sweeping his way back to the driver's side of The Batmobile. Still, for all his determination, he was kind enough to offer a slight smile to his understudy as she began her mopey stalking toward her seat, the showing of compassion enough to convince the fair-haired archer to put a bit of a spring in her step as she climbed inside the vehicle and prepared to make their way to a begrudgingly familiar place.

Meanwhile, Noah and Selina were left to stand and sulk. Or sit and sulk depending upon their respective dispositions.

* * *

"Well, what are we thinking here?"

The Black Dog soon found that he had both too much and not enough of the information that Zatanna was apparently looking for as his eyes and thoughts did their best to pierce through the tapestry of energy patterns that served as the bridge between Earth and this one hell dimension in particular. The murky ambitions of vile, damned souls continued to try their hardest to pierce his apparently appealing shell in the hopes of controlling what was inside him but such a risk was a frequent occurrence in many of the other gateways and nexuses that the witch had driven them to. The flow of energy from one part of the dimensional bridge to the other, however, was quite unexpected and phenomenally unwanted and the half-demon found himself hard pressed to provide a proper guess as to the cause. Still, as fruitless as it was, he could only continue to look on the empty space, the unnatural forces glowing nearly every color in the spectrum as it swirled around him without any true direction or pattern. The lack of control was quick to annoy him but the similar consternation posted over the countenance of his partner allowed him to set his mind somewhat at ease and that, in turn, allowed Zatanna to do the same.

"Well, it's pretty bloody obvious that we've found somethin' dangerous," Lloyd unnecessarily pointed out, the several hours spent traveling with Bruce's old friend removing much of the nervousness he had initially felt. "Not to mention that the list of entities that could pull something like this off from the demon side of this are pretty bloody short."

Zatanna pursed her lips as she continued to gaze into the void. "Yeah. Too bad the number of people that can do something like this from the outside is a little bit higher."

Lloyd firmly shook his head to and fro. "Somebody would have caught that. If not you or me then somebody else. An' if what this Markov lady said is true, if Neron's child or whatever is supposed to be the cause of whatever this is, then maybe it's not being done willingly."

"You mean something slow like some kind of pact that sends a trigger to weaken the dimensional bridges until a such a time when they can drive a hole right into it." The follow-up conclusion was a wise one but the fact that she had come up with it didn't please Zatanna in the least. "Geez. Do you know how many people have made pacts with Neron? I mean, this bastard's had millennia to work on things like this! For all we know he could be doing this through somebody who sold their soul to get a better short game!"

"Mmmm, not likely," Lloyd grumbled while wrapping the fingers of his right hand across his chin. "Although the whole discovery of 11 mistresses thing would certainly fall under the category of karmic reimbursement."

Ever a performer who could enjoy the relief brought about by an unnecessary joke, Zatanna let out an unladylike snort in response. "Well, all wackiness aside, this eldritch link could definitely be the source of a lot of problems. I mean, I haven't felt something this nasty since my last trip to Philadelphia."

Lloyd turned to Zatanna with an intrigued look in his hazel eyes. "Had a run in with some kind of greater demon?"

"No, just another asshole Philly crowd," the witch replied with an almost carefree shrug of her shoulders, the blithe reply forcing Lloyd to offer an involuntary chuckle in return. "Y'know kiddo, I've got to admit that I didn't picture you as somebody who could handle a spell like this so well. Since, hey, demons and astral projection usually don't make for a good mix."

Lloyd smirked as he held up his left ring and middle finger and passing the ethereal digits through the immaterial reflection of his human soul. "Had plenty of training on stuff like this from Mister Mao," he explained calmly. "Personally, I think you're the one with the higher achievement here. After all, 's quite a step up from parlor tricks like backward mantrac curses. . ."

"Okay now! No dogging on the Zatara style when your body's underneath my roof, buster!" the elder of the two conjurers snapped back, the astral avatar of Zatanna looking quite peeved as her gloved hands settled upon her fishnet-clad legs. "Especially from somebody who looks like they wandered away from a Power Rangers fan convention."

The Black Dog cringed in the face of Zatanna's playful smile as he took in the attire chosen by his own subconscious, an immaterial set of a chest plate and leggings that looked disturbingly similar to the armor Batson had created for him to use on their trip to Apokolips. "Bloody buggerin' hell. An' whose spare enough to dog someone for their get-up when they're in a top hat and fishnets?"

"Hey! These are my work clothes, Gold Ranger!" Zatanna replied with her usual showy air. "Astral projection is all about being calm and finding what makes you feel most comfortable."

"And you love the stage," Lloyd said with a hint of envy in his tone, the wry smile Zatanna supplied as an answer endearing the witch to him just a little bit more. "Well, whatever helps you relax, Glinda. After all, the last thing we need is some kind of distraction that can break our concentration and rip us from the enchantment. Hell, the last time that happened I almost ended up. . ."

_**BA-DA-DA! BA-DA-DA! BA-DA-DA-DA-DA**_

* * *

_Zatara Manor_

"AHHH!"

"WOAH!"

Lloyd and Zatanna struggled to regain themselves after being ripped back into their physical bodies, the psychic backlash forced upon them by the unwilling voyage causing the former's temples to throb and the latter to teeter back and forth as she struggled to stay conscious. Meanwhile, still trilling away in The Black Dog's pants pocket, his cellular phone continued its lackluster performance of the Sky World Theme from _Super Mario Bros. 3_, a tune that Kara insisted was perfect for him but now made him feel like ripping the heads off of particularly cute puppies.

Puppies that somehow managed to get a hold of red-and-yellow spandex if Lloyd had guessed correctly. Of course, it only took a second for The Black Dog to use his telekinesis to carry the receiver into his left palm and less than that to check his caller ID and that was all that was needed to confirm his suspicions. "Oh for bloody sakes. . ." Lloyd grumbled while yanking open the phone and pressing the SEND button. "WOT!"

"Don't 'WOT' me! You're the one who shut off your communicator!" Wally spat back, The Fastest Man Alive clearly in too much of a bad mood to sympathize with his friend's irritation. "I had to annoy the hell out of C.C. just so he would give me your new number."

"Oh really now?" Lloyd asked with an unrestrained sneer, the fact that there was no way his carrot-topped comrade could see the gesture meaning fairly little to him at the present time. "So Answer Man wanted to keep you from getting in touch with me? Gee, one would almost think that somebody who would ask somebody's messenger to do something like that would drive one to think that _the first somebody didn't want to be disturbed!!"_

"Aaaaaand I think I'll go get some tea," Zatanna resolved while making her way out of the room with slow, careful steps, the witch fairly confident but not fully secure that she wouldn't trip or fall on her trip to the kitchen. She could only here snippets of the conversation, the talk apparently having something to do with Wally thinking that Lloyd had misplaced some important papers or what have you and she wasn't about to be ready to get into something like that without something to soothe her nerves.

_And it's not the near splinching that's doing this either_, the Justice Leaguer couldn't help but think as Lloyd and Wally continued to bicker. _Whatever we saw isn't something that we're going to be able to figure out on our own._

"Niatrs eht ehtoos._" _

The whisper was slight and nearly mumbled but the simple healing charm was enough to give Zatanna a bit of peace of mind as she reached the top of the long stairwell and continued her trek to the kitchen. _We're going to need an expert_, she recognized, her thoughts broadcast strong and true with the firm suspicion that her telepathic comrade was listening in. _Somebody with a lot more personal history handling demonic activity than either of us have to offer._

"_Any ideas?" _Lloyd asked, the proof of her hypothesis prompting Zatanna to smile and think some happy thoughts in return.

"_Got him on speed dial, partner."_

* * *

_Gotham City – 2782 Grove Street_

"Hrrrrrrrrrn."

Batman clenched his teeth once again as he brought The Batmobile to a stop in front of his intended destination. Still, he managed to work his way through his frustration and gave a quick, silent thanks to Lucius and his team for the recent engine work. Though it was quite uncommon for him not to spot a potential problem with the fuel intake or any of the other related functions of the six-stroke, internal combustion jet engine that had been installed in the last three edition of his trademark vehicle the fact remained that his longtime engineering expert had once again gone above and beyond the call of duty. There was not a trace of a stutter or a hiccup as the cylinders slid to a stop and the power intake to the mighty vehicle was cut off without a problem.

"Hrrrrrrrrn."

He had to confess that the scene awaiting him was something that he wouldn't expect from the man who had quickly come to be known as the dominant player in Gotham's gang-related crime. There was no sweeping, post-modernistic penthouse apartment as favored by Rupert Thorne or Victorian-style manor where he would easily sneak in and give a painful greeting to men like Roland Daggett, Roman Sionis, or Oswald Cobblepot. Instead there was a simple, two-story house that had been built and copied endlessly throughout the nation in the years after World War II, simple domiciles meant to house young, growing families designed to spend their lives building upon the economic fruits gained by America after its rewards reaped from a pair of world wars. This one had grown slightly decayed by the ravages of time and lack of upkeep, like so many of the uncomplicated domiciles that had come to be part of the Westside ghettos of his beloved city but the place held its own kind of intimidation that couldn't be found in a metropolitan high-rise or gloomy mansion.

"Hrrrrrrrrrn."

This was not trying to hide its secrets within an aesthetically pleasing veil. It taunted him with its frankness, daring him to step inside to see the wickedness that had been laid bare on its cracking walls and frayed carpets.

"Hrrrrrrrrrn."

"WAKE UP!"

"AH! NOT MORE PRACTICE!!" Arrowette screamed while swinging forward in her seat, the sharp sound of her boss's voice nearly causing her to involuntarily slam her head against the dashboard. Of course, it didn't take long at all for the young sharpshooter to regain her mental faculties and thusly endure the disapproving stare that Batman had to give her. "Murglemurfle," she then said astutely while rubbing the remains of a blessed sleep out of her eyes. "I used to get seven hours of sleep a day before I met you. You know, like a normal person?"

"Are you prepared for this or not?" asked Batman, the slivers of patience he usually held when addressing his patrol partner now long fallen past the wayside.

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose," Cecilia replied, the 19-year-old having been smart enough to strap her quiver to her back before she took her cat nap (_and, wow, wasn't that a phenomenally bad choice of putting that_, she couldn't help but think). "Look, I know you're beyond the point of listening to reason but I still say that we come at this with a little more subtlety."

"I've spent 25 years mastering the arts of stealth and subterfuge from nearly a half-dozen disciplines, Arrowette," Wayne growled back. "What makes you think there is anything you can teach to me about subtlety?"

"Well, I'm sorry but I don't usually connect ninjas and Henry Clay with riding in on a big, roaring machomobile and coming in armed with bladed weapons and explosives," Cecilia logically countered, the response earning her a considerably-dangerous Batglare that finally removed any more vocal resistance from her just as her boss opened the car's hatch. The former Young Justice member was quick to clamber outside, quite eager to either get in front of or at least catch up to her determined associate as he strode forward with frightening determination. The heels of her reddish-brown boots struck the cracked stone pavement just as the shuffling of other shoes informed her of the hoods that were there to greet them as she and Batman approached the modest, wooden gate that served as the border of the property. She counted five in plain sight and God alone knows how many waiting in the shadows but Batman continued on without the slightest trace of a misstep, the vigilante practically daring anyone else to make a move.

And one of them did. It could have been a surprise that it was the shortest and least physically imposing of the lot but the bald swagger in the man's features was quick to make up for it. Sporting a green hoodie and black blue jeans, both of which were far too big to properly fit his muscular frame, he stubbed out his joint on the bottom stone step that led into the house he was apparently designed to guard. The low moonlight did little to brighten his brown skin but it was enough to catch the barrel of the customized .45 ACP that he slowly removed from his waistband before pointing it straight at Batman's face.

"Yo, blondie. You better slow yo man's step here," he coarsely warned Cecilia as the other street soldiers behind him stood up as well, the lot of them a bit more reserved about what to do. "Now I know we said that you and the rest of the kids was cool 'round here but this one ain't wanted without an appointment."

The unwavering stance the thug offered to Batman prompted the detective to come to a stop, his long strides eventually leading him a mere five-feet away from his potential assailant. "Get out of my way," he snarled, the vigilante clearly tired of enduring anything else that could get in his way, his sharp mind already thinking of a dozen ways to disarm and incapacitate both the guntoter and the others waiting for him to make a move.

"Hell naw, Batbitch," the thug spat back, his front grip shaking only slightly in the face of Batman's intimidation. "You a long way from downtown, big man. Why don't you go back and put some mo' of our brothers and sisters behind bars and let your kids handle the real shit."

"Man! Shut your damn mouth, _Sherman_," Cecilia snapped back in Batman's stead, her sharp tone and the blatant name drop causing the thugs behind their leader to snigger while the aforementioned "Sherman" twisted his face up in anger. "We're just here to talk!"

"Damn it, bitch! I told you my name was Sweet! _Sweet_!" the gun-toting thug said in a candor that was caught between unforgiving and huffy, the bad mixture doing little to help whatever intimidation he wanted to bring to the table. "And the fact remains that he ain't getting in here. . . at least not unless he wants to spill a bit more blood out on this street corner."

"All right. That's enough. Get your hands off your holsters right now, ya'll," ordered a deeper voice that rose from just inside the doorway. It was an authoritative bass that wasn't a bit like Batman's gravel-like grumblings but the tone was still clearly something that could draw fear and attention from anyone, just as the owner of the voice intended. His attention gathered, the overseer of the bulk of the organized crime in Gotham City stepped onto the porch of his childhood home in order to address the bizarre and potentially dangerous scene. He was stout but sure of his step, his 5'8", 250-pound frame comfortably bound within a modest attire of a button-down fleece shirt and clean blue jeans, clothing that could have been found at dozens of stores in Gotham City and countless more around the world. He wore half-rim glasses in front of his eyes, the black trim of the bifocals only several shades darker than his copper-brown skin, but he slid them off as he stared down The Batman without a trace of fear or intimidation.

"Let him come up, Sweet. The two of us are long overdue for a little talk," the big man once again spoke softly and smoothly and it was enough for nearly everyone to follow what he had to say. "Feel free to hang around if you want, archer. I'm guessing you know where everything's at."

"Sure thing, big man," Arrowette replied with a slight salute, the young markswoman eager to be rid of the stressful situation after such a long night. The four men around the staircase cleared way as well, the hardened fighters not making the slightest effort to keep Batman from his prize.

"YO! Don't you think this is over, Batbitch!" Sweet yelled to Batman's back. "You gonna cause trouble and you'll have me comin' after yo ass!"

"Man, shut the hell up, Sherman," the boss retorted, his deep timbre forcing his agitated lieutenant to let out another immature scowl. He allowed the rest of his boys to calm Sweet down as he watched this man, this monster, make his way towards him with slow, determined movements. The halogen light above his head caught a hint of the blades along The Dark Knight's gauntlets and the pudgy crime lord pursed his lips but it wasn't enough to keep him from extending his hand as soon as Batman had come close.

"Calvin Besser," he said in greeting, his right arm unwavering as he waited for the crime fighter to return the gesture. Of course, it didn't surprise him in the least that Batman ignored him while sweeping his way inside, the refusal bringing a slight smile to Besser's face as he moved to shut the door. "All right. So it's just business then," he concluded as the old lock clicked shut, his sharp mind quickly reminding him of where he had set his cup of coffee before addressing his somewhat expected visitors. "Then you can just go ahead and call me Big Smoke, my friend," he continued with a deep warble. "Unless, of course, you don't mind me calling you Bruce Wayne."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

DUN-DUN-DAAAAAAAAAA!

Okay, admittedly that's a cheap cliffhanger to end it on but, damn it, I deserve a bit of dramatic device usage. I mean, this thing is now officially over 700,000 words long (825,000 if you throw in all the add-ins and side stories) and I like to think that I've come up with my fair share of original ideas in the past three-and-a-half years. Oh, not to mention that I'm still recovering from whatever the hell is happening in _Buffy: Season Eight _which includes a flying Buffy Summers and Xander and Dawn now apparently madly in love with each other. Of course, given the average age differences in her big sister's relationships, I suppose it's only fair that the 18-year-old Dawn can go ahead and date a 25-year-old Xander. Just like Buffy can just go ahead and randomly sleep with a girl.

Yeaaaah. . .

Exactly why did I ever get into comics again?

* * *

_Issue #93 Preview_

Well, it's pretty safe to say that the downtime is about to come to a quick and violent end. Blood has been shed in perhaps the safest haven the world has to offer and somebody is bound to be looking for a little justice (or at least attempt to up the violence quotient a little bit more), Batman has forced himself into a head-to-head with the man whose finger is on the pulse of Gotham's crime and Lloyd and Zatanna must consult with a troubling third-party if they want to get info on whatever nastiness Neron has in store for them.

Oh, and didn't somebody order Brother Blood to take a trip to Gotham?

All this and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Conciliatory Connections. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	93. Conciliatory Connections

Issue #93

Conciliatory Connections

_Devon – Ground floor of Saizeru Monastery_

Agnes was hardly foolish enough to believe that patience was something that came easily with her or any other portion of her family line. Of course, this was hardly the most settling revelation that could be made by a former nurse and current caretaker for children of all shapes and breeds but the mother of the one and thankfully only Stephanie Brown found that she could at least take some pride in managing to stay somewhat calm and serene in the face of many of her past and present troubles. She had bullied her way through the consequences of numerous addictions and remained as calm as she could while enduring the slings and arrows of her self-induced misfortune and she could now be confident that she had emerged a stronger and better person because of it. The struggles she had overcome and the labors she would carry ntil the day she died allowed Agnes to be comfortable with knowing that she had earned every bit of love and annoyance and hostility and caring that her daughter would bequeath and nobody could take that away except by her own volition.

"I mean, you've read all the stories, right? She's always getting in his way when he's trying to do fight crime and do good and she's always send him mixed signals galore and she's always just rubbing up on him like some leathered-out skank ho!"

All that said, this was a little much. By which she meant the unvarying stream of complaints and whine-based theories that the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns had thrown her way for nearly three months now. And it wasn't like she was frustrated because The Golden Boy of Gotham City had come to dominate so much of the thoughts of her solitary child (kind of) and it wasn't because she was getting weary of hearing about somebody else's relationship-related exploits when her romantic cupboard had long remained bare (sort of) but the fact remained that being all but forced to bear Stephanie's frustrations with few possibilities of escape or resistance didn't seem like a necessity while collecting her parental karma, as it were.

After all, the little blonde whirlwind fuming in front of her never got this emotional when it came to Arthur.

"Oh, and she _better _not think that I don't see those looks she gives me!" Stephanie ranted, her unfocused stomping taking her several steps in front of her selected audience. "That 'oh, I'm so seductive and impossibly big-boobed and I'm gonna wrap Batman around my little finger' thing she does! Ooooh, I can't stand her thinking that she can. . ."

"You know, I heard from that nice Mister Jordan about how The Green Lantern Corps honored the both of you for your work a couple weeks ago," Agnes threw in with a decidedly matter-of-fact candor. "In fact, he told me that you would have been promoted if you didn't elect to stay in Gotham. . ."

"And Cissie and Lloyd are always telling me not to think too much about her! That I'm reading too much into it or that Batman can handle himself!" Stephanie blazed forward, heedless of the rationality right behind her quickly moving feet. "But what they're forgetting is that Bruce is basically nothing more than an emotional eunuch. _I _know better. . . and, wow, I'm really starting a lot of my sentences with conjunctions. . ."

"I also talked with Doctor Thompkins the other day," Agnes soldiered on while fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. "She said she's really quite grateful for all the volunteer time you put in at her clinic, particularly given your already busy schedule. Of course, she keeps insisting that you would be better off if you just went and took some classes at Gotham U. . ."

"Why the hell am I suddenly doing this? I mean, it's not like I'm incapable of stringing my sentences together. It's something I take pride in, as a matter of fact. . ."

"Well, let's not forget that nice Sinestro man," Agnes continued on while shutting her eyes and shaking her head. "I think I might very well take him up on his proposal. After all, it's not right for you to be without a proper family life."

"At least I'm way smarter than _Litterbox Woman_," Stephanie snarled, the young Robin taking a little too much credit for the lackluster pet name. "Still, that's not going to do a shit nugget of good when it'll be up to me to pull Bruce out of the brood he'll have when that burgling bitch walks off again. I mean, the fuckin' nerve of that. . . hold up. . . who's getting married to The Magic Moustache Man?"

The somewhat harried mother offered a gentle smile to her momentarily stunned daughter as the both of them came to a halt in the middle of a well-lit corridor that bridged the first floor stairwells from the monastery's child-care center. "Sweetie, have you ever considered the possibility that you might be attracted to Bruce Wayne?"

It was as if everything, even the billions of air molecules drifting around and about the mother and daughter, had suddenly gone still. The next three seconds passed thickly as Stephanie's face presented her circulating emotions in a predictably melodramatic manner. Her heart-shaped face started up with recognition, shifted quickly into baffled, clambered hastily towards outraged before finally pulling into a pit stop of revulsion as her nostrils narrowed and the muscles along her forehead seemed to jumble themselves together.

"NO!" Stephanie howled, her tone registering several pitches higher than she ever thought herself capable of. "OH MY GOD, MOM! That's just sick and icky and vile and sick and all sorts of other horrible. . . WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

The desperate need to rein in her own laughter at the anticipated response kept the mother from admonishing her daughter for both her words and the tone they were delivered in. "It was a joke, sweetie. Calm down. Breathe." She calmly instructed while somehow managing to keep a straight face while in the midst of Stephanie's almost comical levels of bewilderment. "All right, so you don't care about him that way. However, it's pretty safe to say that whatever this is has something more than just him being Batman and you being Robin."

Robin closed her lips together in response, if only so it made the nervous gnawing on her lower lip that much easier to accomplish. Shifting her pale-blue eyes away from her annoyingly attentive parent, her childhood memories of ignoring her mother until the older woman either stopped caring or forgot what they were talking allowed her to briefly believe that her old methods of avoidance would work now. The younger woman almost wanted to feel encouraged as she slowly looked up and took in Agnes's patient countenance, take heart in how much her mother had changed for the better, but that good cheer was quickly enveloped by the rather large metaphorical elephant that had been trying to hop on her shoulders for quite some time.

"Well. . . y'know. . . I just don't want to make him feel. . . y'know, like he needs to be something other than what he is. We've all got a whole lot to look after, after all."

Agnes Brown only offered a slight nod.

"Yeah. . ." Stephanie trailed off once again, the ability to summon up her self-proclaimed vaunted vocabulary suddenly coming up woefully short. "It would be nice if he did but. . . why the hell should he? I mean, if I'm not good enough for the friggin' Cluemaster then why would I ever be good enough for Batman?" She allowed herself to be pulled into her mother's soft embrace, her eyes momentarily hidden by her short curtain of blonde hair. She took in the whispered words of support that were offered to her, fought back a sniffle as she felt the tender kiss on her cheek and tried not to look completely miserable when Agnes brushed her stray locks back to their usual place.

"Well, I can't rightly provide an answer for that confusing conundrum. However, there are some questions I would like to ask of ya."

* * *

_Gotham – 2782 Grove Street_

Bruce Wayne kept his poker face firm and tight as his eyes relentlessly tracked any move that Calvin Besser was willing to display. Every bit of nuance stemming from the body language of the portly crime lord could provide either a clue or a dangerous sliver of proof that his opponent was not dropping the name behind The Batman as a mere bluff and the man often dubbed the world's greatest detective was determined not to miss any of them. He continued to observe the potential hunting ground for any kind of advantage, noting quickly whenever there was a tic in the larger man's countenance that displayed weakness or some small twitch of the lips that indicated that perhaps the man known in Gotham's crime circles as Big Smoke was not truly ready for the battle laying on the horizon.

"I just want to come out and say that it's an honor to meet you, Mister Wayne," Big Smoke began again, his deep, resonant voice sounding quite appropriate under the low lights of his modest domicile. "You've done a lot of good work for this city both with and without that mask of yours and the only thing I can hope is that I can do the same."

The taciturn detective continued to remain silent, unwavering in his decision to play his hand out. Besser slightly tilted his head to one side in response, the 35-year-old lifelong citizen of Gotham anticipating the counter and quickly preparing his opposition. "Maybe you don't know this but we do have a bit of secondhand history," he confessed. "My older brother got caught up with some bad connections after he dropped out of high school, wound up getting involved with The Penguin and some shit just before you cracked down on that tub and carted him and his boys off to jail." A soft chuckle slipped from Besser's pudgy lips as he slowly plucked the bowler off of his head and placed it on a nearby end table. "Man, you should have heard my momma when she found out her boy got five years at Blackgate."

"Are you expecting an apology?" Batman growled back, the stinging tone only summoning an amused snort from the green-clad gang leader.

"Naw. Naw. See? My momma looked at what happened to my big brother and then she looked down to me and that was when she decided to make damn certain that what happened to her first born wasn't going to happen to her youngest. Woman worked three jobs just so she could keep food on the table wile savin' up enough money so I could go to college. Ended up wearin' out her very bones just so I could have a taste of something that people don't even bother to dream about from where I'm from." Besser took a pause in his somewhat impassioned speech to briefly remove his glasses off of their usual resting place in order to rub the sore spot on the bridge of his nose. "You see, Batman? You ain't the only one who owes something to this city. Neither my brother nor my mother were able to make it to my graduation day so I'm here to make certain that I do their share."

"Touching story," Batman drawled back in return, the lenses in his cowl effectively hiding the anger rumbling through his eyes. "And how would your late mother feel about you taking everything she earned and using it to peddle drugs and guns?"

The quick anger that briefly ran through Big Smoke's eyes was the gang lord's first true sign of vulnerability throughout the contest, a miscue that was quickly recouped through an utterly derisive sneer. "Shit. How would Martha Wayne feel about you runnin' around the streets at night in your million-dollar PJ's taking the same people that your father would be helping out and putting them in jail?" Besser spat back. "And, yeah, we do control the majority of the drug routes but we didn't even try to do that until me and my people and you and your people made certain that Rupert Thorne's old cocaine wells on The East End were dried up for good. There may still be .45s and sawn-offs bein' sold out at the markets on Jefferson Park but at least it ain't Kalashnikofs and Uzis like it was when fat man Cobblepot was in charge!"

Big Smoke had taken several steps toward the still-as-stone Dark Knight of Gotham City, the weight in his chubby limbs causing some of the aging planks beneath his feet to creak in mild complaint.

"You wanna know why crime is down and the murder rate is as low as its even been around here? It's because of us! It's my soldiers who don't have a mansion to go back to when they get tired of this shit! It's your little Brit boy and his girl who are smart enough to know when to look the other way when some shit goes down that can't get fixed with a whole bunch of fancy superpowers! It's that little blonde-haired girl in the Robin outfit that you came in here all guns blazin' about 'cause you're finally tired of her slumming it with one of my boys. . ."

Batman was at Besser's throat in a second, the middle-aged vigilante demonstrating a degree of speed and concentration that couldn't be registered even by his intelligent but sanctimonious foe. "You think I'm going to be intimidated by some street punk that I allowed to run loose long enough for them to build up their ego?!" Wayne growled with frightening malice as he lifted the 300-plus pound man up by his starched dress shirt with little to no effort. "You're nothing but a rat that's been pretending to be a snake for far too long."

The brief scuffle wasn't enough to drown out the _click-clack _of the .45 Magnum pointed squarely at Batman's cleft chin as Big Smoke brought his next evener to bear, the suffocating grip around his neck and shoulders still not enough to keep the most powerful criminal in Gotham from squirming a hand free. Caught in the stalemate, the two men now had enough time to stop and take stock of where this battle had taken them. There were far too many ways that Batman would have been able to relieve Besser of his pistol and still more ways to render the stocky man unconscious or worse. Likewise, there had been more than enough of an opportunity for Big Smoke to simply ignore the dramatic reveal and simply put a bullet straight through the lower half of Bruce Wayne's skull before the vigilante could barely register that it was coming. There was a smattering of noise outside as a group of children ran down the dirty streets waiting for their school bus to arrive, the project-raised youths knowing little of what was going around them but still far too much than anyone their age should have to take in.

Bruce Wayne lowered Calvin Besser back to his feet. Several seconds later, Big Smoke tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans and once again presented Batman with an even temperament.

"I'm just another man who loves this city, Mister Wayne," Besser said softly while both men took another moment to size the other up. "I've helped and lived alongside a lot of people that deserve a better place than what they've got and I know that these folks could get to someplace better if only they had somebody that could help 'em up." The passionate words revealed a man who could speak just as well from his heart as from his mind, the authentic fervor placed in both his words and his body language putting Batman further on his guard. "Yeah, it might not be all the way right with the system you put so much value into but trust me when I'm sayin' that I'm doing what I think is right just like you are."

"You're comparing my work to yours?" asked Batman, the scorn still present in his tone although not as strong as before. "I imagine that quite a few of the people you claim to protect would disagree with the virtue of your work. What's to stop me from bringing the information I have on you to the city police? Or maybe to the F.B.I? I hear they're still looking for the microprocessors taken off of a Chinese merchant ship just 20 miles off the coast."

Wayne couldn't help but notice the scarring that marked Besser's thick forehead as the criminal raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, and I bet that your boys and girls in The Justice League wouldn't take to kindly to a lot of the shit that you've been getting away with either. What's to stop _me _from bringing what I've got to yo' boy Superman? Or maybe that Oracle you used to hear whispers about around here? 'Cause I'm pretty damn sure they'd be real interested in knowin' why a lot of their former scrapping buddies have been showing up in the morgue instead of jail."

Batman had enough patience to rein himself in, his strong frame staying relatively still as Big Smoke allowed him to mull the matter over. "You wouldn't win in the court of public opinion. So don't threaten me with the possibility of dragging me down with you."

Besser first replied with a sigh as a tiny drop of perspiration managed to slip between a pair of scars on his brow, the eternal hold of gravity allowing the globule of human excretion just a second to remain in its resting place before plummeting down to its relative destruction.

"You're not the only one that wants to pad their metaphorical nest, Mister Wayne. But, still, how long have you been doin' this shit? Twenty years? Thirty? And how much of the shit you have to deal with night in and night out are the same things you were workin' with the first night you went out?" Another bit of sweat threatened to follow the same path of its handful of recent predecessors but the thick-set man brought his right hand up to his forehead and kept that from happening. "Now I know that you've done a whole lot of good things. Hell, there's probably not anybody in this whole city who owes you some thanks but you've been doin' this for so long that you _gotta _realize that you can't change this battleground without changin' it from the inside."

* * *

_Zatara Manor – Kitchen _

"So. Have you ever managed to come across our incoming guest in the past?"

Lloyd responded to the thinly veiled question with a quick shrug of shoulders, the British half-demon courteous enough to avoid slouching his lanky arms on top of the ornate marble table that served as the centerpiece for the lavish and expensive dining area. "Can't say that I have. I mean, I've heard of him by reputation of course but what second-rate enchanter hasn't heard of the bloke?"

"That's true," Zatanna agreed while using her slim hands to apply a liberal dose of honey to her second cup of chamomile. "And, hey, if you didn't hear about the guy then he'll be sure to pout and complain until you're pressured to find out for yourself," she added cheerily before taking a fairly deep sip. The smooth, herbal liquid slid effortlessly down her throat while her guest found his own efforts at consumption momentarily stymied by an amused snort.

"Ah, another proud glory hound among us," Lloyd guessed while gently placing his own cup of tea aside. "Y'know, talk like that can make a bloke wonder why he should trust somebody with that kind of a reputation."

Now it was Zatanna's turn to respond with an unpretentious shrug of her shoulders. "Eh, there are some times in this life when you do get what you pay for. I mean, the guy can definitely be rough around the edges. . . and quite a bit of the middle." The Justice Leaguer paused to take inventory of what she wanted to say, the eye-catching performer tilting her small facial features to her right while pursing her lips. "But Batman and I both know he's also been around long enough to know his stuff." Finding herself still just a bit parched, she took a moment to take another sip from her cup. "Trust me, he'll know how to get this job done."

"My thanks for your kind if unnecessary platitudes, Lady Zatara."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows as the foreign presence that had been circulating about the grounds for the last several seconds finally chose to appear in front of them. Nattily attired with a gray business suit and classic black dress shoes, the man stood just a shade over six feet and the slight wrinkles etched over small portions of his face and hands served as a common sign of a person who could have been either 35, 45, or 55 (or 2,127 as this specific case may be). His reddish-brown hair was styled short and efficient but the streak of gray that ran in the middle of it provided a strong indication that the man cared more about his appearance than he would ever care to admit. The simple appraisal all seemed lightly extravagant and somewhat uninteresting but another half of The Black Dog was quick to look past the simpler details and seek out something that was decidedly less commonplace.

"Well, Jason. My thanks for trying so hard to surprise us." Zatanna fired back, a slightly peevish tone rumbling through the response of the irritated enchantress as she quickly rose back to her feet. "Did you really just teleport right into the middle of my glamour? I spent hours working on that!"

Jason Blood replied with a subdued grumble that served to showcase that he couldn't have cared less about the woman's grievances. "There is no need for such extravagant protests," he said while smoothly removing his coat and placing it on a nearby chair. "My choice of travel was merely an effort to examine how your skills have improved over the course of the last several months. Quite frankly, the disappointment you feel at the splintering of your poorly crafted illusion should fall squarely upon your shoulders."

Lloyd found that he had another moment to examine Batman's old acquaintance as Zatanna fumed in silence. "Good afternoon," he said in greeting while rising to his feet. "I'm. . ."

"Ah, yes. The shell of Za'hafal-nesh," Blood observed, the tone of his familiar statement reminding Lloyd of David Warner in one of his more dignified roles. "Forgive me if I do not wish to engage in the standard banter that seems to frequently interfere with these matters but I believe I was summoned to provide my input upon the recent activity in Neron's domain."

"So you _have _been taking a look at it," said Zatanna, the interest present in her tone spiking and working steadily to overcome her bubbling irritation. "Mister Thomas and I took a look at it from the astral plane and we're guessing that it may have been created by some form of pact made between two creatures from the opposing dimensional poles."

"Well, I suppose that is a sound theory," the millennia-old wizard allowed, the former student of Merlin sounding almost disappointed that he had to properly regard the theory of his younger companion. "However, I am afraid that a personal visit to the temporal scars themselves will be the minimum of what we must accomplish in order to prove or dispute that claim. Such an incantation, particularly if this has truly been created by a greater demon such as Neron, are matters that can be easily cloaked from even the strictest of supernatural planes of investigation."

"Or, in simpler terms, we have to find the proof in the pudding."

Both of the elder enchanters turned to Lloyd and the casual smirk cobbled together by his thin lips.

"Sounds about right," Zatanna then said in agreement.

"Hard to believe that even the eons-old wisdom of The Condemner was enough to cobble together such elucidation," Jason added with decidedly more annoyance.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Lloyd gamely answered back. "Would you have preferred something in rhyming couples perhaps?"

Blood found himself distracted by the remnant of a giggle that Zatanna had failed to stifle. "Point taken," he relented just after firing a wicked and surprisingly familiar glare at the sniggering witch. "I trust that we will begin our travels within your conjuring chamber, Lady Zatara? The ambient charms imbued within such an environment would most likely remove many of the obstructive variables found within such a potentially dangerous jaunt."

"Agreed." Zatanna replied while moving to finish off her tea. "In fact, everything's all set up so just follow me and. . ."

"I believe I shall simply go on ahead," Jason shrewdly interrupted, his back already turned to his two far younger colleagues. "Your shoddy eldritch-related worksmanship may as well be the mystical equivalent of leaving a marbled steak in front of a slathering canine's doorstep."

Silence reigned for a moment within the abundant dining hall as Blood moved to navigate the wooden steps downward into the spot where the three conjurers would soon begin to make their latest trip to hell. Lloyd and Zatanna briefly watched his efforts in silence, the last bit of the ancient wizard's attempt to grab the reins of the situation leaving the mistress of the house with her jaw agape and nearly defenseless towards Lloyd's attempts to sniff and then drink down her last bit of herbal tea. Seeking a bit of comfort, the veteran Justice Leaguer fixed the attention of the half-demon standing across from her with a wide-eyed, incredulous expression. She knew it to be rather rude to try and bring back the recently repressed embarrassment that had seemed to plague her younger collaborator before she had tried so hard to make him feel at ease but her own weakness was enough to push those reservations aside. After all, it was only natural that one should try what they could to avoid becoming the lowest in the metaphorical pack of wolves.

_And, great Cthulu, now I'm starting to ramble like that old bastard in my own head_.

Lloyd repaid her with a slight but genuine smile as he placed Zatanna's cup back down. "Bloody hell. 'S like Batman and Severus Snape had a kid. . . a kid raised by somebody with a surprisingly supply of dress sense."

Zatanna rolled her eyes and let out a derisive snort. "Give me a break. No child of Hans Gruber could have that big of a stick up his ass."

The Black Dog couldn't resist widening his eyes in response, the only natural rejoinder to such a bold observation. Still, he was kind enough to collect himself as Zatanna began tapping her right foot against the floor in a rhythmic pattern, the enchantress clearly torn between returning to the basement to get the job done quicker or remaining on the ground level and banking upon the off chance that she would piss off her ancient associate.

"You may very well be the perfect woman."

That was enough to bring Zatanna's smile back to the forefront, the cocky tilt of her hips and the sparkle in her eyes naturally quick to follow.

"Eh. I've always thought so."

* * *

_Saizeru Monastery_

Mother and daughter seemingly turned as one to meet the thinly veiled fury on Caleb's face, the anger and determination seemingly pouring from the man's tall, muscular features as he steadily moved his way forward. Lian was doing her best to remain at the man's heels, her 10-year-old legs hardly enough to match her guardian stride-for-stride but still too quick to accept the idea of breaking into a full run to keep the proper pace. Instead, the lone daughter of Roy Harper found herself caught between a trot and a jog, the copper-skinned youth looking increasingly more worried with each passing step made by either her usual disciplinarian or her favorite aunt.

"Well, what's with all the hellfire and brimstone, Reverand Falwell?" Steph asked as she came to a stop as well just after sliding in front of her mother in a decidedly protective manner, the toothy smile on her heart-shaped face looking just as hostile as what Caleb had offered to her. "'Cause, hey, if you've got questions then I shall tell you no lies."

"That's exactly what I'm hopin' to hear," Caleb growled back as he stopped moving as well, his towering, six-foot-five, 220-pound frame sliding to a stop within arm's length of the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns. "'Cause there is a good man in the laundry room of this monastery that just got cut into and burned by some kind of hoodoo and you've got the strongest magic in this place."

"Woah, now, wait a second here!" Stephanie fumed while sliding her way forward until she was nearly face-to-face with the accusatory stranger. "First you try and intimidate me the second I show up and now you're accusing me of killing somebody?! What the hell is. . ."

"Stephanie. Caleb. That's enough," Agnes broke in with a forcefulness she wasn't certain she had while sliding around her daughter's protective gesture. "What on earth is going on, Caleb? Who's been hurt?"

"Brother Malcolm," Caleb growled back through his tightened jaws. "A man who wouldn't harm a fly even if it looked at him funny and now he looks like he's been hangin' on a spit. And Agnes. . . I want a good explanation from this daughter of yours on why there's spent magic that's an awful lot like hers all over it."

"That is enough with your accusations," Agnes said firmly while turning to look her friend straight in the eyes, the brief half-second she needed to check on Lian the only thing keeping her attention diverted in the slightest.

"Magic an awful lot like mine, huh?" Stephanie countered while crossing her slim arms over her chest. "Did the Lord Almighty give you a clue in on what makes a Green Lantern tick or are you sayin' that I'm not supposed to be suspicious about a statement like that?"

Agnes found herself whirling around as quickly as she could. "Stephanie! STOP!"

"You ain't answerin' my question, little girl!" Caleb spat back, the towering holy man slowly sliding the anxious mother and caretaker aside. "Those burns were fresh and the blood was still spillin' so that means the killin' wasn't done too long ago. Now add that in with the fact that I found you playing games just a couple rooms down from the spot of the murder and you'll pardon me if I'm just a little suspicious."

It was strange how a specific and particular series of antecedents and behaviors can lead to a certain and unexpected consequence. For example, perhaps if Caleb hadn't come into the situation with such an accusatory frame of mind then maybe Stephanie would have thought better than to respond by shoving the preacher into the wall with almost a little too much force, the meeting of bone and flesh on solid stone causing Lian to let out a sharp gasp. It was also possible that if Caleb had not been so blindly determined to find the answers then he wouldn't have stomped his way and responded with a push of his own that sent Robin stumbling into the opposite partition along the narrow corridor. The wound to Stephanie's pride was understandably shallow, a momentary bruise to the ego that could have been easily laughed aside far more often than not but the combination of that and the friction buzzing about in her conscious thoughts and the lingering anger she felt on a variety of other matters was enough to push the current Robin into action. She grabbed the Southern-born preacher by his broad shoulders, her fingers getting a good hold of the big man's black robes, and began to shake him about like one of those rag dolls her father tried to dump on her when he didn't have the time to steal something she actually wanted.

Lian Harper dashed forward in an attempt to break up the scuffle, the thought of seeing people that she cared for fighting evoking a whole bunch of bad memories that spurred her to try to stop the one happening in the present time. The pent up emotion that came with her attempt, in turn, ended up being just enough to be caught blind as Caleb swung Stephanie's body at such an angle that the Green Lantern's right foot lashed out and struck the very middle of Lian's chin, the force of the accidental strike nearly enough to snap the girl's neck. The force of the unwilling strike was enough to clatter her teeth together even as a pair of her lower incisors punched a bit of the way into her upper lip as she fell backward, a sheer matter of physics and dumb luck serving as the only things that kept the youth from banging the back of head against the floor. The painful wheeze from those tiny, bloodstained lips was enough to bring Stephanie back to where she should have been all along, the added sight of her mother dashing over and tending to Lian, her little peanut, quickly filling her with shock, dismay, and guilt.

The hands wrapped around her throat, however, told a very different story.

"YOU FILTHY WHORE!!" Caleb roared, the preacher's once calm brown eyes now having shifted into pools of ebony as more and more strength flowed into his long fingers. "YOU AIN'T GONNA GET AWAY WITH WHAT YOU'VE DONE! THE RIGHTEOUS SHALL REJOICE WHEN HE SEETH THE VENGEANCE. HE SHALL WASH HIS FEET WITH THE BLOOD OF THE WICKED!!"

"Appease yourself, Brother Caleb!"

The voice was booming and seemed to envelop every hint of the long, narrow passageway. Finding some time to focus as Caleb hastily backed away, Stephanie suddenly couldn't help but think that such a vociferous effort should not have been possible from such a frail old man, the white-haired minister holding a determined expression on his withered face that demanded attention while simultaneously tempting its viewers to look away in shame. It made the varying levels of Batglares she had received over the years look like a five-year-old pouting for a cookie and the young Green Lantern found herself looking down to the ground, her mind frantically searching for what she could say or do to mollify the situation at hand. Of course, even her own surprisingly supply of guilt was not enough to keep her from realizing that Caleb appeared to be going through the same steps, his eyes quickly returning to their normal state just before he turned away from her.

Momentarily satisfied with his work, Valsu Saizer slowly made his way forward, his two-person congregation simply incapable to rise to the level that the aged vicar had asked for them to ascend to.

"Your misplaced rage will benefit no one, least of all yourself," Valsu reminded his longtime charge, the aide memoire prompting Caleb to shut his eyes tightly as his advisor rested his tiny left arm upon his shoulder for just a scant of a second before moving on to other matters. Slowly stooping down to one knee, the head abbot examined Lian as she lay on the floor, her back safely supported by Agnes's right hand resting against the small of her back. "A mild concussion. No lasting damage to the skull or tongue, thankfully. However, it is crucial that we bring Miss Harper to the lower level infirmary as soon as possible."

"Lower level?" Agnes asked, her surprise the only thing allowing the former nurse to tear her eyes away from her beleaguered patient. "Why not just go to the ground floor?"

"I am afraid that such a choice is no longer a safe option," Valsu replied while slowly raising back to his full height, the movement made easier as Caleb moved quickly to give him a helping hand. "The wards around the monastery are undergoing an inordinate amount of interference and it is quite obvious that whoever the culprit may be will soon be making their presence felt on a grander scale."

"Brother Valsu, I don't know if you have heard or not but Benedict. . ."

"The murder of Benedict Gregor is a great tragedy, my child," Valsu said softly. "However, that is a matter that cannot be addressed until we reassure the safety of all living souls that remain within this monastery."

"Hold up now. I thought Puppy said that this place's magic made it one of the safest places there could be. If something like this went down then why wouldn't my ring sense it?"

The twinkle in Valsu's forest-green eyes was almost impossible to place into one emotional category or the other. It was enough that Stephanie wasn't quite sure how to respond, the fair-haired Gothamite suddenly wanting to smile, frown, or twist up her face in confusion all at the same time.

"What makes you believe that it would not?" Valsu finally asked after what seemed like minutes but was probably nothing more than a slight moment. "Why would the both of you respond to your confusion and frustration with barely controlled anger and rage? Why would you hold such hostility and trepidation for someone you have only just met?" Saizer allowed to let the questions lie as the two scrappers were allowed some time to recollect themselves. "Do not look for these answers within the heart or your hands but within your mind. The foul enchantments that now surround this place cannot sink its claws into your thoughts unless you allow it to happen."

Stephanie responded by shutting her eyes tight, the former Spoiler resolving herself to work free from whatever outside interference that the vicar had somehow managed to pick up well before her. She did what she could to shut down the ever-active thoughts that she had trained herself to rouse to attention during those many lonely nights in ramshackle apartment complexes and other substandard domiciles. Lyrics to nonsensical songs, old nursery rhymes, catch phrases, nicknames, and martial arts instructions were all unwound to reveal the festering ball of anger and resentment that was struggling to push itself to her emotional forefront. She managed to stop herself from pretending to shine a flash of emerald light within her mind's eye and chose instead to focus on what the ring on her finger was trying so hard to tell her. She could almost hear the teasing tone ringing between her own eardrums, the chastising words that served as the punishment for allowed her mind to be poorly occupied.

_Found you, asshole._

Robin snapped her eyes back open only to be once again greeted by an expectant expression in Valsu's eyes.

"Lloyd tells me that you are quite comfortable with working through your frustrations with the aid of senseless violence. With this information in mind, perhaps you would be interested in greeting our eventual visitors at the front gate?"

Despite the possible consequences, Stephanie responded with a devilish grin.

* * *

_Gotham – 2782 Grove Street_

"How did you get the amount of money you would need to start up an operation like this?"

Convinced that the need to establish a position of authority was no longer the highest priority, Big Smoke let out a tired sigh as he slowly slunk into the chair that bordered the table that held his green bowler. "Should have been a lawyer, Batman. Always askin' these questions that you've already got the answers to."

"Answer the question, Besser." Batman growled back, the detective still standing ramrod straight but still ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"All right! Shit. Ain't like you don't already know the answer, _Wayne_," Besser replied, the sharp tone in that last word causing the upper half of Batman's cowl to contract just slightly, the tempered rubber and steel alloy hood forced to adjust to the narrowing of its wearer's eyes. "Just had one of my old college buddies get a hold of your company's stock portfolio and I put my money into the same stuff you did."

"Marcus Carper," Wayne rumbled back. "Brought on to the accounts payable staff of the Wayne Enterprises capital office four years ago. I believe he just received 10 years in Blackgate for fraud."

Besser briefly shook his head back and forth before the urge to chuckle became too much to stand. "Yeah, you've done your homework all right," he confirmed while clapping his large, stubby hands together. "He also managed to get access to the ledger for your weapons R&D and didn't _that _bring up some interesting purchases. Still, all that aside, I started out with thirty-thousand dollars of my own money and turned it into a half-million in three years. Turns out that was just enough to help me get the people I'd need to get into the funds of people who are getting their funds by, well, less reputable means." The slow smile that surfaced on the crime lord's face nearly forced Batman to decide whether he wanted to snarl or deliver a grin back in response but the veteran detective managed to rein his impulses in and keep his stony countenance. "Guys like Thorne and Falcone and that punk-ass Roland Daggett. Boy should have known that there's tougher people on these streets than those sherry-sipping bastards from The East End. But the funny part is that now I'm usin' their money to help people like the Carper family who can't pay their bills on their own anymore."

"Until the fallen syndicates recognize they've been had and unite just to take down the king of the mountain," Batman quickly broke in, his deep, commanding voice breaking the jovial countenance that Besser was bringing to the table. "Rather interesting that your acquisition of criminal territory seems to nicely coincide with either the indictment or voluntary expulsion of some of the older hands."

The bald accusation behind Batman's words caused Besser to laugh again, uttering that slow, throaty, almost arrogant chortle that made Bruce Wayne want to hurt something quite badly. "My lieutenants took over Robinson Grove three days after your group put Thorne and his boys behind bars, I personally saw to the acquisition of Jefferson Heights after your little gold-medal girl put an arrow straight through Falcone's skull and I've had my financial people buy up the property that Daggett had to put on the block to pay his lawyer fees. So you see, Mister Wayne, just like with my investments, I've broken no laws or rules of the system that you seem to hold so dear."

"Your 'investing' is little more than the scavenging and profiteering of the people you foolishly claim to be watching over!" Batman fired back through gritted teeth. "You line your pockets with money could have been spent on things that would truly help the city! Low-income housing projects, drug rehabilitation centers, emergency infrastructure projects, public health clinics. . . all of which could have used the money that you took for yourself in order to support some Quixotic effort to reshape Gotham's criminal activity under your control!"

"Tell that to the big boys up at Bank of America stealin' from us and using that money to give themselves million dollar bonuses," Besser coolly countered, his left arm sliding sideways so he could grab a hold of his trademark headgear. "Or maybe you should be harrasin' those state councils taking the cash that was meant to help the people that provided it but somehow manages to lose a big chunk of it before it can get where it's supposed to go." The criminal was wise not to sound too hypocritical or smug as he observed Batman's tensing shoulders, a clear sign that the possibility of maintaining a civil conversation was threatening to teeter into the unlikely. "Come to think about it, how much did your board of directors receive in bonuses for another successful quarter, Mister Wayne?"

"None," Batman coldly replied.

"And that is the point, my brother!" Besser exclaimed while rising to his feet once more. "But just because you're a good man doin' what you can doesn't mean that you ain't a part of the establishment that keeps Gotham, this nation, this _world _the way it is! See, about 60 years ago your old man took his inheritance and used it to finance building hospitals, updating necessary things like medical technology and domestic construction equipment. He turned a couple million into 50 times that by helping people, not taking. Then you go and turn what you received and made yourself a billionaire and that let's you help out even more. Shit! Just try to count the number of lives, including myself, that you saved during the earthquake when our own damn government turned their fuckin' backs on us! Your buildings and housing complexes were some of the only things left standing!

There was quite the pregnant pause as Batman was allowed to think the overpowering words over, a span of time where the man behind the intimidating façade fought hard to avoid being thankful for being able to hear what had just been said. He viewed such an impulse as little more than a glaring weakness, a flaw that had taken root on nearly the first day he returned to Gotham, a young man determined to change the city he loved for the better. This emotional blemish had germinated in the past 22 years, its branches forming and lengthening with the ascension of each new mafia family or crime syndicate or with the downfall of a deceitful mayor or city council member or any of the other inevitable events that still managed to keep him awake some nights and even more early mornings. However, just as he had done so many times before, Bruce was quick to subjugate his frustration with anger.

"I'm not some saint or paragon of virtue, Calvin Besser. I am a man who pays the penalties for his mistakes and misconducts with each loss of an innocent life. Were you capable of doing the same two months ago when your battle between your troops and Thorne's mercenaries at 522nd Street sent three people to the hospital and a nine-year-old child to the morgue?" Batman's formerly cold delivery had turned hot and volatile, a blatant revelation of what lay behind the usual brooding demeanor. "I will never sit idly by and let this city's future be decided by someone who can only see their vision of Gotham rather than what it actually is!"

"Well, maybe some people think that this city looks better than you think it does!" Besser countered, his shoulders lowering as he brought his hands to sit along the pockets of his jeans. "And we've watched you fight the same psycho-ass white boys over and over again 'cause you didn't want to kill 'em and I ain't mad at ya for that shit but, damn man, you know things can be better."

Batman looked on in silence as Big Smoke sat down once again, this time to take a sip from the glass of water that lay on the nearby kitchen table. "And what do you expect to be in this brave new world you describe, Besser?" Bruce asked as his opponent's anterior neck muscles bulged outward so the trachea could better accept its offering. "Some kind of scarred liberator who lifts other people while enjoying the fruits of your labor? Even if I were to believe you, I should warn you that such an existence is easy to lie about and far more difficult to maintain."

Big Smoke let out a breath before wiping off some remnants of moisture off of his thickset lips. "I ain't a saint either, Mister Wayne. I just want what I believe you want: to allow my brothers and sisters, whatever color they may be or wherever they may be from, to know that it's okay to give a little something 'cause they know that somebody else is gonna give a little back to 'em."

Bruce couldn't help but notice that Calvin Besser had what Selina would call "hound dog eyes". They appeared to be too large and round for the criminal's pudgy, thickly set face but still they remained; the irises wide, richly black, and teeming with honesty and the secrets that lay behind them.

"So whaddaya thinking, Bruce Wayne?" Big Smoke asked, his delivery deep and made for persuasion. "Or would you rather want to be called Batman?"

Bruce found that he needed some time to decide how he wanted to respond. Too much time, as fate would have it, given that loud _bang _that rose from behind Batman and caused both he and Besser to swerve towards the source of the noise. They had to keep moving their eyes, however, since Sweet was already on the move, the handle of his .45 already wrapped tightly within his right fist. Arrowette was only a few steps behind, the younger of the two lieutenants jogging forward while simultaneously trying to sling her well-stocked quiver across her back.

"Yo, Smoke! There's some weird shit goin' on at the four-way stop, man!" Sweet hollered, the urgency in the smaller man's voice enough to bring Big Smoke back to his feet.

"What's going on?" Batman asked sternly.

"It's demons, Batman," answered Arrowette. "Some kind of portal opened up about three tenths of a mile away and a whole bunch of creepy-looking freaks just started dropping out of it. It's shut now but they're still coming this way."

"Shit! I told you we shouldn't have tried this bullshit!" Sweet spat out, the former convict and longtime friend of Big Smoke shaking his thin but muscular arms to let out his frustration. "Man, let's just get the fuck out of here!"

The response was the slamming of a nearby storage case that Smoke had been making his way towards from the moment his lieutenant warned him of the trouble. The big man soon emerged with a brown leather shoulder holster stocked with a spare .45 and several clips to go with it. Besser's left hand was once again holding the gun that could have killed The Batman while his right hand was encumbered with a 12-gauge shotgun, the barrel pointed up at the ceiling with the handle resting against his shoulder.

"We ain't going nowhere, Sweet." Big Smoke said firmly while prepping the 12-gauge. "Make sure you get the rifles to Ryder and his boys up in the old Dodson house. Then you get the kids and the women who don't want to fight and make sure they safe and then call up the boys from Jefferson and tell 'em we'll need some of the heavy artillery we got from The Iceberg."

"Get your people out of here, Besser," Batman broke in with an even firmer tone, his voice carrying over the distant screams and alternating commands. "I will not have the people of Gotham put themselves in danger for something I can handle on my own!"

"Hold up now, motherfucker," Sweet exclaimed, the potentially derogatory words spurring the diminutive thug's courage. "Now you may be the king bee bitch up on your side of town but you ain't about to tell us to get out of The Grove."

"Damn right!" Besser said with determination while clacking his spare .45 to readiness, his surprisingly fast stride soon moving ahead of Batman and Arrowette. It was clear that the portly head of the most powerful crime syndicate in Gotham was more than ready to perform the grislier parts of his work. Passing through his open front door, he saw nearly two-dozen green clad street soldiers, men and women, lined around hastily parked cars, street gates, and other rudimentary forms of cover with even more of his force doubtlessly hiding in the shadows or perched in the upper floors of the surrounding houses. He knew that there were quite a few of them waiting on hearing from him, expecting his guidance, and that thought nearly caused the once-confident mastermind to struggle for the strength he needed.

Then he thought of his mother, remembering so many times when she would order her youngest son to hit the books or study for college entrance exams even after the strain of 16-hour work days.

Looking back on that, he found it hard to believe that he had ever found his current task to be intimidating in the least. However, just as his words were at the ready, he found himself interrupted by a burst of high, cold laughter. Having long been prepared to listen for and find unusual or dangerous noises, Besser was able to quickly track the sound and twisted his sights to the hood of Sweet's old truck, the ragged vehicle standing in its usual parking spot about twenty yards away. A number of slow, dangerous seconds passed as the source of the merriment revealed himself, the pallid-faced youth with blood-red eyes seemingly quite content with perching on the ancient motor vehicle.

"Well, well. All these unexpected guests," Sebastian Blood began with an almost pleased coo while leaping from the bed of the truck, his red-and-purple battle attire shining briefly in the glow of the early morning sunlight, His graceful leap to the center of the battlefield was quickly followed by the roars and snarls of the 100 or so demons rushing toward Calvin Besser's longtime home.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I hate to say it but I don't have any excuses for my tardiness outside of the ones I usually employ. Fifty-five to 60 hour work week, studying to broaden my master's degree, trying to maintain some modicum of a social life (i.e. I've finally found another person willing to go out with me), and doing all the various madcap things that allow me to maintain the even emotional keel I require when cobbling together another issue of this award-winning series (don't really want to go into details because I'm not in the mood to damage anybody's minds). Suffice it to say that I thank all of you for your patience (except Rachel who, quite frankly, has been a real bitch about all of this) and I hope that this latest installment lives up to your expectations.

Or tempts you to review. Either way. I'm just really hoping to hit the 800 review mark before I get to the 100th issue.

On a brighter note, I have to say that though I'm not yet fully on the bandwagon of Stephanie Brown as Batgirl, I do find that it's gotten good enough to make me happy that she's got a comic in the first place. It's a long ways from the depressothons being put up by guys like Bendis and Morrison but Bryan Q. Miller has helped create a fun, loose book that's just entertaining to read. Sort of the literary equivalent of a go-kart race. Plus it seems that a lot of people are talking about it (for good and for ill) and that's a hell of a lot better than nobody talking at all.

Speaking of which, is there still a Teen Titans series? 'Cause I haven't heard a peep about that for about a year-and-a-half now. And what's this I hear about Kid Devil dying? I liked him!

Ah well, I may have just misread it. Here's a little something that's a bit more on-the-point though. . .

* * *

_Issue #94 Preview_

Well, break time is over and now it's time for quite a few of our friendly neighborhood Misfits to punch in and get ready for their usual labors. Lloyd is heading back down to a hell dimension, Batman and Arrowette have been tracked down by Brother Blood and his demonic army and Stephanie has been tapped to save the Saizeru Monastery from whatever mysterious force that has placed the ancient sanctuary on the brink of annihilation. All this plus Linda and Wally clearing up their insurance problems in the next thrilling installment of _The Misfits_. . . Walking Hand-in-Claw. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	94. Walking HandinClaw

Issue #94

Walking Hand-in-Claw

_Saizeru Monastery _

"Gotta admit that you were not the person I was expecting here. As a matter of fact, I would have guessed that you'd still be all shagged out after all that hanky-panky you and Nightwing have doubtlessly been doing." The mischievous speaker took a moment to let her self-amusement sink in, as was her way. "That's how you Brits refer to it, right? Shagged out?"

The elder of the two travelers did her best to look cross while continuing to do her best to keep with the surprisingly fast steps of her comrade. "I don't suppose there is anything I can do to keep you from saying something else that will doubtlessly embarrass us both," she asked in a somewhat plaintive manner.

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns coolly replied with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "Aw, I wouldn't do that," Stephanie replied while simultaneously performing a quick check of her ring while using said eldritch accessory to make another examination of the surrounding grounds. "And besides, I'm more interested in knowing whether or not Dickie's ass looks just as good without pants as it does with. 'Cause, honestly, all that effort he puts into keeping me and Cissie from spying on him is starting to make me believe that the guy wears butt lifts."

Doctor Naomi Mitchell, one of the youngest ever graduates of Oxford Medical School and the chief overseer of a five year project that called for her to be constantly prepared for anything and everything that demanding life called for, was thankfully equipped with the presence of mind to unwillingly respond with a dumbfounded stare. "The origin. . . of the transdimensional breach is proving to be remarkably difficult to identify," she pressed forward in the midst of Stephanie's upraised eyebrows. "It was quite obviously a hasty but well-created enchantment, particularly seeing as how it was able to slip through the monastery's wards. It is highly unlikely that another such effort would succeed but the quick shutdown of the portal would indicate that this could be some form of suicide mission."

Robin couldn't help but glower at the suggestion as she and Naomi made a sharp left turn into another corridor that would soon bring them to the main hall. "Oh goody. So we've got a gaggle of nutso demons trapped in here with us and they've got no means or desire to go back where they came from." The Green Lantern surprised herself by remaining patient in the face of the shocked expression on Naomi's face. "Have they managed to get into the monastery itself?"

Naomi slowly shook her head back and forth. "The mystics managed to sustain the internal wards before any further encroachment could be managed. Of course, that still leaves the problem of nearly 100 demons waiting outside those double doors."

"Well, maybe they're just here to sell Girl Scout cookies," Stephanie offered in a somewhat distracted manner, her small feet bringing the rest of her body to a stop within sight of the aforementioned access point. The mystically-powered warrior tilted her head to one side in a curious manner while brushing the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She spent only a moment observing the confused look on the pale but hardened face of Nightwing's lover before she committed her thoughts to action and cast a gentle wave of emerald energy that encircled Naomi's body. Robin tried not to smile as Naomi initially shrank away from it before quickly realizing that no harm was meant. It was only seconds before Stephanie's ring provided the report, the accessory's telepathic communications informing the Green Lantern of something she was glad to have known already.

"Yeah, well, let's not discount the chance that somebody did this from the inside," the Gothamite finally offered while continuing to move forward. "I mean, somebody had to kill this Gregor guy, right?"

"The mystics that can be spared from protecting this place are already looking into the matter," Naomi sagely replied, the geneticist having long traveled the wavelength of thought that Stephanie had chosen. "What's important now is to ensure the safety of the children and be able to get everyone away from here safely should the need arise."

"Couldn't agree more," Stephanie said tersely, her brows already furrowing in frustration as she caught sight of something she wasn't wanting to see. "Is my mom all right?"

"She was part of the initial group of evacuees." Naomi quickly answered. "No worries there, Miss Robin. Just try to focus on containing the demons and keeping them from the monastery's wards while we take care of any. . ." The doctor had to admit that she was mildly stymied by the anger that suddenly flashed in Stephanie's eyes but the sight that greeted her at the front gate quickly put that confusion to rest. "Oh dear. . ."

Lian Harper gave a cheerful wave back in response to Naomi's understandable alarm and Stephanie's grim glare, the cotton around the girl's lips and the bandaging around her chin and neck keeping the young lady from providing a vocal response.

"What in the blueballin' fuckin' suckin' hell are you doing here?!"

Needless to say, Stephanie Brown did not share this hindrance.

"Mind your tongue, Miss Stephanie," Caleb warned the vigilante as he stood to Lian's left, the muscle-bound minister easily towering over both the copper-skinned youth and the snarling Green Lantern whose attention he had successfully drawn. "This little lady jus' wanted to make sure that there weren't nothing to worry about."

The quick nodding and the even hastier steps that Lian made towards her favorite aunt was enough to convince the brown-haired holy man that he had successfully gotten his message across. To his credit, he did not interfere in the slightest as Stephanie carefully swept the girl into her arms, the overtly protective warden of the monastery content with interlocking his fingers behind his back while the outsider carefully held the troublesome youth aloft. He even remained patient as the bothersome little warrior woman quickly inspected the girl for anything amiss before taking several seconds to wrap Lian within an appropriately firm hug. A quick kiss aimed straight for the center of the gauze dressing around the girl's chin was quick to follow and then the little girl was back on her own two feet and rushing back towards him.

"You just make certain that the little peanut gets out safely," Robin replied, a thick note of warning in the woman's voice as she locked eyes with her previous antagonist. The malignant energy that waited for her just outside the thick, oak double doors was almost begging for her attention now, the supernatural noise making the fair, slight hairs on the back of her neck twitch as she turned to face Naomi.

"These doors are going to lock behind me, right?"

The doctor once again responded with just a nod, the rest of her body already set to the task of returning to the underground levels of the monastery. She remained calm and determined as she picked up Lian's soft steps just behind her, the former assistant of Dr. Lugae making certain to keep track of Roy's daughter just as Caleb chose to do so while trailing the two ladies as they all made their way to relative safety.

Robin, on the other hand, let out a huff while turning away from her possible friend, loved one, and potential killer as she took another close look at the entrance to the monastery. Another ring-powered sweep revealed a plethora of unquestionably dicey groundswells of eldritch energy, the mere feeling of them enough to convince Stephanie that this wasn't a matter of sunshine and daffodils. Still, never being one to shy away from making life her own show, Stephanie was quick to manufacture a proper greeting in the form of an emerald-green steamroller, the menacing hum of its immaterial engine clashing nicely with the grunts, growls and roars that rose from the other side of the door. Taking a moment to climb into the "driver's seat", she then used her ring to create a giant pair of boxing gloves that opened the doors wide. Giving a brief, silent word of thanks to one Hal Jordan, Stephanie employed the suddenly open space to giddily move forward, her supernatural construct trampling the various hell spawn that had foolishly chosen to be the first in line to take her on.

Her second construct had already finished shutting the double doors down before Stephanie chose to properly leap into the fray, her familiar energy claws already prepared as she flayed the face of a Luxor demon that had attempted to electrocute her with the needles that lined its ragged face. A determined Fyarl and an Omina Rodentius demon were the next to go down, the powerful creatures so eager to get at her that their blind charges got in the other's way and made them easy prey for the energized space warrior.

"All right," Stephanie whooped as her small, wiry frame came to a stop in the middle of the surrounding horde, the almost manic look in her pale blue eyes a match for any ferocious countenance that her many opponents could bring to the table. "Let's dance."

* * *

"This is not good."

Lloyd couldn't help but smack his lips together as Jason Blood made his initial diagnosis. "Oh, and what gave that away? The fact that this nice slice of hell is getting closer to Earth by the second or the whole potential demonic invasion bit?"

Silence held its momentary reign within the edge of Earth's supernatural plane as the sole surviving student of Merlin took a moment from his examination to meet the British half-demon with a rueful glare. "What I mean is that these incantations are far more entrenched than the standard dimensional pathways," he pointed out while tracing his fingers across a particularly colorful rift. The slightest hint of a frown leaked from his rigid countenance as the energy around the temporal cleft let out an angry, crimson-colored pulse but he soon recovered himself and continued his initial prognosis. "In most circumstances like these it would just be a matter of either closing the rift itself or eliminating the disturbance at its source."

"Well, we already knew that we couldn't just close these things on our own," Zatanna replied, the enchantress's brow furrowing as she brushed her stylish but functional boots against the reddish-brown rock beneath her feet. "But you're saying that these things are going to stay around? I mean, even if we can stop Neron or convince him to shut these down?"

"If it is true that Neron is the creator of these rifts, yes," Blood replied while drawing in his left hand, his long fingers clenching tightly as if there were claws. The soft murmuring of a long-forgotten chant was quick to follow, the words a series of strict summons designed to separate the very elements of the world itself in order to make them more suited for perusal. It was an ancient ritual designed by one of the eldest sects of Tibetan monks in order to better prepare various consecrated sites for cleansing and the proper release of souls but now the almost guttural words served to search for a far more sinister purpose. He supposed that he could have credited his two younger counterparts for their patience as he proceeded through the process, a span of time that seemed like a handful of minutes within his cognitive perspective but was nearly an hour outside of it but the simple fact remained that there were more important things to do.

Jason's temples were throbbing as the trance finally came to a close, the old wizard letting out a gasp of exhaustion as he fell back into Lloyd's waiting arms. Again, perhaps he could have offered thanks to the boy for his timely assistance as well as for the spell Zatanna had cast to restore a good portion of his senses but, again, the possibility went unfulfilled.

"So what are we lookin' at 'ere?" The Black Dog asked gently while making certain to stay close to the exhausted magician. "Should we be expectin' a right and proper end of days here?"

"Well, it has been a while," Zatanna confessed while helping Lloyd to settle Jason's tired body down to the ground. "'Cause it's not like we can really meet our quota without some greater demon or blood-based super villain or reality television star trying to rise up from and enslave us all."

The millennial-old half-demon surprised both of his younger colleagues with a hoarse chuckle while settling himself as much as he could. "Such cataclysmic events do seem to occur rather frequently in these times," Blood admitted while fighting back the urge to let out a wet cough. "However, the fact remains that these tears throughout the fabric separating Neron's domain and our own were quite obviously created by sources from both sides, specifically through the work of powerful sorcery transferring an enormous amount of energy from one dimensional plane to another."

"Then why wouldn't we have known about it sooner?" Lloyd asked while standing up back to his full height. "I mean, if we're talkin' about a direct transaction of energy from one place to another, enough juice to make these kinds of lacerations on an astral plane then somebody should have been able to spot it before it got this bad."

"That's true," Zatanna cautiously confirmed as Blood continued his struggle to recover. "Unless whatever sent that energy in the first place is controlling just how much of it is being brought in at one time."

"Precisely," Blood broke in, the confusion he saw in Lloyd's youthful eyes serving to be a mild annoyance to the sorcerer and spurring him to develop a simpler explanation. "Imagine a large amount of water being held back by a dam, shell of Za'hafal-nesh, and all that force is struggling to break free from its forced confines but is unable to do so without some outside force. Punch a hole through that weir and some of that water will escape immediately, the precise amount depending upon the size and location of the aperture, while the rest of it awaits for the opportunity to escape as well."

"But what happens if somebody seals up the hole," Lloyd broke in, the youngest of the available magicians beginning to piece the puzzle together. "You still have all that energy bottled up between the two dimensions and stuck within all that bloody near infinite space."

"And searching to find it might as well be the supernatural equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack," added Zatanna. "But whoever's behind all this would know where it is and could release it anywhere they wanted to."

Blood finally gave in and allowed himself a ragged breath just before a forced cough brought some spent mucus and blood rising to the back of his throat. "Imagine my surprise in the wake of your elementary detective skills," he finally offered, the coarse words drawing yet another small amount of ire from his comrades. Unbeknownst to him, however, there was another manner that kept Lloyd and Zatanna's attention upon him. "Meanwhile, all that energy could interfere with the mystical minutiae of its inevitable destination," Blood continued to explain as he felt a cold sweat begin to build along the bridge of his forehead. "Producing. . . producing phenomena that would not exist on a certain plane of reality under ordinary. . . circumstances."

The tangible magic seemed to swirl around the old wizard's eyes as he nearly fell face forward from the strain, the close presence of Zatanna the only thing keeping his head from slamming to the ground. Though quite cognizant of the potential aftereffects of mystic withdrawal, it was all Jason could do to keep his wits about him as he struggled to avoid swallowing his tongue as his lower extremities ran cold and his hands began to shake.

"I knew I was right," Zatanna told Jason without a trace of satisfaction while allowing Lloyd to once again grab a hold of the aged Brit. "Whatever this might be is doing a number on you. I thought you were just being crabby back at the manor but this stuff is affecting you in some way."

"Utter. . . nonsense," Jason slowly spat back while trying and failing to break free from The Black Dog's clutches. He managed to twist one arm free from Lloyd's grip but that bit of luck was only thanks to the distraction provided by a bright pulse that erupted from a temporal gap nearly 40 yards away. His still floundering vision could only catch bits and pieces of the somewhat familiar sigil as it cast a dark light upon them as it slowly expanded like a firework dissolving into a clear, night sky. The menacing light was then soon replaced by the sight of horns, fangs, claws, and sinew as demons began to bound from the immaterial gateway, three or four at a time, each one of them quick to recover from their jaunt and launch themselves at their anticipated prey.

"Well, we've got some options here," Zatanna reminded her comrades as the number of their prospective opponents quickly lurched into triple digits. "I mean, there's no guarantee that these critters can follow us out of here so maybe we can just take our exit and. . ."

The witch didn't even bother to continue her quest for reason as a black-and-gold blur zoomed past her, the velocity of the 185-pound, sword-wielding missile enough to knock her top hat off of her formerly well-arranged head of black curls. She briefly debated the most suitable response for the situation at hand while watching her younger comrade quickly go to his chosen work, the half-demon's gleaming silver saber quickly becoming stained by the blood of a number of different demonic species. Finding herself somewhat impressed, the oldest friend of Bruce Wayne took one second to check on Blood's well-being before finally giving in to the dangerous smile that was rising up to accentuate her dimpled cheeks.

"Eh, I was getting pretty tired of waiting too," she finally confessed to no one in particular as her baby-blues caught the sight of a trio of gargoyle-like beasts winging their way towards her. "Enots stegeb enots!"

A sharp ray of gray energy erupted from Zatanna's joined palms, the bolt of energy quickly splitting into three in order to properly strike each of its targets. The effects of the carefully cast magic were quick to take their hold, the winged beasts each letting out a surprised shriek as they discovered their bodies becoming heavier, their limbs less willing to keep them aloft. Their indecipherable pleas were soon rendered mute as they each plummeted to the ground, the foiled lesser demons now looking like prime candidates for topping some of Gotham's finest gothic architecture.

"Nommus gninthgil," Zatanna whispered with a wicked grin as bolts of blue lightning began to spring from her fingertips. "Step right up, my pretties," she then added before releasing the energy into the bloodthirsty throng.

* * *

_Gotham City – Grove Street_

Batman had already cast his lot before Sebastian Blood could complete his bold leap onto the battlefield. Sending a silent signal to his patrol partner, the shadowy vigilante bounded off the wooden steps of Besser's home as the familiar twang of an arrow leaving the string drifted through his sharp ears. He already had two batarangs at the ready as Blood let loose a garbled scream, the pained cry the product of a phenomenally well-shot arrow whose steel-tipped head plunged through the immortal's right eye at nearly 70 miles an hour. Giving little notice as Blood struggled to recover, The Dark Knight of Gotham City launched the bladed boomerang clutched in his left hand, the projectile's sharp edge finding purchase in the skull of an eight-foot tall, puce-colored tri-horned beast that didn't look the least bit pleased by the rather violent circumstance.

"Keep them bottled up around the circle!" Big Smoke bellowed from the porch of his childhood home, his deep but loud delivery somehow managing to pierce a bit of the rising havoc of howls and gunfire. The portly crime lord took a moment to see if the coast was relatively clear before turning his eyes upward, the barrel of his magnum pistol steering towards any of the airborne aggressors that came into his range. "We gotta count on the rifles to cut 'em off before they can get to our cover but we've gotta keep their work simple. Show these fools who runs these streets!"

Batman found it to almost be a relief to dive into the senseless battle now, the weight of the death and mayhem that threatened to explode around him seeming like a mere pittance in comparison to what already burdened him. It was still disturbing to linger over the recognition that he was now fighting alongside gun runners, street soldiers, and drug peddlers, the precise kind of scum and dirty parts of the populace that he had dreamed to rid Gotham of during his years of training around the world. He couldn't guess if this decision was right or wrong but he had no trouble at all convincing himself of the fact that the monstrous beasts had ill intentions for those he would deem worthy of his protection. He knew that people would die if he chose to not take a stand and bring his decades of experience and training to the sticking place.

But there were so many uncertainties, weren't there?

The raucous meeting of flesh on steel rang in Batman's ears as he ducked to avoid the focused charge of a black-skinned, the meaty fist of the musclebound creature putting a good-sized dent in the hood of the Impala that Bruce had his back to only seconds before. His counter was swift, accurate, and ruthless as he used another bladed Batarang to cut into his opponent's Achilles heels with surgeon-like precision. A portion of the yellow blood that flowed from the gaping apertures stained his boots as he moved to capture the stumbling demon in his arms, his right arm strong enough to support the monster to his liking as he brought his left hand to his opponent's throat.

_What if Calvin Besser was able to accomplish what he claimed he wanted to do? _

He knew that Alfred would be annoyed with the inevitable request to rid his gauntlets of the sticky remnants of blood that now marred the black leather. Still, he knew it to be a simple argument as he briefly steered his senses towards following the gunfire, a mere trifle when put in comparison to the other jagged inquiries that awaited him inside his own head.

_What is the meaning behind Donna's prophecy? Just how much truth was behind Markov's words? _

The launching of the gas grenade was a finely calculated risk, the release of the foul-smelling vapor an attempt to distract another smattering of Blood's soldiers from turning their attention to the civilians and soldiers housed within the two-story building on the northwestern end of the circle. The familiar odors of copper and lead briefly filled his nostrils before he managed to slide his gas mask on with his free hand, his efforts to save lives almost putting him straight in the firing line of a rifleman who most likely needed to hastily adjust their aim in order to hit the nearby Fyarl demon with a quality shot to the sternum. A hard kick to the demon's blood-drenched wound dragged a wheezing snarl from the beastly mercenary and a knife-edge chop aimed straight at the blood vessel along the right side of the creature's neck sent Bruce's opponent crashing down to the pavement.

_What do they see in these people that I don't?_

He came only a fraction of a second from having his neck torn into by a vampire-like creature whose mottled skin rippled violently in response to the harsh left hook to the jaw that Batman provided in response. It was a close call, a willing consequence for the moment spent checking on Arrowette's safety.

_How can I protect them? _

A loud _craaaack _sounded off to his left, the audible result of a Grove Street soldier having his neck snapped by a leonine monstrosity that had managed to ensnare the green-clad man in its massive forepaws.

_What can I do?_

Warnings and shouts for vengeance were drown out in a sea of gunfire as the snarling demon fell next to its final victim, its proud head punctured and torn apart by hot lead as the bullet holes oozed out blood that quickly soaked the demon's long mane. Rifle fire claimed two more of Blood's troops while an elephantine-like beast upturned one of the surrounding cars, the hunk of metal unmercifully crashing down on the three men that had looked for safety behind it.

_I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!_

The loud blaring of a car horn rang out from the death and chaos, the vociferousness of the mechanical clamor somehow managing to bring a bit of silence to the hectic proceedings. Of course, that moratorium was quickly abandoned as a practically ancient brown-and-white panel truck rolled through the battlefield, its oversized tires narrowly missing Batman as they and the rest of the massive vehicle rushed past. An already bleeding Fyarl and a pair of spiny-faced Brachen demons were not nearly as fortunate, however, and that particular trio of Neron's shock troopers soon found themselves trampled by the 2,500 pound vehicle as it motored past the edge of Grove Circle before settling at the bottom of the hill that Brother Blood had hoped to serve as his army's outside perimeter of the battle field. The unsightly motor vehicle then made a sharp u-turn as it was set upon by a quartet of demonic-looking sprites, their tiny, fluttering black wings glowing ominously in the slowly rising sun as they apparently attempted to get in the truck's path. This turned out to be a laughably bad mistake however, as a loud _BOOM _erupted from the truck that left two of the evil fairies without important parts of their brains and faces and the other two marred with shrapnel and portions of glass that stuck to them in the wake of the exploding front windshield. It was then, and only then, that a familiar progression of bass notes could be heard from the truck's massive amplifiers that were tackily strapped to the front of the vehicle's rusted hood.

"_Very superstitious, writing's on the wall. . ." _sang the golden tones of Stevie Wonder as Sherman "Sweet" Johnson emerged from his truck. There was a hastily rolled blunt between his lips, the smoke from the joint wafting above his head while his right hand was encumbered with something that appeared to be a cross between a shotgun and a hand cannon.

"_Very superstitious, ladders 'bout to fall. . ." _

He fired the weapon once, twice, three times in succession before tossing the spent weapon back into the cab of his self-proclaimed noble steed, the damage and resulting attention from his work drawing the ire of more than his share of Blood's troops. Nearly a dozen of the beasts were rushing towards Sweet before he made his next move, the little street soldier deftly reaching into a pocket of his green hoodie and removing a wickedly long Bowie knife from it with his left hand. There was dangerous precision in the fast toss as the blade sliced through the neck of the lead attacker, the unlucky Parodius demon tumbling to the pavement before being trampled by its counterparts as they continued their mission to exact vengeance and regain control of one side of the battlefield.

"_When you belieeeeeve in things. . . that you don't understand. Then you sufferaaaaah (boom, boom, boom) superstition ain't the way."_

Sweet just kept nodding his head to the beat as he prepped the Vector semi-automatic machine gun he had strapped to his back. "Better keep up, muthafuckers," he howled as he opened fire into the crowd. "'Cause you ain't gonna take this soldier off his streets that easy."

* * *

Zatanna Zatara took pride in her knack for recognizing the safety level of most situations, particularly when it came to the realm of the supernatural that she had often found herself wandering in since she was a child. Although life as a so-called superheroine often called for a reaction over an action, her decades as a performer had also blessed her with the talent for planning in advance. Anticipating what should go right and what might go wrong was always a big part of her performances, entertainment-based or otherwise, and a lifetime of successes and mistakes had honed those skills to what she liked to believe to be a sharp point. Granted, she wasn't on the level of, say, an obsessive, self-proclaimed forager for justice whose basement file cabinets were loaded with stratagems and contingency programs based to counter thousands of different situations and catastrophes but, still, she was pretty confident when it came to thinking her way through a situation.

For example, let's consider the situation that our relatively good little witch finds herself in now. The minutes that had passed since the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the ominous gateway had escalated what had been a simple skirmish into a significantly dangerous fracas within a potentially unstable dimensional nexus (a nexus that was starting to look more and more like your prototypical purgatory now that Zatanna was really thinking about it). Still, despite the rising odds, it was also quite clear that she and her colleagues appeared to be up to the task. The Black Dog, in particular, had seemed to become nothing less than a typhoon with an unbreakable blade, the raven-haired Brit saying little as he continued to dig into the demonic thrall with the saber in his left hand while summoning energy barriers and eldritch pulse bolts with his right. Even Jason had gotten into the act after a somewhat stilted recovery from his past efforts, the necromancer apparently finding himself in a familiar place as the old man summoned bolts of green flame that tore through the flesh and bones of any opponent that wandered into their path.

All in all, things seemed to be going rather well.

So it wasn't that much of a surprise when fate decided to drop another troublesome matter into their laps.

The tall, stately dressed greater demon seemed to drift through the suddenly appearing portal, his royal-purple robes mixing easily with his deep, blue skin in order to present a creature that demanded attention. Standing just under nine feet at its full height, his lean frame may have been hidden from view under the heavy clothes but the power that resonated through the demon rang clear as day as tendrils of black lightning pooled around him, the electricity brimming from the pools of onyx that served as the greater demon's eyes. The air of condescension continued to run thick as the demon spoke to them in some deep, growling idiom that was completely unknown to Zatanna's ears. The indecipherable words continued as the streams of unholy power spread forward and outward searching for ally and enemy alike.

Zatanna's barrier spell was at the ready when she noticed Lloyd slide in front of her, his saber at hand as the half-demon furiously deflected the thick, jagged strands of energy with the help of the supernatural energy imbued within the silver blade. A thin sliver of irritation stirred in the witch at the thought of being protected but a swift and soft voice in her brain was quick to reach an understanding.

"_Let me handle this one," _The Black Dog silently requested through a hastily established telepathic link while summoning an energy bolt of his own that he sent hurtling at the unknown powerhouse. _"Just try and focus on keepin' the old man in one piece."_

The Justice League's resident magician gave a quick okay before turning her attention to the perimeter of freaks, geeks, and weirdos that were working to surround Jason Blood. _"So do we know who we're dealing with here?" _she asked while unconsciously summoning a telekinetic bolt that threw some of her aggressors aside.

"_My higher up says he goes by the name of Zalbarda," _Lloyd replied just as he was surging forward, his lean frame occasionally blinking in and out of the dimensional plane thanks to a series of quick teleportations that served as an attempt to get closer to his prey. _"One of those elder demons that was roamin' the planet back during the long ago time apparently.." _Another bolt of lightning struck his left arm with just enough force to disarm the half-demon but a stern right hook and a quick bit of telekinesis was enough to bring the _Mugalshir _back to its rightful owner. _"Apparently the fella had quite the reputation of bein' a sycophant, suckin' up to whichever big threat could offer 'im the biggest reward for his services."_

"_So that is how the decrepit fossil wishes to refer to me, is it?" _The unexpected response held an oily andominous candor that startled Zatanna and left Lloyd stumbling to the point where The Black Dog was forced to weather a stiff right hook himself. Two rows of purplish-black teeth emerged from behind Zalbarda's lips as Lloyd stumbled to the ground, the greater demon obviously quick to revel in the satisfaction brought about by his work. _"You shouldn't be so surprised, shell of Za'hafal-nesh. The fetid waste you now lay claim to is not the only one among us who is capable of traversing the thoughts of others." _The eons-old demon waited patiently as Lloyd teleported away instead of rising to his feet, the creature's senses moving just as quickly and fluidly as the lightning that revolved around him.

"_We know this well," _Lloyd's thoughts replied, his joined hands raised just over his right shoulder before he came down with an overhand slash. The attack was startlingly fast, so much so that even Zalbarda was without the capacity to evade it fully as the tip of the _Mugalshir _raked down the edge of his shoulder and tore into a good portion of the immortal's left tricep. _"You would be wise to hold your tongue, beast, else you repeat the same mistakes that forced you to serve what was supposed to be an eternal penance."_

"_Yet another weighty promise that you could not possibly fulfill, Condemner!" _Zalbarda roared into Lloyd's mind while employing a wrist-to-wrist block to keep the human shell from digging his mystic blade into his chest. The brief scuffle briefly wandered through failed offensives and short staves before finally breaking down into a simple collar-elbow tie up, the difference in height easily allowing the full-blooded demon to gain a quick advantage. _"You once denounced my actions and my choice to support the efforts to restore our divine right but now here you are, locked within the fragile flesh of one of the creatures you lost everything to protect." _A portion of the electric tempest that surrounded Zalbarda now seemed to slither around Lloyd's body, the dark energy preventing the Brit from teleporting away while simultaneously bringing the demon's clawed hands closer to his throat.

"_You have already lost, Za'hafal-nesh," _Zalbarda continued to taunt, a triumphant glitter flashing from the deep pools of his eyes. _"There will no further mercy for those who were chosen to squander what we created and brought into being. The lines have been obscured and expanded for far too long."_

A golden energy bolt from Lloyd's quivering right hand crashed into Zalbarda's chest, the move a last-ditch effort that forced the blue-skinned demon to abandon his grip and be hurtled in the opposite direction. The Black Dog was quick to give chase, the jumbled thoughts in his busy mind preventing Zatanna from understanding just what was going on.

_So much for my "thinking before something bad happens" ability, _Zatanna couldn't help but think as the two strongest warriors on the field hurtled out of her sight. "Jason! We could use a clear head here!" she loudly pointed out while using more telekinetic force bolts to get closer to the elder of her two compatriots. "How about you go after the kid and I'll stay here with the. . ."

Loud, piercing howls momentarily dominated the proceedings as the several dozen hellspawn that had surrounded the British necromancer were suddenly and violently thrown aside. Of course, it would only stand to reason that the cause of the unexpected disturbance was something not to be trifled with and the hungry look in the creature's crimson, pupiless eyes only proved that further. His sickly, bright orange-and-brown skin seemed to glow in the surrounding light but the energy around the beast brought more than enough darkness to make up for the luminosity. It's long, pointed ears, sharp fangs, and stock build gave the demon the presence of a warrior that had survived far more strenuous battles than this and that realization had long come to instill fear within its allies and enemies alike, a pair of lists that often seemed to change as frequently as the wind itself.

"Demons. . ." Zatanna finished meekly as she looked upon Etrigan, the darker, demonic half that Jason Blood had been forced to harbor for dozens of centuries. She couldn't help but bite her lip as Neron's troops recovered from the sudden surprise and charged forward once again, their enthusiasm easily matched by the fervor in Etrigan's face as he leapt forward as well. "Damn it. I hate it when I have to be the clear head."

* * *

"You better have done your other jobs before you came out here to make a fool of yoself!" Big Smoke hollered in a vain attempt to chastise his violent lieutenant. "All right! Somebody needs to help his ass out! Get huaargh. . ."

Arrowette had just enough time to twist her body around to catch the sight of the leader of the Grove Street Brothers being violently tossed to the ground, the portly man's velocity as he slid into the grass and sod for a good five feet clearly brought about by a real threat. She learned this fact in even more painful detail as the gray-and-blue blur that had knocked Big Smoke unconscious made its way towards her, the agony of an elbow speeding straight into her abdomen knocking every bit of wind out of her lungs and coercing the archer to drop her bow. To her credit, she did somehow manage to jerk her head back to the point where she wouldn't take the full force of the next strike to come but the force of the wild uppercut still sent her sailing through the air as a thin trickles of blood escaped from her nose as well as her lips as she crashed back-first into the steel fence behind her, the enclosure's weak supports most likely the only thing keeping her from breaking any bones.

"I have had _enough _of your insolence," Sebastian Blood screamed as he moved to ensnare Batman in his undersized hands, the childish tone in his speech a clear giveaway of his lack of grace under fire. On the other hand, such frustration could easily give way to rage and the pallid-skinned monster put that to good use as he weathered the punch to the sternum and the chop to the neck that his prey managed to fire back with before Blood was able to take full control. The immortal's sharp fingernails managed to cut through the hardened leather of the vigilante's cowl before beginning to dig a decent ways into Batman's neck, the strength of the grip forcing Gotham's dark knight to let out a strangled wheeze as the life was quickly choked out of him.

"My master has promised the fulfillment of my greatest desires in return for the heads of you and your wretched family," Blood seethed while shaking his bleeding, suffocating prey back and forth like a rag doll. "You don't deserve the gifts you've received, you measly pile of flesh! I do! I'll take them from you. I'll. . ."

A significantly loud _BOOM _interrupted Blood's manic pledge, the accompanying cluster of bullets and shrapnel tearing into the window of the nearby Impala, scuffing the ancient cement that covered Grove Street and punching through a sizeable portion of the right side of Sebastian's face. It was a precise shot, all things considered, particularly given the fact that Batman remained untouched by the blast and was thus allowed to safely fall free from Blood's clutches and back to the pavement. The tears on both sides of his neck made it quite difficult to breath and the scant remnants of stored mucus that was involuntarily lodged within his trachea only made the endeavor that much less manageable. Thankfully, a sharp pat to his back and shoulders helped the circulation along, the series of wet coughs that followed allowing Batman the time to look up at his rescuer.

"Sorry about the close call," said the man while rising back to his full height of six feet and four inches, his somewhat lean frame comfortably encased in a white wifebeater and some ragged blue jeans. There was a distinct Chicano accent in the greeting and the gunman's light brown skin had clearly been roughened by many long, sun-filled days. His muscular arms sported a small helping of tattoos, the body art sliding as low on the arms as the elbow and as far inward as the man's left shoulder and only accentuated the image of a man who shouldn't be trifled with.

_Some classic gang markings, _Batman noted as his eyes continued to search his still dangerous surroundings. _Some less traditional work too. Maybe something done by the artists up on the East End. _The detective could hear the Chicano asking him if he was all right but the precise launching of a trio of gas grenades easily took precedent over providing a response. _Kid's young, may have been forced into a life of crime just by coming here_, he continued to deduce as he heard two more shotgun shells being fired, the small explosions quickly running with the groan of a Torebyss demon as it fell dead to the pavement.

"Shit! I gotta reload, man," his unexpected partner exclaimed while loosening the wide barrel of the modified shotgun in brawny hands. "Can you get me some cover?"

Batman allowed his actions to speak for him once again, this time in the form of a flash grenade purposely aimed to stun and disorient the nearest demons while being simultaneously placed to avoid the possibility of the Chicano being blinded by the blast. The masked vigilante's caution earned him another round of blurred vision and slightly obstructed hearing as the sight and sound of the mild detonation took a bit of a hold on him but a quick, sideways glance told him that the gunman managed to overcome his own obstructions while proceeding to place the wide, black shells into the gun's loading mechanism. Another quarter-turn and a delivery of a calculated left cross to the left shoulder blade of another Brachen demon later and the sound of the gun firing told Batman that his work had been successful.

The aggrieved vigilante managed to convince himself that the rewards of two other downed members of Blood's troops thanks to the added gunfire were quite worth the stress and strain. On the other hand, the sight of the 15-foot tall, troll-like beast rampaging towards them, its compressed snout frothing and its heavy steps creating significant impressions within the cement and reinforced concrete of the roadway, soon put a damper on any idea of a momentary celebration. Both Batman and the Chicano did their best to ward off the beast, the former with a bladed batarang that sank right between the beast's eyes and the latter with another shotgun blast that only managed to wade an inch or so into the monster's massive belly but still the demon advanced while letting out an ear-splitting roar, the monstrosity's posture clearly indicating that it was preparing to claim its prize.

Then it was hit by what appeared to be a three-quarter full bottle of Cuervo. Then it suddenly looked profoundly confused as the alcohol began to slide down his hair-ridden back, its somewhat addled brain too focused on the odd sensation to even come close to noticing the tiny, white dart that pierced the very outer layer of his massive neck. What the demon did notice, however, was how the phosphorous within the small projectile quickly set the cheap tequila ablaze, the chain reaction soon leading to the massive soldier of Neron becoming engulfed in flame and leaving his burning vocal cords struggling to accurately report his agony.

Bruce Wayne knew who his rescuer was well before he heard the vociferous roar of the familiar VRT-3000 engine that his son had abandoned upon leaving for what Batman hoped to be better and brighter things. That being said, it should have been obvious that the vehicle's current owner would make efforts to claim the motorcycle for his own (after painting the thing a rather trite mixture of red-and-black, of course). He also wasn't the least bit surprised as the daredevil was able to weave his way through the traffic of wrecked cars, corpses, and still bloodthirsty demons with relative ease despite going at a fairly unsafe speed while clutching a well-maintained Uzi in his right hand. Such a gun wasn't designed for accurate shooting but the sight of nearly five dozen bullets punching through the burning remains of the largest of Sebastian Blood's regiment provided even more proof that the rider and gunman loved to prove that he could provide the exception to the rule.

"Damn! I had the strangest dream, boss!" Roy Harper hollered while skidding the chopper to a stop just as his first target of the day finally collapsed to the ground. "I was wandering around without a shirt while sporting some mechanical arms that shot arrows out of some kind of freaky-ass wrist holsters."

The man known as Arsenal took a moment from explaining his tardiness to use the last of his Uzi mag to lay some steady cover fire for the still-recovering Arrowette. The markswoman, in turn, responded with the cheeriest smile she could muster in the midst of her fatigue while continuing to put the sais she carried in her gauntlets to good use in close-quarter combat, her lack of arrows and a functional bow forcing her to switch to a more recently established tactic. Still, despite all his hard work, Roy wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw the annoyed, broody expression that managed to broadcast loud and strong from Bruce's face despite the interference of the familiar cowl.

"Let me tell ya! That is the last time I drink the booze that Steph brought home from Karbarra!" Roy added while concluding his explanation.

* * *

"Ugggggh! Damn it, I need a drink!" Stephanie shouted to the world at large as she shut the double doors once again, the loud _boom _summoned by the force of her pulling providing little satisfaction for the phenomenally cheesed off Green Lantern. "This happens every time I get into a fight with demons!" she noted stridently while examining the red, black, and yellow stains on her vest and bemoaning the holes in her cape that had been created by the acid-like substance that successfully burned through a good portion of the mesh titanium tunic. Yes, the amazingly lucky shot by the toxin-spitting Gullow demon managed to sink into her back and shoulders to the point where she still felt like a rather large slice of sizzling bacon but at least that stuff would heal.

"I do not need to be hearing from Bats about how I ruined another fuckin' cape," Robin continued to grumble while using her ring to create a handkerchief that was roughly the size of her own head. "This is the third cape you've ruined in two weeks, Robin. Now I'm going to have to lecture you about how your uniform is an extension of yourself and you should take better care of it, Robin," she carried on in her best Batman voice while her spectral hankie wiped off as much of the blood and various vital fluids it could from her badly stained armor. "Of course, I'll talk about it some more after I finish sleeping with Selina because she's a skeez whore who demands sex every hour or else she'll get crabby. Imurfalsashnuff but then I'll get broody and I want to slam that big-boobed witch's head through a _friggin' wall_," she said as she finally finished seething, the momentary muffling of her rant coming when her solid light handy wipe had swept over her face and lips.

"All right, calm down, girl," Stephanie finally reasoned after taking several deep breaths. "Got some more work to do after all." The Green Lantern shut down her eldritch cleaning utensil in order to assign her Oan-made power supply to a far more prudent operation. It only took a fraction of a second to find the bulk of the heartbeats to be found in the monastery and even less time for Stephanie to speed her way towards the signs of human life, her flight through the darkened halls of the holy ground only slightly impeded by the brick walls and cramped stairwells. Coming to a stop in front of what appeared to be a dead end, she swiped back an errant strand of blonde hair before reaching forward to grab the handle of the mystically concealed door and swinging it open. The brief moments of panic from the several dozen children, staff, and clergy inside was to be expected but some quick shushing from the more knowledgeable members of the group quickly put those unnecessary fears to rest.

"Thank goodness," Naomi Mitchell said with a relieved tone while stepping forward to examine the guardian of the monastery she had come to call home. "Are you hurt?" she asked, the veteran physician paying particular attention to the portions of recovering skin and muscle that still partially covered the younger woman's back.

"Eh, nothing a little dry cleaning and duct tape won't cure," Stephanie replied in her usual carefree manner. "Is everybody who hasn't left all present and accounted for?"

Naomi nodded quickly. "As far as we know. Caleb has gone to assist the members of the coven responsible for maintaining the wards and Lian insisted on traveling with him."

Stephanie's protective instincts were quick to appear in response to that. "You sure that was safe, Doc?" she asked, the suspicion in her tone prompting Naomi to look somewhat confused.

"I saw no complaint at the time. Brother Caleb has always been quite protective of Roy's daughter. Besides, she would be just as safe with the coven as she would be here."

There was little doubt that Robin was prepared to voice her disagreements to that conclusion but her efforts to do so was cut short by a round of soft, almost gentle laughter. The horrified gasp that leaked from Naomi's lips only raised Stephanie's reservations as she quickly turned around to take in the sight of a man in coal-black minister's robes stumbling towards them. The portions of the upper half of his body that wasn't marred by enormous cuts was sullied by horrific first and second-degree burns, the leaking blood slipping into the warped bubbling skin to create a disgusting tableau that encouraged Stephanie to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Brother Benedict," Naomi whispered pitifully. "We were told. . . we were told you were dead." Her steps forward were unconscious efforts, a well-established instinct to rush to the aid of those in need but her movement was cut short as Robin stuck out an arm to keep her from advancing further.

"Hold up, Doc," Robin said in a faint but determined tone, her pale, blue eyes locked on the calm countenance staring back at her. "That is very much not a man of God."

The badly burnt lips of Benedict Gregor twisted upwards into a hideous smile before his body began to shift even further. The skin stretched to an inhuman degree as the somewhat diminutive body of the late holy man grew to a height that couldn't be matched by a mere human alone. His body rapidly expanded outward as well, the sudden growth easily destroying the remnants of the man's simple, black robes as bones lengthened and muscles grew and expanded to meet the demands of an eight-foot, 470-pound frame. The once pallid skin changed as well, the flesh growing darker and darker until it was almost a crimson-like shade of red, a tone that contrasted nicely with the stylish Armani suit the demon had chosen to wear beneath his elaborate glamour. The ensemble was one of many such forms of attire tailored to not only meet the tastes of a man who had long sought to receive the finer things in life but also was large and elaborate enough to appropriate present the enormous threat he had become.

"Decidedly not," Ishmael Gregor coolly replied.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Blah blah sorry for being late blah de blah blah I have a busy life blah de blah de blah please review because I'm a shameless whore for feedback.

There, that about covers the usual spiel for this section. Now let's get to the good stuff!

First of all, I would like to thank DC Comics for its great work in expanding their base of everyday readers with its revolutionary writing style and cutting-edge storylines. After all, who _doesn't _want to read a story where Star City gets destroyed for the third time in five years (man, I would hate to see the price for home insurance in that town now) and allow us to see Green Arrow holding his grandaughter's body in the rubble. We want gritty realism and dark, depressing tales, DiDio damn it! We want stories more stories about women being touted about as nothing more than blow-up dolls with emotional issues, dead teenagers and children being mauled and maimed and tortured. 'Cause that's REAL, man! We have to deal with stuff like that _every day_!

Yeah. . .

So, in conclusion, screw Dan DiDio, fuck James Robinson and if any of you were foolish enough to buy _Cry for Justice _kindly ship them to my address so that I may piddle on the paper. Because given the dearth of quality writing to be found there and in many others that DC has to offer, I imagine the literary talent in my urine would drive up the resale value.

Okay, I'm done. Enjoy your next issue preview!

* * *

_Issue #95 Preview_

Does Arsenal have what it takes to take on Sebastian Blood? Can Lloyd manage the unenviable task of taking on The Condemner's old rival while Zatanna finds herself forced to handle Neron's demonic troops as well as a rampaging Etrigan? Will Robin be able to persevere in the wake of the power of Sabbac? And isn't Sabbac supposed to be dead? Come to think of it, doesn't Etrigan have to be summoned by Jason in order to appear?

And why is this entire issue preview made up entirely of questions?

Find out the answers to most of these pointed inquiries in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Old Wounds and New Pathways. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	95. Old Wounds and New Pathways

Issue #95

Old Wounds and New Pathways

"So soft these mercies of yon young of heart, their flesh and souls so simply ripped apart. Death's mercy lies under Slepinir's hooves as eternity culls the improper moves."

Perhaps it was possible to see a kind of visceral art in Etrigan's work as the eons-old demon moved to eliminate every demon and mercenary under Neron's sway that he could get his aged claws upon. The hellfire that spewed from his extended maw ran fast but thick, the forever-burning flame quick to do its damage to the far younger hell spawn around him. The path between him and the human witch was still mildly obstructed but the darker half of Jason Blood did not look upon the impediments as a possible source of frustration. The inferior beasts were simply a delicious means to an end, an appetizing avenue he was free to travel in order to relieve his unenviable frustrations stemmed from being trapped in the thrall of a simple bag of meat and bone.

"Long closed gates now lay ajar, inviting threats from near and far," Etrigan continued while employing his razor-sharp claws to flay at the hard skin of a golem-like Gravolem demon. The mammoth beast let out a sick bellow as the shell of rock covering its face was quickly splintered and black blood began to spurt from the gaping wounds. The pain put a smile on Etrigan's face and that enthusiasm stayed on its fearsome countenance as it grabbed the giant beast before it could stumble down to the ground. "Some old, some familiar, some hellions of might shall hunt their rewards on this near blackest night." he declared while using the nearly four-ton creature to crush or swat aside a sizeable portion of his remaining opposition.

"Well, I, for one, am getting tired of this highfalutin' chatter," Zatanna shouted back, her next round of clever sorcery turning a Pantrok demon into a harmless house cat and a bat-like hell beast into a flock of doves that soared down to pester another small helping of Neron's soldiers. "Now why are you here, to commit unspeakable acts, I gatheraaaah!"

The oldest friend of Bruce Wayne nearly stumbled to the ground while narrowly avoiding the claws of a mauve-colored demon that seemed to be frothing some kind of brownish liquid from its toothy maw. "I guess that's what I get for trying to play your game," the witch reasoned. "Noitcetorp!" she then cried to summon a force barrier to ward off the next attack and then expanding it to send the repulsive looking creature stumbling back.

"How now, _elttil rerujnoc_, you do not belong within this crimson orchestra and unholy song," Etrigan proclaimed while casting himself into an enormous bound that brought the orange-skinned demon to within inches of Zatanna's stocking-clad legs. "Your source is too pure despite deeds appalling, yet still you remain your presence quite galling."

"Nummos onrefni!" Zatanna shouted back in response, her words surrounding both the witch and her unusual partner within a maelstrom of heat and flame that the remains of Neron's foes tried and failed to breach. "Are you saying that I don't belong down here with you and your big, bad demons, Etrigan? Because I've got a few words that can help you change that argument in a hurry."

Etrigan responded to the defiant Justice Leaguer with an easy smile as the loud crack of a thunderbolt shook the expansive battlefield, an odd circumstance given that the source of the lightning was nearly a half-mile away. The demon continued to enjoy himself as Zatanna's wall of flames finally receded, thus allowing him to tear into the creatures anew. His old, wretched blood was singing as he continued his murder and mayhem that prompted blood, muscle, and gristle to stain and pool around and on the surrounding ruby-colored rocks below. "The thief of lightning strikes with fury, ten-thousand years to build his worry," he continued to muse while easily shaking off the effects of an ogre attempting to cave his head in with its war club. "His mighty lot cast with the grand pretender, his slightest mistake will bring life's December."

If the stress and strain brought about by casting so many spells in so short of a time span wasn't enough to give Zatanna Zatara a headache then the task of wrapping her head around the tortuous couplets was more than happy to pick up the physiological slack. "Wait a minute! So you're saying that this Zalbarda guy made a pact with Neron to get out of his own judgment?" she both asked and hypothesized while summoning another spray of electric energy that warded off the demons to her left. "And I don't belong here. . . so does the eldritch interference have to do with people who are hybrids? Like part-demons?"

A tooth-laden grin and a jet of brimstone-scented flame that incinerated the two demons to her right served as Zatanna's initial reward. "Such a clever girl with stalks appealing, and woe to those who dispute my meaning," Etrigan replied while using his stumpy but powerful right arm to snap the neck of the last of Neron's available troops. "Confused covenants shall meet an unspeakable fine for those who resist the rights of wretched souls like mine."

* * *

It was during his first day working for Boris Zhurkov when Ishmael Gregor had learned the greatest lesson a monster could be taught. He was a boy of thirteen then, a common lower-class youth trying desperately to do something other than survive while trolling the streets of Uzbekistan, a Russian war orphan with no home and no one even trying to find him one. He believed he had found a possibility to become something great by finding the man who claimed to run the city's criminal element, some lucky reject from the Russian mafia who had managed to stumble upon territory that no truly dangerous criminal had interest in. Ishmael could still remember the air of desperation in the man's demands and orders, that palpable reek of anguish that his own mind wasn't able to pick up until just before he left the poor fool bleeding to death with only the corpses of his wife and three children to keep him company.

But the fact remained that Boris Zhurkov had taught him something quite valuable and that lesson came about on the first day as he looked in on the man's attempts to shake some information from some common factory worker concerning the location of some desired property. Apparently Boris had heard that the laborer was deathly afraid of rats and, with this knowledge in mind, asked one of his lieutenants to fetch one of the more rabid examples of vermin to be found on the city streets. Ishmael could remember the stench of the steel bucket that was brought in and the dry, stale sweat of the factory worker that began to flow when he was shown the container's contents. Then that bucket was flipped onto the man's stomach so that the large, black rat would be trapped inside and oh how the screams of that man would keep him up nights for months on end upon hearing that piercing yell.

But that still wasn't enough. Zhurkov didn't receive the information he wanted so he decided to continue down this perverse route. Another lieutenant, one who apparently had some skill in handling an acetylene torch, was summoned to bring a bluish-red flame roaring near the top of the steel pail, increasing the temperature inside the makeshift prison higher and higher. The rat, working on the most powerful instincts it possessed, sought for survival anyway he could find it. He began to dig, its dull but still efficient paws tearing into the screaming man's abdomen.

It turned out that the worker had no knowledge of whatever Zhurkov was looking for (remember, old Boris was not the most competent of criminals) but the fact remained that the nameless drudge would have given up anything: his money, his family, and everything else he ever loved just to preserve his own safety in that one, particular moment and _that_ was something worth remembering.

The power of fear.

Sabbac could taste that force as it wafted from the hearts of the men, women, and children trapped within the secret passageway. The souls of the immortal tricksters, Belial, Chaos and Beelzebub drank it all in and added strength to his already potent physique, the magic in his bestial frame bubbling and frothing in anticipation of being brought to bear on the one creature that did not add to what he desired.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but didn't my big brother chop you up into eeny, weeny, teeny, tiny bite-size pieces?"

The young Green Lantern did not show a trace of apprehension as she greeted Sabbac with a disdainful glare, the stubborn but unfettered will broadcast by the girl's actions simultaneously offending and amusing the street punk turned greater demon. "Surely the shell of The Condemner would realize that it is not quite that simple to eliminate an immortal," Gregor patiently reminded his target, the combination of his deep, Russian burr and the growl that seemed to run hand-in-hand with the tone of a demon making his words sound that much more condescending. "I recognize that my defeat at the hands of your 'Black Dog' proved to be quite the setback but that absence has allowed me to acquire a greater understanding of the magnificent power in my possession."

Robin replied to the threatening words with a simple cock of her head, the same expression that Lian had fired back at Caleb when the preacher had wanted her to answer a stupid question. "And all that's for. . . what? Getting chopped up into slower, larger bits this time?"

Sabbac provided the scurrilous intergalactic warrior with a patient smile. "Your eyes are shifting quickly, _tovarisch_. You are searching for a way to get these people out safely, yes?" The spurious grin on the demon's face soon shifted to one of hungry contentment as Robin responded with a growl. "Do not worry, little one. They are merely leverage for what I truly wish to claim."

"And that is?" asked Stephanie while lowering herself into a customary Hapkido stance, her right hand and the Oan power ring it carried just inches in front of her left fist.

"The satisfaction of presenting Mister Wayne and Mister Thomas with your charred, dismembered corpse, of course," Sabbac replied evenly. "I will admit that this was not my principal goal when I took efforts to infiltrate these hallowed grounds but the gentlemen you care so much for took something quite valuable from me and now I will be more than happy to return the favor."

Stephanie flashed her gritted teeth as she ran the space between her and the confident demon, her familiar energy claws forming and extending from her hands as she moved. In response, Sabbac made no movement as the Green Lantern traveled 15 feet in a second, the champion of countless amoral beings almost amused to see how this circumstance would play out. His nonchalance remained even as Robin slid to a quick stop, her spectral fangs fading away as she concentrated the power of her Oan power ring into creating an emerald force bubble around Sabbac's still form, the efforts prompting Gregor to adopt a curious air as he observed his hastily made prison.

_First point to her, I suppose_, Sabbac noted to himself while maintaining his patient air.

"Get these people out of here, Doc!" Robin yelled in the hopes of spurring the terrified people behind her to action. She wanted to let out a sigh of relief as Naomi quickly recovered herself and began organizing the several dozen other residents of the monastery. "I can take this guy down just so long as you guys aren't here!"

"Is that right?" asked Sabbac, the denigrating smirk once again making itself present on Gregor's crimson, drawn-out features. "You have quite the trickster in you, Stephanie Brown. It is an element that Satan himself would quite appreciate."

The sweat glands on Robin's forehead that had just finished drying up began to spur themselves anew, the stress of caging such a powerful creature quickly beginning to show. "Glad I impressed your providers, Yakov," Stephanie fired back with as much of a sneer as she could manage. "You think Neron might offer me a job too if I ask him nice?"

"Perhaps," noted Sabbac, the demon's thin note of mirth indicating that Gregor did not care in the least about hiding the identity of his eventual rescuer. "However, tricksters such as you should also recognize that sacrifice can only reap a certain type of reward."

Robin ran her tongue over the tips of her teeth, the move serving as both a cocky aside and as a way to help her take her mind off of the escalating pain. "Who says I'm sacrificing myself, chief?"

Sabbac's tawny eyes glimmered in response to the egotistical claim.

"You did. You chose to seal your own fate at that moment when you recognized that this was a battle you could not win."

Stephanie let out a harsh yell as Sabbac gathered a sizeable dosage of his reservoir of supernatural energy and focused it upon a single, solitary point. It was a smart, concentrated attack that was enough to shatter Robin's emerald force barrier and the agony that the Green Lantern suffered in response unconsciously prompted the fighter to clamp her hands against her temples to block it out. It wasn't enough to bring the Gothamite to her knees but the only reward she received for that was a better look as Sabbac spun around to face the far western end of the corridor. The reddish-brown bolt of flame that escaped from his open maw was merciless in its precision, the heat melting the flesh and bones of the two men and one child that had failed to escape in time.

"NO!" Stephanie's scream was sharp and desperate as she willed herself to move. There was no mercy in her as she plunged her energy claws into Sabbac's open back, the two innermost talons burning through the scalded husk that was Gregor's heart and leaving the demon to let out a low but loud agonized grunt. "You fucking monster!"

The black blood spurted from Sabbac's chest like a spasmodic sprinkler as the demon reached around his back to grab both of Robin's arms within his massive right hand. He could feel the burn of the claws threatening to spread outward to the borders between his chest and arms but the pressure his long fingers placed on the girl's wrist flexors was able to bring the pulling to a slow stop.

"Not monster. Demon," Gregor shrewdly replied while pushing Stephanie back with his grip and simultaneously pulling himself free of the Green Lantern's claws. The sudden opening provided by his airborne adversary allowed Sabbac to counter with a harsh kick to the gut, the force of the punt enough to send Robin crashing through the stone wall separating the corridor from the secret passageway where she skidded across the stone floor into the row of heavy, oak benches that sat on the left side of the chamber. The girl's velocity was enough to send quite a few of the benches flying right along with her until she was finally brought to a stop thanks to another stone wall on the far western side of the room, the shattered seats raining down jagged bits of wood that fell on and around the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns. It was certainly a painful happenstance, an event that kept Robin still and motionless for as long as her will and stubbornness would allow her to stay in traction (a grand total of two-and-a-half seconds) before she charged after her poised opponent once again.

The next gambit began with a solar flare-like blast that rewarded Stephanie with a glimmer of an advantage that she quickly used to land a solid right hook to Gregor's extensive jaw. It was a good shot given the time allowed but it was weak enough to allow Sabbac to recover quickly and use his own momentum to fire back with a spinning, left-handed chop that caught Robin right between the tendons that linked her right shoulder and neck. The fair-haired Gothamite recognized the move as a Sambo-style strike, the knowledge gleaned after many hours of training with Kara as the half-Kryptonian was learning to master that particular fighting style from the brusque instructions of Nigel Thornton. She also recognized that the style often stressed the importance of power and length, physical elements that Sabbac's massive frame obviously had in spades, in order to wrangle the opponent into some kind of restraining hold that would incapacitate the criminal (or allow you to use your unholy flame to immolate your prey, depending upon who you were talking about). That risk acknowledged, Robin decided to put her superior speed to good use as she ducked under a sweeping right hook before flipping upward into a somersault kick that caught Sabbac directly on the underside of his nose. Then, demonstrating her skill in keeping with her own momentum, she took flight while tucking her body and twisting through a tight back flip before following up while rolling backwards and followed the precise strike up with a missile dropkick that had enough force behind it to send Sabbac screaming to the far side of the chambers, his massive body crashing through both the front lectern and the massive, wooden cross that loomed above it.

Both fighters allowed themselves some time to breathe as Sabbac hefted himself back to his massive, four-toed feet. The demon took a moment to admire his surroundings and allowed a chuckle to slip from his lips that kept with him as he had looked down at the rubble until he chose to return his attention to his bristling foe. "I didn't think that it would come to this," Gregor noticed as he extended his left palm forward just as the hilt of the suddenly appearing blade fell into it. The sword was a heavy, beastly thing, its wide, cutting edge extending to a degree where the thing looked like something from a video game. Unfortunately, the ease in which Sabbac was able to swing the blade back and forth was quite real and Robin couldn't help but back up a fraction of a step while taking in this new circumstance.

"Awwwww, isn't that sweet. Neron gives his people prezzies." Stephanie sneered as she prepared her energy claws once again.

Gregor slowly shook his head back and forth while waggling a finger in the Green Lantern's direction. "Not a present, little one. Just a slight piece of what will soon be my grand inheritance."

* * *

_Gotham – Grove Street_

"No."

The single word was spoken with obstinate determination as Roy Harper continued to go about his duties. Taking measures to avoid the bullet-ridden corpse of the green-skinned, spade-tongued demon he had just put an end to, he quickly darted his dark blue eyes back and forth, his quick senses allowing the sharpshooter to perform a quick but precise search of the unexpected theater of war. He didn't manage to find what he was looking for but he did manage to draw the attention of a zombie-like beast that happened to be sporting a rather nice suit (although the deathly pale skin and the stitched together lips did little to accentuate the custom threads). The floating monstrosity came at him fast and with a purpose but Arsenal was expecting such an approach and countered in kind, the weapons expert easily taking down the sallow-faced monstrosity with a leaping STO that left the back of the demon's head to slam into the pavement while the rest of its battered body simultaneously provided padding for Roy as he fell on top of him. The force of Harper's 190-pound frame was enough to stun the demon but any effort to recover itself was quickly cut short as Roy stood up and pulled a shotgun from a holster strapped to his back.

"No."

Some of the metal stitches crashed against Roy's face as the demon's face exploded beneath him from the force of the blast. He couldn't be certain if the violent display was what attracted the three demons nearby to rush at him but it wasn't as if the former Teen Titan could or would take too much time to worry about such things. Recognizing the situation, he fired the second shell straight into the neck and upper chest of the beast in the middle of the pack before rolling to his left. The maneuver bought him just enough time to duck under the opening punch fired by the opponent now across from him, a gelatinous-looking organism whose elongated arms allowed it to easily reach far enough so that its left hand crashed against the pavement even as its head still stood straight on its shoulders six feet above the ground. Of course, the lengthy limbs also made it that much more difficult to respond to a quick counterattack and Roy went about proving that by ramming the butt of his shotgun into the beast's gut. He followed up with a swiping strike that targeted the elastic monster's right hand, a hand that just happened to be wielding a wickedly sharp looking blade that looked like some kind of scythe with a shortened handle and was something that Arsenal figured he could use.

"No."

The wanted weapon was still in the air when Roy landed a thrust kick that allowed his right heel to ram straight into the jaw of his latest opponent, the force and accuracy behind his strike sending his adversary crashing down while still buying him enough time to rid himself of his empty shotgun and make a play for the abandoned blade with his right hand. Grasping the unusual toy with an almost uncanny expertise, he awaited the arrival of the third demon, a snake-like Arbos demon, that slithered across the decaying pavement Dodging the opening lunge with a simple vertical leap, the former heroin addict continued to ply his trade by running the blade of the scythe down the creature's long back, the tearing of flesh and spilling of blood forcing the Arbos demon to let out an ungodly hiss as it began to lurch to the ground under the weight of Roy and its own agony.

"Nyet, nein, and non, non, non!" Roy announced while pulling his right hand back and slitting the demon's massive gullet, the spurts of greenish-black blood left to stain the already messy battleground as Arsenal moved to look for his desired prize once again. Growing more and more frustrated by his lack of success, he abandoned his sickle while using his strong legs to leap onto the hood of the nearest parked car.

"Oh, pale faced, blood-drinking, emo-acting Edward Cullen wannabe!" he shouted while placing his favorite Colt .45 firmly within his right hand. "Where are yoooooou?" came the playful though vociferous question as Roy quickly emptied the clip in the heads, necks, and kneecaps of any demon he felt like shooting. Still finding himself annoyed, he kept one eye on keeping track of reloading his gun and the other on the battlefield as he continued to look for a blur, a glint, or anything else that might help zero in on him.

"Gotcha."

Sebastian Blood was only a brief dash away from having a straight shot at Arrowette's blind side when a trio of bullets sliced through the right side of his skull, the slight apertures only making the immortal's previous wounds that much more difficult to recover from. He was shot three more times before he could even figure out where the previous attack was coming from and the agony brought about by the painful follow-up was enough to make him briefly stumble and collapse onto one knee. "How? How. . ." he murmured as he rose to his feet, the immortal flabbergasted that he had been thrown out of his hyperacclerated state.

"'Cause I'm just that damn good," Arsenal replied as he met the rising Blood with a leaping kick to the head, the former Checkmate assassin managing to sprint his way around the crowded battlefield with surprising ease. "And then there's the fact that I've been looking for you for quite a long time."

There was an undeniable hunger in Blood's eyes as he blurred away, the creature's impressive speed almost immediately bringing him to Roy's back. _I may not know you but I will make certain that you will regret your idiocy, _the teen thought with a smirk while rushing forward at a speed that he knew his unanticipated opponent couldn't have matched. Therefore, it stood to reason that it was impossible that Blood was soon having his face slammed into the gravel, the messy meeting between dead flesh and cement courtesy of a blind drop-toe hold that the all-too-human sharpshooter had somehow managed to dish out in time. Similarly, there was no way that Arsenal was quick enough to both line up his shot and put two bullets through the small of Blood's back and the implausibility within the moment when the vampire-like demon was then struck with a bullet to the right butt cheek was just so high that it should have been considered lunacy just to consider it.

Arsenal took in the look of shock on his opponent's face and smiled as he cartwheeled towards a broken looking Impala, his left hand already reaching into a familiar hip pocket. "To quote a certainly famous but fictional blue hedgehog," he fired back while loading his revolver with phenomenal ease. "'You're too slow!'".

The hunger quickly escalated into rage as Blood leapt onto the hood of the Impala in order to gain the higher ground. It was certainly a wise move but not nearly as astute as Arsenal's move to dislodge the car's antenna with his left foot. Wielding the flexible metal rod like a whip, the weapons expert swung at his own eye level and struck Blood at the spot of muscle just below his left knee, the fastidiously-placed strike stunning the far stronger opponent and leaving him wide open for a wraparound follow-up that caught Sebastian's right Achilles heel. It was a tricky combination, even for somebody as proficient with weaponry as Roy Harper and the red-haired vigilante had to cast his body into a tight spin just to hit the move properly and thus leave Blood in the position where his knees were threatening to buckle. On the other hand, the clockwise spin also allowed Arsenal to work up the physical impetus he needed to put enough strength in his spinning heel kick to force his opponent off of his feet and back-first onto the already dented Impala.

Blood weathered the pain shooting through his body with vehemence since the only other alternatives were either fear or disbelief. He let that anger carry him as he rolled backward to stand on the opposite side of the car, his bloody and bruised body healing itself rapidly even as his irritating opponent continued to catch him with gunshots to both shoulder blades.

"Well, maybe you aren't too slow," Roy mused as he momentarily ceased fire to deliver a sneer worthy of his adopted father. "Maybe you're just too slow where it counts," he hypothesized while taking a moment to tap the barrel of his gun against his left temple. "Still, the fact remains that there are five healing holes in my chest that are all telling me to keep hurting you so that's just what I'm gonna do."

* * *

It was all becoming a game of inches now.

Lloyd had stopped bothering to count the number of rays and beams of black and golden light that now stood between him and his aged adversary. Quite frankly, it was more than enough to keep track of the scene as a whole. If it wasn't the importance of making certain to intercept each blast of lightning with a dose of his own magic then it was making damn sure to continue looking for a way to pierce Zalbarda's defenses and send his own attack on through. Still, all the permutations of those conflicts had helped turn the half-mile between The Black Dog and Zalbarda into an exceedingly deadly light show with dozens upon dozens of attacks and shields and counter shots designed to play just a small morsel of a grand but simple plan.

"_Be careful, teishu_," The Condemner murmured within Lloyd's head, the spirit of the immortal well aware of how much of a presence he could have until it distracted his host. _"He wishes to overwhelm your senses in an attempt to take advantage of whatever magic is at work here. It would be nigh impossible to win this way."_

"I know that!" The Black Dog snarled back while creating an energy shield that managed to parry off a pair of lightning bolts just before they could strike him. Frustration had never been a good tool for him but it's what he had left as he sent the _Mugalshir_ soaring through the maze of energy. His mind seemed to let out a complaint in response to the added burden but the lack of a demon's voice in his head was more than an acceptable return for his work. The sight of his saber barely missing its target as it zoomed across the battlefield provided another boon, if only because it cut the energy struggle short and left him with the opportunity to teleport across the backwash and deliver a hard spinning back fist that cracked the demon's protrusive jaw and sent him twisting away for a good two dozen feet before Zalbarda was able to bring his body under control.

"What a delicious circumstance," Zalbarda remarked as the tip of his long, thin-muscled tongue stretched above his upper lip. The green appendage slathered across the blood and sweat to be found there before collecting it and delivering it back to his throat. "The battle has only just begun and yet your shell is already prepared to lose control." There was a cool confidence in the demon's countenance as he met Lloyd's sudden, forward rush with one of his own. It wasn't long at all before the close combat began in earnest, the two demonic entities trading punches, blocks, kicks and parries by the dozens in the span of just a minute, their offenses and defenses buoyed by decades upon decades of lessons and instructions that could only be found and properly employed on a battlefield. Lloyd's fast but still well-controlled swordplay and tendencies to take control of a battle meshed well with Zalbarda's mostly defensive-based array of faints and faraway energy bolts to create a visual spectacle whose power taxed the structural integrity of the surrounding primordial plane of energy.

"_It appears that your shell is willing to learn but not to listen," _Zalbarda informed his old rival within the shared telepathic link. _"The_ _skin is willing and wise yet the heart lacks conviction." _The clash reached a hint of a stalemate as the greater demon caught Lloyd's left wrist just as the boy was attempting to lash his blade across Zalbarda's chest while The Black Dog countered Zalbarda's palm thrust with his unencumbered right hand. _"This husk is far too tainted with the drudgery of reality to truly recognize the glory that both of us seek."_

"STOP TALKING TO HIM!" Lloyd roared while employing all of his strength to free his left hand from Zalbarda's grasp. He couldn't even begin to understand why he had bent the fingers of his weak hand before slashing at his opponent but he could still smell the black blood and blue skin on his fingertips as Zalbarda pulled away, a sanctimonious smirk radiating from what was left of the demon's face after Lloyd had attempted to literally tear apart the greater demon with his own hands. "You'll speak to me, demon!" the Brit proclaimed as his purely silver eyes blazed with determination. "I am the one in control!"

"Are you now?" asked Zalbarda, the eons-old persuader of men not bothering to hide his doubt. "Well, perhaps you will reconsider such a claim as the rest of this tale continues to unfold. That being said, you would do well to remember the lessons to be learned today, shell of Za'hafal-nesh, and perhaps that will convince you to take greater care in recognizing your own surroundings." The demon's face was already fully restored and he seemed to take some satisfaction in that as the long fingers of his right hand stroked his hairless, turquoise chin. "Or, more appropriately, recognizing just what is surrounding you."

The Black Dog did not bother to try to make a last effort as Zalbarda faded from sight, the standing presence of the greater demon's magic having already been quite present since before the soothsayer had begun his last hint of parting advice. Likewise, he did not need to turn around to realize that Zatanna was approaching his back or that Etrigan had momentarily taken over the body of his host, his two mystic companions apparently completing their work before his own opponent had chosen to withdraw.

"You all right, Lloyd?" Zatanna inquired. The witch's right hand was elevated to eye level, the Justice Leaguer clearly torn between whether or not she should physically approach her formerly volatile colleague. "You in there?"

Lloyd tried hard not to notice the trepidation in the voice of the woman that had been nothing but kind to him.

_Why do they always end up afraid? _

"I'm all right," he finally replied while turning to face Zatanna's baby blues and taking comfort in the relief that came back from them. "Well, in the grand scheme of things, I suppose," he reconsidered as his ears picked up the sound of an almost sinister chortling. "And just wot are you so giddy about, Fang?"

Etrigan ceased his mild laughter and looked back at Lloyd in the manner much as a bird would if they ever saw a mouse that had learned to fly. "Amusement abounds this appealing fortaste, amidst the ego and deceit and wretched haste. The false king's deceit casts the harsh light of truth, where boy defeats man as self-worth lies aloof."

An understandable shared look between him and Zatanna preceded Lloyd's next hypothesis. "Well, my superiority over your human half aside, are we safe to assume that Neron is attempting to use his own power to affect half-bloods. People like me and Jason." The slow nod Etrigan provided in return pushed The Black Dog's thoughts forward as the half-demon quirked his lips. "So, if we're going about the idea of supernatural thaumogenesis, the idea that magic taken from one source is subsequently given to another, then it's pretty bloody likely that Neron's stooge is a red-blooded human turned part-demon."

Etrigan was ready to provide more but Zatanna threw her own thoughts in. "And if Neron can pick and choose who he draws energy from then that means that whoever signed that contract on this side did so willingly."

The alleged agent of Lucifer's bane cast a decidedly rueful glare upon the talkative sorceress before saying his peace. "Thine succulent lips belie manners most foul. Your conduct and timing twould make a monk howl. Your kind, gentle spirit may save you these days but do not bank my mercy on such silky legs."

Lloyd at least had the presence of mind to hold in his laughter as Zatanna's justifiable anger tempted the sorcerers to respond to the demon's words with a stormy countenance of her own. "Just great," she grumbled while placing her hands on her hips. "I save the day, and Jason's bacon, may I remind you. I burn, spindle, and mutilate a couple dozen demons and the only attention I garner is directed straight at my legs."

"Well, 's not like ya make a great deal of effort to cover 'em up, Glinda," Lloyd playfully offered back, his mischievous tone earning him a pointed glare from the stocking-clad witch and an almost placid smirk from the darker half of Jason Blood. The fairly pleasant demeanor held itself strong as a definitive shift in the magic around them made its presence felt, the magnitude of it enough to draw the attention of the two younger explorers of the supernatural as they turned to meet the source of it.

Etrigan, quote obviously expecting such attention, made no effort to quell the flickers of hellfire at his feet. "It appears my merriment has run its course so now I shall leave you with little remorse," announced the demon while performing as grateful of a curtsy as possible when stuck within his decidedly bulky physique. "Fate's fortune beckons me for one, final tale and so I will brook this last warning to hale." The almost smarmy, confident smirk made another return, the demon's jagged teeth and black lips radiating with a seemingly amoral gleam as the owner of the body and mind itself pointed a long, ragged finger in the direction of Lloyd's chest. "Remember the warnings both mocking and kind, your years, they do sully a fine, fragile line. Choose your path, sun or night, and never again will you leave the warm thoughts of I, Etrigan."

There was no light or smoke or other theatrics to be had as the proud but dangerous demon collapsed to the ground. The creature's skin was growing lighter and softer even as Zatanna rushed to check on her erstwhile partner, the transformation from beast to man looking remarkably simple as the familiar face of Jason Blood appeared before Lloyd and Zatanna's eyes. A quick check of the old wizard's pulse revealed a faint but steady heartbeat but the utter exhaustion that framed the face of the millennia-old necromancer made it quite clear that the host of Etrigan was not about to awaken anytime soon.

"We should get back," Zatanna said sagely. "There's nothing more that we can do here."

"Agreed," Lloyd replied, his body remaining still even as Zatanna prepared the teleportation spell that would lead them back to Zatara Manor. The motivation to disagree with the elder magician's claim was certainly there within his turbulent thoughts but the half-demon managed to stifle that urge as his body turned immaterial in preparation for moving from one plane of reality to another.

_There is something I can do_, he couldn't help but realize as he faded out of sight.

* * *

"I gotta admit that those are some sweet speakers, man," Cecilia hollered over the pulse of Ludacris's _Stand Up _while simultaneously catching the teeth-first lunge of a Mawoldi demon with the sai in her right hand. There was a dangerous smile on Arrowette's face as she punched the other blade through the middle of the creature's lengthy gullet, the trio of short blades ripping through skin and muscle and sliding against dozens upon dozens of teeth as she pulled the sai forward through the rough impediments. It had taken some time for her, Batman, and the Chicano to get to where they would be able to give Big Smoke's muscle some necessary assistance but the "worthless noise", as Batman had put it, helped inspire the Olympic-caliber archer to get her part of the job done. "That being said, Stevie Ray Vaughan's version of _Superstition _is still waaaay better than Stevie Wonder's," she claimed while looking for something else to skewer. "And it don't matter how loud you try and play it."

"Man! Fuck you and fuck that guitar-playin', copycat cracker bitch," Sweet spat back while unloading the contents lodged within the barrel of his most recently acquired shotgun straight into the chest of an armored-plated beast that looked like a cartoon turtle with its shell facing the wrong way. "Get the fuck out my face Raphael or whoever the shit you supposed to be!" he added while taking advantage of his opponent's stunned state and plunging his last hunting knife through the unprotected back of the demon in an attempt to pierce what he hoped was the monstrosity's heart. "And I don't care how good he is with that guitar but he ain't never had a song he ain't stole from a genuine, black blues man. _And _he's always had a bunch of black men backin' him up on stage so he's just stealing more money from my brothers and sisters."

"Man! How the hell can you locos fight like this?" The Chicano couldn't help but ask as he stunned another adversary with a stiff, right hook, the close combat designed to buy Sweet some time to find a new weapon. "Always talkin' about nothin'."

"How about you just shut the hell up, white clam eatin' cholo!" Sweet fired back, the sound of his MP7 spewing out several dozen bullets proving to be just enough to drown out the sound of Arrowette's unwilling but roaring laughter. "Damn! How many of these George Lucas shits I gotta deal with tonight?!"

"Aw, come on, man!" the Chicano shouted out, the tall, strapping man trying to get into the absurd swing of things, his nearly bald skull dappled with sweat as a flame-fisted Haborym demon tried to close in on him. "I mean, you're the former Army Ranger right, Sherm? Just be all that you can be," he suggested before a stray ember dug into its arm and gave his red-and-brown skinned adversary the opportunity to wrap its stone-like fists around his neck. No noise could escape from the Chicano's windpipe as the demon's inordinately high body temperature began to sear the captive's skin, the demon's firm chokehold steadily coming closer and closer to collapsing the muscles around the upper tip of the Chicano's spine. The smoldering agony continued to remain even after a bladed boomerang somehow managed to dig through the back of the demon's neck and coerce the beast to lose its grip, the projectile's trajectory telling a near impossible tale that it had been bounced off the bit of metal connecting the front and passenger side windows of Sweet's panel truck before succeeding in its life-saving strike.

Batman gave no regard to his accomplishment as he continued to move through the crowd, the all-too-human vigilante somehow managing to draw a wide berth from the surrounding demons and forcing the middle-aged fighter to come to his prey. And approach them he did, his muscular arms manipulated to a level of precision more associated with a knife's edge or a surgeon's scalpel as they administered nerve strikes which were specifically designed to incapacitate foes that he could not overcome in a fair encounter. The plummeting of an unconscious Fyarl demon had barely been completed before a left sweeping elbow, right uppercut, and Shotokan-style roundhouse kick combination dimmed the metaphorical lights of a Melizard demon, its black, elongated tongue protruding from its thin, slack jaws as it collapsed to the ground in agony. Next came the returning Haborym demon, its anger intensified by the pain in its spinal column but that distraction was all that was needed for Batman to roll under the sweeping left hook that came at him and fire back with a knife-edge chop to the small of the demon's back that sent the rocky skinned monstrosity stumbling down to the pavement.

"You can talk after you do your share," The Dark Knight of Gotham City coldly advised the younger warriors while flinging a flash bomb into a small smattering of demons that were threatening to close in on the porch of the nearby house, the wise action buying the gunmen inside some precious seconds and most likely saving at least a couple of lives. Of course, Arrowette had been fighting alongside Bruce Wayne long enough to know when it was time to shut up and pick up the pace and she made certain to follow the unspoken order to keep the two street soldiers as safe as she could. Taking a fraction of a second to abandon her long-empty quiver in order to rid herself of some unnecessary weight, she edged closer to the incapacitated Chicano while bringing herself into a familiar stance that would allow her to put the small, bladed, blood-soaked weapons in her hands to their best use.

"Dammmmmn! You see that?!" Sweet asked anybody he felt like asking while adding to the mayhem to the east with his own smoke grenade. "I mean, that's like some ol' John Woo shit!" His voice now only had a modicum of the practiced roughness and edge that it usually had, the utter marking out for his longtime hero overcoming his street-hardened candor. "Man, I told you he was gangsta!"

Cecilia tried very hard not to laugh. And failed miserably.

* * *

Arsenal's luck finally ran out roughly two minutes after he had drawn first blood against his far stronger, far quicker enemy. The damage he had done to the vampire-like commander of Neron's regiment had been notable and more than a little satisfying to commit but the fact remained that Roy didn't quite have what he needed to bridge the significant physical gaps between him and his increasingly hated foe. Still, his sound efforts allowed him to let out a cocky smile as Sebastian Blood grabbed him by the throat before slamming him back-first into the already beaten up Impala. There was a manic look in Blood's crimson eyes, an expression that looked startlingly similar to the desperate look on that nameless man's face just before he had been ordered from afar to put five bullets into Roy's chest. And while that close brush with death nearly three years ago was something that Blood apparently had no trouble forgetting, the former Teen Titan was damn certain that Neron's latest buttboy would remember this particular scrap.

"I've finally got you!" Blood shouted triumphantly, the emotion stored up in the immortal's dead heart enough to make his adolescent voice crack. "How dare you think you can humiliate me, you nondescript, little worm."

Roy's vision may have been turning blurry but he still had enough about him to see a rather menacing ogre-looking demon come storming up, massive war club in hand, with the apparent idea of coming to his general's aid. This turned out to be a profoundly unwise idea, however, as Blood's wounded self-image was enough to tempt the young general into punching his unburdened hand through the massive gut of his own soldier, a spray of gore and the spittle of portions of the creature's internal organs accompanying the disgusting display. Arsenal didn't expect to see a bit of remorse on the brat's face as he withdrew his hand and a mere glance at Blood's still frenzied countenance proved that theory in a hurry.

"Get away! He's mine!" The exclamations were screamed out through gritted teeth as Sebastian Blood began to tighten his grip. "Where's your clever, little lines now, human?" he asked while shaking Roy back and forth like a rag doll. "What? You don't have anything left to say?"

As it turned out, Roy had quite a few things left to say. Still, given the amount of pressure currently placed on his windpipe, the best the sharpshooter could manage was a strangled wheeze.

"Three. . . two. . ."

The tempest struck with unerring accuracy and indecipherable speed, the streak of yellow and crimson taking down one demon after the other after the other before even a scant handful of them could realize they were under attack. None of the human champions of Gotham could see it, of course, but Roy at least had the confidence to smirk as he was allowed to take in just a morsel of the alarm on Sebastian Blood's face before the young immortal quickly teleported away to avoid suffering at the hands of the organized chaos. Time continued to present its startling snapshots as what was once a violent, increasingly dangerous battlefield had suddenly shifted back to the quiet, deathly silence that often held sway in South Gotham in the early morning hours, the only sign of a disturbance being the dozens of dead or unconscious demons and the blessedly small handfuls of similarly aggrieved humans that now pockmarked Grove Circle.

Arsenal, to his credit, remained calm amidst the shock and surprise as he slumped against the hood of the Impala. Snapping open a special pouch on his utility belt, he set a small hip flask of Jack Daniels free from its leather resting place and gunned down a mouthful of it as his rescuer appeared with a jovial but still determined smirk.

"One," finished Wally West, the satisfaction brought about by a job well done bringing a smile to the face of The Fastest Man Alive.

* * *

The claw-to-blade battle between Robin and Sabbac proved to be fast-paced affair but was still set at a tempo that both combatants were comfortable with. Stephanie's smaller size benefited her superior speed and better maneuverability as she did her best to keep things close and prevent her bulkier adversary from putting his massive weapon to its optimal use. In contrast, Ishmael Gregor used his own experience in battle to counter the woman's work and made efforts to keep a reasonable distance from the dangerous Green Lantern, his wide blade held cross to his massive chest and allowing for quick blocks against Robin's lashes and simpler parries when the woman tried to push the battle forward. Just as Stephanie shifted the energy claw created alongside her left hand from offense to defense to ward off the occasionally spout of hellfire or a quick upward lash from the demon's blade so did Sabbac employ his unencumbered right hand to fire back with palm thrusts, jabs, hooks, and other attacks designed to open up the clash further and leave him with a more definitive advantage.

The active stalemate broke as Sabbac's latest sideways slash forced Stephanie to pull back by a couple of feet, the move the slightest of tactical hiccups but still enough to make a difference as Gregor finally had some room to swing. The double-handed slice was simple for Robin to telegraph and even less difficult to block but the alarm that sprang in her head as the massive sword crashed against her joined claws quickly reported that something was wrong. The emerald blades dissipated almost instantaneously from the force of the blow and it was only thanks to Robin's instinct to move that kept her from being ripped stem to stern. Instead her mind went queasy and her sight began to flutter as the blade dug three inches deep into the upper half of her left leg and knee on its way down, her sudden impulse for flight leaving her to only draw a fraction of the possible pain to come as Sabbac followed his successful strike up with an awkward-looking kick to the gut that sent the Green Lantern stumbling to the ground.

"Never attempt to surpass the trickery of a child of The Prince of Lies," Sabbac advised his barely conscious adversary as he returned to his one-handed stance in preparation for the kill. His next motion was swift and certain as he hurtled forward, his momentum easily carrying him past Robin and into the stone wall behind her with enough bone-shattering force to momentarily stun the former Russian mob boss and current greater demon.

Of course, it should now come as little surprise that someone had chosen to interrupt the proceedings before the battle could come to a quick and bloody end. That particular someone chose to wait patiently as Sabbac rose back to his feet and fired back with an annoyed glare. The intensity within those amber eyes was strong, cold, and rooted with confidence but the attacker remained as still and strong as one of pine trees that grew alongside that bank of the Mississippi River where the fighter would host picnics twenty years and several lifetimes ago.

"You would have been wise to retreat along with your brethren, preacher," Sabbac noted while bringing his body back to square in preparation for another fight.

"Maybe so," Caleb replied, the minister's eyes now pools of ebony. "But I aim to misbehave."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Could it be that this humble writer from Memphis, Tennessee, has managed to reorganize his writing schedule so that he can better satisfy his dozens and dozens of fans? Is it possible that some semblance of order has been restored to the frequently chaotic, 60-hour work weeks of this Matt the Batman Fan?

Naw, probably not. Still, I have to admit it's encouraging to get an issue churned out on time. Maybe I am on to something here.

Speaking of which, I love that DC Comics has just gone ahead and said that their newest series, _Brightest Day_, is not going to be as cheerful and optimistic as it was originally labeled to be. So this means that this series is either a metaphorical carrot on the string for this company's declining fan base or that the best writers DC has to offer have simply forgotten how to write a story that could be construed as encouraging, positive, or redeeming to its characters. I'm personally banking on the latter but, hey, I guess I shouldn't judge a horse too harshly before I see it run.

That being said, I've run for a long time and I wouldn't mind being judged. I'm still gunning for 800 reviews before Issue #100 (and how the hell have I been able to write that much?) and every little bit helps. On a related note, I would like to apologize for taking so long to get back with review responses and reviews of my own recently. Seriously, I'm trying my best to respond to everybody and provide some feedback in kind and I almost always do but life as a grown-up is busy. Seriously, I have no idea why so many of the teenagers and kids I work with want to be viewed as adults because, near as I can tell, there's very little value to be had in it.

You want to know what does have value though? My next issue preview, of course!

* * *

_Issue #96 Preview_

Well, the latest arc of this series is coming to a close and most of the dust has settled but we've still got some stuff on the table. For example, how can a Southern preacher with somewhat vague superpowers hope to succeed where one of the most powerful women on Earth has failed? How will Batman respond to the conditions set down by Calvin Besser as well as the rest of Gotham City? Can it get any more obvious who Stephanie's boyfriend just happens to be? Find out in the next installment of _The Misfits_, The Book of Disclosure. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	96. The Book of Disclosure

Issue #96

The Book of Disclosure

_Grove Street _

"Okay. How about this?"

Doctor Leslie Thompkins tried her best to batten down her frustrations while shaking her head back and forth in response to the query launched by her eager assistant. "No. Not quite, young man. Listen again. It's the yellow liquid in the clear bottle with the black top. . ."

The veteran pro bono caretaker and personal physician for Bruce Wayne begrudgingly cut her explanation short when her aide suddenly rushed off to make the 17-mile trip from Grove Street, back to The Thompkins Clinic and back to Grove Street. She felt slightly grateful that she had just enough time to make a quick, cursory check on her current patient before her assistant returned just 15 seconds later. The hasty helper was now clutching a bottle that matched her description and was waving it in front of her face like an eager toddler looking for some kindly words.

"Okay?"

Leslie shook her head once again. "Not okay. That anesthetic would most likely cause our patient to undergo a seizure," the old hand replied with as much patience as she could muster. "It's called prilocane, Wallace. It's on the second row of the shelf just above my scrub table. . ." she wanted to clarify The Flash's target just a little more but Wally had already rushed off again, the quick departure making the doctor feel quite grateful that the mother of Jai and Iris West seemed to possess infinitely more patience than their father. Still, she couldn't argue with the young father's devotion towards the task and so she rewarded The Flash with a slow, gentle nod when he hastily returned with the proper sedative in tow.

"Anything else, Doc?" asked the hero of the recent battle on Grove Street.

"No, that's quite all right." Thompkins replied, her hands already occupied with preparing a syringe while her eyes remained locked on the nervous twitching of her aggrieved patient. "All right, young man. Now we've managed to stop quite a bit of the bleeding and this should be enough to let you get some much needed sleep," she informed the 20-year-old street soldier with the recently cleaned bullet hole in his left arm, the gauze and bandages around the wound still clean, tightly wrapped, and thankfully not riddled with red.

The child was still too shaken by the night's proceedings to provide much of a response but the coffee-skinned youth's long, easy exhalations still managed to tell the elderly doctor a reassuring tale. It was at least enough to convince Leslie to rise back onto her feet after emptying the contents of the needle into the poor boy, her wrinkled, left hand passing through her iron-gray hair as she moved to examine the area around her. She was pleased that the neighborhood had done an admirable job turning the two-story byproduct of project housing into a makeshift infirmary, the modest, wood-paneled rooms quickly stocked with spare beds, couches, and mattresses for wounded men and women to rest and recover on. Furthermore, the transportation of the necessary equipment that would be needed to see to the needs of the patients had gone as seamlessly as it could have. Still, those successful efforts weren't just due to the diligence of The Flash and some of her more enterprising volunteers but was also possible because of a man who was currently trying very hard to not look inconspicuous while simultaneously being the most prominent presence around.

"You've done some fine work today," Doctor Thompkins told the cowled vigilante while moving over to the detective's selected corner of the room. She knew that she could have admonished the man for making little to no effort to actively see to the wounded (or do anything that could be construed as helpful, for that matter). Still, the deep, slightly haunting countenance that radiated from behind that mask once again gave the old woman the restraint that often came when the urge to admonish the man arose.

"None of these people should be like this right now," Batman replied, his tone soft but furious as he seemed to shrink from the good woman's presence. "Blood wouldn't have done a thing to these people if I wasn't here to bait him."

Leslie provided an understanding nod in return. Still, she knew enough of what made the mind of her most consistent patient tick and that information was enough to recognize that the marginally deserved guilt and shame was only a portion of what prompted Batman to adopt this particular state of mind. In fact, there were a thousand and one legitimate reasons for him to leave this place but just a mere look at the busy but boisterous actions of Arrowette and Arsenal as they scurried about, the two all-too-human crime fighters alternately caring for the injured and celebrating the fact that there weren't more casualties, was enough to coerce Leslie into sympathizing for the old, absolutely ineffectual fighter that was trying so hard to hide from this particular part of the world.

"Um, excuse me, sir," spoke another voice, the man's presence clearly noted by Batman well before the other man had worked up the courage to talk. "If I could. . . just speak with you for a moment."

The suggestion was slow and tentative and Leslie's well-knowing sigh was enough to bring the potential exchange to a grinding halt. "I thought I told you to get some rest, young man," she cautioned the decidedly hesitant looking gentleman, the amiable tone in her voice clearly suggesting that the reminder was more rooted in charm than chiding. "I don't know how you got those scratches on your neck but Yolanda worked very hard to put you back together again and she'd be quite angry if you go and ruin yourself again so quickly."

The Chicano couldn't help but chuckle as he avoided the temptation to scratch the back of his head with his unencumbered right hand, his left arm occupied by the bandaging around the spot between the limb and chest where a determined Fyarl demon had raked its claws only moments before The Flash had arrived to save the day. "Sorry, Doc Thompkins," he replied with a distinctly Southwestern American burr. "Jus' figured it might get me a little sympathy, ey?" The man was grateful for the soft laughter from Doctor Thompkins and used it to summon the bravery to extend his free arm forward.

"Cesar Rojelio," he finally said in greeting to the unimpressed Dark Knight of Gotham City. "I figure you probably know who I am already but I thought it'd be respectable to say hello."

"Well, I would think so as well," Leslie responded with a surprisingly rakish air, the old woman's proclivity towards helping those in need suddenly quite absent in the face of the current situation. "You know, Cesar has been quite helpful delivering medicine and other medical supplies between the clinic and the surrounding neighborhoods," she added as Batman did his best to fix her with a wintry glare. "Such a responsible young man. _And _he's quite gifted with automobiles."

Cesar's tanned skin flushed with embarrassment as a triumphant Leslie Thompkins walked away from the scene, her responsible ways restoring themselves even as she could nearly hear Batman's molars grinding together in her wake. As for the young, handsome Chicano, his quest to look presentable and sociable was still a hard road to hoe and it was made no simpler when his present judge, jury, and potential executioner shifted his attention away from their mutual acquaintance in order to focus fully upon him.

"Well, uhhhh, I jus' wanted to say that, y'know," Cesar suddenly felt quite tempted to rush back to his house to pick up a sweater that could cover the ink that he had gotten on his right shoulder in memory of his late little sister. "It was an honor to fight with you and. . . well, fight alongside you I guess."

Batman's well-constructed silence frightened the automobile buff far more than any demon or hardened Gotham criminal ever could and Cesar suddenly found himself quite interested in the state of his withered, black tennis shoes. "Y'know, I came from San Diego. Y'know, Aquaman an' all that. I mean, I never met him but I read about him in the paper sometimes and. . . yeah. . ."

Batman moved his tall, armored, muscular frame forward just a half-of-an-inch and Cesar scooted back a good two feet in response. The half-smile that slipped onto the detective's lips clearly said that he liked being able to stir so much fear in this particular individual and he decided to press the point.

"You're in a relationship with Stephanie Brown."

"Uh, yeah. Yes, I am," Cesar quickly replied, the California-born business owner bright enough to recognize that he needed to choose his words very wisely. "I've been dating Robin for. . . for about four months now." It took less than a second for the Chicano to realize that his last step had gone horribly wrong since the mere mention of his girlfriend's nom de guerre prompted Batman to narrow his eyebrows so sternly that the tempered rubber of his cowl gave out a barely audible creak. "I mean, she didn't tell me who she was until just a couple of weeks ago but if I did know then I wouldn't have done anything either way if I did know. . ."

"So you're saying that Stephanie isn't good enough for you?"

"NO! I mean that. . ." the slightly manufactured rage steaming from Batman's shielded eyes caused Cesar's own olive-green eyes to expand to an almost comedic degree. "I mean, yeah, she's good enough for me. I mean. . . Look, the thing is that I didn't want you to see me as one of those punks you just pluck up off the streets every night. . ."

"But you _are _one of those punks I put in the hospital every night, Cesar Rojelio," Batman growled back while advancing another foot-and-a-half (to his credit, Cesar only backpedaled about twice that). "I know more about your past than you probably do. You got started with crime when you were 12 working for Jorge Vialipiando, a San Francisco-based mob boss known for doing the dirty work for Black Manta. You may have never been arrested or charged for a crime but the only reason for that was because you were just a very, small fish in a large pond." The detective was quite aware that the younger man would have liked to say something in his defense but Bruce was on too much of a roll to stop now. "But then Aquaman busted your boss's operation and you fled to Gotham where you're taking up jobs for the most powerful present crime boss in Gotham. Have I missed anything here?"

Despite the current situation, Cesar Rojelio considered himself to be a fairly intelligent man and he used the next break in the proceedings to take stock. Of course, it didn't take very long at all for him to realize that he essentially had nothing more to lose when it came to demonstrating his conversational prowess (he couldn't go lower, after all) and he reasoned that it was fairly unlikely that Batman was going to beat him to a bloody pulp in front of so many witnesses. So, now quite knowledgeable of the risk that came with it, he simply decided to speak from the heart.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm perfect, ese," he began, the whole effort put into taking such a risk seeming to calm the Chicano. "But I'm trying. I've got legitimate repair shops set up all over Gotham's Eastside. No take backs or underhand deals or nothin'. I work for Big Smoke 'cause he can offer protection from people like Thorne and he's got a good idea goin' but I ain't into crackin' heads. I just want to provide for my moms and if Stephanie wants to be a part of that someday then, hey, I just hope you can approve."

Several silent seconds passed as Bruce Wayne pondered over whether or not he should rip Cesar Rojelio limb-from-limb. One of the more bloodthirsty fighting masters he had come across during his first expedition to Africa had attempted to teach him the rather unique art of administering pressure point strikes that would allow for the removal of limbs while simultaneously preventing the risk of hemorrhaging and death. Needless to say, he quickly grew disgusted with the lessons but that was back when he was a lone traveler and now he was thinking that he could still glean enough memories to put them to good use. Still, he ultimately chose to respond with a simple nod, the gesture a clear sign that the Chicano was still allowed to speak.

"She's really something. Really makes you wonder how somebody who thinks like Steph could live in a place like this, y'know?" Cesar continued on with a smidgen of confidence. "I mean, to go through all the stuff she's been through and still come out the way she is."

It wasn't as if any specific details had been given but it was enough to make Batman want to _really _kill the boy. After all, it was bad enough that he agreed with both the spoken and unspoken words but the pressure that came with refusing to say that out loud was enough to make him want to return to the substructure of his lavish manor and brood for days. Of course, he did manage to remain silent, his lack of response ultimately encouraging Rojelio to finally back away with the confidence that his primary mission was completed.

"Just so you know," the Chicano thought to include as Batman returned to his chosen corner. "She thinks the world of you, y'know. I mean, all the stuff you've done for her that she's talked to me about. You know she'd never admit somethin' like that but the way she talks about you, ese. . ."

The urge to say or suggest something more was right there in front of the man but Cesar managed to take a moment to scan his metaphorical cards and wisely chose to fold with a respectful nod of his head.

"Just thought you should know."

* * *

_Saizeru Monastery_

_Okay. Quick personal inventory time, _Stephanie mused to herself as the sizzle of hellfire rang against her ears. _Heartbeat. . . check. Breathing. . . check. Feeling like my body has been put through a physiological wood chipper. . . ya, sure, you betcha. _

Perhaps it was best not to ask how the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns could manage to find some humor in her present state as she continued to lie on her back, her body still trying to overcome its problems in order to better respond to her brain's orders.

_Enormous, gaping hole where a quarter of my left leg used to be. . ._

Stephanie's pale, blue eyes shifted downward to take a distressing glance at the spacious aperture in her left leg, the nearly two-foot long wound still spurting the blood that her ring was trying desperately to manufacture and distribute in order to keep its host alive. The magic imbued in Sabbac's blade had also done its fair share of damage to the surrounding skin, the recuperating flesh and sinew bubbling angrily as the dark power did its best to circumvent the efforts of her own healing abilities and supernatural metabolism.

_Check_, thought Robin as she threw her eyes away from the enormous incision in an effort to save her queasy stomach. _And _ow, she added before finally turning her attention to the fight between Caleb and Sabbac. She had to admit that the ornery preacher was trying his damndest to pull his weight in the one-sided fracas, the tall, muscular man dishing out powerful hooks and haymakers in an attempt to lay the greater demon low. There was a desperate tenacity in the preacher's every action, his movements screaming that he wished to will the evil abomination into knuckling under.

However, the fact remained that Caleb's tumultuous first shot had succeeded thanks to a combination of a good opportunity and an impressive amount of luck and neither of those boons were available at the present time. Sabbac proved this by easily enduring a stern right hook to the jaw before almost casually firing back with a scary fast backhand that sent his overpowered opponent hurtling away. Caleb's swift soaring was brought to an almost complete stop as the lower half of his right leg slammed into a stone pillar with such force and velocity that the cracking of bones somehow managed to carry over the falling rubble and the horrific sound of Caleb's scream. There was still a great deal of fury in Caleb's eyes but his futile attempts to return to a vertical base quickly proved that the passion was all but useless and Sabbac embraced that knowledge with great satisfaction. A cold smirk snuck onto his thin lips, the demon adopting the look of a bully who had taken the time to toy with his prey before finally choosing to make a quick, sudden kill.

"Did anyone ever tell you that impertinence was a sin?" Sabbac asked before summoning forth an eldritch bolt of hellfire that materialized from the back of his massive throat before being spit from his crimson maw. The human-turned-demon supposed he could have respected the man for not flinching in the face of his incoming demise but that potential admiration gave way to annoyance as a flash of green swerved in front of the preacher to take the hit. Gritting his fangs while moving to concentrate his impressive wellspring of power, he added a pair of flame bolts from his hands to his already present efforts as Robin intensified the force barrier that protected the two foolish warriors. He could just make out the moment when the slightest of holes appeared in the Green Lantern's shield but that flicker of potential satisfaction was also denied as the supernatural stripling fired a spiraling beam of energy that slid through the slit before barreling straight towards the center of his chest.

The rage manifested through Beelzebub's failure to sway the angels to his side five millennia ago began to fester as Sabbac was forced to break off his assault and twist his large body about in order to avoid being skewered. The concentrated ray of eldritch energy did manage to pierce and rip through a good portion of his right shoulder blade but the former mob boss knew that the consequences could have certainly been far worse. Still, it was bad enough to deal with the fact that the scurrilous little American dog had managed to put the battle back on even ground and the broad grin Robin provided to him in return told Gregor that his adversary was aware of that too.

"Have to admit that you pulled a good trick there, Sade," Robin began as the supernatural backwash began to die down. "I guess that little toy of yours is set up to put the screws to somebody else's magic?"

Sabbac fired back a smirk of his own as he brought the massive blade in his right hand back to a front guard position. "The Bane of Velius requires strong blood to satiate its thirsts, little one," he said with an almost perverse degree of warmth while keeping one of his amber eyes on Stephanie and the other on the slowly backpedaling Caleb. "Your first bequest leaves the blade starved for more and I shall take great pride in accomplishing its grisly order."

It was a mere split-second before Sabbac was prepared to make his charge that the place of worship seemed to suddenly become awash in a bluish-white light, the warmth and luminosity of the display sifting through Stephanie's tired body and somehow coercing her into a relieved smile without even knowing why. The bestial counterpart of Ishmael Gregor had an entirely different reaction, the greater demon choosing to quickly spin around in order to deflect the source of the brilliance with a narrowly successful block with The Bane of Velius. The deflection had a frantic strength to it, the power enough to send the explosion of light back at its wielder but the culprit accepted the light without a trace of complaint, the energy quickly circulating back through his body before being released again in an attempt to eliminate the threat to this long hallowed monastery.

"Your presence is not wanted, beast," Valsu Saizer pronounced with a roar while he continued to engage in battle with the avatar of Satan, Aym, Belial, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, and Crateis. "The foul power you wield will prove to be nothing in the face of the power of The Almighty Lord!"

"Woah! Father Murphy turned into Gandalf the Grey!" Stephanie couldn't help but blurt out as she momentarily served as a bystander in the struggle between vicar and demon. Then, realizing that she usually wasn't one for standing idly by, Robin quickly summoned the energy she would need to create another piercing blast of spiraling, green energy before letting it loose from the middle and ring fingers on her right hand. As one would expect, the added presence of a man of God didn't dissuade her from an enthusiastic "FUCK YEAH!" as Sabbac twisted to his left to avoid her attack, the life-saving feint forcing him to take a sizeable brunt of the bright blast of energy that Saizer had left for him to deal with. A guttural howl doused the narrow confines of the room as Sabbac went down, his body still immersed in the heat of the flame that the devout sorcerer had brought into play. However, the blue flame soon mixed with a more sinister looking crimson blaze as Gregor summoned the sigil he would need to return from whence he came, the greater demon apparently recognizing that the advantage lent to him by his sound strategy and lack of mercy had finally been overcome.

"Awwww, he didn't stick around to threaten us some more!" Stephanie nearly whined, the Green Lantern sounding quite a bit like a 10-year-old despite the massive blood loss and state of utter exhaustion. "I mean, what about 'how we'll never be safe' and 'the battle isn't over'," she pondered while adopting a Russian burr that was more suited for someone interested in catching moose and squirrel than a demon wishing to bring about Hell on Earth. She let that question linger as the light and flame began to die down and the powerful outline of Valsu Saizer once again restored itself to a frail, shriveled old man.

"I fail to see what purpose that would serve the demon," Saizer calmly replied, the old man once again forced to lean on his ivory-colored walking staff in order to remain standing. "Remaining in such an impossible situation would have surely resulted in Sabbac's demise."

Stephanie turned her concerned expression away from the still struggling Caleb in order to screw up her face and aim that reaction at the elder of the two preachers. "Well, yeah. Pretty much what I was shooting for there, Father Murphy," Robin answered in a rather acerbic manner. "Man, no wonder I would always sneak out of church whenever my mom dragged me over for Sunday services."

Valsu's soft, almost fluttering laughter painted a picture that contrasted mightily with the gruff glare that Caleb contributed as the Green Lantern helped the big man back to his feet. "I do believe that such trespasses can be forgiven, Miss Brown," Saizer softly replied while slowly stumbling forward into the former war zone. "Are you all right, Brother Caleb?"

Caleb found that he needed a moment to test his smashed and splintered right leg before responding, the Alabama-born fighter blatantly refusing the shoulder that Robin was willing to provide. "I suppose so, at least in this manner of speakin'," the brown-haired minister replied, the dark, black pools of his eyes getting just a hint brighter and gentler as the foul magic that had surrounded Saizeru Monastery finally disappeared. "But how about you, ol' man? Been a long time since you've had to pull off somethin' like that."

Saizer let out a sigh as he steadily rose up to his full but still unimpressive height. "I am quite all right, Brother Caleb. There are still many miles that I must travel and I shall do so with all the urgency that I can muster." There was an odd, little twinkle in the old man's eyes as he noted the two warriors regarding him cautiously. "The both of you were able to break free of the dark influence that Sabbac had attempted to engineer within these halls. Take pride in your accomplishment and allow me to be grateful for your diligence."

Then the aged vicar slowly crept away without another word or note of attention towards either Caleb or Stephanie, the quiet disregard leaving the two bloodied, tired fighters to the weighty task of examining the legitimacy of their deeds.

* * *

_Zatara Manor – Kitchen_

The late morning sun was trying its hardest to puncture the thick wall of the drapes that covered the windows on the southwestern edge of the room but found themselves coming up decidedly short. Lloyd couldn't help but sympathize as he absently sipped from his cup of green tea that the mistress of the house had been kind enough to prepare before choosing to move on to more important affairs. The brew was just a shade of what Mao would have rewarded him and Vincent with after another long day of military training and schoolwork but the gesture was still appreciated and Lloyd wanted to make certain to finish this simple task that came with the kindness. He ignored the rough tickling along the back of his throat as he took another somewhat soothing sip, the warmth that ran through his chest pleasant but hardly enough to take precedent over what he was already thinking.

_Or is it what you're thinking, old beast? _It was a possibility that Lloyd couldn't help but ponder over as he wiped his lips with the back of his left hand. _What if Zalbarda is right about your intentions?_

"_What if he is lying to you in order to get what he believes is owed to him, my teishu?" _The Condemner replied from his vantage point of Lloyd's cerebral cortex.

_What if you're lying to me in order to do the same, exact thing? _It was always unusual to be surprised by your own thoughts but the blunt nature of his counter was enough to shake Lloyd into slowly placing the cup back down to the table below. _History is constructed by the losers and written by the victors, Za-hafal'nesh, and you were part of that latter crowd a lot longer than Zalbarda._

"_So you are so willing to agree with a creature that takes unparalled pride in being a manipulator of men?" _asked The Condemner, the thundering voice of the eons-old demon harboring no shock, anger, or disappointment. _"Your heart is capable of telling you that Zalbarda is not telling the truth."_

_Maybe not the full truth. Still, there's a lot of honesty that can be found in a lie and I can't help but look at that. My mind is telling me that you've been without a corporeal form for more than a hundred human lifetimes, long enough to develop the patience to realize that some sacrifices have to be made to get what you really want, even if that means putting up with a human host until you can find a better solution._

"Am I interrupting some Batman-inspired brooding here?"

The Condemner's counterpoint was quickly rendered mute as Lloyd snapped back to attention. His hazel eyes quickly took in Zatanna's upraised eyebrows and otherwise curious countenance with as much hastily gathered amusement as he could and it seemed that the lady of the house appreciated the effort. There was a hint of a grin that threatened to rise onto the well-angled face of the middle-aged witch but it was clear that a note of caution still held sway.

_Only natural to be guarded 'bout a situation like this, _Lloyd thought to himself, _this __**is**__ a bird that's known Bruce Wayne for three soddin' decades. _

"Nothin' for you to be concerned about," Lloyd eventually replied while silently asking if he should rise from his chair. "Just havin' a chat-up with my demonic half."

"So I gathered," Zatanna replied while waving The Black Dog's silent offer away and moving to take a seat by the still conflicted half-demon. She had taken the time to get out of the white vest and fishnets that often served as her battle attire in order to reacquaint with a charcoal sweater and some black track pants that somehow made the Justice Leaguer even more attractive in Lloyd's eyes. "Y'know, I'm not about to say I'm an expert on things like this but I have had some time to look into your demon. Well, look into his magic, I mean, and it doesn't appear to hold an ill will."

Lloyd rounded his lips before letting out a long, tired breath that only seemed to arouse his compatriot's interests further. "Zanna," he replied, his usage of Bruce's pet name for her causing the witch to purse her lips, "say you're somebody who was once the master of all they surveyed, something that never had to answer to anyone if they so chose. Now you're stuck in the hands of someone who was less than nothing in comparison. A mote of dust that'll be here and gone before you even draw a metaphorical breath."

"Not very big with the self-image here, are we?" asked Zatanna, a clear hint of kind mockery in her inquiry that coerced Lloyd into letting out a brief chuckle.

"I just know my limitations," Lloyd reasoned while turning to look his questioner square in the eyes. "But back to you. Now say that the only way that you will _ever_ get back to what you once were hinged entirely on the safety of this little pile of flesh and bone." The Black Dog found himself looking down at his cup and the small plate it perched upon, the half-demon using his borrowed telepathy to swirl around the cooling, stale bits of liquid inside the miniscule container. "And you're still strong, mind. Strong enough to know that there's a possibility to get out of the situation you're in at the present time so long as you do what you can to preserve your new, unwanted little friend."

Zatanna was kind enough to remain silent as Lloyd pondered the possibilities, the veteran stage performer well aware of both the question to come and the answer she'd provide.

"Now how would you treat them?"

Zatanna did not hesitate in the least.

"I'd tell them whatever they wanted to hear, even if it wasn't what they thought it would be at first. I'd teach them my tricks, stand beside them, and I would stab them in the back the moment a better offer came along."

Now it was Lloyd's turn to raise his eyebrows and regard his attentive audience with a dubious glare. "Not very big with the optimism here, are we?"

"I just know my limitations," Zatanna gamely replied while extending her lean arms forward to wrap her tiny hands around Lloyd's slightly larger ones. She had been in the world of magic long enough to recognize how those with her talents could draw and deliver strength to others and her current efforts to do so were little more than an instinct to do the right thing at the time. Not surprisingly, it didn't take long before another force appeared to forcefully push her back, the determined source fairly unfamiliar but still quite determined to keep her away.

_Mine, _the presence seemed to growl, the determination in the eldritch signature sorely tempting Zatanna to snigger. Lloyd, to his credit, was looking quite sheepish in response and the awkward reaction kept Zatanna from teasing the younger magician any further. "Well, on the bright side," she pressed on, "I think I've got a good idea about who our little troublemaker might be."

"You do?" Lloyd asked quickly, his thirst for information overcoming his embarrassment.

Zatanna offered a simple nod before leaning back in her seat, the exact same gesture that Bruce would bring to the table when he was about to tell a modestly sized tale. "Well, the whole thing about 'Donna's eternal home' got me to thinking about The Teen Titans and, once I started there, it was kind of silly that I hadn't thought of it before. Still, have you ever heard of a kid named Eddie Bloomberg?"

Lloyd shook his head. "'Fraid Tweety was the one who looks into that group. So wot about 'im?"

"Well, first of all, he's the sweetest kid you'd ever want to meet," Zatanna began again, her chin dimpling as she scrunched her pretty face inward in a gesture of courtesy. "More than a little gullible but really kind hearted. He had a big fanboy crush on Blue Devil and he apparently tried to become his junior partner when Eddie found out that he was going to be a stagehand for one of Danny's movies." The witch couldn't help but notice Lloyd lower his head in thought and quickly moved to help fill in the rest of the blanks. "I don't know as much about it as you'd probably want to hear but apparently Eddie tried really hard to get Blue Devil to take him under his wing but I don't think it ever panned out."

"Hmmm," Lloyd mumbled while finally sliding his cup and saucer aside. "So is this little tale going to end up being like Buffy and Jonathon or Syndrome and Mr. Incredible?" The pair of potential similes caused Zatanna's baby-blue eyes to widen significantly and the sheer disbelief etched over the rest of her face quickly caused the Brit to backpedal. "Sorry 'bout that. Been hangin' around Steph and Wally for fartoo long."

Zatanna nodded, the conjurer kind enough to accept the fairly sketchy explanation. "Well, then we fast forward to Titans Tower a couple years later and Eddie shows up sporting gray hair, red skin, and a body temperature of about 300 degrees. Of course, I was asked to run a check on the supernatural circuit to see if there was anything particularly sketchy about what happened but I couldn't find a whole lot of salient info and most of that was pointing away from anything I'd usually associate with Neron's dealings."

"Of course, given that we're dealing with Neron, that just means that this may very well be just a new trick of his," Lloyd concluded, the half-demon's hypothesis drawing a sigh and a nod of agreement from The Justice League's resident expert on the supernatural. "So what kind of kid are we really dealin' with here? I mean, he may be the sweetest, 'ittle hell spawn you've ever seen but the way he got his power is telling me that something about Mr. Eddie Bloomberg stinks to hell."

"Edward Bloomberg is nothing more than a fop and a pretender," another voice threw in, this one possessing far more hostility, venom, and experience behind it. "And he is a boy whose pubertal ego and desire to be something more than what he is may very well doom us all."

The mistress of Zatara Manor let out a well practiced but still aggravated sigh as Jason Blood shuffled into the room, the fatigued necromancer apparently not exhausted enough to deliver his particularly assured two cents. "I was going to get to that, Jason," she finally responded as the auburn-and-gray haired man stooped into a nearby chair, "albeit in a less douchebaggy way. Still, the real fact of the matter is that Bloomberg may not be the type who would agree to something like this but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't."

"So we're thinking a deal under duress then," Lloyd offered while wrapping the short, stubby fingers of his right hand across his chin. "A soothsayer trollin' through the waters for somebody with an honest desire for power and then giving them some terms and conditions that only help them out in the end. Pretty bloody common tale."

"Yes, but still quite efficient in its own ways," Blood added, a thin hint of regret rooted in the otherwise neutrally toned declaration. "Nevertheless, it is clear that whatever deal that enabled Bloomberg to acquire whatever miniscule supply of strength is currently in his possession must be looked over with greater scrutiny than before. I shall take to this task as soon as I am physically able to do so, Mister Thomas. This should offer the opportunity for you and your ilk to combat Neron's forces on a theater of war more suitable for your talents."

"Yeah, you're not a magical Batman at allllll," Zatanna mumbled while rolling her eyes, the slight twitch of her nose demonstrating her intentions and drawing a smile from Lloyd. "And I'm guessing that you're going to want my help on all this in case The Great Pumpkindemon decided to want to come out and play again without your permission?"

"I suppose your assistance would be the slightest bit suitable," Jason confessed, his uniquely rude way of doing so prompting Zatanna to look cross once again as the eldest of the three magicians rose back to his tired feet. "My thanks in restraining Etrigan during the battle against Zalbarda's shock troopers, Miss Zatara. And allow me to thank you as well, Mister Thomas, for managing to keep your own dark temptations in check during your struggle against Neron's newfound advisor. I will endeavor to maintain greater control over my darker half as this conflict continues on."

Some understandable moments of silence passed as Etrigan's proprietor returned to his provided resting quarters. However, it was the younger of the two that allowed the silence to linger as The Black Dog regarded the stunned expression on Zatanna's face with a broad grin, the former student of Mao Tenryu quite pleased to see this particular embarrassing shoe resting on someone else's foot for a change.

"Wow. Two compliments from Jason Blood in less than a minute" Zatanna finally said, the sorceress still mildly taken aback but still capable of enjoying the moment. "That is definitely a record," she added while turning back to Lloyd with the smile that had helped her grace dozens of magazine covers. "And I suppose I owe quite a bit of it to you."

"Take what you want from it," Lloyd softly replied, the sudden influx of good words and bright spirits suddenly making him feel embarrassed. "Didn't really do anythin' outside of my job."

Zatanna's knowing grin returned for an encore performance as she stretched forward to take Lloyd's hands, the gesture of friendship decidedly lacking the angry eldritch response from before. "Looks like Hal was right about you after all. You are a lot like Bruce when he was your age." The startled expression Lloyd gave in response provided a suitable enough opening for Zatanna to move in close and kiss the man's cheek. Of course, being a veteran performer, she made certain to take note of the reaction of her audience and smiled when she got exactly what she was hoping for. "Of course, 'John' never blushed when I did that."

It wasn't the first time, and most likely not the last, that Lloyd Thomas reluctantly wished that he actually was a little bit more like the person he was so frequently compared to.

* * *

"Well, this neighborhood has certainly seen better days," Doctor Thompkins couldn't help but admit to her current patient, her penchant for cutting to the root of the matter guiding her blunt diagnosis. "The fire that spread into Sweet's house completely destroyed the tomato plants outside and whatever got skidded through your flower bed was big enough to wrangle it into disrepair. You've also got broken down cars and all sorts of mess lining Grove Circle but I don't think that's anything that The Flash can't clean up."

Calvin Besser finally cut the old woman off with a tired groan, the portly man struggling to heft his upper body up from his bed while his belly and chest still remained tightly wrapped in gauze and other forms of bandaging. "You don't have to tell me any of that, Doc. I know it's gonna take a lot more work to get done what needs getting done."

Leslie fired back with a discontented grumble of her own as she used her own meager strength to send Big Smoke back down to his resting place. "But there's still a lot of light here and a lot of that is thanks to the work that you've done for Gotham, young man." The wizened caretaker was now confident that she held control of the court as she moved to check Besser's blood-sugar level. "You'd be wise to take some time out and listen to your elders before you go charging in."

The additional influx of forthrightness tempted Big Smoke into letting out a shallow but sincere laugh, his double chin jostling gently with the effort as he complied with the silent order to lay back down. "Ain't no thanks necessary, Miss Thompkins. But it's my job to look after Grove Street and I didn't have enough to do it right," he murmured back with his deep, supple candor, the voice a way of taking what he needed while being physically confined. "Thank you for coming to help us in our time of need. This city'd be a lot better place if there were jus' people who thought like you around."

"Really now?" Leslie asked back, her eyes more focused on the results just posted by the IVGTT than by the former street hood, college graduate, and current crime lord. "Well, I, for one, prefer a bit more diversity," she countered while rising to her tiny feet and starting to move on to the next matter. "And besides, this city already has its fill of perfectionists on the battlefield."

Besser was given some time to roll his head back and forth against the modest pile of pillows beneath him, his eyes locked on the sturdy ceiling while his fatigued but still active mind was given the opportunity to mull things over. Interestingly enough, his occupied state wasn't enough to dull his senses to the point where he could simply avoid the onlooker that was already waiting for the next move, that tall, gloomy presence somehow keeping quiet while still commanding more than its fair share of attention. A strong part of the gangster's instincts warned him to take flight or initiate some other form of defense but he managed to stifle that worthless trepidation before the sound of hard, black boots clopping against the hardwood floor could dissuade him further.

"So what are you thinking, Mister Boogeyman?" Big Smoke couldn't help but ask as Batman loomed into his limited vantage point. "Have we spilled enough blood and sweat today to convince you to give myself, my brothers, and my sisters some time to make things better?"

"I told you to get your people away from here," Batman coldly reminded the crime lord, the weight of his shame still not enough to subdue his healthy supply of righteous indignation. "A willingness to endanger others doesn't often translate into a desire to help others."

"Well, where the hell were we supposed to go?!" Besser spat back, the somewhat rotund man so determined to get his point across that he blithely ignored his doctor's orders and pushed his upper body forward to get into a sitting position in order to accost the detective more efficiently. "Look, I'm trying to save lives here. I'm trying to put money in the hands of the people that need it and earned it! Now I got my people involved in one of your fights and you come in here with all this remorse about what happened but you still don't trust the people you want to protect when they say they want to protect themselves!"

The time Big Smoke needs to lie back down gives Batman some of his own time to think. It doesn't take long before his thoughts drift back to his own band of somewhat organized punks and vagabonds that had come into his home and asked if they could share his mission. Of course, it wasn't as if any of them were deprived of a lack of choice when it came to where they wanted to hang their hat but all of them chose to stay and it was impossible for him to avoid the comparison or to ask the question that came with it.

Why?

What was the point of fighting a war that not even he thought he could win?

"I still have little reason to trust your spoken intentions," Batman pointed out in his typically brusque manner, the unspoken condition found in his words serving as the closest thing he would provide in terms of a compromise.

"No, you don't," Big Smoke hastily agreed. "But how do you explain the fact that none of your soldiers have taken us out of Gotham like you have with everyone from Thorne on down? I mean, I know Robin and them like to march to the beat of their own drum but it ain't exactly a secret that somebody is holding their reins and it ain't always The Black Dog."

A cold nod of the head was allowed to serve as Bruce's preliminary rejoinder as both he and Besser regarded the sound of footsteps wafting closer and closer to them. Batman was able to see a glint of red hair from the reflection provided by the nearby window and allowed his mind to do the rest of the math. It was only minutes before the police showed up and Arsenal was planning on asking him how they were going to respond. It was a question that hardly needed asking but Roy was enough of a professional to go through the motions anyway but a simple glance towards the former Checkmate agent quickly eliminated any potential opportunity for unnecessary clarification.

"You've earned a one-shot deal, Besser," Batman finally declared, his tone laced with an easily seen but unspoken threat. "But you would do well to remember the stories of the monsters you've replaced. I _will _be watching your every move."

The words could have been taken as either a warning or a challenge and Big Smoke was confident enough to consider it to be the latter. "Hell, I wouldn't have it any other way, Mistah Higgins," Besser replied, the slight boost in confidence prompting the gang leader to let out a slight smile. His good spirits continued to linger as Batman promptly turned on his heel and left with Arsenal just a step-and-a-half behind. His eyes were already shut when The Dark Knight of Gotham City told Arrowette that they were heading out and he could already feel himself succumbing to sleep's downy temptation even as the fair-haired archer provided her response.

"Awwwww, but I wanna play more Grand Theft Auto!"

* * *

It was quite difficult for somebody to examine a cracked jaw while they were being forced into a light jog by their patient but the industrious nurse was trying very hard to succeed at her work.

"Well, I still say that you're in no condition to travel," Agnes Brown declared between breaths while also examining the unhealthy looking bruise on her daughter's cheek. "You almost got your leg sliced in two, for God's sake."

"Look, I told you I'm fine. I. . . gruuuugh," Stephanie replied, the indecipherable grunt of defiance brought about as her mother slid in front of her. "Mooooooom," she then added, the tone far more fitting for a whinging five-year-old than a heroine known throughout the cosmos. "I've been through a lot worse than this, you know."

"Yes, but I wasn't there to tell you how much of an idiot you are for doing it," Agnes countered in a surprisingly logical manner, her quick fingers aiding her in better perusing the splotch of red and purple that was subbing in for the right side of her daughter's face. "I mean, my God, you nearly get yourself killed fighting this Sabhawk guy and now you're standing here pretending that everything is right as rain." The overcompensating mother stepped away from Robin in order to give her little girl a once over. "That's it. Pull up your jeans. You're not hiding that scar from me anymore."

"_MOM!" _Stephanie shrieked while scooting away, the usually unflappable troublemaker now trying hard to keep her cheeks from flushing with embarrassment. "I've got to get back to Gotham! I already told you that Batman prefers it when I tell him news like this to his face because he gets all Batbitchy when I try and put it in the case file because _he says _I don't spend enough time describing it properly. Besides, if I don't go back there then he'll get all moody and grumpy and then I'll have to take an hour out of my day just to get him back to where he's just angry instead of broody and I don't want to do thaaaat!"

Agnes resisted the urge to sigh, the woman having given up on enough battles in the war to stay in her daughter's heart to realize when a certain skirmish didn't need to be fought anymore. "And just what, exactly, do you want to talk to Mister Wayne about, missie?"

Robin was quick to shift her eyes away from her insightful mother, the fair-haired Gothamite almost chagrined that someone, even her mother, had managed to sift through her defenses so quickly. "I don't know," she almost whispered as if it were a dreaded confession. "I mean, I'm _Robin_! One-half of The Dynamic Duo, you know?" The sweeping, up and down motions of her open palms was able to present the strength in that distinction if the somewhat desperate tone in her voice failed to do so. "Why would I want to risk that?"

Of course, Agnes realized that there were some great reasons why her little girl would want to do so. Some of which, the older woman guessed, were matters that her only child was not even ready to consider as she remained caught within her self-created hurricane. However, she still had the presence of mind to remember her adage of letting this particular brand of sleeping dog lie and chose to remain silent as she wrapped her daughter in a warm hug. She knew she shouldn't have gotten so much from the realization that Stephanie seemed to have no issue with returning the embrace but the older woman was too caught up to care thanks to the tightness around her lower back and the soft, blonde hair that tickled her cheek.

"Thanks for trying really hard not to freak out," Stephanie whispered, the thanks delivered like a secret to be shared only among close friends. She gave a quick peck to her mother's cheek before her pale, blue eyes widened in response to another welcoming sight. Slowly separating herself from the embrace, the cocky warrior woman opened her arms wide to catch Lian Harper as she bounded into her chest. "Oh no!" Robin exclaimed with melodramatic dismay. "It's a cracked peanut! The peanut is cracked!"

The daughter of Roy Harper gamely stuck out her tongue to counter, the bandaging around the young lady's head doing little to blunt the lively immaturity of the action. Her stubby hands were already hard at work poking and prodding the face of her aunt as her current caretaker strode forward.

"Well, I suppose I could say that it would be quite unwise for someone who just suffered a concussion to be moving around like that," Doctor Naomi Mitchell hypothesized as she came to a stop along with the two men trailing behind her. "Of course, I can also consider my audience and realize that those would just be wasted words."

"Yeah, we do love our trouble," Stephanie replied without a hint of shame while jostling Lian into the crook of her right arm so she could have a hand free. "Thanks a whole lot for keeping cool in the line of fire, Doc. You are quite the credit to your profession."

The Oxford graduate merely shrugged her shoulders, a gesture that was quite familiar to a young Green Lantern who had spent the last several years trying and failing to properly compliment the work of a certain half-Brit, half-demon. "Thank you for protecting the monastery," she said back in an attempt to redirect the praise. "The druids responsible for defending the monastery still aren't certain how Sabbac was able to pierce the defenses but some more detailed looks into the supernatural residue should give us the answers we seek and prevent it from happening again."

Robin thought that the good news deserved a smile and responded as such. "Well, I guess I can't ask for much more than that," she admitted before brewing another bout of roguish air. "So have I earned an invite to you and Nightthing's wedding yet?" The doctor's shy, admittedly pretty blush only caused Stephanie's grin to widen and coerced Lian to laugh into Robin's shirt. "And how about you, Southern Man? Still wanna kill me or what?"

"Oh, most definitely," Caleb replied, the cast wrapped around his right leg unable to keep away the grudging good humor from the weathered face of the muscle-bound preacher. "Of course, now that feeling's all just based on general principle."

"Fair enough," Stephanie noted with a nod before turning her attention to the last gentleman on her list. "Would it be sacrilegious to say that you kicked some ass out there, Father?"

"Valsu will be adequate, Miss Brown," the vicar kindly answered, the elderly energy wielder and man of God far too along in the game to respond to Robin's blunt grousing attempts. "I would also like to offer my thanks for your good work this morning. Perhaps it is not so foolish to believe that your spirit will be so integral in overcoming the time of troubles to come."

Likewise, Stephanie Brown had come far along enough in life to know about lingering questions to recognize that the old man's last statement meant far more than a simple goodbye. Of course, it was all that the old man would offer as he unhurriedly turned to move into the other direction, the tall, looming presence of Caleb providing a silent warning not to pursue the matter any further. Denied that opportunity, there was little left to do for the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns but present her favorite adopted niece with a messy kiss on the cheek, accept a sincere nod from Lloyd's mother and another quick embrace from her own before winging her way away from the monastery proper. Several seconds past before Valsu had chosen to speak again, his shuffling steps barely taking him 10 yards by the time Robin was 60 kilometers away from Devon's city limits.

"May our emerald light continue to grow and prosper, its brilliance shall guide us as the pretenders fall."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay. Two issues put out on time in a row. Maybe I'm really starting to get a hang of this juggling responsibilities thing. Speaking of which, I think the incoming countdown to the 100th issue calls for a few special occasions so I think I'm going to take my author privileges out and post a little survey on my profile page. I'd love to see you guys and gals participate, either through the survey yourself or through your reviews and, hey, maybe your feedback will play a part in how the next saga of this story will go!

After all, we've still got a long way to go on this train ride.

Speaking of which, how about a preview into the next arc and issue!

* * *

_Issue #97 Preview_

As a potential apocalypse begins to loom its ugly head and the players on both sides prepare for a war of epic proportions, it is only natural that the story now turns to tell the tale of. . . Cecilia King-Jones?! That's right. The Misfits' cranky archer extraordinaire gets her turn in the spotlight as she gets to ponder life as Batman's partner, her past, and what crap happens when those two things inevitably come together! All that, the adventures of Puppy and Tweety, and the stunning introduction that maybe one of you have been waiting for in the first installment of _Fathers and Daughters_: Quarter Pound of Issues with Cheese. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	97. Quarter Pounder of Issues with Cheese

Issue #97

Quarter Pounder of Issues with Cheese

_October 28__th__ - 08:27 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

The Panetti Brothers Parts Warehouse, one of the oldest fixtures of one of the oldest's wharfs of Gotham's centuries-old seaport, was a facility that had certainly seen better days. What had begun as a facility designed for shipping tons of Virginia-made cotton before being transformed into a bustling enterprise that sent out and received car engines and compressors and spark plugs worth an annual gross of nearly 400 million dollars as of merely four years ago had finally knuckled under the force of commercial shifting and decreased demands for domestic products. The damage was so extensive, in fact, that the once prominent drug trafficking racket that ran through the back halls and subbasements of this formerly infamous crime den had now been reduced to several dozen veteran dealers, manufacturers, and pushers straining to search for supply while simultaneously endeavoring to unearth the remains of their dwindling demand. Thus, perhaps it was understandable that this ramshackle depot had become the chosen meeting place between the heads of the crime families that remained in Gotham but Gino Forelli was not about to admit to that, the Sicily-born former street soldier and current head of the ruins of Roland Daggett's illicit corporate empire being far too proud of his past accomplishments to accept his present lot.

"I warned all of you about this three months ago," Forelli coldly informed the dozen or so dubious dignitaries that sat with him at the long conference table. "I told you that this wasn't just another one of The Bat's little snits or some bullshit police crackdown. And now, because you didn't listen, we're sittin' here in a shithouse old factory fighting over scraps when we should have united and run these bastards out on a rail!"

"And what the hell makes you think that it would have made any difference?" growled back Rufus Sewell, a mountain of a man that had been muscled out of his own territory weeks before Forelli's alleged forecast. "Now if you're gonna listen to this little pasta eatin' bitch then that means you can listen to me too," he said with a notable of warning while casting his large, dangerous black eyes in order to meet the faces of nearly everyone in the room. "There's a lot greener pastures to be had out there. Hell, most of Forelli's old buddies already have a good deal goin' out of Philly and I'm makin' my ends meet in Metropolis. . ."

"Fuck you and fuck Metropolis," Forelli growled back, the oily-faced crime boss not wanting to harbor a hint of a debate. He rose to his steady feet, his stance prohibited only slightly by his pudgy, overstacked legs as he quickly retook control of his surroundings. "Now my family's been in this town for a long time, since before that stinkin' Alan Scott was flyin' around and it was those old men that gave us the opportunity to keep this city the money machine that it is! They helped carve out our way of life and guys like my grandfather, God rest his soul, wouldn't take to be taken out of their property by some thugged out niggers who got lucky!" The middle-aged mob dignitary could already pick up Sewell's scowl and slammed his hand against the table in order to cut the unnecessary argument off at the past. "And if we're ever gonna get back what belongs to us then we're just gonna have to pull our heads out our asses, gather together what we still got, and take this little upstart shit Besser out while we still got a fuckin' leg to stand on."

"You ask the rest of us to take quite the risk, Sonny Forelli," replied Sal Palontonio, the longtime consigliere for Rupert Thorne sounding just as calm as his longtime superior would if the situation was left for him to handle. Though nearly the physical opposite of Thorne, the thin, almost weedy, brown-haired Italian immigrant still displayed the grace and authority that had been delivered by the Vernon syndicate for decades. "Besser's influence over the lower parts of the city would promise a long and bloody battle. Speaking on behalf of Mister Thorne, another one of those men who helped build the city that you're trying so diligently to get back," he added with a quick, meaningful look towards the head of the table. "Our energies would be better spent building capital from interests outside of Gotham. His empire will fall just as all those that have before."

"I'm tellin' ya that you're just letting 'em dig their hooks in deeper," Forelli spat back, the murderer turned mob boss rising from his chair. "Has your big, bad boss seen Grove Street lately? The place got wrecked and the papers ain't saying how it happened and that means that something bad must have gone down. Now this fat fucker took advantage of us when Batman cracked down on us and now I say we give them the same fuckin' courtesy."

"And yet you mention what may be the best reason to ignore your wishes," Palontonio replied while leaning back in his chair, the near polar-opposite of the red-faced Forelli. "Rumors persist that The Batman is working with Mister Besser to maintain a hold on Gotham's crime circles, perhaps even to the extent that some of Batman's understudies have taken out Falcone and Digger Johnson in accordance with Besser's wishes."

"Heh heh heh."

The throaty chuckling rumbling from some spot behind Forelli drew a scant amount of attention from those at the table but was quickly ignored.

"Come on now, Sally. I think we all know that the Batfreak is too straight-laced to do some shit like that," Forelli replied in an almost mocking tone while completing his own backwards glance. "You smellin' something, freak?"

The aforementioned "freak" let out another chuckle while keeping her back to the wall. She was an almost bestial creature with bright, blue eyes and long, stringy black hair that hung down in front of her scar-laden face. She had been still throughout the 45-minute session, the occasional gasp of laughter or a sporadic and bizarre utterance serving as the only bits of attention she drew from the more important dignitaries. Still, the fact remained that every additional sound she made had drawn just a bit more attention than before.

"I don't got time for any more unanswered questions," Sewell growled in a decidedly impatient manner. "Your little chuckling bitch is way too much of an unknown to be hangin' around here, Forelli."

Daggett's circumstantial heir briefly turned around to accept a cold smile from the woman under question before truly registering the complaint. "Don't worry about Miss Sydney Stills, old pal," he answered easily. "I just got her on loan from that chickenshit Matches Malone before he hightailed it over to Tijuana." He took a moment to turn around once again, his pudgy left hand moving to slide down the rose-colored lenses of his sunglasses in order to take a hasty but appreciative glance at the swell of her bodyguard's breasts before returning to task. "She may not be the most social type but I ain't gonna argue with her effort."

"Well, I'm arguing that she shouldn't be here," Sewell fired back while rising to his massive feet, his every moment screaming that he was quite ready to be rid of the problem immediately. Forelli, however, merely smiled calmly as the colossal African-American crime boss stomped past him.

"I wouldn't do that," Forelli nearly sang out just as Stills sprang into motion and stopped Sewell's attempts to harm her by plunging a tri-bladed weapon into the cord of muscles linking the man's massive right arm and his even brawnier shoulder blade. It wasn't nearly enough to kill the object of the bodyguard's ire but it was enough to coerce Sewell into letting out a barely controlled agonized grunt as he stumbled backwards. As was their way, the Gotham crime heads responded to the unexpected bloodshed with a hesitant and guarded amusement as Forelli was kind enough to hold sway over the proceedings as Sewell was escorted to the factory's old medical ward.

"Guess it's a good thing that we promised no guns, huh?" asked Forelli as he accepted the bits of laughter. "Now as I was sayin', if we work together then we've got enough muscle to take the streets back," Forelli continued on, the confidence rising in his deep delivery. "Now Thorne may be saying that it's only a matter of time before Big Smoke takes a tumble but I'm saying that that time is now. We find the chink's in this son of a bitch's armor and we exploit them and then we go back to not havin' to be afraid of anybody! Not The Grove Street Bangers, not the police, and this Batman can just go to hell!"

The arrogant claim drew another succession of menacing chuckles from the cracked lips of Forelli's bodyguard, the diligence the young psychopath was putting in cleaning her sai apparently not enough to distract her from the goings on. Nearly everyone in the room was immediately ready to pay the bloodthirsty loon no mind but as the laughter continued on, the merriment stretching into more and more of a pronounced territory with every, passing second, it got to the point where even Sonny Forelli couldn't help but feel a bit perturbed. This instinctual fear was further amplified as each and every light in the room was suddenly cut off and Gotham's most prominent lawbreakers were left in the dark to briefly ponder whatever fate suddenly had in store for them. Some of them even held an impulse for redemption or recollection but those were quickly abandoned as an explosion sounded out above their heads and a dark, looming presence fell into the midst, his heavy boots coming down on the conference table with an audible _whuuuuump_. No more pretense was needed as panicked shouts and calls for order drowned each other out as the frightfully iconic presence of The Dark Knight of Gotham City rose from the wreckage like a reaper, the black-garbed vigilante kind enough to silently greet his helpless prey before springing to his work.

It turns out that Sonny Forelli wasn't fast enough to scream. And, even if he was, the long, thin blade piercing his sciatic nerve was enough to morph his words into an indecipherable wail.

"Look into the shadows, Forelli," Sydney Stills hissed into her former boss's ear while keeping the tip of her sai straight within the man's back. "Remember the fear you feel tonight, you sick, little bastard."

* * *

_October 28__th__ - Wayne Manor – 09:59 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Each of the three silent champions would have been quite happy to give their noisy fourth a well-earned swat to the back of the head but the rigors of a long night had dulled their collective irritation into little more than a series of resigned sulks. To her credit though, Stephanie Brown had been quite diligent to learn when such occasions could or would take place and the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns was more than happy to reap the fruits of her labor, the littlest and loudest of the quartet bouncing to a self-concocted beat while whistling in time to a song she had never heard of. The display of lunacy was almost a given and the silent request for attention was only slightly less predictable and another silent debate resumed as the three champions who had the emotional resiliency to train with the rambunctious Robin day-after-day, five hours per day, through the one-month trip from Karbarra to Earth briefly battled over who would take on this frightful labor.

"All right. Who shoved a bluebird up your arse?" Lloyd finally asked begrudgingly, The Misfits' second-in-command figuring that it was only right that he take the initiative.

Stephanie pouted just the way she wanted to do before responding (plenty of upthrust lower lip and an almost comical widening of her pale, blue eyes). "Awwwww, don't be like that, Puppy Wuppy! Both you and Kare Bear used to love these briefings back when you first got here!"

"That was before we had the chance to really get to know you," Kara calmly pointed out, the weary half-Kryptonian trying to be at least somewhat ladylike while simultaneously slumping the right side of her head against her boyfriend's shoulder as they moved together. "Before we got to know about the Facebook obsession. . ."

"And the unhealthy amount of affection you have for blowing up digital worms with digital sheep," Lloyd added while wrapping his left arm around Kara's midriff.

"And the fact that you constantly hum the music to every video game we ever play," The Flash offered up, the eldest of the power players sliding his mask off to reveal his tired green eyes and a somewhat organized mop of red hair. "Still, to be fair, Steph. I hated Bruce's briefings well before I had even heard of you."

Kara, Lloyd, and Wally were only too happy to allow Stephanie to fume in relative silence as they prepared to enter the expansive cellar of their adopted home. Still desiring to be an occasional gentleman, Wally took it upon himself to arrange the hands of the decades-old grandfather clock in order to activate the motion sensor that would break both the physical as well as the more recently established eldritch barrier that separated the manor from the catacombs below. Taking the lead with his slow, steady movements, The Flash tried to recover himself in the sound of their heels clopping against the stone steps as they descended, the lack of whistling or a merry song proving to be quite soothing to the young father of two.

"Oh. Wally. I was meaning to ask you about the insurance thing," Kara mentioned about a quarter of the way down the path. "Did that all go through okay?"

"Eventually," Wally replied with a hint of frustration. "I mean, they weren't exactly pleased about my current lack-of-job status but it turns out that having a wife with an editorial column can help open an awful lot of doors in situations like that." The former Teen Titan and Justice Leaguer slowly tilted his head back and forth in order to soothe some of the aching muscles in his neck.

"Well, goodness, you'd think that government types'd be a mite less suspicious of an entire family seemingly falling off the face of the Earth for over a year and then just showing up halfway across the country," Lloyd pointed out with a smirk, the British half-demon weathering the punishment of his sarcasm when his girlfriend delivered a slight head butt to his left temple. "Still, I just don't understand why you didn't just have Kuttler take care of it. I mean, wot's the use of havin' the world's best hacker under your roof if you're not going to force him to do your bidding?"

The heir to Barry Allen's legacy offered his usual commander a glare that he hoped would hold enough annoyance to get his point across. "They're my children and it's my job to take care of them," Wally said with his usual dogged steadfastness. "If I can go toe-to-toe with Hank Henshaw and 100 Manhunters then I can handle the hell that is State Farm."

"Yeah, so long as Linda's there to do the heavy lifting," Stephanie teasingly offered back. "She said that you guys had to wait for an hour in the insurance office to see somebody and that you were tapping your foot against the floor so fast that you almost burst through the place's supporting beams." The wicked glare The Flash sent her way wasn't nearly enough to keep Stephanie from coming to a stop at the three-quarter point of their journey from home to work and stomping her right foot against the naturally hewn staircase with as much speed as she could muster. "Golly, Bambi. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."

The Flash replied with a one-fingered gesture that Thumper couldn't nor wouldn't respond with before leading the way into The Batcave with the sounds of Stephanie's cackling and Kara and Lloyd's sniggers ringing through his ears. Having long grown use to adjusting to the lack of natural light within the caverns, it didn't take long at all for the speedster to quickly zero in on the four people that sat awaiting their arrival. He needed little motivation to consider it a small favor that a long night of patrol had apparently rendered Batman too tired to look annoyed by their tardiness and gave a brief nod to Noah Kuttler as the hacker held up a hand in silent greeting. He then noticed the black wig haphazardly draped over Cecilia's head as she slumped in her favorite computer chair, the utter fatigue in the archer's eyes encouraging him to respond to her with a thumbs up that was dully returned a moment later.

Interestingly enough, it was the one presence there that wasn't actually in Gotham that warranted a bit more of an enthusiastic reply. Of course, the cluster of shining silver artificial limbs and armored plating seemed to give the man an appearance of cold standoffishness but the warm wisdom that rang strongly from the human parts of their newest contact was enough to remind Wally that there was a strong heart within this particular tin man in their relative midst.

"BOOYA!" exclaimed Stephanie Brown before Wally could even bother to say hello. "Damn, it's been a long time since I've seen your shiny mug, Vicky!"

As he broadcast his own audiovisual signal from the safe sanctuary of Titans Tower, Victor Stone couldn't help but display his curiosity while regarding the unfamiliar face. "Well, the disguise may be different but the smartass is still the same," he replied with his own cocky candor. "You're lookin' good, Spoiler."

"Hey! It's Robin now, Cyborg!" Stephanie fired back with her own amazing arsenal of smugness. "That charcoal hood and eggplant cape is right in the dumpster next to that old, golden body of yours."

Cyborg tried and failed to hold in his unwanted laughter, the humility forced upon him during his transitions from high-school football star to paraplegic via automobile accident to half-android hero to teacher for the next generation of superheroes allowing him enough time to see the humor in his own self-inflicted mistakes. Knowing what he and so many of the people he worked with had done and gone through, it was only natural for him to realize that the girl busting his chops could grow from being a wannabe vigilante mooning after a social recluse into whatever the hell she was now.

"Well, the only Robin I know about goes by the name of Tim Drake," he offered as a rejoinder, the quick snarl from his sparring partner leaving him convinced that he had won. "So maybe that's an issue you should go over with that man instead of me."

"As all of you already know if you've managed to get around to reading your casefiles," Noah Kuttler proclaimed, the veteran informant wisely chiming in before more unnecessary banter could rear its ugly head, "it appears that the source of the recent pandimensional disturbances may very well originate from Edward Bloomberg, a young man who has recently taken up residence within Titans Tower. In the interest of confronting this problem with greater efficiency, Mister Stone has agreed to assist us in unwrangling the potentially baffling matters of the case at hand."

"Just call me Cyborg, my man. And it's no trouble at all," Victor easily replied, the towering fellow sparing just a hint of a glance for the former information supplier for villains the world over. "Donna and Nightwing already told me all I needed to know about that prophecy you guys picked up when you were on Apokolips and I have to agree that all the information lines up. I mean, I know that Zatanna said there wasn't anything we could worry about until we learned more but. . . damn."

"You weren't the only one to make the wrong call on this, Cyborg," Batman replied, the lack of condescension in the detective's voice nearly flooring Wally as well as the proud man on the video screen. "That being said, did Bloomberg reveal anything in regards to how he received his powers?"

"Nothing outside of a story about falling through a hole during the quakes a couple years ago and coming back through the ground as a demon," Cyborg answered, the strict tone in his voice neatly unveiling the pressure he so frequently put upon himself as both a teacher and a man. "His pulse says he was telling the truth and Zatanna said she didn't sense anything funny but, still, I'm not about to pretend I'm an expert on this supernatural stuff."

"So Neron constructed a psychical glamour in order to keep others from realizing the truth about whatever contract he made with this little moppet," Lloyd broke in, the telepath and magician holding enough experience in both fields to connect the dots. "It was probably a simple exercise, especially since it was his own powers he was transferring from one dimension to another."

"So that means this Bloomberg character was able to maintain his deceit from those who would be most suspicious of any wrongdoing," The Calculator concluded while making a grab for his spectacles. "And, given his apparent affability, he would be able to maintain whatever his secret would be from those who would most likely be around him the most."

"That doesn't keep it from still being a screw-up, Mister Kuttler," Cyborg confessed, the guilt clearly more directed at himself than anyone in Gotham. "So do we know anything more about the contract itself?"

"Yeah, Zee just sent it over the mystic horn," Robin piped in, the Green Lantern always ready to step into the spotlight. "Apparently the deal was that Neron would give Eddie some of his power and he'd be able to keep it so long as he still trusted Blue Devil until his 21st birthday. But, if he didn't, then Neron would get his soul."

"And Eddie hasn't tried to talk to Blue Devil in months," added Cyborg, the half-man, half-machine allowing his audience to reach the natural conclusion. "_And _let's not forget the fact that we're 13 days until the guy's 21st birthday."

"Oh, well, of course," Robin replied while rolling her eyes. "'Cause Lord knows the good guys can't ever be smart enough to shut off the time bomb until the last, few seconds."

"Well, forgive me for my lack of command over the facts here but I fail to see how maintaining possession of a single soul would allow for the calamities that have taken place in recent weeks," Noah confessed.

"Because that's just a crack in the seam," Kara said simply. "If Neron can make that one connection and keep it then he can just keep pushing that door open until he can get some even nastier stuff through."

"Regardless of the metaphor, there isn't anything that we can do about those matters now," Batman reasoned, his firm tone demanding order. "What matters now is that we locate Bloomberg as quickly as possible and then go about doing what we can to prevent this transaction from happening. Cyborg, thank you very much for agreeing to assist us in these manners. I know your time is already occupied enough as is."

Victor Stone's one remaining human eye widened, the 25-year-old quite obviously surprised that he was being complimented so readily. "Well, this is our responsibility as well," he then replied, recovering quickly from his own surprise. "Now Nightwing told me I should talk to him if I hear any more news and he'll bring it over to you. Correct?"

"That will do," Batman replied, his sharp ears already picking up the sound of shuffling and stretching as his motley crew sensed the possibility of departure. "Likewise, we'll inform you if or when we locate Bloomberg."

Cyborg offered a quick but sincere nod of understanding. "Well, I've got to admit that I'm not a big fan of how we're trying to find Kid Devil but it would be nice to have him back under this roof. Much obliged, Batman. Cyborg out."

Batman watched the screen intently even as the formerly bright image faded to a complete shade of black. The detective had spent enough time working with the odd array of company at his back to realize that any further orders would either be ignored or done half-heartedly and, thusly, chose to say nothing as his compatriots all went on their own way. Noah would doubtlessly make a quick trip to the kitchen in order to gather a quick snack before returning to the cave to do some last minute paperwork, Wally would be sitting down with Jai and Iris in order to watch one of those inane television shows that were seemingly catered to rot the minds of impressionable toddlers and Kara and Lloyd would most likely soon retire to their shared chambers and the particulars on that matter were things that he wanted little to do with, much less know about.

And Stephanie?

Bruce preferred to not think about what Stephanie was doing with her free time. The resolve packed within that mindset nearly distracted him from the fact that he wasn't as alone as he thought he would be. Turning away from the now inactive main monitor, he couldn't help but be puzzled as Cecilia stood there about five feet to his left, the usually candid vigilante suddenly looking as if she was waiting for him to ask her something. Of course, being a detective who has tackled and warred against all manners of causation, benefits, consequences, and the faults and foibles of human behavior for nearly 25 years, he was smart enough to recognize that he had no idea how to confront the unspoken request of a 20-year-old woman and found himself forced to select the most foolish but obvious option.

"Is something wrong?"

Batman couldn't help but cringe even as he asked the question. Even a blind man could sense that something was wrong and the fact of the matter was that though he may have been the best person available when it came to finding out just what that was. . .

And. . . hell, he had taken enough browbeatings from Alfred over the decades to realize the frustration that came with the other half of that statement

"Well. . . it's nothing really. . ." Cecilia slowly replied, the hesitant words reminding Bruce that he should be paying attention now. "I just wanted. . ."

"You did a fine job on your infiltration of Forelli's operations," Batman interrupted, the detective already weary of the hesitation on Cecilia's part and the confusion on his. "You can save your casefile work until the arraignments on Forelli and the others have been finalized."

Arrowette offered a slight grin in thanks for the rare possibility of procrastination. "No. No, it's not that. It's just that. . . well, you know about that whole thing going on at Elias tomorrow, right?" Cecilia had never really liked the scuffed tap shoes she had worn to better suit her adopted persona but now she suddenly found them to be utterly fascinating. "How I'm gonna get a certificate and everything."

"You're being honored for your work in Young Justice and for your efforts in the past Olympic games," Batman clarified unnecessarily, the worthless elucidation serving as his latest means of trying to get out of this uncomfortable situation. "An effort by your mother to get back into your good graces, quite obviously. You already have my permission to attend, Arrowette. I hope that you this will allow you and your mother to establish sturdier ties."

"Well, yeah. And. . . and thank you for that," Cissie replied, the suddenly silenced, swarthier part of her quite stunned that the rest of her didn't fire back at the bold accusation with a righteously angry retort. "Well, the thing is that I looked into the honors ceremony aaaaaand I found out I could bring a guest aaaaand. . ." Not even her own nervousness could shield Arrowette from the frustration she felt at her own behavior and she hastened to what she wanted to do. "."

"What?" asked Batman, his hope that the instinctual reply was spoken with surprise rather than cold indifference (yet another tactic of his that Alfred seemed to find great joy in lambasting) quickly fading in the face of the slightest blip of disappointment in the eyes of his patrol partner.

"It's okay. Just forget I said it, huh?" Cissie mumbled hurriedly. She turned her back to Batman as she began to jog up the stairs. Odd that the quick escape, a gesture that she often criticized Bruce for employing, suddenly seemed like quite the wise option. "Good night, Batman."

Bruce provided no vocal reply, as was his way. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think that the creatures of the night that hung above his head were looking at him in quite the critical manner as he silently returned to his pile of paperwork.

* * *

_October 29__th__ - 10:32 A.M. _

Stephanie Brown had come to live for moments like this. So many nights she had spent collecting articles and stories of men and women who had staked their claim over the world through daring deeds and heroic exploits, dreaming of the opportunity to make her own mark, that the lure of being the creature behind her orange and black battle armor had simply become nothing less than an essential of her livelihood. She has and will continue to live her life to help others while always remembering that desire to be something more than she already was, that desire for fame and attention and devotion a necessary drug that would endlessly rouse her skin, muscle and bone into action.

Her prey was silent and still but there was little doubt that the calm was nothing more than prep time for the chaos that would be inflicted upon the city and world she protected once the quiet thoughts had abated and translated into action. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this was a dangerous threat, so much to the point that she nearly prayed that the combination of the eldritch protections provided by her Oan power ring and the telepathic dampeners installed within her inner ear would be enough to keep her presence hidden until she could strike and strike hard. Still, despite her nervousness, a dangerous grin couldn't help but pry its way onto her heart-shaped face, the spirit and enthusiasm she nearly always took from her work simply too much for a child born with so little to ignore. That cheer intensified as she snuck ever closer to her target until she had to fight back her chuckling, her ribs almost humming in her chest from the effort to keep her merriment in as she moved step by careful step.

It was only another handful of seconds before Robin would have her opportunity. Rising up from her crouch without a hint of noise, she brought the lower half of her right arm from where it had been wrapped around her back and the weapon of her desire flashed in front of her sights. Taking just a fraction of a second to analyze the trajectory and determine where she wanted to attack, the fair-haired Gothamite noiselessly reared her arm back, her elbow rising until it nearly grazed the small of her back. . .

"BWACK!"

Lloyd slowly opened up one eye as he often did when snapping himself out of a self-induced trance, the serene half-demon slowly following the annoyed grunts and muffled profanity as he turned to meet his failed assailant. He had been aware of the threat for nearly 30 seconds before choosing to attend to it directly, a span of time large enough for him to properly employ his telekinesis and send Robin's chosen weapon hurtling straight into her face. The explosion that began at the center of his Stephanie's face had clouded her features with a sickly looking shade of red that seemed to fall from her eyes and nostrils before sliding down her dimpled chin and pursed lips.

"Y'know, I was looking forward to eating that," The Black Dog claimed while rising to his feet, his right ring finger fast enough to catch a remnant of Alfred's smashed cherry cobbler before it fell from Robin's face. He was also quite swift enough to avoid the spray of lard, fruit, and sugar that ultimately crashed against his back as Stephanie hastily wiped the ruined scraps of her noble weaponry and fired it at him, the force of her throw not the least bit diminished by his laughter or his choice to remain still as Stephanie tried to reclaim a few shards of her dignity. Still, as embarrassed as she could have been, it wasn't as long before he heard a mockingly tired sigh as his adopted little sister moved to trudge alongside him, the two of them falling into the disturbingly easy flow that had seemed to be there even when they had just met.

"So what were you doin'?" Steph asked while examining the bits of baked ballistics that remained on her gloved hands. "I woulda figured that you and Kare Bear would be well on your way to your shag-induced sleep time by now." Rarely ever one to succumb to a call for good behavior, the third inheritor of the mantle of Robin went to work licking and sucking at her fingertips in order to get something out of her hard work.

"'Fraid that there's a few more pressin' concerns than that," Lloyd replied while continuing to look straight ahead, the veteran field commander knowing enough about his rambunctious lieutenant to refuse to rise to the bait. "That nasty bit of mystic metal that almost made you a child under the care of Solomon, if you want me to be more specific."

"You mean that Bone of Velius thingamajiggy?" asked Robin, her mockingly poor memories and grammar yet another attempt to rile up one of her favorite sparring partners. "Well, Sade did seem like he was trying hard to point out that it didn't originally belong to him."

"It _doesn't _belong to him," Lloyd seethed back, a familiar, brooding tone in his response that not even Stephanie was stupid enough to point out. "And if he's managed to get a hold of it then something's gone down that makes this situation a whole hell of a lot worse than the standard apocalypse." He could just make out the doubt in Stephanie's eyes upon noticing that she was following him to the hanger and not back to the manor proper but he chose to pay it little mind. "That's why I'm taking another trip to the netherrealms. I have to know more about what we're steppin' into before we jump in head first."

"Sooooo, you're going back to hell again despite you doubtlessly still being exhausted from the last trip you made?" asked Stephanie, the currently unmasked vigilante finding herself pleasantly amused to see that she wasn't the stupidest person under this particular roof.

"We don't know how much time we have," Lloyd insisted, the strength of his conviction interrupted deterred only slightly as he tilted his head to one side. "Y'know, I seem to recall a time in life when I thought sleep was a necessity and not just an added bonus."

"Another price of living under Wayne Manor, I suppose," Stephanie hypothesized while giving a slight shrug of her shoulders, the decorous reply earning her a chuckle. "And didn't you almost get yourself killed the first time you went down there and _that _was with those other abracadabras backing you up?"

"I'm blaming this mistake on sleep deprivation," Lloyd answered with false dullness. "Speaking of which, you should hit the hay yourself before you decide to do something stupid as well."

"Too late! I've already decided to go with you!" Stephanie cheerfully exclaimed, the proclamation drawing a melodramatic groan from her espoused big brother. "It's been a long time since the two of us got to do anything fun together and I say we become united in our stupidity and go for broke!"

It was all Lloyd could do to look at Stephanie in disbelief. "Y'know, most people wouldn't consider a journey into one of the most dangerous of dark dimensions as a sound foray even if they are trying to be monumentally stupid."

"Ohhhh, I know that," Robin responded while wrapping her right arm around Lloyd's neck, the Green Lantern applying just enough pressure to the carotid artery to bother her big brother without attempting to hurt him. "But where would big, cwanky Batman Junior be without the bold and brave Wobin?" she wheedled, a pathetically childish tone in her voice that only sounded that much more grating as Lloyd was all but forced to pick her up in order to continue moving forward.

"Ohhhhh, all right, ya nit!" Lloyd barked while resisting the urge to sling his favorite irritant down the nearest trench. "Just promise me that you'll be careful."

"ALL RIGHT!" Stephanie cheered, the adventurous soul predictably heedless to the warning. "That's what I want to hear! Puppy and Tweety off on another whirlwind, big city adventure! I love it!"

Some necessary moments of silence passed as Lloyd was allowed to take that in, a span of time just long enough to fire back a slow burn of a glare at Robin as she continued to fix him with a pert smirk.

"Just a word of warning, Tweety. You start singin' Willie Nelson and I'll feed you to the nearest pack of baby Koresh demons. While you're still alive if it is at all possible."

"Ah, promises, promises," Stephanie replied while bringing her big brother closer until she voluntarily banged the right side of her head against Lloyd's left as they shared a helping of tired laughter.

* * *

_October 29__th__ - Willy's Bar – 92 miles south of Pasadena, California – 11:02 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

The stumpy owner of the aged and frequently broken and repaired bar table he stood behind every night sometimes liked to think that he could get used to the sporadic supply of brawls and battles that his kind of establishment tended to host. Of course, all that hope was almost always extinguished the moment another fracas became the involuntary headliner of his decades-old establishment, a natural consequence if you were a Prysis demon with sagging jowls, wilting forearms and a genetically bad overbite probably had something to do with his fear. So Wi'lkosatack the Kind (or William Morris if you asked the State of California) still had a business to inherit from his late father and a family to feed so he continued to go to work expecting the annoying and potentially dangerous while doing everything he could to stay out of it.

On the bright side, he knew he could always hire bouncers to take care of the troublemakers. Or, if said bouncer happened to be currently lying in one corner of the bar with a half-dozen bullet holes in his upper right leg then he could simply cower in fear amongst the bottles of old, spiced wine and pray to the primordial gods for a miracle.

"Once again, it didn't have to come to this," said the secondary orchestrator of the ensuing bedlam, the primary still being unable to speak due to a shattered jaw and the pain brought about by being forced to swallow five of its dagger-shaped teeth. "I'm just looking for the kid. Tell me where he ran off to and I'll be on my way."

The bloodthirsty charge of a lanky Chupacabra demon didn't provide much of a wordy response, the chattering of its five rows of teeth quickly cut short as a sharp blade sliced through the beast's mandible and left the goat-sucking creature to go down in a heap. The man behind the most recent bloodshed remained standing tall among the supernatural sprawl, the gun clutched in his left hand looking more like a shotgun or some other bit of firearm that shouldn't have been held with just one hand but the proficiency displayed through the messy incapacitation of a pair of brash, young Blood Imps had gone a long way to showing that the interrogator knew what he was doing. Because of this, only a handful of the patrons that remained thought that this was a fight that they could win, the majority of them more than content to either sidle back to their tables or leave the premises altogether while still being fortunate enough to be in possession of all of their vital organs. The young, female Luxor demon that had come here to search for well-paid gentlemen of the underworld wasn't quite as lucky, the leonine wench shrieking as she found herself caught in the iron-firm grip of the hunter in their midst.

"Your body language clearly told me that you knew more than you were letting on the last time I talked to you," the words were spoken with a dull, cold certainty that left the blue-skinned demon trembling. "Now where is Edward Bloomberg?"

"All right! All right! Just _chill, _man!" shouted a shaggy-looking young man with crimson eyes and black hair as he dashed forward, the urgency in his voice clearly telling the hunter that the kid either wanted or had already proven his worth to the threatened lady. "I mean, the kid just came in here last night lookin' for a place he could hide out for a while and I told him about The Haven!"

"The Haven?" growled the hunter.

"It's a place where demons can go u. . .u. . .u. . until they can get back into sssssociety," the Luxor female gasped, the loosening of the human's grip around her throat not reducing her terror in the least. "I can give you directions. Just. . . just don't kill me! Please!"

"_NO! _No." The prospective demon suitor almost shrieked, the boy's nobility still not enough to keep him from sounding like a wailing child. "I'll take you there. Just don't hurt her."

The mask that covered the hunter's face wasn't quite enough to conceal the slight esteem he held for the kid's courage (as ill-directed and poorly displayed as it was). He offered the slightest of nods to the girl as he let her loose before silently ordering his newfound guide to lead the way, his powerful frame and the menace that exuded from it clearly informing the boy of the penalties for any further withholding or deceit.

"Geez," the red-eyed boy grumbled in fear and frustration, the stress brought about by the situation at hand getting to him just a little too much. "First that psycho, one-eyed bitch and now you," he whispered under his breath. "I mean, it's just a. . ."

That was all that the kid could get out before he was slammed against the wall. His panicked eyes were all but forced to focus on the hunter's face and that allowed him to feel the simmering rage that seemed to slip from the slight bits of breathing room provided by the man's mask and armor. There wasn't even any time to think about whether he would live or die before the sound of a gunshot rang in his ears and drove him to clench his eyes shut, his silence a prayer to anyone who would miss him or come to his aid.

"Let the little moppet go, Sladey," the shooter calmly advised the masked soldier and mercenary extraordinaire better known as Deathstroke the Terminator. "Leave him to piss his pants another day."

Deathstroke barely gave a whit of a response as his unencumbered left hand snaked behind his back to check the tear in his mask, his gauntlet-clad fingers aiding him in examining how the bullet managed to slice through the cloth around his face without piercing any portion of his skull or skin. He imagined a simple glance at the ground would reveal the trace presence of iron-gray hairs burnt and fallen at his feet but he devoted his sights instead to the confident marksman.

"You're late, Harper."

"And it's like I didn't even leave Gotham," Arsenal smartly replied while holstering his still smoking revolver. "Honestly, what is it about our kind of lives that make us want to refer to everybody by their last names?

Deathstroke returned his shrouded gaze to the petrified young gentleman still trapped by the grip of his right hand, the lack of creases on the contour of his orange and blue mask making it as if he were asking for an answer from the terrified stranger. Receiving nothing, the Vietnam War veteran casually let his captive down without a word of warning or apology, the matters at hand finally allowing the veteran mercenary to let go of at least a portion of his frustrations.

"It keeps your comrades from wanting to learn too much about you," he finally replied as he moved forward with his smooth, even paces. "I'm hoping that you can blame your belatedness on having to find the demon bratling."

"Well, no. But I will take what I can get," Roy replied, the flat, even tones of the elder soldier provoking the red-haired sharpshooter come across as even more arrogant than usual. "Word on the demon scene says that Kid Devil is staying at some place called The Haven, a little demon hang-out about 35 miles from here."

"So I've gathered," Slade pointed out while moving several steps ahead of the former Teen Titan. "I know that Oliver Queen wasn't exactly the greatest of models but do try to remain professional over the course of this expedition."

Roy briefly wondered if now was a good time to call his daughter, possibly by asking to borrow the phone of his circumstantial partner, but soon thought better of it. "Y'know, speaking of professionalism, I can't help but point out that you weren't exactly your usual cool, detached, psychopathic self with that guy. Any reason behind that?"

Deathstroke chose not to respond. To reply would be a confession that a former heroin addict, current sex addict and all-time twit had managed to get the better of him, if only for a brief, profoundly propitious moment and a man as intelligent as Slade Wilson just wasn't going to allow that. . .

"You know, I bet it has to do with that 'psycho, one-eyed bitch' that I was hearin' that guy talk about through the comm. link. I mean, if I wasn't some washed-up junkie of a soldier I'd think that you happened to know this girl who is probably following the same person we're supposed to be following."

The temptation to remove his mask, if only so the little shit behind him could be better warned to keep his trap shut, was now almost palpable for the super-soldier. Instead, he employed his superior intelligence to finally ride through his frustration, recollect himself, and counter with an observation of his own.

"Your daughter is about to turn 11, right? Given who the mom happens to be, have you ever thought about how much longer you've got until you have to think about what I'm thinking about?"

Deathstroke all but slid into the driver's seat of the classic 1962 Chevrolet Mustang he had recently taken from one of San Francisco's most ruthless gunrunners and waited for Arsenal to make his way inside. When the younger man finally did so, Slade couldn't help but find a great deal of satisfaction in the cautious, almost ruined countenance of his suddenly pale-faced companion.

* * *

_October 29__th__ - San Francisco – Elias Academy Convocation Hall - 11:29 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Cecilia would have thought that nearly a year-and-a-half of going out on the town with Roy Harper and/or Stephanie Brown would have made her more than prepared for handling awkward situations. However, as she cautiously scanned the crowded landscape, her thin, muscular frame wrapped nicely within a sleeveless, cream-colored silk dress that she hoped would make her look dignified while still somewhat accessible, the Misfits' resident archer found that she could feel just as ill at ease all by her lonesome.

She was fairly certain that she wasn't always like this. In fact, she had spent the last hour or so listening to some of her old professors talk about what a wild child she had been and providing some fairly unsettling stories to prove their claims. Hell, even some of her old teammates from the archery team had been kind enough to make their way over and speak to her the way she remembered talking before Arrowette and Young Justice and Gotham City. Athlete talk. Candor built for ego stroking and gaudy tales exacerbated by the passing of time and the eternal need to satiate one's insecurities. College majors were being tossed about like blunt weapons and summer internships and paid gigs served nicely as shields from the slings and arrows of tiny deceits.

Cecilia wanted to talk like them. She really did. But what would happen when they talked about what she was doing as she tried to grow up?

_I'm a vigilante who works with a billionaire/functional psychopath/potential replacement for the father I never had. I haven't been able to get to college or anything but I have been working on my archery ever since I left, so much so that I can put an arrow through a person's septum from 150 yards away. Just ask Carmine Falcone. . . or what's left of him anyway._

Suffice it to say, there were no shields for her to hide behind. Thus, with no real chance of fight, Arrowette did her best to calmly excuse herself from the surrounding crowd, nodding and smiling at the so many instances of people claiming they came just to see her: a gold medal winner, celebrity, killer of dozens. . .

"There you are!"

And, lest we forget, estranged daughter of one Bonnie King.

Cissie had never liked the way her mother hugged her, all forceful and bold as if she wouldn't stop unless you fired back with the same gusto. Of course, two years can be a long time for the heart to grow fonder and she found herself awkwardly returning the gesture, her right hand settling by the small of her mother's back as she rode out her own awkwardness. She waited patiently for several long seconds before Bonnie pulled back in order to present herself, the middle-aged mother and former quasi-celebrity dressed to kill in a charcoal-black gown with a deliberately broad cut at the waist that enabled the first Arrowette to show off enough of her shapely legs and strong calf muscles to draw the attention of a good percentage of men in the room. The current Arrowette, however, was torn between wanting to look horrified, snarl openly, or do whatever she could to cover her mother up and that uncertainty managed to gnaw at her far more efficiently than anything a professor or student could provide.

"I have been looking all over for you, sweetie," Bonnie exclaimed brightly while skimming her daughter's face with the tips of her long, well-structured fingers. "It's like you've been doing everything you could to avoid me."

Just like that, Cecilia's emotional ambiguity faded away in a hurry.

"_I've _been avoiding you?!" the younger woman spat. "_You _were the one who couldn't even bother to pick me up at the airport even when you said you would!" The angry words were already drawing attention but Cecilia found that she had already been quiet enough for one day. "I waited for an hour in the terminal trying to get you on your cell phone and I finally just went ahead and called a taxi." Cecilia was more than ready to go on but the sight of her mother fluttering her hands up to her face was enough to silence her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I guess I was just so busy with planning this ceremony that I had forgotten all about it." The elder of the two former professional archers was either legitimately horrified by her ignorance or was doing a good job of faking it. "Well, I'm so happy that you could make it. I'm so proud of you, Cecilia."

The hug that followed was a great deal warmer and far more intoxicating to Cecilia, the hope that bubbled up from her mother's gestures somehow managing to push through the thick wall that she had built to guard a certain portion of her heart. That construction effort had been meticulous and thorough, the job taken up with every three-hour morning training session and audition and modeling contest and celebrity interview but somehow, in a matter of a few seconds, she was the beaming five-year-old who just got a hug from her mother. Check that. She was a woman who thought she had all that she could ever want.

"Well, well, well. Who would have thought that I would run into one of our most charming up-and-comers all the way on the other side of the country?"

And how amazing could it be for blind hope to turn to shock, awe, and horror in the matter of a second-and-a-half?

In her defense though, it wasn't as if Cecilia was expecting for Bruce Wayne to make it to her apparent party. As such, she continued to gape at the billionaire playboy and the straight black-and-white Armani suit that he happened to be wearing, the ensemble's simple but picture-perfect adjustments and creases making her boss look ridiculously out of place amongst a world of petty powerbrokers and gossiping teenagers. She supposed that she could have taken some good hope from the fact that her mother was able to spot this discrepancy as well, at least judging from the almost desperate effort Bonnie put into trying not to look surprised or impressed while walking up to Bruce with enough slink in her step to draw the most foppish of bachelors.

"Oh, my. If it isn't Bruce Wayne," Bonnie gushed while melodramatically interlocking her fingers and bringing them up so that her hands would quiver in front of her chest. "Whatever brings you here to San Francisco?"

"Well, I've always liked to think I have an eye for the future," Bruce replied, his words laced with the same self-mocking confidence that he often brought to the table in situations like these. He managed to effortlessly twist his way around Bonnie despite her diligent efforts to stop him and soon he was within arm's length of the still dumbfounded guest of honor. "Cecilia here has become a valuable member of our team at the head office. Don't know what I'd do without her, in fact."

"Oh, _really_," Bonnie replied in her daughter's stead, the widower quite belated that her daughter had apparently managed to get her foot in the door of one of the richest men in America. "Well, if you're so close with my daughter then I'm sure you've heard plenty of things about me," she continued in a preening manner while extending one of her previously joined hands. "I'm her mother. Bonnie King."

The moment of "recollection" Bruce displayed as he pretended to rack his brain was not only enough to snap Cecilia out of her shock but also almost enough to get her to run into the nearby corner and resort to drown in her own embarrassment. "Oh, yes," Bruce finally replied after a surprisingly long eternity. "Can't say most of the stories have been good though," he added as Cecilia's cheeks turned an almost unhealthy shade of red. "Still, I can't imagine why she would have anything bad to say about such a charming little specimen like yourself."

And that made it official. Cecilia King-Jones, the feared and respected vigilante known as Arrowette, had officially died of discomfiture. As fate would have it though, her body had yet to catch up with her brain in terms of the effects of the prognosis so her eyes were forced to pick up the sight of her boss kissing her mother's hand in a phenomenally smarmy manner. Cissie's ears then played its deadly hand by helping her pick up the flirtatious words that her mother, _her mo-ther_, provided in response.

Of course, as ridiculous as it all could have been, that bitter soul of hers provided the final mule kick to the stomach with the realization that she may as well have not been there. Her mother was already looking for the next, best option to get her name in the good graces of the rich and famous and she was just a bit player in that hastily constructed plan. It was enough to make her rage or cry, maybe both, and it was almost a godsend when Selina Kyle made her way to Bruce's right arm, the former catburglar and current vigilante looking resplendent in a lavender gown that had quickly made her a pivotal point of attention. There was a good amount of easy poise in her movements as she casually slid her right arm around Bruce's but the quick, dangerous flicker in her jade-green eyes was enough for even Bonnie King to realize that there were some battles that she just wasn't going to win.

"Oh, I do hope that there aren't any further shenanigans this afternoon," Bonnie proclaimed with a high-pitched candor that clashed phenomenally with the hard, insistent tones that Cissie remembered from her youth. Cissie couldn't guess how much of it came from her mother trying to mend fences and how much of it came from her anger but she was already becoming too weary of guessing about such things. "I've always been impressed with Elias and its knack for protecting their students but there's been a bit of troublesome activity in the past week."

"Is that right?" asked Bruce, the socialite giving a quick, meaningful glance to the woman on his arm. "Well, I hope the chancellor has made certain to look into these things properly. We hardly need anything else to get in the way of cultivating today's best and brightest."

"Oh, I quite agree," Bonnie answered, the middle-aged-woman either heedless or unwilling to hear the slight note of disdain in Bruce's recommendation. "In fact, I've helped Elias in signing on a private investigator to look into the matters. The price may have been a bit obscene, of course, but his reputation was stellar and he does seem to have a sort of charm in his work."

"Bruce," Selina suddenly whispered in a sharp hiss, the urgency in her voice almost enough to overcome Bruce's pressing need to see how his Cecilia was holding up. The raven-haired femme fatale supposed that she would have been charmed by the obvious showing of compassion but the fact that it distracted her usually attentive lover from what was coming their way overrode that temptation with ease.

"Oh, speak of the devil, here he is now," Bonnie enthused as a gentleman moved to stand by her, the grin on the man's sharp, angular face instantly snapping Bruce back to attention. "Bruce Wayne, I would like you to meet Edward Nigma."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

DA-DUN!!!!!!!!

Okay, so maybe I'm a little late on this one. Still, this was a labor of silliness so I hope you guys don't judge me too harshly for my slight tardiness. Oh, and I worked 112 hours in two weeks. And I've been writing behavior action plans for the students I work with free-of-charge. And the final in my latest ABA training class is coming up. And I'm preparing to go back to The Memphis Zoo in order to see if I can steal a penguin.

We all have to have dreams, after all.

Don't forget to vote in the poll on my profile page, lads and lasses. Reviews for all my hard work would be nice too!

* * *

_Issue #98 Preview_

Yes, it's the return of one of Batman's oldest enemies! So how will The Riddler turn Batman's life into a living he. . . er. . .I mean. . . How will Edward Nigma's sharp mind and cunning intellect test the very depths of Batman's psyche. . . um, no. . .

How will Eddie annoy the piss out of Batman? Yeah, that sounds about right.

All this, the misadventures of Arsenal and Deathstroke, Lloyd and Stephanie's trip to Hell and Arrowette and Catwoman's attempts to get drunk in the next installment of The Misfits: _Why Families Shouldn't Reunion_. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	98. Why Families Shouldn't Reunion

Issue #98

Why Families Shouldn't Reunion

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 11:35 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

"CISSIE! AHHHH!"

The greeting was high-pitched and damn near threatened to shred through the archer's eardrums but Cecilia still couldn't help eke out a smile before being waylaid by an 110-pound mass of frenetically excited former teammate. The transplanted Gothamite found herself holding on to the embrace for just a hint of time longer than her recipient had anticipated, the resulting miscommunication resulting in Cecilia's right ear being cuffed by the familiar head of bright blonde hair as Greta Jones pulled back, the usually shy girl quickly moving to apologize for her part in the accidental collision. Her old friend's hasty words forced a bit of gasping laughter from Cissie as she remembered the joy that came from observing the emotional peaks and valleys of the usually-reserved former shapeshifter and teleporter, the memories serving as one of the more pleasing pangs of a life gone by.

"Ohmigod, you look so great!" the young retired teenage superheroine once known as Secret enthused, the Young Justice alum still stifling her own embarrassment even as the look in Cecilia's eyes practically broadcast that no social crimes had been committed. Of course, such unnecessary niceties had always been a frequent part of the young woman's repertoire. Once a shy amnesiac whose soul had hovered between the living and the dead, the 19-year-old had overcome stress that would overwhelm the most of us and her often placid nature had a history of being blighted by brief flashes of excitability or impulsive anger that occasionally livened things up in Happy Harbor.

Or in other places. In fact, Cissie could still remember stories about some of the repairs needed for Gotham City after Greta had challenged Stephanie Brown to a fight for Timothy Drake's affections.

Still, Cecilia knew that her friend had been through a lot but, despite it all, Greta managed to tough it out and keep her quiet strength. In fact, it was Greta's calm, caring nature that had gone a long way to helping her transition into a more ordinary life after Darkseid himself had stripped her of her powers. Now, nearly four years after the fact, Cissie knew that her longtime friend was quite satisfied with being just another freshman on the campus of Cal-Berkeley. Another cheerful wanderer searching for just what she would do with the rest of her life.

"Wow, you told me you were working in Gotham but you never told me that you knew _Bruce Wayne_," Greta confessed, the college student speaking the name of Gotham's favorite son with a hint of reverence that would have never been found at Wayne Manor. "And was that really The Riddler that he just dragged off? I mean, I heard your mom had hired some famous guy but I didn't think it was, like, criminal famous or anything."

Arrowette was still working hard to avoid the internal inquiries that started to stack up since the moment her boss had all but dragged the garish-dressed detective away from the proceedings with what could have been the least convincing fake grin in all the world's history. "Well, to answer your questions in order. . ." she replied while trying to remain nonchalant. "Yes, I do work for Bruce Wayne. Yes, that was The Riddler and, for bonus points, yes, the woman chain smoking out in the courtyard is my humiliated mother."

Greta was a dutiful enough friend to steer her bright, blue eyes to where her friend was staring and managed to catch the bitter look on Bonnie's face, the momentarily failed fame peddler not looking nearly as prepared to deal with wayward daughters or anxious school board members as she had been five minutes ago.

"Yeah, I guess it is, huh," the former Secret noted with hesitance, the urge to bite her bottom lip overtaking her normal desire to maintain her manners. "Y'know, I really hope you don't take this the wrong way but. . . I've always kinda thought your mom was a jerk."

Not even Greta's rushed apologies were enough to keep Cecilia from nearly crying with laughter.

* * *

Edward Nigma did not even bother to try to restrain his mirth as the usually witless socialite shoved him into a common room that bordered the hall's front lobby, the sheer entertainment he could glean from this wonderful serendipity simply too much for the former convicted felon and current darling of the world of private investigation to ignore. To be fair though, it wasn't as if he hadn't earned at least a bit of his joy. A child genius born to a family mired in its own normalcy, Nigma's unique intelligence and way of thinking had forced him to endure physical and psychological trauma from peers and family alike. That pain brought about during his formative years would go on to play a critical part in the manifestation of his lifetime of obsessions, that never sated desire to prove his intellectual superiority over those who would appreciate his gifts. And, as fate would have it, his compulsion for mind games and psychological warfare would tempt him to dive into the cornucopia of freaks and savants classified as Gotham's celebrity criminal element.

He became The Riddler, a man fixated with the desire to bestow his intellectual superiority to the world in general and, eventually, to one Dark Knight of Gotham City in particular. Of course, even he wasn't buried far enough within his own ego to recognize that he would never be Batman's physical equal. He would similarly never be classified as the hero's greatest rival but there were two specific facts that separated him from the Jokers, Penguins, and Scarecrows. The first was that only he could beat Batman at his own game on any given night. The second was that he knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne.

Oh, and how that second one made him happy to no end.

"Why are you here, Nigma?" Nigma heard Wayne rumble out through gritted teeth. His flawless dress suit may have been a clear-cut representation of the billionaire playboy but every other part of him was screaming from his darker half and the recognition that he could generate such a response from someone that had antagonized him for years on end filled The Riddler with a kind of confidence that no antidepressant could provide.

"Now, now, o shrouded captain. Ask me your questions with kindness and I shall tell you no lies," Nigma readily replied, his instinctual urge to shrink away in the face of a maximum power Batglare barely avoided. "The circumstance is just as the morally reprehensible Miss King proclaimed. I came here to investigate the peculiar goings on within this fine academy in order to provide some of my most favored clients with some profitable peace of mind."

Bruce didn't even try to hide his contempt. "A case like this is far too small for someone with your loathsome lust for celebrity."

"Well, we can't all be born millionaires, _Yew Cure Ban_," Nigma countered with a showy shrug of his shoulders. "You know, I must confess that I am having a difficult time understanding your attempts to keep me from earning a proper wage, good sir. I'm hardly doing anything illegal and my work record clearly reveals that I have earned my public reputation as the world's leading expert on deductive reasoning." Nearly every word was serving as ammunition designed to chip away at the pride and self-worth that Batman always tried to hide and the bizarre looking facial tics that had started to appear on Bruce's face told Nigma that his choice of weaponry was hitting the proper spots. "Personally, I would think that a man of your vast fortune and success would be better off finding more efficient ways of spending your time. Perhaps in taking some kind of action against irresponsible street vigilantes?"

Bruce was only moments away from throttling the smarmy little shit before Selina butted in on the proceedings, the determined femme fatale looking quite disappointed but somehow not the least bit surprised. "All right, time to deflate that overly large cranium of yours," she said in a stern manner, her tone and temper enough to bring the two squabbling detectives back to some kind of sanity. "Okay, the two of you just forced me to spend several painful minutes covering up your latest battle of the egos," she reminded Bruce and Eddie while crossing her arms along her front. "So I'm hoping that you've spent at least some of your alone time trying to figure out how you're going to make it up to me."

"Well, allow me to start by complimenting you on your 'catch', as it were," Nigma offered while placing his gloved hands around the straps of his black suspenders, the supports mixing well with the man's white dress shirt but still managing to clash horribly with the customary green-and-purple suit and slack set that he was so fond of wearing while on the job. "The billionaire playboy may not have a great deal to offer in terms of emotional capacity but I'm sure the manor offers plenty of opportunities for those theft and pursuit games the both of you are so fond of."

Selina was quick enough and smart enough to slide in front of her agitated lover and laid a hand on the center of Bruce's chest, the move also bringing her to the center of the quarrel. "We weren't on any of the guest lists so I've got the chance to hope that this is just some horrible coincidence. So if you're really here for some detective work then it would be wise if you told us what you're investigating."

There was a split-second where The Riddler looked as if he wanted to play just a little bit more but Nigma ultimately chose to agree to the terms with a simple nod of his head. "It is a surprisingly intriguing case, believe it or not. At first I had naturally assumed it to be nothing more than a series of juvenile pranks. The stage floor collapsing and the damage to the football field and perhaps even the bomb threat but the link to the case is ridiculously obvious to the point where it hardly requires attention. Still, it will take a minor amount of time to determine the correct avenue to pursue the perpetrator."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," Selina flatly replied, the current mediator easily blunting the force of Bruce Wayne's sneer while preparing herself to be bored.

* * *

_October 29__th__ - Hong Kong – Tenryu Enterprises – 6:21 A.M. East Asia Standard Time_

Lloyd had been greeted by more than his fair share of anomalous customers in the nearly eight years he had the opportunity to make his way through the ground floor of the tallest building on the island. From extraterrestrial dignitaries to hell beasts to celestial entities to demonic creatures masquerading as holy creatures (and occasionally vice versa), the man dubbed The Black Dog by the late designer of this commercial haven was honored to be among the select few to be aware of most of the building's stories and secrets. That being said, even he found himself taken aback a titch by the presence that was there to meet him on this particular occasion. It was not the most unwelcome of presences, mind you, but the sight of a frightfully thin, heavily scarred dandy man performing cartwheels on the front desk as his misaligned legs flopped above his upper body like wet leaves on a drain gutter was probably a photo that wouldn't make it on the cover of _Forbes_.

"Oh, how splendiferous it is to see you once again, Mister Thomas," Peter Merkel Jr. all but cooed as he turned his heavily scarred face towards him, the dandy freak and contortionist known to his friends and enemies as Ragdoll obviously pleased to see someone he so frequently linked to chaos and pandemonium. "Oh dear, it appears that all that Jello I consumed for breakfast made me a bit overfervent. Please pardon me for a moment."

Lloyd was diligent in his attempts to look nonplussed as Merkel twisted his purposefully broken legs back to their normal state, for a profound lack of a better term. The transition was done with a great deal of loud snapping as bones slid through muscles before becoming reattached through Merkel's cybernetic joints and the repulsive sounds prompted Stephanie's eyes to nearly bug out of her head while Soon Yun Seung, the unfortunate secretary assigned to the aforementioned desk turned a particularly nauseous looking shade of green before rushing for the nearest bathroom. The moment that Ragdoll put into asking the retreating woman if she was all right allowed Lloyd a bit of laughter as one of his oddest acquaintances rolled back to his feet with only a single separated shoulder to show for all of his hard work.

"It has been far too long since we've had the opportunity to work together," Ragdoll noted while moving his scraggly arms forward to clasp Lloyd's left hand. "That tiny difference of opinion that you and dear Scandal had with Johnny Stitches and Intergang, if memory serves?"

"Sounds about right," Lloyd replied while leading the way to the familiar main stairwell. "Poor, bloody bastard never was able to put himself back together again."

"Well, then he shouldn't have picked such an obvious nickname," Stephanie pointed out while pulling up the rear, her sights momentarily distracted by observing Ragdoll's odd, spider-like gait. "So how's the rest of the team doing, Rags?"

"Oh, just celebrating the torture of tedium," Ragdoll said brightly while clambering towards the left banister of the lobby's main stairwell. "Miss Scandal is quite busy running this delightful little bane of personal freedom, I believe Thomas is seeing Miss Helena in Gotham while doubtlessly brooding over his violent, bloody, but somewhat compelling spiritual rebirth."

"Yeah, people put waaaaay too much drama into stuff like that," Stephanie said in agreement, her Oan power ring receiving just the slightest of glances from its owner.

"Oh, I quite concur," Ragdoll added, his body evenly balanced upon the two-inch wide metal rail banister as he continued to climb along with Lloyd and Stephanie. "Victor, of course, is distancing himself from any form of grief or emotion whatsoever by devoting himself to the investigation of alien technology gathered by the late Mister Tenryu while the charming provider of pain you commonly refer to as Batgirl has succeeded in putting quite a dent in this city's drug trafficking and child slavery rackets."

"Of which there is always a gainful supply," Lloyd noted as he reached the apex of the staircase, his enhanced senses not picking up a trace of lasting harm or injury from the violent explosion that had placed the skyscraper into condemned status for nearly three months. "And that, inevitably, leads us to you."

Ragdoll's fingers were somehow bent at a near 180-degree angle from his right wrist as he brought the appendage to where it hung just above his face, the gesture a ridiculously melodramatic way for the freak and murderer to falsely display his surprise. "Oh, well, I have been most occupied as you can imagine. I required some time to recover my creative juices after my stint in Gotham, of course, but I am proud to say that my latest production of _Twelfth Night_ went splendidly. Well, save for one potentially frightful moment when one particularly inebriated child pornography peddler attempted to slice my Viola in two. The poor dear has been fretting in her cage ever since, I'm afraid."

Lloyd found himself quite grateful that Stephanie's inevitable questions were interrupted by a pair of familiar brunette females exiting from the elevator in front of them. The elder of the two was dressed in an unruffled, black-and-gray business suit that was far better tailored and upmarket than anything ever worn by Mao at times like these but the warmth from the woman's slight, wry smile defied the hard outer casing. The younger woman was significantly well clothed with a sleek, black, knee length dress but any attempts to make a greeting of any kind were quickly interrupted as Stephanie rushed forward and glomped Cassandra with a blind supply of enthusiasm that Scandal clearly found to be not the least bit appropriate.

"Well, good afternoon, little brother," Scandal greeted in a rather contrite fashion. "And I suppose I'll say hello to Stephanie as well when she's finished humiliating herself." The stringent tone in the voice of the chief executive officer of Tenryu Enterprises was enough to coerce Robin into letting go of Batgirl, a girlish giggle bubbling through the Green Lantern's lips in the midst of being reunited with one of her oldest friends. "Are you here for a tour of the newly refurbished Tenryu Tower or should we just continue on to the more stressful matters?"

"Afraid that The Bane of Velius is gonna have to take precedent," Lloyd replied while allowing his adopted big sister to lead the way back to the spotless, glass elevator, just another of Mao's ideas to promote the virtue of transparency within one of the most shadowy corporate operations in the world's history. He took a moment to make room for his fellow passengers and admired the annoyed look on the face of Cassandra Cain as Stephanie attempted to muss her hair, another effort doubtlessly designed by the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns to bother her reticent friend. "Have to say that I wasn't expecting you to want to take a direct role in this matter," he added while allowing Ragdoll enough room to sidle over to his right. "Would've expected Fries for this one."

There was a decidedly mordant tilt to Scandal's lips as she turned around to face both Lloyd and his accusation. "Well, as enthralling as hours-long assemblies with bored dignitaries and various government agencies can be, I still occasionally feel the need to work my way through more physical deeds of derring do."

"Oh dear, I did not know that this was such an imperative flight of fancy," Ragdoll butted in, his upper body leaning forward so that his eyes were even with his boss's left hip while his lower body somehow managed to remain propped up against the back wall of the elevator. "You know, there are a number of young, enterprising members of the local prostitution community available in the phonebook, many of which hold a surprisingly flexible array of talents and abilities. Why, some of them are gifted enough to remain quite composed even while engaging in sadomasochistic exercises or mutilation or bestia. . ."

"Merkel. . ." Scandal cautioned with a cluck of her tongue, the kindly-toned recommendation offered by her freakish associate somehow managing to stun even the already occupied Stephanie. Sparing a brief glance to Ragdoll while pondering over the marvel that she had never gotten around to killing the posh contortionist, she then chose to continue on. "You're not the only one who has history with the proper owner of that blade, little brother. In fact, you may have been the first to begin the bargaining but some of us were also put to the task of keeping your side of the deal."

The leader of The Secret Six waited a moment to allow Lloyd the opportunity to present her requested reply and was pleased with the slow, understanding nod she received in return. "And besides, after all the corporate-based drudgery of the past several months, it would do me some good to endure most of the mayhem that comes with guarding your soul on your latest trip to the nether dimensions. It has been a while, after all."

Lloyd put so much effort to keep from cinching up that it almost could have been considered heroic in some certain sets of circumstances. Of course, most of those settings didn't involve a woman who knew him inside and out and the suspicious glare that bloomed onto his big sister's face soon brought whatever bravery he had down to the shyness where it belonged.

"Well, actually shrew. . . I had already called Kara about it and she said she'd come down once everything is prepared," he finally explained with the utmost of care, his desperate, lifelong fear of disappointing the various ladies in his life (except Stephanie, of course) working quickly to creep into his voice until his rough, British lilt was barely discernible. "I mean, it's not that I don't trust you with it, of course but, y'know. . . She's a lot stronger and all."

"Oh, that's fine," Scandal quickly answered, the response far too clipped and hasty to sound truly genuine. "I completely understand, Lloyd. This is a potentially dangerous mission, after all. It's only fair that you prepare for whatever the both of you will encounter." The tone of the consideration allowed for several seconds of profoundly awkward silence to pass on through as Lloyd and Scandal wondered if they should say anything else while Cassandra and Stephanie pondered over whether or not they should start taking sides.

"Oh dear," Ragdoll said fretfully. "If only my sweet Orsino could present such silent disappointment. How my production would have flourished. . ."

"Shut up, Merkel," Scandal bit out just as a sharp _ding _sounded in the elevator and the doors swung open. As she had expected, the mercenary and commercial leader had company waiting on her once again, this time in the form of a polished, well-maintained suit of gray and arctic-blue battle armor that made the person inside the stern carapace look a great deal more imposing than he would have been without it. However, though the body of Victor Fries would never replenish the vitality and robustness found in its youth, the mind of the world's preeminent cryogeneticist remained as strong as ever.

"So pleased that you could make it," the man known and feared as Mister Freeze claimed, his voice modulation devices delivering the greeting in a monotonic candor that made it sound as if the reformed criminal mastermind couldn't care less. "The divination chamber is prepared in accordance to your specifications, Mister Thomas."

"Would've expected nothing less, old man," Lloyd said brightly while moving to accept Freeze's gauntlet-covered right hand (while conveniently avoiding the still lingering disappointment that just seemed to want to hang in the air like one of Roy's stale beer farts). "So I finally tempted you into watchin' the hoojoo juju that I do, yeah?"

The disappointed _tut _somehow managed to ring straight through Fries' otherwise closed countenance as he moved to lead the way. "Science may explain how we are and what we come to be but it would be foolish to believe that it holds the universal remedy for all of our troubles. The mere possibility of witnessing a partial transference between separate planes of reality is an opportunity that no true surveyor of the unknown would ever willingly choose to ignore."

"Well, I'll do what I can to bring it into fruition then," Lloyd answered, the half-demon finding himself somewhat inspired by the erudite excuse. Unfortunately, that boost of good will seemed to evaporate upon a single involuntary backwards glance. "Shrew, I, um. . . Look it's not that I don't trust you. You know I do. It's just. . ."

"No. It's fine. Perfectly fine," Scandal shrewdly countered, the near-century old warrior woman trying and failing to act her age before moving on to another tactic. "Say, Stephanie. I saw Bruce and Selina at The Breeder's Cup just the other week. Just how is that relationship going?"

Lloyd shut his eyes tightly, the combination of the sharp intake of breath from Stephanie and the anger exploding from the vociferous rejoinder that came after it allowing him to realize that this was going to be a long day.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 11:52 Pacific Standard Time_

Cissie couldn't quite tell anymore whether she was running from her mother or her mother was running from her. On the one hand, the lack of comfort offered by her dress heels proved that she was moving around and that she wasn't being the distant one but her refusal to be the proper lady that was supposed to come with her attire put a nice helping of guilt onto what was already an overcrowded emotional sundae. Realizing this, the current Arrowette decided to make her way to the refreshments table as quickly as she could while simultaneously trying to draw as little attention to her as possible (no small feat considering the noisy events just a scant quarter-of-an-hour ago). She tried to tune out the click of her heels against the wooden tile and the feeling of silk sliding against her stomach since she was becoming more and more convinced that she would burn this dress the moment she could, consequences and stern dismay from Alfred Pennyworth be damned.

_Stupid pretty dress. Stupid confusing Batman. Stupid predictable mom. _

_Stupid little me thinking that I could have changed any of them._

"Stupid spoiled brat entitlement training academy," mumbled another disgruntled partygoer. "Can't even get anybody to spike the punch bowls right."

Cecilia swept her sights off the ground and the hem of her dress as her ears took in the sound of Selina's increasingly familiar causticity. Risking the threat of receiving attention, the young archer watched as Catwoman placed a half-empty cup of some crimson-red fruit concoction down on the nearby table, the small, plastic mug quickly intermixing with a half-dozen of its brethren in their own tacky and poorly zoned environs.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Selina raised a well-maintained eyebrow at the possibility, the confident demeanor behind it already giving the younger woman pause. "That depends, sweetie. Are you one of the kids that hate me?"

Arrowette couldn't help but be caught off guard, so much so that it took her a bit longer than she liked to respond. "No, no. I'm the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl without the father abandonment issues." The casually depreciatory description earned the archer a sharp smirk from her addressee and that gesture encouraged her to press forward. "Well, I guess I'll start with the easiest one first. Just what _is _the deal with Bruce and that Riddler guy anyway?"

Catwoman pursed her lush, full lips together, the streetwise socialite clearly expecting the question. "Well, at the risk of sparing us about ten minutes worth of boring explanations, I think I'll just get to the important stuff and point out that people like us, guys and gals that have been prancing around in tights and body armor more often in their life than not, tend to look for distractions when they can find them."

The younger of the two women tried hard not to take umbrage with the somewhat ostentatious opening strike while her eyes caught a familiar sight on the opposite side of the room. She wisely chose to avoid the irony that her senses were so quick to root Bruce out from the center of the gathered crowd, her boss and patrol partner in full "fop mode" as he entertained all comers in his usual, self-degrading manner.

"Okay. Care to explain that?"

Selina was quick to oblige. "I'm not talking about that. _That _is just a means to an end," the raven-haired woman replied with a quick click of her tongue as she joined Cecilia in watching Bruce work. "What I'm saying is that when you spend the last twenty years or so dealing with monsters like Harvey or Isley or The Joker, well, it's nice to have an opportunity to get your yayas out in a way that doesn't usually lead to danger and property damage."

Now it was Cecilia's turn to raise an eyebrow in response to an unexpected burden. "All right. . . so where do you and Calculator Lite fit in?"

A throaty purr readily served as Selina's preemptive response and Arrowette recognized the move as a measure of approval before Catwoman continued on. "Well, Eddie always gave Bruce the opportunity to stretch his mind out, even if it was done with half-baked riddles and second-rate mind games, and the both of them found an opportunity to test themselves against somebody that beat them before, which is always a well-kept addiction when it comes to snooty little know-it-alls like them." The amused snort that crept from Arrowette's nostrils only stretched Selina's grin further. "And as for me? Well, let's just say that our little rooftop recreational activities allowed us both to get some good physical exercise."

There was a droning noise from Cecilia as she couldn't stop her face from falling, her downcast expression allowing her to take another, intensely critical gander at her dress and tempt her into wondering if she should have gone with something a little more risqué. "Well, I've been working with Bats for two years now so what the hell do I have to do to find somebody to exercise with?" she couldn't help but glumly ask as a lock of blonde hair fell in front of her left eye. She knew it was a disheartening move and not at all appropriate for the yang to Bruce Wayne's yin but she found herself relieved by Selina's soft laughter as the former cat burglar stunned her by wrapping her up in a loose hug.

"Awww, you're worrying too much, sister. You're just a tough, little cookie. I think all you need is to just give it some time and don't try too hard and you'll find somebody who will risk their teeth for you."

Cissie would have paid good money not to understand the full meaning behind that metaphor but her failure to avoid it prompted her to let out an annoyed huff that blasted the errant strand of her fair hair back out of her sights. "Well, you seem to have had some good luck with finding an exercise partner," she noted while keeping the entendre aloft. "Got any advice for the short term?"

"Well, I would first advise an immediate and decisive exodus from the immediate company you keep in regards to your chosen profession," replied a much more masculine and cultivated candor than the one currently being presented by the longtime bane of _The Gotham Post_. "After all, the past decades have clearly shown that women who have chosen to align themselves with one Bruce Wayne have a tendency to become little more than starving rabbits hoping for the slightest nip of a carrot."

"Says the 42-year-old man who could count his number of successful romantic relationships without his toes and still have his right hand to spare," Selina fired back at her old friend, her comeback doing little to break Nigma's smug, self-satisfied attitude as he moved to examine the event's refreshments. "And shouldn't you still be bothering Bruce?"

The Riddler responded by taking a deep sip from the cheap, plastic cup daintily held by his right hand, the mockingly refined man letting out a histrionic sigh of contentment that went perfectly with his shit-eating grin. "Miss Kyle, I have long prided myself for developing the diligence and perception that comes with successfully tugging at the brainstem of Gotham's dark champion while still escaping a violent repercussion. This day allows me with another opportunity to prove my ability in that dangerous field."

"Well, if he's not going to keep him company then I am," Cissie proclaimed while refilling her own cup. "Might as well get this shit out of the way while I still have enough courage to do so," she added without a word of thanks or a grateful gesture as she made her way to the western side of the hall.

Quite used to enduring the emotional handicaps that seemed to spread through those who lived at Wayne Manor, the lady behind the infamous Catwoman took it upon herself to watch the younger woman's movements with a concerned eye. How odd was it that she would unwillingly take so much effort into sympathizing with that one while most of Bruce's adopted family either drew her ire or slid underneath her radar?

"Ah, the burdens of another adolescent taken under the frayed strings of Gotham's gloomiest puppeteer," Nigma offered, the unnecessary observational taunting drawing him another annoyed glare. "And whatever could that look be for, Miss Kyle?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Eddie?" Selina finally asked, tiring of the game.

Nigma let out a huff as he put his cup back down next to Selina's little collection. "First Mister Wayne and now you, _Sane Likely_. Is it so inconceivable to believe that my reentry into public service is nothing more than the adoption of a legitimate career?" asked the freelance detective with a supposedly charming smile.

"Absolutely," Selina quickly replies. "Oh, and for the record, I will scratch your eyes out and give them to Iris to play with if I hear one more anagram."

The grisly threat prompted The Riddler to let out a disappointed frown, the flamboyantly-dressed investigator somewhat dismayed to be in the midst of another person who couldn't quite appreciate his humor. "Well, I may not spend my nights hunting masked monsters or tattooed ruffians but I believe I can still safely say that you would be a bit of a hypocrite to comment on another criminal's attempts to abstain from one's past lifestyle. And, for the record, I believe we've both notices that there are a great many available advantages within an honest life for those with the skills to survive it. I'm particularly fond of the lack of court summonses and trips to local trauma centers, for example."

"And it pisses Bruce off," Selina added with a slight, knowing smile.

"That is an unnecessary bonus and nothing more," Nigma replied with decisive indignation, the merest thought of any alleged connection between him and his supposed fellow vigilante intellectual quite affronting within the situation at hand. "But since we are on the relative subject, exactly why did you choose to accompany your shadowy paramour to this bright San Francisco afternoon? It is simple enough to determine that Wayne is here for the benefit of his young comrade but such foolish munificence is not something to be expecting from you."

Nigma's words could have been seen as a gesture of good will, if only because it gave Selina an opportunity to scoff and look away for a moment to avoid a knowing glance. "I'm just here to see what happens," she inevitably replied, her jade-green eyes challenging Nigma to disagree. "Not to mention that even the most liberated of my kind would be a fool to turn down a night of dining and dancing at The Savoy."

It was rare for Nigma to be interested with some simple psychoanalytical reservation but two decades of interacting with someone as wonderfully predictable as Miss Kyle helped his inquisitiveness rise to the surface. "Well, and we also know of the saying of what happens to what you emulate when your curiosity gets the better of your individuality," The Riddler fired back in a contented manner, the airy lilt in his over-refined tone quickly drawing his friend's ire. "So have the thorns of your own trap managed to start scraping at your skin yet?"

"Spare me the dime store psychology, Eddie," Selina growled back while raising another plastic cup in front of her lips. "I get enough of that from your impersonators."

Nigma wrapped the long, delicate fingers of his right hand around his bony chin. "My apologies, Selina," he said earnestly, the words earning him a bit of a relief. "However, given our various compulsions, I am obliged to mention that you have spent years hunting, perhaps even stalking this man in one form of fashion. Whether you were pursuing Mister Wayne for his physical prowess or for that misshapen, psychosomatic lump of neuroses that I can only presume to be his charm, the fact remains that you have captured him, or at least a sound enough portion of him to bring about your choice to engage in this kind of uncharacteristic, self-conflicting behavior."

Edward Nigma had a long history of pressing the emotional buttons of frightfully violent people. There were many times in which he succeeded and almost just as many where he failed in his pursuits or was foiled by his own limitations but that time had given him the opportunity to recognize when his efforts were drawing substantial metaphorical fruit. That said, the evasiveness and silence that surrounded his old friend may as well have been the veritable red switch beneath a glass casing.

"So the question becomes," he unnecessarily concluded. "What happens when the cat no longer has to chase its prey?"

* * *

_October 29__th__ - 11:41 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

"Y'know, now that I really have the chance to think about it, our personal history stretches a lot further back than that time you ruined my professional career."

Most people equipped with the wherewithal to sense a potentially volatile situation would have been kind enough to simply allow the last half-hour to pass and let the peaceful hum of four wheels on a lightly crowded expressway soothe and prepare them for whatever stressful events were to come. And, indeed the well-kept, polished wheels of the Ford Mustang certainly provided a comfortable ride, the deep tread of the rubber enough to eliminate the argument of trading speed for comfort and helping bring together an experience that most automobile aficionados would kill to experience.

"Don't blame your incompetence on how simple it was for me to bring it to the surface. You organized that pathetic operation you called The Outsiders around case data given to you by an unconfirmed informant that you took for granted simply because he wore a bat on his armor and spoke with a ridiculously unnecessary growl. In fact, perhaps you should thank me for relieving you of your leadership position before your outright stupidity could further endanger others as well as yourself."

Then again, Roy Harper and Slade Wilson were never "most people".

"Well, much obliged for the support then," Arsenal gamely acknowledged while barely resisting the urge to prop his feet on the dashboard. "But back to the point at hand. I mean, if you really stop to look at it, we've got a whole lot of history together. Granted, it's not to the level of you and Dickie to where you stop and wonder if the two people in question have some kind of unresolved mancrush going on but still pretty significant."

The world's most feared assassin remained silent, his strong hands clenching at ten and two since it seemed like the only reliable substitute for throwing his uncouth companion out the passenger side window.

"I mean, hell, your daughter babysat my daughter back when I was still working with the Titans!" Roy chose to consider the elder sharpshooter's silence as permission to continue on and he chose to do so with his words as well as a series of wild gesticulations of his hands and arms to improperly convey his point. "In fact, there were even a few times she stayed in the guest room when Young Justice was overseas on a mission or whatever and, y'know, it just seemed rude to tell her to go get a hotel room." The younger of the two fathers shook his head back and forth while finally giving in and reclining to his fullest, the heels of his red and black boots just barely scuffing the black leather dashboard. "She's a real sweet kid. Sure hope she hasn't gotten in with the wrong crowd."

"Why do I ever even bother to work with Wayne's lot," Deathstroke thought aloud, the veteran of hundreds of battles not even bothering to regard his attacker. "It's not as if I was blind to the possibility that I would have to deal with something like this."

"But yet we're here together, Officer Murtaugh," Roy pointed out with a cheery grin. "And just how many days do you have until retirement?"

Slade brought the car to a quick stop, the sudden sojourn forcing out a squawk from the red-headed punk as the toes of his feet were forced to thump against the front window. Of course, as much flack as Deathstroke could give the boy, he also knew that Harper would soon be ready to do his work and he moved to swing open his car door and stand from the vehicle. Having taken a quick stop to remove his familiar battle armor before arriving, his six-foot-four, 265-pound frame was now snugly encased within an Oxford-made suit that didn't seem the least bit appropriate for a man assigned with the task of bringing back a wayward half-demon. Roy, on the other hand was ready for war in his familiar red and black leather and titanium mesh battle armor he had worn since those aforementioned Outsiders days, the gear equipped with a variety of holsters and compartments designed to hold a variety of blunt projectiles and spare cartridges.

"You know, I know I'm probably the last person who should be pointing this out," Roy began again as he moved to walk side-by-side with his long-striding partner, "but you've got to admit that damn near every attempt you've ever made to interfere with the life of your daughter usually ends up pretty badly."

"Yes, you are the last person who should be talking of such things," Slade flatly fired back, the heels of his dress shoes clopping against the cement. "And I am here to do my part in cutting off this prophecy before it comes to pass. My daughter is more than capable of taking care of herself."

Roy tilted his head to one side. "Sooooo, knowing this, you're taking on a job, without pay, that involves fetching a guy that your daughter may or may not be interested in because of a prophecy told to a woman you tried to kill in the past by the spirit of a girl who you took advantage of in order to make good on another contract you only took up because of the accidental death of your first-born son." The rather pointed presentation of the confusing, though relevant, facts finally earned him a cold glare from the iron-haired assassin but it still wasn't enough to keep Roy from flashing a dubious frown. "Yeah, I'm sorry, buddy. I just can't believe I would even think that you were just all business about this."

"Well, if you insist on making this personal then allow me to make a suggestion, Harper," Slade bit back, the man's usually deep reservoir of patience having obviously dried up. "Do not tell another father about what he should or should not be doing to protect his daughter while expecting someone else to take care of your own."

Both parties then figured it was only fair to let the silence reign as they finished the trip to their destination. The site appeared to be nothing more than a recently abandoned factory from the outside, the slightly rusted over gray building bordered by garbage receptacles and forgotten bric-a-brac seemingly serving as another casualty of the economic down times that had hit the surrounding area. Of course, even the best of disguises had their faults if one had enough time to look at it. The scuffs and black tread marks that dotted the asphalt were just a bit too evenly placed, the tarnishing looking a bit too convenient for an inquisitive soul to assume that it was all just the result of once standard, everyday traffic. Likewise, the piles of junk and the orange security tape that surrounded some of the main entrances, despite its dilapidation from the early spring rains, were looking better than it should have been. The piles seemed to have been stacked recently despite the fact that there was no real reason why it should have been and the glue strings of the tape were still somehow strong enough to remain aloft when they should have drooped down to the ground weeks ago from the strain of the accumulative pressure.

"So this is The Haven," Roy noted while tilting his head upward to scan the north side of the roof. "What kind of approach do we want to take here?"

Slade responded with action rather than words, an option he had longed to perform after the 45 minutes he had just endured. Striding through the security tape and stomping over the pile of garbage that "protected" one of the building's old loading docks, his movements appeared unhurried but it was all Roy could do to dash and catch up to his partner by the time the old man had slid open the metal rail door separating that part of The Haven from the outside. The creak of the rusted metal and the glow of the sunlight that was finally able to stream through the fairly empty space invoked a clamor from many of the denizens inside, the vast majority of them being far from human or anything else that most people would connect to an vacant building. There appeared to be at least 50 creatures inside, at least from what Roy was able to estimate in the short time he was allowed to do so, and he could just begin to recognize that a small percentage of the surprised throng was loaded for bear by the time Slade had made his next move.

"There's no need for alarm." Deathstroke's words were calm and certain and seemed to somehow touch every corner of the 10,000 square-foot facility. "We know that Edward Bloomberg has been here recently and we only require information in regard to his personal whereabouts. Provide that and no harm will come to you."

Arsenal found himself behind on the clock once again, this time with providing the suggestion that perhaps his straightforward colleague could have picked his words a little better. This time, however, he was fairly certain that he was able to beat Slade to at least one punch as he heard a faint racket stemming from one of the looming catwalks that hung over the center of the shipping area. As he swept his blue eyes back upward, he was able to correctly guess what he was going to see before he actually managed to find it.

"I cannot _believe_ that you would do this!" Rose Wilson yelled back, the indignant screech in the woman's voice something that could only be brought forth by a profoundly humiliated daughter. "I joined The Teen Titans because you said that I could do my own stuff and now you're following me?! And you dragged _Harper _with you!"

"This doesn't have anything to do with you, Rose," Slade replied, an ingratiating patience in his words that only an exhausted father could provide.

"Bullshit."

"Quiet, Harper. This is about that young man you've been parading around on a leash for the last four months when you should be learning how to work with a team."

"Oh, don't you get all sanctimonious with me, you old bat," Rose hissed back while yanking her mask free from around her face, the shoulder-length curtain of gray hair swishing free as the silver patch over her right eye caught a hint of the sunlight. "If you and the rest of that Hitler Youth want Eddie then you're gonna have to go through me 'cause I'm not about to let somebody else get jerked around by you or a bunch of heroes all shacked up in a pretty tower!"

Roy chose to remain silent while lowering his left hand until the tip of his index finger was grazing the holster of his tranquilizer-loaded revolver, the marksman already estimating how much it would take to bring his rebellious friend down when he finally managed to lock-in on the other half of the expected solution. Of course, he had managed to look at a few snapshots of the kid beforehand but Roy still managed to be taken slightly aback by the red-skinned half-demon that scooted up to Rose's left. His glimmering yellow eyes, shoulder-length gray hair, and the faint presence of horns above his bushy eyebrows could have been the foundation of a frightening creature but the kid was not an inch over five-feet-eight and his lean, muscular frame was projecting a variety of cautious movements that eliminated almost all of the intimidation in an instant. Most importantly, there was too much caring in those eyes, the trepidation and tenderness that Eddie Bloomberg put into resisting the urge to touch Rose's elbow making it sad to consider that the boy's soul would soon belong to Neron.

"Let's just go home, Rose," Eddie pleaded, his words soft but the wide expanse of the setting allowing his words to be heard by anyone who wanted to listen. "I mean, I know it was a good idea but maybe if we just go back. . ."

"NO! We're not going back!" Rose snapped, a snarl on her lips as she reached for the twin blades strapped to the scabbards on her back. "If you go back then they'll send you off to Neron like you're a fuckin' party favor and I'm not going to lose anybody else because that one-eyed bastard down there wants to stick his nose where it didn't belong."

Arsenal managed to keep the pace during the next string of events, so much so that he had the time to roll his eyes as Rose leapt to the ground below with a brilliantly crafted triple somersault. Likewise, he thought he presented a great deal of restraint as he kept himself from screaming upon recognizing that Slade was making no effort to stop what was happening. Naturally, that self-respect skyrocketed as Bloomberg leapt down as well, the obviously smitten boy apparently quite quick to join in the insanity in order to meet Ravager's wishes.

_Damn scary when __**I'm **__the most mature guy in the room_.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Auditorium – 12:09 Pacific Standard Time_

"Figured I'd find you here," Cecilia reported while gently shutting the double doors, the soft _clack _of the metal hinges almost startling her. She had grown pleasantly used to the lack of noise in the halls she walked down the pathways linking the equally empty classrooms, the silence sounding so different from the bustle and clamor that had originally drawn her interests when she first made her presence felt in this decidedly esteemed setting. Looking back, it was quite obvious that the appeal came from how it was so different from that damnable target range here the only source of distraction was her mother's determination and the occasional droning of cicadas and dragonflies. Likewise, the excited chatter and banging of lockers served as the polar opposite from those waiting rooms of talent agents and studio execs looking for the latest poor sap who might be ready for their 15 minutes of fame, the lingering hopelessness that draped over such cramped offices being broken up only by the trilling of the office phone.

Given that, it was almost tiring to recognize that she was able to enjoy the hush that once plagued her, so much so that she had abandoned a party largely dedicated to her in order to observe the unnecessary actions of an obsessed but functional maniac.

Life is weird.

"Another discrepancy," Bruce mumbled while continuing to examine the supporting beam beneath the left-hand side of the stage, his nimble fingers millimeters from the faint scars on the sturdy wood. The vestiges of the fool that had managed to carry the playboy through the last minutes of the upstairs ceremony had now been fully taken over to the point where Cecilia almost found it disturbing to see the world's greatest detective without his ubiquitous cape and cowl. "Nigma was right. These differences are far too closely linked to be considered a coincidence. Whoever's doing this is trying to send a message."

Cissie couldn't help but sympathize. "Can I ask you something?"

"Look at the lettering, Arrowette." The words weren't quite like an order but it might as well have been. "Tell me what you think."

_Oh, you don't want to know what I think right now_, the aggrieved archer couldn't help but fire back in her own mind as she scooted closer. "Well, it does look kind of familiar," she confessed while narrowing her eyes to better examine the combination of English lettering and otherwise unfamiliar characters, her several years of analytical training tempting her into nearly willing the mystery to unlock itself. "Is that Greek?"

"Cretian," Bruce answered while taking quick, sweeping steps towards the pile of broken-down planks of wood that was doubtlessly once a part of the damaged stage above. "The accident in here occurred during the production of a farcical performance of _The Odyssey_, the burn marks on the football field were crafted in the pattern of Greek lettering and the bomb was found in the locker of a boy whose father is a Grecian-born industrial magnate whose constructional outsourcing is responsible for the elimination of thousands of acres of what was once his homeland's largest national forest."

"Oooookay," Cissie mouthed out, the mystery at hand stalling her irritation for another moment more. "So whoever this is may have a mythology thing going on or they're really into Greece or maybe they just have a fetish for feta." What she thought to be a clever bout of wordplay didn't draw the faintest of reactions and that angered her for reasons she couldn't quite get a hold of. "Damn it! Why are you here? I mean, I know I kinda sorta asked you and everything but the least you could have done was say that. . ."

"The test came back as a match," Wayne said dully as he turned to look his partner in the eyes. "Of course, things like this don't have a 100 percent certainty but he's far and away the person you're looking for."

Arrowette's lips separated from one another until they were about a half-inch apart and stayed there as their owner took the news in. Just like that, the ongoing betrayals of her mother seemed inexcusable but somehow less forgivable all at the same time and she was noticed Bruce stepping forward and she was almost petrified by the thought that Bruce was going to hold her.

"But. . . how. . ." she mumbled while supporting her slumping forehead with her right hand. "No! Wait! You could have told me that in Gotham! That. . . that doesn't explain why you're here right now!" Cissie knew she could have picked a better series of responses but it was quite obvious that she had managed to inherit her tactics of avoiding her trauma from her mother. Just forget you heard anything and make your way to the next idea. Nothing to see here. Move along.

"I wish I could have told you sooner, Cecilia," Bruce said earnestly, his large, right hand hovering just over the woman's shoulder blade. "I can understand that you've got a lot of questions to ask and I'm going to help you get in touch with the people who can answer them."

Cecilia looked up at her partner with wet, quavering eyes, the should-have-been college student, celebrity, party animal, nine-to-fiver, or regular girl wondering why she had become nothing of the above. She wasn't sure if she wanted to embrace, scream, or beat the messenger bloody but it seemed as if Batman was ready for anything and that certainty just pissed her off all the more.

_FRAKOOM!_

So perhaps it was a stroke of good luck that Batman and Arrowette soon found themselves set upon by a trio of minotaurs.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay, the story may be late but one of my goals was to create the single most random ending to an issue in the near four-year history of _The Misfits_ and, well, I think I've pulled it off. Of course, I'm always in the mood to discuss dissenting opinions so feel free to chime in if you agree or disagree and also don't be afraid to respond to the new poll up on my author page. While we're at it, let's see if I have another month where this story gets 8,000 hits but only receives 16 reviews.

Seriously. Really guy and gals?

On a brighter note, life on the whole is going fairly well for me. Another year of teaching and learning is wrapping up, the full-time job is going well, my girlfriend now knows about _The Misfits_ and is still willing to date me and I'm getting ready to go on vacation for the first time in eleven months. Hell, maybe I'll even have the time to read some actual comic books. I seem to recall that I used to do that. . .

Or maybe I just worked on next issue previews. Hell, it's hard to remember anything when you get to be my age.

* * *

_Issue #99 Preview_

So we're halfway through _Fathers and Daughters _and we haven't even had a fight yet? Blasphemy! Well, I'm just going to have to make up for last time and let you soak in the violence as Team Batman takes on mythology's greatest hits and Arsenal and Deathstroke tango with Kid Devil and Ravager. Oh, and Puppy and Tweety are finally going to make it to hell and that's obviously going to be a peaceful trip, right? Still, maybe you should come back for a couple weeks and tune in for the next installment of The Misfits: _Strife, Confusion, and Levitating Punchbowls. _Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	99. Strife, Confusion and

Issue #99

Strife, Confusion and Levitating Punchbowls

_Hashmalum's Cleft _

"I spy. . . with my little eye. . . something that begins withhhhhhhh. . . H."

"Hosebeast," Lloyd immediately replied while keeping his eyes in front of him in order to safely pass through the rock-strewn expanses of the otherwise desolate plain. "So quit looking at yourself."

"Fuck you," Stephanie sourly replied while kicking her left foot forward so she could brush aside some of the smaller pebbles around her boots. "And, hey! Let's face facts here! _I _wouldn't have to think up all these ways to entertain myself if _you_ actually took me to somewhere that was a little more interesting!"

Lloyd twisted his neck to the left to cast a penetrating glare at the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns, the half-demon somewhat amused by his sister's way of explaining things. "Tweety, we are right smack in the middle of a haven for the dark forces of the cosmos, a cursed hell that has served as a sanctuary for information seekers trapped within their soulless, damned days and you're telling me you're bored?"

"Well, it just seems a little bit banal," Robin answered while throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender, the lazy reaction drawing an annoyed huff from Lloyd. "I mean, we passed over all those lakes of lava, crossed some rickety bridges made out of the bones of the innocent and my nose is gonna reek of brimstone for days but the whole thing has been like Hell for Dummies." Stephanie shook her head back and forth while stopping to stoop and scoop up a handful of ash, the cursed black cinders threatening to eat through the flesh of her right hand before she swept it aside. "I guess the pervading gloom and impending hopelessness is nice but. . ."

"Well, all those bigtime writers of the ancient days had to get their inspiration from somewhere," Lloyd offered, his own hands clenching into fists as he and Stephanie came within 50 yards of the base of a modestly-sized foothill, its flat precipices shining black and crimson in the wake of the nearby volcanic eruption. "So tell me, little sis. You done enough whingin' to start talkin' about your issues with our boss's shag buddy?"

Stephanie was already chastising herself for allowing a moment of silence, her rare loss for words a clear giveaway that she had been caught off guard.

"Couldn't we have just teleported over there? I mean, what's the point of having all these fancy schmancy powers if we don't use them to get out of a literal hellhole?" She then let out a growl as she came across a hand that loomed in front of her face. It was a silent but stern gesture, not to mention a mandate that she would have usually refused just out of principle, but her history with the source of it was proving to be too much for her to overcome.

"Stephanie," Lloyd mumbled, his British brogue taking on the same coarse compassion that was there the first night they went to the movies together, the first time Stephanie was fairly certain that this was a person she wanted to hold onto. "Talk to me."

The daughter of Agnes Brown took a great deal of pride in the emotional barriers she had managed to cobble together over the years, so much so that it pissed her off to an almighty degree that this oft-smirking limey could push through them so easily. It was something that not even Bruce would be able to pull off on his most bizarrely of compassionate days but Stephanie did her best to chalk up moments of weakness like these to those times in the crowded cinemas that reeked of stale cola and juvenile dreams. After all, that explanation was a great deal more poetic than just her desperately looking for someone to talk to.

"I've read the history behind Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. I've heard all the stories about how much that she's changed. Hell, she was one of the few people that really believed in me back when I was still working with Tim so it's not like I should be so resistant to the whole thing. . ."

"But yet you are. Quite obviously," Lloyd finished with another smarmy smirk that he wouldn't have dared to unleash on Kara or Scandal for fear of losing his meat and two veg. "And we're all still hoping against hope that this isn't just about you trying to get the boss to climb into your bed instead."

Stephanie didn't slug her big brother on the shoulder or fire off a rude gesture like the bold, sweeping avatar of chaos that she likened herself to be. "You know it's not that," she inevitably replied with a thick hint of sadness. "I don't want him to get hurt. And I know people like Selina, I grew up with people like her and she may be a nice person but I can't help but think that she's not the kind of person that will stay around once they start getting bored. And. . . and I don't want that to happen to him again."

Lloyd tilted his head briefly to one side as he considered the frequently perused argument. "Well, the evidence does show that Kyle's got a nice bit of experience when it comes to leavin' Wayne in the lurch," he allowed, the glimmer in Stephanie's pale-blue eyes that rose in response almost hurting the man's heart. "Still, I seem to recall Pennyworth bein' quite vocal about Bruce breaking up with her during their last runaround."

"Stop bringing logic into this. I hate it when you do that," Stephanie broke in, her sardonic smile beginning to slip back onto her heart-shaped face. "Lloyd, you know me. My dad always said that he cared about me, he said all the right things but he was never around to back them up. And Bruce. . . he's always believed that I can do something! Maybe it wasn't what I wanted to do but. . . he's always there and. . . and. . . and now he's with Catwoman and Dick's gone and you're with Kara and you're all happy and I should be happy. . ."

The guardian in Lloyd Thomas all but ordered his body to lurch forward and wrap the trembling woman in his arms, his small hands quickly sifting through Robin's shoulder-length hair. It didn't seem quite right to be shushing another person's fears or whispering words of encouragement in the middle of a ripe slice of hell but he had long grown accustomed to such things when it came to his little sister. When it came to everything.

"Sorry for not payin' ya more attention, you little hog," he said playfully, the half-demon knowing that he could have provided more but also recognizing that such words were not his to give. "Guess it's still a little hard for me to get used to something that won't leave me no matter what I do."

Robin first responded with a faint sniffle (if only to have the opportunity to wipe her nose on Lloyd's shirt). "Hey, don't think too highly of yourself, Puppy," she answered while pulling back again, her voice only just a little bit wobbly. "It's me and Brucie that have the issues. Plus I've got Cesar to keep me company now."

"Ah, yes. Your little piece from the wrong side of the tracks," Lloyd mockingly replied while starting to ascend up the rocks. "Been takin' right good care of you an' all, has he?"

"I'm not about to complain," Stephanie said back, the sight of The Black Dog climbing the bluff with his own two hands battening down the urge to create her energy claws and encouraging her to follow The Black Dog's lead. "Quite frankly, I'm just glad I'm not in the same boat as poor Kara. I mean, the girl's always going on about how she can never find a guy who will listen to her or treat her like she likes to be treated or keep up with her in the bedroom. . . WAAAGH! Hey, asshole!"

Lloyd offered nothing in the midst of the shower of dirt and pebbles that his right foot somehow managed to dislodge from the rock face during what was otherwise a flawless climb, the error drawing laughter from Stephanie as she continued on unimpeded. The ascent continued on for several minutes in a similar, carefree fashion as the two unlikely hikers traded insults and simple talk as if they weren't even close to deceit or reticence or bruised egos and hearts. And, as they reached the hill's peak, Steph made certain to jostle herself into Lloyd as her friend looked on at the scene awaiting her, the unnecessary distraction earning her a cuff to the back of the head that produced a _thwap _that somehow managed to hang with the roar of the faraway volcano.

"Guh. Are we there yet?" Robin asked as she joined Lloyd on the final foothold either of them would need on their climb. "'Cause as much as I like to pretend I'm doing a Marines commercial I just think that. . . ooooooh."

As one may have guessed, our young heroine's melodramatic response was brought upon by something a bit more extraordinary then the circular stone pedestal that silently greeted her, the plinth surrounded by a group of carvings consisting of sigils that even her ring had a hard time translating. A request for an explanation was on the tip of her tongue but ended up being swallowed as the center of the altar became awash with flame, the heat somehow managing to work through her defenses and sting at her skin as she joined Lloyd in fully reaching the summit. The small, concentrated conflagration continued to climb higher and Stephanie was briefly tempted to take to the skies to see where the apex of the inferno would take her but the emergence of a figure within the flames kept her still. Standing just over nine feet tall, the creature's pale skin could have potentially presented the image of a human but the unnatural churning of its blood-red eyes indicated anything but. Stephanie shifted her sights to Lloyd, a silent request devoted to how she should respond but the lack of shock or alarm prompted her to remain awestruck and still as the towering flames slowly lowered, the blistering heat literally wrapping around the creature. The steam from her sweat finally began to drift upward as the blaze solidified, the flames shifting into a cloak that wrapped around the demon's narrow but muscular frame.

"I expected your arrival sooner, Shell of The Condemner," the demon said softly, his steps slow but measured as he gracefully stepped away from the dais. "But you do bring exalted company. Nothing less than Earth's emerald light."

"I'm exalted?" Stephanie couldn't help but spit out, the mild annoyance from having to crane her neck up to look at what she was supposed to be seeing perhaps getting the better of her. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The demon's calm countenance was briefly tainted by a flicker of what might have been pain but ended up being an annoyed glare that started at his inquisitor before traveling towards Lloyd.

"_Don't ask 'im any questions, Tweety," _Lloyd cautioned through his and Stephanie's telepathic link. _"Rubicante has got quite an issue with 'em."_

"Well, then how the hell are we supposed to get any information out of Fryguy here then?" Stephanie yelled back. "I mean, isn't this guy supposed to be your big deal informant from hell?"

"Sorry about her, Rubicante," Lloyd broke in, the half-demon easily weathering the greater demon's anger. "I mean, you get involved with a force like that an' it's hard to say no."

Rubicante spared Robin a brief, exploratory stare before retaining his calm visage, the edge of his cloak unfurling with a stretch of his right arm. "So I have seen," he finally replied. "I trust you have had enough of an opportunity to examine Neron's recent activities?"

"Enough time to recognize that the bastard's optin' to play for keeps rather than watch from the fringes," Lloyd answered while joining his host on the edge of the cliff. "He somehow got his hands on The Bane of Velius without a lot of people knowing about it and he's already dug up enough of a grip on the worlds above to really make his presence felt."

Rubicante's nod was easy to see but the intent of it remained indiscernible. "Neron's successful contract with Edward Bloomberg involved a provision that could only be kept by someone who has maintained its innocence in the face of temptation, a condition that no human or demon could possibly maintain. The corruption of that innocence, in addition to a variety of disturbances from the realms of the dead, has enabled Neron to obtain power, authority, and. . . artifacts that he could not obtain otherwise. As of now, it is quite impossible to determine whether he has the power to usurp the order of the nether realms once Bloomberg's 21st birthday comes to pass but the likelihood of his success will be far too much of an encouragement to resist."

"And that power's how he got Sabbac out of the boneyard. . . and broke out whoever this Zalbarda guy is," Stephanie threw in, her deceptively sharp mind allowing her to connect the dots as she looked down at the plain below. "But. . . but what about this whole thing about disturbances? What is that supposed to mean?"

Perturbed by the silence, Robin looked up to see the annoyed glares on the faces of Lloyd and Rubicante and the unspoken reminder caused Stephanie to gnash her teeth.

"OH, COME ON! I hate this game!"

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Auditorium – 12:14 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

The same stage that protected Bruce and Cecilia from the opening salvo provided by the trio of mythological beasts was nearly the same haven that doomed them as the force of the creatures' mighty blows soon collapsed the firm supports and sent the decades-old playhouse toppling down. Managing to leap free from the destruction before any of the heavy planks could find purchase on their fragile skulls, the two vigilantes employed their smaller size to weave through the traffic as the much of the debris was left to topple down on the beasts that created it, the strong hides of the half-men, half-bull monstrosities keeping them from incurring any serious harm. They then dashed down the center aisle that separated one side of the theater from the other, the both of them looking to create as much distance and breathing room from their predators in order to see how they could best change their anticipated role for the afternoon. Still, much as their instincts had told them to expect, it wasn't long at all before the minotaurs started up the chase as two of them chose to leap over and onto the rows of posh folding chairs while the third raged down the aisle, its long, dangerously sharp horns extending almost two feet from its smashed in face.

"Okay, please tell me you didn't see this one coming," Cecilia almost pleaded while baiting the monster on her right to leap straight at her. Once seeing her bestial opponent had committed to the forward lunge, she wisely rolled to her left in order to buy enough time to remove the sais that she had strapped to her leggings. "'Cause I would like to keep on thinking that our lives are just a long series of bouts with insanitEEEEEEE!"

Bruce didn't spare a moment for his partner's astonished squeal, the noisy consequence of the young woman's choice to leap onto the back of the bullish beast that had come at them straight on as if she were looking to hogtie one of Geryon's sheep. Bringing to bear the long, narrow plank he had brought with him when escaping from the wreckage, the man behind The Batman expertly avoided the opening lunge of the remaining available minotaur before countering with a well-executed lash to the left side of the creature's neck. Black blood splattered onto Bruce's shoulder as the jagged wood sliced into the beast's massive muscles and sinew and producing a pleasant-sounding _thwack _as the central part slammed into his opponent's chin with enough force to bring the creature down for the moment. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite so fortunate with the opponent that his partner had left behind and his makeshift weapon was just barely enough to avoid being killed as the massive left foot of the third minotaur crashed through his staff and forced him to fall awkwardly on the chairs behind him. However, the grunt that was forced from his lungs paled in comparison to the bloodthirsty wail that bellowed out from Cecilia's unfortunate choice of transportation as the fair-haired weapons expert plunged her sais through the other minotaur's neck, the spouts of blood from the creature's neck and the speed and sloppiness of its descent making it rather obvious that Arrowette had managed to use her sais to pierce her opponent's carotid arteries.

"Just to let you know, I never had to worry about these kinds of situations when I was working with Drake or Nightwing," the suddenly grouchy detective loudly declared while vaulting over the row of seats to his left to avoid the ungainly charge of the one minotaur left standing.

"Yeah, and we both know there wasn't any lasting damage in those two relationships," Cecilia fired back while dashing towards the fray, Twirling the sai in her right hand so that she grasped the handle rather than the flat union of the tri-bladed weapon, she tossed the weapon straight at the target at a pace that she still wasn't quite satisfied with (to say nothing of what her boss would have thought of her efforts). Still, the projectile did manage to reach its target as Bruce grabbed the weapon by its hilt and brought it to bear with the grace of a master. She made certain to disregard how Batman responded to the minotaur's sweeping left hook, the potential distraction possibly enough to keep her from her own job as she leapt onto the top of one of the chairs that stood just to the right of the aisle, her steady feet allowing her only just enough time to establish her balance before she began to run from chair-to-chair-to-chair. The beast was already sporting a nasty stab wound to the right side of its abdomen when Cecilia was finally ready to make her move, a double-footed leap allowing her to gain just enough elevation to clamber onto the minotaur's neck and, with one quick, precise stab aimed right between the eyes, the guest of honor brought the violent battle to a swift end.

Cecilia had no trouble pushing her body through a leaping forward somersault that spirited her away from the dying beast but the tremors resonating from several floors above caused her right foot to fall slightly before her left and that forced her into a stumble as her face paled. A quick, silent exchange of information between her and Bruce confirmed that they shared the same suspicion: that the supernatural mayhem was most likely not limited to the supporting actors in their recent performance.

"We can't let you be caught fighting these guys as Bruce Wayne," the archer without her bow quickly declared, her firm decisiveness nearly startling the aforementioned detective. "So how about I hold off whatever the hell is going on up there while C.C. goes to get us some help and you try to get all the bystanders out and looking really stupid and spoiled while you're doing it?"

Now it was Cissie's turn to be shocked as Bruce replied with something that was a bit more than a half-grin but just slightly less than an outright smile. Though she would easily confess that she wasn't the master of deductive reasoning that Batman was, she did find herself capable of finding deference when it was shown to her (even when said expression came from the often flat countenance of her teacher). Oddly energized by the unexpected reaction, she almost casually caught the sai being thrown back at her before she sprinted towards the front theater doors, the once intolerable silk garment wrapped around her somehow becoming just a little bit less of a burden.

"Hold on, Arrowette," Wayne shouted back, the employment of Cecilia's code name urging the young woman to skid to a fairly sudden halt. "This mystery may be mostly solved but that won't stop whatever's left unclear to try and grab a hold of us. The likelihood that this catastrophe is just the result of a random occurrences is very slim."

The kindly, verbose warning was appreciated but hardly enough to keep Cecilia from letting out a haughty snort.

"Boss? When was the last time that we did anything random?"

* * *

_12:11 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Cissie found herself drinking in the familiar cocktail of growls, screaming and the destruction of preposterously expensive glassware before she swung her right foot forward to force open the oaken double doors that separated the rear entrance of the convocation hall from the cavernous hallway she had spent the last 10 seconds traversing at an impressive clip. Of course, the harsh _craaack _of a bullwhip was a smidge of a surprise and the dominating sight of a nine-foot-tall Cyclops roaring amidst the smashed hosting tables and fallen serving plates added enough of a sense of novelty to inspire the fair-haired heroine to action. Ignoring the slight whining from her legs that resulted from the request to be tested once again, she steadily brought her arms to her sides, the sharp, blood-dappled sais trapped between her fists seemingly joining her on a mission to search for a place to strike. As it turns out, she only needed a moment of observation devoted to examining the hulking, elephantine beast before letting the weapon in her left hand fly, the weapon's center blade catching a hint of the afternoon sun before finding purchase in the bullseye that had become the beast's black iris. The mythological beast let out an anguished cry in response to the blood-spewing wound, the pain and permanent blindness obviously interrupting its attempts to smash the fallen Selina Kyle into grit with its tree-trunk sized arms.

"Nice shot, kiddo," Selina readily confessed while lurching her body through a natty kip-up, the sharply dressed socialite not looking the least bit refined or willing to be subdued as she cast back the black, tanned-leather bullwhip that had become as much of Catwoman's trademark as the flirtatious asides and the skintight battle gear. The tip of the long cord was traveling at nearly 800 miles-an-hour as it began to wind its way around the creature's right leg, the speed of the cracker enough to dig through even the creature's tough skin as the thinnest quarter of the whip made two full ties around the creature's brawny right ankle. The hunger in Catwoman's smile was palpable as she coupled her own strength with the creature's stumbling to send the blinded beast down face first, the giant's weight more than enough to force Cissie's weapon further in and pierce the brain.

"Been a long time since I've had that much fun with a dance that didn't end up in the bedroom," Selina purred while drawing her weapon back. Her jade-green eyes were flashing even as they instinctually found their way to a seemingly confused gentlemen that appeared to be frozen in fear at the front entrance, his stillness ironically enough to keep open the passageway that would allow the few remaining civilians to escape in the quickest way possible. "Of course, that's not to say that this won't end much the same."

Bruce, despite the distraction of the waning bits of the panic around him, had just enough time amidst the confusion to deliver a familiar smirk. It was nearly enough to bring a toothy grin to Cissie's face and draw another purr from Selina's lips but Nigma's frantic steps soon brought the little moment to an abrupt end.

"Wayne! You have to listen to me!" The Riddler exclaimed, his pale forehead wreathed with a clammy kind of sweat that could only come from someone that could only barely maintain his senses. "I've figured out who is responsible for this!"

Batman raised his eyes at this, a response that would serve as the first of a long series of events that unfolded in a decidedly sudden fashion. The second matter to come along was that Nigma quickly became silent, an odd circumstance in any instance but an event made that much more confusing by the additional fact that The Riddler's lips continued to move. It was as if someone had just pressed the mute button on a remote control that Batman would have loved to come in the possession of a long time ago but any quick satisfaction that could have been gleaned from the moment was cut short by the appearance of two more somewhat familiar figures that appeared at the side of the now fallen Cyclops. The one that sprung from the sigil to the left of the corpse was a monster with twelve tentacle-like legs that were tipped by a razor-sharp cat-of-nine tails that looked eager to dig into any flesh it could find along with six grisly-looking heads, each of which contained three wickedly sharp rows of teeth. The sigil on the right, on the other hand, produced a monstrosity that didn't appear to even rise from the ground, the monstrosity seemingly nothing more than a formless mass that began to draw in anything that could be brought in by its gravitational pull.

"What in the name of God," Bruce mumbled as he anxiously watched Cecilia and Selina spring away from the threat of being drawn into the clutches of the monsters. His eyes remained wide as he then took in the wonder of Nigma frantically tapping him on the shoulder. Turning to meet his longtime rival with an incredulous glare, he had a moment to see Nigma clutching a pad and paper in his quivering right hand but any attempt to show what he had written with it was cut short as a glass punchbowl crashed into The Riddler's back, the snappily-dressed private investigator stumbling to the ground from an impact with a noiseless squeal. Of course, he hardly needed to take a glance at the notebook to realize what was written there as he turned to meet the source of the chaos, a woman who seemed to be practically molded into a gold-and-green gown that would have made the witch look impossibly enticing if not for the wicked glint in her mischievous eyes.

* * *

_The Haven – 11:48 Pacific Standard Time_

"Intercept her."

Roy took in Slade's words with the handful of seconds he had remaining and decided that he could use a stiff drink.

"Say what now?"

"Stop her!" Slade snapped back before he leapt forward, his almost impossibly graceful bound carrying him over his daughter's double-bladed lunge with ease as he moved to intercept Kid Devil before the demon could make his way to the ground. This, inevitably, led to Ravager forcing herself into a forward roll that sent her lithe frame past Arsenal by nearly a half-meter before she could tumble back onto her feet. The time that Rose needed to accomplish this particular feat gave Arsenal just enough of an opportunity to take in the cheers resonating from around the factory while simultaneously soaking in his own irritation as he slid in front of the iron-haired Teen Titan to stop the resolute swordswoman in her tracks. The red-headed sharpshooter then soon discovered that he only needed to take a quick peek at Rose's clenched jaw to decide that he was going to go to great measures to properly thank one Slade Wilson for plunging him headlong into this utter storm of shit.

Rose started off with a pair of spinning lashes that only missed cutting into Roy by inches, the dual short swords expertly wielded by "The Terminator's" youngest child seemingly eager to draw his defiant blood. A series of sways and backwards lurches continued to keep him from any real damage outside of a hairline scratch along the cheek but the follow-up roundhouse kick hurt like a bitch as Ravager's right heel crashed into his sternum and forced him to the floor with an ungainly roll whose very awkwardness seemed to draw an ego-soaked smirk from the confident countenance of his unexpected adversary.

"Just stay down, cowboy," Ravager warned through gritted teeth, the pet name she had for Roy since the days she had sometimes looked after Lian bringing a frown to Arsenal's normally upturned lips. "I didn't want any trouble but now I've got it and the only way that you can avoid it is if you _stay down_."

That was more than what was necessary to bring back the casual smirk. "Sorry, cowgirl," Roy said almost cheerily. "We've gotta bring back your little boytoy and that's not going to happen if you keep dragging Eddie across the California coastline."

Rose gripped the hilts of her swords so tightly that the leather binding let out a quiet creak. "He didn't know what he was getting into!" she nearly screeched, her muscles tensing with anticipation as Roy slowly rose back to his feet. "And just because that bastard Blue Devil proves himself to be an asshole we've got Tim and Vic trying to ship him off to fucking hell instead of doing something about it! It's not fair!"

Arsenal barely had a second back on his feet before Rose was swinging away, her strikes blunted by rage and whatever the hell passed for affection in the occasionally muddled mind of the raging heroine. A series of quick blocks with his gauntlets prevented him from accruing any further damages but it didn't get him any closer to what he needed to be doing to bring the fight to an even keel when a Shotokan-style sweep kick carried him off of his balance once again.

"_Stay down_," Ravager growled once again, the words coming out so deep and throaty that it almost looked like it hurt to say them. "You don't have what it takes to stop me and I'm tired of just going with the lovetaps."

"Is that right now?" Roy retorted while spreading his long, powerful legs outward. He swung the limbs in a loose circle and followed that momentum to return to his feet. The act of using just his legs to retain his balance also allowed him to use his left hand to bring his spare revolver to bear so it would join with its cousin grasped in the opposite hand.

_PAFT!PAFT!PAFT!PAFT!_

Four tranquilizer darts, two from each of Roy's pistols, were soon winging their way towards Rose, each of them aimed for different parts of the body. The precise targeting was impressive but The Ravager's reaction was even more so, her muscles easily flowing through the commands sent by her precognitive senses and allowing her to deflect each of the shots with her blades. Undeterred by the superhuman response, Arsenal followed up his impressive display by rolling to his left, his right hand scooping up a handful of metal bits as he passed them by. The little sharp bits of copper and steel had caught his eye only seconds before he recognized that he was about to be in a fight but he was still able to know what he would do with them even as he let each of them fly in a spray of shrapnel. Just as he suspected, Rose's instincts had convinced her that the roofing screws were harmless but that didn't stop the fragments from scratching through a sound portion of Rose's cheeks.

"What the. . . What?"

Roy's revolvers were the next to go, the weapons expert launching one of the half-loaded pistols at Rose's head and the other at her gut. Rose managed to avoid them both, just as he suspected, but the effort to do so just made it that much easier for him to rush forward and deliver a Savate-style thrust kick to the woman's chin. Not the center of that dimpled jaw, of course, since that would have put his opponent at a place he didn't need her but the blunted impact was enough to turn Rose just a bit to her left and leave her right arm wide open for a little bit of thievery. One wrist lock that forced the fingers open and a sideways roll later and the father of Lian Harper had added one of Rose's prize possessions to his own impressive armory, the success of his work tempting Arsenal into twirling the blade in a showman-like manner that also allowed him to present to his foe that he knew how to properly handle his ill-gotten reward.

Rose's oft-present anger was now clouded by confusion. "How the hell are you. . ."

An above-the-shoulder thrust came an inch from digging into Ravager's left ear before she realized that the next round had begun. Her bountiful amounts of pride and skill once again merged together as she quickly moved to keep pace until the battle was little more than a whirlwind of silver metal. The only interruptions in the deadly maelstrom were the dozens of crashes of metal-against-metal, the spectacle bringing the crowd into a near fervor as the two evenly-matched fighters provided them with one hell of a show. Rose cursed herself for momentarily doing nothing but reacting, if only for a second, and that distraction finally convinced her to break away from the affair with a series of backward somersaults as the scrap became too fast for her liking.

"All right," Roy finally replied through his panting, his heavy breaths matching Rose's. "I've got to ask. Exactly what part of 'extreme proficiency with a wide variety of weapons' do people just not understand?"

Roy liked to believe that Rose would have fired back with a smile, maybe respond with something along the lines of how she would reply when Lian would say something profane or otherwise disrespectful the moment he stepped through the door. However, the fact of the matter was that those times were gone and Slade had managed to throw Bloomberg to the ground in a way that would allow Deathstroke to stand above the boy's fallen form, the blade in his left hand quite prepared to tear through Kid Devil's heart.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 12:23 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

"Alllll right. So what in the blue fuck are these things supposed to be?" Arrowette yelled to anyone willing to listen, her attempts to search for a specific audience stymied by her efforts to also avoid being torn to ribbons by the many limbs darting forward in an attempt to grab a hold of her. Her eyes were frantically searching for tables, chairs and staircases, anything that could possibly get in the way of the beast's charge while wisely staying away from any possibility of being drawn into the swirling clutches of its nonmoving comrade. "I mean, this is becoming like _Clash of The Titans _without all the inane attempts at a plot."

Bruce was almost tempted to tell his occupied partner that she had gotten her stories mixed up but his mind was too busy racing through the possibilities available to him. There wasn't much he could do to interfere with the rampage of Scylla and Charybdis as the mythological beasts continued to make their presences felt in one of America's most esteemed college preparatory academies. Add that with the recognition of who had brought them here and he was ultimately coerced into simply keeping his eyes locked on the culprit and the beguiling smile on the woman's borrowed face.

"Circe."

The smirk stayed on the woman's face as her glamour was willingly brought to an end and the swirl of eldritch energy soon revealed a statuesque woman with indigo hair that hung past her bare, creamy shoulders until resting at the center of her back. There was an unmistakable but still refined amusement dancing through the enchantress's blood-red eyes, the reaction learned and nurtured through lifetimes of deceit and manipulation. A fetching agent of chaos so much the antithesis of the Amazonian princess that had captured Wayne's interests more than he cared to admit, the man behind The Batman could not help but feel challenged by that cold, alluring smirk that Circe directed upon him.

"Come now, Mister Wayne. It's not as if you're that astonished," Circe replied while calmly raising a hand to order her bestial servants into a momentary halt. "After all, there must be something that dear Diana still sees in you after all this time and it is most certainly not a charming personality."

Bruce delivered a cold glare in response, if only so Wonder Woman's longtime nemesis could recognize his intent. "The minotaurs were an obvious giveaway," he confessed, the detective alluding to the witch's barely-known family ties with the legendary beast. "Not to mention the manipulations of the demonic realm possess a great deal more subtlety than your new master could ever bring to the table."

There was just a moment when the shifter of matter and reality looked down upon the petty, mortal challenger with anger but she easily managed to push it away with a simple, casual wave of her fingertips. "Oh please, my fair Odysseus. You have taken upon enough wisdom to realize that I would never truly serve a master save myself. Just as you have aligned yourself with gods to broaden your sphere of influence, I have chosen to ally myself with a fellow usurper to achieve something that I have been deprived of for far, far too long."

"Then why the juvenile mysteries, Circe?" Wayne growled back, his own irritation threatening to bubble to the surface now that the need to hide his true self was no longer needed. "Why set up a ruse that would drag someone like Nigma into this?"

Circe was all too happy to provide a smirk in response, the witch having more than enough experience with twisting the hearts and minds of mortal men to recognize that she had gained a foothold and pressed upon it with the cunning of a skilled huntress. "Well, you'll pardon me for showing some whit of intelligence but I don't think I'll be answering that. Perhaps you can ask the unconscious buffoon at your feet if you somehow manage to come out of this in one piece."

Batman spared a moment to look back at the still unconscious Riddler as the conductor of the chaos pointed a long, well manicured finger at the spot directly between his eyes.

"You're the true bounty that I seek today, Batman." Circe continued on without sparing so much as a glance to the two seething ladies at her back. "Think of it as a dinner party, something I'm sure a spoiled socialite can appreciate." The alluring smile that fluttered onto the witch's face clearly displayed she was amused by her words if no one else. "And Neron and I both agree that presenting your colleagues with your broken, soulless corpse would cloud their hearts and minds and leave them quite weakened for the time of troubles that we are going to be more than happy to bring to the table." The mere pondering of her intentions was enough to bring that charming smile back to her face. "And, after all, what better way to attract the palate of The Batman than by drawing in the children he holds dear?"

The tip of the sai that Circe was provided in response was only inches away from the small of her back before the witch casually flicked her right wrist. Her mastery over matter quickly played its familiar tune as the Okinawan-based truncheon was instantly transformed into a flawless dove that rose to perch upon her shoulder. "Sorry for the ostentatious dramatics but, we're both entertainers at heart, aren't we, Mister Wayne? As such, I don't believe that there's any need to delay the main event any further." Another flick of the wrist seemed to breathe life back in Scylla and Charybdis as the beasts moved to their murderous ways once again, the former instantly making a beeline for the fair-haired archer while the latter continued to draw more and more into its swirling vortex. The event was violent and sudden, its outcome ridiculously doubtless but that still wasn't enough to keep Circe from looking perturbed upon discovering that Wayne was countering her good nature with a smirk of his own.

"I couldn't agree more."

The mythological trend continued as the convocation hall then appeared to be in the grip of another divine being. The first impact was a concussive _boom _as Scylla was sent skittering through a collection of carefully arranged tables, the maelstrom of shattered wood and clattering metal folding chairs raising a racket that was enough to prompt Selina to let out some colorful profanity as the former catburglar struggled to understand what was going on. Next came a nearly unfathomable burst of kinetic energy in the form of a whirlwind that provided enough internalize pressure to temporarily reverse the frightening currents of Charybdis until the beast was on the cusp of devouring itself if it was not able to maintain control of its frightening abilities at the last possible moment. Then, just to cement its role even further, the blur of crimson took a nanosecond to sneak away one of the levitating punchbowls that littered the air before dumping the contents on Circe's head, a round of playful laughter then moving to serve as a potent contrast to the witch's growl.

"Hey, Witchie Poo," said The Flash while finally skidding to a stop, the speedster's lanky arms crossed across his chest as he casually stood at Bruce's side. "Long time, no see."

Circe was wise not to give The Fastest Man Alive a hint of satisfaction, the enchantress not moving an inch as she managed to cleanse her flawless gown and form from any bit of tawdry, fruit-born swill.

"Not long enough," she couldn't help but confess with a stormy look in her eyes. Her anger quickly gave birth to power as she summoned more demonic and mythological entities to the field of battle, each of them telepathically ordered to rend Wayne and his comrades limb-from-limb by any means necessary while only making certain to save the trickster for her.

West casually shrugged his shoulders in response to the bald hatred, his near 17 years of working alongside Bruce Wayne, Diana Prince, and many, many moody others allowing him to ride the stressful currents with ease. "Sorry about being late, one and all," he then asked for forgiveness with a smile that was eerily and purposefully similar to Circe's formerly confident smirk. "I just needed a moment to gather up the next surprise of the day."

The growls, howls, and calls for blood by the surrounding throng were momentarily challenged by a sonic boom that was powerful enough to shatter the surrounding windows and force the handful of humans to cover their eyes and ears. The havoc affected nearly everyone in the room but there was truly only a single, true target for all the mayhem and Circe was given the opportunity to recognize just who that was as she was flung into Scylla's unconscious mass by the force of two small but powerful fists crashing into her back. Recovering herself quickly, the indigo-haired enchantress narrowed her eyes at the falsely imperious little trollop levitating above her, the girl's mere presence almost as much as of a source of irritation as the insufferable, crimson-garbed clown.

Cassandra Sandsmark, in return, flashed back a wicked smile of her own.

"You know, after all the crap I've been through, I think I could do with a good party," noted the teenage superhero known as Wonder Girl, the deep, blue eyes she had inherited from her father Ares shimmering in anticipation.

"Just make sure you don't hog all the fun," Victor Stone added with a bit of cocky confidence of his own, the sonic cannon implanted in Cyborg's left arm already charged to fire again. At his back were Garfield Logan, Raven Roth, Virgil Hawkins, and Timothy Drake, heroes that had rightfully earned their share of respect and admiration not just from the world they had sworn to protect but also from the champions whose roles and burdens they would one day inherit.

And Victor was more than happy to lead them on their way.

"All right, people. TITANS TOGETHER!"

* * *

_Hashmalum's Cleft_

"All right, so what we've got on our hands is a situation that happened right under everybody else's noses and we didn't even have the chance to know about it until it was too late to do anything about how it all got started in the first place yet somehow we're being targeted to fix it." Lloyd summarized, his calm, rational tone quite fitting for the almost casual stroll that he, Rubicante, and Robin had chosen to employ while scaling down the other side of the expansive peak.

"In other words, what else is fuckin' new?" Stephanie added in a tone that wasn't quite so serene before adding, "And I was asking that question aloud to myself, thank you very much."

"Well, regardless of that depressing little happenstance," Lloyd quickly butted back in, the enigmatic silence from the greater demon and seer to his left reminding him that it was still his turn at the wheel. "Neron fashioned this deal with Bloomberg so whatever supernatural energy he could glean from the breaking of a soul oath would go directly to him and that, on top of a whole lot of other things that we haven't figured out yet, allowed the bastard to get a hold of The Bane of Velius along with a foothold to a lot more."

"Neron was wise in striking a deal with a soul as desperate as Edward Bloomberg," Rubicante reminded his audience, the pale-skinned demon bringing his sinuous arms down to his sides as his hellfire cloak wrapped around that and the rest of him. "He made certain that the bargain would be broken on maintaining complete and absolute trust, a concept that is both too solid and nebulous for even the best of you to maintain. Now that the condition is broken and Bloomberg still in possession of the power given to him by Neron, the fruits of the hell lord's bargain now harvest themselves in your plane of reality as well as this. He now had the power to overthrow the rightful holder of The Bane of Velius and, with that power, he can affect the ebbs and flow of the supernatural within both realities.

"Which explains why Lloyd and this Blood guy's powers went all kerflooey. . . and how Sabbac was able to bust through the wards at the monastery," Stephanie concluded, her shorter legs forcing her to stroll just a little bit faster than her male counterparts in order to keep place. Still, the added effort wasn't enough to keep her from wrapping the fingers of her right hand around her dimpled chin as she chose to dig a little deeper. "But wait a minute! If Neron can affect the supernatural like this. . . then how come I wasn't affected? I mean, this ring is just a whole bunch of magic in a kitschy, poorly designed package. If Neron really wanted to take me out then they shouldn't have even needed that nasty-ass blade."

Rubicante's long, measured steps instantly came to a halt, his hairless brow raised as the demon found himself forced to once again assess the guest chosen by The Condemner's shell. "It is true that Oa's power is rooted in the eldritch tides of your reality and, thusly, would be a factor that would easily fall under Neron's control. Unfortunately for our common enemy, and perhaps fortunately for the rest of us, Neron has come to recognize that your power is unique and requires his specific attention and would you care to guess why?"

Stephanie pretended to think it over. "Because I'm the only Green Lantern out there that doesn't have massive pecs, breasts that are larger than a D-cup or at least three tentacles?"

"Because you possess a kind of purity that Neron desperately wishes to have for himself," Rubicante replied, the greater demon's wording causing Lloyd to let out an unrestrained snort of laughter that prompted Stephanie to cuff him on the back of the head. "Just as you returned from the grave through your refusal to allow death to claim you, your power is summoned from a will that cannot be broken or compromised. Your resolve, as powerful and as maddening to yourself and to others as it may be, is what drives you, day in and day out, just as Neron's ambition for power and control has fueled his threadbare soul for countless millennia."

"Huh," Stephanie observed, the talkative champion simply refusing to stay silent despite not having anything to say. "I'm cool," she then added in an involuntarily squeakish tone that didn't sound the least bit as all-conquering or otherwise cool as she suddenly thought herself to be. "Okay, so was the power Neron got from the bargain enough to get him The Bane of Velius and was that what helped him break Zalbarda out of his prison? And for bringing back Sabbac from the dead. . . DAMN IT! I WAS DOING SO GOOD!" she finally shouted as she took in the seer's expectant gaze, the silent gesture informing her that she had broken the rules of the game once again.

"Too right, little sis," Lloyd gruffly broken in while ruffling Stephanie's hair. "All right, so we've managed to suss out the majority of the answers we're looking for. Now it's a pretty bloody safe guess that your mentioning of all these unknown twists and turns that helped Neron come to power means that we had at least a little bit to do with it." Now it was the Brit's turn to look pensive as he shifted his gaze to the faraway tarns of magma and the gargantuan volcano far off in the distance that had spewn that molten rock from its maw. "So we're back to the principle of mystic thaumogenesis but the bloody problem there is that there's so many useful things that we could have done that could be the cause of this ball of supernatural shit! There's our summoning of The Spectre in Gotham, us killing Parallax, the release of The Anti-Matter Equation. There's no bloody good way to tell which route to start searching on this!"

"Which would mean, according to the philosophies of an endless supply of humans with far too much time on their hands, that the finite amount of time available to you would be better spent dwelling upon other things." Rubicante's advice had a trace of admonishment that could have lent it to becoming mocking but the trickle of warmth that came with it brought it back to neutral. "For example, I cannot help but notice that you have refused to ask the question that truly hangs on your mind, Lloyd. Perhaps the burden of my unbridled truth would bring your suspicions to another unwanted place?"

"Unbridled truth?" asked Stephanie. "And I was asking Lloyd," she hastily added before the burning gaze could be directed at her once again. "And how the hell come can he ask questions and we can't?"

"He can't lie," Lloyd replied, his eyes locked on the seemingly bottomless scarlet embers that seemed to masquerade as the eyes of the immortal oracle. "All right, then," he finally said, a thick bulge of his Adam's apple a clear sign of his hesitation. "Za'haf-al'nesh wants to be free of my control."

Rubicante was kind enough to wait a moment before responding.

"The Condemner would like nothing more than to be free of you."

"Woah! Woah! Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah!" Stephanie quickly butted in, the fair-haired Gothamite making no efforts to restrain herself as she slid between her big brother and the greater demon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Isn't this Zack Efron critter supposed to be a good guy? Why does he want to hurt Lloyd?"

"Miss Brown," Rubicante warned, his unmistakable rage already beginning to rankle.

"Oh, and what's your favorite color? What's your favorite food?" Stephanie continued on, the demon's irritation only infuriating her further. "Who you got in the NBA Finals this year and how many fingers am I holding up?" The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns made things simple for the seer by raising just two. "Now I'm sorry if I'm not following your silly-ass rules but you just said that my big brother is in danger for something he's not even responsible for and I guess all my pure, wonderful willpower just doesn't want to see that happen!" A thick sheen of emerald energy surrounded Stephanie's body as her face came inches away from Rubicante's. "So do you think it would be a good idea if you just answered my damn question without being so motherfucking cryptic?"

Rubicante turned to meet Lloyd's expectant gaze once again, his cloak of unending flames billowing briefly before coming back to rest around his feet. "Your little friend is fond of hearing her own voice, Shell of The Condemner."

"Yes," Lloyd said evenly, the half-demon holding his share of the gaze even as he felt the need to run far, far away. "So much so that she can occasionally be right."

Rubicante tilted his head to one side, the demon clearly finding value in the anger and fear around him as the next part of the tale began to unravel at the backs of his audience. "Perhaps you're right," he admitted as Lloyd and Stephanie turned to face what the demon had already sensed, the familiar sigils etching themselves along the base of the mountain. "Think hard of what you wish to unravel and perhaps I will aid you in your pursuits," he continued on as a pair of figures emerged from Neron's portals, the both of them twisted by the death and gloom that Lloyd and Stephanie had been working to stave away since entering the nether dimensions in search for the truth. They were both familiar to Lloyd and Stephanie but while one was a long-forgotten enemy the other was a friend whose unexpected presence brought some long, lingering memories to a painful forefront.

Arthur Light and J'onn J'onnz.

"Presuming, of course, that you survive the wrath of Neron's latest recruits."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You have reached the author's note page of Matt Roberts A.K.A. Matt the Batman Fan. I am not in my mind at the moment thanks to a week's long vacation and an inevitable return to a 50-plus hour work week so if you would leave your name, feedback, and your thoughts on the survey on my author profile then I will get back to you as soon as I can.

_Beep!_

* * *

_Issue #100 Preview_

Well, it's been nearly four years in the making and everyone is prepared for an blockbuster tableau that has been building since the time I was so angry about DC Comics killing off Stephanie Brown after three issues of being Robin, having Judd Winick turn Batman into a batass and Supergirl being rendered into a useless fop with a dishrag skirt and a gigantic tramp stamp on her back. Well, DC may have brought back Steph, killed and brought back Bruce and. . . still made Kara a useless fop with a dishrag skirt (though, thankfully, the tattoo has been retconned) but that doesn't mean that this ride still isn't going to deliver. . . probably the same reticent, melodramatic action and drama as you saw in the first 99 chapters.

Still, we got Lloyd taking on The Martian Manhunter, Stephanie taking on Doctor Light, Wally taking on Circe, Roy trying his best to keep Eddie Bloomberg alive and Cissie still trying to get some honest answers from life even as a whole bunch of mystical badasses try to take hers. Check out the conclusions in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Long Awaited Ruin. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	100. Long Awaited Catastrophe

Issue #100

Long Awaited Catastrophe

_November 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 12:26 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Cecilia had never been quite so happy to find something she could stab as her feet slammed against the wood-strewn floor, the graceful landing the first step towards her sprint towards the open stern of a fire-breathing chimera that was attempting to immolate Selina Kyle. The blood-stained sai clutched in her left hand was at the ready as she sunk the blades into what she hoped to be a cluster of ligaments just below the critter's back-left femur but the _chrink _sound of her center blade slicing through a hint of skin before striking sturdy bone quickly informed her that she had either missed or guessed wrong. The mistake almost cost her several broken ribs as the brown and black-furred beast instinctively reared back to slam its massive hoof into her chest but a tight, low-launching back flip allowed her to avoid the clumsy but dangerous strike. Conversely, the move also took enough recovery time for the chimera to spin around on its haunches, its flaring maw and narrow, black eyes now focused solely on her.

_WHOOM!_

And that, conveniently enough, left quite the opportunity for Cassandra Sandsmark to toss in her own two cents. Her soaring, double-fisted strike to the creature's sternum may not have been as well thought out as Cecilia's attempt but the demigod was more than able to make up for that with her brute strength as she hammered the mighty addition to Circe's army with such force that it skidded across the floor for a good twenty feet before finally coming to a stop.

"Well, that alone was more entertaining than the whole of my senior year," the fair-haired Teen Titan and Elias graduate noted with a wry grin while hovering over her unconscious heap of a foe. A gust of wind then swept across the room as if it were destined to waft across the small of the adopted Amazon's back which tossed her long, golden mane so that it would drift across her slender shoulders as the afternoon sun soaked that tall, proudly set frame into a suitable moving photograph for a daughter of the Greek god of war. Still, despite all the egotism she could have drawn from her parentage on either side, the former Young Justice founder couldn't help but look sheepish as Cecilia fixed her with an annoyed glare. "Sorry about saving you. I was sort of running on instinct there."

As genuine as the explanation was, it still wasn't quite enough to fully appease the party's guest of honor. Of course, Cecilia also couldn't help but remember that this was a young woman who had started up her crime fighting career by resorting to impromptu thievery so she couldn't find it too surprising that the current Wonder Girl would be so quick to resort to impulsive behavior.

"I know, I know," Cissie impatiently replied while looking for more things to hurt, the sight of Cassie's modest confusion and mild discomfiture still managing to linger in the corner of the archer's eyes even as she turned away. It was enough to prompt Arrowette into putting a good deal of effort into wiping it from her senses because she was well aware that peering into those blue eyes would mean thinking about how much effort she had put into keeping her distance from what was once her best friend at the time when Cass needed her the most. That, in turn, would goad her into thinking about all the times she could have been there for her friend instead of remaining focused on herself. What her life was supposed to be like. How she was going to make up for the hole left in all of them by that arrogant, conceited punk who, on one godforsaken day, proved to be better than all of them.

She could have been there for them.

"Woah, where's your arrows there, Raphael?" interrupted the voice of a far more cheerful psychological landscape as the owner of it rushed into the rampaging path of the recently recovered Scylla. It didn't appear to be a very wise addition at first glance but Beast Boy secured his safety by transforming into a massive lion that was low enough to the ground to avoid Scylla's claws while simultaneously being strong enough to do some damage with its own paws as the sharp talons dug into and through the vulnerable midsection of the mythological beast. "Still, I guess it's always nice to see a friendly pair of legs," Garfield Logan considered while continuing to force his opponent back, his green mane now speckled with Scylla's black blood. "Don't suppose that this is your way of sayin' you wanna come join us at Titans Tower?"

"Can you ever stop thinking with your other head, Gar?" Wonder Girl asked back in irritation while moving to go toe-to-toe with the wounded monster, the fact that the annoyance didn't quite reach her eyes providing proof that the younger Titan was at least a little happy that the good-natured metamorph had chosen to horn in on the proceedings.

"Awww, come on, Wondy," Gar literally chirped back while taking the form of a Peregrine falcon in order to carry Cecilia away from Charybdis's growing clutches. "I mean, we've had a real lack of ladies ever since K'ory and Mia left so I'm just looking to recruit. Gender balance and all that good stuff, y'know?"

Cecilia was quite ready to offer a caustic reply in Cassandra's stead but a blinding flash of light informed the archer that no assistance was necessary. A deafening shriek accompanied the explosion of light, the energy within the ebony aura that wrapped around Charybdis circulating tendrils of electric energy that struck the monster continuously while trapping it within its own gravitational force. It was only a matter of seconds before the mythological beast dissolved into the sigil that had allowed its summoning, the calling card of Neron drawing a critical glare from the violet eyes of the sorceress that had indirectly caused it to appear. A deep sense of wintry foreboding came with the stern expression but its presence still pushed a relieved grin onto Arrowette's face as Beast Boy let out a soft squawk as the owner of those deep, lavender pools turned her attention towards him.

"And _why _are you looking for other women?" asked Raven Roth, the half-demon witch proving once again that she was one of the few souls capable of leashing Garfield Logan.

The moment was almost enough to make Cecilia hate the fact that she wasn't certain if this on-again, off-again couple was either the former or the latter but the sight of Wonder Girl hurtling past them quickly tabled the debate. Cissie took a moment to watch uselessly as her old friend crashed through the brick wall from the impact and the worry that came from that caused the slight hairs on the back of her neck begin to bristle as Raven summoned her dark energy once again, this time collecting it into a force barrier that momentarily kept the blood starved Scylla at bay. She twisted herself free from Beast Boy's claws, now long tired of being a burden and allowing for Gar to transform into a fully-grown timber wolf that would better allow him to rush in if Raven needed a hand. She could just make out the growl rumbling from the wolf's snout as each lunge of a massive head or crash from one of Scylla's many legs forced the daughter of Trigon to let out a tired grunt.

The supernatural blockade looked to be within seconds of shattering before Scylla found itself bound within jagged curls of electric currents that mixed nastily with the blood trickling from the open wounds on its wide abdomen. The combination quickly led Scylla into letting out another roar as the newest attacker poured it on, his normally brown eyes glimmering a bright blue from the strain.

"Come on, now. No talking when going between classes!" Virgil Hawkins reminded the target of his genetic gift, his long dreadlocks standing up slightly as a small percentage of the superconductive electromagnetic energy stored within his very cells continued to pour from his fingertips. The young hero known as Static continued to move forward two steps with each lumbering lurch that Scylla forced itself to take, the man's steady efforts providing a fine distraction until a wave of bluish-white energy sent Scylla crashing back down on its back. Cissie's ears were still ringing from the aftermath of Cyborg's sonic cannon even as the sigil appeared beneath Scylla's fallen form, the hum of the android's most potent weapon sounding almost soothing in the midst of the surrounding clamor.

"Man, I knew I should have worn an extra pair of pants today," Beast Boy noted as Cissie and the Titans all began to take in the remaining mayhem around them. "So has anybody seen Robbie lately?"

* * *

Years of serving as "the weak link" in Young Justice, The Teen Titans, and as part of Gotham's elite crime fighting duo had given Timothy Drake plenty of time to hone his talent for rescuing helpless bystanders from the line of fire. Though many of his more outspoken peers would occasionally consider his task to be little more than a throwaway duty, the third young man to don the mantle of Robin still managed to take pride in how he was able to bring his agility, foresight, and deductive abilities to the field as he saved lives. Additionally, and he wouldn't admit this to anyone, but he also took a necessary bit of good fortune from being able to dig into some of the strange situations that often came with the job, the young detective taking heart in these bizarre situations that were so capable of bringing out either the best or the worst in people.

Situations like rescuing his former boss, for example.

The strong mind of the San Francisco-based Robin was bursting at the seams with potential questions, anticipations, and trepidation but his near-addiction to keeping his emotions out of times like these helped hold them tight. Had he been wanting to look into it, he could have found a great deal of irony in the present showing of restraint. It was certainly a far cry from his first meeting with Bruce Wayne, a moment when he couldn't help but think that there was something strange behind the billionaire playboy and he couldn't wait to ask whatever was necessary to find out what.

Of course, to say that Tim had changed in the five years since he began his search for who lay beneath the cape and cowl of The Dark Knight of Gotham City would be a laughable understatement. So much so that it was almost a crime that the restraint soon gave way to a spike of anger that coursed through his right arm as Bruce pulled himself free from his protective grip.

_Why are you here? Why are you not in Gotham? Did The Flash know you were here? _

He was considered a child prodigy in the world of deductive reasoning, an investigator whose skills were supposedly years ahead of their time, but there was still no way that he could find a suitable answer to any of those queries.

_Why is Arrowette here? _

But that was the life of a detective, wasn't it?

_What are you doing? _

Decades spent trying to uncover all the answers even when you knew enough about the world to realize that doing so would only yield more questions.

_Why did you let me stay away from Gotham?_

Until the day comes that you ultimately forget the question you wanted answered in the first place.

"I'm glad that you and your team were able to make it here quickly," Bruce said, the deep tone of his half-Bruce, half-Bat voice easily working through Tim's reveries. "It's been a while."

"Circe wouldn't put this much effort into just bringing in The Riddler and you haven't been part of The Justice League in years," Drake replied, the boy trapped in the outermost portion of the younger orphan's mind screaming at the rest of him for being so rude. "So why did The Flash know where you would be?"

Bruce foolishly remained silent, the dim hope that the ruckus from the battle and the teens and school representatives rushing to leave it would make his former junior partner believe that he hadn't heard the question.

"Then why is Cecilia here?" Tim asked with greater forcefulness, his long, well-crafted forearms bulging as he held Bruce against one of the shiny locker stands. "Why has she been living in Gotham?"

Batman supposed that he could have been proud that his former student could remember the first rule of interrogation. "You've been keeping track of her."

"She's my friend!" Tim snapped back, the last word purposefully spoken like a bitter accusation. "And she was trying to find a life that outside of all of this and if you've done anything to keep that from happening. . ."

Now it was Bruce's turn to give in to his impulses as he shoved away the young man's attempt to hold him still before turning the full force of his cold stare upon his questioner. "Selina and I are here on her behalf and that's all the answers you'll get so long as your team needs you to do what you've been assigned to do!"

Tim's frighteningly familiar glare countered Bruce's unwavering authority without a trace of reservation. "All right," he conceded bitterly, the answers to many of his still lingering doubts already beginning to form. "Just stay out of my way."

* * *

_Hashmalum's Cleft_

"You stretched-out, tight-ass, flame-fucking servant of the man goat," Stephanie spat while turning her focus away from the two deceased powerhouses she should have been paying attention to. "You led us into a trap!"

The oracle remained calm and level-headed in the wake of Green Lantern's colorful display. "I assure you that I've done no such thing," Rubicante replied quickly and without a hint of trepidation. "And I believe I'll be kind enough to forgive that accusation in exchange for your unconscious decision to not frame your complaint in the form of another insufferable question."

Lloyd resisted the urge to sigh while employing his telekinesis to bring the hilt of the _Mugalshir _into his clenched left hand. "Yet you won't interfere," he supposed, his usually hazel eyes already taking on a tint of grey as he felt the Martian began to poke about the outermost defenses of his mind. "You may not be responsible for this but you aren't going to do a thing to stop it."

The hellfire-draped seer offered no nod of confirmation. "Awareness always has its penalties, Shell of The Condemner. Consider this a trial by fire, as it were," he replied, the wording soon forcing the pale-faced demon to tilt his thin, red lips to one side before adding, "and please pardon me for that dreadful play on words."

"Well, then at least one of you has brains," observed Arthur Light, the monster responsible for the sexual violation of dozens of women and the slaughter of thousands at Star City and other locales around the world taking delight in what little superiority he could maintain while still remaining trapped outside of the world of the living. The ragged remnants of his black-and-white battle armor gave a bit of a clue as to who this husk once was but nearly two years of damnation, death and decay had made the bulk of the beast almost unrecognizable. His skin was charred-black, brittle, and pockmarked with pallid bone shards that poked through the scant amount of flesh that remained. His nose and forehead were splintered and smashed, the damage brought upon by Bruce Wayne's first cold-blooded murder making the former Society figurehead's continuing to ooze out black blood.

"You tasty little children don't belong here," the spectral manipulation expert warned, his dry, snake-like tongue passing over the rotted remains of his teeth. "But give us a second and we'll see what we can do about that."

The Black Dog had only a moment to try and detect any sense of restraint or struggle for control on the features of The Martian Manhunter before an explosion of pure-light white signaled that the battle had begun. The bright red blast of Martian vision that followed Doctor Light's opening salvo further impeded the Brit's sights and forced him to settle with a cursory examination of the creature he once hoped to be a mentor.

J'onn's body was obviously in far better condition than Light's, the proud warrior's thick emerald skin not looking the least bit singed or decayed save for some zigzagging scars that lined the Malacandrian's chest. There was no sign of rotting or disrepair or any other signs that J'onn had sacrificed his life to ensure Lloyd's own safety and that lingering regret that came with those thoughts was enough to tilt Lloyd's opening lunge an inch-and-a-half to the left of where it needed to be. The offering of such a wide frame of space was a dangerous mistake and the JLA founder quickly capitalized by sliding around the gleaming silver saber and extending his left arm so that his strong fingers would be able to get a good grasp of Lloyd's hair.

"You've grown weaker," J'onn noted almost casually while condensing his arms back to their usual length and density, the added strength brought to his grip causing Lloyd to let out an anguished groan. "I was hoping that you would have taken my needless sacrifice as a demand to make yourself stronger." Having a free hand to work with, the composed servant of Neron continued to use his transforming abilities to shift his right hand into a sharp spike as strong as diamond and as dense as steel. His cold countenance remained as he thrust the transformed weapon into Lloyd's back and straight through the gap between the half-demon's back and chest, the boy's scream and the spurt of blood that accompanied it seemingly nothing at all to the once-compassionate observer of men. "Of course, I have been wrong about humanity before," he finally confessed, the malicious smile staying with him as Lloyd desperately teleported away before any more harm could come to him. The malice escalated into a hunter's hunger upon recognizing that the half-demon's fatigue only allowed him to travel a short distance away and he moved quickly to press the attack.

The bolt of blinding heat that spat from Lloyd's right hand was an almost desperate move but it was still enough to force a surprised shout from J'onn before the Martian's torso was engulfed with a yellowish flame that gave The Black Dog enough time to retrieve his blade. Wielding the unbreakable saber like a dart, he used a bit of stored telekinetic energy to send the _Mugalshir _screaming to the spot of muscle right between his opponent's eyes. His eyes widened as J'onn somehow managed to phase through the throw to evade the deathblow, the ability to pass through something as mystically dense a feat that J'onn couldn't have pulled off when he was still alive. Quickly bringing his sword back to him, the gaping aperture in his gut screamed with every spin or hint of motion but he still did his best to keep up as J'onn tried to lay him low with haymaker after haymaker.

It was right then when a blinding light exploded in front of his eyes and it didn't matter that he could guess why but J'onn had managed to pierce his psychological defenses. The purple veins along his temple bulged rapidly and bile escaped from the corners of his lips as a familiar grouping of painful recollections slid onto the surface with a viper's precision. The confident smirk on his father's face on the last day he would ever see him. The calm tone of his mother as she did her best to assure him that she would be strong from now on. Naomi when she said that he would be in good hands. Mao when he wrapped his right arm around his shoulders before saying that he wouldn't have to fight if he didn't want to. Kara flying away as she moved to challenge Darkseid without him.

"You were determined to seek answers from within our dominion while your heart and mind were clouded by doubt and suspicion," J'onn said simply, the faintest traces of contempt beginning to peek through. "That is a mistake you will not live to regret," he added before moving to rip the Earthling's mind apart from the inside out.

Stephanie could feel her hands cramping as she straightened her fingers out, the clenched muscles and metacarpals a side effect of each and every close call as her array of emerald beams and blasts countered her putrid adversary's attempts to do her harm. The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns couldn't help but think back to her battle with Amon Sur on the outskirts of Oa but the intensity of that vivid duel had been stymied by the war going on around her. Here there was nothing but the pervading gloom and the heat rising off the blood-red rocks but it was still enough to tax her patience and strengthen her determination to see her way through.

"Oh, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to taste you, bitch," Light said joyously as Rboin closed the gap between them, his own confidence making itself known. "I want to see you squirm as you take me in with your last breath. I wanna be right at the doorstep of Wayne Manor just to see that look on Wayne's face when Neron ships your corpse back to him, when he sees that I was enough of a man to mark you for my own."

"Well, whatever helps you sleep in hell, I guess," Stephanie gamely countered, the humor her ointment for the hot urgings of her anger. The successful clearing of any turbulent thoughts allowed for the hasty creation of her familiar energy talons that aided Stephanie in deflecting an almost pointblank spray of energy bolts that shot from Light's fingertips. Her confidence bolstered by the effective defense, she surged forward once she believed herself to be in the clear, the shine of her spectral blades glimmering off of her lightly-tanned forearms as she thrust her right arm forward. Fighting back the urge to scream as a burst of hard light crashed into her chest, the fair-haired Gothamite managed to work up the intestinal fortitude to strike back at the failed forceback and slid her right claw straight into Light's chest while coming forehead-to-forehead with the sick, murdering bastard with a jarring headbutt that nearly sent her stumbling backward as far as her target.

"Fuckin' tease!" Light mumbled back, his voice impeded as the force of the blunt trauma caused much of the skin remaining on his face to slither off his skull like well-cooked meat off a bone. It was only natural for someone with even as stern of stomach as Stephanie to be rendered a bit queasy by the sight and the sadist took a satisfying note of that as his bright, blue eyes zeroed in on his quarry. "Not liking what you're seeing, sweetie?" he added in a baldly lascivious manner as a thick bit of skin slowly slid down his chin. "Oh, but I can be a lot nastier. Can grind you into the dirt better than Wayne or your little Brit boytoy or that little beaner shit plowin' into you on your lonely nights."

Robin leaped at the scantest opportunity to put a stop to the sick monster's words. Moving quickly to claim the rest of Light's head, the determination in her designs proved to be too much for her intentions as Neron's willing subject was fast enough to avoid the lash of Robin's left claw so that it only severed a small portion of his right ear. A solid right hook to the body served as Stephanie's punishment, the heat still flowing from Light's fingers burning through her body armor and making the Green Lantern feel as if her rib cage had managed to fall onto a barbeque grill. Spinning backward with the impact, she chose to work from a distance by firing a spiraling beam of energy that seemed destined to punch through Light's black heart. The attack was brilliant in its formation and precision, so much so that her adversary could do nothing as the emerald light harmlessly flowed through his body and made him even stronger. He then proved his relatively healthy state by setting off a pulse of energy that exploded just in front of Stephanie's eyes, the burning of her retinas and the rupture of her irises filling Stephanie with an unstoppable agony as she fell to the ground like a ragdoll, her body struggling to recover.

Arthur Light smiled in response to this girl's. . . no. . . this woman's struggles as he moved forward with slow, loping steps. One of his metatarsals burst through the decayed bit of flesh that had once served as the outer half of a toe as he crawled onto his knees, his rancid right hand quivering as he burned through the belt that supported the lower half of the girl's armor before using that same, skeletal limb to pull down the waistband of her pants.

"Should have known better to play in my sandbox, Steffie," Light said hungrily. "Now I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

* * *

_November 29__th__ - The Haven – 12:24 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Roy should have guessed that this afternoon of mild surprises wouldn't have been complete without just a little more mayhem. That being said, he still couldn't help but be surprised with how things had worked out and how he became the last man standing now that the dust was settled, the handicaps of his all-too-human vulnerabilities proving to be the one thing that kept him from being among the fallen.

Disarming Slade before the mercenary could plunge his sword through Kid Devil's heart proved to be an easy task, his mind already working out the timing and geometry before he even brought the barrels of his revolvers to just the point he needed them to be. One tranquilizer dart to the right thumb and the other to the left wrist almost casually plinked off Deathstroke's gauntlets but the impact of the projectiles stayed the assassin's course for just long enough to allow Bloomberg to employ his superior strength to throw the iron-haired hired gun off of his chest. The show of mercy was enough to bring the battle to a momentary stop as Slade fixed him with a withering glare while Rose seemed to be torn between asking what the hell was going on and just saying the hell with it and running him through just because.

Then all hell broke loose. Somewhat literally, in fact, as he and his fellow combatants were surrounded by an ethereal blockade of symbols that were the same as those that had sprung up on Grove Street to spirit Sebastian Blood and his remaining troopers away. Some of the wiser demons hanging about the rafters and drifting within the poorly lit corners of the makeshift sanctuary recognized what the sigils meant and started to scatter, some of them informing others of the incoming threat while many more simply fled for any bit of open air they could find.

The combination of Rose's agility and her experience in such matters while working with the Titans allowed Ravager to be the first to respond, the headstrong heroine letting loose a roar of frustration as she took her blades to any follower of Brother Blood that she could find. Slade, of course, was quick to follow, the mercenary's unquestionable egotism removing any temptation to apologize for any potential mistakes as he prepared a Heckler & Koch MP5 in order to tear apart the attacking hell spawn from a distance. Of course, this left Eddie to almost mournfully ask Neron's followers to leave "his friends" alone in exchange for taking him and _that_ lead to Rose yelling at Eddie for being a pussy and that. . .

The _swoosh _of hastily moving feet had proven to be just enough of a warning for Roy to side roll out of the way of Sebastian Blood's opening strike: a palm strike that, if it had connected, would have forced the red-headed sharpshooter into a fairly unhealthy appointment with a steel staircase. The frustration was evident on the vampiric cult leader but that aggravation quickly gave way to outright anger as the young immortal fixed his hypnotic glance upon Harper.

"No one will save you this time, human," Blood vowed with an almost petty hiss. "You _will _pay your penance for impeding upon my designs."

"Oh, and here I thought you were just trying to get a chunk of my hide 'cause I shot you in the ass," Roy countered breezily while replacing the Colt in his right hand with a metal chakram, the thick wooden handle in the middle allowing the weapon to be used as either a melee weapon or a projectile. "'Cause, just between you and me, you did kinda strike me as the 'petty, little bitch' type."

The former nobleman's stockpile of anger seemed to be threatening to bubble out of control again before an eerie calm seemed to come over the pallid monster.

"Who said your punishment would be delivered to you?"

Roy's baby-blue eyes widened as he considered the possibilities behind the threatening words but by the time he figured it out it was too late to stop his aggressor as he faded away, the beast rushing towards his newfound prey. An attempt to bring Neron's general down with a shot to the left kneecap missed by about a foot to the left and it wasn't a fraction of a second later until Sebastian Blood was already in striking distance, his sharp fangs doubtlessly extended as he cheerfully gave in to his supernatural tendencies. The surprised scream that rose from Ravager's lips as her neck was torn into soon became laced with hatred and profanity but the rage wasn't enough to keep Rose on her feet as she fell to the factory floor, the pool of her own blood growing steadily despite the young woman's attempts to stop it.

The symphony of Eddie's scream, Slade's growl, and Blood's laughter served as a chilling undertone as Roy emptied his revolver into the vital spots of any violent demon he could find before using his chakram to slit the throat of the human familiar that had been foolish enough to get in his way. "Keep your head in the game, Kid Devil!" Arsenal hollered out over the chaos, his order only slightly deterred as he spun around the charging tusks of a Luxadontor demon before bringing it down with a slice across the heels. "Rose'll be all right but you sure as hell won't be if Blood can take you back to Neron!"

It was right around then that Roy decided that he owed young Edward Bloomberg a slap to the back of the head because it was just around that moment when the half-demon seemed to go out of his way to immediately ignore his warning. Slade was also decidedly eager to flout the sensible demand but the old man at least had the wherewithal to regain his senses before Sebastian could spring the next part of his trap on him as well. Of course, that still left them with a big problem as Blood rushed up behind Kid Devil and forced him to his knees with a stiff kick to the small of Bloomberg's back. The jarring force behind the attack left Kid Devil all but defenseless as Blood wrapped his manicured left hand around the throat of his fellow half-demon.

"Thank you for being so eager to provide me with what I was here to get, Edward Bloomberg," Blood remarked, the satisfaction of a job well done already shining in his blood-red eyes as his avenue of escape began to create itself beneath his feet and Bloomberg's trembling knees. "I'd advise you not to worry so much about the girl," he added as Eddie struggled to break his grip. "Your soul will soon have no room for such sentiments."

The surrounding cavalcade of Blood's troopers ensured that Roy wasn't going to have a shot at stopping Blood's retrieval of Neron's pawn and the red-haired sharpshooter had to give credit to the bloodsucker for thinking that far ahead. Of course, a sizeable portion of those points were soon rescinded upon the recognition that the youngest of Neron's lieutenants had failed to fully compensate for the most dangerous piece of the battlefield's puzzle.

Out of all the shit that was handed to him in his life, both self-inflicted and otherwise, Roy considered himself blessed that he only had a handful of opportunities to take on Slade Wilson in a direct encounter. However, the chances he did have the misfortune to do so ultimately compelled him to ask Nightwing about any tips or pointers he could put under advisement should the unfortunate circumstance happen again. Grayson, in response, took about three seconds to look at him as if he had lost every hint of sanity before the acrobatic detective provided him with what he thought to be the most relevant piece of advice.

Make sure Slade was talking to you.

Simply put, a talking Slade Wilson meant a Deathstroke that wasn't fully focusing on ending you efficiently, painfully, or usually both. The confidence that came with the physical and psychological prowess did manage to leave the Vietnam War veteran with the confidence that he didn't need to put his complete attentions to accomplishing his mission and that potential weakness was the only real shot that a vast majority of people in the superhero community had at even managing to keep up with the super soldier and mercenary extraordinaire.

And, in case the possibility escaped anyone who happened to be listening in on the thoughts of Roy Harper, the Slade Wilson that attacked Sebastian Blood was decidedly silent.

The frighteningly precise kick to Blood's right shin removed any speed advantage the half-demon could have had and the follow-up right cross shattered the immortal's nose and prompted a large globule of cold, dead blood to fly out of the kid's mouth. An amazingly foolish Fyarl demon then attempted to break into the one-sided fight as Blood tumbled to the ground, the beast charging in head-on in the hopes of protecting his master. The scene was just enough for Roy to briefly ponder over whether he could spare a bullet or the time to line up the shot that would put the poor beast out of its misery but Slade easily beat him to the punch with a cougar-like forward lunge that allowed the old man to swing to the beast's back by grabbing its black tusks with his hands. The ear-piercing _craaaack _of the demon's neck was soon to follow, the power behind Deathstroke's pull enough to nearly spin the Fyarl's head around a full 180 degrees before his corpse was tossed on top of the same demon it had been trying to protect. The dead weight trapping Blood provided just enough of a distraction for Slade to land a painful-looking punt kick that shattered the left side of the demon's skull helmet and ultimately convinced the overmatched demon to beat a hasty retreat that left Slade screaming for the poor sap to stay and finish what he had started.

The rest of the battle was academic as Roy mostly devoted himself to the task of protecting Eddie and Rose from any other demons that didn't want to play nice. As it happened, the two teens were quite comfortable with handling the bulk of that task themselves as the two Titans had used the distraction to move closer in order to watch the other's back (well, at least after Rose had engaged in a brief and colorful argument concerning Eddie's need to work on guarding his own back). A couple of fairly hectic minutes followed before the rest of Blood's troopers had either fallen or ran off, the activity prompting Eddie to fall on his butt in exhaustion after the last Kwari demon had been taken down with a gout of his own flame breath. The kid's crimson-colored skin was still smoking from the excess heat but that wasn't enough to keep Rose from catching her perhaps boyfriend on the way down the sizzle of her scalding gloves apparently going unnoticed by the supposedly hard-hearted heroine. Slade noticed the showing of care too, the assassin spending a frightfully long 15 seconds standing over the fallen duo with a silent look of appraisal before he stooped down on one knee to offer his hand and thank Kid Devil for doing what he could to protect his daughter. That, in turn, pushed Rose into skidding forward on her knees and wrapping her father in a hug that Slade tried his best not to return with too much enthusiasm.

And that was where they were now with Eddie looking understandably confused at the goings on, Slade and Rose embracing and Roy counting down just how long he had before Lian got interested in boys.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 12:33 P.M. _

The Flash had long since stopped asking how he managed to draw this much attention from attractive, single women only after getting married. Granted, this particular matter was just a small part of a widespread theory replete with a plethora of explanations just in his particular field of expertise alone but that didn't mean that he still didn't think that his case was still a little bit special.

Cause, hey, it's not like Diana ever looked at him that way before he brought Linda up to see The Watchtower. Come to think of it, this probably also explained why his wife had stopped asking if she could get an exclusive interview with Wonder Woman.

Or it could have been just a coincidence.

What the hell was he talking about? Oh yeah, the immortal witch trying to kill him.

It was highly unlikely that any sane gentleman would want to have a piece of the energy bolts or the outrageously strong punches and kicks that Circe was attempting to offer him but The Fastest Man Alive made certain to use his superior speed to weave his way around the attacks while trying to land a few of his own. Unfortunately, a left jab to the temple failed to even cut the skin, a middle kick that barely grazed the witch's shapely abdomen didn't stop her for a second and a series of ineffective strikes to the neck and shoulders didn't leave Neron's co-conspirator any less ready for a fight.

"_Poor little hero. So very quick to lash out at the world he's frustrated to live in," _Circe said mockingly, her supernatural gifts enabling her to telepathically communicate with Wally while not having to enter his mind directly. _"One would think your family would prefer you to be by their side rather than watching you pick unnecessary fights."_

"You're trying to help bring Neron back to Earth," Wally noted back, his voice drowned out by his own velocity as he blazed around a trio of homing energy bolts that he arranged to crash into each other. "This is just me choosing to get into the fight now instead of having to do it later."

Circe's full lips inches upward as The Flash came to a stop, the foundation of her snare already starting to ripen. "Such are the weighty decisions asked upon the gods."

"I'm not a god."

"_Oh, but you are_," the enchantress countered with the grace and allure of a siren's song. "_You are a pathetic simpleton and something far greater than a man. __You seek connections with those you wish to defend despite the certainty that your godhood will leave those people charred within your wake. You claim to wish to live a normal life yet you continuously return to the great gifts given to you by the thunder of Zeus himself."_

Wally managed to drift around and through Circe's energy bolts until he had a couple extra nanoseconds to rush up from behind the witch and grab her by the wrists. The witch easily recovered, of course, but the time she needed to do so allowed The Flash just enough time to allow The Flash to lean forward and whisper in her ear.

"And this is coming from a lady who butchered her students just to get another chance to fail to kill Diana."

The Flash wasn't certain whether he was surprised more by his own words than with the anger broiling through Wonder Woman's frequent foil as she summoned a series of tremors that caused his feet to falter as he stumbled and slid across the carpet. The race to get his feet was a short one and ultimately cut short as Circe swept the still speedster into her telekinetic grasp. The immortal's blood-red eyes continue to cool from their previous blaze of hatred and were nearly back to their usual, dull glow as she managed to move her captive close enough to trace his jaw line with her right ring finger.

"So much unnecessary rage," Circe cooed while taking another succulent moment to admire her prize. "It's almost a shame that it has to be laid to rest."

_KRACK!_

Wally couldn't help but be confused at the sight of his attempted rescuer as Nigma held the unbroken half of his walking cane within his trembling fists. The remnants of the shattered half, on the other hand, were left to either fall uselessly to the floor or sully the formerly-perfect hairstyle of what was now an annoyed, insulted, and quite healthy eternal enchantress.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

The only thing that Wally could pick up from The Riddler was an "eep" so high-pitched that his ears could barely pick it up. Of course, the scant amount of hilarity he could have taken from it all was quickly taken away as Circe wrapped the long fingers of her left hand around Nigma's pale, clammy face and pushed the private investigator back with so much strength that the garishly garbed quickly went airborne. The predicament was enough to push Wally into expelling a desperate burst of kinetic energy that earned him freedom from Circe's distracted grip but that wasn't enough to keep The Riddler from crashing into a web of black energy that generously slowed down Nigma's travels while also making certain that he wouldn't fall away from it when physics eventually pushed him forward.

"Why. . . why?" The Riddler asked his rescuer, the logic-loving, dominant portion of his brain cursing him both for his lack of eloquence and the absence of a witty anagram.

"Because you're worth saving," Raven replied, a whisper of a smile gracing her otherwise inscrutable face.

"All right. That's it! Blood already screwed up his job so there's no reason for me to stay," Circe declared while creating a force barrier that pushed The Flash off of his feet and away from her. "Don't think that I'll forget your interference," she then warned The Flash as Wonder Girl slid in front of the young father in order to keep Wally from being thrown out the building through the gaps of the shattered windows. "The time for your choice is quick in coming, ambitious mortal. Whether you like it or not, you will answer for your indecision."

A dazzling explosion of light spread through the room as Circe's army departed, the impressive display of destruction surrounding Kyle, Nigma, West, and the Titans serving as the only remaining bit of evidence that the supernatural creatures were there in the first place. Even the corpses had been taken away, a fact that The Riddler took a great deal of interest in judging from how his still trembling fingers was stroking his gaunt chin. The Flash found the matter intriguing as well, so much so that he made a note to tell Bruce about it as soon as he could.

"Man! And to think that the most exciting thing that happened at my high school graduation was one of the Portapotties backing up!"

It didn't take much to convince Wally that Beast Boy's input on the situation didn't need to be included in his report.

* * *

Stephanie's mind was somehow on fire but also running deathly cold as Arthur Light's dessicated body clambered on top of her, the searing skin on her chest and arms racking Robin with too much pain for her to overcome. The sharp jut of the serial rapist's right elbow brushed along her inner thigh as he crawled up her body, his bony fingers taking great care to slide along any thick blister or bleeding cut he could find as he continued his path. His low chortle seemed to scrape at her gut as he brought his face into the crook of the girl's shoulder, perhaps to take a lingering whiff of her sweat and shampoo despite the fact that his body no longer allowed him to do so.

It wasn't until Light ran his cold tongue against her collarbone that Stephanie could muster up the energy to fight back. Still, even the greatest of wills could be deterred by fear and the instincts that came with them and the explosion of emerald energy that poured from her skin only served to feed Arthur, the thick, pure portion of her flowing away and colliding with the heart of a monster, never to return. The failed attempt brought out a round of raucous laughter from Light even as he wrapped his fingers around Stephanie's wrists, his grip leaving huge burns along the stern skin.

"Well, well, well. Looks like I might just have to kill ya to get what I want out of this," Light reasoned as the struggles of the girl beneath him started to intensify. "But it's been a long time since I've gotten a hold of a peach like you and you'd be surprised how long a corpse can stay warm."

Stephanie's consuming horror couldn't hide her from how cold Light's fingers were. The chill of the dead fingertips against her warm skin was nearly enough to bring her back down to something she didn't need to be. She was becoming a child again, her young mind still too unfamiliar with the world to recognize what was happening until it was far too late. Her horrified eyes twisted the disgusting image in front of her until the thin, emaciated features became rounder, more fleshed, and bore the once familiar and comforting eyes of her longtime babysitter. The man that her parents had entrusted to keep her safe. The first person she had come to trust. It was almost impossible to match that kindly man with the monster who held her down by wrapping a beefy hand around her neck, trapping her against the cushions of the living room couch as he brutally took what he wanted, his efforts branding her with eternal proof that she would never be worthy of anyone's love or honest affection. She would always be alone no matter how hard she wanted otherwise or how brightly she smiled or how many bad jokes she told.

_No, no, no._

Lloyd would never care for her like a brother.

_No, no, nononono._

Bruce would never see her as his daughter.

_Nonononono._

She had nothing. She was nothing.

"AAAAAAAAGH!" Arthur Light screamed as his body wrenched backward in pain, his yellowed fingernails scratching and clawing at his skull and what remained of his face. "Nooooooo! Stay out of my mind!"

Robin couldn't help but blink as Doctor Light's weight came off of her chest as the madman wrenched in agony. The sight was all that she needed for her power to come back with full force and and she was more than happy to put it to use. A bestial roar rose from her parched lips as she threw her right arm forward, her closed fist punching through the sternum of her vile attacker and collapsing what was left of the man's unbeating heart. She considered it an unexpected bonus that the pain she had inflicted seemed to bring Light down to what passed for his normal mindset, the psychopath riddled in pain and seething with frustration.

"Nice to see you've still got some fight in you," Light said as Stephanie slipped her gore-stained limb from his chest, the enthusiasm brought about by his anticipation of things to come blunting the annoyance he felt at seeing his vulgar ambitions fall short. "Just remember that I've got a piece of you in me now, sweetie. And you're never gonna get it back unless you take me in with open arms."

Light puckered his lips as if he was going to lean in for a kiss before he faded away in another detonation of energy. The protections offered by her Oan power ring protected Stephanie from being burned too badly by the nova-like blast but the disorientation brought about by the illuminating escape made it quite easy for the darkest corners of her heart and mind to be dragged out for full perusal and the pain of it all sunk in deep. The misery mixed with the strain of her recent efforts and prompted her to fall listlessly to the ground, the right side of her body skidding messily against the smoldering gravel and lifeless soil as her eyes uselessly took in the reddish smoke high above her head.

* * *

It was only thanks to his determination that Lloyd had survived this long. His eyes were dry and bloodshot, his chest and shoulders emaciated by the physical and psychological strain brought upon by his rigors. The thick ridges of his usually well-hidden cheekbones could be seen through his sallow features as his mind drew upon all the reserves available to it to prevent its cerebral cortex from shutting down. His legs quivered beneath them, the usually sturdy limbs now little more than rubbery strings of sinew that were somehow being asked to hold up solid steel.

He wondered if he would see Vincent again. The real one. The one before the monster finally grabbed a hold of him and refused to let go.

"Let it be known that I appreciate your choice to make this simple, demon spawn," J'onn informed his captive with a tone of utter contempt. "You look upon my face and see the sum total of your failures, understanding all the reasons why you should stop fighting your tendencies before more people you care about it are forced to pay for your lack of hubris and I assure you that you will receive your wish."

A strong part of Lloyd wanted to shout back that he didn't want to die and he wasn't about to but that foolish sliver was easily drowned out by a cold voice of reason, the same presence that Lloyd and the involuntary guest within him had constructed through nearly a decade of cohabitation. _Help me, Za-hafal'-nesh,_ it said calmly even as J'onn continued to amplify his telepathic assault. _This isn't going to work without you pitching in!_

But The Condemner remained silent and the owner of that sensible voice couldn't quite figure out why. Taking his half away, Lloyd clouded his already distracted mind by wondering what his demonic half could possibly gain from him dying. Did he believe that Neron had a way to circumvent the work of Doctor Lugae and bring him back to a corporeal form as he did with J'onn and Arthur Light? Did Za-hafal'-nesh finally come to the conclusion that an eternity of nonexistence would be better than a life of servitude?

The Black Dog knew he couldn't answer that, particularly not now. All he could do was feel his mind shutting down, hear J'onn's vicious declaration that he would now take revenge for being robbed of what was rightfully was, and smile as a wonderfully familiar green light drifted in from the corner of his eyes. The spiraling ray of energy punched through J'onn's left shoulder and forced The Martian Manhunter to cut off his assault. This coincidentally left Lloyd with no recourse but to fall to the ground face-first, his bleary hazel eyes just making out the orange-and-black boots that he had convinced the owner to buy despite her argument that they would make her look like a walking pumpkin.

"You leave him alone," Stephanie said, a fearsome growl resonating with each word. Her eyes took on a hue of emerald that was just as bright as the aura that wrapped around her body as she surged forward with her energy claws at the ready. The double-handed spinning slash she began the exchange with was easily countered by some quick intangibility before J'onn fired back with a haymaker that caught the unfocused Robin on the right side of her abdomen and sent her crashing back down, her tumbling body colliding with Lloyd's despite the half-demon efforts to steer clear.

J'onn felt the need to chuckle at the tangle of limbs that was supposed to pass for his opponent and followed that urge without reservation. "Neither of you are strong enough to be a worthy challenge anymore," the self-assured Martian already preparing a wave of Martian vision that would incinerate his master's lackluster challengers. "And my patience is at an end."

Lloyd's unconscious combining of his waning powers with Stephanie's was enough to produce a force barrier capable of staving off the lethal cosmic radiation that intended to be J'onn's finishing blow but it was the rumbling of the earth beneath them that signaled the true end of the battle. These focused tremors were soon followed up by plumes of stone rising around the grounded Martian that somehow managed to reflect J'onn's energy back at him, the pain cutting off the attack as well as stalling any attempt the servant of Neron could make to flee the bizarre trap being constructed around him. The cage continued to grow and harden as a spiral of magma erupted from the ground nearly 10 meters away from the makeshift prison, the quite natural occurrence signaling the unusual arrival of the architect. The anticipation in the warrior's eyes was nearly palpable as she floated in front of the two tired Misfits, her skinny frame easily balanced on a flat slab of rock that hovered nearly two feet off the ground.

"How dare you!" the Martian seethed angrily, his scarlet eyes flaring with frustration. "You are not allowed to aid the undeparted, least of all the enemies of Lord Neron!"

The blue-eyed geokineticist responded by waggling her finger at the struggling prisoner, her oversized front teeth bringing a deep note of mockery to her smile.

"Well, then it's not the first time I broke somebody else's rules," noted Tara Markov, the former teammate and traitor of The Teen Titans seemingly taking a great deal of pleasure in her prisoner's growing panic. "Oh, and don't think that you're gonna wiggle your way out of this with your ghostie powers. You wanted to start some trouble under the earth and this is _my _house." The old, familiar cockiness that embodied her actions in life hadn't been fully satiated by death as she casually readjusted her goggles, the clear lenses of the spectacles allowing J'onn a clear view of the malice in the otherwise peaceful countenance. "And now it's time to let the motherfucker _burn_!"

J'onn wasn't even given the time to scream as a wave of lava enveloped him, the intense heat quickly melting away his hastily made prison. Though it was true that a Martian's constitution was many times tougher than that of a regular Earthling, the fact that Terra had brought flame and extreme heat into her work had allowed her to strike at the Manhunter's Achilles heel. The damage was so thorough that Neron's servant was broken down to the very simplest of genetic frameworks before fading away altogether, his very being dissipating within the foundation of what had become his adopted home.

"Well, that there was a laugh and a half," Lloyd heard his rescuer happily proclaim while continuing to work her magic as the overflow of he volcanic emission was quickly brought back down under the smoldering earth. However, his silent observations were soon broken up by his own ragged gasp as a tugging sensation sprung from his bleeding abdomen before working its way up to his sternum as Markov turned to face them, the living dead girl looking quite pleased with her efforts as she blew him a kiss. "Looks like you've run out of quarters, kiddies," she reported as The Black Dog's vision began to blur. "Do try to keep yourself alive until we meet again."

It was all Lloyd could do but to throw his right arm out and stop Stephanie before she could get too far away, his tired mind already taxed with the efforts that came with getting him and Robin back to where they needed to be. He could feel the dreadful bliss of unconsciousness waft over him as another burst of light fell in front of his eyes, the delirium prompting a short prayer from his lips.

* * *

"Come back to me, Lloyd," whispered a gentle, unyielding, but altogether confident voice that ultimately pulled The Black Dog back to the land of the living. His successful efforts to pry open his tired eyes earned him the pleasure of being ensnared within a familiar pair of crystalline blue eyes, the comfortable trappings forcing out a ghost of a smile. "I knew you were there."

Lloyd let out a tired sigh of relief as Kara continued to look down at him. Her face was marred with scratches and burn scars, the largest being a thick gash that nearly ran across her forehead from eyebrow to eyebrow that continued to crawl out just a dabble of blood here and there as her hyperaccelerated metabolism worked to close up the wound. Her lower lip was purple and distended from what looked to be the impact of a ferocious punch and the short cleft of skin just beneath it was caked with grime and soot. Her hair was frazzled from the wind and matted down with sweat and blood and the peasant's blouse he had bought for her on their last trip to England was damaged beyond repair.

"Bugger, you're beautiful."

Kara somehow resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Neron brought some of his buddies to come over and play while you guys were out," Kara explained, her small but gentle right hand pressing firmly down on Lloyd's shoulders as her lover tried to lift his head off of her jean-clad legs. She allowed herself a smile as Lloyd's eyes snapped to attention while the rest of his body wisely stayed put.

"Zalbarda?"

"Sabbac," the half-Kryptonian answered, her unencumbered hand now busy working through the tangles of Lloyd's sweat-strewn hair. "The first guess is that it was just another thing to keep us busy until Neron's army could get a hold of their little pawn but Hal, Roy, and Slade apparently managed to get him to safety."

Lloyd bobbed his head up and down, the urge to go back to sleep beginning to overpower him again. "Any casualties?"

Kara made certain to give her lover's hair a bit of a tug to bring him back to focus. "Scandal," she answered, her eyes widening upon realizing just how her answer could have been taken. "Oh, but she's recovering. Looks like she got in Sabbac's way as he was trying to make his way in here and she caught a face full of hellfire before I could throw him out of the building." There was no way she could have ignored that flicker of shame that dashed across Lloyd's otherwise inscrutable countenance and she couldn't help but love him for it. "She said she'd like a word with you once her lips grow back."

The Black Dog let out a spurt of relieved laughter. "That's my shrew," he said hoarsely while raising a quivering arm so that his fingers could graze along Kara's cheek in a way that he knew would prompt her into closing her eyes. "Don't deserve all I've got, do I?"

"Nope," Kara quickly replied, her actions belying her words as she bent down to plant a slow, lingering kiss on Lloyd's lips.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Elias Academy Convocation Hall – 1:22 P.M. _

Now that the dust had finally cleared (Just the metaphorical dust, mind you. There was little doubt that the physical grime would remain here for quite some time.), this ruined celebration's glum guest of honor decided to take stock of her situation. After all, if there was anything she had learned after nearly two years of serving as Bruce Wayne's understudy it was that the best way to avoid unfortunate circumstances in the future was by analyzing the problem areas of the present time.

So. . . one ruined silk dress complete with punch stains, burn scuffs, and a torn hem caused when she had to tear it apart in order to get to the weapons she had strapped into her leggings: Check.

Probability of one Alfred Pennyworth giving her a stern and erudite lecture concerning the foolishness of using her own money to rent a dress when certain residents of Wayne Manor had more than enough resources to buy one: 99.99999%.

Present location of Bonnie King-Jones: Unknown.

Odds that she would be honest if she was asked about how she felt that her mother had abandoned her: 20 to 1.

Likelihood that she currently felt as miserable as she had when she was five and walked three miles home in the pouring rain because her mother had forgotten to pick her up from practice because she was busy trying and failing to land a spot on a new reality show: 100%.

Still, in the interest of fairness, the painful 15-year-old memories were partially brought about because Cissie was too ashamed to ask anyone for a ride. What made the current situation that much more frustrating was the simple fact that it probably wouldn't be long until she would be asked how she felt about all this and that meant she would have to talk about being angry and pissed off and heartbroken instead of simply bottling it all up just as she thought God had intended her to do. And, sure enough, the quiet footsteps echoing off the floorboards allowed for some of that rage to bubble to the surface until she was more than ready to release it but it was all she could do to keep herself from sobbing.

"Anything I can do, Cissie?" The Flash asked gently, the feeling of the young father's arm around her still shoulders almost enough to make her start bawling outright.

"What's it like?" she ended up replying, her inquiry spoken with the candor of a child: all innocence and sticky sadness and barely subdued desperation.

"What's what like?" the elder of the two Misfits parroted back, the speedster fairly well aware of what Cecilia had meant but also thinking that it might be better if she spoke the words herself.

"To have a parent who actually saw you as a child," Arrowette finally confessed, the loss of her pride coercing her into drooping her eyes back down to the floor. She could dimly feel the grip on her shoulders strengthening just a fraction but it wasn't enough to give her the strength to look back up.

"It's the best and the worst thing in the world," Wally admitted, the time he needed to cobble up a sufficient answer filling him up with his own conflict, an acknowledgment that maybe the life he liked to complain about so frequently wasn't that bad at all. "On the one hand, you know that you have somebody who loves you, unconditionally and unforgivably, and that's something that can keep you moving even when you don't even know where you want to go." He knew his explanation wasn't quite as pristine as he would have liked but his thoughts were already clouded by a tide of memories. He was fishing for trout on the Mississippi, he was arguing about unfair teachers and the proper punishment for bad marks, he was dying to run away as the raucous applause from the front row interrupted his path to receive his high school diploma and he was wondering what the voice of reason in his life could have been thinking when he said that his final request was for him to work with a man that he didn't even know he could trust.

"And the other hand?" asked Cecilia, the pause in her friend's explanation and the recognition of where it was coming from bringing the fair-haired archer out of her funk.

Wally let out a sigh, the redhead a little bit perturbed that he had so quickly adopted the role of the supported. "You'll never stop thinking that you could be letting them down somehow," he eventually answered, the admission earning him a one-armed embrace of his own. "That whenever you take some time off from whatever you're supposed to be doing is right when you miss the opportunity to earn all the love you received."

The enormity of those words forced a moment of silence from the two vigilantes as life continued to swirl around them. Working crews were beginning to work their way around the bystanders and staff, tasks were being assigned, and recovery was already on the way.

"Damn. Do we have issues or what?"

Wally let out one of those laughs that ended up so loud and sporadic that you couldn't believe that you let it out until well after it was already gone. It was enough to draw Cissie into the merriment as well, the once-exiled, once-abandoned daughter reveling in her revelation against the lunacy of it all.

"Oh, God, we do." Wally agreed, the former Teen Titan and Justice Leaguer almost tempted to wipe a tear from his eye.

"I wish I could have met Barry," Cissie shyly confessed, the words bringing the good-natured grin back onto her older friend's face. "And I know he would say that you were doing the best job you can do, both as a hero and a dad."

Wally supposed that he could have provided a proper reply to that but the stiff clearing of a throat gave him the opportunity to opt out. He finally broke his hold on Cecilia as he turned to face another wandering pair, the elder of the two drifting through the chaos in his well-practiced gainful strides while the younger one slumped behind him, his hands jammed into the pockets of his dress pants.

"Well, well. What's with all the sad faces here?" Bruce Wayne asked in a jovial manner, his oblivious smile on full display at the ready. "I thought that this was supposed to be a party."

"Yeah, but nobody stayed around to help clean up," Wally lamely offered back. "Speaking of which, where'd your little lady friend run off to?"

The growl that was just at the cusp of the foppish persona managed to rise up to the border of Bruce's throat before he managed it back down, his efforts hardly made easier while being trapped within the chortling of his younger comrades. "Well, it seems that my delectable little kitten became overtired after all the excitement," he then replied, his active eyes keeping track of the fire fighters that managed to notice both a celebrity and a superhero in their midst. "She did manage to summon a taxi back to our hotel room. . . a lovely little establishment I'm sure I'll learn all about once I see it on my credit card bill."

Cecilia allowed herself some unrestrained laughter even as she swung her sights to the younger brooder. "Hey, Timbo. Long time, no see, buddy." She wasn't too surprised when Drake responded with a curt nod, the detective obviously quite focused on figuring out just what the hell was going on and that was enough to make Cissie turn her attentions back to Bruce. "You know, you never really did explain why you came out here," she pointed out while crossing her arms across her chest. "It couldn't have been because of Circe 'cause you clearly didn't know about the trap until she was almost ready to use it."

Bruce raised his eyebrows in a melodramatic manner, the gesture a pathetic substitution for the rejoinder he would have provided were he not currently playing his part. "Well, I think the better question would be why two upstanding citizens like yourselves would be wasting your time in Gotham. After all, it's not as if other cities or other people wouldn't accept you with open arms." The joviality in his tone remained but the stern stillness of Bruce's blue eyes was relentless in presenting what was truly on his mind.

Wally wasted no time. "Well, you already know my reasons. My old lady loves her new place and her new job and I'd be risking some very vital body parts if I disagreed with the hellhole she managed to find them in," he replied, his carefree tone triggering a knowing look between Bruce and Cecilia that went completely unnoticed by the usually attentive father of two. "So how about you, blondie? Would it be rude to guess that this all has to do with guilt and abandonment issues?"

Arrowette thought that she was quite merciful when she merely stomped on the fastest feet alive before turning back to face her inquisitor. "Well, I think today's little tragedy went a long way to proving that there's not much of a past for me to focus on," she supplied in a fatigued but calm note of sincerity. "So why go and try to switch things up in the present if that's shaping up fairly nicely as it is?"

The slow, sincere dip of his head wasn't the least bit appropriate for a billionaire without a problem in the world but that didn't stop Bruce from using that as his response. "Well, that's a very healthy way of looking at things," he said brightly, his persona quickly restored as he moved towards Cecilia with an absurdly graceful stride. He extended his right hand as he came within arm's length of his partner, the move fully revealing a rolled up parchment that he invited Cecilia to take from him. He was quite patient in waiting for her response as she unfurled his gift, his lips threatening to break into a genuine smile as Cecilia's eyes widened upon taking in the sight of her high-school diploma, something she surely thought to have been destroyed in all the chaos.

"That being said, it might be wise to keep around a few past possessions."

Cissie still managed to hold back her tears even as she buried her face into Bruce's chest, her arms quickly latching around his back. The slight but sincere return of the embrace may have not meant much to many but the daughter of Bonnie King had grown to take comfort in whatever she was given and this cranky old man's gesture was enough to convince her that the results of the blood test and whatever was going on in her mother's mind didn't matter as much as she thought it would. It did, of course. Maybe even more than she hoped it did but at least she could get away from it, if only for a little while.

"I missed out on a whole lot, didn't I?" asked Tim Drake.

After all, there had to be some advantages to being the star of the show.

* * *

_Hong Kong – Tenryu Tower Rooftop – 6:21 P.M. East Asia Standard Time_

Lloyd knew that the _clack _of the door's metal gears sliding against one another would alert the person he was hoping to sneak up on but there was no way he could allow that to stop him. Wiping the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, he slowly approached Stephanie as she continued to keep her back to him, the usually lively Gothamite standing as still as a statue. Only a short moment of consideration was needed to convince The Black Dog to simply stand at the Green Lantern's side, the sight of the setting sun looming over the city's enormous harbor providing a pleasant distraction. He had once found some symmetry with how the vivid reds, oranges, and purples cast by the faraway star were forced to be blunted by the hanging clouds before it could wash over the tall yachts and touring ships or bank off the broad fronts of the steel commercial boats that had returned after a long journey. The deep, clearing breath he gave out at the somewhat forgotten sight reminded the young man of how many different lives kept on going beneath and beyond their sights, each of them defined by their exceptions but still linked to their continuous, shared, and altogether involuntary movement.

"Vincent and I used to come up here."

The Black Dog had no idea why he decided to start with that but it's what he went with and he chose to stick with it. "Y'know, after we were done with our training and our schooling and if we didn't have an assignment or anythin'."

Stephanie replied with a disinterested "huh", a typically clear indication that it would be wise for her adopted brother to change topics as quickly as he could.

"Heard you already shooed Kara away."

"Yep," Robin included, her pale blue eyes refusing to go anywhere but on the picturesque skyline.

"Gonna shoo me away too?"

"Thinking about it," Steph answered without missing a beat, the young Green Lantern hoping and praying that her big brother wouldn't wait for her to go on and silently cursing him when he didn't. "You know, we never did get a real answer to whether or not your little demon buddy is trying to moonlight on us," she added in a manner so serious that it almost concerned her as much as Lloyd. "Still, I guess I should thank him for helping you helping me get rid of that bastard."

"What are you goin' on about?" Lloyd almost spat back, the lack of snark from Stephanie unconsciously convincing him that he needed to overcompensate.

Steph finally broke into the sarcastic game with an indignant huff. "Y'know, when you dug into that asshole's head with your telepathy," she elaborated, the tired vigilante not sounding as annoyed as she thought she should have been. She took a moment to brace herself for the inevitable cocksure response and finally broke away from her focused gaze upon not receiving it. "What?"

"It wasn't me," Lloyd quietly replied, the admission leaving yet another unwanted and unanswered question at their feet. "The only thing I can really tell you is that you came to my rescue, little sis. Just wanted to thank you for that is all."

Stephanie didn't hold in her smile as her eyes met Lloyd's. "Ah, don't get all blubbery on me," she sniped back desperately. "I mean, hey, this just means that I owe you about five and, well, look who's counting? Besides, I've gotta have somebody that I'm pretty certain I can trust around me 'cause when The Martian fuckin' Manhunter decides to switch sides. . ."

"It wasn't him," Lloyd broke in, his voice calm, certain, and a fine contrast for the exaggerated squawking that Stephanie came with in response.

"Wait a minute! Then what about the whole Martian vision and the ghostie thing and the. . ." The gears were starting to turn in Stephanie's mind and even his lingering fatigue wasn't enough to trick Lloyd into thinking that he should do anything to stop it. "His brother!"

"Got it in one, Tweety," Lloyd smartly answered, his gaze returning to the setting sun. "He had me fooled too until that whole spiel about bein' denied. Still, I can't imagine that Neron needed to put a lot of effort into preparing that dish. Take one cup of vengeful brother denied the opportunity to bring an end the family that denied him what he wanted, add a teaspoon of memories and a quart of a promise to free him from his eternal punishment. . ."

"Mix, stir, and arrange in a familiar layer and, viola, you have our least favorite Martian trying to kill us all," Stephanie finished, the shared conclusion bringing the two vigilantes to share approved nods of confirmation. "And now he's been baked at a couple thousand degrees thanks to that Markov lady and that's yet another thing that we don't know near enough about and there's no telling what else Neron has up his sleeve and there's the whole thing with your demon taking a powder whenever he seems to feel like it _and _there's the whole thing with Bru. . . OWWWWWW! Why are you hitting me! I was being useful!"

"You were being depressing," Lloyd countered, the half-demon laughing as Stephanie countered his smack to the back of the head with one of her own before following up by sticking out her tongue in a thankfully childish manner. "I mean, if I can't come to you for cheery optimism and fruity, philosophical speeches then what am I supposed to do with myself, I ask you?"

Robin let out a fully-fledged growl while placing her hands on her lips. "So I'm just your on-demand cheerleader, am I?"

"You're the one person in this world I know I can trust. An' if there's one thing that I can take from this whole mess is that I should try a little harder to show the rest of the world what they're missing by not knowing you."

That finally managed to shut Stephanie up, this time in a good way. Of course, it simply wouldn't be her without having a potentially awkward social retort so the fair-haired Gothamite leaned in close to give Lloyd a kiss on the cheek before making a play to grab Lloyd's extended hand. "So I'm supposed to be a grand hero, am I? The one, enduring light with the power to oppose the pure ambitions of Neron and his ilk," she declared, the crossing of her eyes and the snort of laughter that followed her erudite explanation putting quite a damper on the gravitas of her supposed role.

"I should bloody well hope not," Lloyd retorted, the half-demon's past kindnesses paying dividends when he was allowed to snipe away without fear of retribution. "But, if you do happen to be this planet's greatest hope somewhere down the line, please let me know ahead of time so Kara and I can get on the next flight to Thangaar."

Robin merely rolled her eyes as Lloyd rubbed her back, the former street brat and runaway making certain that her brother's fingers couldn't accidentally bump against her bruises. "So are you ready for whatever there is to come, big brother?"

"Well, I don't see why I shouldn't be, little sister," Lloyd replied confidently, his right arm inching upward until it could wrap around Stephanie's neck. "I've got a big sister willing to lay her life on the line for me, the best little sister an only child could 'ave. . . OI! Stop strugglin' there!" he spat out before Stephanie finally broke away from his headlock and fired back with a slug to the shoulder. "Ruddy little bitch!" he then squawked out while rubbing the attacked area.

"Yeah, that's right!" Stephanie trumpeted back while bouncing on the balls of her feet. "There ain't nothing anybody can do to breaka my stride," she continued to crow before finally coming back to a stop and allowing Lloyd to wrap her in a tight hug. "Whatever's coming, we can face it."

"Damn right we can," Lloyd replied, the first two volunteers of Batman's motley crew turning together to face the coming evening.

* * *

_October 29__th__ – The Batcave – 5:02 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Breaking news out of Star City today," began Summer Gleason, the head broadcaster of Gotham's leading news network looking relaxed and comfortable as ever in her usual post, "The Associated Press has received an anonymous video recording depicting new footage from the disaster that claimed the lives of over 10,000 people within the still-recovering western metropolis. We cannot reveal the content of the recording due to its graphic nature but it has been confirmed that the tape presents the brutal slaying of Arthur Light, the man long-suspected to have been the most direct perpetrator of the terrorist action, by the Gotham-based vigilante known as The Batman. Federal law authorities were quick to respond to this development as former Secretary of Defense Amanda Waller stated that the F.B.I. would launch a full-scale investigation to further uncover the mysteries behind this unexpected development with particular attention being paid to a potential connection between the tragedy of Star City and a rising wave of vigilante justice."

Noah Kuttler could only stare numbly at the screen as Summer Gleason merely cleared her throat before continuing on.

"Representatives of The Justice League of America could not be reached for comment."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, it had to happen sooner or later, didn't it?

I mean, my god, this took a lot of effort although I'm fairly certain that it doesn't look the part since this is my second write-up of this and I probably skimmed through the editing process a little too quickly. That being said, I hope everyone enjoyed the issue and what the part of this story that has been told so far. I can definitely admit that the idea of my writing 100 chapters of this was only a flicker of a possibility when I got started with this and I never thought that so much of the last four years would be made better by the love and effort I put into it to make it happen.

Of course, there's no real way that even my egotistical self could take full credit for this big hunk of words. The 800 reviews and nearly 240,000 hits this story has received played a big part of it and, as you all know by now, I am an attention whore. A big heaving helping of thanks to all those that have read and reviewed all this way including Ryan Durham, Rachel Goetz, Shawn Watson, Leigh Teetzel, AZ-Woodbomb, DC Luder, that anonymous person that consistently leaves me nice reviews but with no way of being able to reply, and everybody before and in between. This may be my story but it's you guys that convince me to keep on telling it.

All right, enough with the sappy stuff. Next issue preview, go!

* * *

_Issue #101 Preview_

Well, the shit has officially hit the fan as the secret of The Misfits is finally uncovered for the entire world to see. How will those who have been most harmed by the secrecy react to the news? What will they do about it? How will the sins of the past finally catch up on a certain hacker in particular and shouldn't we be worried about that whole rising up of hell thing? Hold onto your literal and metaphorical hats as _Trial of Fire and Flames_ begins with the next installment of The Misfits: Sometimes Waiting Isn't the Hardest Part. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!

P.S. 100 CHAPTERS, BITCHES!


	101. Sometimes Waiting Isn't the Hardest Part

Issue #101

Sometimes Waiting Isn't the Hardest Part

_October 29th – The Batcave – 09:25 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Only a scant amount of attention was meted out to the circular ray of energy that drifted down to a five-foot-by-five-foot spot on the short passageway linking the cave's central computer hub and the vehicle hanger. The cold, blue glow served as the first point of entrance as Nightwing returned to his childhood home, the de facto detective of The Justice League finding himself thankfully unsurprised by the lack of reception as he casually rolled his sore left wrist by holding it with his right and twisting the open hand around. Each and every small _pop _that emanated from his stiff joints left him one step closer towards the next task at hand, the mostly harmless grinding of bone against muscle serving as a way for Grayson to keep time as he ventured towards the trio of Cray supercomputers at the center of the expansive catacombs. Only one of his former comrades was in sight, the sight providing proof of his next hypotheses, and even that fellow didn't even bother to turn away from his work to greet him, the complete lack of social graces making Dick Grayson wonder if the manor above simply imbued its residents with a lack of amiability.

"Hello, Richard," Noah Kuttler greeted, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in front of him like an expert pianist performing an absurdly complicated bridge. "I imagine that the recent public revelations made for quite the eventful work day."

Nightwing let out a sigh as he came to a stop on The Calculator's left, the former child acrobat finding himself somewhat cautious to approach despite having long grown comfortable around the former villain. "Awfully fancy way of pointing out that all hell's broke loose, C.C.," he crankily replied, the sight of the algorithms and communication-related formulae dominating the trio of monitors in front of him only worsening his mood. "I asked Victor Stone if he could get in touch with the Justice League satellites to try and suss more of this out in my stead since, hey, I'm probably about a couple hours away from league probation as it is. Not sure if they will know something that we don't but the only thing you can do is to _OOOOOOF!"_

Kuttler held back the urge to clean his spectacles as Dick's assailant trapped the usually elusive vigilante within a tight bear hug. The childish cheering and the blatantly employed profanity that followed drew even less interest and only slightly more amusement from the computer expert but it did prove to be enough to turn him away from his work in order to observe the developing scene.

"Damn it, do you always have to be this embarrassing?" Nightwing asked as he continued to be swung about, the herky-jerky movements starting to reignite the nausea he felt from shuffling through The Watchtower's transmat systems.

"Of course I do!" Stephanie merrily replied while clutching at her lifesize-Nightwing ragdoll. "I mean, there's no guarantees that I'm going to humiliate you again with our average life expectancies! I say seize the day. . . or seize the brooding hottie."

Dick couldn't help but see a bizarre bit of logic in that as he was finally let down, his right hand quickly rising to sweep his hair back to its tousled faultlessness.

"Any new news?"

The former Robin shook his head back to and fro in response to the current Robin's question. "Looks like the big guns are still mulling the matter over until Hal can make his way back from Oa. Still, you don't have to be a psychic to figure out that something big's about to go down."

"Yeah, leave it to Wonder Bread and Wonder Bra to pick the worst possible time to start putting two and two together," Stephanie grumbled in a decidedly unapologetic matter. "Don't suppose that I can just go to the nearest Home Depot and buy some Kryptonite and about 20 yards of rope, do ya?"

"Green Arrow too," Nightwing quickly broke back in, the interruption managing to bring a quick stop to Robin's posturing. "In fact, judging from the shouting I was able to listen to before being shuffled away, it seems like the good Oliver Queen is pretty eager to be a part of our day in court."

The news prompted Noah to scan Nightwing's troubled countenance for nearly a full second before finally seeing the value of returning to his duties. Stephanie, on the other hand, chose to respond with a stunned expression that left her mouth hanging open much like that of a dead fish. "But. . . what. . . OKAY! Does that guy even remember that we saved his merry man ass when he followed The Key here to Gotham?"

"Ollie gets saved by everybody," Nightwing pointed out with what he hoped to be surprisingly even-tempered, his response summoning an aggravated groan from the more melodramatic half of his audience. "And it's not like it wouldn't take much to convince you to try to pass the buck if your home had gone through as much as Star City has lately."

"Oh, is that right?" Stephanie asked indignantly. "Well, then I'll have to remind me to void the last relief check I sent there so I can get blamed properly," the heart-shaped face of the understandably irritated Green Lantern scrunched up and intensified as its own leaned close to Dick's noncommittal façade. "And just whose side are you on in all of this?"

Quite a bit of the wind seemed to be sucked out of the air in the midst of the pointed accusation. "Excuse me?" Nightwing snapped back, the contours of his domino mask tightening as he narrowed his eyes. "Just who the hell do you think has been the one to keep you guys out of the press for this long anyway. . ." The knowing chuckle that seeped through the lips of his audience quickly clammed rendered him silent and his furrowed brows to smooth out once again. "Very funny, sprout," he begrudgingly added as Robin gave him a toothy smile. "Guess I'm a little on edge lately and comin' back here at a time like this doesn't exactly help with paranoia."

"Well, I guess it's only natural," Stephanie confessed, her lower lip curling and extending out in response to the feel of Nightwing's calloused right hand ruffling through her blonde hair. "I mean, if I spent the last few months secretly boning the mother of a sword-swinging, overly possessive half-demon then I'm guessing the last place I'd want to turn up at is the place where the guy lives!" The sight of Dick's hastily ashen face followed by the reception of a stern glare seemed to do a great deal to brighten the Green Lantern's spirits. "Oh, you're still not ready to talk about that, are ya?"

"You know, I really wish you weren't so chatty when you were scared," Nightwing noted after finally doing away with a heavy sigh.

"This coming from the undisputed bad pun king of Gotham City," Stephanie shot back with a snort of her own, her brief scan of the stone beneath her feet leaving just enough room to be surprised as a door to her left swung open and a fuming Cecilia King-Jones emerged. Scanning her friend's stormy countenance, the current Gotham-based Robin found it fairly difficult to read Cecilia's eyes, particularly since they were metaphorically glued to a small stack of tightly held papers that almost looked ready to tear at the intensity of the girl's grip. As fretful as that could have been, however, the last several weeks had given Robin the chance to put a great deal of this puzzle together and managed to have the solution well in hand by the time Batman's patrol partner slung the papers onto a nearby file cabinet before slamming herself down into her usual computer chair.

"I'm guessing the test results came back."

Cecilia snapped out of her reveries to give Stephanie an aggravated glare, the tip of the archer's tongue poking from her tightened lips as she worked to fence in the first response that came to mind.

"The fourth of analogous results, I'm afraid," The Calculator supplied in Arrowette's stead, the hacker still keeping his eyes focused on the screen. "I'm afraid that there is now precious little doubt to be found in regards to the veracity of the blood work although I still believe another examination would be wise, if only to properly observe Bruce's reaction towards being told that his deduction was still under question," he added with a wry smile, the attempt at humor causing him to instantly lose whatever good will he had recently established with the expert markswoman.

"Huh. Well, don't that beat all," Nightwing noted, the unrehearsed usage of a familiar phrase earning him a sharp growl from his father's current understudy. "Okay. I'm confused. So I shouldn't be congratulating you for this?" he asked with an honest mixture of concern and confusion. "I mean, I know that this is a pretty big deal but there's definitely worse news to be given. . ."

"I _know _it's a big deal," Cecilia wearily replied, the confession seemingly forcing her to slump down until her chin met her chest. "And I know that this could have taken a whole lot longer to figure out but. . . I'm going with numb annoyance now and I'd like you to respect that."

Dick and Stephanie shared a look that went on to be voluntarily ignored by the other two human occupants of the caverns beneath Wayne Manor, the silent trade of information and confirmation passing in front of their eyes a portion of a connection that had been established even before the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns had traded in her eggplant cape and charcoal cowl. "Fair enough," Nightwing then said for the both of them, his words quick and sure as he and Robin switched to a more relevant matter of concern. "So how about you guys? Do we have anything more on where this data link came from?"

The questions were obviously aimed at a single person and the bespectacled receiver accepted it with his usual dry preparedness. "Well, it was quite easy to piggyback on the AP public servers in order to locate the original source of transmission," Noah explained, his fingers traipsing through the motions as the computer wonk brought up the information that his newest guest would want to see. "The file was originally sent as an attachment from a dummy e-mail account developed within the databanks of the campus library at The University of Illinois. Of course, the account has since been seized by Waller's data hounds before being delivered to The Justice League and anyone else who would wish to peruse it and had the obscene amount of authority needed to do so."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Nightwing couldn't help but observe.

The Calculator's hasty polishing of his glasses confirmed the detective's suspicions. "There's nothing there to find. The data transmission itself was placed on a time-release upload command that had been established well before the information was actually sent. And, given the university's understandably open status in regards to allowing the public to have access to the Internet, it would be nearly impossible to determine when the command was constructed or even where it had been sent from."

Dick took a moment to mull the point over, his ability to recognize a pointless trail when he saw it bringing him to tense up his fists in frustration. The realization that came with it drudged up a murky pile of regrets and guesses he had hoped would stay buried, three-year-old speculations that had taken root well before then and continued to stir from the moment he came back to Wayne Manor after a six-month absence until they were able to drink in the blood of a murdering monster and bring themselves to grow into what they were now.

Of course he had thought of what would happen if or when this day came along. Which one of them hadn't?

"Okay, I understood maybe about a half of that!" Stephanie bellowed through the contemplative silence, her enthusiastic annoyance drawing every eye in the room. "Can somebody just tell me what the hell we're supposed to do now?"

* * *

_October 29th – Gotham Herald Main Office - 4th Floor – 10:37 P.M._

Linda took a moment to observe the litany of words on her screen as they began to blur and divide like living creatures, the distorted figures the outcome of allowing her eyes to skew out of focus after eight nearly uninterrupted hours of cobbling together her weekly work. Having long been encouraged to do today what you could be doing tomorrow, she had come into her rarely used cubicle with a determined vengeance to succeed in her self-assigned duties and tore into the matters on her mind with a well-practiced fury. She had managed to put herself on quite a roll by the time the phone call came, her third article having just come into focus before Noah's news left her sitting dumbly at her chair. Of course, her father hadn't worked three jobs so he could pay her way to Cal-Berkeley just so she could have the privilege to sit on her ass (and if she didn't know that already then all it would have taken was a phone call and some tactful comments to be reminded of it) and it wasn't long before the young mother was working away once again, the _tap tap tap _of the keyboard providing a desperately necessary distraction.

_Taptaptaptaptiptaptiptap. Click. Taptaptaptaptip. . ._

They had spent so long building up the life they had now. Sure, it wasn't something out of Rockwell painting but, damn it, Wally was happy. Her kids were as safe as they could have been while still being able to see the outside world.

_Taptaptiptaptaptap_.

And they didn't know the full extent of what they had gotten into before they had already jumped in. How was this their fault? How wasn't it her fault for not seeing it sooner? For not being better prepared

_Taptaptop_.

Maybe Wally was right. Maybe they should have stayed in The Speed Force. Maybe they should have taken Jay's offer. _'._

"Well, well. I'm not really sure if I should be encouraged or worried about you pulling such a late night, West."

She could barely contain her surprised jolt as she noticed that someone had stepped into the border between her cubicle and the world outside. She offered a kindly smile back to Jim Minter, the paper's editor-in-chief, and found herself letting out a sigh of relief as the old news hand responded with a slight but kind smile. The man's tough skin had been leathered by hours in the blistering sun chasing stories or taking up afternoon jogs on The East End and his tone could have been considered critical or unfavorable in many perspectives but Linda had seen enough of the world to know that it was little more than a verbal nudge, a silent hint of permission for Linda to unload whatever was on her mind.

"Just wanting to stay ahead of the game, boss," Linda offered up, an unspoken certainty forcing her to avoid the kindly offering. "The kids are going to have their checkups on Wednesday so I just wanted to make certain I had all my ducks in a row in case something goes screwy."

"Well, I suppose that's fair enough," Jim replied, the soft tilt of his gray-green eyes serving as a slight tell that he had gotten something from the distracted reply. "Just wanted to tell you that you had a visitor and, figuring her stature, I thought it might be a good idea to present her to you myself before she snuck up here and surprised you."

The smooth, familiar chuckle that came back in response sent Linda's already frayed nerves onto an even steeper edge. It didn't even matter that she knew it was coming or that she had tried and failed to plan this occasion out but just looking at those seemingly all-knowing eyes was enough to nearly throw every plan out the window.

"Well, that's quite an accusation coming from the competition," the observant newcomer replied, the investigator's decorum allowing her to easily maintain her cool even when her prey was easily within sight. "That being said, my dog-eared copy of _Behind the Writer's Chair _is just too much to keep me from saying that it's an honor to meet you, Mister Minter."

"Oh, that old thing," the old man replied, the reference of his book by a worldwide celebrity almost enough to bring a flush to the newsman's cheeks. "Well, the fact remains that I'm a big fan of your work, Miss Lane."

"Well, then you've got my word that you'll have first crack at anything that comes out of this, chief," Lois Lane said while bowing her head, the gesture of respect enough to convince the salt-and-pepper-haired newsman to take his leave. Of course, that left Linda to feel the full brunt of the enterprising gaze behind the ace reporter's indigo eyes, the damning proof that there was no further escape seizing the columnist in a stifling grip. "Relax, Linda," the Metropolis native then added in a placating tone that made a dark part of the young mother want to slap the taste out of her contemporary's mouth. "I'm just here to see how you're doing."

"How do you think I'm doing?" Linda snapped back, the sum total of a full workday of anger and tension being let out in a manner that she didn't find the least bit wise. "And don't start telling me that you're here for my best interests. In fact, if you just made your way here to get the edge on a story then just feel free to leave before I call security."

"All right, that's enough." There was little denying a forceful tone that could stop the tracks of everyone from presidents to government heads to The Man of Steel himself and the fuming young mother found herself subdued as well in the wake of Lois's unwavering candor. "Now I could have run with what I had on the day that Kara rescued Clark and brought your little part of that house of cards tumbling down but I didn't. So, as understandably stressed out as you are, I think I deserve just a little bit of the soft touch here."

The distressing reality that flooded Linda's thoughts as she took in her former colleague's sensible demand was almost enough to break her, the urge to let out a ragged sob just barely cut off with her mother's past reminders that it wouldn't be proper to behave in such a manner. Unfortunately, the restraint that was needed to fight that off brought a cold, prickling sensation that started in her gut and rose into her arms and shoulders that almost tempted her into sneezing but all that came out was a sniffle. Linda wanted to be strong, so very strong for her family, for Wally, for herself that it almost sent her to shaking.

"Why does everything have to be like this? All the time?"

Lois handled the weighty inquiry with a shrug of her shoulders. "Because that's life," she calmly countered, her slender arms crossing over the trim tip of her torso as she took the weighty observation in. "A space of time jam packed with potentially bad decisions. It's why my husband just ran off to his little Fortress of Solitude when I asked him if he wanted to talk about this and why your husband is probably off doing something he shouldn't with Grayson or Harper or whoever he's hanging out with these days. It's why Bruce is probably off somewhere brooding and thinking up a master plan instead of just speaking with the League directly and why I'm here talking to you instead of writing a story that would earn me another Pulitzer."

Linda briefly raised her tired fingers to look them over before bringing them to sweep across her temples before finally splaying her hands out over her desk. "I wasn't asking for the world, Lois," she said almost pitifully, the involuntary tone frustrating her just a little bit more. "I wanted my children to be happy. I wanted my husband to have a life he'd want to live. I wanted to have a life I could be content with!"

"And I want a husband who can actually operate a coffee maker without setting our apartment on fire. Or not fly away at the speed of light when something finally manages to get through his defenses," Lois broke in, a smidgen of a critical air locked firmly within her retort. "Still, that's just the burden we bear for being who we wanted to be. We could've gotten together with lawyers or doctors or garbagemen or politicians but instead we chose to match up our lives with a pair of goddamn superheroes. Pretty damn noticeable superheroes too, quite frankly, and whyyyyyy?"

"Because I loved Wally!" Linda shouted back, the frustration she felt at having to point out something so ridiculously obvious almost making her strain just too much to bea. "I'll always love him and I love our children and I love the life we have together. . ."

"And you love the attention," Lois butted in once again, her hands lowering to wrap around her hips. "You love all the little fringe benefits that come along with being the wife of The Fastest Man Alive. . . just like he loves all the things that come along with being with someone who truly wants to understand what he's going through, both good and bad." The disgusted groan that spilled from Linda's downcast countenance gave the enterprising reporter a reason to pull out a victorious smirk. "Don't think you're any better or that much different than any other couple just because your man can deliver roses from Holland in five seconds flat."

It was almost a wonder that the young mother had managed to survive this bizarre series of philosophical tangents for this long so it wasn't that much of a surprise when the Korean-American finally threw her hands up in the air in abject surrender. "Okay, what the hell is this supposed to be? Is this a pep talk? Some helpful words of wisdom? Some attempt at blackmail or what because my brain is far too fried to try and figure this cryptic shit out right now, Lane."

Lois quirked her lips to one side as she calmly pondered the possibilities. "Well, I'm notoriously bad with pep talks, I've already got my bills paid for the month and you living in Wayne Manor probably leaves you with more than enough words of wisdom." The elder journalist wasted little time with registering the wide-eyed expression on her counterpart's face before continuing on. "I was just thinking that, seeing as how all this has been dumped on your adopted doorstep, you might want to ask a certain question to somebody in my shoes?"

Linda allowed some time to shut her eyes and take a deep, deep breath.

"All right. Fine. So why didn't you blow the whistle on us after Kara went to Metropolis?"

Just as her exhausted colleague had needed a moment to recollect herself, Lois chose to be considerate enough and offered a few seconds of silence in order to set the table. "Because this world isn't just about the things that people like us write about in the newspapers. It's deep and it's messy and it's beautiful and I've been in this game long enough to realize that even some of the sick things in life are worth fighting for. . . even if they don't appeal to the Boy Scout in us."

The hint of vulnerability that poked free from Lois's otherwise steely conviction was enough to give Linda a little bit of guilty confidence. "A military brat through and through, huh?"

The eldest daughter of General Sam Lane cinched her teeth in admission. "The needs of the many, I'm afraid. . . and there's not enough front page stories I can write to get that out of my head."

Linda offered herself a low chuckle. "Clark didn't just run off the moment he heard the news, did he?" she asked with a cautious raise of her eyebrows.

The prim smile Lois offered back was answer enough but the reporter decided to take things one step further. "Of course not. And, seeing as how I'm going to be defending you guys in any forum I can find if this goes all the way public, I think it's only fair that you bring me to your landlord as quickly as possible so we can start talking shop."

The incredulity of it all finally tore a genuine laugh from Linda despite not really even having a decent reason to do so. "How does someone like you even _exist_?"

Lois wisely employed the time she had to answer the question thrown at her by swooping to her left and grabbing Linda's purse, the strap of the modest, black handbag digging softly into her shoulder blade as she moved to hold it into place. Perhaps most of us would have considered it to be quite the calculated risk to then move and walk out while expecting her colleague to follow but the annoyed groan and the sound of footsteps behind her quickly revealed that the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter had found the right trail once again.

"I've come to think of myself as a product of careless preparation."

* * *

Ishmael Gregor disapproved of the way the space around him seemed to bend to his very thoughts, the lack of consistency in his usually Spartan dwellings providing a dismal reflection of how he wanted to see himself during these turbulent times. Some would have considered him spoiled but the man behind Sabbac merely took his concerns from being a product of the Russian mafia, a landscape where success was often determined not just on the diligence you brought into getting to where you are but also with the effort you put into staying there. He may have considered himself above the petty thugs and pointless power players he had stomped over on the road to his ascendance but even his stolen godhood wasn't enough to keep him from the power of the lessons learned, the idea that he should earn what he was given.

The blade he had subconsciously summoned to his side provided further proof of the veracity behind his belief, the dull glow of The Bane of Velius shining a firm light on one of the few pleasant memories he had garnered since his unexpected demise at the hands of The Black Dog. He had spent days on end upon the blood-soaked battlefield, his demonic flesh curling from the ungodly cold while his very bones quivered in exhaustion as he was challenged by one fellow monster after the other, each of them denizens of hell that endeavored to earn the unique gift that Neron had offered. Every broken bone he had suffered and every drop of black blood he had bestowed upon the fields of Erebus forced him to summon another memory to keep him going, the recollections of how he had overcome each and every obstacle thrown his way in his existence spurring him forward through victory after victory until he was the last monster standing.

Neron had given him this blade with the promise that he would employ it to exact vengeance on the half-demon that brought his promising existence to its iniquitous end. Just as he had labored for months to set up the dark turn of events that would ultimately allow him to bring the powers of Satan, Aym, Belial, Beelzebub, Asmodeus and Crateis under his sway so he would wait patiently for his chance to claim his revenge. Still, while the battles with the two women the boy held most dear was enough to satiate him for a time, the shifting landscape around him still managed to scrape at his endurance _Patience, Ishmael_, he grumbled to himself as the dead space around him transformed into the same, simple dwellings he had been forced into as a 10-year-old surviving on the streets of Novgorod. _Your fortitude shall glean its rewards, just as it always has._

"Just keep telling yourself that," broke in a mocking purr that snapped Sabbac out of his motivations, his tawny eyes glimmering in frustration as he witnessed the landscape around him shift into an island paradise, the white sands and cawing of the gulls quickly scraping at his eyes and ears. "You know, you can make someone wonder if all puppets are this eager to get off of their strings."

The knowing grin on the face of the unwanted presence was enough to motivate Gregor into maintaining order, his own powerful mind allowing him to twist the space around him until a sizeable majority of it had come to resemble one of his old safehouses in Rostov, the blackened stone painting a strong contrast with the palm trees that stood nearly ten feet away.

"I trust that you've gotten your share of amusement from your work above, witch," Sabbac grumbled while turning his back to the unwanted guest.

Circe's smirk remained firm, the lack of direct attention hardly enough to dissuade the immortal enchantress from her present satisfaction. "Well, I simply have no idea what you are referring to, kind sir," she replied, her long fingers casually sifting through her indigo-black hair as she made her way forward. "I just thought I would make my way down to these fetid depths to congratulate you on _your_ efforts. After all, it's not as if it was a small feat to regain your touch with the people who could supply the information that would convince our enemies to fight amongst themselves."

The half-accusation, half-compliment proved to be enough to draw Sabbac's full attention, the urge to raze the bitch's bones momentarily stifled by his own curiousity. "You know I'm not responsible for uncovering Wayne's deeds to the world. I wished to eliminate our foes on a fair battlefield, not one plagued by such unnecessary distractions," he softly barked, his scarlet, red forehead creasing tightly. "You're saying that you're not accountable for this either?"

Circe's dismissal was so baldly capricious that it had to be true. "I'm afraid not, o noble executioner," she said, the sardonic candor causing a hint of hell fire to unwillingly escape from Sabbac's fingertips. "Although I imagine that your Lord Neron will not hesitate for a moment to take credit for someone else's hard work."

Sabbac snarled as he wrapped his massive right hand around the hilt of The Bane of Velius, his muscular arms swinging to his left until the tip of the mystic weapon was pointed straight at the soft tissue between Circe's chin and throat. "Choose your words quickly, woman. Unless you're planning on offering up your body then I simply have no use for you."

Now it was Circe's turn to shovel over a quick flare of anger as she stepped into Gregor's austere part of the world. "Enough with the phallic threatening, Ishmael. After all, not all of us Greek deities had a history of becoming too fond with the local wildlife." The pointed retort earned her the desired spark of anger she wanted from her quarry and she continued to work her way through with that advantage in mind. "Surely you've come to recognize that you've chosen to back the wrong horse in this affair and, that being said, I'm here to offer you an alternative to your noble but pointless waiting game."

Sabbac responded with a derisive snort while easily sliding away from the allure of Circe's prying fingertips. "Perhaps you haven't noticed that you also own a great deal to our employer's labors," he dangerously replied. "The both of us would still be serving our castigations if not for his assistance so perhaps you should be quick in explaining to me why I would choose to support whatever you have to offer." There was a flicker of annoyance in the witch's face and Gregor wasn't quite quick enough to determine whether it was genuine or just another power play but the sight of it still made him grin before adding, "if only so that I may report you to our lord that much quicker."

A slow smile crept onto Circe's impossibly elegant façade, the simple maneuver something that had long proven enough to enrapture countless poor fools and noble intellects alike. "Because I can offer you something that can be given to you whether our mutual benefactor succeeds or fails," she replied with a slow, tempting drone. "I can give you the reward of returning to the land of the living without being shackled to another demon's whims and ambitions." The witch brought her fingers so close to Gregor's bare chest that her fingertips began to sizzle. "How loud are the demands of the beasts confined within you, Ishmael? How much must you suffer the horrors wrought by the penalties bequeathed upon you simply because a pitiable fool wishes to use you as just another pawn?"

Gregor needed only a half-second to mull that weighty manner before his loyalties brought the tip of The Bane of Velius to dig ever so slightly into the bit of skin that covered Circe's left eyebrow.

"I thought I told you to speak quickly, you Spartan slag."

Circe's smile was languid and predatory. "Very well," she considered. "If you were going to trust somebody to get you out of the nether dimensions then why wouldn't you ask for somebody who already knew how to do it?"

* * *

_October 29__th__ – Wayne Manor – 11:02 Eastern Standard Time_

"Shit."

The hum of agreement that rose from Wally's right wasn't quite enough to encourage him to continue on, his lounging against one of the recliners kept on the rarely used day room on the eastern wing hardly helping with his difficulties.

"You know, it just occurred to me that I wouldn't be dealing with this right now if it wasn't for you and Richie."

Wally didn't even bother to turn and properly show his disdain. "Yes, because what we need right now is another opportunity for Roy Harper to play the blame game for his life's fuck-ups."

"I didn't fuck up this time!" Roy snapped back, the sharpshooter finding himself surprised that he could sound so annoyed. "And you're getting me off the topic, ya bastard! I still say I wouldn't have come to Gotham if it wasn't for Nightthing and I wouldn't have stayed behind if I didn't have to make sure that Linda wouldn't kill you just to get your silly ass out of her hair." The grumble that Wally provided in response might have been enough to convince most people to choose another conversational track but it only encouraged Roy to keep wandering. "Now we're gonna have all the Cub Scouts you used to follow around like a fawning fanboy on our asses just right after I got Lian into a good school and I got into a place where there's plenty of good booze and good company and what are you gonna do about that?"

Wally couldn't help but cross his eyes as he thought it over. "There was a topic?" he finally asked, the confused question drawing sniggers from Roy before forcing him into laughter. "See? Because I could believe that there was some topical talking if you were Dick or Kyle or Lloyd. You though? Shiiiiit."

"Fuck you," Roy cheerfully fired back before letting out a deep breath, the younger of the two former Teen Titans swinging the lower half of his left leg back and forth off the edge of his own chair. "So do you miss it, man? Bein' one of The Magnificent Seven? Bein' a judge and jury but never the executioner of all the imperfect souls you're now forced to dwell among?"

"I miss J'onn," Wally softly replied, the pointed accusation flying straight over his head to join the dozen or so topics and accusations that have died beforehand. "He'd already know how to handle all of this. He'd just. . . say some words in the middle of that big boardroom that Clark would sympathize with and Diana would understand and. . . " The gravity of it was enough to coerce Wally into slumping his head downward in dismay. "I can't do that, man. I can't do this."

Roy responded with a lazy smile as he stretched forward to pat his old friend on the back. "Well, here ya go. Maybe this will drum up the brain cells," he considered in quite the hypocritical manner as he handed off the half-finished joint the two of them had been sharing for the past half-hour, the slight haze of bluish-gray smoke still wafting slightly above their heads. "I mean, stranger things have happened. For example, I would've sworn that you'd already be talking about Barry by now."

Wally still refused to encourage Roy by paying him his full attention s he devoted his sights to the smoldering cigarette as if it were some entity from another world before taking it to his lips. It wasn't long before he let out a ragged cough that coerced another burst of laughter from his more experience friend and he finally brought the foul thing to rest on the ashtray between them. "I know where Barry is, man. I mean, I can just go down to Keystone and I'd have all I need to go and see if he's safe. Ask him what he thinks about all this, y'know?"

"Trippy," Roy countered, the response earning him a rather vulgar gesture as the sharpshooter moved to snatch back his illegally gotten gains. "So what you're telling me is that this isn't just about your usual whining. This is also you worrying about whether or not our solemn green large creature is in a good place."

Wally looked on lazily while watching Roy blow out a perfect series of smoke rings before puffing out a thin arrow that cut through the gray haloes just before they finally faded away. It was a well-known secret that his friend had become a master of the positively worthless party trick. If a villain was ever attacking a city and the only way to stop them was by burping out the alphabet or taking the cap off of a beer bottle with your thumbnail or twisting the stem of a cherry into a knot with just your tongue then Arsenal was your man to turn too. Of course, a certain raven-haired Amazon/Teen Titan/Titan of Myth would frequently point out that none of these abilities appeared to lead to establishing any marketable job skills but such honest criticisms would only just lead to Roy performing the Themysciran anthem with his armpits until Donna ultimately gave up the argument.

"And just _what _makes you think that you're a good father?"

Roy responded to the inevitability with a weary groan that significantly harshed whatever little buzz the expertly-rolled doobage had provided him. "Anybody ever tell you that you've got a one-track mind? I mean, I'm trying to tell you my brilliant theory about J'onn here. Now do you want to hear it or not?"

"Of course I don't."

"Too damn bad!" Roy crowed back. "Now, all right, I know I may have not known J'onn as much as you have but, from what you told me, the one thing he wanted the most was to be with his wife and family, right? Not fighting the good fight or making the world better or working on getting that genuine golf swing."

"Yeah," Wally cautiously answered, his memories of his old friend's recollections threatening to bring up some dangerous thoughts. "Against every bit of my judgment, I'm hoping that there's a point to this. I mean, Stephanie was saved by a telepath in the middle of Hell and it's only natural to jump to the conclusion that. . ."

"What? That J'onn's somewhere he shouldn't be?" Roy didn't even bother to try and be crude. "Well, if that was all true then what sense does it make to believe that he'd be wandering around in that little armpit of Hell?" The marksman gave the joint one final, ciritcal look before stubbing it out, his work allowing his friend the time he needed to think about that, perhaps just enough to even offer up a counterargument. "Naw. If there's a better place than J'onn's in it, somewhere where he wouldn't give a damn about us anymore, and that's really all there is to say about it."

Another halfway-wanted hiatus broke out over the proceedings as Wally tried to find some peace in his friend's certainties, a lifetime of occasional ponderings over what awaited him and the people he loved working to get in the way of matching Roy's thoughts. It didn't take much more for him to drudge up one memory in particular, a decade-old recollection of J'onn talking to him after Barry had passed, the both of them looking down on the Earth from 10 miles up as they traded stories about the link between them. It was only three weeks later when Wally would take his uncle's place in the League but he never would have shown up if J'onn told him about everything that he had to do just so he could make it to The Watchtower. How much he had to shuffle to the side just so he could start the day.

"And, for your information, I don't consider myself to be a good dad or a bad dad," Roy added, the barely-remembered abandoned argument managing to jolt Wally back to attention. "I'm a dad who _tries_, just like you'll be when you stop worrying about how you may be scarring your children every time you leave the house." It was hardly the most reassuring answer but it seemed to be the only one that Arsenal was willing to provide and that prompted The Flash to let out a long-held sigh. "I mean, what the hell makes you think you're such hot, influential shit anyway?"

Wally finally couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Yeah, you're right," he finally confessed, the admission not being nearly as painful as he thought it would be. "I am indeed a flawed child."

"Damn right," Roy said brightly while hefting the upper half of his body upward so he could pluck the stubbed out joint and trap it between the middle and ring fingers of his left hand. "And I," he threw in just before stretching open his mouth and tossing the spent butt in, "am the master of my domain."

Now Wally couldn't keep from rolling his eyes in the face of his friend's disgusting work and the satisfied smirk that came from it, his irritation just enough to distract him from the sound of the day room door being swung open. The speedster's green eyes instinctively went wide as saucers as a familiar face poked its way inside, her pretty face quickly crinkling in annoyance and forcing him to wonder over how much trouble he was in.

"Oh, for Rao's sake, you two," Kara muttered, her strong nose more than able to take in the smell of smoke despite the absence of its original source. "Can't you just brood legally like the rest of us?"

"How about you just relax, Hermione," Roy replied as Kara quickly moved shut the door. "I mean, it's not like we dragged your boyfriend into this. Your efforts to turn our fearless leader into a Cub Scout remain intact."

"That. . . I'm not. . ." Kara's instinctual sputtering was enough to bring a smile to Roy's face and that naturally led the half-Kryptonian to let out a growl in the face of her weakness. "Now give me the one in your pocket before I tell on you."

Roy provided a slow, languid smile that the Cheshire Cat itself would be proud of. "Sure you don't want a hit first?"

There was little way for Oliver Queen's first partner to calculate the peevishness on Kara's otherwise appealing countenance as she stomped towards him, her right arm extending until she presented her palm to him. Recognizing the price of any further unruliness, he let loose with a melodramatic huff while digging into his pockets and yanking free the last of Big Smoke's joints and placing it in the clutches of the goody-too-shoes. "Thanks, Mom," he added as a quick flash of heat vision burned the roll to some untraceable scants of ash before being crushed in the half-Kryptonian's fist.

"You're welcome, Roy," Kara fired back without missing a beat, her slim legs quickly finding purchase on the unused portion of the gunman's recliner. "So exactly how are you going to block out the scent of this stuff in the five minutes we've got until the briefing starts?"

Roy remained calm in the face of the dilemma but his composure was a far cry from the utter panic attack that quickly sprung upon his fellow father. "Oh, son of a bitch," he heard Wally frantically sputter, a flurry of motion ruffling through his ears as The Flash sprung to his feet. "What are we gonna do? Why the hell didn't you keep track of the time, man?"

"Would you relax?" Roy beseeched his phenomenally frantic colleague, his simple request separated out in syllables the way a mother would speak to their overanxious child. He then rose to his feet, his absence allowing Kara to slink into the chair fully and become thoroughly disgusted by the smell that remained there. "Got the solution right here," he added while opening a drawer of a nearby writing table before pulling out a spray bottle of amber-colored liquid. "What we've got here is a sizeable supply of purified S_antalum ellipticum_," Arsenal explained in the same tone of a smarmy college professor as he began to spray a liberal dose in the air above him. "It's the same stuff that Interpol gives to snipers when they need to hide their scents."

"My second-hand tax dollars at work," Kara dully noted, the fair-haired heroine kind enough to leap off the chair so Roy could do his own unique form of damage control. "You guys are just lucky that it was me that came here and not. . . _EEP!" _The sharp warning died in Kara's throat as somebody else made their way into the surprisingly crowded day room, a presence that was decidedly more aged, British, and worthy of Roy's worries.

And, just as she expected, it didn't take long for Alfred Pennyworth to take in the scene and the three pairs of wide eyes that awaited him. "Sandalwood oil again, Master Harper?" the housekeeper noted aloud. "Has anyone ever taken the time to inform you that your stupidity could do with a bit of originality?"

Kara was making her way forward with a speed that even Wally would have a hard time matching. "Alfred, I swear to you that I had nothing to do with this! I. . . I just came in here and. . . and they were being bad and. . ."

A mere wave of his hand brought Krypton's most-powerful warrior to a quick and absolute silence. "At ease, Miss Kara. It isn't your sanity I'm worried about," he noted, his critical eyes providing a silent order for the three residents of his home to leave the room, the lot of them walking single file. "It isn't your virtue I'm concerned about," he added before rightfully cuffing the sheepish Roy Harper as he passed by. The caretaker looked on silently as the door swung shut and left him with the lingering mess, a situation he had grown quite familiar to over the course of four decades.

"Dumb sot," the former Interpol agent as he moved to clean up.

* * *

Wally was halfway tempted to ask why Kara suddenly looked so irritated as they made their way closer to the trademark grandfather clock but he couldn't manage to bring that persuasion into action before he was able to figure out the why on his own. The sound of familiarly argumentative tones was waiting for them below as they made their way down the stone steps, the two, young bulls of their bizarre family apparently having found a reason to butt heads once again. The whole sight of the argument made The Flash quite grateful thathe had never been one to aspire for leadership and the inevitable struggles for control that were often required to keep it.

He wasn't the argumentative type, after all. More the stand in the corner and snipe in a witty manner kind of fellow.

"You must have some soddin' set to be coming down here at a time like this. Especially after everything you've let go tits up!"

"This is been my home a hell of a lot longer than yours so I don't need your permission to come here whenever I damn well please!"

Whereas Dick Grayson and Lloyd Thomas had grown quite content with saying what was precisely on their minds, particularly if their minds were within a close proximity.

"In fact, let's just get away from the cheap, psychological rubbish for once and try and get to the root of the matter!" Nightwing suggested, his long arms stretched just enough to properly display his disrespect towards the young second-in-command while also allowing him to keep his hands close enough to defend himself properly. "This isn't about the release of that video! It's not even about you thinking that I'm trying to take your spot again! This is about you all pissed off about me being with Naomi!"

"Don't you bloody bring her into this!" The Black Dog barked back, his outraged tone presenting his poor efforts at deceit. "No, wait a minute. Changed my mind. This may be somethin'," he reconsidered while waggling his right ring finger against his temple. "You know, an' this is me just spitballing here, if you weren't puttin' so much effort in trying to find another life to ruin then perhaps you would have noticed this news footage coming down the pike and done a bit more to keep it under wraps."

"I was only doing what Bruce and Hal asked me to do. Something that you agreed to put into my hands!"

"Well, so we now see my biggest mistake throughout this whole affair."

Nightwing jabbed a finger straight at Lloyd to cease any further interruptions. "Trying to cover something like this up after it broke would have been almost impossible to accomplish and it would have cost billions of dollars and weeks of manpower just to even try to do so!"

"An' that's resources we've got!" Lloyd spat back, the shorter of the two debaters nearly coming nose-to-nose with Bruce Wayne's ward. "And your job was to help keep our operation under wraps, to let us keep doing what needs to be done while you lot got your pictures on the front page of the newspaper, not about what you were able to do in order to allow that to happen. In fact. . . when the hell did you get to make that kind of decision anyhow?"

"How about around the same time when it didn't matter what you thought about anything I do?"

Wally found himself caught up in the intensity of the argument but not enough to look on quietly as Kara stepped up towards the most entertained of the silent observers.

"Okay, exactly _why _isn't anyone trying to break this up?" the half-Kryptonian asked with an urgent whisper.

Robin managed to shatter the land-speed record for hypocrisy by looking at Kara Zor-el as if she were insane. "Are you kidding? This is the best entertainment I've had in weeks!" she mumbled back giddily, the Green Lantern rocking the balls of her feet back and forth on the portion of the cave floor she chose to use as her seat. "Ooh! Hey, Roy! What's your odds on them breaking through all that unresolved sexual tension and just start making out in front of us?"

Arsenal allowed the proper enough amount of time for Stephanie to recover from the slap to the back of the hand she so richly deserved. "Y'know, sprout. You've got a whole lot of issues," he pointed out rather astutely before adding, "I'm giving it 30-to-1. At best."

"All right! That's enough!" Kara shouted out to anyone willing to listen as she moved between her lover and her former crush, her powerful, outstretched arms a clear warning for the two gentlemen to keep their distance. The original salvo may have been a bit extreme for the case at hand but the look that the former Supergirl gave first to Lloyd and then to Grayson told a much gentler story.

_I know you're both mad and you've got every right to be but look at everyone else around you_, those crystalline blue eyes pleaded. _They're scared of what might happen because they're not sure how much they can lose from all of this and we've got to show them that we'll be okay. We've got to show them that we can take care of them. _The blonde-haired champion of two dead worlds was quick to broadcast this message to the generals of the group but also cautious enough to take the time to make certain that her thoughts were understood before stepping away from the potential fray. And, just as she had anticipated, the two gentlemen had taken the time to come to a silent agreement, the lone mote of dissension rising from Lloyd's dangerous glare that flickered on-and-off so quickly that it was nearly impossible for anyone else to notice it.

"Okay. All right. So let's cobble together what we know and work our way from there." Nightwing offered while taking several steps back. "Did you get anything from your trip to Zatara Manor?"

The Black Dog found he had to roll his thick shoulders before finding himself with the diligence to respond. "Well, that matter's as much as we expected," the British half-demon reported, the professional candor in his tone now sounding only a little bit forced. "Zatanna and Blood confirmed that all the hocus pocus Neron threw at us this time served to wear out a lot of the possible connections he could have used to link his home to the Earth itself. Not to mention that even a greater demon is going to have to expend a lot of its energy to pull off tricks like summoning the dead there and back through pandimensional space so the good odds are that we won't be seeing too much activity for the next several days."

"But there's still all those things that Neron gathered to put into play," Nightwing considered, the elder of the two detectives almost eager to take on the next step. "You said that this Bane of Velius amplified the demon's power so what's to say that Neron can't break the metaphysical laws he's already punched through before?"

Lloyd allowed himself a deep breath. "Well, there's always the danger of 'spikes' or flare-ups in the eldritch makeup between dimensions that could allow Neron to bring off some nasty stuff but that still won't offer him the time he needs to recover from what he's already done," The Black Dog countered, the straight, no-nonsense delivery coming back to form as he continued on. "Making bridges between dimensions, even with the connections he's got thanks to his pact with Bloomberg, still must be taking a lot out of Neron and 's not like he can just stop at the local gas pump and refill. It just doesn't work that way."

"Then maybe this might be just the time to strike back," Kara threw in, eager to donate to the cause. "I mean, we've been able to defeat Neron's forces up to this point and this way we'll be able to choose our own battleground."

"But we still don't know everything that he has at his disposal," Nightwing contended.

"And the fact of the matter is that we'd still be on the demon's turf," added Lloyd. "Something that's gotten sufficiently more difficult to get a grip on for some of us."

Kara laid a soft hand on the center of Lloyd's back as Nightwing fixed the half-demon with a quick look of reassurance. "You're both right," the half-Kryptonian admitted. "Still, the biggest fact is that we only have twelve more days until Neron chooses where we're going to fight and that's not an option that we can let him have."

"Okay, now I'm appreciating the fact that you guys are all calm and professional and tight-assed and everything but can we please get to the heart of the matter here?" Stephanie all but screeched, her thin supply of patience already well past the point of gone. "They know that Batman's been killing people and not even a huge chin or giant gazongas can keep somebody from recognizing that he's done too much damage for anyone to believe he did that alone!" She swerved her shaky eyes back to the distressed gentlemen she had come in with. "That asshole father figure of yours is going to learn that you've been here all this time, Roy! Wally, they might try to take your children from you!" The Green Lantern's will continued to work against her as the agitation she felt towards not being able to do anything about what was going on began to overwhelm her. "And they're going to find out that Dick and Hal were involved in the cover-up and then they're gonna get booted out of The Jackoff Leaque and that's just if they're lucky and now Superman is going to figure out that his cousin has been here the whole time."

Neither Dick nor Lloyd were really up for comforting their anxious comrade so Kara chose to take the imitative by wrapping her arms around Steph's shoulders, the taller woman securely holding the Green Lantern in place.

"I'm not going anywhere, Steffie," Kara whispered, the acoustics of the catacombs allowing her slight reply to spread throughout the room.

"And neither is Jai or Iris or any of the rest of us!" Lloyd quickly added, the look of certainty looming on Nightwing's face emboldening the Brit's declaration. "But the fact of the matter is that there's only so much of this battle that any one of us can take on. The best course of action, at least for right now, is for us to stand by and wait until. . ."

"Until I can figure out how to keep this war from starting at the worst possible time that it could begin."

The Misfits all turned their attentions to The Dark Knight of Gotham City as he made his presence felt, the detective's familiar cape and cowl bolstering the image of a determined man who was now prepared to face his demons or, in this case, the angels of his better nature.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential _

Well, I'll be the first to admit that this installment hardly featured the knockdown, drag out intensity of the last issue but, hey, I managed to work in Nightwing, Lois Lane, marijuana, and "Spartan slag" all in one issue so I'm more than content with my work. I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews of the last few chapters while simultaneously apologizing for not providing some reviews of my own. I promise they'll show up this weekend, loyal reviewers, a time when I might actually have spots in my schedule that do not involve working and/or sleeping.

Speaking of sleeping, am I the only one thinking that the whole Amazing Spider-Man three times a month thing is starting to show its age? I mean, it's not like I don't love me some Dan Slott or some good webslingin' but it's like nothing has happened since Jonah became mayor. Again, this may just be because it's three issues a month now but something has eventually got to happen! I mean, there's only so many times I can rewatch the same quarrel between Peter and his landlady or Felicia being a douche or Spidey fighting all of his old foes seemingly because it's been a while since we've seen them. Granted, Stan Lee did a whole lot of the same thing but at least there was a message that tied all those stories together, something that most comics tend to lack if I may say so myself.

Maybe they should just give me the reins. Hell, it would definitely beat actually laboring for a living. . .

* * *

_Issue #102 Preview_

The clock spins closer to Batman's return to The Watchtower and there's still a whole lot of questions that remain up in the air! Who will accompany Bruce to his hearing and how will those who don't come along will pave the way for a nightmare to come? How will Amanda Waller respond when she's forced to choose between her loyalties and her career? What will happen when Clark and Kara reunite? Or Roy and Ollie? Or Stephanie and Tim? All this will be revealed plus a certain master of anagrams as The Misfits rolls on with its next installment: _Jury of Our Peers_. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	102. Jury of Our Peers

Issue #102

Jury of Our Peers

_October 29__th__ – The Batcave – 11:22 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Well, boss," Lloyd began, the active second-in-command to The Misfits attempting to prove his worth by breaking the looming silence. "Might be playin' the hypocrite card here but you sure picked your sweet time to make your presence felt."

Bruce supplied a wry grin that was meant not just for the British half-demon but for anyone else who would have something smart to say in response to his timely arrival. "Someone had to try to approach this in a rational manner," the detective then threw in before adding, "and any time I chose to spend with you lot would have effectively eliminated any hope I'd have of providing anything more than a dumbfounded, slack-jawed disposition. . . as Robin there is attempting to demonstrate."

Stephanie needed an embarrassing moment before she could manage to shut her open yap. "Man, why can't I ever have putdowns that classy," she then mumbled, the quiet complaint encouraging the nearby Cecilia to roll her eyes in mild annoyance and that, in turn, spurred Robin's courage to the sticking point. "All right, so I guess that I'll be the one to nut up and ask. What are we going to do about the Jackoff League?"

"First we're going to stop calling them that," Batman shrewdly threw in. "Then we're going to figure out as much about what we're about to walk into as we can." The longtime perfectionist proved to be clever enough to see the need to change his delivery by slipping the familiar cowl off of his head and allowing his deep, blue eyes to broadcast a peaceful message that the clear white lenses could not. "And that brings us to you, Nightwing."

Dick took a moment to clear his throat and another instant to let out an annoyed sigh upon realizing that he was acting like a 10-year-old trying far too hard to impress his father. "Well, we were right to expect that the League wasn't just going to let this matter lie. A private inquiry has been set to begin in. . .," he paused to take a quick glance at the digital clock perched on the top of one of Noah's file cabinets, ". . . well, less than three hours from now. Oh, and they were planning on contacting you an hour beforehand and I'm still not entirely sure how much of that is because they knew I would tell you when I found out and how much of that is just them being assholes."

"Not exactly the best attitude to have when trying to win friends and charm snakes there, Grayson," Lloyd chided in a fairly well-natured manner, the younger of the two lieutenants eager to prove his own worth in this loosely planned contest of show-and-tell. "And I'm sure that you've read about my little trip to Zatara Manor. Just got off the horn with The Wall as well and she says that the feds are willing to pull some strings to keep us as autonomous as they can allow. Of course, that allowance is probably pretty dependent on just how much of us is about to be dug up. . ."

The Batman offered his lieutenants a slow bob of his head. "And you think we can trust Waller's words?"

Lloyd couldn't help but shrug his shoulders. "Don't really have a lot of reason to think that she's lyin'," he said with a smidgen of caution. "Of course, this is Waller we're talking about 'ere so there's never a really good reason to trust her either."

"We can trust her to recognize that what we're doing makes her look very good in the eyes of her superiors," Batman astutely countered. "We keep these city-destroying battles down to a minimum and keep the right faces on the eyes of the public and those things would only equate to her receiving greater authority and job security."

"Well, despite my overwhelming ardor in regards to tête-à-têtes concerning government-sponsored shadow ops programs and otherwise shady dealings, I would like my turn at the helm if you three gentlemen would be so inclined," interrupted a decidedly unwanted voice. "Honestly, Bruce. It's the least you could do considering the trauma and strain I've been forced to endure at the hands of your indirect bumblings." The owner of the peevish candor looked quite determined to add more but a trio of Batglares launched by the previous debaters quickly rendered him silent.

"And exactly _why_ is he here?" Nightwing asked irritably while pointing a still, determined finger at Edward Nigma. Of course, the former Robin hardly wanted to give The Riddler more of an opportunity to call attention to himself but it was a relevant question as far as he was concerned.

"Well, that is just an unnecessary abrasion upon my pride, my dear, eternal underachiever," Nigma easily replied, the gangling detective's tired body currently supported by a spare walking cane that the good Mister Pennyworth had been kind enough to provide. Of course, it wasn't nearly as ostentatious or as sleek or as green as he would have liked it but the private investigator was willing to be grateful for the small favor, if only for now. "Particularly after all the arduous labor I put in while your newly adopted team was complacent with dividing their time between gallivanting about the moon and opening up Moon Pie festivals."

The line was guaranteed to draw in Stephanie's laughter but the unexpected addition of Lloyd and Roy's chuckling gave Nigma enough time to turn his attentions elsewhere. "Pardon me for my curiosity, _Ceded Smith Onion Run Or, _but I would like to inquire about how you come to acquire proper bedding? The heat circulating around your body would indicate that your internal body temperature would be somewhere around 400 degrees Fahrenheit, a gradation of heat far too high for standard box springs or standard bedding material to properly support for an extended period of time."

The other Eddie residing in The Batcave could do little more than blink as the disbelief rolled through the half-demon's already tired thoughts. "Um. . . I. . . I don't think that's what we're here for."

"It isn't," stressed Kara, the young woman once again moving to bring the proceedings back to order. "Mister Nigma, it was Circe's claim and Mister Wayne's belief that you may know something important about the events that led to what's happening right now."

The Riddler responded with a slow smile, quite pleased that the spotlight was right where it belonged. "Thank you very much for the call to sanity, my dear. Now, perhaps some of you have been so caught up in criminally justifiable murder and various acts of mayhem to recognize this trend but I am hoping that you've had enough time to recognize that men and women of your ilk have a tendency of receiving that rare return voyage from Charon's eternal vessel."

"Um, you mean come back from the dead, right?" asked Stephanie, the Misfits around her either caught up with being annoyed or choosing to ignore Nigma's overly pedantic commencement. "Well, guys. You gotta admit that it's a pretty common trend. I mean, Supes has done it, Wonder Bra has done it, Hal's done it, Green Arrow's done it. Hell, I mean, I'm still shocked that I'm the only one of us that has actually gotten the whole Spock treatment."

"Um, well, yes," The Riddler said distastefully, the usually proper gentleman regarding the uncouth Green Lantern with an ire he usually reserved for a painfully obvious panhandler or an unfinished crossword puzzle. "The point I am attempting to make is that I've recently had the opportunity to provide my services to a number of various metahuman agencies including The Doom Patrol, The Justice Society of America, The Teen Titans. . ."

"And Cyborg is still wondering how he can get a refund." Nightwing added with a stage whisper.

The Riddler fired back a spiteful glare at his longtime nuisance. "The point remains that I have had the opportunity to investigate the disappearances and reappearances of various so-called superheroes and super villains and the fact remains that such instances have been null and void since the recent reappearance of one Stephanie Brown." Nigma recognized the potential gravity behind his discovery and allowed a bit of dramatic silence before allowing his pawns to go to their work.

"Well, much as I would like to refute the ridiculously gesturing fop, I must admit that he has a point," Noah Kuttler threw in, the hacker's glasses perched as high on his nose as they could go. "I mean, I can certainly recognize why many of us would wish to spend a great deal of attention upon such a matter but. . ."

"But we've lost a lot of people," The Flash said sternly. "Bart and Connor, J'onn, Arthur, and Black Lightning," he went on while continuing to pore the matter over. "Hawkwoman and the Dibnys. Maxine Hunkle and Ted Grant. Hell, even Deadshot, Knockout and Jimmy Olsen. I mean, as crazy as this is sounding right now, you'd think that we'd see at least one of these people pop back up again."

"And yet they have not," The Riddler unnecessarily added. "Which begs the posing of this query: What confluence of events were needed to bring about this small but meaningful change in our reality's formal definition of mortality and human existence?"

"And why it only seems that it's the well-known people that manage to rip off their own toe tags," The Black Dog quietly added, the subdued tone hiding hints of an edge in his otherwise neutral tone.

"That is a matter that is under as much control as we can provide it," The Batman announced, his tone not significantly petty but enough to convince The Riddler to let out a scowl. "That being said, I will confess to placing you in unnecessary danger and I invite you to now leave at your leisure or stay at the Manor until this conflict has reached its end." The detective's tones were purposefully quick and predictably determined to not allow a hint of delay or dissent. "Mister Bloomberg, of course, does not have the option to leave, at least until we can determine the extent of his involvement in the affairs at hand."

Nigma surprised everyone, including himself, when he managed to clamber over Kid Devil's verbal stumbling before serving as the first to respond. "You'll beg my pardon but I would hardly think that a fairly forced asylum could possibly serve as proper reciprocation, particularly given the denizens of the domicile you wish for me to find safety within." The sophistic phrasing earned the former nuisance of The Dark Knight of Gotham City his fair share of attention but Nigma's pride was far too dominant to let the foul air leave him silent. "After all, now that it has been proven that you have performed at least one cold-blooded murder then one must naturally assume that you have performed more or at least have the inclination to do so. So, keeping that hypothesis in mind, what makes you think I would ever consider staying here to be either a plausible option or a form of proper compensation?"

Batman was already prepared for a war but he soon discovered that someone had beaten him to the punch. "Because if we really are the reprehensible killers that you're making us out to be then it stands to reason that it wouldn't be too much trouble to get rid of you before we even had this conversation," Arrowette finally threw in, a dark mote of humor lifting from her voice as she sat quietly in her favorite computer chair. "Might even get a bit of a kick out of it, in fact, because, honestly, I've undergone a lot of stress in the last 24 hours and I've got plenty of spare arrows and the soil we just put into the southern gardens is very springy. Quite good for body disposal." Cecilia took some time out of keeping her eyes locked to the ground in order to properly take in the sight of Nigma's skin paling at the thought of the possibilities. "Or, you know, we can just let you back out into the open just hours after you managed to get on Circe's bad side."

"That's enough, Arrowette," Batman said sternly while trying not to take too much enjoyment from his old rival's dismayed countenance.

"Well, then let me just finish by saying that I'm going to The Watchtower with you," Arrowette answered back, the lady archer making certain to grab a tight hold on her partner's attention as she made her declaration. "I went into this just as willingly as you did and I have a right to defend my decision."

The slow, weighted sigh was the first sign of uncertainty that Bruce Wayne had chosen to openly display since the meeting had begun. "Are you certain that this is something you want to face right now?" he asked calmly, the sure candor bringing an unavoidable tinge of doubt into Arrowette's otherwise stern manner. "Cecilia, there's going to be another time and place for you to take this on."

Cissie rejected the kindly courtesy with a slight, grateful smile. "No dice. If I don't do this now then it's just going to keep chewing me open bit by bit." The conviction behind her words brought Cecilia's deep, blue eyes back down to the cave floor where she was allowed to remain.

Bruce seemed to find little reason to discuss the topic of conversation and cut it short with an acknowledging nod that served as both an agreement to his partner's theory and a sign of permission to carry it out. Perhaps it was something that could have been considered to be a close, meaningful moment but the lingering tension left the possibility to go unfulfilled as a far more dynamic attitude burst back onto the suddenly quiet tableau.

"All right, so who else is going up to Goosestep Central to face the music? Well, I mean besides Cissie, Bats, and yours truly."

The leader of The Misfits took a risky second to register Robin's thinly-veiled assertion before trying to cover up his mistake by clearing his throat. "Nightwing, do we have any more information on who, exactly, will be participating in the hearing itself? After all, if The Justice League is going to come at us with anything resembling a cloaked intention then it would be wise to do what we could to remove the veil."

Nightwing only exacerbated the enduring nemesis by shuffling his gaze between Stephanie and his adopted father. "Well, I still don't think we're going to be seeing any unusual suspects. I mean, Victor and Donna's influence should be enough to weed out any flack we could get from The Teen Titans and the combination of Jay and Alan plus all the mystic rumblings going on should neutralize the JSA. . ."

"Hey, wait a second," Stephanie broke in, the sharply pitched squawk causing the people who knew her best to cinch up. "That was avoidance. Why are we avoidancing?"

"Um, excuse me," Kid Devil began, his quiet murmur tempting nearly everyone to turn their attention away from the fair-haired powder keg. "I know that this may not be my place but, uh, is there anything I can do? Y'know, to help out?" The requests may have been simple and almost childlike but the guilt laced within the words forced many of those within the cave to consider the notion seriously.

"Well, one could argue that you've already done enough in regards to this state of affairs," Noah replied almost matter-of-factly, his discourteous response prompting Eddie Bloomberg's cheeks to flush a violent shade of pink while also drawing the hacker a fair share of anger and disbelief from his comrades. "That being said, you might be interested to know that Miss Wilson is expected to make a full and quick recovery from her will doubtlessly be her usual, boorish self as quickly as possible."

A slight bit of relief passed on Kid Devil's crimson-colored face as Roy moved to pat him on the head. "Don't worry, spitfire. We're gonna find a way out of this for ya. Just sit tight for a little while and we'll see if there's something you can do."

Batman offered the red-headed sharpshooter an almost imperceptible nod to reflect his gratitude toward handling the situation. "So let's return to the hearing. I have to admit that I already have a good idea about what we'll be seeing when we're up there but I'd be willing to hear someone else's opinion on the matter."

Nightwing resisted the urge to snort out a laugh. "Well, it's pretty safe to say that Hal will be on our side, or at least as much as he can be given his place on The Green Lantern Corps. I don't think Black Canary or Red Tornado will be looking to stir up any trouble and I'm still hoping that I can use some of my influence to sway Garth onto our side but that's something that won't make or break us either way." The former child acrobat couldn't help but notice that he was receiving full attention from those around him, a far cry from what he had come to expect from The Watchtower once Clark and Diana had made their return and the contentment that came from it stoked his confidence. "It also needs to be said that Oracle could definitely be a wild card in this, especially when she finds out just who managed to take her place," he added while making certain to fire a quick, knowing glance at said surrogate.

"Still, there's only so much damage that your ex can dump on us," The Black Dog threw in, the Brit easily weathering Nightwing's glower. "So, barring any unexpected surprises, the real problem areas remain the same."

Wally grumbled while crossing his lanky arms across his chest, the somewhat familiar response not remarked upon by the others as the speedster reported the news. "Clark, Diana, and Green Arrow. . ."

"The Three Muskatwits," Stephanie blabbered, the slight giggle that slipped from her lips sounding just like the desperate invitation it was.

The Flash quietly let the incitement pass quietly while continuing on. "Well, it's not like the first two don't have a legitimate reason to complain," he noted, the stern tone in his voice not sounding a bit like the prankster that merrily infested the long halls of The Watchtower only a handful of years ago. "And Lord knows that Ollie can get himself so wound up in this that he could draw in a few of the fencestraddlers."

"Or knock them to the other side," Batman countered, the master detective sharing another meaningful look with his patrol partner before bringing the room's full attention back to him. The transition allowed for the deep shell of the hard-edged vigilante to pass to one side so that the billionaire that had stumbled onto dozens of magazine covers could be dug through to reveal the achingly fragile human that remained at the very heart of the modern-day knight. It was the one part of him that desperately wanted to protect the people around him not because he needed them but because he would miss them if they were gone. There was no way that this little-known portion of The Dark Knight of Gotham City could or would reveal itself to whatever awaited him at The Watchtower but that part of Bruce Wayne clamored for attention so it was all the detective could do but to unveil it at the most convenient time available to him.

The voice behind the best and worst part of Bruce came out soft and almost quavering. "I've told all of you before that I was willing to face this alone. Now I know that Cissie's already agreed to go but she has her own reasons to do so. I don't want to endanger any of you more than I already have but I've known each of you long enough to realize that there's no stopping any of you when the chance to do something profoundly stupid comes along." The line brought some quick, understandably quiet laughter while also providing more time for each member of the leader's audience to ponder over his unspoken request.

Ten seconds passed before the first responder dove in. "Well, I think I'll take you up on your offer to duck out on this one," Roy Harper replied with the barest hint of a shame, the carefree expression on the marksman's face a little too bright to be all-the-way believable. "I mean, it'd be a refreshing change of pace to have to deal with what I've got to deal with on my own schedule."

"An opportunity that I think I will take advantage of as well," Noah Kuttler added, the hacker resisting the urge to take his well-wrinkled handkerchief to his already immaculate specs. "After all, this will allow the authorities to know where I am should worst comes to worst and I could use the extra time offered to protect my files during the handful of weeks it will take to escape from prison."

"Well, I know I'm going," Nightwing said easily. "I mean, any guy has got to be a little curious about all the dirt his ex has been digging up on him."

"Just as good a reason as any," Batman couldn't help but note before turning his attentions towards the young woman who had the best shot at destroying everything he had built during the last quarter of a century. "Like I said, no one here is being forced to go but I would recommend. . ."

Kara waved the rest of the well-meaning argument aside. "I was going to go whether you agreed with it or not, Mister Wayne," the half-Praxian admitted. "We all knew this was going to happen sooner or later and I think I'm more than ready for it. You, however, are _not _going." she then added while turning her bright, blue eyes toward their favorite target.

"Wasn't plannin' on it, luv," Lloyd replied, the Brit apparently having no problem with giving up the possibility. 'S'not like I neither want nor need to soil the heavens with my mere presence." The cocksure claim prompted his lover to fire back with upraised eyebrows that tempted The Black Dog into countering with by becoming serious again. "'Sides, the bottom line is that somebody is gonna have to stay and watch the fort so long as Neron even has a whit of a chance at taking advantage of all this."

The next voter quirked his lips to one side while considering the wisdom of his commander's decision. "Well, then I'll just mess some shit up for ya, boss," Wally said with determination, his showing of resolve bringing about a hint of a startle from some of those around him. "Yeah, kind of odd given that running is pretty much the one thing I know I'm good at." His chuckle was nearly as anxious as Robin's had been but it did manage to draw Batman's eyes. "I'm a part of the old guard too, Batman," he added with a bit more of a familiar swagger. "And I've had a couple years to think about some of the things I've been wanting to say."

"Okay, so it's a party of six then," Robin butted in, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns eager and quick to dole out amusement, approval, or annoyance to anyone that caught her eyes and had come to deserve it. "Such gripping draaaaaaama. . . Oh, and no touching my turkey legs while I'm gone, Speedy!"

Roy might have offered a smart ass retort to the obvious baiting, if only for tradition's sake, but the stern expression that quickly rose back onto The Batman's face was damn near enough to convince him to hide under the nearest table.

"You're not going, Robin."

* * *

_October 29__th__ – The Swiss Alps - "The Castle" – Second Floor Exercise Center – 11:47 A.M._

Amanda Waller had made a comfortable living by learning how to break the expectations of others. She managed to earn her way to The University of Illinois by passing through her high school years with flawless marks, an almost unheard of achievement in the crime-ridden, distraction filled landscape of Cabrini Green and those efforts inspired a local scholarship fund into sending her on her way. Likewise, no one anticipated that a legislative sapling just five years removed from college and with only three years in the military would be able to wade her way into a position where she would oversee a healthy percentage of America's soldiers. And even that early success was doubtlessly not enough to keep people from predicting her continuous rise through the ranks: leading The Suicide Squad, serving astutely as the Secretary of Defense under the otherwise ruined reign that had been Lex Luthor's brief stint as president, and now as the head of Checkmate, the world's premier shadow ops squadron, Indeed, the long-reigning Black King of Checkmate had her fingerprints on the pulse of world itself and the fact that she had to claw her way through the nightmares of Cabrini Green, Quantico, and Washington had only made that unexpected rise that much more satisfying.

The sweat that had cropped up around her thick forehead as she continued her daily five-mile run was just another dose of strain that she knew would ultimately bear fruit. It was a feat that not a lot of people would think to be possible from someone so thickly set and that recognition played a big part into pushing The Wall into accomplishing the feat on a daily basis, the satisfaction of proving someone wrong ringing out just as clearly in her ears as her heavy feet stomping on the treadmill.

The dull drone of the CNN nightly reporter was suddenly drowned out first by the sound of a door sliding open and then by the steps of the man who came inside. His handsome face was knit with concern that goaded Waller into letting out a tired smirk once she recognized that she was somewhat to blame for the consternation. She allowed the gentleman to observe her deceptively fast gait, the fellow's brilliant mind inside the already appealing package doubtlessly having already worked out the logistics of the unlikely situation before he had even thought to approach.

"Two questions," Michael Holt began while continuing to stride towards his boss. "How long have you known about this and why weren't the rest of us made aware of it?"

Waller snatched up the towel offered to her by the man known to many as Mister Terrific and used it to clear her clammy brow, the white, cotton cloth obscuring another chance to watch Wayne shatter Arthur Light's leg with a perfectly placed kick before a national television audience. "The first clue was when all of Batman's younglings began to abandon that comfy nest of theirs but yet crime in Gotham continued to go down. Then there was Mao Tenryu's decision to put The Black Dog under Wayne's tutelage and the rest was left up to a series of fortunate events." She knew the explanation to be lacking and that the deficient response would just leave the White Bishop of Checkmate frustrated but the fact remained that she was more interested in saving her breath. "As for why you didn't come to know of it until now, well, I made it part of my business to recognize the wisdom in not finding it until you managed to do so yourself. Lord knows you so-called heroes have a well-earned tendency to blow these things out of proportion."

Holt's dark brown eyes lowered in the midst of the rude but nonetheless accurate accusation. His sharp mind had already thought ten moves ahead of Waller's but the situation called for him to go through the paces and so he did. "So this explains why Nightwing needed my cloaking tech to break into the Brother Eye satellite. And I suppose that they're the reason why The Sinestro Corps lost a war they had already won by waging that battle in Gotham?"

"Honey, they've done more than that and you know it," Waller answered back with as much of a sly demeanor as she could manage while still looking dignified. "Mention a single big-time bust that was stopped before it could blow up and spill out of control and they've had their hands in it. The shutdown of Intergang, the clean-up of Gotham City and its environs, the rebuilding of Star City after all that mess with Alexander Luthor and his Secret Society. . ." The Illinois alumnus needed to take a breath after all her buildup. "Even Darkseid and his Anti-Life Equation."

Holt looked to be unfazed by all the revelations he had already suspected, the trademark black T sliding onto his face as he prepared his own move. "You know, an accusatory fellow might also link them to the near annihilation of Themyscira, the spreading of super powered criminal activity into cities like Atlanta and Metropolis. . . maybe even the public crucifixion of Superman."

Waller appeared to be as equally impassive as her colleague had been. "Life doesn't allow us to be perfect, Mr. JSA."

Holt seemed to actually consider the legitimacy of the underhanded reply before tossing a small object about two feet in front of Waller's treadmill. The little sphere briefly glimmered upon striking the ground before presenting a shower of light that instantly manifested itself into a holographic screen, the phenomenally complex series of computations and processes combining to be just another of the dozens of functions that Mister Terrific had installed within his trademark T-spheres. "Someone would like to speak with you," he then explained in a nonchalant manner while baldly refusing to resist the temptation to fire back with a knowing smirk.

The steady but respectful glare that Waller was all but forced to respond with allowed enough time for the image to make itself clear, the mass quantity of pixels and minute, fractured images mixing and combining to reveal an angry chief executive officer of the most powerful corporation in Hong Kong.

"What are you intentions regarding Bruce Wayne and his group?'

The Black King of Checkmate first responded by giving Scandal Savage a quick once over, her eyes paying particular attention to the heavy burn marks that blighted the left side of the immortal's face. "I would have thought that you'd still be recovering from Ishmael Gregor's attack on your compound, Miss Savage," she said shrewdly while soaking in the anger that followed like a lizard would take in the desert sun. "Has anyone ever told you that you're far too quick to come to the defense of your adopted little brother, young lady? That kind of unprofessionalism has killed leaders that have had far better security over their throne than you, your predecessor included."

The leader of The Secret Six quickly defied the critical advice with a scowl. "You shouldn't test me, Waller," she said with menace. "You and I already have our share of bad blood and it wouldn't take a great deal of activity on your part to make us enemies."

A derisive snort served as Waller's opening act of contrition. "Do us both a favor and try not to be so melodramatic. I haven't sent any squads to go after Blake or Fries in a month's worth of Sundays and I allowed the transfer of your newest associate to go off without any logical interference."

"You know this isn't about any of that," Scandal broke in, her tone finally beginning to dip into the shade of equanimity. "And, given your history of serving the interests of your imperfect country, you'll pardon me if I don't trust any claim you make about securing _my _investments."

Waller let out the closest thing she had to a smile. "Duly noted. That being said, perhaps you should stop and think about just what benefit I could possibly get from the disbanding of Wayne's group or the expulsion of The Black Dog from American soil? It's been three years since their formation and The Misfits have managed to break up more underground terrorist activities and mob-related crime rings than my group could do in ten and The Justice League could do in twenty." The highest ranking nonactive officer in the United States military allowed her voice to get some rest as she passed the four-mile mark, the burning of her lungs and abdomen spurring her to finish with strength and quickness. "And, of course, there's the manner that they'll do all this thankless work without asking for a penny from Uncle Sam."

The reforming skin cells above Savage's lips seemed to curdle while the rest of her face registered an almost annoyed sense of disbelief. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a fairly ruthless person, Miss Waller?"

There was little way to properly register the lack of care that Waller brought to the table. "I couldn't care less about any of you. Not you or Wayne or that little, stray British terrier that so many troubled ladies apparently want to take in," she replied, the only bounce in her expressions stemming from her movements on the moving track. "And I'll tell you, Clark Kent, Diana Prince, and anybody else who feels like asking that the only thing I care about is my duty."

* * *

"And just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Batman couldn't help but note that the hint of mischief that always seemed to persist in Stephanie's voice was noticeably absent in this recent accusation. The recognition gave him pause as he slowly turned away from his work station before settling in on the sight of a fuming Robin, the sight of her still frame injecting him with an unwilling dose of apprehension.

"I'm trying to make certain that everything I've built over the last 25 years isn't destroyed in the next 24 hours." He knew that the move was a long shot at best and a profoundly bad move at worst and the scathing glow that blazed from Robin's pale, blue eyes informed the vigilante that his response was safely locked on the lower end of the scale.

"Don't play dumb with me. I _hate it _when you play dumb with me!" Stephanie shouted back, her fists clenched and hovering inches away from her hips. "Why are you trying to keep me from going to The Watchtower with you? I have a right to be there!" Likewise, there were quite a few people who could have pointed out that Robin's rejoinder wasn't the best way to get onto Bruce's good side. In fact, the stress gleaned from the mere idea that his authority was being seriously questioned was enough to stretch at his ego.

"There's no reason for you to be there. Hal is already serving as a representative of The Green Lantern Corps and Cecilia is a far more suitable representative as it pertains to relating the regression of Gotham's crime circles." The scarily familiar scowl that he was already being forced to endure only stoked Bruce's anger as he proceeded with what he believed to be a rational argument. "And I have no need for your distractions."

Robin's eyes bulged, the fury on her face providing quite the contrast for the overly impassive countenance that Batman proffered in return. "Oh, I'm just too much of a distraction! What, do you expect me to just start PMSing in the middle of your little boardroom meeting? Or am I just not good enough for you anymore now that you've been dragged out into the open?"

Batman jabbed a finger at the cloud of accusation that had been hovering for far longer than the current argument, the tip of his right ring finger directed straight between Robin's eyes. "_That _is what I'm talking about!" he hissed back with frightful determination. "You have no reason for going on this assignment and I know you're smart enough to recognize that there are people more suited for the job but you're insisting on coming along simply because you're being told that you can't! You come into this kind of negotiation with that attitude and you'll only do us all more harm than good!"

The truth can be a painful thing to hear, especially if the ears who took it in happened to be owned by someone who was used to dealing with people who left her to figure out these matters on her own. "But it's okay for Sabbac to try and broil me alive so he can get revenge for what Lloyd did to him! It's okay for Doctor Light to try and rape me just because he wanted to get back at you for punching his ticket because, hey, silly, stupid Stephanie can take care of herself in a fight, at least!," challenged Robin, the opaque lenses of the mask over her eyes doing little to mask her anger. "You don't mind if I put myself on the line for somebody else but when it comes to defending what _I _do, something that I'm better at than you'll ever be, then I have to rely on you to defend me. Is that what you're trying to say?"

"That's all the more reason why you should remain here!" _Where it's safe_, Batman added silently, the litany of factors that kept him from expressing that last thought going blissfully ignored by both parties as a cavalcade of stored-up emotions continued to bubble over. "Lloyd understands the reasons why he should remain underground and Kara recognizes the necessity of having to defend her name! Why can't you understand what's best for you?"

Robin's fingers were trembling even as she wrapped her hands around her hips, a lifetime of lies and impossible promises spurring her on. "Oh, now I'm too stupid to even recognize who I should be!" she spat back, the scrape of her fingers against the cotton bottom of her t-shirt rippling in her ears as her quick steps brought her within inches of Batman's unflappable figure. "Now I'm just the idiot who can't even take care of her herself! I'm not like your precious Superman or Wonder Woman or all the people you actually wanted to be with instead of me!" The anger and the persisting deceit left Stephanie right on the precipice but she held herself back, just like she always had and was proud of doing. "So, tell me this then, are you going to ask Selina to come with instead?"

Batman had thrown his arms up in frustration before even recognizing that he had done so. "This _again!" _he roared back. "Now excuse me if I'm breaking up your little psychological bubble here but what made you think that you had any say on who I should or shouldn't be with?"

"She's not right for you!" Robin snarled, her hatred and vitriol powering every word. "She's a thief, she was a murderer. . ."

"Selina was never convicted nor formally accused of attempted murder." Batman interrupted in a droll, disdainful tone he would have normally employed when addressing a simple street thug.

"Fine! Then she just _attempted_ to kill Dick! Or, hey, maybe she just locked him in that cage of tigers because he thought your son needed some more cardio work!" Robin noticed Batman turning away from her for a fraction of a second and that was more than long enough to convince her to pounce. "But maybe she is reformed! Maybe she's serving on the side of the angels or whatever the fuck you want to call it but you can't deny that she's pulled this trick before! She's hurt you before!"

The rational part of Batman allowed several silent seconds to pass in an attempt to calm things down on both sides but the unrelenting explosion of undignified anger standing across from him was more than enough to gall him once that period was done. "It's rare when there's a wholly innocent party when it comes to a relationship, Robin," he said plainly. "Feel free to finally get back in touch with Tim if you need some proof of that." He knew it to be little more than a minor miracle that Robin merely bristled in response to that but that warning wasn't enough to stop him. "Or are you just spending too much time with that Grove Street punk to remember him?"

The sound of skin crashing against skin resounded throughout the expansive work quarters as Robin landed an awkward but powerful slap across Batman's cheek, her instinctual urge stymied just barely by her senses as she uncoiled her clenched fist at the last split second.

"You don't get to do that!" Stephanie seethed as Bruce instinctively brought his hands up to the bright red portion of his face. "You can't just judge me or say I can't do something without doing the other stuff too! I let him do that and I won't let you get away with it!"

Batman's back teeth were grinding against one another now, the pain resonating just inches away from the bits of bone all but forgotten. "I allowed you to date Rojelio without any intervention on my part!" He knew his supposed good deed didn't have a bit to do with what they were talking about but the simple fact was that the option was available and he was too much of a coward not to take it. Damn it, Stephanie! What do you want me to say?"

It was certainly a thorn-laden inquiry, one that even somebody like Stephanie found to require a few moments to find the best way to avoid the glaring spines. "I want. . . I don't know. Maybe just something I wanted to hear from somebody else. Somebody who could say it and mean it." The admittance seemed to sap the strength out of the Green Lantern, her usually lightly tanned skin now having turned pale and so glaringly different from the angry blotch of red that she had made on Bruce's face. "I'm sorry. . ." she then mumbled while turning her eyes away, her brain determined to lock in on anything that wasn't Bruce Wayne or anything that reminded her of him. "I. . . I can't do this anymore."

Selina was kind enough to allow enough time for Stephanie to leave before she slid onto the scene. The vast majority of her instincts may have implored her to do otherwise but several decades of tempering and bad decisions ultimately convinced her to bat those possibilities away. Of course, she wasn't quite humble enough to take a hint of pleasure from the venomous glare her lover had ready for her, her never-ending lust for the chase and the game that came with it simply too intoxicating to fully ignore.

"I hope you enjoyed watching that little exchange," Bruce finally said in greeting, his words robust while the tone behind them was slightly burrowed through. He said nothing as Catwoman slunk closer to him without a hint of fear of reprisal and did not move a muscle as she pressed her lips against the still stinging part of his face.

"Oh, Bruce," Selina replied, her right hand slipping towards the small of Bruce's back so her graceful fingers could graze along the muscles that bulged just above the curve of his hips. She wrapped her other arm around his tired shoulders, the utterly selfless move serving as something she would have scratched her own eyes out for doing only a handful of years ago. "What the hell are you going to do now?"

* * *

_October 30__th__ – 12:21 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Noah Kuttler had officially decided that, when all this was said and done, he would like to meet Barbara Gordon in person. Granted, he still had little clue about the details of the potential get-together such as where he would want the meeting to take place or how he would manage to bring his supposed rival to a state where she would be open to any kind of informal discussion but at least he had the groundwork at hand and The Calculator couldn't help but think that it was still a step in the right direction.

This decision was not without some long-gathered motivation, mind you. After all, the opportunity to convene with an individual who had done so much to both benefit and ruin his life from as far as two continents away was hardly offered to him every day (although it was presented far more often than he would have ever anticipated during his days at M.I.T., he had to admit). For example, the phenomenally complex, multinetwork firewall with which he finally managed to block Oracle's latest attempt to break into his digital dossiers would have never even been constructed if not for the presence of his rival hacker, the one person who would have even had a prayer of beating him at the game that he had helped build and grow into what it was.

A game whose dominance she had tried and failed to steal from him, let it be noted. Oh, and would he note it upon meeting her if and when that congregation ever took place.

His most recent mischief now managed, the hacker found that he had a moment to take in his familiar surroundings and notice that there was a discrepancy against the standard fare. Feeling the slight wave of heat against his back, he turned to meet the somewhat sheepish expression on the smooth, scarlet face of Eddie Bloomberg. He looked on patiently as the young half-demon gathered quite the sheepish expression upon the realization that he had just been spotted.

"Quite the rare occasion to be having unexpected guests," Noah noted with what he hoped to be an air of nonchalance. "Not that it isn't entirely unwelcome, I suppose." The bespectacled computer wonk couldn't quite understand why the chuckle he received in return made him feel a little bit better but the fact was that it did. Perhaps Harper had a point when he claimed that the troublesome boy tended to bring out the best in people.

"Sorry about that," Kid Devil replied, the sharp fingernails of his right hand lightly skimming through his shoulder-length silver hair. "I tried to go up into the manor but, I don't know, I guess it just didn't feel right." The disorderly explanation was already beginning to chafe at Noah's thinning patience and that pressure goaded the Teen Titan into adding, "This place feels safer."

Noah briefly lifted his fingers from their assigned spots on his keyboard to consider the truth behind the claim. "Well, it's quite all right. You are a guest of the manor, after all, and it is only fair for you to be able to see so long as you don't touch." The bark of laughter he received in response did make The Calculator feel a little bit better but his shock overcame the good vibrations and coerced him into turning back to the source of it. "Am I missing something here?"

Kid Devil shook his head back and forth. "Naw. . . I mean, no sir," he said in a good-natured manner. "It's just that. . . just then you kinda reminded me of a couple of people that have stayed at the tower off and on for the past couple of years. They just kinda talk funny but they were really smart and good with computers and firewalls and viruses and all that stuff."

Noah's fingers were already back to their duties.

"I mean, not that they weren't nice people, Wendy and Marvin. I kinda miss 'em, truth be told."

"Well, how fortuitous that I could remind you of your colleagues," The Calculator snappishly replied, his fingers tapping against the keyboard with a bit more fervency than what was required. "That being said, I have a great many duties to attend to and I would greatly appreciate it if I could manage these matters without any further distractions."

"Well, I could argue that people are often capable of performing their best work while bothered by such common commotions," argued another, more relaxed candor as The Riddler made his presence felt, the tip of his walking cane dragging across the limestone with each, slight step. "In fact, I would consider the examination of the potential correlation between the copycatting techniques enacted between those aforementioned tech experts at Titans Tower and yourself to be quite the invigorating exercise."

The Calculator had enough wherewithal to combat the pointed jab with a prim smile. "Forgive our other guest, Mister Bloomberg. It appears his high-profile caseload has coerced him into examining the glorious and asinine rather than the plain and logical."

"I beg your pardon," Nigma snappishly replied, the momentary cinching up of his cheeks making the private investigator look as if he had been slapped. "For your information, I have solved numerous cases either pro bono or in service of local and state government agencies and, thanks to that altruism, I have received numerous public commendations for my intrepid work. Exactly what publicly-acknowledged commendation citations have _you _received outside of arrest warrants and the occasional bounty of an Andalusian virgin?"

Noah snappily responded to his advantage by plucking his spectacles off the bridge of his nose with an unanticipated supply of panache. "I beg _your _pardon but did Conan Doyle himself not claim that acknowledgments of one's gifts toward society should pale in precedence when measured against that the deeds that are performed in secret?"

"Oh, you would think that, wouldn't you?" Nigma hissed out, the first supply of frustration accrued over nine years of paranoid suspicion leaking out like a balloon with the slightest of holes. "Not only do you mimic the thoughts and actions of your precious, over-ballyhooed superior but you also continue to infringe upon my élan and well-organized public devices!"

Kid Devil continued to watch the loud though erudite argument with great curiosity, if not interest, his attention shifting back and forth between Kuttler and Nigma like a game of ping-pong was going on inside the half-demon's skull.

"Wow, it's Nerdy Combat," he noted as the long-winded squabbling continued on without him, his forehead wrinkling as he reconsidered his diagnosis. "Hot damn, I'm feeling stupider just by listening to it."

Suffice it to say, young Eddie Bloomberg's observations went unnoticed by either of the viciously arguing parties.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Bridge of the Lunar Whale – 1:55 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

The trio of passengers waited patiently as Batman completed the docking procedure with the massive orbiting satellite known to the world below as The Watchtower, the expert pilot easily prodding the massive ship through its paces with a well-practiced ease. The blinking lights of the docking bay were a familiar sight for two of the three people along for the ride, the nearby presence of spacesuit wearing security personnel guiding them in the recreation of an image of well-crafted sense of security. The elder of the two females, however, viewed all the glorious technology and clean efficiency with a wary eye, her scrutiny transforming the pristine background into a clever backdrop for the manipulation to be found within. It was almost enough to convince Arrowette to let out a sneer at one of the soldiers working to guide them into a safe landing while her hands nervously moved to straighten her vest and the body armor beneath it as The Lunar Whale finally came to a full stop. Regaining her composure, the archer turned to face her resolute partner, the man she hoped and prayed to be the one who would guide them, all of them, through the troubles to come.

"So is it still too early to point out how much you screwed up the whole Stephanie situation?"

Batman devoted the time and energy he could have used to answer the question to rise from his chair, his back soon lengthening from the efforts until it was ramrod straight while his face remained set in stone. He did his best to fight back his annoyance as his actions were duplicated by his sly patrol partner and moved quickly to stride down the wide space linking the seating lanes of the craft's cockpit, the slightly faster steps of Cecilia the only discrepancy between her actions and his.

"Okay, can somebody give me a refresher course on why we pulled this ship out of the mothballs instead of just using the teleporters?" Wally asked as he rose from his seat in turn, the speedster already decked out within his familiar crimson-and-gold cloth armor.

"We're setting up a position of authority in a situation where we weren't given one to start with," explained Kara, the half-Kryptonian calmly pulling up the rear as they proceeded to the starboard side hatch that would bring them fully into the orbiting satellite. "We're showing The Justice League that we are willing to explain our actions and defend our beliefs while also refusing to be pushed around."

Wally raised his eyebrows in interest, the actual gesture unseen by his audience due to the fact that his back was turned to her but still given away by the slightest upward flexion of his (muscles in the skull). "Huh. And here I thought that we were just being a bunch of douchnizzles."

"Well, they started it with the whole 'surprise call'," Kara pointed out, her slightly whimsical counterpoint failing to draw a discernible hint of irritation from Batman. Everyone remained silent, in fact, as they walked off of the ship and were immediately set upon by several dozen black spheres. They were designed much in the same line as the T-spheres but these devices were dedicated to only a single purpose: to analyze for weapons and any other signs of incongruous threats that may be posed by those who set foot upon the active home base of the galaxy's most-recognized group of superheroes.

"You know, I thought that these things were cute when I was working here," The Flash hedged as one of the security "eyes" fluttered above his left shoulder. "You know, sort of like little, miniature HAL-9000's."

"Me too," Kara replied while casting a cautious glare at the "eye" hovering around her face. "Well, not that I worked here or anything." The device seemed satisfied with its diagnosis and floated away from her and that was enough to tempt Kara into sweeping back an errant strand of hair back behind her left ear. "In fact, the last time I was here was when my dark half broke in to try and kill Lex Luthor and I ended up beating up Hawkman and Black Canary and. . . ummmm. . ."

"It's okay," Wally quickly broke in as the speedster's examination came to a close. "Just promise me that you're not wearing a black-and-silver miniskirt under that outfit. Nice blouse, by the way."

Kara offered a steady smile as she followed the others toward the elevator, her enhanced senses allowing her to acquire a good lay of the land by the time they had all made their way inside the somewhat cramped carrier. She could still smell the faint traces of ozone wafting from the force barrier that had kicked in only moments after their complete arrival, the distasteful fumes only adding a hint of trepidation to go with the slightly churning feeling in her gut. There was little doubt in her mind that she could do what she needed to do if the need arose but her concern for her colleagues filled her with pause and frustration. She could almost see the gears turning in Diana's head, the experienced warrior and strategist having doubtlessly remembered the mindset of her former student and employing that knowledge to lure just a bit more of an advantage.

"So pleased you managed to change your clothes, Flash. Goodness knows that the scent of marijuana smoke would have undermined what little authority we have to bring to the table here."

A wonderfully awkward handful of seconds passed as Cissie, Kara, and Wally took in Batman's unexpected words before the three of them broke out in loud, necessary laughter. The almost wayward merriment nearly caused Bruce to crack a smile and that only added to the confusion that registered on Nightwing's face as the door slid open and the younger detective was allowed to examine the surreal scene. And then Nightwing laughed as well, if only because there wasn't a good enough reason not to, before he moved to walk at his father's right hand as Batman led the way down the long. Familiar corridor. Cecilia moved in a similar fashion on Bruce's left while Kara continued to pull up the rear and Wally drifted between the four corners while still making his way forward as well, the fastest of the quintet seemingly prepared to defend or hasten away the friends and family around him. They continued on in such a fashion long after the laughter had come to a stop and until they had come to a familiar series of double doors, the last border between what they were now and whatever the hell the world wanted them to be. The doors opened upon a silent command and the five criminals were allowed to take their first glimpse of the setting inside and the people who were waiting for them, some of them doubtlessly awaiting the possibility of serving as arbiters to their collective fate.

"All right," Arrowette said as the doors slid to their widest point. "Showtime."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I was kinda, sort of hoping that I'd be able to make up some lost time over what was planned out to be a short issue (please refrain from outright laughter until after you've left the site, thank you) but the brutal tag team of Actual Life and Boy, I'm Lazy planned out a beautiful match and I was lucky to eke out a time-limit draw. I can only hope that I'll someday grow to be as good of a multitasker as Peter Parker who, according to Brian Michael Bendis, can be on two Avengers teams while crime-fighting in New York City and somehow managing to maintain a full-time job that allows him to pay his bills. Oh, and let us say nothing of Wolverine in this particular regard. Of course, I suppose that one can only hope to draw failure from inspiring to be like a fictional character, especially if those characters happen to reside in the world of Marvel Comics.

Feel free to review, guys and gals, and thank you for helping me get to the 800 review mark. Like I've already said to some, I will provide reviews and answer questions as soon as life allows me but, until then, the only thing I can provide is this. . .

* * *

_Issue #103 Preview_

The games begin on The Watchtower as Batman and his team are forced to answer the rightful questions that have lingered on the minds of The Justice League. How will Superman and Wonder Woman respond as the crimes of the dark third of their triumvirate are finally brought to light? How will Kara respond to her cousin after three years spent apart? And, most importantly, how will Lloyd, Stephanie, and Roy manage to stretch out a game of poker over the course of four issues?

Because that's all that they'll do right? Play cards and make filthy but hilarious jokes? Yeah, I'm certain that's all it'll be.

All this and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Salvos and Failed Checks. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	103. Salvos and Failed Checks

Issue #103

Salvos and Failed Checks

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – Central Meeting Room - 1:58 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Batman couldn't help but be reminded of one of his favorite childhood stories as he began his long, hard look at those prepared to judge him, the accusing or forcefully neutral tones growing and clustering around him instinctually prompting the detective to tear a portion of his turbulent thoughts toward safer, more consistent memories. The story in question was the tale of Daedalus and Icarus, if one was interested in knowing which and though it was hardly the most uplifting of parables it had nonetheless struck a chord with that 10-year-old boy who had grown quite interested in learning how to take in the world from afar. Now, over 30 years later, the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City had long come to recognize why Alfred had warned him about how the meaning of a story could change over the passage of time. After all, Icarus may have been the one to incur the wrath of the gods by attempting to escape his limitations but it was his father that had given his child the means to commit the folly in the first place.

Batman noted that the gods here weren't quite so unified this time as he took in the profusion of expressions and emotions displayed by those seated at the longer and taller of the two tables situated across from one another in the middle of the expansive chamber. He first brought his attention to Hal Jordan's familiar face, the Green Lantern's handsome countenance tempered by a sense of stoic professionalism that had taken two decades and several lives to bring into being. Heaven alone knows how the braggart and intergalactic champion could manage to work up the fortitude to stand alongside those who might soon view him as an enemy but only a simple matter of eye-to-eye contact was enough to allow Bruce to bear witness to the minute cracks in his old friend's armor. Barry had always said that Hal would be unstoppable at the blackjack table but worthless at poker and the flickers that started and stopped on the face of the former Spectre provided some solid proof of that theory. Still, despite those chinks and the reservations that could have come with them, Bruce knew whose side the former Air Force ace was on. It was just a matter of proving that he was there as well.

Dinah was the next presence on Bruce's tableau as he continued to move his eyes from left to right, the sight of The Black Canary's bright but stormy blue eyes springing both good and bad memories from all parts of his crime fighting career. He knew that the blonde songbird and martial artist extraordinaire had always taken pride in being a good part of the glue that held The Justice League together, the tiny voice of reason that always managed to somehow stretch over the roar of gods when the need arose. That being said, fifteen years of knowing and working alongside Dinah Laurel Lance allowed Batman to realize that the possibility of becoming a spectator in the oncoming storm was threatening to bring out the old, familiar nervousness that remained in his occasional enemy but far more frequent friend. It's a faltering fretfulness that tempts him into shifting sensations of annoyance and sympathy before he finally manages to break away from it completely before it can dig too deeply into him, the possibility of showing weakness simply too much of a threat to take on in the present time.

The sight of a proud, black-haired soldier adorned in red-and-black battle armor proves to not bring about such dangerous consequences. In fact, Garth's calm, quiet presence, a longtime trademark of the former junior partner of Arthur Curry nearly left Batman with a hint of pride that his own adopted son had the privilege to mature and grow alongside the current head of Atlantis' Royal Council. A highly skilled magician and a gifted fighter to boot, the hero known to the public as Tempest had once been on his short list of those he had wanted to recruit into the team he would employ to dig into the underbelly of metahuman crime but Aquaman's death and a number of barely expected events ultimately made the effort implausible and unwise to try. As a result, he now looked up at this proud man, a soul far removed from the confused boy that had been exiled to die as a reject of his own society, and recognize one of the good parts of what the world had become while hoping that he hadn't made an enemy of this wise but humble leader of society.

That sense of trepidation prompted Bruce to look to his right to look upon the cyborg known as Red Tornado, the Rann-built machine looking just as stoic and neutral to the goings on as he always had. Although the machine's garish red, blue, and yellow exterior often prompted the uninitiated to regard the longtime Justice Leaguer with an air of amusement, Bruce had spent enough time witnessing the impressive feats and the phenomenal sacrifices that the longtime Justice Leaguer had made in order to preserve the unity of his adopted family and recognized that the noble creation would not allow it to be challenged or broken apart without a phenomenal fight.

Batman was within five feet of the smaller table's center chair when he finally chose to regard the burning glare of Oliver Queen bearing down upon him. The elder vigilante quickly took in the bizarre mixture of anticipation, anger, and turmoil rip-roaring through the archer's blatantly volatile mindset and found himself reminded of the plentiful supply of linking qualities between him and the man known as Green Arrow. They were both young men raised in the lap of luxury, they both sought a life of fighting crime to make up for the guilt that came about from such a luxurious lifestyle and they had brought children into their lives that would inevitably come to serve as not just a source of redemption but also as a haughty statement to the world around them that they could get something right. Goodness knows that the champion of Star City had dealt with more than his fair share of claims of impersonation and copycatting and the consequences that came with those usually friendly comparisons were now paying their harmful dividends. Batman was doubtless about his guess that Green Arrow was seeing a portion of himself while broadcasting his temper for all to see and was quickly convinced that it wouldn't take much for Star City's resident hero to bring that self-stoked anger to bear.

Speaking of children of privilege, the woman known to some as Diana Prince seemed to be carrying quite the torch of righteous indignation as she stewed in the seat just to the right of center stage, the Themysciran ambassador recognized throughout the cosmos as Wonder Woman looking quite prepared to leap forward in order to confront her foes directly. Batman was almost on the verge of being purposefully late in the hopes that he would further draw in his old friend's anger but it only took a hint of consideration towards the juvenile maneuver to abandon the notion and arrive promptly. The happenstance that his own table was significantly lower to the ground than that of the League's was doubtlessly her idea, the combination of a peerless tactician and a spoiled princess bringing about another simple power play designed to sway the outcome into her favor. It was downright galling to the shrouded detective and the frustration brought about a hard glare from his masked eyes that was gamely matched by the powerful Amazon in a manner that filled Batman with annoyance, frustration, and, well, more than a little bit of primal attraction.

"I believe it's high time that we begin," said Superman, the Justice League's chairman quick to take control before the looming anger and resentment could bubble any further. The Kryptonian was trying his best to invoke an aura of forceful serenity and did so with great success, his unrelenting gaze quickly catching every eye in the room and bringing about a quick silence and taking of seats. "Before we begin, I would like to openly declare that it is good to see all of you again. I only wish that it was under more amiable circumstances."

The opening statement could have been considered to be a cheap shot but the unflinching sincerity in the greeting forced Bruce through the guilt he had been trying quite hard to slide away from view. A quick registry from the corner of his right eye reported that Dick and Kara had only been slightly more successful as he had been, the former hastily locked eyes with the table while the latter managed to hold The Man of Steel's gaze for a second or two before finally letting out a breath and turning away.

"I think we can all agree that there's a lot of ground to cover today," Kal-El continued on once he was certain that he had everyone's full attention. "In the interest of brevity and keeping the facts straight, I have invited the League's tech expert to join us via satellite. I'm sure that no introductions are necessary."

Batman could clearly his adopted son sucked a good portion of air back into his lungs as the array of computer equipment behind the judges' table roared to life. The sum product of all the operations soon rose to life as the central monitor became dominated by a green mask awash in a pure-white background. The masquerade held no physical face behind it, of course, but the digital graphic clusters made up for that by hiding one of the world's most powerful minds, a woman who had been assigned to the task of digging up everything she could about the clandestine activities of the accused in question and had succeeded to a degree that she never wanted to achieve.

"Good morning, everyone," said Oracle, the technological masking of Barbara Gordon's true voice doing nothing to hide the hacker's resignation.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Batcave – 2:02 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

It was fairly easy for Noah to admit that he had little interest in whatever Lloyd had to say about his most recent trip to Zatara Manor and the overly pedantic way in which the British half-demon tended to construct his reports hardly did any favors to the casefile's appeal. Nevertheless, the only viable alternative he had to working on it was observing the hearing and the presence of that opportunity quickly persuaded him to plunge into his tedious but suddenly necessary work. Perusing the material at a feverish pace, The Calculator's photographic memory allowed him to take in the necessary details with only a fraction of effort while leaving the rest of his mind to figuring out how to reconstruct and reframe the salient information in his own form and fashion. His fingers were already flying across the keyboards before the conclusion had even been fully shaped, the urge to put himself into labor and motion overwhelming his usually strong sense of order and procedure. He knew enough of himself to realize that this urge was a part of his obsessive compulsions that he had yet to fully place under his control despite the aid of medication but the loud complaints from his neural receptors could do nothing to interrupt the urge to continue working.

It was the only thing he could do. Or, rather, the only thing he knew he could do well.

He may have tried to come across as flippant about everything that could come about from all the surrounding madness but the trepidation still managed to toss his heart about much like his father's old sailboat would trample across the choppy waters of Chesapeake Bay. A change in how Bruce would feed his own obsessions would lead to a change in his way of life and, quite frankly, Noah had grown quite comfortable with life the way it was, annoying young lads and lasses and the struggles of caffeine addiction aside. The nine hours since the news broke had given him plenty of time to think of ways he could live his life if Wayne Manor was no longer an option and none of those possibilities: working for Waller, working for a global communications network or returning to his freelance days, seemed to be the least bit appealing. The first two would chain him to a lifestyle that would quickly leave him shifty and restless while the last one was just another distressing truth that he would rather have power he didn't want than have any power at all.

_Enough of that_, Noah finally convinced himself while taking a swift sip from his thermos. _There will be time for pointless psychoanalysis later_. He allowed himself a deep breath before returning to the text on the main monitor and the stillness that came with such a gesture worked well in leaving enough room for confusion as he returned to Lloyd's contributions. For where there was once long, occasionally flowing sentences there now stood a seemingly endless series of ones and zeroes that appeared to surge from the monitor and pool at his feet. A couple of quick blinks of his eyes cleared up that peculiar illusion but the binary code remained and left a small part of Noah wondering if The Black Dog was playing some kind of elaborate prank. The young man's powers may have been on the occasional fritz but he was still fairly certain that a certain brat of a Green Lantern could have easily convinced him to try and pull something like this off.

"What's that stuff?"

A small flare of irritation began to ooze from The Calculator's thoughts as he registered Kid Devil's voice. "It's binary code," he said curtly, his powerful mind already searching through the supply of encryption programs and data transcription engines he could employ to help him bring the mystery to a rest. "Either someone is playing an uninspiring prank or my efforts to stop Oracle took a greater toll than I had expected."

"Any way I can help?" Bloomberg offered, the healthy supply of cordiality in the half-demon's tone unknowingly working to get on the hacker's last nerve. Nevertheless, the devil remained patient as Noah heaved out a tired sigh as he straightened his spectacles.

"I neither want nor need anyone's assistance in this matter," Noah fired back, his patience and good will suddenly cut short.

"You know, I bet that Marvin and Wendy would have figured this out by now," Eddie continued on, the Teen Titan seemingly heedless to the pointed entreaty. "I wonder why you just can't think backwards like everybody else?"

The continued aggravation was nearly enough to force Noah to turn away from his conundrum but the swarming code managed to draw his visual attention for at least a little bit longer. "There isn't any need to go back there," he admitted while plucking off his spectacles. "In fact, I don't recall that this matter is any of your business so if you would kindly. . ."

The handkerchief slipped from Noah's grip as he was thrown into the central monitor, the combination of plastic and glass cracking in the wake of Bloomberg's incredible strength and leaving the shards to dig and slice into the hacker's back. Bright, arterial blood flowed through Noah's lips as he sputtered to gain control of the situation as flickers of algorithms and coding assemblies oozed from his muddled thoughts like a punctured battery. His glasses flung from the bridge of his nose and left to shatter against the limestone, his myopic eyes toiled to look past the red and orange flames burgeoning from Kid Devil's maw in order to take in the cool malice that danced around the half-demon's tawny eyes.

"Y'never did get it, did ya, smart guy?" taunted a voice that didn't belong to either Noah or the veteran Teen Titan. "There's no hidin' in the past or future for ya. You can damn well make sure that I'll make sure of that!"

Linda had to leap backwards to avoid cracking heads with Noah as she roused the sleeping hacker back to full consciousness, the columnist and young mother letting out a somewhat-muffled shriek in response to the close call. Letting out a breath of relief despite her sudden worry, the Korean-American stood quiet and still as she worked alongside her husband's current accomplice and former enemy to bring her thoughts back to order. "You were having a nightmare, Noah," she gasped out, her usually strong hands fluttering as she continued to try to slow down her heartbeat. "You were just thrashing and screaming. . ."

"Yeah, this guy _really _looks like a match for Oracle," mused Lois Lane-Kent, her dubious, almost smug tone startling Noah and drawing an annoyed stare from her russet-skinned colleague. Still, just as the Pulitzer Prize winner had anticipated, her arrogant delivery compelled The Calculator into the task of pulling himself together as quickly as he could. "Don't worry. There's no real need for any formal introduction, Noah Kuttler," she continued on as she looked upon the middle-aged computer wonk while he adjusted his black suspenders. "That is, unless you want to elucidate upon your longtime friendship with Bruce Wayne or the diagnosis of what was dubbed an incurable state of obsessive-compulsive disorder shortly after your posting a score of 200 on the Wechsler IQ scales shortly after your tenth birthday."

Noah managed to register the mixture of shock and dismay on Linda's face while keeping the bulk of his attention upon his challenger, the urge to give in to his nervous habit of cleaning his spectacles momentarily cast aside. "I find no need for that, Miss Lane-Kent," he smartly countered. "Unless, of course, you would like to counter with how you have spent the last decade employing your military connections to protect your husband's secret identity from the free press that you so frequently and publicly espouse. After all, I put a great deal of effort into the retrieval of the collected phone transcripts of the late General Samuel Lane and I must confess that I could do with a bit of help when it comes to deciphering his obviously secondhand intentions."

Lois returned the unflinching gaze she received with an equally steadfast smirk, the entertainment value that came with finding a worthy nemesis setting a sparkle to her lavender eyes.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – Central Meeting Room – 2:05 A.M._

Batman couldn't be sure whether it was the extensive list of charges or theoverwhelmingl_y _obnoxious responses that some of his former colleagues provided to go along with thembut the fact remained that he began to feel a dull, lingering ache festering at the base of his long-repaired spinal cord as the seconds passed by slow and thick. Still, he quickly dismissed the plausibility of phantom pains and the psychology that went along with them and chose to devote his thoughts to admiring how Barbara had managed to collect so much information on them despite Noah's diligent defensive work. Granted, it was only a matter of connecting a well-shrouded but still fairly gathered cluster of metaphorical dots but he could still feel the return of the wellspring of respect he held for the woman he had known since she was a gangly teenager snooping on her father's work affairs. He wondered if that message could be properly delivered through their separate masks, especially after so much time apart.

Bruce could only attribute the regret of his suspected failure to a byproduct of another foolish mistake as Superman took over the procession once again. "Batman, I want to hear your perspective on these matters but not until I ask one question," he began, the Kryptonian's heavy brow knitted over with concern. "If even a portion of these accounts are true then you have actively chosen to hide your activities from our eyes, even going so far as to convince others to help you hide your involvement in illegal activities." He quickly broke his eyes away from the small pile of papers collected about his place on the table and fixed his longtime friend with a steady gaze. "Bruce. After everything that happened with Brother Eye. . . In Metropolis. . ."

Batman resisted the urge to bristle in the face of the potent cocktail of honesty, concern, and hypocrisy and looked Superman square in the eye. "The Brother Eye satellite was my chosen reaction to the illegal and immoral activities performed by certain members of this organization, men and women that were not punished in the least by any of the global agencies that the Justice League is supposed to answer to. . ."

"Oh, here we go again!" Green Arrow spat back, the temptation to make a scene apparently too much for the hot-headed archer to avoid any longer. "We take a couple minutes from you from a decade ago and that's supposed to be your explanation for everything you've done behind our backs?"

The Dark Knight of Gotham City stoked the fire by totally disregarding the Star City-based vigilante and focusing only on Kal-El. "I'm not about to deny that Brother Eye was a mistake. In fact, I can assure you that I have paid for that misdeed greatly and will continue to do so each and every day," he answered, his words earning a somewhat muffled scoff from Oliver Queen and a hardened gaze from Diana. "And my supposed criminal offenses aside, allow me to state right here and now that none of my colleagues, whether they are present here today or are understandably absent, will claim that they assisted me regardless of their own volition. Moreover, I am not here to answer or apologize for the activities of myself or my team in accordance to whatever code of honor that you are attempting to establish on your own but rather to present my actions in regards to ensuring the safety of that planet you so frequently look down upon."

"That's rich," Ollie managed to blurt out before Clark and Diana managed to shush him. The quick silence gave Batman a nasty idea as he finally regarded his longtime colleague.

"Funny, Oliver. I didn't see the people of Star City complaining when I brought your city back from the ashes."

Dinah managed to surprise quite a few people by getting to her feet before Ollie could spring to his own as she sprung to block the path between her former lover and her longtime friend. "That was completely unnecessary, Bruce," she said with as little condescension as she could muster, her firm but gentle hand physically bringing The Green Arrow back to his seat while her steely, blue eyes provided the mental half to make the order stick.

"Agreed. We've already spent far too much time focusing on accusations and looking for other people to blame," Superman agreed, a sharp look from his usually gentle gaze quickly rendering The Green Arrow quiet once again. :Today is going to be about finding out the facts."

Batman was kind enough to subdue his snort while steepling his fingers. "Ask me any question and I will tell you no lies, Kal-El," the detective answered back, his employment of Superman's born name not rousing the slightest of reactions from his secondary target. "Of course, you're also the only one here who can serve as his own lie detector test."

A slight boom resounded through the room as a tightly clenched fist slammed against the taller of the two metal tables. "Yes, you'll just have other people doing the lying for you," Wonder Woman said coldly, the Amazonian clearly putting in a great deal of her diplomacy to keep herself from rising to her feet as well. "Good people like J'onn and Dinah and even the person you claim to call your adopted son! Time and time again you have waged unchecked wars upon whatever battleground you choose while using whatever resources you could find and we allowed it because you had assured us that there was nothing you respected more than upholding the laws of justice and the sanctity of human life. Now you've broken that bond without the least hint of repentance or regards to the wishes of the people you once chose to call your peers and now you expect us to sit idly by as we pay the consequences of your actions?"

"Well, perhaps maybe you should ask one of those 'resources' about what _they_ think of all this," Nightwing threw in, the possibly exiled Justice Leaguer looking surprisingly calm amidst all the anger. "You know, if it pleases the court."

"It would indeed," Tempest replied, the junior member of The Justice League looking quite like his adopted father as he moved to speak up (complete with the chagrin, annoyance, and respect that Wonder Woman chose to shoot his way). "Nightwing, you've told us that you have not taken a life while serving as part of the. . . Misfits, I believe you called them."

"I have not," Nightwing confirmed. "We were all given that choice before we declared war on The Secret Society and none of us were coerced into changing our mind at any time or by any means," the former child acrobat made an effort to catch the eyes of each of his accusers before returning his gaze back to his longtime friend. "But I also won't deny that I served as an accessory to murder and that's something that I'm going to have to live with."

Tempest offered several seconds of still, silent scrutiny, the leader of Atlantis regarding his colleague with a neutral eye. "But yet you won't apologize for your actions as a member of The Misfits or for your deception while serving on The Justice League. And you claim that your inaction was for the better good. You stand with your adopted family rather than with us."

Nightwing couldn't resist the temptation to let out a deep sigh while stretching his long arms across the table, his long fingers just inches from sliding across the top. "I hate the fact that Bruce Wayne and so many of my friends and loved ones have chosen to take lives because of what the world has thrown at him and I hate the fact that I couldn't convince them otherwise," he replied, his tone soft but also sure and meaningful. "I hate the fact that the only way I can see us getting this world to where we want it to be is for somebody to go and make the nasty decisions instead of the ones we should be making. That being said, if what you're asking me is to betray something that J'onn believed, fought, and died for, something that my father risked his entire life to follow for the best and the worst, then I'm afraid that I can't agree to do so." The former Boy Wonder had a strong feeling that his words would invoke the memories of his old friend's struggles to stay with his own adopted father amidst the hell that Arthur had endured in his long but painful life and he hoped that the risky move would draw a sympathetic ear. "I won't betray my family."

"Spoiled little shit."

"Shut the hell up, Oliver." Dinah responded, her tone dull and hollow as she shifted her eyes away.

"No. Let him talk, Di-Di!" Nightwing insisted, his calm disposition painting a simple contrast to Oliver's snark and Bruce's cold anger. "That way he can explain why he was so interested in recruiting me onto The Justice League just a couple hours after Batman cut his ties with it. Maybe Diana can explain why metahuman-related crime levels are down to its lowest point since she was caught twisting off Maxwell Lord's head on live television? Ladies and gentlemen, I will not deny that the conduct of I and my colleagues are legally debatable at best and not at all in keeping with the standards established here but the fact remains that The Misfits are not entirely bad and the League is not entirely good."

"Then why _did _you join us?" asked Dinah, a strand of blonde hair quickly wafting in front of eyes before she managed to push it aside. "I mean, was it just so you could make up for all of J'onn's lies? Was it so important to keep the lie going that both you and Hal had to perjure yourself to the people who were proud and happy to have you here?" The questions could have been rooted in far more accusation than they were but the lack of bitterness in The Black Canary's words indicated otherwise. "I mean, I'll admit right here and now that I knew that Roy and Lian were in Gotham and I kept that information from all of you but only because the both of you had assured me that they were happy and safe!"

Nightwing took a moment to see if the Green Lantern was willing to throw in but the uncompromising silence from the left edge of the opposite table quickly informed the detective that it was still his show. "I didn't just join this team because I knew that it was something my father would have wanted me to do, Dinah. I did it because that this can be everything that I always wanted to be a part of. You are the gold standard for how the world interprets a hero and you represent the ideology that we should present and I wanted to be a part of that, with or without Batman." Dick took a moment to scan the faces of his former comrades in the hopes of finding some sympathetic ears and found himself surprised to find more than he expected. "All of you have watched me grow into whatever the hell I am now so you know enough about me to know that I'm a performer, that I live my life by always going for the highest ring I can reach and I'm not about to stop doing that."

"Well, as endearing as that may be, I think we may be getting off the point," interjected the masked tones of Barbara Gordon, her bold declaration nevertheless garnering the approval of even the most neutral of Justice Leaguers. The calm that followed allowed enough time for a series of images to appear on the monitor that served as the audiovisual link between The Watchtower and Oracle's base in downtown Metropolis. "Batman, I think we can safely say that our concerns aren't just limited to how you choose to spend your time but also with whom you choose to spend your time with." A click and a beep sounded off from the screen as the image on the upper left was magnified until it dominated much of the display. "For example, I've had the privilege of spending the last two days trying to liberate some pertinent information from the databases of one Noah Kuttler, the man that has been confirmed to be the primary information guardian and computer expert for your operation. And, while I'll admit to taking a little bit of fun from matching wits with this fellow, the simple truth is that The Calculator is still wanted for questioning in regards to his involvement in a variety of high crimes, not the least of which include selling critical information to metahuman terrorists and serving as an indirect accessory to dozens of crimes ranging from petty theft to murder."

Nightwing couldn't help but tilt his lips in response to the critical ire broadcast by his former girlfriend and longtime partner, his previous strength in the midst of the hail of accusations suddenly dwindling. He risked the chance to fire a quick, pleading look at Wally but the speedster remained surprisingly resolute, quite possibly thanks to the very real possibility that any choice he made to pick sides would possibly direct Oracle's seemingly all-revealing spotlight upon him.

Batman had no such difficulties. "I'm sure that J'onn's reports have already proven that Noah Kuttler's position as data broker to the so-called supervillain community played an integral role in limiting the effectiveness of Alexander Luthor's Society," he replied. "Additionally, I would like to remind everyone that Noah Kuttler has been absolved of any criminal wrongdoing in the eyes of the Chinese government, specifically by the chief justice of the Hong Kong consulate."

"And my thanks to you for mentioning that," Oracle countered while another image took center stage upon the monitor. This one consisted of a running recording rather than a simple, still photo and that only added to the strength of what was to come. "I'm hoping that you won't go so far as to deny that the dismissal of Kuttler's crimes was thanks in no small part to the connections between Hong Kong's justice department and the executive board of Tenryu Enterprises, at the top of which is none other than Scandal Savage. . ." The master of the Watchtower informational nexus allowed some time for both the judges and the accused to observe the video recording of Bruce speaking with the aforementioned daughter of Vandal Savage before shifting it to a later portion of the same recording. "Here she is flaying away some Society members alongside her team, The Secret Six, and one Lloyd Thomas, another one of your esteemed associates. Interestingly enough, both The Black Dog and The Secret Six managed to receive similar bits of mercy from Hong Kong upon Scandal's unexpected ascendency to the top of Tenryu Enterprises shortly after the death of Mao Tenryu."

Cecilia's eyes widened upon registering that Batman took in the potentially damning information with stone-cold silence. Feeling a nervous itch sneaking up from her gut and into her chest, she caught the slow, satisfactory sneer shining from Green Arrow's face as she turned to her right.

"Um, Wally. I think I liked it better when she was on our side," she whispered, her potentially unprofessional response apparently lost to The Flash as his face continued to pale.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Wayne Manor – Kitchen – 2:11 A.M._

Edward Nigma slowly adjusted the narrow rim of his lime-green bowler as he examined the situation to the most concentrated detail, the former petty supervillain and current private investigator to the stars feeling quite determined to display his prognosticating prowess after the humiliation he had endured at the hands of that accursed archer. He quickly shifted his attention from one target to the next, his sharp mind anticipating just what his foes would have in store for him while simultaneously perusing his own arsenal and the potential that it held. His exceptional thought patterns were working quickly to determine the most efficient manner with which to defeat his opponents eventually, if not on this junction alone, but a familiar conflict born from decades of failure and inevitable misjudgment began to enter the fray like an unwanted weed in the well-manicured garden of his psychoses. The confusion brought about by the conundrum threatened to shift his smooth, arguably handsome features into a nervous frown as he continued to weigh his current options. Finally, recognizing his own limitations and the necessity of overcoming them, he let out a tired breath as he laid himself out on the line, the gesture another step towards ensuring what he believed to be his eventual and rightful triumph.

"I apologize," he began, "but is this chocolate raisin worth more or less than this oddly unhealthy peanut butter and pretzel concoction?" The Riddler frowned as he was accosted by a series of groans and other signs of discontent as the contest ground down into another unwanted halt. "Well, the simple fact remains that the rules you have established for this are ludicrously complex given the simplicity of the competition itself. I mean, the mere notion that one would be able to determine the proper value of such a wide variety of unhealthy edibles simply by being told about them on a small handful of occasions is a ridiculous notion, particularly when you consider my previous stressors and the potential tension within the activities at hand."

"Oh, quit your ten-dollar whingin', ya poncy poofter," The Black Dog spat out while throwing his pair of cards down onto the already cluttered table. "Okay, how about we just make every bit of candy and cracker the same value?" he then reasoned, his unencumbered hands revealed to his audience in order to display both his willingness to negotiate and his power as a leader. "That way we can deem the value of whatever we throw out to our own discretion an' everybody's got a better shot at gettin' wot they want."

Nigma responded with a cautionary look that held the sympathy he was attempting to feel for the lesser thoughts of his comrades. "Mister Thomas, how do you expect all of us to renegotiate the terms of this contest in the middle of said event and expect to accept the terms of victory of whoever happens to win?" he asked while shaking his head back and forth in dismay. "Honestly, if we devolve into that form of ideology then we are no better than barbarians."

"Well, y'know, the whole barbarian idea is beginning to sound like a plan to me," Stephanie grumbled, the Green Lantern punctuating her disgust by tossing a trio of peanut M&M's onto the small pile at the center of the table. She made sure to catch Nigma's eyes before taking a thick bite of the turkey leg clutched in her right hand, the look of disgust on the detective's face serving as her own visual symphony. "That way I would have a decent excuse to skin you and offer up your skeleton to Neron for a new Malibu," the Gotham-based Robin then added around a mouthful of food. "Gotta dig all the leg room those suckers have given the low, low price."

The Riddler found that he had to turn his attentions away from the vulgar girl in order to appease his quarreling stomach acids. "Unnecessarily grisly threats aside, I feel compelled to ask why all of you are not listening in on Wayne's hearing? After all, each of your lives will doubtlessly be affected by the trial's outcome."

"What the hell is that gonna accomplish?" Arsenal spat back before taking a sip from the cup of black coffee that Alfred had been so kind to provide. "I mean, it's not like the three of us are going to change what we do for a living no matter what the outcome is so there's really no use stressing about it." The red-headed sharpshooter managed to keep his smile as he moved to chase the slug of caffeine with a quick sip from Lloyd's supposedly spare bottle of Guinness. "Flush, Jack high."

"Four of a kind," Nigma coolly countered while adding his own pair of sevens to the five uncovered cards at the center of a table.

"Fuuuuuck!" Stephanie sharply shrilled out while throwing the product of her bluff onto the table. "Why did I go into that when I knew I couldn't get shit. Shit! Shit! Shitshitshitshit!"

"Hey, language!" Roy cautioned while waggling his right ring finger at his profane compatriot. "If I'm gonna get some time to spend with my little princess then I also deserve not having to put up with your foul behavior in her presence!"

The fair-haired Gothamite responded by rolling her eyes at the hypocritical defense while moving to make her own inspection of the aforementioned 'little princess'. Just as she had expected, it didn't take much to see that Arsenal's words were for naught given that Lian Harper was busy checking out the foot-and-a-half long barrel of the enormous gun that her father had casually left on the table, the young lady's left eye shut so that her right eye could take in whatever she was perusing a little bit more efficiently. "Look, I know I'm not Mom of The Year but should she really be playing around with that thing?"

"Says the sprout who stole my rocket launcher last week to go duck hunting," Roy snapped back while leaning to his left and ruffling his daughter's hair. "No worries, guys and gals. That energy pistol is voice-activated only. It won't let so much as an electron come out to play without my say so."

"Another gift from the finest craftsmen this side of the Crab Nebula," Lloyd noted while employing his telepathy to gather the small crops of cards together. "You know, one would think that you're being spoiled by those Bernstein Bears about three groundbreaking weapons ago," he then pointed out before moving to polish off the last of his own beer bottle.

Roy let out a hint of a chuckle as he accepted the offered two cards from his field commander before gathering them in with a shrug of his shoulders. "Hey, I can't help it if the Karbarrans view me as their savior," he then answered Lloyd's critique with more than a hint of relish. "I mean, you've gotta admit that it's been a long time since I've taken anything from all my work that was just for me. Sooooooo why should I feel any shame for accepting a couple of gifts?"

"_Pfffff_t, Savior." Stephanie growled back while devouring a smidgen of her past winnings, the chocolate and peanut butter quickly being brought down and unable to fight back with a series of quick chomps. "You cut off a dude's hand, used it to rescue a bunch of baby bears and then ran away to let the mama and the papa bears handle the dirty work. Exactly _how _does this make you a grand liberator?"

"Hmmm, the attention-starved woman-child does make a valid point," Nigma added while accepting his cards, the calculation of his future wager already coming to form. "That being said, I would cogitate that the imperative conundrum is if you will choose to use that phallic-shaped weaponry upon Mister Queen should the need arise?"

Lloyd and Stephanie both met Roy's nervousness with upraised eyebrows as Lian allowed the Karbarran energy pistol to fall from her stubby fingers. The unlikely pair of champions then shared a worried glance as the youngster's coffee-colored face seemed to tighten with a mixture of anger and worry, the onyx-black eyes she had inherited from her mother widening with alarm.

"Mister Queen?" Lian said with a sharp enough tone to draw a shade of guilt from even Nigma. "Are you gonna use this gun on Grandpa?"

Roy did his best to soothe his daughter by bringing his right hand forward to cup her cheek, the instinctual maneuver too strong to avoid even as his fingers bumped across the bandages that still surrounded Lian's jaw line. He would have liked to think that it was the pain that came from the accidental collision that caused Lian to turn away from him but there wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to take that risk. "Pumpkin, I promise that I'm not going to fight with Grandpa Ollie," he assured both Lian and himself. "It's just that. . . Ollie's mad for a whole lot of reasons right now and he just needs some time to cool down and think things over."

"Exactly, peanut," Stephanie threw in. "Besides, I already reserved the right to roast that stupid goatee off your grandpa's chinny chinny chin."

It was all Roy could do to resist letting out a brief spout of profanity and allow Lloyd to smack the Green Lantern on the back of her head, his energies still quite devoted to taking in the uncertainty etched all over his daughter's face. He hated that the lines of doubt were so familiar and he hated that he was the biggest reason why they were there in the first place but that conflict was clearly another matter for another time.

"Hey, we are not going to leave Gotham," he said with a tone that was certain, unflinching, and (he hoped) gentle. "You're gonna have the greatest roof in the world under your head and you're gonna go to that nice school up in England and be friends with Justin and Shaloh and Knorl'tack and you'll get to come back home and see me whenever you want to when class is over, okay? I promise you that."

The glimmer of a smile that emerged on his daughter's pouty lips was more intoxicating to the former Teen Titan than any drug he could have ever gotten his blood-stained mitts on and the urge to drag more of that happiness out was too much to resist. He followed his addiction by wrapping the tips of his left thumb and ring finger around the base of his daughter's nose and gave it a little squeeze, the playful "honk" he added along with it bringing out a wave of laughter that he took in with unfettered joy. "And you're going to keep being my number one girl in all the world and there's nothing that's going to change that. . . so long as you don't ever get interested in boys."

The last, seriously-framed words brought Lian to respond with a confused frown. Shifting her eyes away from her father and toward her Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Stephanie, she noticed that she had garnered more attention than she had guessed she would. "My hand sucks, daddy. Can I have some new cards?" she asked, the question drawing some chuckles from Lloyd and Stephanie and tempting her father to move forward and kiss her on the forehead.

"No way, ya little trickster," Roy replied while taking a handful of candy from his own pile and placing it on top of Lian's already larger stack (much to The Riddler's silent dismay). The calm that followed continued lingered for several more moments as cards were divvied out, opening bets were made, and The Black Dog employed his own form of magic that allowed him to serve as both dealer and player and presented a fairly unimpressive flop to both himself and his gambling comrades.

"Well, it's not that I'm utterly uncaring of the needless showing of sympathy," Nigma interrupted to the surprise of no one. "Notwithstanding, my leading concern still requires resolution. Short of engaging in some fruitless, somewhat unconscious attempt at denial and avoidance, exactly why are the three of you choosing to play a meaningless game in the midst of such a stressful confluence of events?"

"Well, that's quite simple, Mister Nigma. We're simply having what fun we can until our friendly computer wonk calls us down to handle the latest catastrophe," Lloyd explained, the majority of The Black Dog's thoughts devoted to the question of whether or not he should grab another bottle of beer. In fact, perhaps it was that particular source of distraction that led the telepath to not noticing the look of confusion on the face of his questioner as he revealed the fourth free card.

"How can you be so certain that there's going to be a catastrophe?" The Riddler couldn't help but ask.

Now it was Stephanie's turn to sigh. "Look, Holmes Lime. You're a guest here so I'll try to be nice and explain. Something _always _happens when we try to play cards. It's like. . . an unresistable phenomenon in the space-time continuum. Like. . . the seagulls flying in to Casablanca."

The Riddler found himself tested once again as he struggled to avoid blanching in the face of the horror drawn by the young woman's explanation. "But. . . how. . . that isn't. . ."

"Hold up there, Nigma," Lloyd broke in, the telepath interrupting The Riddler's vocal bumbling and stumblings as he moved to answer his communicator. A quick series of nods followed as Roy and Stephanie sat calm and still, the two swarthy champions surprisingly patient as they waited for whatever orders there was to come. Finally there was a flurry of activity as The Black Dog rose from his chair. "All right, you lot. I'll fetch Bloomberg while you head down to the cave proper. Looks like we've got some work on our hands."

"Hah! Told ya!" Stephanie crowed readily while scooting away from the table with an ungainly slide of her chair that left a good percentage of her winnings to lurch towards the floor. Her hasty movements were quickly followed by Roy moved to give his daughter a quick hug before dashing out as well, the eldest of the three Misfits the last to leave given that their leader had already disappeared from view with a simple _pop_.

And this, inevitably, left Nigma to look upon his one remaining opponent, a nemesis who suddenly had a much larger pile of winnings than she had at the start of the hand. Furthermore, it only took a quick check of his surroundings to recognize that both Lloyd and Roy's piles of snacks had mysteriously disappeared during that previous whirl of activity and that peculiar circumstance brought him to cast a cautious glare at what he thought to be a harmless bit of prey.

Lian merely responded with a knowing smirk.

* * *

"So what is the problem with collaborating with people like The Secret Six?" Cecilia asked plainly, the young vigilante now more than ready for the fight. "I mean, I thought that part of our job was to make the world a better place to live in and maybe trying to bring some of the bad guys over to a better way of thinking just might help out with that."

"Maybe it's because Savage and her outfit are nothing but a band of killers," replied Green Arrow, his own history with Blake and the late Floyd Lawton prompting some more vitriol for the elder of the two archers. "That Cain chica may be the exception to the rule but the rest of 'em have left a nice, long trail of bodies the world over and some of 'em ain't the nasty evildoers that you guys claim to be hunting down all the time. They're not putting people in jail like you either. They're puttin' 'em in the morgue."

Cecilia turned to look upon Ollie with a surprisingly patient stare. "So what's your sudden issue with working with killers?" she said with a note of tranquility that surprised even her brooding patrol partner. "I'm a killer and I consider myself a fairly easy-going gal. Hell, you're a killer too, now that everybody's thinking about it. . ."

"That's not the issue and you know it, Arrowette," Dinah interrupted. "And, if you don't mind my asking, what compelled you to join Batman's operation in the first place? After all, I thought that the reason you chose to leave this profession in the first place was because you wanted to avoid the possibility of taking a life."

Arrowette leaned back in her chair while crossing her arms over her chest, the haughty display serving as an unnecessarily dramatic response to the persistent suspicion. "Well, I don't think it's really your business but, since you asked nicely. . ." she began cockily. "Batman approached me with the idea to join his team about four months after The Battle of Metropolis. And, just as Nightwing said, the option on whether or not to take lives in the name of duty was thrown onto the table before I even nocked an arrow. As for why I joined, well, I guess helping carry Bart and Conner's caskets sort of gave me a fresh, new perspective on the whole matter of bloodying my own hands. Y'know, that maybe I should do my part to try and prevent the kinds of things that led up to all of your screwups in the first place, yours and those of my present company included." The accusation yielded attention from all sides yet the Elias graduate weathered the stress with a patience garnered from the last several years spent working with a good but impossibly exasperating perfectionist. On the other hand, the guilt reflected on one, particular face brought her pause. "I'm sorry," she added earnestly. "I meant no disrespect."

"No, it's quite all right," Superman quickly replied while shaking his head back and forth. "As I said, this meeting is about discovering the facts and one of those truths is that we all have a great deal to answer for. That being said, The Battle of Metropolis was largely brought about by miscommunications on both sides because of a lack of trust and unity, the same kind of discord that you readily generated by your actions over the course of the last several years."

"If you will permit me, Superman," Red Tornado interceded, the cyborg quite obviously sensing that the usually calm leader of The Justice League was threatening to allow his emotions to get the better of him. "The core issue here is to recognize where each of us stand in order to most adequately shore the world's defenses. The ethical issues aside, the fact remains that the improved containment facilities in and around Gotham City have gone a long way to reducing the prevalence of criminal activity both in terms of simple street crime and the more notable operations that we are more likely to involve ourselves with. Consequently, this added deterrence has transferred metahuman-related crime hubs to areas of America that are not quite so well suited, for lack of a better term, to endure the unique consequences that superhuman combat tends to offer. The cities of Atlanta and Philadelphia have been particularly struck by an exponential increase in this field of criminal misconduct and it is reasonable to believe that the resulting fatalities and property damage brought about in those areas may not have occurred in cities such as Gotham and Metropolis.

"So what you're saying is that it's for the greater good to let the freaks run rampant in my town," Batman growled out through gritted teeth.

"What we're saying is that we could have prepared for the exodus more efficiently if we had a better idea when and why the transfer of criminal activity would occur," Superman intervened with equal conviction. "And this negligence is not just endangering the common citizens that we're supposed to report to but also putting the lives of our associates in a constant state of friction. We didn't know anything about The Sinestro Corps' plan to launch a full-scale attack on Earth until it was far too late for us to do anything about it! My city has been carried to the brink of disaster time and time again because every despot, terrorist and psychotic looking to gain revenge for what you've done to them is trying to get it through me and the people I've chosen to protect!" The heat simmering from Kal-El's eyes was palpable now, his usually blue eyes tinged with traces of red that became stronger by the second. "And I hope you realize that the blood of Jefferson Pierce, Maxine Hunkel, Ted Grant, and Jimmy Olsen are all on your hands because you've chosen to think of yourselves as being above everything. . ."

Clark's roaring allegations were cut short as a small spray of crimson-red energy struck the center of his collected paperwork and burned it to cinders. The conflagration was so quick and sudden that there wasn't even a hint of smoke rising from the rubble and the only hints that there was something there to begin with were the scant, black burn marks on the table. Superman cast a stunned look at the remnants of the display for a fraction of a second before turning his attentions to the only person in the room besides him who could pull off such a precise feet and meeting the defiant stare of his cousin as she rose to her feet, her own crystalline blue eyes not holding a trace of scarlet.

"Okay, I am officially hiding under the table," Hal Jordan said to no one in particular.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You know what, my dozens and dozens of fans? It can be kind of difficult coming up with things to talk about in this here author's note section. I mean, I would normally throw in a few witty words about what's going on in the world of comics but, to be brutally honest, I can't really think of anything to talk about. Ma. ybe it's just that The Avengers are just warming up again and the JLA is still on that long ride to nowhere and Spider-Man is still busy fighting everybody and Wolverine is in 10 different books and The Return of Bruce Wayne is hovering around the halfway point but nothing is really interesting to me right now? I personally blame it on the fact that the Jonah Hex movie bombed to a degree that not even I could anticipate. I mean. . . damn. That poor, ugly cowboy thought he could take on the combined forces of a cowboy puppet, a space ranger, and a bunch of moopy but shiny vampires?

Damn fool. Should have just went straight to video like Wonder Woman.

Oh well. Time for a next issue preview, I suppose.

* * *

_Issue #104 Preview_

Well, it looks like the friction in The Watchtower has woken up the sleeping beast that is The Last Daughter of Krypton. How will Kara respond to the threats being lobbed against her adopted family? How will Hal and Wally be able to get across their own words of peace and just what is the secret that Cecilia is waiting to spring upon the entire affair? Oh, and just what is this whole emergency with Noah about? Find out the answers to this and then some in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Time to Play The Game. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	104. Time to Play The Game

Issue #104

Time to Play The Game

_October 30th – The Batcave - 2:20 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"All right. So what the hell is that supposed to be?"

The forcibly blasé concern within Edward Bloomberg's question continued to hang about in the stale air as the bulk of the attention remained devoted to the glowing red lights that had recently sprung up over portions of Noah's electronic map. The location in question was the miles of tunnels that served as the sewer lines of the city of Metropolis yet The Calculator's sensors were not designed to make certain that everything was running smoothly but rather to identify anything that interfered with the status quo. That being said, it was Stephanie that chose to be the first to break away from the distressing scene, the young Green Lantern trying to convince herself that she could catch a glimmer of silver in Lloyd's eyes as her adopted brother continued to mull the matter over.

"Pandimensional rifts," The Black Dog identified, his countenance calm and controlled despite the unmistakable presence of a concerned edge within his West London brogue. "They're gaps that serve as the polar points between a spatial nexus and an actual, tangible dimension. Or, in this particular case, these portals are connecting our dimensional plane with the void that Neron's been employing to bring all his nasties over to our side of the field."

"I was told to look in on the manner at the behest of William Batson, as if the current calamities at hand were not enough for all of us to deal with," The Calculator added, his familiar handkerchief already being steered back into the front pocket of the hacker's starched work shirt. "He also made certain to add that these gateways will soon be prepared to carry its bounty although, for the life of me, I would have no earthly idea as to how I would be able to confirm that claim."

"Well, if that's true then why isn't old Gray Temples lending a hand here!" Stephanie snapped back, her impatient tone bringing about a tired sigh from The Misfits' informant and communications organizer. "I mean, this is pretty much his department here."

"I am told that Kal-L is already occupied with another assignment," Noah replied, his reference to the salt-and-pepper haired Superman of Earth-1 drawing a hiss of concern from the already aggrieved Robin. "And at the risk of sounding out of place, I would suppose that our first lingering concern is whether we should inform Batman of this turn of events upon a private or a public line." The potential point of controversy drew its rightful share of concerned silence that prompted Linda Park-West to briefly drift her sights towards her guest and take in the intrigued expression on Lois's face. "Because Heaven knows that the three of you aren't wise enough to simply leave well enough alone when it comes to prospective violence."

"Find a private channel that you can trust and send the information over," The Black Dog said in a decisive manner, his quick declaration prompting a bit more intrigue to eke out of Lois's otherwise stable demeanor. "All critiques aside, methinks it would be wise if we took our leave from this place and stretch our legs for a bit."

"Hold up. Wait a minute," Arsenal broke in, his long arms stretching down to his sides while his right hand was held up as a gesture of warning. "What makes you guys so certain that this is a threat that we should be taking care of in the first place, boss? I mean, this whole hullabaloo is smack dab in the middle of Superman's territory and, near as I can tell, there's no guarantee that Neron is actually involved in this. I mean, he's not the only magician around here and you _did_ say that he would probably be laying low for a little bit."

Stephanie sternly shook her head back and forth. "No, it's Neron, all right," she answered with a similar conviction already brought by Lloyd and Noah. "Roy Boy, these disturbances have the same brand that were on the portals that surrounded the monastery when it was attacked." The helpful observation steered a great deal of the available attention towards the fair-haired Gothamite and Robin responded to it with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "What? My ring is designed to pick up on things like this. Now I'm not saying that it might not be one of his bosom buddies or maybe it's the big, demonic cheese himself but the fact remains is that he's playing our song."

"Quite right," Lloyd said, his tone taking on a stiffer tenor than before. "Still, as you said, all of this does beg the question of why he's doing this now. I mean, stuff like this is going to take a lot more to pull off than a couple pentagrams and a round of soddin' Satanic Kumbayah."

"Well, he may be doing this and he might not," Robin reminded the soldiers and reporters around her while she wrapped her black cape around her slim features. "Still, all that hoohah he got from this Bane of Velius thing and whatever was dug up from his bargain with Eddie means that Neron may very well have a lot more to work with than even what we can guess. I mean, Lloyd's right. Metropolis may not be our usual place of practice but this is our fight and it's up to us to deal with it before this shitstorm just blows up and goes out of control."

"Speaking of shit, you and your little second-in-command just shoveled up a whole load of it, young lady."

All eyes turned to Lois Lane-Kent only a moment after she had made her bold declaration, her slim arms crossed across her black blouse. The looks given to her mixed between fiercely harsh and doggedly critical but the lavender-eyed reporter managed to waft her intentions solely towards the apparent leader of the pack while continuing to plead her point. "With all due respect, Mister Thomas," she added with only a hint of a depreciatory manner. "I've been in the newspaper business since I stopped wearing training bras and I know a public relations campaign when I see one. You're figuring that if you can shut whatever this is down before the League knows about it then you'll improve your case for when my husband and the rest of his chums finally render their verdict on Bruce."

The Black Dog didn't blink in the face of the reporter's unflinching indictment, the Brit having apparently found a hint of his own strength in the midst of the tension around him. "Call me Lloyd, madam. And, at the risk of sounding unkind, I'd advise you to stop assuming someone else's intentions, particularly the purposes of a bloke you've never met and especially considering the old saying about what happens when one assumes." The stand-in field commander of The Misfits allowed an unnecessarily large allotment of time for the obviously bright reporter to give the matter some thought before adding, "That being said, exactly how would you respond if you were correct in guessing that we were setting out to do what you have accused us of?"

Lois allowed herself a prim smile. "Well, far be it from me to deride someone else for putting themselves in harm's way as a means of getting attention. Still, you'd do well to remember that saving Metropolis isn't going to get you enough points to make my husband forget that you've been boinking his cousin behind his back."

"Okay, okay. Hold on a second here," Arsenal butted in as the significant others of Earth's only two Kryptonians shared a knowing smile. "Now I'm all for bold, showy displays of stupidity but let's think about this. I mean, your powers are still on the fritz and we don't know what we're going to be getting ourselves into!"

"Well, when the hell has that ever stopped us before?" Robin barked back in mild disbelief. "I mean, what we're doing is called 'being an advance party'," she added while taking a moment to analyze the energy remaining within her ring. "We're going to sniff around down in Metropolis to try to see what kind of fishy stuff is going on down there and, if we can't handle it, we'll just run off and come back with enough people to take care of it. We've done this, oh, about a hundred times now?"

Arsenal responded to the fairly logical, albeit condescending argument with an upraised middle finger. "I know what an advance party is but what if something big and bad shows up and Lloyd's demon buddy decides to trake another powder?"

Lloyd didn't even bother to try and hide his disdain. "I've got damn near a decade's worth of experience in swordplay and magic from the best teacher that unholy magic and inhuman science could provide, Harper. 'S not like I'm bleedin' helpless." It didn't take much for The Black Dog to recognize that the red-haired sharpshooter wasn't fully convinced by his explanation and he couldn't help but feel distressed that his first strike hadn't met with an immediate success. "Besides, if worst comes to worst then you'll just save my hide. Bugger knows I've saved the both of you enough times to deserve some select treatment."

"Can I come along?"

"No," Lloyd, Roy, and Stephanie replied nearly simultaneously, the acoustics of the catacombs leaving the triplicate declaration to sound like a resounding boom that only added to the downcast tinge in the brave, soldier face that Eddie Bloomberg provided in return. "Um, what I mean is that Neron is still after you, Kid Devil," The Black Dog then added, the half-demon cursing himself for the hasty judgment call. "Right now the best thing that you can do to protect the people you care for is to stay safe."

"Yeah," Stephanie threw in with a bit more cheer, her ring creating the spectral image of an oven mitt that would allowed her to safely rub a bulging bit of muscle along the cleft between Kid Devil's shoulder blades. "After all, we want to get you back to Rosie all safe, well, and readily shaggable," she added in a bright tone that brought a bright pink tinge to Bloomberg's normally crimson-red cheeks.

"Well, then allow me to throw in my own opposition towards this plan of action," The Calculator said stiffly. "After all, your leaving would effectively put the roots of our operations in the hands of myself, two newswomen, a butler, three children, an unwilling servant of the greater demon you're looking to impede and a preposterously attired obsessive-compulsive with an ego the size of Wayne Tower!"

"Gee, ya sure you didn't include yourself twice there?" Robin couldn't help but ask, her effrontery securing her an exasperated glare from the MIT alumnus.

"Relax, Brain Guy. I managed to get a good handle on that situation before I even bothered to come down 'ere," Lloyd said, his gentle tone giving his elder colleague a slight sense of relief. "All right, you scurrilous scallywags, get ready to move!"

"Roger!" Roy and Stephanie both chimed in as one before dashing towards the sizeable portion of dug out limestone on the eastern side of the catacombs, the spot of their headquarters long organized as the most expedient source point for teleporting in and out of Bruce Wayne's longtime center of operations. This departure inevitably left Lloyd to be alone with Eddie, Linda, Lois and Noah and the British half-demon moved to wrap Linda in a quick, one-armed embrace while continuing to keep his mind on other matters.

"_You recognized the bloke that attacked you in your dreams," _he noted as the black hair on top of Linda's head tickled his chin. _"And now you're coming along to the same theory that Bruce has had ever since Sabbac showed up at the monastery," _he then added before firmly shaking Bloomberg's hand.

"_Indeed_," Noah replied through the telepathic link, the hacker endeavoring to remain calm and undetached as the source of the unusual form of communication moved to shake Lois's hand. _"It seems that Neron actually did see fit to prepare a counterpart for even me."_

Lloyd looked back to fire a quick smirk at the bespectacled fellow, a familiar recognition flashing back and forth between a pair of gentlemen who had spent more than their fair share of time in morally turbulent moments such as these. _"Ya shouldn't think so little of yourself, Kuttler," _he replied while turning his back to his fretful compatriot. _"You're the one who tells us what we have to hear, after all."_

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – 2:22 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Theodore Roosevelt once said that man, for all their posturing and ignorance of the obvious, would never allow themselves to believe that they were nothing more than animals until life forced them to do so. And, like all animals, much of humanity made certain to adopt an instinct for recognizing the most dominant creature in the environment around them; the alpha-male for definitive lack of the term needed at the present time. That truth could be covered up by bluster and self-deceit but the fact remained that there would always be moments when the most powerful of the herd would make its presence felt and break through the allegations of the pretenders.

Kara Zor-el chose to create one of those moments as she rose to her feet. The slightest expression or physical movement made by the half-Kryptonian, half-Praxian freak of nature immediately demanded every bit of attention from those around her regardless of whether they willingly chose to devote it at the first opportunity. Wonder Woman briefly fired back with a scowl of silent and scornful defiance while Batman remained silent and waiting for something worse as Superman tried and failed to fight back the fragments of misery that were threatening to break through his stone-cold countenance but none of them could have hoped to gain control of the situation in the present time. Even The Green Arrow moved forward in his seat in an inexplicable attempt to try and bring down the fair-haired extraterrestrial but a deathly cold glare from The Last Daughter of Krypton forced Oliver Queen's words back away from his lips and somewhere down below his lungs. The simple gesture, while putting some of her onlookers on the cusp of fight or flight, did manage to remove the dissatisfaction on the face of Kara's former teacher as Diana suddenly decided to patiently await what was to come, the longtime ambassador quite interested in seeing what had become of the shy, explosively-tempered girl that Kal-El had brought to Themyscira's shores only three years ago.

"First of all, there's no need for any one of us to point out the blood on the hands of anyone else in this room. Pardon me if I'm asking too much of us but I believe that it's reasonable to have faith in the idea that all of us are intelligent enough to recognize the burdens that each of us bear. Thusly, the only reason why anybody on either side of this argument would want to accuse otherwise should be viewed as nothing more than an act of pettiness designed to gain an advantage in an argument that they're not sure how to win." Kara could easily make out the look the twitch of disbelief that lined Wally's jaw and the forced stillness in Batman's entire posture but she chose to give the matter little mind as she briefly shut her eyes before opening them wide. "So allow me to thank my cousin for being the first one on either side to step up and point out why we're really here."

Superman softly cleared his throat before pushing on. "Kara. . . it was wrong for me to accuse. . ."

"It's all right, Kal," Kara quickly countered, her unyielding tone bringing a quick but gentle rest to Superman's unnecessary apology as she broke free from the restraints of the defense table, her long legs easily carrying her to the center of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I recognize that I have not lived and learned as long as many of you but I believe I've learned enough to understand that so much of our lives are based off what we expect from the world. For example, my father expected me to come to Earth in order to quench a desire that he could not complete. He wanted me to eliminate the child of his hated rival and lay waste to whatever home Kal-El would land upon in order to provide an example of his genius and to display the superiority of the Kryptonian race even when it had become little more than a footnote in the pages of history."

Kara took a moment to absorb the shock and attention provided by her audience before offering back a laconic smile. "Needless to say, that didn't exactly come to pass. Still, the fact remained that what my father had planned for me was a long ways away from what I was hoping to receive and that truth forced me to respond to what he saw in me, to make a choice about what I wished to do with I life and I turned towards the path I'm on with very few regrets." There was a scant of a second when the crystalline blue eyes of Zor-el's daughter drifted towards the floor but it was soon erased as their owner gathered her confidence back with a seemingly well-practiced ease. "We all have intentions and hopes and dreams that we want and maybe even expect from our lives and so much of our time is spent steering our own little portions of the world towards what we want our lives to be. My cousin wants to live in a world that doesn't need a Superman while Diana wants to usher humanity into a world where they are free to express and present their utmost potential and Bruce wants to make certain that no one will ever have to experience the pain and loss he has been forced to carry since he was a child and each of them all succeed and fail every day and, just like the rest of us, they respond to the triumph and frustration that comes with it."

"So what the hell are you tryin' to say here?" Oliver Queen couldn't help but ask, his loud candor prompting some of the people around him to startle in surprise. "Life sucks so get a helmet and shut up?"

"I'm saying that none of us anticipated the events that have brought us to the point where we can't even look at one another without telling a lie!" Kara countered, the tone she employed to silence Green Arrow's complaints a great deal gentler than what she had employed just moments before. "We didn't recognize that Alexander Luthor's Society would annihilate Star City! We couldn't have predicted that the world would have to rely on Themyscira to hold off The Sinestro Corps until we could muster the strength to form a counteroffensive and there was no way of knowing for certain that Metropolis would become the focal point of so much of the madness of the last few years because, if we could, then all of us would have done something about it! We are all here because we want the best for the world that we've chosen to call our home!"

"That is a noble sentiment, Kara Zor-el," Diana provided, her own sapphire eyes glowing with her own strength and determination. "I would advise you to remember those words when you're asked to explain to my sisters why so many of their comrades and loved ones were forced to lay down their lives on a battlefield that was never fully their own." The Amazon's anger was bubbling but still focused as Wonder Woman steered her eyes from Kara to Bruce to Hal. "Tell a civilization that has managed to endure for a thousand lifetimes why they are on the brink of extinction thanks to the crimes and misfortunes of people that have nothing to do with them."

"Don't try to delude yourself into believing that Themyscira is as wholly innocent as you claim it to be," Batman informed his longtime friend and rival, the detective's fingers still tensed and pressed against one another. "Your home is not the only one to suffer at the hands of monsters and saints alike, Diana."

"But that doesn't make it right!" Diana seethed, the rage that the proud warrior poured into her words directed just as much to herself as it was to anyone else around her. That realization provoked a look of deep sympathy and regret from Batman that Wonder Woman took in with all the sadness she could muster. "I'm. . . I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have. . ."

"None of us should have but we did!" Kara exclaimed, the sure-hearted woman easily taking control of the metaphorical spotlight. "All of us keep on searching for ways to excuse our own mistakes by trying to prove that at least we're better than somebody else. All of you look down at the world from your satellites and elaborate mansions while proclaiming that you want a better world while insisting that your way of thinking is the only way that it will happen. That, in turn, leads people like Amanda Waller to think of you as ridiculous grandstanders and employ their annoyance as the fuel for doing all the shadowy, underhanded things they're responsible for because they can convince themselves that somebody has to do what you won't!"

Kara finally twisted her eyes away from her suddenly cautious judges in order to sweep an arm to indicate her adopted family. "And then there's us, people who have gotten so damn proud of being able to straddle the line between the two extremes you've established that they don't even think it's necessary to report to anyone else! And there's two things that each of these sides have in common: they're all wrong in one way or another and that they're actions are guided by a genuine desire to make life better for those who are willing to live it! There has to be good people that can set an example for others to live by and there has to be good people who are willing to put their souls on the line to fight the wars that can't be fully told but if the people on both sides aren't willing to talk to each other, to realize that they ultimately have to meet somewhere near the middle, then tragedies like Star City and Themyscira are going to keep on happening again and again!"

Kara was almost unpleasantly surprised that she was still allowed a sizeable degree of control over the floor even after she had said what she thought to be her piece. Letting out a deep, clearing breath that allowed her fluttering heart to slow its pace, she suddenly recognized the necessity of recapturing the attention of Bruce, Diana, Dick, and Ollie, the four most vocal dissenters against what she was hoping to achieve. That duty done, she returned to her seat at the lower of the two tables with slower, less determined steps than what she had employed before, the tenacity of the past several minutes apparently draining even her near-boundless supply of energy. Still, that dilapidation wasn't enough to keep her from recognizing that there was something else and she looked up at the surrounding crowd once again.

"I want the deceit and the trickery to stop. I want us to work together so that we can achieve together what we can't do on our own. And, when those mistakes we make eventually happen, I want us to be able to look one another in the eye and understand the why rather than simply go straight to blaming the whom. I want this but. . . I have no idea how to make that happen. I need your help to make this happen but don't expect me to give up on or take shame from what I have done. Far too much of my life has been spent accepting or being forced to cater to the whims of others and I'd rather die fighting for my own beliefs than be forced to simply accept someone who won't even bother to listen to what I have to say."

* * *

_October 30th - Metropolis - 6.7 miles west and 200 meters below the lobby of The Daily Planet -_ _1:45 A.M. Central Standard Time_

Roy had long come to recognize that The Misfits had adopted their fair share of traditions. They each had their own assigned nicknames whose source points largely remained unknown (occasionally even to the person who created it in the first place). They all made it a point to find one time in the day where they could all be together and do nothing (with the occasional broody and bat-oriented exception). And. lastly, Stephanie always found something to bitch about whenever they were somewhere other than Gotham City. It didn't matter whether they were witnessing the glory of the gleaming citadels of Oa or the rolling jade fields of Northern Ireland or even the metropolitan haven that was Lian's first genuine home, the fact remained that the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns would never fail at finding something she could find fault in and pick it apart to her great satisfaction.

And, given where they were, it wouldn't have been hard to guess that the current Robin would make certain that she could get on quite a roll.

"You know, you never see any of those national news crews come down here! Nooooo, they just take a look at all the pretty office buildings and zoned out trees that are supposed to pass for parks and those stupid vintage telephone booths!" There was a slightly brighter tint than usual to the light that surrounded Stephanie's right hand as she ventured forward, the sharp, emerald glow of her ring lighting the way through the otherwise sparsely lit sewer tunnels. "I mean, why the hell would anyone need a phone booth with a door?"

"Well, I thought that everyone deserved at least a little bit of privacy," Roy calmly replied while checking the energy cartridge of his Karbarran-crafted pistol.

"I mean, did you see the copy of their annual city budget? They spent fifty million dollars renovating rest stops. Fucking rest stops!" Stephanie exclaimed, the halfway-legitimate response fired back by her comrade-in-arms receiving hardly a whit of attention. "This city can waste millions of dollars trying to help develop the flying car and making themselves look nice and pretty in front of other people but yet they still can't find enough money to fully finance their schools. I mean, think about it!"

"Well, I'm sorry but I just can't come to the hypocrisy right now." Arsenal endeavored. "But, after the tone, feel free to take a second and think about why you don't get invited onto more stealth missions."

"Well, how about you think about sucking on a leprechaun taint, Quick Draw McGraw," Stephanie countered with a snarl, the sound of two pairs of boots slogging through the fetid water below making her grubby retort sound warbled within the narrow pipeline. "'Cause if I have to go to Metropolis then I reserve the right to complain about it. That's my rights as a proud Gothamite."

Arsenal couldn't help but let out a sigh while continuing to expunge the theme of a foppish gun slinging horse out of his head. "Yes, and I'm mostly letting you get away with it because you're all stressed out and worried about Bruce," he replied with what he hoped to be an understanding candor. "However, I would like to know why Lloyd and I are hoofing it through these crud-encrusted tunnels with a side order of sewer water while you apparently just get to hover over it all!" The sharpshooter punctuated his point by lashing out with his right foot and sending a gush of brownish-green water straight at his occasionally charming nemesis.

"Hey! Watch it!" Robin squawked back, the glittering emerald energy cocoon she managed to summon just before the water could make contact illuminating the surroundings even further. "That's just unprofessional bitching, you know. Besides, if you didn't want to go through all this plebian slogging then you should have just kept that alien's hand back on Karbarra. . ."

It was a credit to the angels of Lloyd Thomas's nature that he had managed to blot out the seemingly unending squabbling of his two noisy comrades. Of course, the lingering siren song that Neron had left for him managed to provide quite the distraction, the familiar traces of supernatural energy growing in intensity with every footstep that brought them closer to where they needed to go. Nearly a decade's worth of training to be the eldritch equivalent of a bloodhound had almost made this activity into something of a second nature where the act of rooting out the discrepancies from the status quo of the world around him had become almost as easy as breathing.

"You know, you don't see the boss man here being all high and mighty about the poo gas," Arsenal countered with a somewhat imperious tone in his delivery. "And he's the one who's busy leading us to where we need to go!"

"No, _I'm _leading us to where we need to go! _He's _busy doing his overly broody Batman impersonation," Robin gamely replied, the complaints of the red-haired gunman finally convincing her to place her feet back down on the ground. "Oh, and I'm completely out of here if he breaks into Christian Bale-voice."

That being said, the recognition that he was performing these tricks without the aid of The Condemner's power was something that wasn't quite so natural to Lloyd and the scarce supply of opportunities to engage in this particular predicament managed to poke at The Black Dog's psyche despite the diligence the half-demon employed to avoid having it happen. Was this dissention simply the result of the breaking of the mystical connections over the course of time? After all, even Lugae himself had confessed to recognizing that such a one-sided connection between man and demon had never been fully accomplished before he had devoted the latter half of his life to making it happen. Was his fear of the overwhelming degree of control the mad scientist held over his life for so long simply enough to convince him that there was no way that Lugae could have been wrong about his final results?

"Are you still whining about that whole rumor that Christian Bale was going to play Owlman? Jeez, sprout! That rumor got put to the flame a month-and-a-half ago!"

"I'll be concerned about it if I want to be concerned about it! I mean, it's bad enough that all those Hollywood losers think that Owlman is Batsie's brother or father or some shit! The last thing I need is for people to start thinking that the overacting hambone from _American Psycho _would make a good Batman!"

Perhaps the worst part of it all was that he wasn't even certain if Za'hafal-nesh was in the right or the wrong in terms of this willing disregard. Though Lloyd certainly knew that he had never asked to endure the years of torture and isolation that allowed the phenomenal powers of The Condemner to fall under his control, he had always considered himself open to what the eons-old entity had to offer. What would his life have become if Immanuel Lugae had not brought about this dark reunion? Before he was a boy abandoned by his father and left an orphan by his mother to survive on the streets of London and the prospects of that were varied and the outcomes were undetermined but the outlook certainly didn't seem to bode well. He certainly would have never come upon such a vital purpose and it was quite likely that he would have never found such a supportive family by his side or such a wonderful woman that he could share so much of his fears with under the warmth and comfort of the early morning.

"Look, will you just shut up a second so I can get my shit together before something bad goes down?"

"Fine," Stephanie snapped back. "But we're starting up this argument again when we get back to the manor."

What made him think that he deserved so much of a sliver of what he had received already?

Lloyd finally let out a shushing noise as a quick order for his comrades to be silent as the three of them crept their way into what appeared to be a long-abandoned switching station, the surrounding sights and scents of rust and mildew providing a strong sign that this portion of Metropolis's underbelly had long been abandoned for a more efficient theater of operations. A wayward moth fluttered past The Black Dog's eyes, the misguided creature flickering its tiny wings in order to make its way towards the purplish-black glow of the portal that surrounded the base of the central console. The sight was more than enough to twist his sights away from the insect as he took in the familiar series of interlocking pentagrams that had become Neron's supernatural signature. A slow instant passed as the fine hairs on his arms begun to bristle and rise up slightly as a familiar flood of power suddenly coursed through his blood, the dark energy of The Condemner flaring back to life as the intangible porticos began to pulse and swirl. The second-in-command of The Misfits would have quite liked to question this turn of events but soon found his answer as nearly a dozen demons sprung forward from the trio of gates in front of him, the beasts ranging in menace from snarling Fyarl beasts to a trio of brown-scaled gargoyle-like monstrosities whose leathery wings took to the relatively limited amount of air they had available to them before being employed to glide gracefully towards their prey.

"Wow. Isn't it so nice that they waited on us?" Arsenal asked over the orderly hum of his Karbarran energy pistol as it sent out an energy ray that seared away the tough flesh surrounding the rib cage of the closest Wingtullus demon, the hasty damage enough to bring the avian beast crashing down onto its spike-covered back. "I mean, I know I'm not an expert on this but I'm thinking that you don't just get that kind of courtesy from any old hell beast!"

Lloyd could already smell the blood that stained his gleaming silver saber even as he twisted the short blade of the _Mugalshir _to lop off the head of one of the gargoyle-like demons with a leaping slash before employing his telekinesis to fling the blade directly through the spine of another as it passed underneath him. It didn't surprise him in the least to discover that the portals around them continued to deliver their payload as more and more of Neron's minions clambered, leapt, or flew through the passageways. What did give him a hint of skepticism was the matter of how softly his feet hit the ground from his previous leap, the sudden smoothness of his movements from the perspective of his own senses making it look as if the surrounding gravity had shifted against his favor.

"Hey, am I the only one noticing that these guys are moving a little fast?" asked Robin, the busy Green Lantern having obviously seen what Lloyd had observed despite the distraction of swinging her energy claws into any repugnant beast the emerald blades could reasonably get a hold of.

The Black Dog noticed that he had to fire off a quick force barrier to buy him some time to think, his vision momentarily blurring as he simultaneously employed his telepathy to convince a minotaur to not try and bury the business end of his war club through Roy's skull. "'S not them moving fast, Tweety. It's us moving slow!" he noted while keeping an eye on Arsenal as his all-too-human comrade brought his pistol to bear with agonizing slowness. "Someone's tryin' to give this lot an advantage by muckin' about with time."

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – 2:29 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"If it would interest the court, I would like to pursue my own line of inquiry while the rest of you are allowed the time to process what has already been said," suggested Red Tornado, the android's stark, even delivery managing to bring a slight sense of calm to the surroundings as the machine brought its gleaming yellow lenses to bear on one of his former comrades. "Flash, I would like to request your reasoning behind aligning yourself with The Batman and his forces given your past aversions toward similarly group-based operations. The data acquired by Oracle and myself clearly indicate that you did not join their ranks until months after the team's inception and the group's raison-d'etre clearly flies in the face of how you have typically behaved as a member of the superhero community. Additionally and given your brief association with the Justice League Elite, one could easily reason that you would not be remotely comfortable with working alongside a group that would willingly endorse taking lives while in the line of duty."

Wally let out a sigh as he leaned back against his chair. The verbose delivery and the sudden fact that he was in the spotlight might have been disconcerting but the simple fact was that he had waited so long to plead his case that he was almost happy to be in it. "There's a lot of reasons behind it, Reddy," the speedster easily replied. "I guess the one at the top of the list is that it was Barry's last wish. I guess after spending so much time away from the game and watching me willingly do the same that he wanted me to be in a place where he thought that either one of us could have done the most good."

The Flash was prepared to explain things a little further but an unconvinced "hmmmm" brought him to a quick stop. "That one seems to be a little hard to swallow, junior," confessed Oliver Queen, the curmudgeonly archer not sounding nearly as he had with Batman or Nightwing. "Hard to believe that Mister Conservative Copper himself would take a liking to somebody who shot first and asked questions later."

_As if you're one to talk_, Wally was halfway ready to snipe back before the gentility of Ollie's previous suggestion brought him down. "There's always more to being a cop than putting the bad person behind bars," he answered back with an edge in his voice that was almost unfamiliar to him. "My uncle may have believed in the law but he also knew that there were some people in this world who thought that the law didn't abide to them. And, to be frank, as far as your claims that my friends aren't following the letter of the law, just remember that you're actually saying that they're not following what you believe to be the law. Like it or not, our activities have been endorsed by military counsels and judicial outlets the galaxy over so believe me when I say that we're going to have quite the defense if you think you can take this thing to trial."

"You know that's not the issue here, Wallace," Diana said sternly, the Amazon's delivery tinged with the same firm serenity that had won her respect and acclaim the world over. "You have a family now, people that count on you to protect them. . ."

"Don't you talk to me about family!" The Flash fired back angrily, his vitriol startling even The Batman before the detective calmly moved to place his hand on Wally's bulging right arm. "All of you may have been there to give gifts and coo over my children but that doesn't give them a real life. Now I will acknowledge that I may not know everything there is about being a father but I know that a big part of being one is doing your best to provide the best life for your children and this is the way I'm going about it. My wife has a job that she adores and a home that she feels safe in and my children are a part of the greatest family I could find. So, as much as I may occasionally loathe the fact that I'm living under the roof of this moody, disrespectful old man. . ."

"Living rent free, might I add. . ." a surprisingly wry voice couldn't help but add.

"Shut up, Bruce!" Wally spat back before taking a breath and steering his eyes back to Diana, the woman he had envied and observed from afar as a beacon of strength even before the days he became a hero in his own right. "I've made my decision in regards to where I stand and if you want to try and take away what I've earned then you better be ready for one hell of a fight."

There was a swift, profoundly awkward silence as everyone awaited Wonder Woman's response to the threats and accusations launched against her. The pause was so pronounced, in fact, that some of the judges and several of The Misfits honestly believed that Wally would break down and blubber out an apology in the face of the unyielding stare that Themyscira's envoy first offered back in response. This tension was only slightly abated as a slow, lingering smile graced the Amazon's full lips, the hunger of the hunter written clear as day on Diana's flawless features as she looked over the hero she had known since he was but a boy.

"I admire the nobility in your words and the loyalty you show for your family, Wallace," Diana finally replied in the same, motherly tone that she occasionally found herself drifting into when addressing the heir to Barry Allen's weighty burden. "That being said, I have my own family to look after as well and, like you, I will never cease in my efforts to protect them as well."

A sense of relief seemed to spread throughout the room as the menace and thirst for victory that tainted Wonder Woman's past remarks were noticeably absent. Conversely, her peaceful tone did manage to put an entirely different kind of trepidation within some of the friends and comrades around her and she took some guilty pleasure from that all the same. Taking in Wallace's flushed cheeks and the slight bafflement on Kal-L's chiseled features, the Amazon suddenly found herself quite motivated to twist her powerful attentions upon another object of her ire. "That being said, I will find it hard to believe that our colleague Mister Jordan will be able to resort to the same form of justification. Unlike The Flash or Nightwing, you _were_ an active member of The Justice League when The Sinestro Corps made its designs upon Earth yet you chose to withhold vital information in regards to their intentions."

"Princess, my defense is the same as it was when I was first questioned about this by the U.N," Jordan replied, his cocky tone saying quite a bit for his reportedly inexorable strength of will as he maintained his calm collectiveness in the face of his friend's veiled suggestions. "I may be a member of The Justice League but I am first, and foremost, a member of The Green Lantern Corps."

"Yeah, you've got quite the history of being a loyal trooper," Black Canary retorted with a good-natured smirk, her pithy but pointed retort coercing her longtime friend to fire back with a self-assured smirk of his own.

"I may have my issues with those that lead the Corps but I've come to realize that the only way to make anything better in that department is by being willing to listen to what they have to say," he countered, the authenticity he brought to the table quickly alleviating Dina'h's potentially moody disposition. "Sinestro was planning on taking over more than just Earth, people. He wanted Karbarra, Oa, and any other advanced civilization he could subdue and get a hold of and the fact remained that no one was truly aware of his allegiance with The Silver Coyote until the both of them were able to spring their trap." The longtime Green Lantern couldn't help but take a moment to give Superman a look of sympathy before continuing again, the occasional arrogance that frequently pervaded his performance in situations like these during his younger days only lingering slightly. "The Green Lantern Corps remains grateful for the services provided by The Misfits throughout both the defense of Oa and the successful counterinvasion of Karbarra and, thusly, they were more than happy to send whatever assistance they could to Earth when it was in danger."

"And exactly how long were you aware of Batman's counterterrorist activities," Superman followed up in an understandably strident manner.

Hal first responded by crossing his arms across his chest. "Well, Batsie's jig was pretty much up for me from the moment he called me to help bring down The Brother Eye satellite before it could crash down on top of Rio de Janiero," he replied with an almost insulting degree of serenity. "Figured it was the least I could do given everything that's happened between us over the past few years and the fact of the matter remained that one of my fellow Green Lanterns had made it quite clear that she wasn't going to have it any other way."

"You're referring, of course, to Stephanie Brown," Oracle replied, the audio mufflers not quite enough to shield all the annoyance from the hacker's voice. "You'll excuse me if I give away my suspicions by stating that I'm quite surprised that she has not accompanied you here today."

"Stephanie Brown is a distinguished and valued member of our Corps," Hal calmly answered back just after fixing the white and green images on the nearby monitor with an upraised left eyebrow. "And, if I might be so bold to guess, the simple fact is that Stephanie's actions as a Green Lantern will first be judged by the Corps itself, not by the laws of the sector she has been sanctioned to protect. Just the same, if you're going to take efforts to remove me from the League then I would like to remind you that I will still maintain my duties here on Earth because, like Miss Brown, I have been designated to protect this planet until my superiors believe that I am incapable of such proper services."

"Oh, now that's fuckin' rich!" Ollie seethed back through gritted teeth. "Y'know, old buddy, you can flash that shit-eatin' grin and be the good soldier boy all you want but the fact remains is that right now you're being nothin' but a liar and a hypocrite."

"That is enough, Oliver!" Wonder Woman snapped back, the weighted tone of her voice clearly indicating that she wasn't completely against what the emerald-garbed archer of Star City had to say. "We don't need another instance of our emotions getting the better of us!"

"Bullshit, we don't," Green Arrow shouted back while rising back to his feet, the _screech _of his chair legs sliding against the metal floor raising a horrible racket. He angrily jabbed a finger straight at The Batman while sliding off the domino mask around his eyes so that the egotistical detective could take in every bit of his vicious glare. "This asshole has spent half of his life telling us what we should and shouldn't be doing! Twisting every one of us around like chess pieces and now Kal's cousin shows up asking for peace and understanding and we're supposed to just accept the latest apology and just move on? You know, I've made my share of mistakes and I've gotten more than my share of flak for not following my responsibilities but, damn it, at least I'm trying and I'm willing to pay the consequences. But here we have this old bastard who's got his own kid lying for him, he manipulated my best friend and he was putting my son and my granddaughter at risk without even bothering to tell me where they really were! Now how can he just get away with all those lies and then expect the rest of us to be completely honest?"

"How about you stop trying to stir up more trouble just because you want to feel better about all your own fuckups?"

"That is enough!" Superman broke in with an authoritative but somewhat desperate shout. "Young lady, this isn't getting us anywhere."

"And just who in the hell do you think you are to tell me what I should and shouldn't be doing, kid?" Ollie shouted back in response to the strident claims of the fair-haired woman accosting him. "Now you may be Batman's newest little junior partner but that just means that you're snowed in the most as far as I'm concerned!"

Cecilia's eyes almost threatened to bulge out of her skull as she rose to her feet. "You want to know who I am, Van Dyke? Well, let me just spend a few seconds to tell you can learn a little bit about me." Arrowette began to weave her way around the left side of the table but a firm grip on her elbow gave her pause as she was almost forced to take in the concern that radiated past a pair of white lenses.

"Cecilia," Batman said cautiously, his candor a cautious mix between the gravelly Dark Knight and the gentle Bruce Wayne. "Maybe now isn't the right time for this."

"No! Now is the perfect time for this!" Arrowette blared back while working herself free from Batman's relenting grip. The move didn't require a great deal of effort but it did provide enough time for Dinah to get a closer look at Cecilia and see something she both loved and hated to see. Something that was so familiar that it was enough to send a stabbing chill running through her gut before her heart could beat the cold blood back from the roof of her throat.

_Oh, Ollie. No. _The love of Oliver's life couldn't help but think as Arrowette easily made her way across the gap between the two tables.

"You want to know who I am, Oliver Queen? I'm your daughter, you worthless son of a bitch!"

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Metropolis – 1:32 A.M. Central Standard Time_

The malignant gateways that had previously made their presence felt within Sewage Switching Station #MT7X421 may have faded from existence in this reality but the sum total of their damage remained to be up for debate as the demonic shock troopers left behind continued their attempts to lay waste to their selected foes. Raw power, precise shots, and sound strategy had certainly cut their numbers by a good percentage but the outcome of the battle remained up in the air thanks to the sheer number of troops that remained within Neron's legion, a force that was still near 60 strong. The long, violent seconds continued to drift by as Robin floated over the grasping claws of a Filgaian ice titan in order to give herself enough time to line up a shot that brought a quick messy end to the Fyarl that was attempting to attack Roy from his blind side. This, in turn, left Roy to unload nearly a full cartridge of positronic energy into the titan's back, the burst of gathered electromagnetic energy enough to stun the sapphire-skinned beast to the point where the young Green Lantern was able to have enough time to recover herself before laying waste to her far larger opponent with a spiraling beam of energy. And that, of course, convinced The Black Dog to teleport away from his blade-to-claw conflict with a surprisingly violent Durslar beast in order to bring himself to Arsenal's back, the half-demon's efficient sword work and usage of force barriers allowing enough time for the marksman to replace his momentarily depleted Karbarran energy pistol with a far more recognizable MP-5.

"_You know, I know I may not be the Patton of this group," _Arsenal confessed through the telepathic network shared by the three warriors. _"But this seems to be a lot less complicated than the standard, everyday deathtrap."_

"_Agreed," _Stephanie replied while moving back to her own work as her energy claws easily parried another demon's attempts to skewer her. _"What about you, Puppy? Are your doggie senses tingling or somethin'? Do we have the demonic equivalent of needing to find a fire hydrant here?"_

As much as Lloyd had wanted to respond (to Roy's hypothesis, mind you, not to Stephanie's idiocy), his energies were far too devoted to the tasks of examining the dual dilemmas of fending off his numerous opponents and working to discover the source of the strange magic that was slowing them down. Temporal manipulation on such a specific level would require that the creator of it would have to be near the vicinity of their work in order to make certain that it went off without a hitch. However, the fact remained that he couldn't lock down what he was looking for and there was no way to be certain about whether this was because of some other form of trickery or simply because his target was moving far too quickly for him to get a hold on. The lack of a definitive answer and the urgent need to find it then left The Black Dog to pour his energies into the task, his active mind employing one of the more complicated tricks dredged up by The Condemner in order to circle in on his prey.

It only took seconds for the half-demon's body to lock up as his powers seemed to shut down in an instant. The effects of the time flux were almost immediate in Lloyd's active thoughts as it appeared that the demons now seemed to whirl around him. It took the agony that came with a Fyarl's claws lashing two inches deep into his abdomen for The Black Dog to reclaim some kind of control of his senses, the quick and steady loss of blood bringing about a cold numbness as his body went into shock. His body seemed to shut down as the deep, red blood continued to flow and spurt from the jagged hole in his gut but his mind couldn't help but linger on the thought that he had been abandoned once again.

"Poor, poor boy," whispered a voice that was unfamiliar to Lloyd. In fact, he couldn't even manage to put a name to the face or the costume even as the mystery man moved to stand over his prone form with a hungry smile on his face. "Now you're nothing more than a simple minnow dreading the moment before you are caught within the nets of time," the gentleman continued on while stooping down to pluck the _Mugalshir _from his victim's fractured grip. "Still, take heart that your comrades will know the pain you're feeling soon enough."

Alfred and Lian were just finishing up the dishes from the late night dinner session when they were startled from their peaceful labors by a loud explosion situated in the manor's lobby. Neither of them were fast enough to respond before a half-dozen demons came dashing into the room, their sharp talons and cruel fangs scratching across the marble tile beneath them as they made their way inside. A small part of Lian wanted desperately to put up a brave face in the hissing and spitting doom that awaited her but it was all she could do but to hug Alfred's leg as the monsters stood still just ten feet away from them, the small group of the growing contingent of beasts apparently waiting for some then-unknown signal.

It wasn't until the two commanders of Neron's infiltration unit chose to make their way through the remnants of wood and metal that had once served as the front doors to Wayne Manor until the message was able to made a bit more clear. Neither of them were recognized in the eyes of either the former Interpol agent or the current student of Saizeru Monastery but the bloodthirsty menace exuded by the pale-skinned shorter of the two seemed to be complemented nicely by the cool determination of the larger beast who turned his tawny eyes against the both of them.

"Bring Edward Bloomberg to me alive," Sabbac informed Sebastian Blood and the rest of his regiment. "Do what you will with the rest."

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Metropolis – 1:35 A.M. Central Standard Time_

"Poor, poor child," Chronos mumbled in an almost dreamy manner as he raised Lloyd's gleaming silver saber above his head, the impossibly sharp point poised above The Black Dog's heart. "Such sympathy is so easily lost in the infinity of my domain."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay, yeah, I know that we've got a lot of overdramatic moments here but, damn it, I had to get to them sometime, didn't I? That being said, I can safely say that this one was hardly my favorite in the recent bunch but I'm still hoping that you'll enjoy it and inform me that you enjoyed it by sending reviews. And why? Because reviews are fun and well deserved if you have 320 people that favorite your story but only 5 or 6 of those review on a regular basis.

And, yes, I am being whiny. After all, the world of comics is rather dull right now and summer isn't quite so fun when you're working full-time all the time. Seriously, kids. Don't grow up. It's pretty much exactly where I went wrong.

Oh, and here's a next issue preview.

* * *

_Issue #105 Preview_

Well, it may have taken two-thirds of the arc but hell has finally managed to spring lose. The defenses of Wayne Manor are down and Sabbac looks ready to rain down his own form of judgment without anyone to get in his way while Lloyd is dying and at the mercy of Chronos, manipulator of time.

Oh, and did I mention that Noah's got his own bit of unique trouble coming his way? Geez, it makes you wonder if anybody is going to come out of this alive. That being said, come back in two weeks time to check out the death list with the help of the next installment of _The Misfits_: Struggles of The Sticking Place. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	105. The Sticking Place

Issue #105

The Sticking Place

_20 months and 12 days before October 30th – Topkapi Palace - 10:49 P.M. Eastern European Time_

Chronos was now thoroughly convinced that the wisest course of action was to search for the closest corner he could find and huddle and tremble in fear while the surrounding battle continued to escalate to a fever pitch. He had been told (rather balefully and almost with little caring, he believed) that the original plan set down by Luthor and the higher-ups was to finally do away with the handful of smalltime evildoers that had chosen to resist the growing strength of The Secret Society. No one, however, had anticipated the inclusion of the strange, black-haired mercenary that had apparently chosen to hang his hat with Scandal Savage and her motley crew when the whole thing went down but, whoever the boy was, he appeared to be having little trouble turning what had been called an open-shut wetworks operation into an out-and-out rout that had left him feeling somewhat inadequate and profoundly terrified.

In fact, he had spent the last 45 seconds looking for somewhere to go that wasn't remotely occupied by Savage, Blake, the mystery man, or Ragdoll's freak of a son that, at least according to the rapid-fire communiqués bouncing back amongst the other surrounding Society members, was hiding under one of the long kitchen tables while looking for anyone he could draw into his scraggly clutches. Meanwhile, Chronos's own lanky, quivering frame may have kept him from moving as quickly as he liked but his trembling heartbeat finally saw a reason to throb with anticipation as an explosion of telekinetic energy opened up a thin, open passage into the western hall. Clutching to the blood-soaked glob of muscle and membrane that was once his left eye, Chronos sprinted his way towards freedom with the energy of a frantic child, the petty thief who had stumbled upon the powers of a god now completely lost in his former and forever state of mind.

Perhaps it was fate's way of rewarding him for his cowardice as the blood-drenched, auburn-haired warrior woman pounced on him with a flying tackle, the impossibly sharp blades strapped to her left arm digging deep into his chest and shoulders before effortlessly cutting through his heart. The last thing he saw before taking his last breath was the smooth, emotionless expression on Scandal's face, the recognition that she had taken everything he was seemingly not even worth an afterthought.

Walker Gabriel thought he could almost feel that last, lingering agony pierce through him as Robin deflected his downward slash with the energy claws that pulsed and pounded intensely from the roof of her right knuckle. He then couldn't help but let out a sad frown as that counterfeit pain went away even as the young woman plunged the trio of blades along her opposite hand through his decayed gut, the smell of burnt skin and gristle going completely unnoticed by his lifeless nostrils. What once was a risky adventure became just as simple as a second nature as Chronos twisted the spacing of time around him once again, his temporal manipulation abilities allowing him to slow down Earth's youngest Green Lantern in order to bring himself to a spot where he could easily slice his stolen blade across the girl's scrawny neck. Of course, he had come to recognize that time could be rather nebulous when it insisted upon being so and he felt it speed up again as a two-ounce lump of copper crashed into the back of his skull at several hundred miles per hour. The velocity of the fired projectile was enough to pierce through the hard casing of his skull as well as the brain it was protecting before passing through his right eye with a bloody squelching sound so that the last thing he could bear witness to from the desiccated lump of tissue and muscle was an all-encompassing splotch of crimson. The violation upon his departed senses was enough to disorient him to the point where his target was able to swerve around his clumsy strike by a hair's breadth.

"Thanks, Roy!" Stephanie exclaimed while moving to strike down her surprisingly dangerous foe, her gleaming, white teeth gnashing against each other as her claws instead found purchase in an Eggworm demon who had sacrificed itself for the safety of its apparent field general. The fair-haired Gothamite bottled up the urge to let out a spray of profanity as her eldritch blades ripped through the beast's yellow-skinned gut and puce-colored shell on the way to a definitive though ultimately fruitless kill. "Just hold on, Lloyd! I'll be there in a second!"

Robin had tried her best not to sound frantic but the calm tone of her voice didn't quite meet her eyes as she kept only a flicker of her senses on the lookout for any surrounding threats while the rest of her attention towards tending Lloyd's grievous wound. The spectral bandaging around The Black Dog's gut was enough to stop a good percentage of the bleeding and the administering of small electric shocks to the chest would keep her brother's heart from giving out but the fact remained that more had to be done; something that she couldn't quite pull off with Roy's life and the threat of the situation resting almost completely on her shoulders.

But she did know something that could help and, oh, how easy was it for her to see where it happened to be.

"All right, you listen to me, Za'hafal-nesh," Stephanie hissed while setting loose a force barrier that knocked back the demons that tried to get between her tending to her big brother. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing right now but Lloyd's in danger because of it so that means that I care about what it is! Now if you don't get back to where you belong right now then I'm going to kill you. I don't care if you've made a deal with Neron or some other demonic nasty or if you try to jump into somebody else or even try to jump into me. I will find you and kill you even if I have to die a dozen times over to do it!"

Another blast of energy knocked a pair of Fyarl demons through the brick wall ten feet to Robin's left, the familiar signature of the blast inviting Stephanie's eyes to widen. They immediately scaled upwards to Lloyd's tired face and his barely-opened eyes as the half-demon let out an unraveled cough.

"Don't. . . don't think intimidation is gonna help much 'ere," The Black Dog replied with a bleary whisper, a slight smile emerging on his pale lips as his eyelids drooped down once again. Unfortunately for him, the combination of gestures didn't seem to do much to convince the young man's adopted sister of the fruitlessness of her efforts as his eyes were soon forced open once again when Stephanie pressed down her right thumb and ring finger against the spot of skin and muscle between his teeth and jaw line so that his lips were pried open like a cartoon fish.

"No, no. Nononononono," Robin added while maintaining her blunt delivery. "You don't get to just offer up a flicker and expect me to be satisfied! Now you know Lloyd just as well as I do! You're half of his fucking soul, for Christ's sakes, and you know that he would have never just taken advantage of your power or anything else that might have pissed you off! He didn't ask for this and he didn't want what you had to offer but now he needs it and it's up to you to return the favor or you're going to have one hell of a price to pay! I mean, just ask your better half if you want to get on my bad side!"

Robin let out a sharp yelp as her grip was broken while the sudden ascent of Lloyd Thomas left her to fall on her butt. She was quick to recover, of course, and let out a relieved smile as that familiar, silver tinge began to surface in her brother's eyes, the fluctuation of supernatural energy almost serving as an invitation to Neron's unholy swarm. She kept her eyes on Roy as The Black Dog went to work with a palm thrust that cracked the jagged lower jaw of a Stalfrofos demon shortly before he extended his right palm and fired a trio of short blasts from his stubby fingertips, each one of them quick to impale one of their mutual opponents upon the burning force of the solid light.

"Suddenly feelin' a bit deprived and starkers," Lloyd noted while easily swerving around the massive left arm of a rampaging ogre in order to grab the monstrosity by its elbow and slam his free knee into the beast's vulnerable gut. "I think I'll do something about that. . . now."

An undignified squawk sounded out over the grimy battlefield as the _Mugalshir_ was set free from its captive's clutches and brought safely back into the grasp of its proper owner. The move managed to serve two purposes as it not only allowed him to reunite with the gleaming, silver saber but also allowed the half-demon to draw a bead on their pesky foe. A wave of bioelectric energy was quick to follow, the sharp, purplish beam striking and singing through the chest of another Fyarl demon before streaming its way to Chronos as quickly as the shot could travel. That being said, the beam's tremendous velocity wasn't enough to guarantee a hit on his target and the rapid shifting of the temporal energy around him was enough for Lloyd to be modestly surprised when Chronos was able to avoid the kill shot with a frantic dive. Employing his supernatural powers to readjust the flow of time around him, The Black Dog managed to detect the fading presence of a familiar sigil signifying Chronos's sudden departure and that prompted him to let out a smirk despite the undeterred bloodlust of the several dozen remaining demons and hellspawn around him.

Lloyd shot a familiar look at Robin as he staved away the modest onslaught. "Got enough in the tank for a charge and burn, little sis?"

The impish gleam that quickly surfaced upon Stephanie's pale blue eyes almost seemed to inspire the twin beams of energy that were soon set loose from her Oan power ring. The larger of the two eldritch rays quickly made its way towards The Black Dog's chest, the blast easily flowing through the half-demon's body and filling him with the unique energy that could only be provided by one of the most powerful weapons throughout the cosmos. Lloyd briefly registered the hisses and growls of the demons that attempted to physically interrupt the gathering of power, their tough claws and hides blistering in the contiguous heat, before he finally let it all loose in a focused radial explosion of energy that decimated anything inside of Stephanie's force barrier. The archaic mechanics of the sewage station burned away in an instant and the three remaining sigils faded from existence as Lloyd poured it on for a handful of long seconds, the blinding display of power easily removing any form of nearby resistance that Neron had left to provide.

"Y'know somethin'?" Arsenal couldn't help but ask while trying to look nonchalant within the personal force barrier that had been produced by Stephanie's smaller blast. "My nipples still get hard from seeing that."

Stephanie screwed up in her face as the green aura around her body finally began to fade. "Ewwww! No discussion of nipplage, please!"

"Oh, fine, ya big baby!" Roy smartly replied as the barrier around him came down as well, his eyes quick to zoom over to check in on his field commander. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing that the cut along Lloyd's gut was already on the verge of healing and no fresh blood seemed to be seeping from the fading scar that remained. However, he couldn't help but notice that the visual evidence didn't seem to be enough for his younger companion and Arsenal allowed himself a chuckle as Stephanie zoomed in quickly to give The Black Dog another nervous onceover. "Hey, boss! Anyone ever told you that you seem to attract the psycho chicas?"

Still caught up in her worrying, Robin managed to spare her fellow loudmouth and simply provided a slight snarl in return. "I'm not attracted to the puppy. This is just my way of pointing out that he's not allowed to go away."

Now it was Lloyd that couldn't help but chortle as he easily accepted the arm that Robin wrapped around his shoulders. "Don't even try to dispute her, Harper," he added roughly. "She'll just overrule you too."

Arsenal could only shake his head back and forth in dismay as Robin responded with a jovial grin.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – 2:41 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Superman calmly slapped his left palm against the metal table, the move raising a noisy clatter that he hoped would draw attention. "Cecilia, Oliver. Would the both of you just remain calm," he began in a placating manner. "There will be plenty of time to discuss this matter at a different. . ."

"Shut up, Boy Scout!" Arrowette and Green Arrow both shouted back, the father and daughter trading suspicious glares upon recognizing the joint social faux pas. Still, the pair of fair-haired archers did have enough force behind their exclamations to briefly take The Man of Steel aback as the full-blooded Kryptonian wisely chose discretion over valor while quietly pondering over how they ever managed to get anything done around here.

That being said, although he was often one to complain about such matters, it didn't seem that Oliver Queen was focused on the idea of efficiency in politics. "What in the hell do you mean, kid?" he snapped back with all the vitriol he could muster. "You expect me to believe that Bonnie wouldn't tell me about something like that after all these years?"

The mention of her mother's name forced Cecilia into an unwanted and involuntary tremble. Of course she had read the newspaper headlines and adjoining stories that depicted the tales of her mother's occasional adventures with the self-appointed guardian of Star City but her father's simple acknowledgment seemed to be enough to bring the truth crashing down around her. "I don't know why she didn't tell you," she finally spat back the moment her wavering eyes could catch a crack in Green Arrow's façade. "Maybe she did try to but she just couldn't get the words out. Maybe she loved you and just got pissed off about the fact that you probably just saw her as another cheap fuck."

The mention of the tawdry possibility quickly combined with the embittered scowl that graced her father's lips continued to push Cecilia's long-standing anger. "All I know is that you're a big reason why my mother probably saw dollar signs every time she plucked me out of the cradle! That's why I was forced to be on that goddamned field from sunup to sundown since I was five years old so I could be the celebrity that she never was! So that I could be better than you ever will be!"

Watching on, Dinah Laurel Lance couldn't help but notice how a certain string of events could lead you to feeling something you didn't think you would suffer. She couldn't even put a name to it as Nightwing strode forward to take Cecilia gently by the arm before escorting her back to the smaller table and she continued to remain locked in confusion as she watched the young woman, this relative stranger, struggling so mightily to avoid breaking down that the sob that finally emerged from Cecilia's lips came out dismal and worn. Unable to keep on looking, she almost forced herself to turn toward a far more familiar face and that allowed her to absorb the shame that poured over Oliver's face like a torrent. She wondered if there was any room left in her former lover's guilt-ridden conscience for yet another forgotten child with the space already filled to the brim with the regrets of one child abandoned just after he was born and another cast away into a callous pack of life's wolves. It was that part of Oliver, the one that empowered his nobility and hostility for the world that he had used and been abused by that made her heart reach out to him even as her mind was seething with anger at the merest thought of the notion.

"All right, I think it's safe to say that we could all use a bit of a break after that," noted Hal Jordan, the former pilot's calm delivery snapping Dinah out of his reveries and bringing everyone else back to where they needed to be. "Superman, if you would agree, I would like us to reconvene in an hour," he recommended over the sound of the double doors sliding open with its familiar electronic whirr, the sound so commonplace that the Green Lantern didn't even bother to see who brought it about until it was far too late. "That way we can better avoid any unnecessary displays of. . . oh, God, no!"

"You sanctimonious, self-righteous, undemocratic bastards!" Guy Gardner began with a roar, the former defense attorney striding up to the center of the room with his usual infuriating attitude. "You think you can just sneak in while we're not lookin' and poach on some good people while we're busy workin' somewhere else?"

"I beg your pardon, Mister Gardner," Wonder Woman replied, her fairly calm demeanor mixing hastily with the well-deserved annoyance that she had long held for the scurrilous former Justice Leaguer and current member of The Green Lantern Corps. "I believe that your unit is already well-represented by Mister Jordan so what makes you think that you have any right. . ."

"Princess, I'll talk to you when I need some tits to stare at!" Gardner shot back with a leer, the spike of righteous fury that rose up on Themyscira's ambassador only heightened as the mop-topped Green Lantern then took a moment to take an unabashed look at Arrowette's behind. "I'm talkin' to lantern jaw here," he then declared while pointing his one remaining ring finger straight at the publically ordained Man of Steel. "Now I may not be the first one tellin' you this but let me just say right now that if you plan on bringin' up charges on Wayne and his people then I'm gonna have a shitload to say about it and, unlike you, I'll actually have the law to back me up!"

Superman responded to the ballsy claim with an almost amused stare as a grumble from Gardner's back allowed the Kryptonian to table whatever he had to say.

"I don't recall asking for your assistance, Guy," Batman broke in with a rather distempered candor to his words. "In fact, I think it would be better for all involved if you just. . ."

"Well, you ain't the first person I'm thinkin' about either here!" Gardner spat back, the Detroit native's lingering memory of a single right hook and a two-second fight perhaps having a bit to do with his contradictory harshness. "This is about Steph and the kid dressed up in the giant red condom, Supes! This is concerning that hot-legged cousin of yours and that British twig she's always droolin' over!"

"Please tell me you've got another awe-inspiring speech to get us out of this," Nightwing whispered to the dismayed figured to his right while the rest of the crowd took in the vulgar speaker with annoyance, mild understanding, or outright indifference.

Kara, in return, took a moment from slumping her face against her right palm in order to respond to the simple plea. "I just want to go home now," she said with a middling degree of misery that was enough to prompt Nightwing into responding with a knowing smirk.

"If all of you would allow me to attempt to restore reason to these proceedings," Red Tornado calmly offered, the superpowered automaton's opaque, golden lenses painting a stark contrast to the tension that seemed to persist in everyone else. "Mister Gardner, I must ask why you are so ardent towards defending the actions of Batman's entourage, particularly given your past animosities with the leader of the band under scrutiny."

Gardner let out a breath before allowing himself to continue, the mop-topped intergalactic warrior clearly not willing to maintain the same degree of righteous vitriol for the placid android as he had for Superman or Wonder Woman. "I just said that it wasn't about the bat-eared asshole, Reddy. Now maybe you guys have been a little busy but I had the chance to hang around and watch these kids save our hides when everyone else was grasping for what they were going to do next. Me and my buddies in the Corps watched one of our own be corrupted by a monster and did our best to hold off the tide when the Sinestro Corps brought everything crashing down but they were the ones who figured out how to shore it up! Then I got to see what Steph and her buddies did in the month it took to get back to Earth after Sinestro's dirty little trick. I got to watch those kids work for hours on end, training and whaling on each other just so they could get just a little bit better than what they needed to be in order to get the job done."

The former barrister and current loudmouthed, Green Lantern Corps colonel couldn't help but take a moment to consider the weighty look on Wonder Woman's face and how those gorgeous blue eyes seemed to radiate with a new consideration. Still, as much as he was partial to leering at a pretty lady, Gardner nearly surprised himself by returning to the point at hand and the person he wanted to get his message to.

"Supes, I'm tellin' ya! There were Green Lanterns on that ship that had spent decades in the field who were wishing that they had enough guts to push through what they put themselves through. They sweat and bled because they knew that when they got to where they needed to be that the big, bad guys we're going to be lookin' for them. They were the ones that Sinestro and his bastard friends knew they had to get through to get what they wanted so while I understand that you guys invited Wayne and his yahoos up here because you thought that this was the way to best protect the planet but I'm here to tell you that you're mistaken. We're gonna need some good soldiers to get through whatever the hell's coming and there ain't no better soldiers around than what Bats here has to offer."

Unable to stop himself, Gardner merrily abandoned the respect and good will he had garnered with his earnest words by looking to his left in order to take in every inch of Dinah's legs that weren't covered by the table, a perverted leer gracing his lips the entire time.

"I could find quite a few people who would agree with those words, Colonel Gardner," concurred another stern voice, the words broadcast clearly through the speakers of the computer that neighbored the device that Oracle was employing to make her presence felt from 6,000 miles away. The candor was unfamiliar to a large minority of the assembled heroes but any bit of confusion was removed as the attached monitor revealed an easily recognizable face, the woman's outsized jowels loosely stretched against her jawline as she regarded the assembled audience with a stern glower.

"Perhaps I should consult the United Nations upon the extermination policies conducted by their private facilities," Amanda Waller added as every bit of potential attention turned towards her. "It seems that quite a few mice have made their way onto The Watchtower while the proverbial cat was away."

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Wayne Manor Kitchen – 2:44 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Alfred Pennyworth had just enough time for his life to flash before his eyes before the first demon was in range to strike, the slathering jaws of both the lead beast and its bloodthirsty colleagues all letting out an array of snarls and snorts that stung at the caretaker's aged ears. His eardrums let out a rattle from the intensity of Lian's screams just as his eyes were bathed in a sea of white, the shock and surprise enough to send the butler off of his usually stable equilibrium to where he was stumbling to the floor while his arms were still encumbered by the young girl shivering within his grasp. Finding himself able to suddenly make more sense of the world around him, his eyes widened with wonder as he looked up to see the sneering beasts clustered around a small dome of energy that let out a menacing crackle each time a claw or fang attempted to get close to it. Needless to say, only a small amount of time needed to pass before the former Interpol agent managed to recognize that the barrier simultaneously protected them from harm but by then he was distracted by an excited gasp from Roy's daughter as she had apparently recognized their savior.

"Mister Valsu!"

The head abbot of The Saizeru Monastery wasted no time recognizing his young charge as he cast his aged eyes upon the unholy throng. "Foul, profligate servants of the masters below, the gentle hand of the Almighty shall stay your hands!" he declared, his soft tone ringing over the riotous din as the vicar's forest-green and white robes fluttered against his slight, aged frame.

The presence of the holy man inspired many of Neron's servants to cautiously step backward but a deep chortle quickly coaxed them back to readiness. "I am afraid you are no longer within a house of God, old conjurer," Sabbac unnecessarily informed the man of God he had narrowly failed to overthrow just one week ago. "Your divine protections will not be enough to stem our tide."

A flood of bullets was provided as a reply to the greater demon's truthful boast, the casings of hot lead tearing through the first wave of Sabbac's regiment so that black blood soon tarnished the formerly spotless linoleum floors. As one would expect, there was a slight grimace of consternation on the face of Valsu Saizer as the source of the outright violence continued to make his presence felt, the masked man leaping into the fray with a forceful lunge that quickly brought him into the middle of the makeshift battlefield. The wild but successful movement allowed the big man a moment of peace that he employed to holster the twin MP5s and replace the spent weapons with a pair of sharp katana that gave the surrounding demons another reason to feel fear.

"Then the preacher will just have to leave it to the sinners," noted Slade Wilson as he claimed two more kills with his blades, the continued bloodshed inspiring Neron's troopers into movement as they concentrated their efforts on the recently arrived assassin. "Get the kid and the butler out of harm's way, old man!" he then bellowed while continuing to wreak havoc even as a double-jawed Sylvant demon managed to dig a good portion of its maw through Deathstroke's left shoulder. "Leave the violence to the professionals."

"Kill that irritant!" Sabbac ordered to his troops with a beastly roar, the former mafia boss quickly adjusting his stratagem to counter the somewhat unexpected surprise. Still, his quick thinking wasn't enough to withhold his snarl as he observed Saizer easily transporting his live cargo to safety. "Capture the bystanders in order to use them as leverage! Nothing must prevent the retrieval of our lord's disciple! Find Edward Bloomberg!"

The determined words were quickly followed up by a dull pain to his shoulder blade as what appeared to be a missile crashed into his dense and sturdy flesh and bone. Quick to recognize the unwilling projectile both by sight and through identifying the immortal's unique eldritch signature, Gregor let out a frown as Sebastian Blood crumpled to the ground at his feet. In response, Sabbac's tawny eyes flashed with unholy energy as he easily twisted his sights away from the young immortal to the far more worthy target of the warrior that had made it happen. The greater demon felt the black flames in his maw begin to bubble as he took in the ridiculous presence that stood at the top of the central stairwell. In fact, it almost seemed that every portion of the Russian's refined tastes seemed to bristle in response to every individual bit of evidence that the girth-ridden man had to provide from his brown, moleskin vest to his blue-and-black striped pants to his positively preposterous spiked blond hair to the confident snarl that framed his portly face.

"Well, allow me to welcome ya to Wayne Manor, ya blasphemous sot," Nigel Thornton said in greeting the unexpected company, his enormous double-bladed battle ax gripped tightly within his plump fists. "An' now that Wally's little moppets are safely squared away, what say you an' me 'ave a go?"

A demonic snarl clashed with a course bellow as the former teacher of both The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote bounded down the steps before leaping headlong through the fount of flames that Sabbac had summoned up to greet him. The portly warrior could feel his beefy forearms bubbling from the heat even as he met Neron's lackey with a ferocious leaping head butt that sent the both of them first crashing through the adjacent wall that surrounded the kitchen before similarly smashing past the formerly pristine window that separated the dining area from the manor's front courtyard, the two hard-nosed fighters punching and clawing at one another throughout the entire awkward flight plan.

* * *

Eddie Bloomberg couldn't help but flash his pearly, white fangs as he hefted the struggling Blockapa demon over his head, the half-demon's supernatural strength allowing him to easily heft his 750-pound opponent.

"You know, there's only so much time somebody can spend being the nice guy before they start getting testy," he announced happily before sending his improvised projectile straight into the path of a trio of Neron's troopers at quite the unsafe rate of speed. "Especially if that somebody looks like me," he then added before opening his scarlet-black lips wide and letting out a stream of dark flame that seemed to eagerly burn through Kid Devil's prey. Quickly accepting the violence through his desire to protect the seemingly happy home around him, the former studio gopher eagerly turned his attention to the throng approaching him from the hall to the south. However, just as he was ready to spread his lanky arms outward in order to better take advantage of the aerial ground available to him, the Teen Titan's efforts were suddenly cut short as the incoming opponents were quickly waylaid by a stream of electrical energy that sent most of them crashing to the floor while a handful of others struggled to stay on their feet.

"Awwww, and I wanted to fight 'em!" Kid Devil playfully proclaimed even as his unplanned partner polished off her work with a quick bit of transfiguration that soon brought about the flight of a small flock of doves through the second floor of the manor as they moved to escape from the nearby open window. "Y'know, I always wondered where your cousin got that need to showboat."

Zatanna Zatara offered Kid Devil a prim smile while readjusting the brim of her top hat. "And I always wondered how Zachary managed to become so chatty," the conjurer fired back, the knowing smile of a showwoman gracing her lips as she remained on the lookout for any hint of trouble. "Just try to keep yourself safe, kiddo. They're here for you, after _WHOA!" _

The Justice League's resident witch suddenly found herself struggling to keep her balance as an enormous mountain troll crashed to the floor just ten feet away from her. Restoring her equilibrium while shuffling backwards, she struggled to maintain her slight surprise as the weight of the hirsute, towering brown-skinned beast proved to be enough to shatter the oaken supporting planks and send the servant of Neron crashing into the storage room below, it's piston-like left foot still encumbered by a leather bullwhip that caught her eye just a fraction of a second before the weapon faded from sight.

"Son of a bitch," said the source of a hiss that was both familiar and surprisingly pleasant to Zatanna's ears. "How about you look out for yourself, Glinda! Those things don't come cheap!"

It was all that Zatanna could do to keep herself from laughing at the welcome sight. "I thought you were supposed to be watching Deathstroke's back?"

Catwoman let out an indignant scowl as she leapt onto the nearby banister with a well-practiced ease, her stable feet easily perched on the narrow slab of wood as she tilted her head down toward the ground floor. Allowing some time for Bruce's old friend to follow her lead, the former cat burglar tried her best to avoid rolling her eyes as Zatanna visibly enjoyed the sight of a surprisingly unfettered masked assassin trying to chase down a panicked Sebastian Blood. "I'm not getting anywhere near that," she added in what could only be construed as a gratuitous manner while shifting her sights elsewhere. "Maybe you should consider that a nice word of warning before you start making any more moves on the old man's daughter, kiddo," she added without a hint of hesitation, the hunter in Batman's lover making no efforts to hide the satisfaction she gleaned from the panic on Kid Devil's face.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – 3:03 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Black Canary took a moment to regard Superman and Wonder Woman's lack of a smart retort to the cold accusation before choosing to respond on her own. Her long, secondhand history with the current head of Checkmate caused a deep scowl to line her tired but appealing countenance and that expression only grew as Nightwing's plea for order quickly fell upon Waller's selectively deaf ears. "I can agree that somebody needs to do something about this mess," she finally declared, a prickle of irritation enlivening her bright, blue eyes as she noticed that some of her comrades were apparently shocked to see her speaking up. "That being said, at least one of my family members tends to get thrown under the bus whenever you get involved so maybe I'm a little scared about you choosing to be the one to take control."

Waller first responded with a minuscule quirk of her lips that could have been taken as the acceptance of a point. "You have my sympathies in regards to your impressive record in the field, Black Canary," the woman known on Capitol Hill as "The Wall" coolly replied. "However, you can hardly blame me for the choices you've made in regards to the company you choose to keep." Despite the concise retort, the head of Checkmate allowed Dinah a chance to let out an annoyed sigh before continuing to press the current issue. "As I was saying before, one could look at this bit of noisy tedium and come to the conclusion that some of you are attempting to overstep some legal boundaries."

"What do you want, Waller?" Superman finally asked, his turbulent history with Lex Luthor's former Secretary of Defense bringing a soupcon of edge to the Kryptonian's tone.

Waller, in reply, clucked her tongue while shaking her head back and forth. "And there's another reason why farm boys should never play poker," she noted calmly before continuing her critical glare. "To make a long matter short, ladies and gentlemen, I have just gotten off the horn with the military heads of the five charter members of The United Nations. And, by unanimous decree, we have agreed to file a full injunction towards each and every member of The Justice League should they attempt to criminalize the actions of Bruce Wayne and his team upon either a public or private forum."

The declaration started a quick uproar that rumbled among both groups, just as Waller had hoped and intended, and the identity of the first person to respond to it didn't surprise the former student of Mao Tenryu in the least.

"You have an interesting way of choosing your battles, Waller," Wonder Woman countered with surprising evenness. "Of course, you've always taken a liking to protecting your pet projects until you can't handle them anymore and need someone else to sacrifice themselves to clean up the remains."

"The Misfits are hardly a 'pet project' of mine, Miss Prince." Waller fired back with equally forced neutrality. "Once again, allow me to remind all of you that I am simply a liaison delivering a message from a worldwide governmental agency, an agency that just happens to control your funding, need I remind you."

"Perhaps you weren't paying attention when Miss Zor-el recommended the idea of listening first before you start to make demands," Nightwing butted in, the detective's hostile tone a clear sign that he had grown just as weary of the interruptions as his father. "Now the last thing any of us need is somebody choosing to resort to more blackmail just so they can get a bigger share of the pie. . ."

"This isn't about control or preserving your pride, Mister Grayson," Waller coldly answered, the first chink in the heavy-set woman's armor finally making its presence felt. "As I've said, I am here to meet the demands of the world in general and my country in particular and both parties have declared that The Justice League, while a valuable public distraction, is not as valuable to the stability of the global military stage than the preservation of Wayne's operations. After all, the needs of the many outweigh the desires of the egotistical few."

"Oh, you are one to talk!" Wonder Woman seethed while rising from her seat. "Where was your calm authority as my country was unfairly placed under fire for actions that were solely my own or when we were used for little more than fodder for an intergalactic army? Where was this strength when Alexander Luthor assaulted Metropolis or when The Silver Coyote left Superman to be put on display for weeks on end?"

"Please be calm, Diana," Tempest said soothingly, the councilman's tone not laced with the regal authority of his predecessor but his calm tones managed to make up the difference. "Miss Waller, with all due courtesy and respect, the League has acted as an independent entity before. Though I believe it would be safe to say that we would not wish to do so, we must also do what we must to preserve the safety of what we have been chosen to protect."

"Is that right, Garth?" Waller asked with only a modicum of disdain, the respect she had garnered for Arthur's former charge building in response to the warning. "Do you mean to declare that perhaps the kingdom of Atlantis would be willing to offer The Justice League both autonomy and criminal sanctuary? Well, while your current comrades should be grateful for your generosity, perhaps you should reconsider your words for the next time you address the rest of the Atlantean governing council. After all, I'm certain that the other parliament members would have something to say in regards to the globally-enforced commercial sanctions that would be levied upon Atlantis should you wish to go through with your threat."

Tempest allowed a moment to let the bold warnings sink in and the anger that came with it to fade away, his amethyst pupils narrowing as he met Waller's unflinching glare. "Such a polarizing decision would only harm both sides in the long term," he calmly noted. "Perhaps a window of time has or could be allowed to make the intentions of all parties clear before any additional aggressive action is taken?"

"No! We do not have to knuckle under to these threats!" Wonder Woman shouted while hammering her right fist against the desk. "We save the world a dozen times over and this is how you choose to respond to our attempts to handle a legitimate threat to the well being of both the public as well as ourselves? You would save your own pathetic, metaphorical home while standing by and watching the rest of the village burn?"

Waller would have gladly nodded if she had been given the authority to do so. "Perhaps I should also mention that it would be little trouble for certain information concerning a certain Smallville-born reporter to be leaked to the public should you carry out your vendettas. . ."

"You know something? I just figured it out!"

A large percentage of the eyes in the room and on the nearby monitors turned towards Oliver Queen as he made his interruption. That proportion of attention then became 100 percent as the emerald-garbed archer swung his legs upward and forward so that his feet were perched on the table in a decidedly nonchalant manner. "As I was saying, Waller. You come up here and make all these threats and freak everybody out and there's got to be a reason that you do it!" he theorized while sweeping his arms over his head until his fingers locked behind his head. "And, now that I'm really lookin' at you, I reckon I've got an idea about why you're up here playing the dictator instead of the diplomat."

"And that is?" asked Waller.

"Well, you need to get laid, of course!" Green Arrow merrily shouted back, his garish claim met with gasps and sighs of discontent from a handful of his male and female colleagues. "And, just between you, me, and the world, I'll be more than happy to take on the burden. That way you can have somebody to tie up and spank with a wet noodle and get all your other yayas out before you just come out into the world and being a pushy bitch."

It was quite the surprise to nearly everyone in the conference room that Waller could still manage to express something as docile as a blank, neutral expression.

"Mister Queen, do you have any idea how quickly I could shut down your entire operation and put you behind bars?"

The Green Arrow was kind enough to twist his lips as he thought it over. "I'm guessing about 24 hours. Forty-eight tops," he ventured. "Still, that also means that Speedy will probably be heading over to Wayne Manor and you'll be down another potential boy toy."

"Ollie, for God's sakes," Dinah hissed while moving to bat her former boyfriend's legs off the table. "Would you just hush up?"

"No! No, I won't, Pretty Bird!" Ollie fired back while shifting his legs away from the incoming swat. "Since I've finally got a full idea about what's going on then I've got something more to say! Now I may have been the mayor of Star City for just a cup of coffee but I know enough about checks and balances to realize that this whole system ain't going to work if one party can take apart the other two."

"Agreed," Superman concurred with an undeniable note of authority. "Black King, I recognize that you know enough of the world to see that we all have good intentions. Furthermore, while you may disapprove of the wording employed by Kara in her suggestion for transparency between our organizations, I believe that both you and the governments of the world would be intrigued by the possibilities if such a thing could be carried out."

A handful of long, stressful seconds passed as everyone watched Waller think the matter over, the inscrutable countenance of the head of Checkmate momentarily placing nearly everyone in the conference room straight upon their frayed nerves. Finally there came the slightest remnant of a smile as Waller nodded her head in agreement, her midnight-black eyes holding both amusement and maybe even approval even as the rest of her features remained neutral.

"Well, I will have to discuss the manner with my superiors and colleagues at the United Nations, of course, but I believe that it won't take long at all to convince them," Waller confessed before turning his attentions to a certain still-swaggering diplomat. "I must say that you were perhaps the last person I would have guessed to counter with a more peaceful ultimatum, Green Arrow."

The showy confidence quickly slipped away just as Oliver slid away from the table so that his feet were back firmly on the ground. He had taken off his mask well before Batman had arrived so that Bruce could get a good luck at the fury in his eyes that had been built up over years of deceit and suspicion. However, now that he had his customary chance to rail, the former financier of The Justice League was more than ready to get with the truth telling.

"Well, the way I see it is that I've got a daughter who probably hates my guts and a son who won't let me see what he and my granddaughter are doing with their lives. So, since the only thing I really should be caring about right now is making certain to do right by them, I'm just gonna have to do what I can to support them. And if that means telling you to cool your jets and take the time to cook some chili for when you sit down at the table to talk then that's what I'll do."

Oliver Jonas Queen knew he could have spent a moment to take in that small, beautiful smile that was doubtlessly on Dinah's lips or even make certain that he read Waller's face to make certain that he had gotten his message across. Instead, he somehow found enough of himself to center his focus upon his longtime contemporary and rival. The man who had unwillingly set the bar for his own achievements for as long as he could remember. The spoiled rich kid that had managed to repair the broken bits of the lives he had left behind before presenting them to the world again so that a flawed man could have another opportunity to do things right.

"You never did get back to me about that team-up, Pointy-Ears," he noted with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne, in turn, let out a familiar half-smile.

* * *

The malignant, crimson aura surrounding Sabbac's muscular frame provided just enough light for Nigel as he swung his hatchet in a sweeping, upwards arc that missed digging through the demon's torso by a matter of inches. The prodigious, two-handed attack would have left most combatants wide open for a counter and Gregor clearly thought as much given the way the demon quickly chose to put a vicious amount of enthusiasm into his preparations to sink The Bane of Velius through the portly man's gut. However, it was Neron's lieutenant who soon found himself surprised once again as his forward lunge was met with a stern elbow to the jaw that sent his fangs clattering against one another as he lurched backward, the scent and taste of his blood infuriating him all the more.

"British swine," Sabbac snarled before brusquely spitting a combination of spilled blood and smashed bone from his lips. "You will plead to remove your revolting presence from my sight before the sun rises on this wretched morn."

The crash of eldritch weaponry provided another illuminating spark that lit up the otherwise gloomy front courtyard as Sabbac's pilfered long blade clashed violently with his opponent's axe. The former Russian mobster felt the formerly smashed molars repairing themselves as the cutting edges locked and he focused himself in order to draw forth all of Satan's impossible might in order to split open the face of the corpulent fool with his own weapon. Scarlet lightning rose from his neck and shoulders, his gift from Belial skittering across Thornton's face and setting the chubby skin that hung there to a bubbling boil until the man's face was little more than a series of parched carbuncles accompanied by a stubby nose and wide, determined eyes. That being said, perhaps the visual evidence of his work was what distracted Sabbac as Nigel overpowered him with a ferocious forward push that sent the demon into a backwards stumble. Less than a second passed before Gregor felt both a searing pain against his skull and the unique sensation of the night air buffeting against an open wound as his portly opponent managed to slash off several inches of his forehead with a one-handed sideways slash.

"Been threatened by a lot worse than you, Russkie," Nigel coarsely replied while bringing himself back to his standard defensive position, his blood-stained weapon of choice almost looking eager to cause more damage. "As a matter o' fact, I'm thinkin' one of those would like to 'ave a word with ya."

Gregor needed every bit of Beelzebub's speed to avoid the first signal that The Black Dog had returned to his adopted home. In fact, the only thing that managed to keep Sabbac's head on his shoulders was his long-standing recognition of the eldritch signature of the half-demon that had originally destroyed his mortal form. Additionally, it was nearly no more than a stroke of luck that he managed to avoid the seamless follow-up of a leaping, overhead double slash from the half-demon's rotund instructor as the unspoken chant for Neron's sigil had already been on the tip of his tongue. The blinding flames that marked his departure provided Sabbac with the precious distraction he needed to make a clean getaway, his glimmering ocher pupils narrowing with the anger of an opportunity missed as he faded from sight.

"Owe you another bit of thanks, I do," Lloyd acknowledged while easily sheathing his blade. "Still, goodness knows that 'ittle Jai has been wrought out since he's been deprived of the chance to learn from the greatest livin' master of 'pull my finger'."

Nigel shrugged his shoulders while admitting a different kind of vapor from his mouth with a loud "buuuurp" before proceeding to pick at the wax gathered in his left ear. "No worries, guv. Always love to see the beaners, ya know," the swarthy Brit said with his usual, street-hardened candor. "'Sides, I could always use a spot of violence before me breakfast an' I wanted to see if ole 'Pish Tosh' has lightened up any in the past few months."

The Black Dog allowed himself a tired smile. "I'm sure the good Mister Pennyworth will be more than happy to see you," he replied with a somewhat jocular tone. "Especially now since we've managed to run off Neron's latest surprise."

"Oh, is that right?" Nigel asked, a sharp hiss peeking from his lips even as he turned to place his weapon back in the allotted scabbard strapped to his back. "So the poor, old man with the bubbly personality and bubbling face is the last to be checked upon?"

Now it was Lloyd's turn to lightly heave his shoulders up and then down. "Well, you did say you wanted a spot of violence."

Nigel replied with a smile, his teeth worn and grimy from the previous damage. "True that, guv. So I suppose we can breathe easy now, yeah?"

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Batcave – 2:59 A.M. Eastern Standard Time _

Noah did let out a sigh of relief as the last traces of Neron's troops abandoned the battle, the bespectacled overseer of the impromptu skirmish leaning back in his chair before plucking his spectacles off the bridge of his nose. As he polished the recently bought glasses with his handkerchief, The Calculator found a bit of pride in helping to defend his home in his own way. His timely instructions and updates allowed first Slade and later Lloyd to plan enough of a counteroffensive to send their opponents scurrying away with a decisively bloody nose.

"Well, I must say again that you are a rather efficient lot," reported The Riddler from his own chair beside Noah's terminal. Waiting patiently as his busy comrade placed his glasses back on their usual resting place, the former rogue played with the rim of his green-and-purple bowler with an astonishingly sure hand. "It is blatantly apparent that your comrades rely on you to provide proper information and lines of communication both on and off the theatre of war."

The Calculator let out a fatigued sigh as he moved to take a sip from his nearby cup of coffee. "Well, I suppose we must all play our assigned roles," he thickly replied as the lukewarm brown liquid passed through the bottom of his throat. "I can only hope that my performance shall always be this up to par."

Noah had just enough time to hear a buzz of motion before he was slammed against the keyboard and thrown through the monitor just as he had in his dream. The feeling of blood coursing down his severely lacerated back that had turned his stomach from the world of reveries now provided a reminder of his own agony as his vision blurred. Still, the loss of his glasses wasn't quite enough to prevent him from recognizing his assailant nor was the distraction of his pain enough to blunt the shock he felt as The Riddler lifted him aloft by the neck with the same ease as a child would have with holding down a balloon by its string.

"Do not undervalue your worth, good sir," Noah's assailant replied in a voice far too guttural and vicious to come strictly from the lips and thoughts of Edward Nigma. "In fact, your skin will serve as a flawless centerpiece for my final invitation. Do make certain they will receive it, will you?"

Noah could just recognize, in those last moments, that his body and mind were on fire.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Isn't it nice when everything goes according to plan?

As always, I would like to deliver a helping of thanks to everyone who keeps on reading and an even bigger heaving of a serving for those who either provided some kind words or talked about what I could do better. As I've said before, there's only so much I can do to respond to questions launched by anonymous reviewers so, if you want a direct answer, then just send me your e-mail address in the review and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Likewise, I know I've got a bit of catching up to do when it comes to reading stuff from my signed reviewers but I'm sure those authors can assure you that I do eventually get to it. That being said, I never would have thought that real life would get so much in the way of doing stuff I want to do rather than what I need to do.

Seriously. Because I didn't have much of a life when I started this thing over four years ago. Just comics and video games and the occasional girlfriend and dropped semester of college.

Exactly _why _can't I go back to that?

* * *

_Issue #106 Preview_

Well, both the battle with Neron's forces and the trial launched by The Justice League has come to a momentary end and, all things considered, things are quite peaceful and boring once again. Well, except for Bruce getting back together with a childhood friend and Cissie being forced to try to reacquaint with her biological father and Kara trying to patch things up with her cousin and the fact that the rest of The Misfits have to ponder over just what Neron's invitation entails.

That should make enough words for a whole issue, right?

Find out in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Belated Summons. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	106. Belated Summons

Issue #106

Belated Summons

_October 30__th__ – The Batcave – 3:03 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

A brief haze of yellowish-orange smoke continued to simmer from The Riddler's fingertips as the demon within the detective concluded its ghastly engraving. The work was quick and efficient, the beast's efforts only slightly hindered by the copious amount of blood that trickled from the dozens of tiny cuts that lined Noah Kuttler's chest and stomach, the collected supply trickling down the hacker's slight love-handles before being left to stain the already ruined computer console.

"The biological blueprints of _Homosapien _circulatory operations can be phenomenally counterproductive," The Riddler continued on with his flowery pose as his sharp fingernails punched through the hair-length layer of skin and sinew and piercing just lightly into the abdomen of his canvas. "Its exploits, even at its highest optimum efficiency, can occasionally bring about the demise of its chief benefactor with greater expediency than would occur otherwise. For example," he explained as a slight burble of bright, red blood from Noah's gut interrupted his drudgery "this hemorrhaging along the lower half of your rib cage is only becoming worsened by your right ventricle's attempt to supply the necessary nutrients and cells that must be supplied in order to begin bringing about a proper recovery. However, given that the vessels themselves are frayed and only hastening the adverse blood flow, it would be safe to say that you now have only minutes to live."

The monster rose back to his unimpressively full height as Nigma's lanky frame failed to match the ominous intent within the creature's words and actions. He swiped his hands across one another now that the job had been completed, the move doing little to eliminate the blood that stained those long fingers and smooth palms.

"However, we do not live under the most pristine of possibilities do we, Mister Kuttler?"

Given The Calculator's complete inability to respond, perhaps it was appropriate that somebody offered a response in the form of a flying tackle that sent Nigma sliding against the hard, limestone floor. A bestial roar emerged from the maw of the creature that had performed the deed, a gleam of unforgiving hunger rising from his yellow, pupiless eyes.

"Your labors, they pulse with malodorous intent, so burning and scalding this good sinner's lament," Etrigan growled while hefting the stunned Riddler over his head, its bulging right claw wrapped around the detective's pale neck. "Such crimes, such transgressions will not be forgiven but by nine quarts of thine and Hel's forced protection!"

"ETRIGAN! STOP!" Zatanna shouted as the heat of the hellfire summoned from the greater demon's gut wafted against her face even from twenty feet away. "You know that Nigma's not responsible for this! Neron's already left him!"

The eternal demon within Jason Blood turned to face Zatanna as he continued to dangle The Riddler over his horned head and a wicked smile crossed his rough lips. "Yon tender clemency repulses mine black deed, for such foolish practitioner's unworthy need," the beast finally acquiesced as he roughly tossed Nigma back down to the floor. "Disregard the guilt that infests his endeavors or suffer the crime of Daedalus's feathers."

The Justice League's resident witch let out a heavy sigh of relief as Jason Blood's nastier half began the incantation that would restore the amalgamated powerhouse back to its human form. However, that relief was quickly capitulated as she was able to take a full look at the state of Bruce's gore-ridden friend before quickly rushing towards the scene. A low chant rose from her lips even as she gently grasped Noah's wrist in order to check for a pulse, the effects of the homeopathic enchantment quickly working to fix up the damage that her patient's body was failing to repair. She didn't let out so much as the smallest of shudders as she felt the tips of her silk gloves run slick with blood as she worked to clean up whatever wounds she could, the deadly risk of reopening the gruesome cuts narrowly avoided time and again.

"Do not touch the markings!" gasped the desperately tired tone of Jason Blood as he labored to reach Neron's victim, the hasty return to his human form leaving the wizard in a state of momentary fatigue. "There is a reason why the demon expended so much effort to enter this dimension."

"Now is not the time to be the knowledgeable asshat!" Zatanna hissed back while making certain to follow the elder magician's instructions. "Just keep the healing charms steady while I go get some bandages. . ."

"C.C.!" screeched another voice in a manner that immediately set off a peal of warning bells within Zatanna's already clustered train of thoughts. Thinking quickly, the raven-haired conjurer hastily slid into Robin's path as the young Green Lantern took to the sky in order to get to her friend quicker. The breath that she was holding back in her tightened lungs was finally let out as the young woman stopped inches in front of her before firing back a dangerous glare.

"What the hell is going on?" Stephanie snapped, the heat in the woman's glare wafting against Zatanna's face with as much intensity as Etrigan's murderous intent. "What happened?"

"Ah, yes. The overemotional one of Batman's lot," Jason noted dully while continuing to tender to Noah. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to still your unnecessary shouting and allow me to continue what must be done."

_Oh, for the love of. . . _Zatanna managed to get out of her head before she was distracted by the task of swerving into Stephanie's course of travel once again. "Robin, listen to me!" she pleaded even as Stephanie shot her a dangerous look of warning. "Noah's in trouble but he can be saved so long as we all concentrate on helping him!" Her words managed to bring the much more powerful woman in front of her to a stop but the accusatory flicker that rumbled through Robin's pale, blue eyes prompted Zatanna to try another track. "Look, just think of this as my way of making it up to Bruce for everything that's happened. Let me earn that."

Stephanie wasted a fraction of a second to tilt her head to one side as if the newfound angle would provide a bit more perspective on the plea given to her before she finally stepped around Zatanna in order to calmly jog over to her injured colleague. Her ring allowed the young Green Lantern to decipher a good percentage of what Jason was trying to do and it didn't take long at all for her to supply some tactfully-placed spectral bandages that would help in hastening the job along. "Is there a meaning behind all those little markings on his chest?"

Jason let out a grumble of assent as he ran his wrinkled fingertips along one of the shallower cuts along the left side of Noah's rib cage. "It is most likely why Neron instigated this present chaos at the risk of overextending his power. You'll understand my distractions but I have managed to identify several languages that Neron used although I must also confess that there are several that I could not even begin to decipher."

"Yeah, well how about focusing on the dying guy instead of the demonic word jumble," Stephanie groused back with equal discontent while also being distracted by whatever Neron had to say. She managed to keep her concentration as Zatanna provided some simple salves, gauze, and bandaging and she even worked her way through the urge to wonder over how the witch could so easily find what she was looking for within the cave's confines. As diligent as her efforts though, her attentiveness was finally broken as an array of footsteps sounded off against the nearby stone stairway. Looking up, she managed to easily make out Eddie, Lloyd, and Slade as they came to a stop at the base of the stairwell, the second of the gentlemen in the lead and looking somewhat prepared to deliver some bad news.

"They're attacked the manor, Zatanna," Lloyd began with a soft urgency, the serious tone in her brother's words leaving Stephanie momentarily confused. "There's not a whole lot that we can spare right now but. . ."

"I understand! Just give me who you can spare! Please!" Zatanna quickly exclaimed, the noticeable twist of panic in the witch's words confounding Stephanie even more.

"All right," The Black Dog replied with a quick nod of assent. "Take Robin and Slade with you. I'll keep my mind aligned with the former to make certain about whether or not you'll need any further assistance."

And, well, now Stephanie was just bumfuzzled. "Wait! Where the hell am I going?"

"And what makes you think that you can so easily order me around?"

Lloyd further enlivened his little sister's frustrations by turning to answer the second question first. "Just call it a calculated risk, old man," he answered with a somewhat expected ease that ultimately persuaded a quick, upward tilt to grace Deathstroke's shrouded lips. "Looks like Neron made a full exit from Nigma so he should be safe to move. Eddie, go upstairs and get Alfred so he can check things out."

Continuing to play his role, The Black Dog quickly stifled the urge to let out a deep yawn as he took in Stephanie's confusion with a somewhat opportunistic smirk. _"Not putting you in any danger, Tweety," _he calmly insisted through their shared telepathic link. _"I just want to watch over Glinda here while she goes to inspect the damages."_

"Yeah. . . but. . . Noah. . ." Stephanie mumbled as she watched Kid Devil race back upstairs, the burgeoning aggravation that had begun to settle in the midst of Lloyd's reassuring words finally letting itself out in the form of an odd grumble that was carried along with her as she rose back to her feet. "All right. All right." she relented with some hastily crafted enthusiasm. "Just beam me up, Scottina."

Lloyd chuckled as he noticed Zatanna was kind enough to offer back a sympathetic smile. _"Ronam Arataz ot Nruter!" _he heard the witch exclaim, the technique passed down from seven generations producing a flash of white light that briefly surrounded his newfound colleague and her two fellow travelers before they faded away without a trace. That duty done, The Black Dog quickly made his way to where he could safely stoop down at Noah's left, his somewhat chiseled face holding a mixture of concern, intrigue, and a slight tinge of panic.

"Looks like you've managed to save a life here, Shell of Etrigan."

Jason Blood kept his eyes firmly upon his unexpected charge, his millennia-long existence leaving the old man with far too much pride to take comfort in such a simple accomplishment. "Infections within the bloodstream are still a possibility but the shock has lessened to the point where he will not lapse into a coma," he calmly explained while examining Lloyd's accompanying ministrations with a critical eye. "Is it too much to hope that you've managed to glean some significance or meaningful intentions from Neron's recent events?"

Lloyd allowed himself a hunter's smirk as he made his way through the critique. "Yeah, there's beginning to be a little rhyme and reason to the demon's chaos," he confessed as he ran the fingertips of his left hand along a nasty welt just below Noah's right shoulder blade, the bruised aperture closing up as he went. "Of course, it's not like Batman won't find out the mystery before you and I so I think I'll just take my time in looking over this lovely bit of penmenship," he declared, his eyes betraying him only briefly while he examined Neron's work. "That's Dutch on the first stanza, if I'm not mistaken. An'. . . bloody hell. . . is that supposed to be Chinese?"

"Most likely," Blood offered in what passed for him as a kindly agreement. "I have also managed to identify traces of Gaelic and Navajo lettering along with the classical English characters. That being said, the fourth series of inscriptions is written in an idiom I couldn't even begin to identify."

"Kryptonian," Lloyd replied with a gloomy certainty, the half-demon already calculating what more needed to be done in order to get Noah ready to move to a more stable location. "Call me prideful if you must but I'm starting to think that the demonic upstart is getting a bit overproud of himself."

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower- Battle Simulation Center – 3:41 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Arrowette once again gave thought to the idea of shooting out the nearby speakers before finally relenting and releasing her intentions towards a less expensive target. Tuning out the pristine vocal stylings of Frank Sinatra as she adjusted her shot, Cecilia embraced the irreplaceable sensation of the long, steel-tipped dart whistling away from her outstretched arm while her eyes assured her that the arrow would go exactly where she wanted. The serenity was a fine exception to the present rule as far as she was concerned and the tip of her tongue managed to poke through her lightly clenched teeth as the sharp point of her shot sank into nearly the precise axis of the cloth-and-metal target that stood 20 yards away from her feet. Two more nearly flawless shots were successfully launched from the string before her thoughts managed to catch up with her once again, the tinkling of the piano keys tickling against her spine whether she liked it or not.

She had finally decided to stop putting so much effort into figuring out just how Batman had managed to convince her to stay up here. She supposed that she could have blamed it on her relief that everything seemed to be all right at the manor, at least relatively speaking, and that there was little for her to do in the city but those bits of enlightening news did little to appease her lingering irritability. Still, goodness knows that nearly two years of serving as Batman's patrol partner had made her much more comfortable with being satisfied with what little encouraging reinforcement there was to be offered but the fact remained that not even the loudest of _THUNK_s could satiate her now.

Maybe it was just the training area. Yeah, that was it. This place was far too flawless and clean and nothing like the stale air beneath Wayne Manor that she had so frequently found solace within. The absence of life fluttering above her head and the lack of an inactive audience could have certainly irked her and the possibility prompted the fair-haired archer to think back to those few, fortunate months at Happy Harbor, the first opportunity where she was allowed to fine tune her gift somewhere far away from her mother's prying eyes. It was where she learned how to listen for the chatter of friends rather than nervously await a chiding morsel of instruction or support.

The unwanted but expected noise of a door sliding open coupled with her lingering frustration as she calmly swerved around with her bow at the ready. To the credit of her audience, the gentleman did not so much as bat an eye as he observed the suddenly dangerous scene around him even though his air of nonchalance just as easy to puncture as Cecilia's controlled indifference.

"So you're pointing a weapon before you even say hello?" Green Arrow asked with his trademark debonair bluster. "You _have_ been hanging out with Batsie, haven't ya?"

The derisive snort Oliver received in return was a familiar response to the billionaire heir to the Queen fortune, so much so that he could almost begin to sympathize with Dinah for all those times he had treated her with such an uncouth rejoinder. Of course, having been both a giver and a receiver of such behavior, the marksman also was equipped with the best way to handle the situation. The knowledge that he had always liked it best if his questioning audience would just shut their traps and let him finish what he was doing inspired the guardian of Star City to do just that, his back easily finding purchase against the southern wall just as another consortium of moving targets presented themselves for punishment. He continued to watch silently as his daughter smoothly went through her paces, her grip steady but sure as she progressed through the training exercise at an impressive pace that the girl's mother couldn't have hoped to pull off on her best day.

Cecilia finally spared him a glare as she moved to reload her quiver in the time allotted to her, the young lady clearly having no trouble hefting the fully-loaded pack back onto her shoulders upon the completion of her task. "Don't even dare to try to give me any advice or constructive criticism or at least one of these is going through your undercarriage," she warned him as her fingers briefly grazed the shafts of one of the aforementioned arrows before setting it against the string.

Ollie managed to avoid flinching as he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, I wasn't about to," he said calmly, his voice sliding just over the buzzing sound that rose from the speakers that signaled the start of the second half of the exercise. "You know, I was telling the truth when I said that I didn't know that you were my daughter."

_THUNK! _

"Uh huh," Cecilia gasped out with a false degree of fatigue as she reloaded between the blinking of her eyes. "Whatever."

_THUNK!_

"I'm serious, Cecilia," Oliver insisted while continuing to watch his daughter work, the sudden urge to say kid or some other title of affection quickly stifled in the wake of Cecilia's impressive shooting. "Your mother and I may have annoyed each other every now and again but I never would have thought that she'd keep something like this a secret. I mean. . . this is Bonnie we're talking about!"

_THUNK! _

The process was just as simple as breathing for the fuming woman. Pull an arrow from the quiver, set it to the string, stretch your arm back, wait for your eyes to catch up and let it fly.

_THUNK!_

"I mean, I always heard the rumors and I always thought about it when you and those kids started working together. Young. . . Crusaders or somethin' like that."

_THUNK!_

"Young _Justice_," Arrowette seethed back before adding another successful bulls-eye to her already impressive performance. "And if you were really suspicious about what my mother was doing then why didn't you, oh, I don't know, actually check on it!"

_THUNK! _

Ollie couldn't help but notice that his daughter probably could have taught Connor a thing or two about following your targets from the corner of her eyes. Granted, the kid seemed to need a little more heft in her shot, maybe by adjusting the angle of her pull and. . .

_And where in the fuck did that come from_, Oliver interrupted himself with deserved self-condemnation. "Look. I know you're not in the mood to listen to any excuses but. . . I just wanted you to know that, if I knew back then. . ."

"Oh, give me a break!" Cecilia finally snapped out with a snarl as she allowed the next array of moving marks to pass by so she could meet the eyes of her faltering biological father. "I read your psychological profile and I've heard all the stories about how you acted back then! You probably would have just ran away the second you thought you could get away with it."

The champion of Star City remained understandably quiet as the training exercise whirred to a stop. As much as he was hoping that his words would draw some kind of reaction and how he had steeled himself for what was to come, the veteran crime fighter still found himself taken aback. "Yeah, you're probably right," he softly confessed, the hushed words imbued with a specific form of guilt that Green Arrow had come to know quite well. It was the kind of remorse that Ollie had seen in so many of the alcoholics and drug addicts he had come across while heading up the Star City Youth Center, the ones that were trying desperately to break their harmful habits in order to keep the attachments that they had left in their lives. They clung to the possibility of redemption like the closest life raft from the wake of a disaster, their desperation leaving them blind to the possibility that the source for safety could doom them that much quicker.

Because what would happen if they finally said enough? What if they were gone the next time you stumbled or even so much as turned away?

On the other hand, what if you were worried about the maybe? What better way was there to get a definite response than by lashing out the first moment you could?

"Look, I wasn't planning on making such a big deal about it," Cecilia began, the intervention a blessing for Oliver and his pitiable attempts to find something else to say. "I mean, I already have a great family and it's not like I'm being deprived or being forced to do something I don't want to do anymore. I guess. . . I was just sitting there throughout all that mess and worrying that I might lose what I have and. . . and I guess I was just tryin' to find something that I could do."

Ollie let out a quiet "huh" as he bobbed his head up and down, the goateed marksman understanding all too well about the lure of overcompensation. "Well, that's probably good 'cause, to be honest, I don't have a fuckin' clue about what the hell I should say right now."

Arrowette would have given a great deal to be able to hold back the thin bit of laughter that escaped from her nose and throat but her heart seemed to once again overrule those usually reliable body parts. "Look, Green Arrow. I'm not asking for anything from you. It was just something I needed to get off my chest and I thought that you'd want to hear it. No more, no less." Cecilia reassured Oliver with a slight smile as she turned around to put away the practice bow and what remained in her quiver within the assigned racks on the western side of the room. Perhaps it was good that the task forced her to look away from her audience so that she had no way of registering the trickles of disappointment that passed over her father's face. If anything else, the ignorance didn't allow her to use that as an excuse when she felt compelled to turn back around with the slightest trace of hopefulness in the blue eyes she had inherited from him.

"But. . . you know. . . if you want to drop by every now and again then. . . that'd be fine," Cecilia almost wanted to slap herself as a rightful penalty for her stammering but, quite frankly, she was embarrassed enough by her own behavior as it was. "I mean, not that you need to or anything. I just thought it would be a good idea. . ." The archer found her words cut short as she unconsciously slid several steps backward to get out of Ollie's way. Following her father's steps, she narrowed her eyes as Ollie moved to grab the bow she had been using, her senses locked onto the carefree expression on Green Arrow's face as he looked the weapon over with a well-trained touch. The silence that came with her fervency lingered as the champion of Star City made his way to where she had been standing only moments ago, the well-practiced patience she had seen when Roy joined her on the target range suddenly being provided with a mirror image in her mind.

"You're a pretty good shot," Ollie noted while giving the horsehair string a starting pull, a knowing smirk gracing his handsome face as he turned back to fire a charming wink.

"Better than you," Cissie fired back, the sudden spark of anger coercing her into speaking with a tone that she wasn't really wanting to put forward. However, rather than apologize or shut her hands over her mouth in embarassment, she kept her eyes on her father and continued to play her hand.

"Yeah, maybe," Ollie allowed with a tone that brought a matching smirk onto Cecilia's lips. "Probably not but, hey, there's only really one way to find out, right?"

* * *

_October 30__th__ – Wayne Manor – 4:04 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Zatanna shut her eyes as tightly as she could, the pulsing light on her left still managing to seep a part of the way through but still leaving her well within the surrounding darkness. A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she tilted her face up towards the moonlight, her neck letting out a sore complaint as her head loosely bobbled back and forth between her shoulder blades. The physical distraction was almost enough for her to lose the grip she had on the shattered bits of marble, the blunt edges sliding against her palm before she chose to clench her right hand into a fist and hold its contents tight. The slight tinge of pain from the dull scratching against her fingers broke Zatanna free from her fatigue as she opened her eyes wide again, the witch forcing herself to take a good look at the world around her.

She wished that she could hear her father rather than simply remember his sage advice, the words lodged within her long-term memory almost enough to summon the scent of kiriana and well-aged whiskey that always seemed to surround Zatara's favorite nook of the manor even well-after he had faded into the hereafter.

_There are always consequences to our craft, little gypsy_, he had warned while moving to place her on his knee, a gentle smile poking through the wizened intelligence of the master magician. _Even our best and brightest deeds could lead to the worse things we could imagine._

Just like the easy recollection of her father's favorite lesson, Zatanna could clearly recall how she had frowned at the possibility of it. That memory and the thirty years that had passed since then had allowed that dismay to ripen and mature to the point where the starkness of it was enough to allow her to lose some of the shards of marble through her quickly unclenched fist before she moved to collect them once again.

But then there was that gentle smile. Maybe even a kiss on the forehead as her hero went on. _But never let that interfere with how you choose to live your life, my child. Put all your heart and soul within everything you do and I promise you that you will never want for anything more._

The quiet rustlings of a rose bush to her right informed Zatanna that her anticipated guest had no desire to try and surprise her. Grateful for the courtesy but unable to put it to words, she took a moment to admire the sight of her oldest friend wading through the undergrowth in a modest white work shirt and brown slacks. Many of her associates, both inside the superhero community and out, often said it was strange to see Bruce outside of his trademark cape and cowl but, truth be told, this had always been the Batman she had remembered. This was the grown-up version of the boy she had approached all those years ago because he looked so serious and sad and she wanted to see if she could cheer him up. That unwavering connection forced her to eke out a sad smile as he moved to sit next to her on the lip of the ornate fountain, his characteristic lack of immediate insight leaving the both of them trapped together in the silence.

"You know something," Zatanna finally began while drumming the fingers of her free hand against the marble beneath her. "I thought it was so funny that such a spoiled rich kid could be so shy and antisocial. I mean. . ." A chuckle slipped through her unadorned lips as she shook her head back and forth. "I was just coming up to give you a slice of your own birthday cake and you looked at me like I was about to bite your head off." The deep sigh that Bruce offered back in return left Zatanna with a twinge of guilt and a half-hearted desire to apologize until her old friend finally spoke up.

"I wasn't scared of you," Bruce said with a note of stubbornness that forced him into a great deal of hemming and hawing. "I. . . guess I haven't changed that much since then, Zanna."

The sad smile reemerged once again. "No, you most definitely have," Zatanna insisted with a smidgen of her carefree façade, the same attitude she had been chiseling to perfection since childhood until it became little more than a second skin. "All these things you're doing. . . taking care of Robin and the others, defending them against the Justice League and even coming to see me right now. You wouldn't have been able to do that back then. I mean, I had to pull out the best trick I had just to get you to crack a smile."

Bruce couldn't help but showcase his disbelief. "You just summoned a bunch of soap bubbles," he said dully once he had recovered his traditional lack of emotional stock.

"And that was the best I could do. Just like you coming here to check on me was the best you could do."

The man behind The Batman bore his old friend's kind words with a proper measure of guilt, both the boy and the man simply unwilling to see the world as easily as she could. "I'm so sorry, Zanna," he finally managed to get out, the force of his regret preventing him from looking his friend in the eye. "You lost your home because I brought you into this fight and I just wish there was something more I could do."

Zatanna would have given up all the magic in the world to have the strength to keep Bruce's gaze as he turned to look at her. "It's all right," she insisted while curling her right hand into a fist once again. "I knew exactly what I was getting into when I chose to help take the fight to Neron and I'll accept the consequences." The noble ambition she insisted on working with suddenly sounded quite good to her ears even as her heart hollowed out just a little bit more. She was so distracted looking into herself, in fact, that she let out a jump as Bruce unfurled her hands before taking them into his own, his firm palms enveloping hers in a way that shielded her pale fingers from the chill of the morning air.

"Your father got that from Nanba Parbat, didn't he?" the detective asked while plucking a piece or two from the witch's grip. "You said he gave it to you for your tenth birthday."

Another bit of necessary silence wafted through the courtyard with only the slight chirping of some cicadas to break it. "You know, given our line of work, it's kind of amazing that it lasted this long," Zatanna confessed, her smile requiring a little less prodding to emerge than before. "That kind of luck sort of takes away a bit of the sting that comes from the high home insurance costs, huh?" She raised her eyebrows almost desperately just before she took in Bruce's disbelief as if it were a drug, her teeth filtering the latest gust as she finally broke into an honest grin. "And I've been meaning to ask. Now that she's single and you've gotten her son and her granddaughter under your roof, are you finally going to try for the trifecta and pluck Dinah like you've wanted to all these years?"

The brief flicker of aggravated sputtering that soaked the peaceful battlefield before Batman could fire back with a cold glare was enough for Zatanna to lose herself in her laughter, the proof that the world would keep turning serving as a blessed relief.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bruce replied with as much sobriety as he could muster in the face of his apparently hysterical friend. "You know, I came out here to see if you needed help. Not to feed into your own apparent insanity."

Zatanna finally took a moment to recollect herself while bringing her unencumbered hand up to her lips in order to subdue her smile. "Well, don't you know, good sir? This is your role in our long-running show. You be the gloomy guss who never cracks a smile while I dazzle them with my own, sheer fabulousness."

The time-honored half-smirk that served as Bruce Wayne's response seemed like a well-earned reward. "So this is just an act then?" Bruce asked with upraised eyebrows.

Zatanna suddenly and sincerely wished that she hadn't left her top hat back in The Batcave. "Never underestimate the value of synergy," she provided with a surprisingly shrewd degree of wisdom. "At least until the curtain comes down."

Bruce was sorely tempted to grumble at the hackneyed metaphor but a stiff wind blowing from the east brought him to wondering just how many more curtains he would have to deal with now that he was bringing so many more familiar faces back into his life. He had weathered most of Diana and Ollie's sharp words and he had nodded his head in time to Kara's impassioned plea but the simple fact of the matter was that he had long come to appreciate the secrecy he had established. He had managed to handpick (except for Wally) men and women who he could connect to either through loss or shared obsessions or through a mutual desire to make something out of what life had handed to them and now he couldn't help but think that his labors would all soon be for nothing. The contented sense of order was threatening to fall apart and, as much as he had preached the idea of being prepared for anything, the idea of being asked to change and adjust to that particular portion of the world was beginning to frighten him in a sense that not even The Joker could hope to match.

And it wasn't until he turned to see the expectant sparkle in Zatanna's eyes that he could even think that this call for transparency was something that could ever be considered a good idea.

"How's Noah doing?" his old friend asked with a calm but quiet ease.

"He'll be all right," Bruce softly replied, his eyes suddenly quite interested in determining if there was anything interesting to be seen on the windswept ground at his feet. "Thank you for your part in coming to his aid."

Zatanna, seeing that she wouldn't get anywhere with the task of meeting her friend's eyes, devoted her attentions to the mystic light shining to her left. "I should have seen that sooner," she inevitably replied while looking down to examine the bits of broken marble once again. "Maybe it was just me wanting to pretend that Neron wasn't as much of a threat as he's become. My God, he broke through the defenses on both your home and mine and he managed to sneak a portion of himself into The Riddler without any one of us noticing!"

"That's a trick that not even The Sinestro Corps was able to pull off," Bruce conferred, the brooding billionaire almost sounding pleased that he could resort to shop talk. "And it's clear that whatever he's doing is affecting the supernatural bridges, for lack of a better term, that tie together so much of what we've chosen to deal with."

Zatanna nodded her head in agreement, her lips pushing inward as she thought the matter over. "Etrigan's been popping up without Jason even bothering to call for him, The Condemner is suddenly able to resist whatever hold has been placed on him and Circe's making so many trips between Hell and back that I'd hate to see her passport." The forced joke was nearly all the way out of her thoughts before she could even push back her thoughts towards the foul goddess who had left her fingerprints all over the ruins of what was once her childhood home. She tried to fight back the sob but it trickled out anyway and she hated herself for it. In fact, she could almost hear the teasing of the gangly, sun burnt teen who had unapologetically fallen in love with the mysterious boy who had found her father in the middle of Europe just to ask to be taught everything about the art of escape.

The warmth of the firm grip on her shoulder nearly startled Zatanna out of her skin.

"The months I spent with you and your father were one of the few times in my life where I can look back at what I was doing and smile," Bruce said roughly, his patois a mixture of that young man and the dark knight he had become in the years gone by. "And I may not have anything physical to remind me of those times but I'll always have the memories. . . just like you will of Zatara Manor."

Zatanna wasn't surprised in the least that Bruce was already up to his feet and ready to walk away. As a matter of fact, she was amazed that he had opened himself up for that long and was even further surprised when he put a quick stop to his steady gait.

"I know that this isn't much right now but it does get better," Bruce added flatly. "It will whether you like it or not."

The witch didn't think it was right to laugh and she didn't have enough energy for an outright smile so Zatanna settled with a light sigh as she watched her old friend walk away. The prickly early-morning gusts ran through her once again but it somehow seemed a little easier to weather, the sudden urge to shut her eyes not carried out because she felt she had to but because she knew that she could and would open them once again.

"Thank you, John," she whispered to no one as she stood up herself, the majority of the marble shards forgotten as she used her light to make her way back to the manor.

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Watchtower – Observation Deck Seven – 4:06 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"You didn't like this place before."

Kara batted down her knowing smirk before slowly turning around to meet her cousin's curious gaze. He looked just as composed and unruffled as he had been at the start of the hearing and served as almost a polar opposite of the disheveled, exhausted pile of skin, bones, and straw-blonde hair that had been looking back at her every now and again for the past half-hour or so.

"I would have thought that you'd still be at the hearing."

Superman first responded by giving a cautious smile before absently scratching an itch on the back of his head in a way that somehow didn't make him look like a complete twit. "Well, I figured that I would leave the matter up to Diana, Dick and Waller for now," he said with just the slightest trace of guilt. "They're much better suited for all that talking anyway and Nightwing has to pay for his perjury somehow," he then confessed, his dry smile coaxing a chuckle from his fellow Kryptonian refugee while he moved to join her at the long, pristinely white banister that separated the wide walking space from the glorious view of Earth's moon. "You know, I can still remember the way you were fidgeting the first time we came up here."

The insistence could have been infuriating but Kara found that she could endure it with astonishing ease. "Well, I wasn't really up to go stargazing back then," she replied with a mixture of juvenile blatancy and weary cheer. "I mean, it was pretty much my only form of entertainment for a couple of decades, after all."

Kal-L let out a sigh. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't really thinking about that," he confessed sheepishly, a quick bark of a laugh poking from his lips. "Then again, I'm beginning to think that the mistake was just par for the course. . ."

"Don't start apologizing, Clark," Kara broke in, her usage of her cousin's Earth-given name momentarily startling The Man of Steel. "You didn't do anything wrong. Great Rao, you tried to show me this world because you wanted me to love it just as much as you did. Everybody should be so lucky as to have somebody so willing to put themselves aside." The Last Daughter of Krypton had hoped that her truthful words would seal the matter shut but was also pretty damn certain that it wouldn't. And, sure enough, it wasn't long before the thankful smile that Kal-El delivered in response began to take on a tinge of guilt.

"But I didn't do it just for you, Kara. A part of me, a large part of me, just wanted to make sure that I wasn't alone when it came to who I was and where I came from. I looked at you and I saw the opportunity to learn about what was handed down to me. You were a chance to figure out what I was supposed to do from something. . . somebody that could look back at me and respond." It was hard to believe that the indefatigable Superman could suddenly look so exhausted but there was just a moment when Earth's greatest hero suddenly looked like he wasn't ready to support the weight of the world on his shoulders. "And that's why I couldn't always see you as somebody who needed help. Somebody who deserved the chance to try and find out the answers for themselves." The urge to look away was too much for the hero but he still made certain to keep his attention where it belonged. "I suppose that's why Bruce was always so suspicious about you. Trying to make up for my sightlessness by. . ."

"Being a weapons-grade douche bag?" Kara offered, the almost pained grimace her cousin delivered almost coercing her into an outright, gut-bursting round of laughter. "Wow, Kal. You know, Lex Luthor would have beaten you years ago if he just substituted all the kryptonite for a George Carlin comedy routine."

Superman looked back at her chortling kin with even more cautiousness than before. "You don't. . . really like that kind of thing, do you?"

"Eh, I prefer his books," Kara said blithely while easing Clark's nerves with a slight grin, her half-turn a silent invitation to join her in gazing down at the looming lunar penumbra. "Man, if only Krypton's gossip hounds could see us now: the children of the planet's two most influential scientists hanging out on a rinky-dink space station thousands of light-years away from our home world. And not even bothering to try and kill each other at that!"

The half-Kryptonian did her best not to cringe upon noticing that her words hadn't draw the slightest hint of a smile from her audience. _And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why Steph is the stand-up comedian of our group_, she couldn't help but muse while summoning up the courage to look back at Superman in full.

"I should have told you that I wasn't ready to be Supergirl. I mean, back then my head was being stretched here, there, and everywhere but I was so scared about what would happen if I told you that I wasn't really the glorious thing that you wanted to see or the "greatest gift" that my father had made me out to be. It was easier to pretend that Darkseid just manipulated me into trying to hurt you because, even back then, I knew that the darkness was there. That was _my _fault. . ."

"Kara. . ."

"I'm a murderer, Kal-El," Kara said back evenly, the deceptively strong creature bulling her way through once again while refusing to allow her audience to look away. "I've killed guilty and innocent people alike. I've slaughtered people that wanted me dead and laid waste to people who didn't know me from Adam and a part of me is still that same monster that burned her own biological mother alive." The flaxen-haired warrior woman wasn't certain how she felt about how easily the words ran off her tongue but she still knew that they needed saying despite her cousin's forced efforts to look stone-faced in the midst of the truth. "I may be the product of a monster but there's only so much blame I can put on Zor-el and I will shoulder that burden with the dignity it deserves. I will do what I was created to do but on my own terms because that's the only way I'll ever be able to prove to anyone that my destiny is my own."

Superman allowed her cousin to let out a breath before continuing on.

"So does this mean that you won't become Supergirl again?"

Kara found that she couldn't even come close to supplying a cognizant response to that. Luckily, it appeared that her cousin seemed more than willing to wait until she could recollect herself, the disturbingly impish gleam on those world-famous baby-blue eyes managing to knock more wind out of her sails than any punch Hank Henshaw had thrown her way. "Kal. . . that. . . that's not funny!" she finally managed to sputter out in the face of Superman's slowly rising smile. "Look, I know you're trying to brush this off but. . . this is who I am and it's who I always will be."

"And I know that," Clark calmly replied in a way that made Kara just want to slug him. "So will you at least try to give me a chance to understand that? Can I hear all of your stories, both the good and the bad ones, so maybe I'll have a shot at getting to know my real cousin?"

The question managed to place another puncture in Kara's demeanor as she sank her long arms against the banister, a disgruntled "ruggggg" slipping from her that earned her a gentle smile. She was quite grateful to discover that her cousin was making no effort to hug her or make any other prosaic gesture as she calmed herself down once again to the point where she could take on Superman's know-it-all smirk.

"So. . ." Clark finally ventured as Kara looked back up at him. "Exactly how much of all of this can I blame on that Black Dog fellow?" The exaggerated groan and the subsequent slumping of Kara's head back into her folded arms drew a chuckle from Clark before he continued on. "Oracle's been working non-stop since the story broke to gather information and she managed to group together a lot of shots of this guy with a woman who looked an awful lot like Hermione Granger," he explained while displaying his well-practiced act of the wide-eyed reporter he had presented to the world during his first few years in Metropolis. "You know, I could probably pull some strings and get you a meeting with the cast. Maybe even get you a visit to the set of the next film." Superman was quite keen with going on-and-on but an impressive copy of a very familiar glare managed to shut him up and forced the full-blooded Kryptonian to be satisfied with a carefree laugh.

"It was just an inside joke," Kara insisted, her peevish tone trying desperately to hold in her unwanted petulance. "I mean, we needed to find a way that I could be seen on camera without, you know, actually being seen on camera so Steph hit on the idea after a Harry Potter film marathon and Lloyd put it into action."

Clark seemed to have no trouble with accepting the situation with a nod. "Lloyd, huh? And, at the risk of sounding like Bruce, I'm sure you're aware of the young man's past?" The founding member of The Justice League was damn well aware that the unnecessary inquiry was a bit of a gamble and found that he nearly let out a sigh of relief when Kara responded with a wry smile of her own.

"It's no less sad or stained with blood than my own, Clark," she said with a well-practiced simplicity before twisting her lips and adding, "although I've noticed that it seems a bit less dramatic and grand now that Steph keeps insisting that she's going to sell our stories to Lifetime."

Now it was Clark's turn to look concerned once again. "Oh, dear. I'm not sure that I should like how easy those words rolled off the tongue."

Kara fired back with a slow, easy smile, the kind of beam that he hadn't seen from Kara during her days on Themyscira or while quarantined within The Fortress of Solitude. "I love him, Clark," she replied, her initial response quickly found to be not enough to suit her. "No, it's not even that. I don't just love him. I need the way he challenges me and forces me to be better than what I should be. I just can't turn away from what I was and what I've become with him by my side and I know that it may not be for forever but. . . right here and now. . ."

"It's more than enough," Clark concluded, his own thoughts naturally shifting towards his own life and the wonderful woman that was waiting for him below. "Still, I want to reserve the right to pound his face into the dirt if he ever treats you badly."

Kara couldn't even try and be hostile this time. "Well, just let me know in advance because I know that our little group would want to put that brouhaha on pay-per-view."

* * *

_October 30__th__ – The Batcave – 4:29 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Stephanie's brow furrowed as the Green Lantern concentrated on a magnified version of the plethora of characters and text that Neron had carved and singed onto Noah's chest. She had managed to fight back the latest wave of anger she felt over her failure to come to the aid of a friend and the subsequent nausea that came with recollecting about where this multilingual message had originated from while using her ring to perform the heavy lifting, the Oan-crafted bit of weaponry effortlessly doubling as a universal translator. About 90 silent seconds passed before she was finally content with the results of her work and she acknowledged her expectant audience with a droning "hmmmmm".

"Well, what of it?"

The fourth person to don the mantle of Robin quietly cleared her throat. "Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely _OWWWWWW!_"

"Bloody little twit!" Lloyd spat back even as the echo from his left hand cuffing the back of Stephanie's head continued to echo through the catacombs. "Can't you just be serious for just one sodding second?" he begged, his tone a bit forcibly serious given his own desire to chuckle.

"Oh, all right," Robin compromised, the fair-haired Gothamite sparing a bit of a glare to the cultured gentlemen that was doubtlessly the cause of her big brother's sudden prudishness. "Well, it's just like Baxter Stockman said. The second part of it is definitely written in Parmian."

"As in the same language of the bloke who you got that ring from," Lloyd continued, his hypothesis quickly supported by Stephanie's quick nod. "So that's nine different dialects in total: Dutch, Parmanian, some form of Chinese calligraphy that hasn't been employed since the 13th century, Kryptonian, Navajo, Old English, Gaelic, Aramaic, and whatever that chicken scratch may be that not even the ring can pick up."

"While the meaning of the mystery dialect may be unclear it is reasonably certain to believe that any reliable translation would only serve to provide more information upon what we've already managed to deduce," Jason Blood considered, the immortal's cultured tones bringing a sense of decorum to the proceedings that Stephanie was sorely tempted to poke fun at despite the circumstances. "Neron employed Nigma to send an invitation to a collection of individuals he has either deemed worthy of his presence."

"Or worthy of being killed by him," Lloyd threw in, The Black Dog's follow-up earning him a silent hum of confirmation from the human host of Etrigan. "And we're certain that he's managed to gain full control of the dimensional nexus between the nether dimensions and the connecting pathways to Earth?"

Jason bobbed his head up and down once again as he brought the aged fingers of his right hand up to his chin. "Zatanna and I were able to confirm the matter shortly before you summoned us here," he said with his characteristic grimness. "Of course, there are a number of possibilities towards how the beast has managed to accomplish this feat, not the least of which is his illegitimate possession of The Bane of Velius, but I am afraid that the possibilities of how now pale in comparison to the chances of when."

"As in the two weeks we've got until this guy's contract with Eddie finally gets put into effect and he gets to try and run roughshod over this perfectly abysmal planet of ours," Stephanie confirmed, the young lady trying her best not to look pissed when Jason quietly replied with a look that clearly said that the old codger was surprised that she had been able to follow the matter up to this distressing point. "But then why should he go through the trouble of the Rosetta Stone language lesson here? Why not just wait it out for the next few days and just get ready for the hellfire and brimstone?"

"Because this bastard's a showman," Lloyd spat back, the Brit's intensity coercing Stephanie toward turning her eyes away from the computer screen in order to take a good look at the half-demon hostile glare. "There's a reason behind which monsters he chose to serve as his lieutenants and how many he chose to invite over to his side of the playing field. Neron wants to make a grand performance out of this before he closes the curtain down on everything an' the only reason he would think to put himself at risk like that is because he fervently believes that he's going to win. An', just to pad his gamble, he's offering an opportunity for some of the few handfuls of people that could stop him over to his pad so he can deal with them on his own terms."

"I am inclined to agree," Jason supplied, the usually calm gaze of Merlin's former apprentice taking on a hint of midnight-black as his concerned frothed toward the surface. "The question now is whether we decipher the rest of this mystery and meet the monster on his own terms or wait for Bloomberg's twenty-first birthday and accept the potential apocalypse that will come when Neron will finally be able to bring his entire army to bear after thousands of years of restless anticipation."

Stephanie couldn't help but look from one half-demon to the other as they all thought the matter over as the image of Neron's summons hung over her head.

"So. . . should we flip a coin here?"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, lookie here. I finally got an issue out ahead of schedule. Granted, it's just two days ahead of schedule but, damn it, I'll take what I can get these days!

As always, thanks to everyone who provided feedback and thereby provides fuel for the fire that keeps me coming back to this story when I could be doing something more useful. We all need somewhat productive things to do in our lives in order to prevent us from doing phenomenally stupid things and, well, this has been a big one of mine and I'm hoping I can keep it that way. That being said, I think I'll take some time out and get in some nice bits of sleep so I can drum some energy back into this tired mind of mine. Of course, please bear in mind that I'm currently writing this at my workplace so if I get caught and am fired for my malingering activities then could any of you kindly point me to the nearest unemployment office?

* * *

_Issue #107 Preview_

So what do Jason and Lloyd know that we don't? What are the clues behind Neron's grisly invite that have been uncovered and may send nine unfortunate souls straight into the domain of the most powerful demon throughout the nether dimensions? Oh, and who will take off Selina's garter? All this and more kindly exposition as _Hell is Other People _kicks off with the next installment of The Misfits: Circular Contentment. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	107. Circular Contentment

Issue #107

Circular Contentment

_October 30__th__ – The Batcave – 6:32 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Despite the healthy supply of urgent tasks that awaited him up above, Alfred Pennyworth couldn't help but take a moment to hang back at the edge of the stairwell so he could take in the unusual collage of guests that currently graced the underbelly of the mansion. The majority of the brave men and women were quite familiar to his eyes and maybe that was why his sights soon steered him towards the fretful demeanor of Edward Bloomberg, the butler's concern sharpening as he observed the young demon pacing back and forth within his small portion of the periphery. The old man knew enough of what was going on with Master Timothy to recognize that the fuming young man had become quite the friend for the former Gotham-based Robin and tie uncertainty that riddled the Teen Titan's every movement rang a bit of sympathy within the caretaker of the manor. Perturbed by his inability to find a solution to the young man's problem, the butler then cast his gaze to the more affable appearance of Zatanna Zatara, the witch and longtime friend of the manor and its inhabitants looking tired and worn from her past endeavors and losses but still appearing to be quite ready to take on what was asked of her. Of course, there was little doubt that some of this endurance could be allotted to the continued vigilance of one Jason Blood and that earned the immortal warlock a bit of Alfred's attention as the manservant casually observed the centuries-old man holding a steaming cup of Bai Hao green tea while standing slightly away from his younger comrade and waiting patiently to make his presence felt.

"Batman, is there anything that we can do for your comrade-in-arms?" asked a familiar voice, the gentleman's clear tones amplified by the speakers attached to the monitor that enabled the last of the morning's expected visitors to make his presence felt despite being thousands of miles away. "I figure that it's the least I could do given what your soldiers just did for Metropolis."

Batman quietly waved his old friend's offer away with a curt swipe of his right hand. "There's no need, Superman. All legal and safety-related quagmires aside, the simple fact is that there is nothing that can be provided for Noah Kuttler that we can't already supply."

The Man of Steel showcased a hint of lingering astonishment as he considered the matter over once again. "The Calculator," he said with a mild hint of astonishment while shaking his head to and fro. "And he was responsible for getting the word out that Alexander Luthor's Society was going to attack Metropolis? _He's _the one. . ." The world's most familiar face suddenly seemed to be quite amused with the absurdity of all the notions dancing around his head. "Do you have any idea just how much of an explanation you're going to have to make for all this, old chum?"

Batman, as was his way, offered the amiable Kryptonian a somewhat toned down version of his familiar glare. "If we could continue," he carried on, his cutting tone indicating that he would accept nothing less. "Perhaps Jason could provide an explanation of the precise details in regards to Neron's plans."

The flesh and bone cage of Etrigan seemed to take a moment to ponder that possibility over before taking a quick sip from his crystal teacup. "Perhaps I could," he proposed after a shallow, courtly swallow. "However, given that he's here already, I believe I will allow Mister Thomas the honor."

Now it was Lloyd's turn to look perturbed as every eye was soon cast upon the British half-demon. In response, The Black Dog responded with a quiet sigh while his own hazel orbs briefly caught the critical glare of the Justice League's chairman before he wisely decided to devote his attention upon a more supportive playing field.

"Well, though there are a number of factors to consider when determining how it came to this, the true crux of the matter is a bargain conducted by Neron nearly three years ago wherein the greater demon offered the essence and powers of a demon to Edward Bloomberg. Of course, these kinds of barters tend to have their own conditions behind them and, suffice it to say, the greater demon was able to take advantage of the bargain. So, as it stands, Neron is to receive Bloomberg's soul upon his 21st birthday, the transaction serving as the first step towards Bloomberg's eternal servitude."

The second-in-command of The Misfits briefly thought over whether he should spare a hint of sympathy for the scarlet-skinned brooder who had unwillingly brought this calamity down among them but ultimately figured he was pressed enough for time as it was. "Knowing that he now had a chance to access the Earth's astral plane from his own dimensional prison, Neron employed the additional power he received from the broken bargain to purloin a powerful magical artifact known as The Bane of Velius from its rightful owner. Then, using the power he gained from acquiring that, he has succeeded in amassing an army of condemned souls that he will then be able to fully employ once Bloomberg turns the legal drinkin' age nearly 10 days from now."

Superman offered a slight nod as a confirmation that he understood the background information. "And just what are the specifics behind this 'opportunity', Mister Thomas," he then replied, his knowing tone a fine sign that he already had a strong idea what the answer would be.

Lloyd let out a breath before responding. "Upon the completion of the bargain, the gaps in the dimensional nexus between the nether dimensions and our world will be opened a hint wider in order to allow Neron to make his rightful claim. When that happens, he'll then be able to use his own influence and the power behind The Bane of Velius to open up the barrier in full and send his armies to Earth in full rather than the little samplings we've gotten so far. The raven-haired gentleman couldn't quite explain it but the feeling of Batman and Superman's eyes on him made him wonder if he was doing or saying something wrong. That uncertainty shifted his attention to his friends and loved ones around him, his tired mind pondering over what he could have done better or anything he could have forgotten. "And now there's no way to keep this from happening. Neron holds all the cards and the only choice we have in the matter is to either respond to this invitation or wait for when Neron finally plays his entire hand."

Superman, in return, paid the proper respects to the gravity of the situation before continuing on, his chiseled countenance reflecting a calm, cool poise. "I've had Hal examine the message as well and it seems that the translation you provided is accurate," he assured the crowd in Wayne Manor before his eyebrows knitted in an expression of mild confusion. "If I may ask, why do you believe that the summons is only for nine people? After all, there doesn't appear to be any indication to a limit within the message itself."

"Because that number is the connection within all the games that Neron has played beforehand in order to make his presence felt," Batman said with typical dark certainty. "There are nine stanzas within his message and we have reason to believe that Neron has recruited eight other generals in order to help lead his troops when the invasion comes to the surface world. Additionally, the crimes of each of those generals can be at least loosely linked to the vices supplied in Dante's _Inferno_."

"Yeahbutwut?" Robin couldn't help but ask, the newly made connection registering a bit of a kick start to the Green Lantern's thought processes but still not enough to hide all of her confusion. "Wait a second! You mean to tell me that Neron, king of the big, bad manipulator of us puny mortals, is taking a big-ass chunk of his idea from some old book written by a 'piddly human'?"

Many within the cavern seemed to follow along with Stephanie's doubt but the low chuckle that broke through the uncertain silence needed only moments to overcome it. "Well, Tweety. 'S not like all these legends are just a part of humanity's whim and whimsy," Lloyd replied with a somewhat audacious tone. "As the boss said, Neron doesn't just want what he thinks he's got coming to him. This is a monster that's had thousands of years of failure to look back on and let season and, now that success is finally in his grasp, he's choosing to make a show out of it."

"Well, given this creature's past actions, I wouldn't turn my faith away from that possibility," Superman noted. "So, going on the logic that your deduction is on the money, do we know who these nine generals are?"

Batman's first rejoinder was a firm bob of his head. "We've managed to confirm the vast majority of them but the fact that we can't manage to make a full confirmation lends a bit of a disagreement to the theory at hand," the detective confessed while crossing his brawny arms and locking them lightly against the base of his torso. "Sebastian Blood, a vampiric-like creature who began life itself as a corpse, would fall quite nicely into the category of limbo between the redeemable and those too conscionable to be truly considered as damned whereas Chronos' waste of the awe-inspiring power he inherited by choosing to meet his own selfish desires could be considered gluttony. Likewise, Ishmael Gregor's lifelong struggle to acquire greater wealth and prosperity by any means necessary would draw him the sin of avarice while Arthur Light's entire existence would seem to be devoted to an amoral surrender to lust."

Superman kept still in the wake of the fourth assertion, the proud champion's urge to shudder in the midst of recalling Doctor Light's repugnant past actions requiring a great deal of effort to push back down. "I see. And the others?"

"The twice departed Ma'alefa'ak, Circe, a greater demon known as Zalabarda, and Neron himself," Batman replied. "They respectively represent wrath, fraud, heresy, and betrayal, the last proclamation doubtlessly serving as one of our foe's typical gestures designed to present his superiority even to those who would aid him towards his ascendency to the mortal world."

Frequently considered to be guilty of the same prideful maneuver, Superman took a quiet moment to take in the information and, while doing so, couldn't help but perform a round of simple math. "Okay, so that's eight. So it seems that, in keeping with your guess, that Neron is missing an avatar for violence."

"No, he isn't," answered back a surprisingly calm and stern voice, the hint of menace within the growl attracting the attention of many towards The Flash while the speedster focused on the task of settling himself down. "And he's down there waiting for. . . us," he added, the quirk of his lips that emerged between the pause in his words throwing a wrench into his otherwise steely appearance.

"I see," Superman replied with a wise degree of caution, his own bright mind already having worked out Wally's involuntary riddle. "And you mentioned that Ma'alefa'ak was 'twice departed'? Does this mean that Neron's already down one lieutenant?"

"Right in one, Superman," The Black Dog replied. "Robin and I came across him and Doctor Light on a fact-finding mission. It was a tough scrape but, with the aid of Terra, we were able to scatter the Martian's soul to the eldritch fore winds of Neron's own dimensional nexus."

"Terra?" Superman spat back, the reveal of The Misfits' enigmatic assistant managing to rouse a shocked reaction. "As in Tara Markov?"

"Guessed the corpse in one, Boy Scout," Robin answered back with an unnecessarily cheery grin, the youngster seemingly cherishing the stern look she received from Kal-El in return. "And, according to her, we're going to have some help if we choose to meet this bastard on his own home court so I say we head down and get ourselves whatever advantage we can." The bold declaration drew more than a helping of surprise and irritation and Stephanie had little trouble with gathering it up and treating it like another attraction in her burgeoning emotional circus. "What? Did you guys honestly expect me to do too much looking before I leaped here? Hello? Paragon of willpower here!"

The Justice Leaguer presented on the secondary monitor couldn't help but present a whimsical smile. "Well, if you are going through with this. . . and I strongly suggest that you don't," he made certain to add. "I'm volunteering myself as one of the nine representatives. If Neron is going to try and take this world then I want to have the opportunity to tell him that it's not going to happen."

"I am afraid that the fulfillment of your wishes is an impossibility, Kal-El," Jason Blood replied, the steps of the immortal soft but measured as he closed in on the image of the doubting Kryptonian. "Perhaps this was not explained in enough detail beforehand but Neron's invitation specifically calls for nine specific individuals. In accordance to the black rites that the demon has employed to limit access to the dimensional nexus, this invitation must be responded to properly in order for this journey to be successful."

"Well, maybe the reason I didn't know about this is that I haven't had the opportunity to hear this invitation in full," Superman answered back, his candor somewhat sagely but still laced with an understandable hint of annoyance.

"Indeed you have not," Blood replied in return, his serene tone not letting loose a single hint of personal fault. "If you would be so kind, Mister Thomas?"

There were several within The Batcave that had to hold in their chuckles as The Black Dog responded to Blood's demand first with disbelief before ultimately settling for gloomy acceptance. "All right, so this is how it goes," he began while moving to take Jason's place at the center of the meeting area. "_As heaven's day approaches its unending knight, a greeting is delivered from its former blight. No triumphant will nor unceasing borrowed shine shall deny this downfall and revival from brine. The Condemner's shell shall lead his dark, stolen way yet the child's heart shall falter and all hope will sway. No bitch nor half-breed will give this soul its recess as they stumble amidst millenia of mess." _

Lloyd allowed himself a breath and a cautious look towards Kara, the half-demon taking just long enough to accept a warm, encouraging smile from his lover before continuing on. _"So to discord's toast I gladly invoke to thee, an opportunity for blind daughters to see. Where fathers and failures unite in one, last fight when neither blade nor gun shall provide the right might. Your vices await in the halls of the victor with no time or physics to find fruitful rigor. Let time's failures_ _approach and bear witness to me, where hatred and jealousy smolder with glee. May my cohorts approach their merciless prison before their kin and colleagues coat the streets crimson." _

The former student of Mao Tenryu didn't need his telepathy to take in the thick veil of doubt and dismay that surfaced with the full translation of Neron's grisly call. "Superman, the clues within the words may not provide quite enough of an explanation but there is something more to it. As you know, each stanza was written in a different dialect and we believe that each one offers a clue that provides further proof to Jason's theory. Now you can ask Hal Jordan or anyone else who deals with magic but we have confirmed that Neron has employed his power to make the bridge between our dimension and his own accessible only on his own volition and he's made certain that this is the only time he's planning on giving us a way to strike back before he opens the floodgates. If anyone else tried to invoke it then the enchantment would be broken and there would be no guarantee that such a possibility would occur again."

"Then why respond to it at all?" Superman finally spat back, the hours of past confusion and anticipation finally beginning to wear on his patience. "Why should these people choose to launch themselves into such an obvious ruse? Why shouldn't we just wait for Neron's armies to come after us and deal with them on a more advantageous battleground?"

"Because we all know what kind of damage a fight like that could bring," Kara Zor-el answered back, the half-Kryptonian finally choosing to look straight ahead at her hesitant cousin. "Superman, the infiltrations on Saizeru Monastery and Wayne Manor and the attack on Tenryu Tower showed us what just a small percentage of Neron's forces could accomplish. A full-blown battle could and most likely would lead to thousands if not millions of casualties and heaven alone knows how much damage to the planet itself." Continuing to look straight on, the former Supergirl could see the inevitable dismay on the face of the family that had been kind enough to welcome her back and the instinct to give in to it began to tug at her heartstrings. Likewise, she could tell that a flicker of displeasure would manifest in her cousin's eyes as she looked toward Lloyd for strength and confirmation but she still let out a clam breath as her lover returned what she had given to him just moments ago.

"Kal, we didn't just come together because we felt like that this was where we belonged," Kara continued on, her words displaying a sense of supple authority that seemed to run directly against her youthful, wide-eyed appearance. "It's situations like these that is why we went underground in the first place. We can take on this kind of chaos before it rises up and gorges on everybody else. Just let us do what we've been trained to do so we can all have a shot at putting a stop to this before it can get any worse."

The plea was certainly imbued with determination and resolve but the simple fact remained that such expressions could have easily been worthless in the face of their partial judge. The thoughts of those within the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor seemed to still and fester and some of the ladies and gentlemen held their breath without even knowing or wanting to do so as they observed Kal-El thinking the matter over. The silence coerced Stephanie into shaking her legs against the metal filing cabinet doubling as her seat until the light thumping of armor against aluminum invoked Batman's silent plea to stop. Kara, on the other hand, continued to do her best to stand tall under the glare of Earth's champion, the urge to crawl back into the insecurities and fears of years past still poking a bit through her reservoir of certainty.

"I'm severely against this," Superman finally yielded, a dark certainty furrowing his brow. "However, I also know that there's little I can do to stop you from doing this and it would be unwise to ignore the lives we could save if your operation is a success. I will need to speak with my colleagues, of course, but I will approve your actions in the meantime and devote the League's efforts to establishing a second front." Another long second passed as the impossibly steep degree of apprehension in Superman's face finally gave the slightest of relief. "Don't be afraid to use it."

And, just like that, Superman's image faded from the monitor in an instant. In response, the absence of the bright illumination sucked a hint of the burgeoning supply of cautious anticipation away from the proceedings as the denizens of the cavern looked at one another with varying degrees of misgiving.

"Well, that was the worst half-time motivational speech in history," Arsenal said rather dully as he rose from his seat, his tired back letting out a creak as he moved to stretch out the kinks. "All right, I'm going to go to bed. Anybody have any objections?"

"Absolutely not," Batman replied while moving to finish off his own labors, the shrouded investigator quite grateful to the sharpshooter for his attempt to bring the mood up from the muck that remained. "We'll be leaving tomorrow at 22:00 hours so do what you need to do to prepare yourselves. Get some rest, spend some time with your family. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. Eat, drink, an' be merry," Lloyd said rather coarsely even as he leisurely wrapped his left arm around Kara's shoulders, his overloud tone drawing a combination of amusement and annoyance from his apparent soldiers. "For tomorrow we die."

* * *

_October 31__st__ – Wayne Manor – 5:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Lois Lane mightily fought back the urge to shake her head while watching her colleague adjust the ruffled hem of the dress that ran along the ankles of the fidgeting young lass in front of her. Of course, the finishing touch did manage to fit in quite nicely with the rest of the golden ensemble but it was quite clear to anyone (save Linda, of course) that the child who had been the center of all the attention was not quite appreciative of the end results. This partially hidden knowledge brought a smile to the lips of the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter as Iris let loose with another round of uncomfortable trundling that only a toddler could truly pull off without coming across as absolutely insufferable, the daughter's slight, shy movements barely hindering the mother's well-meaning endeavors in the least.

It seemed that the only hope that little Iris West had to avoiding the task of being her mother's little princess was the exploits of the other three-year-old in the vicinity. However, rather than standing still and awaiting any further unwanted attention, this one was energetically bumbling about the room, the pursuits of his little, stubby legs further deterred by the clunky looking green-and-white kneepads wrapped around them. Still, despite the handicaps, it didn't appear that the younger of the twins was the least bit critical of his attire as he dashed about the room, his pudgy arms extended as they substituted for the white-and-purple plastic wings that Alfred had absolutely refused to allow the toddler to wear despite the very real risk that he would be forced to endure the perilous wrath of a young mother.

"You know, I could be upset about the fact that I've just been blatantly misdirected away from a good story," Lois noted while wrapping the slim fingers of her right hand against her upthrust chin. "Oop, pardon me," she then added before moving to avoid the mad dasher attempting to fly around the room. "Still, the whole idea that this stodgy, old mansion actually houses a junior member of Star Command is just far too much to ignore."

"Toaffify an' beyond!" Jai exclaimed before divesting his vocal energies into a series of _WOOSHes _and _BEEPBEEPBEEPs _in order to more effectively take on the malignant forces around the galaxy that had apparently found a home in the manor. These efforts, coincidentally, coerced the violet-eyed, hardened military brat observing him to dissolve into shutting her eyes and shaking her head in enjoyment before Lois turned back to face Iris.

"And _you_ are just far too cute for words," Lois then added, her tone far too befitting for a child and, just as she anticipated, the little redhead fired back with a sour glower that looked familiar enough to prompt the ace reporter into raising her eyebrows and shooting an inquisitive glare at her still occupied colleague.

"Yeah, Wally's been obsessing about that for months now," Linda explained. the Korean-American not even wasting a moment to turn to her left and regard Lois as she defused the infantile Batglare with a stern look of her own. "Lois, just take my advice and keep any future children you may have away from Wayne Manor. I think there may very well be something in the Kool-Aid."

"Which is why I've always tried to stay away from it," interrupted The Flash as he strode into the room, the treading of the unmasked Misfit quickly put to a stop as he was soon entangled with fifty pounds of intergalactic warrior. "Woahohoho there, little guy! Now you haven't happened to see my son have ya, Mister Space Ranger? 'Cause I was looking for someone to help me pig out on all this Halloween candy!"

His heart apparently not into the façade, Jai responded to the inquiry by wrapping his pudgy arms around his captor's neck. However, this gesture had its own sinister intent behind it as the youngster stretched his palms out until he could press his fingers against his father's spine. That duty done, the coffee-skinned tot eagerly swung his body backward in order to watch the transformation take place. His already wide smile inched higher as The Flash's eyes widened and then stilled as if the speed merchant had been given some kind of silent order that he couldn't ignore. Then, after several mildly anxious seconds, Jai's own eyes widened as he watched his father presented a pile of vocal gibberish that a three-year-old could easily mistake for a foreign language. Too lost in his happiness to pay rapt attention throughout, Jai let loose with a wild, unrestrained, high-pitched yowl of amusement that would coerce most of us into flinching but inevitably prompt a parent to smile and chuckle themselves.

The air of merriment remained even as Wally turned his attentions towards his eldest child, the former Teen Titan and Justice League quickly vowing to remain serious as he watched his daughter continuing her attempts to bridle her own laughter. "Well, look at you, little princess," he said with utmost tenderness as he lowered himself to his daughter's eye level while turning to meet the gaze of his wife. "Will Lady Belle be able to come down and have some chocolate with us, Madame?"

"I suppose she can," Linda said with as much of a wry demeanor as she could muster when her children were clinging to her husband. "But be sure that Alfred gets plenty of pictures!"

"Wellllll, how about I go and make certain that the photographer carries out his orders," Lois volunteered as she closed the gap between herself and the happy family. "All right, ya little beaners. Colonel Lane is in charge now and I'm ordering you to get downstairs on the double!" she proclaimed, the reporter wise enough to wait for the mother's nod of approval before she moved to claim more control of the children. "Come on! Move it! Move it! Mooooove it!" The half-playful orders had their desired effect as both the princess and the space ranger eagerly ran towards their assigned destination with the lure of sugary sweets calling to them like a siren's song. "Mommy and Daddy will join you in just a second!" she insisted as she moved to follow her newfound recruits while simultaneously leaving the anxious parents with some much needed time for themselves. And, indeed, it was no accident that Linda's right hand found Wally's left as they both watched their children parade down the nearby steps, the chime of the nearby grandfather clock serving as the only sound in the roomy day chamber that had momentarily substituted as a peaceful escape from reality.

"How are you feeling about this?" Wally finally asked as the heads of his children finally faded from sight.

Linda's grip tightened just a hint. "I'm terrified," she confessed while keeping her voice calm, the young mother letting out a bit of a wince as her husband's grip intensified as well. "He's waiting for you, isn't he?" she asked, her tone hollowed out by her own dread. "We both dreamed about him that night before Bruce and Cecilia went to San Francisco and now. . . with everything going on. . . Wally, it can't just be a coincidence, can it?"

"It might be," Wally allowed, his own candor clearly revealing that he couldn't believe his own words. The deceit invited the flickering of his wife's anger and he made certain to catch it from the corner of his eyes and feel the shame from it as he moved to embrace Linda fully, his body quaking in the thoughts of what might be to come. "I don't know what to do. Linda, how do I stop him? Especially now. . ."

"You are going to find a way!" Linda ordered through gritted teeth, the tight clenching of her pretty face the only thing keeping tears from leaking from her almond-shaped eyes. "I don't care what you have to do but find a way!" The feeling of the arms around her as she pushed her face into her husband's chest was almost enough for her to break down but she managed to resist it for just a little bit more.

"Don't let him take anything else from us."

* * *

Selina had come to hate this moment.

Maybe it had taken a little longer than she would have liked for this particular array of subconscious contemplations to draw the proper amount of her ire but the fact remained that she despised it now and continued to do so even as she failed to summon the wherewithal to force herself out of it. Instead, she cursed the unhealthy appeal of Antonio Focci's almond-and-lemon fulcacchio while looking upon herself from within as if she were living a part of some half-forgotten family video. She would have swore upon her deathbed that her choice to divulge in several of the aforementioned and tasty late night treats was just some unwise form of stress relief upon realizing that one of her favorite paintings in the manor had been crushed by a plummeting mountain troll. In fact, she could still clearly remember when she had resolved to snatch the priceless Renoir from the unworthy clutches of the master of the manor.

As fate would have it, her first attempt was met with failure when a surprisingly feisty, shotgun-toting butler had foiled her quiet efforts by popping in on the scene of the crime before she could dislodge the artwork from its resting place but the temptation to give it another go remained with her even two decades later. And, after all, Alfred had hardly fought her request to fetch the scrumptious confectionaries from the working place of the finest pastry chef in Gotham so, if she really looked at it, she could blame this fully upon him.

If she squinted.

But where was she?

Ah, the dream.

Everything was going along with the script as per usual, the lines of the cheering crowds slightly closing in upon the stairs of the chapel as the newly married couple raced down them with a surprising degree of abandon. The tune of the ancient pipe organ inside the aged confines behind the two of them was still blasting out a gentle but still vociferous melody that somehow managed to drift over the uproar. The silk of her wedding gown seemed to be sliding against the still flittering butterflies in her stomach and she came to hate her own nervousness even as she held Bruce's arm to her as tightly as she could, the smile lighting her face not hungry or predatory or even manipulative but a reflection of pure, bald happiness that she would have never allowed to see the light of day. Of course, that beaming grin lost a bit of its innocence as she merrily tossed her bouquet into the throng of raging heroines and other super-powered ladies she had come across over the years but she could still find the hypocrisy to wish that other people could be this happy even as Harley began to scratch at Wonder Woman's eyes in an attempt to get closer to that tightly wrapped supply of posies and roses selected for just that occasion.

Just like everything else, the monkey wrench then made its presence felt at its appropriated time in the form of the bright shine of the Batsignal lighting up the early evening sky. Soon the moment would come when her husband declared that he was off to fight for his city and she would tell him that he couldn't go. Then he would insist that he had to and she'd try and stop him by pulling free her bullwhip and wrapping it around Bruce's neck (_and just where the hell could I hide something like that in a dress this tight?)_. The principle behind this indigestion-fueled fantasy would then be thrust upon heras she recognized that Bruce could never fully abandon his impossible dream and she could never have as much of her as the deepest part of her truly wanted and blah de blah de blah.

Only it didn't happen this time. That god-damned light in the sky was all but ignored as Bruce moved to open the door to the awaiting limousine, the next step to whatever _their _life would have in store for them. Needless to say, it didn't take long at all for her curiosity to get the better of her and she made her way inside with a supply of giddiness that she'd probably hate herself for displaying later. Hastily ridding herself of her veil with her quivering left hand, she quickly leaned towards the flagon of ice to retrieve the nearby bottle of champagne and the pair of glasses that accompanied it only to discover that neither of her intended presents were at their assigned location. Then, while she was registering that unexpected development, she was nearly knocked unconscious as a cork crashed into the center of her forehead, the spongy spool's velocity heightened by the force of the bottle of top-shelf spirits being forced open at a time and location not of her choosing.

"Whoops! Sorry about that!" Stephanie proclaimed from the seat to Selina's left, the younger woman's playful tone working with the sight of the foam tapering down Robin's fingers to transform the new bride's shock into annoyance. "Hehehe! This is gonna be fun!" the irritant hooted before bringing the $2,000 bottle to her lips and proceeding to drink about a quarter of it down. "HEY! DRIVER! Turn up the music, wouldja? This is a party!" she then bellowed out, her command ratcheting up the unknown tune until it was blasting out of the nearby speakers with an intensity that made Selina's head throb.

"Oh, would you just shut up and pick up your damn cards!" implored Roy Harper, the marksman seemingly not quite as bothered by the vociferous beat as he slid another pair of cards across the table that stood seven feet away from Selina's garter-adorned right leg. The sheer absurdity of it all managed to help Selina shake free from her pain-induced delirium but that only allowed her to take in the sight of an equally annoyed Cecilia and Wally sitting just a few feet away from Roy, the pair of adventures already holding their cards close to her chest while impatiently awaiting their infuriating comrade. Then, as she wondered how this vehicle's backseat looked so much larger on the inside then on the outside, she took a moment to try and recognize the song playing around her, the unspoken invitation offered by Roy to join in a game of 500 Rummy declined with a simple wave of her hand.

Finally the other door opened and she could see Bruce climbing into the vehicle from the corner of her half-shut eyes. Her temples already throbbing, she decided to take the first of her privileges and sink her head onto her husband's lap, the pounding within her skull begging her to search for relief from the chaos and clamor. In fact, Selina had already shut her eyes in anticipation for the possibility of peace and she was thus able to be completely surprised by another stinging dose of pain as her forehead crashed against the front of Iris West's skull, the impact pulling a surprised yelp from her own lips while her eyes floated back into the realm of the fully aware. That alertness acquired, the new bride was now fully equipped to witness the sight of her husband, her brooding, dark champion, her final, greatest possession now finally claimed after a hunt that lasted nearly a quarter of a century, making gentle shushing sounds designed to keep the redheaded toddler sprawled on his lap from crying.

Selina knew that she should have found the charm in this more palatable part of the nightmare around her but it still felt like another kick in the gut, the pain from it seemingly dragging her down like a lead weight had been placed across her slim but still capable shoulders. Then, after recovering herself, she discovered that the weight on those shoulders was not metaphorical in the least. In fact, the sudden sting of pain in her neck momentarily blinded her with a fresh round of agony and it wasn't until she could feel a slimy sensation rising from the back of her head that she could manage to recognize that something had leapt onto the back of her neck. Twisting her head back as much as she could under the stressful circumstances, she just managed to make out the sight of stumpy, coffee-colored fingers pulling against her cheeks.

"Toaffify an' beyond!" Jai declared happily in the midst of the laughter of her surrounding aunts and uncles, the byproducts of the youth's runny nose ruining Selina's hair just as his ungainly grip devastated her makeup. Being so caught up in his own merriment, the younger of the two twins let out a surprised but still somewhat cheerful squawk as Selina forcefully plucked him off her shoulders.

"All right! All right! That's enough!" Catwoman angrily proclaimed as she placed the messy youth on the floor of the limo as mildly as she could. "I want out of this! Stop the car, Alfred!"

The first response from the driver was a dull, even, foreboding mechanical _whirr _as the window separated the front seat and the rear carriage slid down to reveal a British-born manservant that was a great deal younger than who Selina was looking for. Her disconcertment grew as Lloyd took a moment to gently doff his black bowler hat before demonstrating his responsibility and returning his eyes to the road. "Sorry, Miss Wayne. Can't stop now! Terribly sorry! Everyone of us, has all we need!" he exclaimed while rocking his head back-and-forth to the time of the beat. Sitting next to him, attired in a matching outfit and hat, was Kara singing a rather well-crafted rendition of _Yellow Submarine_, the luminosity of her crystalline blue eyes just bright enough to blind her.

* * *

_WHUUMF!_

Selina blearily opened her eyes just moments after her head had made contact with the floor. Racking up the pain in her neck from the very real possibility that her head had been hanging over the edge of the soft mattress for some time before her plummet, she took a moment to nurse the already swelling bruise on her forehead, her nervous mind already anticipating the arrival of the purplish discoloration that waited for her at the nearby bathroom mirror. She was halfway to getting back up to her feet before some shuffling of the sheets above her convinced Selina to lay prone against the carpet once again as her temples suddenly remembered that they should be aching out their annoyance.

"Selina, are you all right?" Bruce whispered, his compassion subdued from being awakened from a sound sleep.

Selina, still lying on her stomach like a fish out of water, couldn't quite work up a proper reply.

* * *

_October 31__st__ – 7:52 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

A jade-skinned ogre, a scarred wizard, and a cybernetic warrior from a planet far, far away were clamoring at the front doorstep of Wayne Manor, the lot of them awaiting the opportunity to plunder the many gifts that the stately mansion would have to offer. Their anticipation was nearly palpable as the relatively silent seconds wore on, the menagerie of monsters shuffling about on their squat limbs as the inevitable loomed closer and closer. Finally their chance came as the door opened and revealed a swarthy looking pirate, the fellow's long, unkempt black hair twisted into elaborate dreadlocks while his similarly scruffy beard was barely kept in order by what the invaders could only guess to be the spray of salt water. Each and every one of the buccaneer's outer garments, from his ruffled shirt to his bluish-black pantaloons to his elaborate black vest, was stained by a lifetime of bloodshed and intoxicating adventures,

Well, it was actually ketchup, leftover coffee, and a half-bottle of cheap and abandoned alcohol but it wasn't like the pirate was going to be pointing this out _now_.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" the assailants bellowed while thrusting their supply of previous spoils towards their next prospective victim.

In response, the disheveled brigand teetered to and fro in the manner of a man who had passed the point of sobriety at least five bottles of grog ago. Several seconds passed as the man's extended ring fingers seemed to pilot his aimless wobbling as if he were trying to point out marks in the sky that only he could see. "Oh, my," noted Captain Jack Sparrow while continuing to weave back and forth, his candor further blunted by a passable impersonation of a West London brogue. "What a party of. . . panic provoking. . . pontificators. I suppose you'll be wanting some candy then, eh?"

The children on the front doorstep responded with an affirmative mixture of cheers and laughter, the possibility of receiving a reward adding with the sight of a familiar face to produce the rambunctious response. Seemingly pleased with the retort, the rogue turned slowly towards the small bowls of peanut butter cups and miniature candy bars positioned at the nearby end table and withdrew two unhealthy handfuls. Of course, his swiveling back to face the monsters at his doorstep led him to crash against the half-opened doorframe, the clattering of wood and metal drawing another round of laughter from the trick-or-treaters that carried on even after Sparrow had placed his offerings into plastic receptacles that, quite frankly, were already holding enough sugar to meet the world's zit needs well into the next decade.

"All right, off with you then," Sparrow then attempted to order with a rather paltry waving of his right hand. "Enjoy your ill-gotten gains and. . . do kindly remember. . . anyone who wishes to decorate my fine craft with paper toiletries will meet with a most unhealthy demise."

As he expected, the children had little care for the unnecessary warning as they waved goodbye and shuffled away, their path quietly observed by a bored-looking parent who managed to work up an appreciative nod for the pirate's work. His duty done, the grubby traveler of the seas took a moment to shut the door before continuing to meander back and forth for his own amusement, his antics distracting him from the point that his previous crash into the door had dislodged a portion of his black wig to the point where a thatch of red hair could clearly be seen underneath.

"Why's the rum gone?"

"Oh, are you still doing that even when nobody's watching you?" Cecilia yelled from the central living room. "Damn it, Roy! Quit being stupid!"

Roy allowed himself a round of slow, amused blinks of his eyes as he shambled back into the small party that awaited him. This extravagant exhibition attracted little attention from the dwindling supply of fellow denizens of the mansion. "Aww, come on, Cissers! You're tellin' me that you spend all year dressed up like an emo Robin Hood and yet you can't get fired up for All Hallow's Eve?"

Cecilia, clad in the ever-festive attire of a t-shirt and blue jeans, offered Arsenal a cold glare. "I think you already took all of the stupid points there were to be had," she growled back while continuing to manipulate the dogbone-shaped controller in her quick hands to manipulate a wild-haired youth on the nearby television screen. "You know, I wonder if there will be any zombies to take out in Neron's dimension?" she then couldn't help but ask as she managed to send a grand piano raining down upon the head of a particularly determined pile of pale flesh and bone. "Naw. Now that I think about it, there's no way that such a douchebag would have something that cool."

"Yaarrrrrr!" exclaimed the miniature Hector Barbossa sitting on the other end of the couch, her head all but covered by the plumed hat that was blatantly too large for her head. "You be watchin' yer language!"

A brief pause lingered over the room before Cecilia was hit with a need to laugh that would have ruined her game of _Zombies Ate My Neighbors _if she hadn't managed to slide her thumb across the pause button before placing both hands around her eyes. While she was thus distracted, Roy managed to slither around the leather couch and ruffle the archer's blond hair before stooping down and giving a quick peck to his captain's little nose.

"Please don't ever change," he insisted to his daughter, his move to embrace Lian squashing the other controller between them. "Well, all in all, I'd say that this has been a good holiday so far," he added while taking in the space between the two charming ladies. "I got to be Jack Sparrow, we're going to go down and kick some demonic patootie, _and _I got a new gun from our friendly friends at Karbarra."

Cissie took a moment to roll her eyes before unpausing the game, the sight of the previously mentioned firearm dominating the lower edges of her eyes as it lay upon the nearby table between the couch and the screen. Of course, she had to admit that the new weapon looked impressive enough, the cold, dark luster of the elongated barrel adding to the menace of it. The thing appeared to be an even mixture between a pistol and a short rifle, the single-action hammer apparently allowing for a quick revolution of the weapon's varying chambers while providing enough of an underside to supply enough room for an energy cartridge that would supply for a multitude of firings. In addition to the diversity of the reloading mechanisms, the expanded area beneath the barrel allowed room for a tiny control panel that seemed to allow control over which magazine Roy would want to employ and thus allowing for the weapon to serve a multitude of uses without having to resort to switching weapons.

Well, at least that was how Roy had explained it until she threatened to stab herself with a fork if he kept talking about it anymore.

"You and your friggin' guns," she then answered back with a slow, pondering shake of her head. "Do you ever worry that this gun obsession of yours might have something to do with some pent-up sexual frustrations?"

Roy took a moment to consider the notion. "Possibly. Of course, I'm not certain how seriously I should take the argument of a girl who's constantly shooting arrows at everything that moves."

Cissie, still with one eye on the gun, resisted the temptation to flip Roy off.

After all, somebody had to be responsible around here.

* * *

_October 31__st __- Thompkins Clinic – 8:27 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Okay. Just hold still for a little bit more, Nina. You're doing great."

Stephanie couldn't help but gather together the kindest smile she had as the eight-year-old Chicano seated across from her tried her best to comply to the brightly spoken command. She could see that the girl's big, black eyes were still quivering from the pain that was doubtlessly resonating from the broken bones in her arm but still the girl continued to soldier on, the bridge of communication that had been so hastily built between caregiver and patient apparently enough to convince the wounded girl to believe her. The stillness made the motions of wrapping the stabilizing bandages of the sling around the girl's arm a great deal easier, so much so that the pang that came with the knowledge that she could do so much more only produced a hollow ringing in her gut that she could easily overcome. Her ring may have shown her that the angle of the broken bones could have only been pulled off by a force that was greater than the girl's own meager weight, a clear indication that little Nina Hernandez had not simply fallen down a set of stairs as her mother had been so insistent to claim, but that issue was for another place and time that she might not have anything to do with.

As it stood, the only thing she could do was to be for this person who needed her help in the present time. The past and the future was something she'd just have to deal with later as she resisted the temptation to wrap the relative stranger into her arms in a fruitless attempt to ease the pain that lingered there. In fact, perhaps it was a blessing that there was a knock at the door behind her since it all but forced her to regain her composure as her current boss edged her way through the slightly opened entry.

"You have a visitor, Stephanie," the old woman began, the sight of the calm patient taking a bit of the vigor from the doctor's knowing smile. Of course, it could have been argued that the lack of blind gusto would have done her volunteer some good as the wizened caregiver opened the door wide to reveal an uncomfortable-looking gentleman attired in designer jeans and a simple black t-shirt. To make a long story short, it wasn't quite the right attire or demeanor for a teenaged superhero who had spent the last three years darkening the covers of teen-centered magazines and a small percentage of the newspaper clippings that were tacked up to the bulletin board in Stephanie's room.

Then again, it wasn't like Stephanie's first love had ever really been equipped with a great deal of social precision.

"Hey," Tim Drake began, the 19-year-old's hands stuck firmly within his pockets.

Stephanie really wanted to be a professional right now. She wanted to tell her patient all the things that Leslie had instructed her to say in situations like these and mix those sagely words up with some kindly expressions of her own. It was something she took a great deal of pride in pulling off, after all, but the simple fact remained that her brain seemed to have decided to press the pause button on the rest of her so that a part of her couldn't help but think that she looked profoundly stupid as Leslie kindly took Nina from her care and managed to get away without her grievously due punishment.

"Hey," the Gotham-based Robin finally supplied, the Green Lantern's penchant for conversation truly unsullied in the wake of the pressure around her. Still, despite the riveting introduction, the two former partners seemed to still be trapped within their own emotions as Tim wondered where the hell he was supposed to begin while Stephanie wondered how the odd mixture of happiness, sadness, and longing standing across from her could look so downright edible.

_Lord, do I have issues. _

"I was kinda surprised that you didn't come back to Gotham," Stephanie began again with a whisper so soft that she was almost ashamed of it. "You know. . . when that whole thing with Circe went down."

Tim looked back down to the sterile linoleum beneath his feet as he scuffed the heels of his shoe against the surface. "Yeah. . ." he began after a moment of looking back at Steph's own shy glare. "Guess I never got around to it."

Stephanie knew that she had to accept the tough shot but another part of her knew that she didn't have to like it. "Well, I mean I can understand why you'd be a little leery," she acknowledged with a hint of somewhat misdirected venom. "I mean, it's not like Bruce didn't see you as an equal or anything."

"Well, at least I kept in touch with him!" Tim snapped back, the vitriol sparking a very dangerous fire that still loomed in both Robins. "At least he gave me the choice of how much I wanted him to be around what I was doing and at least he let me in on a little of his life too! He didn't just run away and pretended that nothing ever happened!"

"Don't you dare!" Stephanie hissed while marching forward with angry strides despite the nervous warning bells clanging around in her grey matter. _"Don't you dare _talk to me about worthiness or running away or pretending to live a lie, Mister Draper! All of the rest of you ran off after all that madness with The Black Mask and you left Bruce alone to fix up all the damage and you did it because you knew he was too damn stubborn to bite the bullet and say that he needed help. You took the easy way out and left behind a life that I always wanted and I took it because I deserved it!"

"Well, I'm not Bruce!"

The roar came back through gritted teeth but the anger in the candor wasn't enough to hide the pain in Drake's voice. It was that kind of emotion that Stephanie would have given her left arm to have and take into her just three years ago.

"I can't just shrug it off and pretend like nothing happened when my father was murdered by some thug who wanted his face plastered over the front page! And then I hear about what happened to you because of another one of Batman's plans that he doesn't bother to tell the rest of us about! So, hey, now I get to live with the fact that the last thing I ever spoke to you about was some stupid lie about how I didn't want you in my life anymore! Then, just a couple weeks after that, Bart and Conner are killed over some stupid war that had nothing to do with them, my best friends were butchered on a battlefield that we didn't even know that much about until we were thrown onto it by Oracle so that just leaves a bunch more pieces of my life that I had to pick up! Me! ON MY OWN!"

Stephanie promised she wouldn't shed a single tear or let loose a single iota of anger. The latter was barely avoided when Tim leveled an accusing finger in her direction while the former effort nearly met with failure when she managed to piece out the shards of sadness that still remained in Timothy's eyes.

"But I did it!" Tim continued on, his tone possibly coming off as taunting if his voice hadn't broken halfway through. The unwilling gesture prompted the young detective to swallow his fury before speaking again, his tone coming out more certain and more representative of what he had become. "I brought The Teen Titans together again until Victor was ready to come back and I have a family again I have people who care about me and I don't need to be Batman's protégé to prove that I belong."

Some might have taken the claim to be laced with accusation but Stephanie knew enough of her former partner to recognize the honesty. "I'm glad," she replied without a hint of a defensive gesture, her once clenched fists now unfurled into open palms that rested on her legs. "But. . . I still think Bruce needs a Robin. Somebody who can, well, keep him from being so dark and creepy."

It was clear that Tim was trying for a half-smirk but the swift appearance of a toothy grin and a quick huff of laughter brought a smile to Stephanie's face as well. "I think so too," Tim answered back with an equal supply of tender certainty. "And, from what I hear, you're just the person for the job."

Stephanie didn't yet dare to move forward even though the urge to stretch her fingertips forward to graze his rough hands, his once angelic face hardened through the last five years of hardship. The approval in his words, as wonderful and kind of sad as it sounded, almost seemed intoxicating to her and the realization that Tim had just let out a nervous swallow as he leaned just the slightest bit forward only made it more so. The sensation was so much, in fact, that it nearly distracted her enough to gloss over the approaching footsteps and she had only a second to spare as she jerked backward before Cesar Rojelio could step through the door. There was a tasteful bouquet of roses in her current boyfriend's hand but that sight was quickly supplanted by the sight of the deceptively kind Chicano starting to put the pieces of this potential puzzle together as he turned his blackish-brown eyes toward Tim.

"Hey there, homes," he began, a still somewhat pleasant note of menace in the mannerisms of the part-time lieutenant for the most prominent gang lord in Gotham City. "Should I know you, man?"

Stephanie felt the pit of her stomach grow cold and the familiar buzz of the communicator in her ear hardly did that nervousness any favors. A handful of stressful seconds passed as Cesar and Tim continued to wonder if they should lock horns while still standing a safe distance apart. Batman's voice was soon blaring over the tiny speaker in her right ear, his stern order to return to the manor ringing out clear enough for all three of them to hear and, just like that, she found it quite appropriate that she was apparently about to go to hell.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

I have to admit that there were several sections of this "calm before the storm" issue that were surprisingly difficult for me to put on paper (well, onto the electronic equivalent of paper anyway). Honestly, I haven't done this much editing since the final chapter of the last book (Issue #83 for those scoring at home) and that includes the pop-culture manifesto that was Number 100. Still, having examined the available evidence, I have determined that the problem arose from the lack of monkeys in my life. I mean, it's been months since I've played Donkey Kong Country 2 and life has gotten pretty busy since then and there comes a time and point in a man's life when they have to recognize how important monkeys truly are.

Still, seeing as how I can't get a monkey of my own, do you guys think it would be plausible to make Dixie Kong a Misfit?

What?

Oh, and thanks for reading and possibly reviewing. Here's a next issue preview.

* * *

_Issue #108 Preview_

So Neron's nine selected guests have chosen to take the trip into the domain of the reigning and defending ruler of the nether dimensions. That being said, there is no possible way that the big bad of this go-round won't have something waiting for them when they arrive, right? After all, it goes completely against Neron's character to not allow his opponents to fight on an even ground! Oh, and what was that business about Terra saying that help was on the way? Well, I have to admit that I may know the answers to these questions but it's up to you to tune back in and find them out for yourself in the next installment of The Misfits: _Abyssus est pro monachus_. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	108. Abysssus est pro Monachus

Issue #108

Abyssus est pro monachus

_October 31__st__ – The Watchtower – Observation Deck Seven – 9:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Superman took a moment to wipe away the wisps of sleep into the whorls of his fingertips, his slight lethargy germinated by the recent activity while his lingering fatigue continued to chip at his constitution even during the peaceful moment currently offered to him. A somewhat guilt-ridden, over responsible portion of his mind drifted back to the growing pile of paperwork awaiting him back at _The Daily Planet_, the labors continuing to grow thanks to the "fact-finding mission" that had kept Clark Kent away from his desk for the last several days. The lack of the anticipation spawned by his more simplistic labors prompted The Man of Steel to let out a long breath and he knew that he needed to thank his wife for wrangling the time away from work that he needed to get this particular job done.

Still, should he be remiss in remembering this himself, Lois had been more than happy to remind him of the fact when he had seen his wife safely back to Metropolis and Superman strongly suspected that similar suggestions would continue until the job was done.

On the other hand, there were a number of reasons why that gratitude never came out now, did it? And he could blame his wife's recent refusal to listen to any point other than her own or the friction from the trial at The Watchtower but the simple fact remained that receiving the knowledge he had sought did not quite bring the peace he had been looking for. He had searched for his cousin for nearly two years, his efforts to find one of the last remaining links to his true home taking him from one side of the galaxy to the other and now the concoction of hope and worry that had formed and collected in his gut since that journey began had only been replaced by something almost equally disconcerting. It was something he couldn't attribute to Nightwing or Kara or Bruce (though Rao knows how he wanted to) or even on himself because the first rule of journalism Perry White had taught him kept springing out and magnifying itself on the screens of his senses.

Full reward or blame could never be handed out to just one party. Make that decision to do so and no one will ever earn or gain what they should really get.

On that note, Kal-El found it to be quite a point of convenience for himself as the double doors to his back opened and Hal Jordan stepped onto the deck, the former Air Force ace and current Green Lantern moving without a shred of trepidation or reluctance. Superman allowed himself to take some comfort in his friend's fearlessness, the blind bravery that was similarly admired and reviled by people like Bruce and Diana when they found themselves without that capacity for the kind of guile possessed by the Green Lantern Corps colonel. It was a power that resonating both with the ring on his finger as well as on his own and it was something that had put countless lives in jeopardy but had saved so many more.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that Bruce was the one who was supposed to overanalyze things?" Hal asked upon arriving just two-and-a-half steps away from Superman's side. "I mean, if the three of you keep switching roles like this then you're just going to throw the rest of us all out of balance."

Superman managed to bring a shred of pessimism into his fairly confident countenance. "You know, I still can't understand why everyone thinks that Bruce, Diana and I are some kind of secret society. It seems far too Machiavellian for my taste."

"Well, then maybe the three of you shouldn't keep on meeting in secret," Hal offered back, his smirk several notches more expressive than his comrade's half-hearted glower. "Because that is kind of clandestine, you know. I mean, you should have heard how Guy was laughing when Steph told us about how you guys tried to form the new Justice League. You guys were lining up photographs of us like you were choosing your starting offensive line, for Christ's sakes."

Now Kal-El wasn't certain whether he wanted to frown or grumble. Hal, on the other hand, had no trouble breaking through the Kryptonian's indecisiveness and continued to press forward. "All right, so Diana's got all that she needed to know about what's going on with Neron thanks to Waller and yours truly. Oh, and thank you _so _very much for nominating me to be the one to tell her that the Misfits were launching a preemptive strike on their own."

"Don't mention it," Superman provided with a straight face, the transition between concern and gallows humor still being somewhat traversed by Earth's greatest champion. "And that's really what they're calling themselves? The Misfits?"

Hal took in his friend's mild disbelief and retorted with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe they thought that all the dignified names were already taken," the Justice Leaguer allowed. "Kara was the one who came up with it, y'know. At least she did according to what Stephanie told me. You know, the whole Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and The Island of Misfit Toys and all that?" The Green Lantern quickly recognized the potential mistake before forcing himself to endure the damage in the face of Clark's chagrin. "They were just teenagers, Clark. Hell, they may be able to handle a lot on their plate but they're still young. Maybe this was just her way of figuring out what she wanted to be?"

_Exactly, _Superman wanted to roar back. _They're just kids. They shouldn't have to take on so much when they still have so much of the world in front of them! That's our job! It isn't fair to let them think that this was all life had in store for them! We're here to take care of them! Not the other way around!_

"They don't need taking care of, Clark," Hal added, the glimmer in the eyes of the former Spectre providing a strong clue to Superman that his comrade could at least recognize his wavelength. "And Bruce didn't force them to do this. Just like nobody forced you to put on your old blanket and join The Legion back when you were 16."

Clark knew he would have been a fool to not see the logic but still his blue eyes stayed fixated upon the gray metal underneath his feet, his broad forearms propped against the supporting steel beam. "This is different, Hal. The Legion offered me an opportunity to be a student of the game. They're soldiers and they're fighting a war that was going on well before they were born. My God, Roy and Wally have children and now they'll be raised in this madness and I'm supposed to just stand here and nod my head in approval and send them off while leaving their families to wonder if the people they love will ever make it back home!"

There was no way for even the bravest and/or most foolhardy of us to ignore the point within the anger and dismay and Hal allowed the thoughts to linger while sweeping his sights outward, his eyes catching the dim penumbra of Phobos rising in the faraway horizon.

"Kal, I'm pretty damn certain that Roy and Wally don't want their children to grow up without a father. Hell, I'm pretty certain that Lois doesn't want to be a widower if we're going on that way of thinking." The youngest surviving member of the original Justice League let out a wry smile as his thoughts drifted back towards a recently refurbished airfield back home and the woman who had poured her heart and soul into that and so much more. "We do things every day without really knowing what the end results are," the Green Lantern then added in with uncanny knowingness. "And, at the end of the day, the only thing we can hope for is that life will be a little bit clearer when it's all said and done."

Likewise, it was only fair that Superman provided the proper opportunity for the words of his friend to sink in, the break in the hasty debate spanning long enough to allow the Kryptonian to turn his attention towards a very familiar pattern. It was the even rhythm of an instrument that he had nearly 20 years to get used to and yet the familiarity could still often provide him with some proof that he could have a hand in something good.

"Still, I suppose we can't know everything about anything," Kal-El offered back in a deceptively casual manner. "What do you think, Nightwing?"

The quick whisper of a curse easily drifted through Superman's ears as Richard Grayson drifted down to the floor of the deck from his previous vantage point of the rafters perched 25 feet above. The increasingly familiar _schick _of the detective's aerofoil glider mixed with the _whoosh _of the acrobat's impressive descent to make the potentially dangerous maneuver a task to be accomplished with well-practiced ease. "Just how long ago has it been since you spotted me anyway?" the former understudy of Bruce Wayne couldn't help but ask while retracting the blades of his glider with a careful press of his right foot.

"Just a little bit before Hal made his way in here," Superman easily replied. "I won't lie and say that I would have spotted your father sooner but it was an impressive effort nonetheless."

Grayson had long recognized that he couldn't pull off the wintry glare of his brooding adopted patriarch and settled for rolling his eyes within the relative safety of his domino mask. "Geez. A guy tries to lighten things up around here," he replied while shaking his head to and from before endeavoring to respond to the matter at hand. "Still, since you're asking, Supes. I'm pretty certain that Kara and the rest don't view this as some kind of ordained imperative. They've all got their reasons and you'd be insulting your own intelligence if you ever thought that Bruce could convince any of those basket cases to do something they didn't want to do."

"Basket cases?" Superman asked with an upward tilt of his eyebrows.

Nightwing shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, I may love 'em and defend 'em until the day I die but that's not enough for me to deny that they can't drive you insane." The former Misfit and current Justice Leaguer took a moment to wonder over whether he should present Kara's haunted past and the volatile temper that came with it in order to provide evidence for his claim but it didn't take much to convince the vigilante to shuffle away from that line of thinking. "Asking them to just step aside and wait for something bad to happen would just be like stepping in front of it and asking it to stop. Well. . . at least that's if I were doing it. I think you could actually pull that off. . . "

"And. . ." Hal interjected, his persuasive candor bolstered by a mixture of determination and good humor.

Consequently, the cross expression that lined Nightwing's lips provided the persuader with a bit of self-interference. "Let's be honest, Superman. They were the ones who kept Alexander Luthor and his Society from running roughshod. Hell, they managed to stop them from dropping Chemo onto Bludhaven! They're the ones who shut down the Mensobous Luminitas before it could spread to a global epidemic and they were the only ones who led the comeback when The Sinestro Corps had the rest of us beat." Richard knew that there was room for doubt within the claims and made sure to drive home the truth in his words with the stern sincerity he had gathered when it came to his adopted family. "So consider their tactics and their philosophies all you want to but also remember, as convoluted of a situation though this may be, that if there's anyone that can get us out of this situation before it becomes a catastrophe then it's them."

The impassioned declaration earned the longest moment of silent deliberation thus far. Nightwing's urge to relent in his determination tempted his movements but still he stood strong while waiting whatever was to come. Likewise, Superman had already crafted the counterargument with the same skill and decorum that he had employed in the last several hours to aid in organizing dozens of metahumans, supernatural specialists, and military heads to shore up defenses and provide quick transitions for emergency support should worse come to worse. Just as he had so many times before, he used his appearance and reputation to get his foot through the metaphorical doors and used his words to bring people together.

"You know, that's an awful lot of sugarcoating you put on there. Especially considering that Lloyd's mom isn't around for you to impress."

As said before, Nightwing had never quite been able to muscle up the stern glare that his father would have bestowed upon Hal Jordan if he had been placed in this kind of situation.

"Fuck you," he then offered, the chortling from two of his childhood heroes still not enough to dissuade the vigilante from believing that he had gotten his message across.

* * *

Jason Blood had spent the last 27 minutes creating nothing short of a paranormal tour de force, the sorcerer's centuries of experience tempering his each and every movement as he employed his own power to access the spectral portion of Neron's blood-drenched invitation. That being said, the immortal's steadfast efforts seemed to do little to separate the thick swell of anticipation and misgivings that clutched the thoughts of his eight companions. Though the sources may have been varied and their influence fluctuated from cautious soul to wayward body, the human cage of the mighty Etrigan felt as if he could taste the trepidation on his parched tongue. He felt his darker half strain to release himself once again, the clarion call of what lay behind his crafting doubtlessly working to turn the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor into a feasting frenzy for such a starved greater demon but the ancient student of Merlin wasted no time in calmly keeping his beast in check, his energies quickly devoted to the more important task of providing a calm voice where one would be quite pressed to find such security.

"Okay. Just so I can make certain that my flesh isn't about to be charred off the bone," Arrowette began, the lean archer unnecessarily supporting herself by propping her left side against her bow. "So we know for certain that weak, vulnerable but endearing mere mortals like myself can actually survive where we're going to?"

Blood could feel the urge to release his discontent and found himself somewhat grateful that a younger half-demon than himself moved to intervene.

"Jason and I both have past experience in the dimensional space where Neron's holding up shop," Lloyd replied, the black-haired Brit wisely choosing to twist his eyes away from Blood's work in order to observe his apprehensive friend directly. "It's hardly a summer evening on the beaches of Dover but it's nothing that human physiology can't endure. An', like I've said before, Blood, Steph, and I have run a double an' a triple check on the enchantments that are designed to keep us together if our advantageous host tries to throw in a monkey wrench and shuttle you, Bats, or Harper to somewhere less tolerable."

"Well, then at least it's a little safer than our last tropical vacation," noted Kara Zor-el, her candor jumbled within a hint of self-amusement and a morsel of caution as she moved closer to the daughter of Oliver Queen in order to give her a calm, even gaze. "Sure you're not carrying too much luggage, partner?"

Cecilia offered a wan smile of her own as she tilted her right shoulder forward in order to get a better look at the fully stocked dual quivers loaded onto her back. The thick leather padding of the containers would prevent her from landing on any sharp object that heavy arsenal had in store and she even made a mental note to thank Lucius Fox for heading the update on the activation tech for her "trick arrows" so that they could only be armed with more specific, pressure-point motions. "Well, I've just had too many bad experiences with not packing enough," the fair-haired archer replied, the young markswoman apparently eager enough for levity to keep the game going. "So I just take everything I think I might need and just hope for the best!"

"Always was a good philosophy for me," another voice threw in, the throwaway rejoinder accompanied by the audible whirling of a gun barrel locking into place. Thusly satisfied by his preparation, Roy Harper put a bit more speed into his steps as he joined the two ladies at the chamber entrance and met their expectant gazes. "Still, I have to ask if there's any kind of convenient armories in hell. 'Cause the first thing I learned about these things was that you better have an answer if a finite payload is part of the question."

"Bloody, buggerin' hell," Lloyd exclaimed in return, the urge to spit on the cave floor narrowly resisted thanks to the company of his lover. "See? This is why the lot of us should just bite the bullet and get pissed before a scrap like this. Your little partaking in the ganja just leads you to makin' all these highfallutin' speeches that just wipe out my eardrums."

"Hey! Now wait a second there, boss!" Roy cautioned his friend with a waggling finger and a pair of lips screwed to one side. "I'll have you know I am drug-free thanks to your Pollyanna of a bed buddy he_YOW!_" he managed to get out before Kara's quick straight punch to his left shoulder forced him into silence while inviting some unfettered and enthusiastic chuckling from Lloyd's left.

"Sweet! I'm not the first one to get hit this time!" Stephanie whooped happily, the little Green Lantern celebrating her victory by swaying back and forth to her own beat until that display dissolved by her need to concentrate on her laughter. "Heh heh. This is Roy's brain not on drugs. Any questio_YAOW!_" The lady could give a name to her pain before her neck had finished lurching forward from the slap she received to the back of her head. "Damn it! Why do we always have to deal with everything by hitting stuff_YACH!"_

Recognizing that his adopted little sister was distracted by her own surprise and mild agony, Stephanie's first attacker gave a quick nod of thanks to the blur of crimson in Stephanie's stead as the perpetrator of the second attack on Robin came to a stop in front of him. "West," The Black Dog greeted over the spray of frayed limestone.

"Boss," The Flash greeted in return with a smart salute before returning his attention towards his former target. "And as far as the hitting things is concerned, the simple fact is that stupid times resort to stupid measures," he added, his point soon proven as Stephanie thrust up her middle fingers at The Fastest Man Alive.

A weighty sigh interrupted the proceedings as the surrounding supernatural hum flickered for a hint of a moment. "Perhaps I should thank all of you for providing a most superb paradigm for why I shouldn't so frequently seek the aid of contemporaries," groused Jason Blood without even bothering to look behind him and into the throng. Thanks to his focus, the warlock was willingly witless of the chaos behind him as The Black Dog wrapped Robin in a restraining hold to keep the supernatural warrior woman from exacting petty revenge upon the exasperated immortal. What did catch Blood's attention, however, was the sound of footsteps and the silent caution of a familiar soul as Batman made his way into the room with Edward Bloomberg just a few steps behind.

The former, of course, looked upon the increasingly hectic proceedings with an expression of deep, menacing consternation designed to silently enforce a cease to the unnecessary activities. The latter, on the other hand, held a softened expression that displayed an earnest desire to join in the levity but then the half-demon seemed to remember who he was standing next to and quickly went back to trying to look dark and mysterious. Neither attempt met the degree of success that the two gentlemen were looking for but those failures did little to circumvent the conclusion of Jason's work, the sum result manifesting itself into a blindingly white gateway that loomed over the nine figures in the suddenly cramped chamber. The energy cracked and hissed as the passageway began to take a more distinct shape in the form of a gate that would look more appropriate at the front of an old British cemetery: tall, stern bars and an ornate emblem bearing an ancient, Arthurian crest of a falcon, the beast's outstretched wings seemingly shielding the crowd in front of it from the horrors that lay inside.

"Well, that's not overdramatic or anything," Stephanie couldn't help but mutter as Jason tensed the fingers of his right hand. The silent command shifted the door's appearance once again, this time so that nine small gaps appeared near the door's central point and just beneath the emblem.

"Does everyone remember what to do?" Batman asked while striding forward to perform his own selected portion of the task to come, the detective's finely honed instincts emboldening him as he slid his fist into the aperture furthest to the left. The Dark Knight of Gotham City then looped his strong fingers around the solid loop of transdimensional energy inside and looked on silently as a flash of light appeared above the aperture. The sparkle briefly formed the word _een_, the Dutch word for one, before the illumination dimmed and the activity around the gate came to a halt once again. Then, firing an expectant stare towards his most loyal of understudies, he tried his best to produce no reaction to the bitter scowl on Robin's face as she stalked to her place beside him.

Robin wasted no time in complying to Batman's silent request as the Parmanian symbol for the number two flared to life in front of her eyes for a moment before fizzling away and leading another portion of the spectral gate to rest. The others quickly followed in place: Lloyd and Kara, Cecilia and Roy, Wally and Jason until finally all that was left was for Kid Devil to let out a weighty swallow as he completed the chain with an open palm and a donation of his own flesh and blood. Its prerequisites met, the dramatic notch in space and time crafted by a demon created millennia ago and brought into full being by something far older and more sinister flared to a brilliant display of life once again before the palpable energy expanded and swallowed all the willing souls within its grasp.

* * *

_November 1__st__ – Wayne Manor – Second Floor – 1:04 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

It had been nearly three hours since she had given up trying to dive into the autobiography she had purchased from the bookstore on her way home from work, two hours from the moment she made a stern promise that she would get some sleep and 17 minutes since she ultimately realized that she couldn't keep her word when Linda finally bit the bullet and rose from the king-sized bed. Her stubborn disposition was still tempted to try to convince the rest of her to give it another shot but the bevy of familiar scents that lined the sheets and pillowcases had simply become too much for the young wife and mother to bear. There was the fancy aftershave that Wally had worn on yesterday's lunch date, the aroma lingering just long enough to jumble with the scent of his shampoo and a slight hint of sweat. The slight trace of maple syrup that still sullied the expensive comforter after Jai and Iris had served her breakfast in bed the morning before (with the help of the sage supervision of Kara, of course) and a quick look underneath her pillow allowed her a lasting shot of a shard of spittle-dried Cheerio that Jai had left behind once the meal meant for two had broken down into a typically messy family occasion.

No. There wasn't any way she could stay in here right now. Not with the other side of this too large bed looking so empty. That urgency continued to push her as she slid her long feet into her silk slippers before drifting through the lingering darkness and into the hall outside. However, as she quietly shut the door behind her, the reporter found her quest to travel to the side of her sleeping children was suddenly dissuaded by something that was a mix between an even hum and a coarse rumble. It was a peaceful series of reverberations that drifted along the tall halls so easily that it seemed as if the sound could have come from anywhere. Taking in the calm clamor with a trained ear, she surprised herself by recognizing the song within the sound. It was a tune that her father had been fond of turning to when he needed something to distract him from a busy stovetop or when he needed a special song to ease the young worries of his growing children and that familiarity was enough to convince Linda to follow the melody until she could find the source. At first her pace was slow and tentative, curious and charmed as she steered herself eastward down the long corridor leading away from the main stairwell but the lure of the song soon proved to be too much of a temptation and she picked up her tempo, her slight jogging taking her further away from her children until she was met with a blind corner that she veered around with all the foolish and innocent speed that still lingered from her memories of her comfortable childhood.

She let out an anguished grunt as she ran headlong into a squat mass of flesh, hair and muscle, her formerly rushed gait leaving her to fall on her back with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Her pain then messily combined with fright as the corner of her left eye could pick up the unmistakable gleam of a curved blade as it loomed above her head and the suspicions behind the possibilities prompted the young mother to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"COR BLIMEY!" Nigel Thornton yelled back as he hopped back on one, stubby foot, the eyes of the veteran warrior briefly bugging out in alarm before he could recognize the situation and let out a weighty sigh. "Good lord, luv," he then added while sliding his double-bladed hatchet back into the safe confines of his large, leather back scabbard. "Frighten the kernels off a cob of corn, you could," he went on while stooping to help the rapidly reddening woman back to her feet.

It took another handful of seconds before Linda could work up the energy to respond, her cheeks still a brownish burgundy as a result of her enduring embarrassment. "I'm. . . I'm so sorry, Mister Thornton."

The small, deep bark of laughter that Lloyd's former teacher offered as a rejoinder seemed to startle Linda further back into focus. "Ah, no worries, Miss West. An', I insist, just call me Nigel," he made certain to put in while he moved his right hand to wipe away at the snot that had gathered on the underside of his thick nose. "No need to worry about the 'ittle ones, ma'am. Jus' checked in on 'im not 5 minutes ago and they're safe as houses and snoozin' like logs."

Linda felt no need to restrain the slight smile or avoid letting out the breath that seemed to soothe a familiar set of nerves that had begun to make their presence felt nearly four years ago. "All right, Nigel," she replied with a great deal more certainty while she finished the task of dusting herself off. "I guess I couldn't get to sleep and I heard you humming something that sounded kind of familiar. A. . . song my father would sing to me."

Likewise, Nigel made no effort to restrain his intrigued as he raised his eyebrows at the intrepid investigator, the tiny bushes of blonde hair rising until they seemed to graze the scars along his broad forehead. "Huh. Never woulda thought that _Early One Morning_ would stretch all the way to the States," he replied, the suspicion sounding as if it was catered more to meet his amusement than to satiate someone else's curiosity. "Ah, it's just an old folk song I'd hum to Vincie and the guv if I caught either of 'em struggling through their sleep. I mean, I know they were young men by the time Mister Mao got a hold of 'em but it seemed like it always calmed 'em down. Don't rightly know how it sprang to mind, really."

Linda was kind enough to offer just the barest hint of a smirk before moving on. "My dad always liked to get up early and listen to the radio as he watched the sunrise," she noted while tucking a loose strand of her hair back to a point well behind her right ear. "And me and my sister slept in the room closest to the kitchen and I had to sleep close to the door so sometimes all his shuffling around would wake me up. So then, if I didn't want to go back to sleep, I'd just get up and go over to the porch to be with him and it always seemed like that song would be on the radio. . ."

"Oh yeah. Forgot that Radio 4 was still stretchin' its wings back during the early 80's," Nigel broke in, the stubby fingers of his right hand stroking his pudgy chin as he thought the matter over. "Of course, that doesn't really answer the question on why you're up and about durin' this late hour now, does it?"

The opportunistic grin resurfaced on Linda's lips as she steeled herself to give as good as she got. "And I'm sure that you're humming a 200-year-old folk song just because it's such a classy jingle."

Nigel found himself relenting with a hearty chuckle while scratching the rough, blonde hairs clustered on the back of his head. "Yeah, guess it's no good hidin' to a like mind, is it? I mean, it's always one matter to be able to watch the news or report on it as it happens. Quite another when you've got nothing to do but spin your wheels and wait on it to be all over." The swarthy fellow was momentarily tempted to apologize for the deflection but the sad certainty that seemed to dawn over his unexpected company made him quickly realize that it would have been a fruitless gesture. "So how long have you been waitin', luv?"

Linda fired back with a sad smile. "In another week it will be five years since our first date," she said while momentarily shutting her eyes tight. "And. . . I would never trade what I've gotten because of it is and I know that it's enough to keep me waiting for the life we can have together and. . ." She suddenly remembered that her mother would have been quite cross if she resorted to blubbering at a time like this and she swallowed up her tears with a practiced ease. "Do you ever get used to it?"

There was a half-second where the former lieutenant of Mao Tenryu was tempted to give in to his sympathies before he narrowed his eyes. "Wot? And you think I got this big gut just 'cause I like a pint or five with my breakfast?"

The question was enough to rouse a tired laugh from Linda and a dim but honest smile from Nigel, the two lookers-on enjoying the humor and sadness that they were able to share.

"God. You know, we're probably just worrying over nothing?" Linda finally threw out after running her hands through her hair. "I mean, they've handled all sorts of stuff like this before."

"Yeah, of course," Nigel allowed while waving his left hand forward in a dismissive gesture. "I mean, the situation may be a little grim but 's not like this lot would just wander into something that they couldn't get out of."

* * *

"Wow!" Robin screamed over the ear-splitting cacophony reigning down upon their heads. "Two seconds in and we've already fallen into the bad guy's trap! That's _got _to be a new record for us!"

Batman was kind enough to ignore the caustic (though accurate) words of his fellow Gothamite as he continued to look up into the endless expanse of black that loomed above him at the easternmost border of the Cliffs of Hashmalamum. It was the first time that the detective could make direct visual contact with the gargoyle-like Regid demons that Neron had employed for his standard shock troopers in recent battles past but the intel provided by The Black Dog and Zatanna had given him enough information to efficiently prepare him for the labors of leadership to come. Estimating the intermixed supplies of green and red skinned beasts to be nearly 200 in number, the shrouded warrior quickly locked eyes with his second-in-command and began to issue his silent though familiar orders.

In response, The Black Dog provided a brief nod in return before taking to the sky to lead the charge against the demonic swarm. He brought his gleaming silver saber, the _Mugalshir_, into his sure grip with a brief spurt of telekinesis while his other supernatural senses allowed him to recognize that Kara had moved to join him on his right while Stephanie and Eddie were just a fraction of a second behind The lives of friends and loved ones were once again in his hands and the half-demon made certain to do his best to anticipate and counter the bloodshed to come as he launched a blast of icy-blue energy from his unencumbered right hand that froze two of the lesser demons in their tracks.

"Keep as many as you can from getting to the ground!" Lloyd roared as he shifted his eyes to other matters even while his first victims of the day plummeted uselessly to the rocks below.

"Lame!" Robin boldly declared while firing a spiraling blast that scattered another half-dozen of her future opponents. "Lamelamelamelame, lamelamelame!" she continued to warble while twisting her way into the rapidly escalating fray with a familiar, emerald sheen of energy surrounding her orange-and-black battle armor. "I'm tired of farming these guys for experience points! Give me something new to fight!"

Lloyd was halfway tempted to shake his head in dismay but found it to be too much of a distraction as he shot a quick look towards his lover. _"We don't really know what their full game plan is here so we have to play it safe," _he cautioned his half-Kryptonian paramour while letting loose a gust of energy from his eyes that surged to meet the white-hot bolts of energy that were spat from the maws of the two Scarlet Regids to his right. _"We've got to buy Bats and the rest some time but we can't afford to be too distracted," _he continued on while putting a bit more energy into his optic efforts and erasing the pair of offending demons from existence.

"_Don't worry about me too much," _Kara cautioned her boyfriend in return. "_I'll be sure to keep an eye on Eddie in case these guys are here for him. You just focus on the battle and keep Steph from doing anything too stupid."_

Properly rebuked for his domineering ways, Lloyd was quick to realize the difficulty of his assignment as the half-demon's favorite Green Lantern continued to barrel her way through the swarm of winged monsters. _"Guess I deserve this for tryin' to be macho," _he confessed while taking out some of the gargoyles that were zooming towards Stephanie's blindside with some timely blasts from his right fingertips.

"_Don't worry about it," _Kara replied, the warrior's fleeting flash of anger quickly dispelled after she had surged forward to ensnare the neck and throat of the Scarlet Regid that had taken advantage of Lloyd's schedule and lashed its right wing across The Black Dog's back. A quick squeeze and twist had shattered the monster's throat, neck, and spine but The Last Daughter of Krypton was already on the move just nanoseconds after her latest victim fell from her fingertips, her lean, muscular arms surging in front of her as she barreled into a trio of Emerald Regids that were threatening to sink their sharp claws and fangs into Kid Devil's back and neck. "Watch yourself, Eddie!" she cautioned the most inexperienced quarter of the team's air force while continuing to bring down her newest opponents with a flurry of fist and feet. "The green ones will sneak up on you if you try too hard to chase the red ones. Just focus on defending yourself and let them come to you!"

"I'm trying!" Eddie shouted back as another bolt of energy slammed uselessly against his stomach, the half-demon's high body temperature and resultant resistance to heat and magic reducing the potential damage to little more than a slight singe along his crimson abdomen. Producing fuel from his own frustration, the Teen Titan managed to quickly overpower the scaly foe in front of them and locked the bloodthirsty critter in a one-armed front face lock. Knowing he only had a scant amount of time to take advantage, Bloomberg followed up the trapping maneuver by slamming one of his free knees repeatedly into the demon's face and solar plexus.

"I've fought these guys before but never so many of them at once!" the young fighter managed to yell back before wisely swinging the limp demon in his arms in a full circle to keep his other foes at bay and following that up by tossing his weighty projectile into the face of the closest enemy he could find in order to take both of his opponents out of the fight. Satisfied with that hint of his work, he moved quickly to ready himself for the overwhelming odds but found himself blinking dumbly as a black-and-blue blur buzzed around him eliminating the rest of the Regids one after the other.

"It's all right, Eddie," Kara said while swirling to a stop, her fists and forearms somewhat stained by the greenish-black blood of her fallen quarry. "Just try to focus on what you have to do and trust the friends around you."

The little devil almost jumped when he noticed the tall, blonde-haired beauty make use of the spare amount of time given to her by giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulders. It had been the first time in a long time that he had been touched by a flesh-and-blood hand and the relative chill of Kara's fingers felt like an oasis cascading down his back that simultaneously managed to summon a pinkish tinge to his cheeks.

_"Easy there, Li'l Devil. That lady's taken."_

Eddie let out a loud yelp upon recognizing not only the voice in his head but also the fair measure of warning within the telepathic candor. Still, even as the second wave of Regids loomed closer, his tawny eyes were wide as saucers as he registered the possibility that his rescuer seemed to recognize his disturbance before even he could.

_"Oh, I just __**love**__ it when you get all territorial," _Kara fired back through the telepathic link that she now shared with both Eddie and Lloyd. "_Just go Cro-Magnon all over me, stud." _

Just as she heard Lloyd let out a laugh that her ears could easily pick up, she responded with a smile that brimmed with all the good humor that Lloyd's mind could readily receive.

_These people are __**weird**_, Eddie couldn't help but think as the fight began anew.

* * *

"_Hey, Batsie? Did Barry ever get around to pointing out that you always asked too much of us?"_

The aforementioned "Batsie" supplied a mildly annoyed growl to the proceedings while witnessing The Fastest Man Alive go through his stressful paces. Indeed, in spite of the occasional backtalk and the frequent displays of hypocritically righteous indignation, the crimson-garbed speedster had long proven that he could run interference with just as much ability as his uncle. Further proof of this proficiency was provided as the several dozen Regids that had managed to breach their first line of offense soared towards them, the flaring chops of the crimson-colored monstrosities proceeding a wave of fireballs that streaked down towards the five soldiers that had been forced to remain on the ground. The numbers had been thinned to the point so that the barrage was spread out enough for Batman and Arrowette to easily get clear on their own but Arsenal, the bait selected by the team beforehand, was forced to put his life in Wally's capable hands and the scarlet blur responded to his duty by sweeping his friend away from the line of fire with time to spare. A golden trail of kinetically-spawned lightning dominated the rock-strewn plain of the battlefield as the first Emerald Regids to make it to the ground were batted aside with timely punches and kicks strengthened by speed and tempered by years of training.

"_Perhaps he was too busy making certain that he got his work done properly instead of mouthing off about how much of it there was to do," _Batman fired back while bringing a black-bladed scimitar to bear, the heavy, two-handed blade held firmly in place within the steady grip of his gauntlets. He readied himself by bending his knees by no more than 10 degrees while keeping the steel lying on his right shoulder, the move a classical Mongol stance designed to aid Genghis Khan's infamous infantry in the task of combating enemy troopers on horseback. The tactic proved just as handy with taking on an aerial foe as the master warrior brought the blade forward in a sideways lash that deflected the airborne lunge of a Regid that had taken too much stock in the weaknesses of its foe. Raising the blade he had long confiscated from Ra's Al-Ghul over his head, Batman allowed his opponent to endure a short but painful skid across the black-and-red rock floor before punching the blade through the middle of the demon's spine and piercing its heart with a brutal downward plunge. _"We can't be wasting ammunition in the early going."_

"_I know, I know!" _Wally fired back with a mild hint of knowing annoyance, the speedster also registering that Arrowette was using her sai blades rather than employing her finite supply of arrows. Recognizing that the blonde-haired sharpshooter wouldn't be able to safely keep up with that kind of combat for long, The Flash left Roy to his messy knife work and rushed to her aid. He didn't allow himself to take any pride in his work until five seconds and seven downed demons later when Cecilia managed to claim her first kill by leaping onto the back of a Scarlet Regid that had foolishly gotten too close and jamming the short, bladed weapon in her left hand through the back of the beast's skull. "_Still, I can't help but think that this is still a little too easy_," he offered while making another run through the battlefield and buying both Bruce and Roy a bit of breathing room. _"I mean, we all know that this is just the start of this trap but I can't help but think that I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."_

As it happened, the metaphorical footwear was forewarned by one Jason Blood, the warlock apparently not busy enough with his own sizeable portion of the ground combat to call out a warning to his comrades. _"Remain on your guard!" _the immortal shouted through the team's shared neural network with enough volume to make Wally feel as if his ears were just moments away from bleeding. _"A foul presence is afoot! The Gaia Battlers will soon be among us!" _

"_Gaia Battlers?" _Wally couldn't help but blurt out from the comfort of his own head, his confusion not enough to deter him from taking to the air in order to take down a trio of Regids that were attempted to draw a bead on Roy's blindside. _"What the hell are _SHIT!"

A hasty hypervibration of his molecules was all that saved Wally from becoming an allegorical bug on the windshield of the towering presence that had risen from one of the dozen sigils that now encircled the igneous flatland. Hastily restoring his molecular makeup and sliding against the floor of the battleground, The Flash had just enough time to look up and fully take in a monstrosity that looked to be anywhere from 20 to 25 feet tall, its purple skin mottled with muscles and well-arranged portions of jade and jagged exoskeleton. Perhaps it would have been more prudent to say that the creature was protected from head-to-toe but that briefest of glances also allowed the speed merchant to discover that the monstrosity didn't appear to have what one would normally consider a head. In fact, the creature's eyes seemed to spawn from what would have ordinarily passed as its shoulder blades while the round stump above its gargantuan chest was dominated by an oral cavity that was lined with thousands upon thousands of teeth. Those countless daggers seemed to quiver in hungry anticipation as the atrocity let out a savage roar that matched the ferocity of its many recently arriving comrades.

"_Oh. That's a Gaia Battler," _Wally recognized before springing back into action. _"You know, we may just be phenomenally fucked here."_

* * *

"Huh. Well, I've gotta admit that I didn't see Neron unveiling these guys during the pregame," noted one of the onlookers of the escalating battle. There was a brief note of reluctant admiration ringing from the young woman's tone but that and any other gesture of respect was almost immediately dissolved as she followed up with a derisive snort. "Damn, these Misfits can sure raise a whole lot of hell."

The elder of the two bystanders was not about to offer the slightest of response for either the poor play on words offered by his comrade or the sniff of laughter the little wretch rewarded herself with. "There are many within this group who had the potential for this kind of efficiency even when I was still amongst the living," he provided in an eloquent and well-practiced manner. "Mister Wayne, in particular, had long been a potential source for motivation in my quests to lay claim to my destiny. He would have proven to be a worthy opponent if circumstances had twisted fate into a more favored direction."

"Well, that is interesting," the young woman replied, her words thickly laced with sarcasm. "And now I'm hoping that all this work we've been putting in isn't just 'cause you're all mushy over the big, bad Batman."

As much as he would have preferred to avoid baiting his puerile collaborator, the cultured fellow couldn't help but look at the simpleton with dismay. And, just as he expected, his response did little to curb the unnecessary opinions that his lieutenant was so eager to supply.

"Man, Wally _is _a whole lot faster than he used to be, isn't he? Still, you can just tell that he still has a big ol' stick jammed up his ass. I mean, you can run around the world a million times but there's still no way that that straight-laced clown could ever loosen up."

The urbane orchestrator behind much of what was taking place around the theater of war was dangerously tempted to let out a laugh. That danger quickly noted and soon dealt with, he let out a quick cough to belay the possibility for good before moving on to more important matters. "Well, your unnecessary goading aside, I believe it may be time to make our presence felt. Our window of opportunity grows dangerously short."

* * *

Arsenal let out another filthy round of profanity while placing a wickedly sharp curved dagger back in its selected scabbard and replacing it with a titanium throwing dagger. Deciding to test his suspicions, the red-haired marksman threw the straight blade at what probably passed for the right knee of the nearest Gaia Battler and proved his hypothesis correct as he watched it harmlessly _plink_ off of the leviathan's solid armor of bone.

"Okay! Enough of this conservation bullshit!" he yelled out to no one in particular before curling his body into a left-side roll that allowed him to narrowly avoid another spurt of hellfire. The added bit of space the defensive maneuver provided allowed Harper enough time to parry the wing strike of another demon and follow up with a spinning, back-handed stab that buried his other melee knife into the gut of the nearest Emerald Regid. Then, no longer encumbered by his limited weaponry, Arsenal chose to take a chance and brandished the latest gift provided to him by the Karbarran military science division. "I'm still not sure what this thing is capable of doing but it's got to be better than what I'm doing now!"

Of course, while we await the often-good Mister Harper as he quickly lines up his shot, it would be safe for one to argue that it was rather foolish of the former Teen Titan and sidekick of Oliver Queen to bring a weapon he hadn't previously tested into such an unpredictable fray. On the other hand, that wise bit of effort would have completely destroyed the shock value when Arsenal lightly pressed the wide trigger and a huge blast of wind erupted from the widened barrel. The unexpected squall proved to be more than strong enough to send several of the Regids around the marksman scuttling across the increasingly hectic combat zone like a smattering of brawny, demonic twigs in a tornado.

"What the hell was that?" Arrowette screeched out as she scurried away from the potential impact zone even as her long, blonde hair continued to flutter across her eyes.

Roy didn't quite have an answer for his friend's perfectly valid inquiry but that didn't stop him from pulling the trigger again. Likewise, the mystery of how the unusual energy cannon in his hands could have possibly held in the recoil of such an attack was overcome by the joy he felt as he indirectly summoned another elemental commotion that was strong enough to blow back a pair of flame bolts at its owners before sending the offending critters crashing into the leg of the nearest Gaia Battler. Now he had even stopped bothering to think about and a wicked smile came to his face as he fired again, his next whirlwind scattering still more Regids at such a deliciously awkward trajectory that The Flash had to zig and zag his way through the proceedings just to avoid the plummeting of the gargoyle-like creatures.

"_What? There's tornadoes? Why are there tornadoes?" _The Flash shot back through the telepathic link as he scaled up the Gaia Battler closest to Batman with just the speed of his feet. His fists finally got some use as he battered away at the misshapen lump of muscle and tissue serving as the titan's left eyeball, the power and velocity behind his shots summoning a snarl from his opponent's colossal mouth as it wrenched backward in the midst of its suffering. _"Roy, I don't know how you're doing that but try to do it with a bit more competency!"_

Roy was quite ready to provide a pithy, neurological retort but his thoughts were overcome with chagrin as he pressed the trigger again but received no chaotic result. Quickly coming to the dismal conclusion that the energy cartridge powering the gun was either empty or had overheated, the gunman needed a moment to dash away from the earth-quivering footsteps of another Gaia Battler before something important managed to spring into his mischievous thought processes. Building up a potentially shit-eating grin in case he had room for it later, he launched a throwing dagger into the right eye of an Emerald Regid before moving to quickly examine the panel that neighbored the trigger mechanisms of his latest present. Remembering that the miniature cannon held multiple cartridges, Roy decided to take another guess and pressed the blue button on the panel before pulling the trigger again.

"LET'S KICK SOME ICE!" he roared triumphantly as the cannon spit out a corkscrew wave of energy whose arctic temperature raised a torrent of steam within the balmy landscape. As colorful as that was though, the sight paled in comparison to the spectacle when the surge of elemental force crashed against a pair of Crimson Regids, the extreme cold forcing the beasts' chests and upper legs to be encased within a thick layer of ice. Pleasantly intrigued by these results, the unexpected predator decided to try out another theory and pressed down hard on the trigger and, just as he expected, the Karbarran weapon followed his instruction to the letter and briefly stored up a good portion of the energy remaining in the second cartridge. Another gleeful snicker escape the hunter's lips as his weapon release its stored energy in the form of a wide blade of ice, the wickedly sharp weapon cleanly punching through another pair of Emerald Regids before missing the passing Wally West by a matter of inches in a close call that forced his fast friend to tumble to the ground into an ungainly heap.

_"Son of a BITCH!" _Wally yelled back while taking the picoseconds he needed to get back to his feet. "_Who the hell would be dumb enough to give you something that would let you do that?"_

_"Just focus on the task at hand, Flash," _The Batman sagely advised his understandably peeved comrade while finally digging into the vast supply of bladed Batarangs stored within several pockets of his utility belt. It wasn't something that he was too privy to resort to but the inclusion of the enormous monsters on the battlefield had forced the expert fighter to commit to the more important task of defending Jason from harm while his far more powerful colleague employed his power to wage war with the Gaia Battlers. A complex series of incantations had allowed the immortal warlock to bring down one of Neron's mighty guardians and it seemed that all Blood needed was just a little more time before he could weave together enough energy to bring down the other one loping towards them from the north. _"Get ready to make for the mountains to the west as soon as Lloyd and Stephanie finish making room. That will get us some more room to deal with _UGH!"

Batman cursed his poor calculation as the stomping of the Gaia Battler forced the rising of a column of earth that was nearly centered at the detective's feet and far too wide to leap away from in time. A bout of fancy footwork into a quick crouch had saved The Dark Knight from suffering a pair of broken legs but it still wasn't enough to free him from the trap as the plume of rock rose high above the ground. Preciously short morsels of time dragged on before the rise was cut short and the sudden lack of solid ground left him to the mercy of the giant monster that had plucked him from the air like a frog would lash out and ensnare a passing fly. The vigilante feebly struggled to break the grip of the large, thick fingers around his body as he was brought closer to the Gaia Battler's rot-infested maw, the thousands of teeth inside fluttering from the strength of the beast's vocal chords as they awaited the opportunity to sink into the tender flesh of its captive.

What the Gaia Battler got instead was a mouthful of forty tons of rock that crashed into the circular cavity with enough force to nearly dislodge the monster's torso from the rest of the body. Decidedly no longer equipped to properly keep up with its captive, the long arms of Neron's servant loosened as quickly as the rest of him and allowed Batman the chance to pry himself free. Still, the fact that his freedom came in the form of a freefall down to the hard rock below may have been a bit depressing but Batman found himself saved once again as he was caught by another mound of rock about halfway down. Of course, Batman was quite aware of the fact that the rigid terrain of Neron's realm was not the sole cause of his safety and all it took was a simple glance upward to confirm the orchestrator of his rescue.

"Damn! K'ory _was _right about you bein' scrumptious! I mean, you're just D.I.L.F.y all over the place!"

As he was wont to do, Batman responded to the cheery greeting with a sour and righteous glare.

"Markov," he replied coldly.

The waifish, buck-toothed geokineticist responded to the curt greeting by raising and lowering her eyebrows so that her clear goggles would slide over her blue eyes. "You can just call me Tara, you know," the ex-Teen Titan and spy replied gamely while shifting her eyes back forward in order to properly steer her selected lump of stone away from the remaining Regids and Gaia Battlers. "Well, it looks like my new boss has helped your guys put this battle well in hand so how's about you just hold on tight so you can meet the big cheese." Then, seemingly unable to help herself, the dead, little temptress tried her best to fix Batman's eyes with the hungriest glare she could muster. "You can hold on to my hips if you're scared."

Batman didn't need to even look at the mischievous powerhouse to properly display his sheer lack of attention to the lascivious request, his analytical energies already devoted to the lone figure standing at the northernmost edge of the waning battlefield. The detective paid a scant bit of attention to the chatter going through the shared neural link, his tendencies of a guardian appeased by the remark that the added burst of telepathic energy had allowed Jason and Lloyd to lull the Gaia Battlers to the point where they would be easy pickings for Kara and Wally. That being said, the questions and words of warning were casually brushed aside as Markov drifted her inanimate steed to the ground below near the feet of the familiar and fearsome presence.

"I'm not surprised."

Grodd seemed to appraise the detective with a slight tilt of his bushy eyebrows, the gorilla's beastly features safeguarded by the cunning intelligence that had allowed the murderer to bring the surrounding events to form.

"I did not expect you to be."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

It just occurs to me that I have nothing interesting to say here. Really. Just do some reviewing if you can, play some Castle Crashers, and if anybody can tell me how to get their hands on a plush doll of Dixie Kong then I would be most appreciative!

* * *

_Issue #109 Preview_

They did it! They finally did it! And, now that he's done it, what will Gorilla Grodd's role be in the war against Neron and his unholy army? How will the ruler of the nether dimension that served as the fateful battleground respond to the results of the opening skirmish and how will the traitorous actions of one of his own will set forward a chain of events that will change the lives of The Misfits forever? All that and Alfred whining about having to clean comforters in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Demons of Our Nature. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	109. Demons of Our Nature

Issue #109

Demons of Our Nature

As peculiar as it may sound, the sight of the mighty animal leading the way through the reddish-black foothills that served as the outer borders of Neron's domain seemed absolutely unremarkable in the midst of everything else there was to consider. In fact, he appeared to be little more than an 850-pound gorilla that one could find amongst the deepest glades along the Congo or even perhaps within a well-funded zoo, its grayish skin contrasted by the surrounding coat of black fur to serve as proper camouflage for the nighttime hunting that the creature was born to engage in. His long, robust arms hung in front of the beast's muscular torso as it continued to lope through the short knolls and inclines, his thick knuckles hanging around his knees as he moved forward on the strength of his legs alone. It was all part of a simple motion that brought an almost casual sway to his motions even as the humans and demons behind him were coerced into stepping up the pace in order to keep up.

Still, all veils of normalcy aside, one needed only the quickest glance at the ashen-covered plain of this currently peaceful purgatory to recognize that this was a land of exceptions. And, as was often the case, Grodd's exclusion from the natural could be found within his deep, black eyes that held something a great deal more significant than a mere bestial intelligence or an instinctual need for comfort and survival. No, these shady pools provided the outline of a life inspired by a thirst for superiority and sullied by the arrogance that tended to come with it, an existence pockmarked with ungainly pursuits and grand reaches for power and vengeance that tended to make for a noteworthy existence.

No epiphany or extended time of repose could hide this manipulator from either the truth of the reality of what he had been. He had drawn pride from his intelligence along with his claims of superiority and had reaped the benefits and the punishment that often came with such endeavors. Of course, he had also chalked up the existence of a soul after death to be little more than theological codswallop designed to entice the pathetic workers of the world into continuing their plebian yet necessary tasks. He hadn't considered that the noble ambitions he had sought to achieve throughout his life, those set pieces designed to help him broadcast a grand and defiant challenge against those who would weigh him down with the limitations set down by morals and the rules of both the society he had been expelled from and the human world he tried and failed to control, would yield such a hasty and ignoble end.

"You were wise to accept Neron's narcissistic summons," Grodd began again, his words trying their best to pierce through their speaker's psychological miasma. "The artifacts and colleagues that he has brought into his employ and possession all but guarantee his control over the dimensional nexus upon the retrieval of his latest bargain. So, as it stands, the nine of you are the only creatures alive who could possibly put a stop to Neron's designs before he is able to exact a catastrophe upon the world of the living."

"So we were able to suss out on our own time," The Black Dog replied, the Brit's tone not sounding as skeptical as it could have been. "Still, the fact remains that there's only a slight handful of options available to us that can put any kind of a crimp in this guy's plans."

Grodd briefly cut away from his focused movements and turned to regard the half-demon with an appraising eye. "Quite so, Mister Thomas," the cultured animal replied, the jagged edge from The Black Dog's words begetting a more cultured tone in the response. "The most pressing matter, of course, is the relieving The Bane of Velius from Neron's clutches. That, above all the current matters, would loosen the demon's grip upon the access points between this dimension and Earth."

"Neron is well aware of the power he has received from his thievery," Jason Blood butted in, the distance between the front of the procession and the rear of the line where the warlock had spoken up from coercing the immortal to speak louder than he would have liked. "The blade will be guarded closely, perhaps even by Neron himself."

Grodd felt no need to offer any unnecessary agreement to the fact, his desire to look into the eyes of his colleagues quickly evaporating as he looked and moved forward once again. "There is also the possibility of liberating the Bane's proper owner from whatever form of confinement that Neron has placed him in. The added force and power of persuasion provided by regaining such an ally. . ."

"Exactly why should we trust you again?"

The mixture of agreement and annoyance that had planted its seed within the moment of Grodd's reveal was slowly becoming impossible to ignore but The Flash's pointed remark forced the issue fully out into the open.

"Herrrrre we go. Right on schedule!" Terra exclaimed in a singsong voice while rolling her eyes in response to the typical display. "And exactly how many times have we helped save your asses in the last couple of weeks? I mean, I helped Donna get out of The Anti-Life Equation and she ended up helping up saving Mister Bangers and Mash over here, I just saved Admiral Hottie," she added while shifted her thumb away from Lloyd until it was pointed directly at the understandably perturbed expression on Batman's face. "And I fried that Martian dude when you went to that oracle guy!"

"Not without somebody helping you get to those spots at the precisely right time," The Black Dog retorted, the second-in-command's focused tone inviting a flash of bedroom eyes from the dead woman to Grodd's left. "And, hey, all current sentiments aside here, the combination of your talents and your current state of being would make you phenomenally useful to Neron."

"Indeed they would," Grodd attested, his quick admission prompting an annoyed huff from his rebellious lieutenant.

Lloyd nodded in agreement in return, his eyes and thoughts not twisting away from his fellow telepath for so much as a moment. "But J'onn's brother would have been more valuable to Neron than the both of you put together."

"Hey, pretty boy!" Terra fired back, the wording and the caustic tone inviting an admonitory glare from a certain half-Praxian warrior woman. "Did you or did you not see me start up a Martian fish fry a couple days back?" It was clear that the explosive temper that had put an end to the young woman's life years before its time was threatening to rise up again until Grodd wrapped the enormous fingers of his left hand around her shoulder.

"It is not your actions that are under trial here, child," Grodd said with a mild hint of impatience, the animal continuing to keep a firm grip on the former Teen Titan until she shot him a sign that she had recovered herself. "Our half-demon colleague is merely pointing out that my current actions hardly concur with my past history," the former Rogue and leading officer of Alexander Luthor's Secret Society found his attentions turning towards his most notable nemesis and even managed to lock eyes with the scarlet speedster before finding himself compelled to retreat towards more impartial grounds. "Miss Markov, while your seditious behavior could be easily attributed to an emblematic resistance to authority that is so commonly found in the minds of young humans, my willing decision to defy our captor's intents would obviously require a great deal more evidence to be taken seriously."

"So pleased that you can understand our concern," The Batman said in agreement, the detective's tone only a shard or two warmer than whatever The Flash would have had to provide.

Grodd, to his credit, remain unperturbed. "You would defame my opinion of you if you were so quick to be trusting," the outcast of Gorilla City confessed, his right hand extended into an open palm. "However, in an attempt to allay your doubts, my actions today and the reasoning behind them remain the same as when I interfered with Arthur Light's vulgar attempts to rape Miss Brown. Simply put, I hope you will not underestimate my own intelligence by believing that I would be blind to the potential rewards to be had if I and my colleagues had chosen to aid Neron in his attempts to expand his sphere of influence."

"Or of the value of earning our trust just so you could stab us in the back and make us that much easier for Neron to bring down," The Black Dog added before clearing his throat and moving to slide in front of his commanding officer. "Hope the counterpoint is coming here soon, Wild Kingdom," he then replied, his brusque rejoinder earning him a quick chuckle from Terra and a look of relief from Robin. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm quite grateful that you protected Stephanie when I couldn't. . ."

"You should remind your understudy of the value of patience, Mister Wayne," Grodd coolly replied while turning his attentions back to the shrouded man in question. "Just as I hope that you can believe that I am able to fully understand Neron's offer, I wish for you to have faith of my ability to understand the truth behind this devil's façade." Grodd wasn't the least bit surprised to see a familiar and cold blank glare and the appearance of it didn't deter the longtime manipulator in the least. "I am fully aware that an alliance with Neron would, under the worst circumstances, bring about the very shattering of my soul as it has with Ma'alefa'ak and that is a fate I would never wish upon myself. That being said, if I chose to ride with Neron to his potential victory then I would simply be bound to the services of another master and that too is a fate that would make eternal damnation appear like an Eden."

"So what are you searching for here?" asked Kara, the angel-faced murderer finally managing to meet Grodd's seemingly all-knowing gaze. "What do you have to gain from helping us?"

Ever the fan of irony, Grodd allowed the awkwardness of the moment to linger even after his killer looked away. "I have spent the last four years suffering for my sins, Kryptonian. In fact, I've found it quite amusing to understand how being able to hear the snapping of your own spine can allow them to appreciate an existence without regret or rageful ambition. Or, if that explanation is too verbose for your liking, it is my hope that fighting this good fight will allow my soul the peace that I now seek."

* * *

The tattered remnants of Ishmael Gregor could all but feel the pulse of the demons within him as he sat on his haunches, the thick muscles in his hulking legs compacted but still relatively unstressed as silence continued to loom over his surroundings like a welcome mantle. The Bane of Velius was his equally noiseless company, the eternal force resonating from the flawlessly crafted blade speaking to not only the most darkest and most powerful portions of his own soul but also to the firmest branches there were to the collection of evil essences that empowered him. The clarion call had long proven to be a harsh mistress, its eternal attempts to resist control of any form testing his resolve but the determination of the dark vessel had proven to be too much for it in this early going.

_How foolish_, thought Gregor, _how positively idiotic was he to ever believe or even fathom that the power he had righteously wrestled from that fool Karnes was to be limited to manipulating his former existence? _The years of restlessness delivered to him by The Black Dog's merciless blade, for every other bit of damage it had caused, had allowed Gregor to learn the error of his ways and begin to search for something more despite the handicaps offered by a seemingly impenetrable prison.

Neron's offer was nothing more than the catalyst for the ascendancy to his higher purpose. He would not give unto temptation and he could no longer forgive any more failures to fully invoke the full potential of the blade at his feet. He would force his enemies to suffer the fate brought upon him with his own righteous fury before returning to the world of the living, stronger than before and he would _never _be denied of his desires ever again.

Another reminder of his past ineptitude was quickly brought to his attention as the demon opened his tawny eyes into slits before rushing his left arm forward and grabbing the intruder by his neck. The startled gurgle that emerged from the throat of his victim proved to be pleasing to his ears but then that display of fear and surprise on his victim's countenance had quickly shifted into a strained laugh of delight and that was enough for Sabbac to hurtle the black-and-white clad figure across his spartan dwellings.

"Geez," wheezed out Arthur Light even as the psychic plaster continued to rain down on his head. "I just show up to get something for show and tell and here you go havin' to get all violent," he added with a sneer before hocking up a glob of black blood that had spent years rotting away within the charred organs of his animated corpse.

"Don't even bother to pretend to play coy," Sabbac countered, his disgust visible and palpable as he swooped down to place The Bane of Velius back in his unyielding grip. "Your sinful stench is far too strong to pass under anyone's senses, least of all my own."

The psychotic seemed to think that theory over as he brought his left hand up to smooth through the uneven thatch of hair that had managed to survive amidst the skinless chaos of his weak chin. "Well, maybe I should just be glad that all the demons in your head are impressed with me," Light replied while moving to blow a bloody kiss at his disgusted comrade. "Still, there's no need for the righteous hypocrite act. I mean, Lord knows you've probably done your share of raping and pillaging when you were still among the living."

The human half of Gregor found himself visibly repulsed by the accusation but yet the demons that powered him were gifted with enough patience to beat back the violent potential. "I'm afraid that you are mistaken, _tovarisch_," he countered coolly. A more puerile portion of the former mobster wanted to point out that he had rarely been without a woman willing to share my bedside throughout his adult life. Additionally, it only took the merest glance into the collective histories of the monstrosities that inhabited his spirit that he had inherited something that had never appeared to be short of takers willing to suffer a fraction of death in exchange for a fair supply of pleasure and potential. "As hard as it may be for you to believe, some of us can achieve what we desire through mutual agreement."

Perhaps there was a bit of irony in the fact that Arthur Light seemed to resist the urge to sneer. "So now we've got a monster takin' pride in the bad stuff they didn't do, huh?" the pilferer asked unnecessarily while tilting his head to the right. The move was performed at just a stiff enough angle for a loud _keerack _to resonate within the surroundings as the murdered murderer resnapped his neck back into place. "Tell me somethin', Smirnoff. Didja ever think that maybe Neron asked you to cash a check that your ass can't cash? Like maybe you're just not bad enough to handle that shiny little toy you got to play with?"

Gregor's rising temptation to rip his unwanted guest limb-from-limb was curtailed once again, this time by the shifting of his physical surroundings rather than through any form of stress relief. Unable to keep his thoughts together enough to do anything about it, his stark surroundings soon shifted fully into a sun-drenched beach of an ancient island that once served as a peaceful haven for ancient sailors traveling the Aegean Sea. Finding himself feeling more than a little awkward at the feeling of sand seeping in between his bare, thick toes, Sabbac looked up to spy Circe responding to his furious stare with a relaxed smirk.

"Oh, don't stop on my account, gentlemen," the immortal witch noted, a beguiling smirk punctuating her dangerous exquisiteness. "It's been a slow day and watching the both of you uselessly tearing each other apart would make for a fine distraction."

"Is there a reason you're here?" Sabbac broke in, the greater demon clearly tiring of the unnecessary interruptions.

Arthur Light, amused by the surrounding lack of social graces, was ultimately tempted to throw in as well. "Aw, come on, Greggy. Tits like that don't need any preamble as far as I'm concerned," the self-amused taunting earned the corpse another ferocious glower from his Russian counterpart that wore on even as Light turned his full attention to admiring Circe's voluptuous frame. "Hey, pretty lady. Don't suppose you'd want to be the first volunteer after Neron gets me back alive and proper, do ya?"

The longtime seducer of men and gods alike responded by flashing a thin smile, its intentions so inscrutable that Mona Lisa herself could have never hoped to match it. "Batman and his troops have successfully passed through the opening gambit. Neron is expecting the both of you in the central meeting hall so that we may address how we will eliminate them." It didn't surprise Circe in the least that Light continued to try his best to examine her like a piece of meat. After all, thousands of years spent twisting and toying with far more powerful minds than the one that confronted her now enabled the witch to know a confused bull of a man when she encountered one. "I'm not prone to repeating myself so either continue your manly posturing or hurry up and get to where you need to be."

Light saw the pawn scuttling forward and pounced on it like a hungry wolf. "Oh, there's a lot of places I want to be with you, baby," he countered while running that cold, slug like tongue along his desiccated teeth. "And all of them are a lot more interesting for you than just standing here and bein' a messenger boy for Neron."

The objectionable accusations were enough to coerce Sabbac into striding forward once again, the move perhaps a launch into a voluble roar or another display of physical dominance but Circe defused the situation once again with a simple tilt of her hips. "Well, as much as I would enjoy spending my bedroom with a glorified zombie, I'm afraid that I have a variety of more palatable presents on my plate," she finally replied in a manner that didn't faze her current pursuer in the least. "Still, out of kindness, I will take the time to tell you that Neron is more of a man than you will ever be, 'Doctor'."

The witch's knight began razing her opponent's defenses as she turned her back upon the two lieutenants of Neron, the swivel of her sylphlike hips purposefully designed to lure her prey in further.

"Ah, and no matter how loathsome you are or how monstrous you pretend to be," she thought to throw in as she continued to slink away from Sabbac's chamber. "You'll never be half the demon Batman could be."

Arthur Light gave in to his desire to fume as the delectably loathsome bitch faded from his presence, the only remaining trace of her stemming from the deep, throaty chuckling that was still tumbling from Sabbac's lips. "Ah well," he finally declared with the forced calmness of a scavenger. "Who needs a shriveled up shrew when I've got something a whole lot tastier comin' my way? A nice, delectable little bird who just can't get enough of me." The mere consideration of once again submerging himself in the fear and the will of that little blonde-haired tramp was enough to bring a genuine smile to Arthur's lips. "I'm gonna finish the job that I started, the same one that you couldn't even begin to finish and then Neron'll see who really deserves that shiny little pocketknife."

Gregor was sporting enough to avoid the truth as his de rigueur comrade-in-arms faded away with a twinkle of the light that powered him. That disappearance brought Sabbac back to being able to look in on his current surroundings, his bullish nose easily taking in the phantom scent of the blood that coated the walls in the wake of the previous influence. Still, only seconds were needed until he was ready again, the grip he maintained upon the hilt of his borrowed blade never loosening even as his mind summoned a scarlet-red sigil at his feet, the magic imbued within the markings of Neron soon allowing the greater demon to drift away as well before the blood on the gray, stone walls could run closer to the floor.

* * *

Batman was inclined to offer his second-in-command a handful of credit for his recommendation to observe the core of Neron's domain from one of the distant precipices that Grodd had eventually guided them to after nearly three hours worth of travel. Of course, the strategic magnitude of acquiring a direct lay of the land was an obvious advantage and something that the strategist in him deeply appreciated but there was another portion of The Dark Knight of Gotham City that drew something else from it. That part all but forced him to appreciate the desolate beauty offered by this unique tableau. The surrounding crags and peaks seemed to be a composite mixture of black rock and a variety of brownish dusts darkened and grown coarse from the lack of sunlight. Demonic power and the illumination drawn from the eastern volcanoes provided the only form of illumination and the bizarre sight presented Batman with a shadowy background whose horizon was presented to him like a book in a language he couldn't quite recognize. There was a message here within this dank purgatory and, try as he might, the illumination offered by the night-vision lenses installed within his cowl couldn't provide a translation sufficient enough to either satiate his curiosity or belay his suspicions.

"How simple is it for the tired and tried to take comfort in whatever uncomfortable relief their surroundings have to offer?"

The permeating darkness beckoned Batman to turn around fully to confirm the sight of Grodd making his way up the highest portions of the mountain. The vestiges of the gorilla's voice continued to echo and bounce around the vigilante's ears as he observed the beast allowing his brute force to make up for the careful determination that he had been forced to employ in order to reach and remain on the jagged summit. In fact, the animal continued to impress as he employed whatever footholds he could use to safely propel his way upward, the primate's stern toes digging into the hard stone where there were no footholds to be found.

"I was informed that you wished to speak with me," Grodd explained as he came to a stop, the flat of his feet now dug safely into a slight plateau that jutted out from the otherwise sheer face. "I will presume that Mister West is the one responsible for getting you up here so quickly that I would be forced to climb the entire way to meet you."

"Feel free to thank him personally," Batman replied with a snort, his steady foothold allowing him enough stability to cross his arms across his chest. "He's watching you as we speak."

Smirking in recognition of the fact that the next card had been played, Grodd ascended even higher up the face until the animal could find a wide enough outcropping to safely endure his enormous bulk. "Well, then perhaps I'll give a jaunty wave should I happen to see him," he then threw in while settling down, his posture a reminder to the detective that he demanded respect despite the handicaps of the situation at hand. "Mister Wayne, if your question has to do with the veracity of my intent then let me say out front that I will make no more efforts to prove myself either to you or your young compatriots. The outcome of the coming battle is already unpredictable enough to allow another undue or unnecessary distraction."

"I see." Batman found himself almost relieved that he couldn't pick up the subtle buzzing that tended to reside in his senses whenever his mind was under attack. Of course, it would have also been foolish to underestimate Grodd's cleverness and even stupider to believe that the telepath couldn't find a way to weave through his defenses. "I recall Green Arrow and Hal Jordan providing me with a similar reasoning upon asking why I should work with them."

Grodd allowed himself a slight smile, the learned beast amused by the barely predicted form of defense. "Ah, yes. I had been a frequent witness to the rumors of your colleagues and their tampering with the minds of their enemies," he concurred, his jagged incisors poking from the walls of his thin lips as the satisfied smirk grew wider. "Personally, I had always believed that the permanent alteration of one's long-term memory was always a risky bit of business. After all, can not the weakest muscles of men, when focused upon and nurtured, achieve results far beyond anything the owner of that skin and sinew could imagine?"

"Don't start striving for the high ground, Grodd," Batman snarled back, the warrior seemingly unafraid of either his precarious position or the fact that his opponent could have overpowered him within moments. "If you do respect my intelligence then you should know better than to resort to such hypocrisy."

Grodd's smile crept wider, if only by millimeters at a time, but the amiable nature faded away with far greater velocity. "Then don't insult my intelligence with the notion that I owe you anything. The Kryptonian's firm grip notwithstanding, we both know that it was by your order that I was made to be an example for those who desired to overthrow the order that you yourself were working to disintegrate. I do not fight against Neron to curry your respect or ask for forgiveness but merely to appease my own troubled soul. No more and no less."

Several understandably stressful moments passed before Batman appraised the claim with a tight nod of his head. "Then I'm not allowed to ask about why you have chosen to take such a path? Given your acumen, you should be well aware that such redemption might very well be of little value to those who would judge you."

Grodd let out a pensive grunt, the anger within it directed more at himself than at his calculating questioner. "I will answer your question upon the condition that you first resolve my doubts about you," he finally offered, a squall of blisteringly hot wind slapping and wilting against his firm face and unblinking black eyes. "The past months of unease have allowed for the cobbling together of many theories upon why you have chosen to adopt this blood-stained path. Both the death of Jason Todd and the growing threat of Luthor's Society in the midst of the mistakes made by you and your longtime comrades would certainly serve as critical factors but I find that I cannot quite bring myself to believe that these combined causes can provide the entire answer. And, now that I have this admittedly unique opportunity, I believe I would welcome the peace of my mind that can only come from a response from the responsible party. What is your reason for anointing yourself with the power to rob others of their lives and the dreams, hopes, and damnations that run alongside those finite years?"

Batman was quite aware that his audience could not see the intrigued tilt of his eyebrows. "What makes you think that I'll tell the truth?"

Grodd replied with a gamely shrug of his massive shoulders. "It matters little," he confessed. "If I believe you to be deceitful then I will simply invade your mind and determine the truth for myself." The casual tone failed to bait his foe but the murderer and outcast allowed himself some amusement nonetheless. "Or are such practices no longer the status quo among those you would call your allies?"

The explosion of smoke and molten rock almost 5,000 yards away allowed enough time for Batman to take another look at the situation on his doorstep. "I've made it my goal to rid the world of those who attempt to take more than what they deserve from the world that we are all destined to share," he replied even as the volcanic eruption continued to burble and churn. "Jason's death, the actions of the Society and people like it, and the mistakes of the past are all part of it but not the whole answer. This conviction is completed because I have seen too many people lose far too much because I chose to satiate my ethical worries rather than uphold my childhood promise." The detective's memories of Sarah Essen's funeral flashed before his mind and he accepted the pain that came with it.

Witnessing the silence, it was simple for Grodd to realize that it was his turn to appraise the worthiness of a collection of impassioned words, the normally neutral intellectual finding himself being absorbed into this vein of information. "An interesting way of wording coming from such a privileged child," he noted, his candor remaining in a neutral candor if only thanks to his interest of discovering the full truth.

"Make no mistake," Batman replied. "I include myself in the list of those who have received far more than they deserved. Our history is already far too muddled by those who wanted to make certain that they will be known for their good intentions rather than be recalled by what their work actually brought about. I can only use my wealth and power and talents to allow others to have the opportunity to experience the freedom that was handed to me at birth. I will fight the battles that must be endured in order to allow the rest of the world to see what life could be on more peaceful horizons."

Needless to say, there were a number of ways that the lone spectator could respond to Batman's impassioned soliloquy. And, to the detective's startled surprise, Grodd chose to shape his answer into a round of honest laughter that brought a spike of anger to rumble through Batman's gut as the gorilla's rounded chest quivered in the midst of the activity.

"Ah, bless you humans and your desires to make things more complicated than they should be," Grodd finally countered, his boastful conjecturing somewhat dampened by his dwindling laughter. "All nobility aside, however, you must admit that you have gathered a great many rewards from your supposed selflessness. By opening up your heart and home you have acquired a number of treasured possessions that you would likely have not been able to obtain otherwise: a loving family, a group of loyal and powerful soldiers who willingly accept and follow your dangerous cause." Finding himself still amused by his opponent's determined efforts to keep his fury in check, Grodd allowed himself some time to collect his thoughts while wrapping the thick, furry fingers of his left hand around his hefty chin. "And, not least of all, a daughter who enriches and stokes your intentions and thoughts to an unyielding boil."

Perhaps it was a good thing that Batman had become known as a creature of unending determination. After all, he needed all that and then some to bottle up the accusing glare that exploded from his stony veneer.

"What do you think you're talking about?"

Grodd offered himself another bout of open amusement, the sight of this unyielding warrior so easily revealing his vulnerabilities simply far too interesting for the intellectual to ignore. "I may choose not to dig into your thoughts but that will not stop me from enjoying the metaphorical cream from the crop, Mister Wayne. The world you so nobly claim to protect is near a point of mass upheaval and yet your thoughts are still emboldened and plagued by how one lone young woman will respond to how you choose to face it. Likewise, just as she recognizes the challenges to come, your little robin still frets and fumes over what you will do, what you will say, and what you will choose to leave unspoken."

Finding himself quite contented with the tense silence, Grodd finally chose to take pity on his prey. "I also spent my life seeking control and contentment through employing the gifts that fate had placed upon me. It was that ambition, that manifest desire that brought me to my undignified and deserved end and now I find that the only thing I can hope for is that what little remains of my existence will provide an opportunity to be at peace. Like your choice to continue forward despite your reservations, I must seek out what I desire through the most likely way that I believe I can obtain it."

By now the tremors of the faraway crater had settled but the lack of distant clamor had given way to another uproar. Tempted to steer his attention towards it, Grodd swung his massive frame and clambered upward for a handful of seconds until his toes could dig into the serrated rocks of the mountain's crest. The new vantage point allowed the beast to look down upon the massive army, thousands strong, that had assembled along the plains that lay below. There were humans and demons and hybrids of all kinds, each of them the shells of confused, damned souls that sought an end to the questioning, strife, and confusion by contradicting the very actions that had brought them into Neron's clutches in the first place.

"And now I will leave you with a question that I will allow to go unanswered," Grodd began again. "Look down upon this force I have assembled, monsters and wayward saints alike that will battle Neron's unending army for a sliver of the same serenity I seek and that you can so easily obtain. Then ask yourself if they are any less worthy of another opportunity?"

* * *

Gregor was hardly surprised by the sight of the four empty, stone seats that lined the massive chamber that Neron had fashioned to serve as their meeting hall. Though the sense of organization brought about by twenty years in various outlets of the Russian mafia was capable of igniting a spark of irritation in response to the lax unity but that disturbance was quickly labeled as one of the least of his worried. Thus assured, the avatar of six of the most powerful demons in all of recorded history looked upon the faces of the three fellow servants of Neron that now accompanied them and fixed each of their attentions with a determined stare, the fine, black hairs on his pronounced chin bristling as he moved to speak.

"Gentlemen, the work of our scouting party has allowed us to confirm that our master's selected foes have risen to the bait," he began, the fiend's gruff Russian parlance adding a tone of mockery into the introduction. "We will soon meet our enemies upon the battlefield and exact our righteous vengeance upon those who are responsible for forcing us to dig our way back up to glory." The words may have been concocted by Circe and approved by Neron himself but it was Sabbac's job to pour meaning into the claim and the long months of exile and frustration allowed the formerly uncultured brute to provide exactly what was needed. "The next step towards achieving our dreams and ambitions stand before us and now our long wait has finally brought this bitter harvest where we will reap what we have sown."

"Blah blah blah! You know, all these farm metaphors are starting to make me think that you're just looking to get back to Earth and phone up that sheep that turned you down when you were a kid!" suggested Arthur Light as he rolled his neck about his shoulders. It was quickly made apparent that the impetuous powerhouse was withdrawing a great deal of entertainment from his annoyance as he slid his feet onto the onyx, marble table that dominated the center of the wide chamber. "So how come I have to be here for this little shindig anyway? I mean, you've already got Shakes and the undead punching bag here to keep you company," he pointed out, the former leader of The Fearsome Five gesturing towards Chronos and Sebastian Blood in turn. "How come the rest of the big guns get to take a powder and I have to sit here and waste my time with you?"

"Because Circe and the others are already trusted to complete the tasks that will be asked of them," Sabbac calmly replied, the tip of The Bane letting off a brief sparkle as if it meant to complement the demon's glint of warning. "Their duties have already begun and, just like the rest of us, it is their privilege to carry them out in the name of Neron."

"Perhaps you should allow the rest of us to determine that for ourselves," a sensuous voice replied, the honeyed tones managing to snap even Chronos out of his still silence and bring the time manipulator to full attention. This, in turn, allowed Walker Gabriel to worship Circe as she effortlessly traversed the blackened stone on her high-heeled shoes. "After all, I think all of us are old enough to be able to avoid having words put in our mouths."

"Agreed," added another voice, this one deeper, more prominent and clearly the calling card of a creature who hadn't had the slightest interest in Sabbac's threatening encouragement. Still, despite the lure of his opening words, Zalbarda chose to make his presence felt within the proceedings without any more of an unnecessary show. "I will not bother to fool myself into believing that Neron is my superior or that his orders are to be followed without question," the old rival of The Condemner continued on, his midnight cloak wafting at his back as the greater demon chose to take the seat that stood at the northwestern corner of the table. "However, for the sake of practicality, I will think of him as an equal and a creature whose council will aid me in acquiring what I desire."

"Hmm, just sounds like a whole lot of talking out of a big, blue ass," Arthur Light noted, the rabble-rouser producing another cold smirk as he steepled his fingers so that his joined ring fingers would press against the burned bit of tissue that passed for his nose. "Looks to me that you're just as in debt to the big guy as the rest of us."

Zalbarda managed to allow just the slightest of glances towards Light before finding himself utterly disinterested. "What news do you have to report, Circe? I apologize for not asking sooner but the mongrel's yapping momentarily distracted me."

"Oh, that's perfectly acceptable," Circe replied while giving her elder a prim smile. "Our mutual benefactor has declared that the usefulness of Grodd's pointless diversion has run its course. To wit, Neron has ordered us to scatter the armies available to us and deploy them along The Plains of Hasmalamum in order to eliminate this meager resistance."

Zalbarda allowed a thoughtful hum to slip through his cracked, indigo lips. "Grodd's army should be the least of our concerns. What if we expend so much of our energy stopping them that we fail to keep our sights on our expected visitors?"

Circe offered another beguiling smile, the enchantress quite aware enough of Zalbarda's intelligence to recognize that the demon knew the intent behind her next response. "Sabbac will return The Bane of Velius to Neron before taking on the task of organizing and leading this operation. Chronos will accompany, of course, in order to employ his unique abilities to control the activities of the Gaia Battlers. That should be more than sufficient to annihilate the pests that both us and, should they escape and attempt to reach their ultimate destinations, we will be put to the task of eliminating Batman and his forces ourselves."

"When is Scandal?"

The peculiar question brought a mostly uninterrupted halt to the proceedings, the lone exception to the rule stemming from the crackle of Zalbarda's tangible aura of electricity as all eyes turned to Chronos. As distant to one another as Neron's lieutenants clearly were, each of them were unified by the acceptance that there was something about the time traveler that was able to put nearly all of them ill at ease. He moved little and spoke less, the scant breaks from the former often originating in the form of sudden jerks and snaps of his limbs as if the dabbler in history was occasionally being violently yanked from something that nobody else was able to see.

"What's that, Walker?" asked Sabbac, the hardened criminal and wicked beast speaking to the slightest among them with the gentility of a doctor addressing a dangerously violent patient.

Sebastian Blood nearly gave into the urge to startle as Chronos yanked his neck and stared into Sabbac's eyes.

"The time," Chronos explained in what could have been thought to be a plain, calm demeanor. "I kill it but it keeps coming back! Again and again." Some of those mentioned seconds slipped by as the former Society member looked down at his worn hands with his one remaining eye and noted how they shook. "Maybe it's 'cause the Earth keeps spinning around," he reasoned. "It. . . just. . . keeps. . . moving."

"Heh heh. I love this guy." Arthur Light declared while stretching to the left in order to wrap Chronos into a one-armed embrace. "Reminds me of one of those retarded kids who'd just sit there with the teachers that sold candy and pickles during recess back at my middle school."

"I am sick and tired of your constant belittlement of others, you fetid worm!" Sebastian Blood spat back while rising rapidly from his seat, the youngest of the lieutenants allowing his temperament to get the better of him. "What gives you the right to mock a fellow servant of our master? He has been endlessly toiling away to ensure our control of the Gaia Battlers while you've done nothing more but seek out ways to fulfill your disturbed delights!"

"That is enough," Zalbarda said calmly, the greater demon rising to his feet and stifling Sabbac's more ardent display before it could lurch from the blocks. "I believe we can all agree that Chronos has and will continue to pull his own weight. And, likewise, I must also make certain that my own mission is carried out so if you will all excuse me. . ."

"I see what you're going to do," Chronos blurted out, his hollow, empty tone managing to coerce the godlike demon into momentarily ceasing his sweeping exit from the meeting. The time traveler then casually shrugged off Light's grip while slowly rising to his feet, the slow motion drawing a look of interest from Sabbac and nearly prompted Circe to flee as quickly as she could. "Your future is pleading you to not go through with it," he continued once he had finished his languid journey back to his full height, his lanky frame occasionally teetering and tottering like a flag shivering in a mild wind. "The success you'll have today will only lead to your downfall in the morrow."

Already well past the point of his waning patience, Zalbarda briefly regarded this tired, overstressed creature and let out a slow chortle. "A scant respect for your nerve, little human," he said while turning his back to the crowd once again. "But you are merely a passenger on the murky craft I was piloting for far longer than you'll ever live."

* * *

_November 1__st__ – The Plains of Hashmalamum – 237.29 kilometers from Neron's Palace – 7:06 A.M. _

Robin set her feet down onto the dirt once again after making another hasty flyover of the army that Grodd had assembled, the usually confident Green Lantern gleefully talking a bolster of confidence from the vast assemblage of monstrosities that would soon walk, run, crawl, and fly alongside her. Perhaps this confidence was wrongly placed by the far larger force that they had been expected to take on but Stephanie had long taken comfort in strength through adversity whether it was her own or from someone else that she could witness and observe.

And, indeed, the reeking array of flesh, bone, sinew, and scales had a great deal of misfortune to surmount both on this day and the countless ones before them. Decomposition and years upon decades upon perhaps centuries of torture and righteous punishment had left their marks upon nearly every sinner that had resisted Neron's siren song. There was a Fyarl demon whose left arm had been torn from its shoulder until the bladed cartilage hung to the remaining tendons by a thread, his chest blistered and still peeling from the unforgiving heat that the Green Lantern had guessed to be the source of the creature's castigation ever since the bloodthirsty monstrosity had been shuffled from its own mortal coil. A filthy, bedraggled human female stood to the monster's right, the left side of what Stephanie had guessed to once be a pretty face now rendered into strips of rotting flesh that hung off the blackened bone. There was little way of telling whether the absolute rage in the woman's eyes had been just as powerful in life as it had become in death and the proclaimed avatar of willpower suddenly found herself not very keen on finding out.

She suddenly felt like creating the spectral image of a horse that she could gallop down the half-mile long line. She wanted to ramble on about The Fields of Pelennor or ask aloud about why the Spartans ever thought it was a good idea to create a bottomless pit but she had to settle for the scruffy sound of moving rock as Tara Markov drifted over to meet her.

"You're wondering why everybody is in the shape they're in, right?" Terra asked over the sound of shuffling rock beneath her feet. "Neron's got control of the souls that were sent to this particular nether dimension and it may still be his duty to make certain that we wicked folk aren't erased from existence entirely but that doesn't mean that he has to take good care of us in the meantime." The former spy provided a surprisingly even smile as she tilted her torso to one side, the shifting of her weight allowing Stephanie to get a good view of the boiling, blistered flesh that lined the lower half of her back. "We've all got our own things to answer for, after all."

Stephanie suddenly found herself desperately wishing that she could crack another joke but the energy it took to keep from staring was enough to distract her from the desired endeavor. In fact, the sound of a familiar whistle was nothing short of a godsend as she turned to meet Cecilia, the sight of her friend's blonde ponytail swishing back and the forth in the wake of her sprinting a sign of life that she desperately needed.

"Man! This is some crazy shit!" Cecilia exclaimed, the understatement hardly lost on the flustered vigilante. "Batman's helping Wally finish up a last-second check of the eastern flank but he should be by shortly," the archer added while moving to check her bow. "Hey, Terra! Exactly _why _haven't these 20,000 guys sided with the 200,000 other guys on the other side of this hellhole?"

Terra fired back with an eager smirk as she joined Arrowette in shifting her sights toward the eastern border of the bloodstained flatland. "Maybe some of us think that this could be the best way of getting out of all the stuff we put ourselves into in the first place," she offered while drifting her eyes upward to meet the thousands of Regid demons and other flying beasts that littered the air so thickly that even the light of the faraway magma was almost completely blotted out from sight. "Maybe some of us have got a mad on for the guy who was responsible for making certain that our punishment never stopped," she reconsidered as the rattling of the ground soothed her weary bones, the tremors produced by the heavy treads of the 200 or so Gaia Battlers serving as just the most powerful of the thousands upon thousands of footfalls that slowly coursed towards them. Then, finding she had a bit more time to work with, the former traitor and current soldier tried to estimate how many of them she would bring down with her as she raised and lowered her eyebrows in order to bring her goggles to rest on the bridge of her nose. "Or maybe we just want to raise a little more hell," she construed while bringing her power to bear once again as the solid chunk of stone beneath her feet began to rise up from the ground.

"Well, that's something I can endorse a little bit," Robin considered while going airborne herself, the reborn brat and fool floating side-by-side with her fellow flawed, flaxen-haired madwoman. "Try not to kill me until after we get the job done, wouldja?"

It didn't even matter that Terra had kept her eyes on the source of the impossible odds. The arrogant sneer that graced her lips was broadcast so strongly that Robin didn't need to see it to know it was there.

"I make no promises."

"We shall not falter in the face of difficulty or defeat! We will no longer allow acceptance to govern our beliefs in what lies upon the path of our traversing spirits!" Grodd roared while galloping down the line, his mighty rush flanked by Kara and Lloyd as they flew behind him.

Cissie took another moment to count the number of arrows in her quivers. Wally allowed Bruce to leap back down to the ground before rushing away to the opposite side of the battlefield, the instructions laid out for the speedster firmly entrenched in the soldier's mind.

"This is the day of our redemption! This is the day where we will break free from the ties of fate we allowed to slip between our limbs so that we may answer the questions of the footman in full!"

Roy spun the last of his spare revolvers into readiness, his whispers of a prayer to keep his daughter safe still dancing across his lips. Eddie shut his eyes tight and let out a deep breath as the last vestiges of Jason's spell came to an end. Then, craning his eyes open, the young half-demon forced himself to match wits with Etrigan's knowing stare.

"This is where our eternities of suffering and penitence draw its maligned fruit. Let us craft our woe and suffering and form that foul trickery of life it into our fists until we know for certain that the servants of our tormentor will feel what we have endured!"

Sabbac allowed himself a smile as the tsunami of chaos and rage waved through the air without the slightest bit of resistance, the assembled demonic essences taking great pride in what they have done and, indeed, what there still is left to do.

"CHARGE!"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Ain't it amazing how life can throw us into something we don't expect? I mean, it just seems like it was yesterday when I had gotten my undergraduate degree. I was still having my parents help me with paying for my car and my rent and I wasn't really certain about where I wanted to go from there but I was looking to go through a creative undertaking that was a little bit more lively than a GRE essay or my 1,300th mock IEP. Stephanie had just died at the hands of The Black Mask and an uncreative legion of scriptwriters and the frustration with seeing a character that had so much potential getting flushed down the drain ultimately encouraged me to slip out of the role of a strict watcher and become a doer.

That was almost four-and-a-half years ago and now look what's gone on since then! The DC Stephanie is back from the dead and in another costume! Captain America died! Spider-Man made a deal with the devil! I got my master's degree and my own apartment! I've written 109 issues of this childish, infantile but supposedly epic series! Batman died! Captain America came back to life! My dad has retired and no longer has to worry about me showing up and asking for my old room! Batman came back to life! I discover an untapped abundance of exclamation points! Oh, the list just goes on and on, doesn't it?

Don't ask me why I decided to take this route with the author's note section. This little place used to be just something where I could talk about comics and other silly stuff but, to be honest, I don't get to the comic store as much as I used to and I've gotten to a point in my life where it doesn't make too much sense to go on and on about what's going on in it.

So what would you like Misfits Confidential to be? Feel free to send in suggestions along with your feedback and I'll take them under advisement so long as the ideas are relatively sane. And, if you're kind enough to offer some helpful advice, I just might award you with a worthwhile next issue preview!

* * *

_Issue #110 Preview_

The battle between Grodd and Neron's armies has begun and Bruce's gang of ne'er-do-wells is caught in the middle _and_ charged with the task of putting a stop to the madness before everything that lives is forced to suffer the consequences! But how are they supposed to even know where to get started in the face of the overwhelming odds? What do Sabbac and the rest of Neron's generals have in store for the resistance and why does Neron remain away from everyone's eyes? There's no guarantee that you'll get all the answers you're looking for but be certain that blood will be spilled and the gears of fate will continue to turn in the next installment of The Misfits: _Curse of The Eternal Showman. _Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	110. Curse of The Eternal Showman

Issue #110

Curse of the Eternal Showman

_November 1__st__ – Plains of Hashmalamum – 7:09 A.M._

So long as she kept a rather skewed way of looking at things, Cecilia could see the enormous theater of war laid out around her as an exceedingly fractured game of hide-and-seek. After all, despite all the dangers that this vast throng of corrupted souls and conflicting intentions, the environment and its ripe plethora of hulking distractions was something that a comparative slip of a girl like herself could easily take advantage of. Following the enduring counsel of her longtime patrol partner, she meandered through the traffic as it busied themselves with matters that seemed more dangerous than her while the tips of her sais ever quick and eager to sink through the skin of any creature that bore the familiar sigil of Neron upon its armor or skin. Nearly three minutes of this allowed her to tally up three kills and nearly be slain herself thanks to the double-bladed ax wielded by a particularly persistent Kurunkar demon (or at least that was what Lloyd referred to it as when she asked him about what it was and, subsequently, where she should stab).

A hitched grunt escaped from some corner of her throat as she felt a blade grate against the armor protecting her lower back, the sharpness of the weapon drawing almost enough blood and pain for her to stumble to the parched earth. Struggling to keep her feet, Arrowette tilted her neck back as well as she could and managed to make out a portion of the orc-like demon that was holding the dagger stained with her blood in his right hand, his left hand ready to swing a pockmarked sword that was obviously meant to do a great deal more damage than the strike before. Still, to her credit, she had managed to roll away from the wide arc of the strike even before a black-bladed scimitar swept forward to meet it and the swiftness of both her and the unexpected defensive gesture from a second party seemed to startle the puce-colored demon, its bullish nose wrinkling with the annoyance that came with a missed opportunity for a kill.

Batman hardly needed that much of an opening to get the job done. Using his own body as a fulcrum, the detective swung the heavy weapon in a circular motion that soon brought its wide edge slicing through a good portion of the back of the beast's neck. A grunt and a mighty shove allowed the caped crusader to remove the blade from the cluster of muscle and bone that had prevented a complete decapitation of his dying quarry and a Wushu-style spin kick to the gut left his opponent to stumble to the ground, the torso of the dying monstrosity already slick with the black blood that flowed from its grievous wound.

"Nice to see you're still alive," Cecilia noted while leaping over her partner's stooped stance with a graceful somersault that brought her to land safely at Bruce's back. Distracted and thankful for the added protection, the young combatant still managed to notice the frayed state of the armor that covered Batman's left shoulder. "I'm guessing that whatever slip-up you had is the reason why I'm not getting chastised for my slip-up?"

The more experience warrior responded with a rumble of a grumble given birth not only by the words of the woman watching his back but also by the stinging sensation of his bleeding shoulder.

"I'm a little busy right now," he grumbled while continuing to fight back-to-back with the illegitimate daughter of Oliver Queen, his stolen weapon looking like an extension of himself within the low light of the faraway molten rock.

* * *

Roy's once-overwhelming ego was close to deflating completely before the third consecutive shot from his revolver managed to pierce the left eyeball of the Crimson Regid that had come screaming downward to kill him. The fifty feet that separated the marksman from his target when the fatal blow was struck allowed enough time for the red-haired sharpshooter to dive out of the way of the corpse's plummet but the hard ground was stiff on his already aching shoulders and he ended up with not as much time as he would have liked to set up a good shot at his next selected opponent. As a result, the best Arsenal could do was a shot to the right kneecap that only succeeded in ricocheting off of the demon's scaly limb and coming three inches away from his left ear at such a speed that forced a distracting yelp to slip from the lips of the usually composed soldier. Needless to say, this hardly left him in the most advantageous position to avoid the Fyarl's double-handed downward thrust of the spear clenched within its meaty fists but his saving grace eventually came in the form of a clever but sloppy forward dive. It was hardly the most pristine of life-saving maneuvers, particularly since his right ankle crashed against the Fyarl's thigh and sent the rest of his body crashing face-first to the ground and under the legs of the demon rather than through them but it still allowed him to dodge death once again.

_BLAMBLAMBLAM!_

Three quick shots to the lower spine proved to be far more efficient than Roy's first avenue of attack and his far stronger opponent proved it by letting out an anguished howl while stumbling forward, its frayed instincts no longer thinking of the kill. Taking advantage of the pain of his prey, Arsenal hastily pushed up the upper half of his body until he could bring his legs forward and bend his body into a crouch. Choosing accuracy over power, he snaked his left foot out in a precise, sweeping motion that allowed him to curl his toes around the Fyarl's thick ankle and send the raging beast down in a heap much as he had been only a handful of seconds ago. A quick, one-handed kip-up allowed Harper to regain the higher ground and he put an end to the game by putting a bullet into the back of his opponent's neck, his free hand already busy with snatching the sharp spear from his opponent's fading grip.

He had only lightly wrapped his hands around the long grip of the jagged blade when a pair of Emerald Regids swooped down and set themselves to the task of killing him. The first attempted to cleave his head from his shoulders with a slash of its razor-sharp wings while the other deftly circled around awaiting the best chance to strike. Quickly recognizing the disadvantage in his position, Arsenal used the beast's superior strength against him by weaving underneath the strike and countering with a precise, upward swing that merely cut into the tendons along the wide limb rather than trying and failing to dig into the sharp, hard bone. The anguished squawk of his suddenly bleeding foe sharply pierced his eardrums but it wasn't enough to keep the weapons expert from twisting his body along with his original motion and using that to power through a forward thrust that buried the spear's long blade deep into the Regid's gut. The long shadow of his other foe was creeping into the rear point of his sights so he made no effort to remove his stolen weapon from its nest amidst the demon's muscular abdomen and dove to the ground once again to give himself the slightest chance to avoid the downward dive to come.

His instincts finally failed him as a flash of orange-and-purple rushed before his eyes, the eyes of the former predator finding difficulty in registering the sight of the incoming Regid being swatted away by the recently arrived presence with the ease that he would have employed for a bothersome fly.

"_Your endeavors, your venture for glorious renown, so hampered, so bolstered by your fate's imperfect crown_," Etrigan crowed while continuing to push back his own portion of the swarming offensive. _"You question your Savage-ry where your limits doth hide, yet your desperation shrieks against this_ _shameful tide."_

Arsenal couldn't help but roll his eyes while finally freeing his new favorite weapon and pressing the green button that would unleash a maelstrom of wind upon friend and enemy alike.

"'You're welcome' would have sufficed, y'know!" he roared back before pulling the trigger.

* * *

Robin grit her teeth while continuing to push the gathered energy around her forward, the force barrier that served as the product of her work pushing back the multitude of beasts closing in around her and giving the young Green Lantern some precious room to breathe. It was more a gesture of frustration than necessity, the detonation of supernatural force serving as an indirect response to the futility that was sinking in with the idea of fighting back this seemingly unending swarm. Oddly enough, the fair-haired Gothamite had long grown accustomed and even welcome to the opportunity of raising havoc on a crowded battlefield but this opportunity was presenting itself with a behavioral exception to the rule and Stephanie was struggling to figure out why.

_Liar_, a voice in her head bit back, the tone unfortunately sounding like one Timothy Drake. _God, did he look yummy in that turtleneck sweater._

_You're not struggling to figure out the why. It's the who that you're really dancing around._

"Shut up, me!" she shouted back, the decision to respond to her own internal monologue providing yet another bit of evidence that she was getting ever closer to concluding her one-way trip to Asylumville. Interestingly enough though, it was the distraction of pondering over that conundrum that allowed her to easily push through the creation of her emerald energy claws and their subsequent cleaving through the throats of the first two opponents that came her way after her forceful push had subsided. "Can't you see that I'm trying to preemptively save the world here?"

"_Well, here's hoping that you can succeed where the rest of us have failed." _

Stephanie wished she could be cross with her big brother as she watched him cut a swath through the western edge of Neron's mob from the corner of her right eye. Still, she pieced out the sight of the _Mugalshir _as it winkled amidst the aerial carnage and found that the annoyance had been soothed over by a timely balm of relief. It was active proof that another person she cared for was safe, perhaps even evidence that she didn't have to watch over someone for the fear that they would go away from her the second she turned her back or shut her mouth.

"_I'm not certain if more self-chatter really counts as silence_," Lloyd quipped back through the shared telepathic link. _"Still, it's nice to know that my little sister can channel surf through her own issues."_

"_Oh, quiet, Puppy," _Robin spat back while bringing herself back to full power, her usually pale-blue eyes slowly becoming awash in an emerald blaze as the so-called champion of will soldiered on.

* * *

Sabbac remained far away from the core of the growing battlefield but yet his unique vantage point allowed for a firm glance at so much of what was going on in it. The greater demon considered this bit of good fortune and took a weighted breath as he regarded the death around him, his nostrils flaring with the intake of hatred and fear and the shattering of ill-fated existences. Shifting the black dots of his pupils within the bright trenches of his tawny eyes, the hunter managed to make out the sight of Grodd within the mess as the ruminations of Belial allowed him to glean the determination within the beast's actions. The fists of the hirsute brute of an intellectual were tarnished with the blood of his injured or vanquished opponents and his black pelt was matted with a similar sheen of crime and misfortune and the dry dust that continued to kick up as the fighting continued but Gregor could realize that his quarry's thoughts were not on such trifle matters as appearance.

It was a manner to be respected, he realized. In fact, so much of the behavior and the bravery and desperation embedded within it proved to be something that both the human host and the demons that powered his massive frame could admire in certain circumstances. Just like the years he had spending long nights drawing what comfort he could in hollowed out factories and worn residences in the mornings while stalking for opportunities on the frayed, cobblestone streets at night, Sabbac recognized the determination of these blatantly outmatched fools and their desire to seek something better for themselves. The point of whether these valiant fellows were searching for redemption or a proud end to their existence or even a last chance to raise havoc in the world of the living had become irrelevant in all the violence until it became the stark remainder of what it simply was and he appreciated this product of war as much as he could. Gregor recognized the motions as a path he would have likely chosen if he had been forced to do so and he displayed that recognition with a simple nod of his head.

"Gaia Battlers," he said dully. "This place has become too unkempt for your master's liking."

Wishing to be respectful, Sabbac kept his eyes on the war in front of him even as the hundreds of Gaia Battlers all simultaneously opened fire, the combined power of the beasts annihilating everything it could touch.

* * *

_November 1__st__ – Underneath Mount Elidibis – 4:22 A.M._

"For all the power and ferocity of Neron's forces, we would do well to remember that the demon's army is only a minor piece in this puzzle," Grodd informed his attentive audience, his long, brawny arms drooped so his powerful hands swung at his knees. "To spend too much energy on facing them in battle would certainly bring about our destruction but to ignore them completely would be nothing less than textbook stupidity."

The naturally-crafted burrow within the eastern edging of the enormous peak had come to serve as a propitious meeting place that Grodd had employed to directly correspond with other beasts and sinners that had chosen to take umbrage to Neron's ambitions. The cavern was just as monolithic as one could imagine from the domain of a monster such as Neron, its high walls only lightly illuminated with the glow of makeshift torches that bathed the midnight-black walls with an air of foreboding that could easily sink into anyone looking to be discouraged. Thusly, neither the bestial leader of the resistance or his distinguished guests chose to note that the lofty fissure was likely serving its purpose for the final time. Gathered through word-of-mouth and the sharing of common thoughts, the nine men and women hand-picked by Neron to challenge him had joined the leader and his young lieutenant within this expansive grotto in order to receive and deliver some last words of advice.

"I believe that this is something we can all agree upon," noted Jason Blood, the long shadows cast by the surrounding torches wrapping around the eldest of the conversers. "Our core mission should center on liberating whatever advantages Neron would have should his forces manage to successfully immigrate to the world of the living. The only viable solution, given our limited resources, is to preserve whatever power we may have in our possession and use it to remove the head from this metaphorical snake."

"And, as we have discussed before, there are two ways to bring about what we mutually desire," Grodd concurred, his short bound forward bringing him to the center point of the room. "The most difficult and yet obvious action, of course, is to relieve Neron of The Bane of Velius so that he will no longer possess the inclusive control he currently maintains over the dimensional nexus. Our second and more likely option, however, is to free the blade's rightful owner from their imprisonment. That turnover of power, though perhaps not enough to turn the tide fully within our favor, will allow us to maintain a potential for success should our attempt to complete the first task ends in failure."

"Okay, so we're looking at a multi-pronged attack here," Lloyd followed up with a matter-of-fact candor. Unlike his older contemporaries, the British half-demon made no real effort to put himself in the spotlight and was apparently more comfortable with leaning against the western wall of the somewhat-circular cavern. "An' that means that we're going to have to split up if we want to do this right and _that _means that we're running a greater chance of loosing a lot of the few numbers that we have to work with."

"Which means that we need some kind of distraction," Batman countered in a predictably unemotional manner, his stern nod serving as a silent order for his second-in-command to table whatever issues he may have had until a later time. "And, given the foreseeable odds facing us, we can only hope that the opportunity prevents itself quickly."

The potential critique was easily handled by the director of the proceedings without so much as a cluck of the tongue. "Why do you think that I have put so much effort into assembling this army of exaggerated fodder, Mister Wayne?" asked Grodd. "That being said, you know as well as I of Neron's compulsion to commit to grandiose displays of his power. As I have heard from your subordinates, he has attempted to take over the monastery in Devon when there was no way to hold his possible capture and even went so far as to attack both Tenryu Tower and Wayne Manor, two symbols of what Neron would see to be the order that he wishes to eliminate, for no other reason than to baldly display his capacities and that craving is something that I will seek to take advantage of."

"All right, I get it now," Kara claimed while breaking away from The Black Dog's side, her long steps steering her towards the halfway point between Batman and Grodd. "You think that they'll try and end the battle early in order to break the morale of your forces." There was a smidgen of heat in the severity of the half-Kryptonian's glare that she slowly directed to both of the generals in turn. "And then you expect us to just cut and run and leave these souls to their fate?"

"I have little need for such naïveté in simple times such as these, child," Grodd replied, his contemptuous candor quickly returning in full force. "Do not pretend that every wicked portion of my damned legion isn't already well aware of their odds of witnessing another day of their forced atonement."

"They're not the only creatures I'm worried for," Kara countered, her slender shoulders rolling up and down like they were throwing off the resentment garnered by the lack of compassion. "Because if you're willing to sacrifice them then what makes me think that you won't be willing to sacrifice anybody that I care for?"

* * *

_November 1__st__ – 7:24 A.M._

Arrowette let out a sharp hiss of pain as her left ulna ground into the gaps of muscle and bone. The agony was enough to throw her off balance until she could not control her stumble to the cold, cave floor alone, her rough impact bringing about a hustle of activity as she struggled to regain control of her senses. A series of vessels along the medial antebrachial cut were frayed from the milling of the bones and the archer felt her arm growing a little bit colder even as Batman gently wrapped his arm around her lower back before hefting her to a seated position against the cavern's far wall. Her instincts for flight remained strong in the wake of the pain but the trust she felt was far firmer as Batman's experienced eyes and fingers quickly steered him towards the chief source of her agony, his agile fingers seemingly dancing across her bleeding limb.

"We need you over here now, Robin!" Cecilia heard her partner growl out, the force behind it bringing her to startle through her growing delirium. Of course, the urgency within Batman's exclamation brought the blonde-haired Green Lantern towards them that much quicker and soon she let out a wheezing sigh of relief as an unseen force tended to her bow arm. Keeping her gaze certain and unafraid, she liked to think that it went a long way to curing whatever frantic instinct her friend may have had as Stephanie put the finishing touches on an emerald cast that wrapped around the broken bones and held the limb so that it would lay against her stomach. A thank you was right on the tip of the vigilante's tongue and a plan was already beginning to formulate in her thoughts before the sound of shuffling but powerful steps fractured the moment and shifted the attention away from her.

"What is the verdict?" Grodd asked plainly, the lack of light around him somehow making the beast look that much more fearsome in the eyes of the wounded crime fighter.

Cecilia could almost feel the emotional bomb starting to tick down amongst her comrades and she knew she had to move quickly. "It's just a broken arm. It'll be a quick fix with Steph's magic," she declared with an air of confidence she wasn't sure she had while struggling to heft herself back to her feet on her own power. "I just need a little time to recover fully, Grodd. Fifteen minutes, tops."

There was a hint of the predator in Grodd as he looked over the situation and Cecilia could feel it as well. Having come into full contact with her limitations time-and-time again, Arrowette needed little prodding to recognize that she didn't have as gifted of a mind as the telepath. On the other hand, she did know enough to recognize when she was being judged and chose to keep her gaze calm and certain even as she felt the complaints and defiance begin to rumble from both Batman and Robin.

"You have twenty," Grodd finally declared, his eyes on the archer as his large snout took in a vestige of the grime and grit that lingered around the expansive passageway. "In the meantime, I would appreciate some assistance in scouting the nearby environs."

"Yeah, sure," Robin quickly replied while leaping back to her own feet even, the springy action convincing Cecilia to crumple back against the wall in the midst of mild exhaustion. "Cissers, if you need anything. . ."

"I'll be fine," Arrowette insisted, her conviction providing the last bit of inspiration that her friend needed to turn away. Encouraged by her composure under pressure, the added boost of confidence was enough to convince her to wait to respond to the suspicion and worry that she had been left to deal with. Turning away from the sight of Grodd and Robin's backs, she managed to put together a look that she knew would worm its way through the diminutive holes in that impenetrable cowl and the eyes that the black cloth and opaque lenses were designed to hide.

"Go ahead, boss," she finally allowed. As she expected, her permission was all that was required to convince The Batman to examining the supernatural binding to the critical extent that he desired. "Far be it from me to deny the overly suspicious ways of the world's greatest detective."

Batman's refusal to fire back with even the mildest of glares prompted Cecilia to let out a relieved chuckle. "This is strictly for efficiency's fake," he crossly replied as his gloved hands swiped against the solid light designed to help put Cecilia back together again. "The steep descent cost us enough time as it is and we can't afford any more unexpected distractions."

"Uh huh," Cecilia replied, her obvious hint of amusement drawing a half-smirk from her partner. "Just don't start fussing over that old scar on my elbow like you always do."

Batman slowly removed his cowl so he could look at Cecilia face-to-face, a gesture that wasn't the least bit designed to prove to his patrol partner that he hadn't been looking at the previously mentioned wound. "I thought you told me that we were only supposed to refer to that as a souvenir?"

Cecilia responded with a wry smile as she tilted her neck down in order to get a decent look at the three-inch blemish that ran along the underside of her elbow. "Yep. Still think it was awful nice that The Cavalier could find the time to give me a present on my first night out on patrol with you." The irritated grumble that followed was fully expected but still a nice thing for her to hear. "God, I didn't think I'd get any sleep that night the way you were fretting over it."

"I do not fret," Batman groused back while settling himself against the cave wall, the urge to let loose another glare overwhelmed by the evidence that it would have been a pointless gesture.

"You are _so _a fretter," Arrowette replied with a roll of her eyes. "Still, I guess that's your way of showing you love us, huh?" The rhetorical question drew a prolonged bit of silence that allowed enough time for the enterprising woman to roll her head back and forth on her shoulder blades. "Of course, that tactic doesn't always work as well on some as it does on others now, does it?"

Cecilia rode through the wave of surrounding annoyance without a hint of trouble and even came through it with a smirk. "You know, it's not like anybody is asking you to go to any father-daughter picnics, boss. Still, even an emotional eunuch like you should know enough about what's going on to see that there's only one way you're going to get yourself out of this situation you're in with Stephanie."

The dull _thump _provided a distinct burden of proof that the proper emotional chord had been strum. Lazily tilting her head back to the left as if her neck was a seesaw, Cecilia had enough time to watch Batman tilt his head back forward again after he had gently slammed the back of his head against the rock wall behind them. "Actions may speak louder than words but it's easy to gloss over someone when they're screaming," she added on, the persistent pain and mild exhaustion making the young sage wonder if she was actually getting her message across. "Now I'll admit that I don't know everything about the relationship between Steph and her father but it seems to me that he was a guy who either did a whole lot of talking without trying or a whole lot of trying without staying around _for_ the talking."

The disdainful snort that Batman provided in response was all that Cissie needed to hear to recognize that she was on the right track.

"It isn't my job to be Stephanie's father," Batman finally replied, his usually stern voice coming out a bit tired and drawn. "Arthur Brown, for all his troubles, was a man who gave his life as a member of The Suicide Squad, as a person who felt responsible for what he had put his daughter put through."

Now it was Cecilia's turn to snort. "Typical man. What kind of person would want somebody to die for them? Stephanie wants a father who will live with her. Oh, and it most certainly is your job, by the way," she countered, the matter-of-fact tone in her words clearly displaying which party here was the teacher in this particular domain. "In fact, you yourself chose to pick up that task from the moment you let her stay at the manor rather than have her go right back to her mother and the life she had before. You willingly brought Stephanie into your world in a way that you never did with Tim even when you knew that he would be more suited for the job you had in line for him. Maybe it wasn't what you saw when you took Richie home from the circus when he should have gone to Social Services or when you brought Jason home when he should have gone straight to juvie but it was something! You wanted a family and all the good things that came with it and it isn't fair that you keep taking in all the good things while trying to shuffle away the trials that come with it."

"Well, excuse me, but I've been busy," Batman hissed back, his anger on as full of a display as he could manage. "I have a world I need to watch over, a city I have to protect, and a family that lives under my roof so you'll excuse me if I don't have the time to fix Stephanie's lunch and be there for her. . ."

"You're deflecting. . ."

"I'M NOT DEFLECTING!"

Cecilia let out a long, cleansing breath in her partner's stead. "The both of you have been using all the shit that's been going on to cover up the fact that you're both looking for confirmation," she calmly offered as a rejoinder. "There's Cesar, Selina, whatever messed-up crap that happened with this Doctor Light guy and the stuff that went on with The League and now we're sitting here in a ripe slice of hell and all _you _can think about is how many ways you can screw up your relationship with Steph and that is the polar opposite of what everybody else needs right now."

"So how would it be fair to you, Cecilia?"

The simple question held none of the vitriol that Cecilia had expected and it was that deficiency that was what truly acquired her attention. Wisely drawing her sights away from the dark, infuriating figure that she had fought alongside for years, she managed to take another glimpse at the tired man who lay behind it and waited for him to worm his way to the forefront past the hardened hero and the foppish veneer.

"You're my family," Bruce said plainly. "You, Dick, Kara, Lloyd. . . all of you."

Arrowette would have given so much to avoid the twinge that managed to poke through her tough exterior as she received her distinction but her reserved weren't enough to hold back her willowy smile. It was almost enough to make her want to dive inside of herself in order to give her ego a good beating but, once again, the resolve to get her message across continued to neatly coincide with the refusing of her arm.

"Thank you, Bruce," she said softly, a slight tilt of her head sending the message that she was ready to let Bruce go on. Her patience held firm as the cautious champion brought his eyes back to the ground, the move a silent invitation for her to go in his stead. "But Dick is old enough to be a father, I already have one and Kara and Lloyd weren't looking for another one in the first place."

Karma managed to catch up to her for a second as her calm composure was momentarily broken when she tried to stand back up on her own two feet, the sharp reminder from her still recovering limb reminding her that she wasn't quite as much of the big shot as her talk was presenting her to be.

"And, in case you haven't been able to deduce this, Stephanie is a little bit different than the rest of us."

* * *

_November 1__st__ – 4:33 A.M. – Mount Elibidis_

"So we're just looking at miles and miles of tunnels here?" Robin asked, her arms spread wide and her hands waving up and down in an attempt to properly gauge the potential quest ahead of her. "And there's these lakes of lava that have giant fireballs rising up from them too?" she added while tossing her hands up and down in a jagged pattern as if she were having a hard time juggling objects that nobody else could see. "Well, that just sounds like a giant Mario Brothers level to me! I wanna see if I can spin jump on the Poodooboos!"

Grodd silenced Stephanie with a look of scorn that clearly said that he had conjured up so many ways to kill the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns that all the neural interference was the only thing keeping her alive. "Well, regardless of someone else's delusions on the matter, I assure you that The Depths of Zalera is an area fraught with peril. For one, the tunnels already lie several miles beneath the surface of the surrounding plains and has been constructed specifically to prevent the flight of sinners who would be better equipped to flee the sources of their supernatural tormentors. Most importantly, however, it is one of the two possible locations of the true owner of The Bane of Velius."

"And we have proof of this?" The Black Dog inquired.

"Just read the earth yourself if you need a second opinion," Terra replied, her challenge caught between flippant and contentious as she matched The Black Dog's smirk with one of her own. "I mean, I'll admit that I don't know as much about this mojo as some of you guys do but somebody like him isn't that hard to find if you can see the world like I can!"

"Yes, but rescuing him will be a far more difficult matter," the British half-demon noted in agreement, his hypothesis drawing a concordant nod from the lanky geokinetic. "I have also managed to confirm the potential behind Zalera in the time since our arrival so I would presume that you are also aware of the second location as well?"

Grodd nodded. "Queklain's Tower," he replied, his tone rooted with the emotional gravitas that the ancient artifact deserved. "As those of you who are familiar with this dimension already know, it is the largest artifact in Neron's domain save from his own, dark palace. However, the focal point of concern that we must address is that the monument is little more than a labyrinthine monstrosity designed specifically to prevent unwanted invaders from becoming too familiar with the territory. In fact, it is said that the upper floors will alter its appearance and construction in order to counteract the very thoughts of any unwanted presence to the point where it would be impossible for those who enter to possibly return."

"Well, that just sounds like a lovely thing to put on your tourist brochures," Roy noted amidst his own slight contingent on the southeastern corner of the chamber. "Man! Hashmalamum, Valera, and now Queklain? Would it kill Neron or whoever named these places to go for something a little simpler?"

"Yeah? Like Detroit." Wally threw in. "Then again, that's already a part of hell, isn't it?" The Flash then quickly added, his lame joke earning him a comradely fist bump from Arsenal that soon dissolved into a round of sniggering.

"There's a history behind those names, guys," Lloyd hastily butted in, his tone holding a degree of patience and good humor that would have been lacking from anyone else who had the answers. "All three of these locations are named in 'honor' of greater demons that were erased from existence before the rest of their kind were shunted away from Earth and the other realms of the living. They were each regarded as creatures who slaked their thirst for power from the confusion they harvested among lesser beings so perhaps it was only natural that Neron would be drawn to them and that he would fill them with tests for both the mind and the spirit."

"How astonishing that one of The Batman's students would have chosen to take the time out to learn more about the history behind the realm that they wish to wage war upon," Jason Blood observed aloud. "And to think that I had diagnosed you lot as nothing but a tribe of rabble-rousers."

"Well, you have to admit that there was a whole lot of refresher material," Robin slyly replied, her toothy grin a sound defense against anything the warlock had to throw her way. "After all, not all of us are ancient enough to live through this kind of stuff. . ."

"Whatever the case of the philosophy here. . ." Lloyd wisely interjected.

Stephanie continued on. "You know how senior citizens get a special discount for a cup of coffee at McDonald's, Jasey? Are you so old that they actually _give _you money when you buy some de-caf?"

"Robin. . ." Lloyd warned.

"Ooh! Ooh! Are you so old that the buzzards around your house ended up dying of exhaustion? And when God said 'Let there be light' were you the one that threw the swit_YOW!_"

"As I was saying," The Black Dog began again after performing his brotherly duties and leaving the back of Stephanie's head in a world of hurt. "Given the info we've got, it seems to me that there's no way we're going to win this battle with a straight-up encounter. Still, given our resources, we could split up and gun for our opponents' vitals an' hope to the baby Jesus that we don't get killed before we get the job done."

Batman let out a thoughtful hum while wrapping the gloved fingers of his right hand around his strong chin. "That would appear to be our best option, for definitive lack of a more appropriate term."

"I would agree as well," Grodd confirmed. "There is hardly any guarantee that any portion of my gathered army will emerge unscathed from the battle to come but perhaps they can buy us enough time for us to win the war. That being said, I have a great deal of experience when it comes to The Depths of Zalera. With everyone's acquiescence, I would like to lead the team that shall journey there." A complaint began to rise and the beast was smart enough to recognize where it was coming from before it even began. "With all due respect, Miss Markov, I believe your. . . unique capacity for widespread obliteration would be better suited for a more uncluttered tableau."

Markov tilted her head to one side in a quizzical manner as the eternal 16-year-old pondered over the words. "Oh, you mean that you think I should be somewhere more out in the open so I can fuck a whole lot more shit up?"

Grodd let out a tired sigh. "Yes, child. My compliments to your talent for reshaping my words into the most vulgar manner you could muster," he replied, his distinction drawing a proud smirk from his irksome lieutenant.

"Well, then I'm throwin' in with Monkey Kong here," Stephanie threw in with her usual careless timbre, her enthusiasm drawing a mixture of intrigued and surprised expressions from those around her. "I mean, if this place is a couple of miles beneath the surface then I'm thinking that you could do with a multifunctional night light like me."

Silence loomed for a moment in the wake of the Green Lantern's self-depreciatory self-description as glances were cast between the others, each of them pondering over the proper move to make in the midst of the swarming questions. Then, to the surprise of a healthy majority of those within the ancient tunnel, The Dark Knight of Gotham City spoke up.

"Cecilia and I shall join you. Our talents and abilities are far more suited for combat in the shadows rather than engaging in open warfare." To his credit, the longtime vigilante looked to his understudy to give her an opportunity to throw in her own input. Remaining neutral in the face of the upraised eyebrows that awaited him, the detective waited patiently as Arrowette quirked her lips to one side before allowing her tongue to slip between her teeth so that the tip could wipe against her upper lip.

"Hey, you'll get no argument from me," the archer finally replied. "Besides, I met my quota for almost dying on this adventure about a two-and-a-half hours ago."

The Flash was next to interject himself, the recent wave of initiative spurring the young father into action. "Okay, so that means we still need a team for this tower maze or whatever it is," The Flash interjected, the recent wave of initiative spurring the young father into action. "And, with no offense to the second banana here, a job like that doesn't really seem suited for a teleporter."

The Black Dog caught Wally's gaze and let out a chuckle. "It's all yours if you want it, West. Never been much for making maps an' something tells me that I'm not gonna find a strategy guide for that thing on the World Wide Web."

"Indeed you won't," Jason Blood added, his dry candor laced with just the thinnest trace of good humor. "However, the fact remains that Queklain's Tower is not merely a physical trial but also one of the mind. In deference to Wallace's impressive talents, perhaps this speed merchant should be accompanied by a mind that is more experienced with mystic trials and deceptions."

Batman and Grodd took a moment to share a thought before turning back to address the wizard's request. "You're certain that Etrigan wouldn't be of more use in the battle against Neron's forces?" the former of the field generals asked. "After all, there's no secret that Etrigan has had more than his share of bad blood when it comes to Neron and that could serve as a useful tool."

The human cage of the aforementioned demon shut his eyes and let out a deep breath, the old man cursing himself for momentarily giving in to the temptation offered by his eternal tormentor. "Or it could be a phenomenal handicap," Blood argued back, his blood-red eyes suddenly looking quite fatigued. "Neron has shown himself capable of manipulating the bonds between Etrigan and myself in times of great stress and that is a matter that I would wish to avoid in these critical times. I believe that a test of my mystic knowledge would be far more appropriate for this than whatever warfare the third team must endure."

Having known the centuries-old wizard for the majority of his own life, The Batman was able to look upon the looming circumstances and dredge up what sympathy he could. "So long as you're sure," the strategist replied, the slow nod from Grodd serving as proof that the other head of the proceedings agreed with his judgment. "And, given your combined talents, I think it would be wise if Kid Devil accompanied you. After all, it's still quite likely that Neron would want to get a hold of his unwilling partner and perhaps your ability of traveling quickly through this dimension would better ensure Bloomberg's safety."

"Hey!" Kid Devil squawked back, the Teen Titan trying his best to look indignant in the threat of a Batglare being potentially thrown his way. "I've been fighting these guys for years now!" Finding his courage, the half-demon stomped forward on his three-toed feet so he could take his turn in the spotlight, his amber eyes glittering with youthful defiance. "I've proven myself on the battlefield time and time again and I'm tired of everybody around here thinking that I constantly need protection!"

* * *

_November 1__st__ – 7:29 A.M. – The Plains of Hashmalamum_

The consuming scent of death and decay was enough to force the remains of Eddie's late dinner (four slices of Thin Crust pizza and ten garlic bread sticks coated with an unhealthy supply of marinara sauce) from his superheated throat. The splotches of the red, yellow, and brown concoction served as a trifle when compared with both the unholy mess left by the Gaia Battlers and the warfare that came both before and after their onslaught, the surrounding air still pungent with the labor of Death's unyielding scythe.

That being said, the emerald-skinned troll that happened to be in Kid Devil's line of fire did not appear to appreciate the irony of the situation at hand. She expressed this discontent by letting out an angry bellow that bulled through Kid Devil's sensitive ears and distracted him further. Standing several feet taller than her struggling adversary, the soldier of Neron needed only to swing her massive right hand at waist level to strike the Teen Titan across the face with bonecrushing force, the power of the punch sending the unwilling servant of Neron spinning to the ground like an out of control top. Death was quick to follow as another mighty blow was delivered but this time it was to the troll herself at the hands of a familiar beastly presence, its orange skin and deep, purple cloak now seemingly bathed in the blood of his many victims.

"_Oh, spawn, your queasy sensibilities doth much find, such humor and jest in Abel's sacrilegious_ _mind," _Etrigan roared, the last vestiges of a throaty laugh still seeping from his grisly chops. _"This carnival, this pleasure is not for a child, so perhaps thine would cater to something more mild?"_

Bloomberg snarled as he jumped back to his feet, his clawed fingers swiping away the spurt of black blood that still clung to his jaw. His dry throat scratched against his skin but the kindly lessons of a valuable friend took the dominating focus in his thoughts as he left his savior behind and took to the sky. The laughter of Etrigan was still managing to ring through his ears but it still wasn't enough to keep Tim's words away from his thoughts as he successfully swerved around the strikes of the first two Emerald Regids that came his way.

_Don't think that you have to fight the battle that they want you to fight. No matter how bad a situation may get, there's always a chance to make the situation your own as long as you're ready to work for it._

A gargantuan, black-scaled dragon was rising up to meet Eddie's ascent, its' massive right forepaw already tensing and poised to rip away his soul from its fleshy prison and deliver it to Neron. Deciding that he wasn't nearly ready enough for such a depressing fate, the former studio mole brought his climb to a sudden stop and allowed the larger, less maneuverable beast to pass him by. The livid screech that poured from the maw of the frustrated dragon bought the half-demon some time and he used it to pour on the speed and get close enough to his larger opponent so that its massive limbs became a handicap rather than an advantage. Easily twisting around the jet of flame that spewed from his adversary's maw, the Teen Titan countered with a far smaller but infinitely more useful bolt of hellfire that had enough force to pierce through the beast's right eyeball. The death roar of his outclassed foe was nearly enough to send Eddie's eardrums to rattling and his stomach to tying itself back in knots but the plummet of his massive target remained to be a satisfying sight, its sheer size allowing for some of the Regids and other flying servants of Neron to be caught in the fall and be taken out with it.

It only took a handful of seconds for Kid Devil to realize that the victory wasn't quite enough. It wasn't enough for either himself or the situation at hand and so he swooped back down until he was only several hundred feet above the ground and ten feet away from the nearest Gaia Battler. Hardly needing to draw the monster's attention, Bloomberg still relished the opportunity to put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud stage whistle before the enormous beast turned to meet him. Gravity began to work against itself as the beast inhaled mightily, the force of the murderous gasp whipping Eddie's long, silver hair against his face as it tried to pull him into a grisly demise. Consequently, this also allowed the explosion of flame that Kid Devil supplied in return to rush that much quicker into the Gaia Battler's throat, the detonation of unholy energy coercing a pained snarl from the monstrosity as it stumbled backwards.

_Step one complete, _thought the troublesome little fiend, his scarlet skin glowing in the wake of embracing the most useful aspects of his inherited power. _Let step two of Operation Pest commence._

Knowing he didn't have enough power to bring down one of the massive Battlers on his own, he waited until the lavender-skinned leviathan was ready to strike again. Thus prepared, he was only caught momentarily unawares when the beast hid its thousands of teeth from view and swiped its semi-trailer sized left hand at him in an attempt to swat him from the sky. Plunging to the Battler's waist to avoid the potential deathblow, the gangly champion then bent his back sharply as he soared upwards again at a trajectory that allowed Bloomberg to rake his claws across his adversary's left eye. He continued to move as he fought off the stench of the blood and gore that covered his right hand as he dodged the angry counterstrike to come, his aerial somersault allowing the Battler's clumsy, back-handed swipe to miss him entirely and instead connect with another Battler that was busy clearing the ground of some of Grodd's troops. An unpleasant cacophony of shock and anger rose up among the confused combatants but the end result of the two Battlers turning to fight one another proved to be a refreshing reward.

"One side, silverhair!" bellowed another friendly presence as it passed Eddie by on its steed of carbon and quartz, the clear lenses of Tara Markov's goggles failing to hide the golden radiance searing from her eyes. "You've set 'em up so I'll knock 'em down."

Bloomberg may have been distracted by the incoming Crimson Regid but that and the fact that he was still a good 50 feet in the air didn't deter him from noticing the concentrated rumbling of the earth below. He managed to slug the fire-spitting demon with a solid left hook before his senses were dominated by the sight of plumes of earth and magma rising rapidly from the once stable ground. Hundreds of tons of terrain shifted and bent to Terra's will as she ensnared several dozen Battlers and thousands of Neron's smaller foot soldiers within her enormous cage.

"All right! Our guys are clear!" Terra managed to yell out while steering away from her clever construction, her nostrils slick with black, dead blood steeped in decay. "Burn the mother fucker down!"

There was no way for Lloyd to physically hear the dead girl's prompting but the figure at his side could and only a thought was needed to broadcast the message back to him. His eyes became little more than a flood of silver as he brought his burning hands forward before bathing the earth mover's work within a blitzkreig of impenetrable destruction that rained down upon the outer perimeter of Neron's immeasurable army. It was enough to annihilate the vast majority of the shock troopers in an instant but many of the Gaia Battlers continued to stay firm until a burst of bright-white energy suffused the lingering display with enough power to burn away whatever remained, the finishing touch so immaculately placed by The Last Daughter of Krypton leaving nothing but a massive, half-mile wide crater where over 7,000 monstrosities and damned souls once stood.

The first and only sign of activity to resonate from the destruction was a blur of gold and scarlet that apparently chose to take advantage of the sudden and decisive breach in Neron's lines. Managing to catch just a trace of the kinetic storm as it moved eastward, Kid Devil continued to look on as The Flash made his way forward at somewhere above the speed of sound where Queklain's Tower loomed only a mere hundred miles away.

_"That's all the time we can give you!" _came the telepathic exclamation that nearly made the half-demon's heart leap into his head. "_Get moving!" _

Bloomberg grew increasingly frantic as he looked up to find the source of the hasty orders. However, while his tawny eyes managed to take in the presence of The Black Dog as he continued to wage war with the Regids and other airborne beasts, he had no way of getting to him. "_Yeah," _his own thoughts began to gripe. "_But what about you?"_

_"Don't worry about us!" _Kara Zor-el snapped back, the quick anger in the young woman bringing a pink flush to Eddie's cheeks. _"Just go!"_

"_Yes, ma'am," _Eddie hurriedly thought back before plummeting back to the ground at a fast but still controlled cadence. Sweeping his sights over this suddenly sparse portion of the theater of war, the half-demon had little trouble recognizing that his path was relatively clear and continued to pour on the speed.

_"A sliver of a pardon I bequeath to thee, yon quick violence and whimsy as thou hast sprung free."_

"WAAAGH!" Eddie managed to get out before nearly crashing into the ground below in the midst of his shock. Frantically, twisting his neck to look to his right, the half-demon found himself not the least bit relieved to discover that Etrigan was soaring alongside him while sporting a hungry grin.

_"No judgment I honor or history perceive, thine future and fortune intertwine with his leave."_

* * *

_November 1st - 4:37 A.M. – Mount Elibidis _

Terra showed her rotted teeth in a wide grin as she moved to crack her knuckles. "All right, well, according to my math, that leaves Harper, Zor-el, the scrumptious British muffin, and yours truly to deal with Neron," the youth declared while her aged bones snapped loudly like fireworks as joints shifted out of place and back again. "Sweeeet! I've always wanted to be a part of the main event."

"Amen for that," Roy agreed, the marksman moving to finish up the quick diagnosis of his new weapon that he had begun upon hearing the news. "No trolling around on the undercard for me this time!"

A deep growl was quick to break into the egotistical merriment. "May I remind the both of you that your job will be to ward off Neron's army until the other two teams are capable of freeing Neron's captive? A direct battle against Neron, even if he does possess The Bane of Velius, would be a gamble that we could barely afford to take even under the most opportune of circumstances. . ."

"Blah, blah, blah. Big words when you could just say no. Blah, blah, blah!" Terra parroted back, the corpse's left wrist waggling back and forth as the connecting hand performed a loose interpretation of The Dark Knight's speaking style. "Damn! At least now I know where Dickie got that from when he'd get all stuffy."

"Yep. That's nature and nurture in action right there," Arsenal observed while sliding the elemental gun back in its assigned holster. "And don't worry too much about it, Dead Girl," he continued to assure while jerking his free thumb over to point towards Kara and Lloyd's relative location. "Those two _always _end up in the thick of things. All we'll have to do is make a last second run-in and a nice, sweet piece of the pay-per-view revenue will be ours for the keeping!"

The Black Dog only looked mildly chagrined as his two future subordinates bumped fists in acknowledgment of their mutual unproductive behavior. "You'd do well to be this distracting when it comes to taking on Neron's army," he informed his soon-to-be subordinates. "Kara and I should be to keep the big guns in check but it will be up to the two of you to keep us away from the sights of the little ones."

"No problemo, mi hermano," Terra confirmed, her choice of wording drawing an annoyed glare from a certain brown-and-orange garbed vigilante.

"_And _we're going to do the best we can to ensure the safety of the members of Grodd's army," stressed Kara, the tension in her voice making a clear claim that she would permit no argument of the point. "Some of you may be more than welcome to accept any sacrifice but I'm telling everyone, right here and now, that I plan on making the shattering of these souls an exception rather than the rule."

Grodd, noticing that the half-Kryptonian had no problem meeting his inquisitive glare on this exchange, allowed a nod of respect to the stubborn behavior. "Do as you will," he replied to his killer. "Just remember that the squad you will be a part of has a responsibility that supersedes your aspiration. It is integral that we retrieve the true owner of The Bane of Velius and the safety of these lost souls strictly remains secondary." The learned animal waited patiently as Kara tilted her gaze towards The Batman and allowed her crystalline blue eyes to ask her silent question. Unsurprised that his shrouded colleague thought much the same as he, Grodd said nothing as the proud woman dealt him a final look of warning before returning to the side of her lover.

"Well, personally, I don't see why you're getting so worked up about it in the first place, Kare Bear," Stephanie announced to Kara's back. "I mean, if Neron's army is as big as the ape says it is than that'll be a big enough problem as it is! And that's not even including the eight remaining generals! I mean, given all the scraps you two have been in, there's bound to be at least one of them who want a go at the target strapped to your back."

* * *

_November 1__st__ – Plains of Hasmalamum – 7:37 A.M._

Kara and Lloyd allowed themselves the briefest of shared looks as a pair of familiar sigils rose across from them just fifty yards away. The eldritch symbols continued to form as the clusters of ground troopers began to pull back and away from any attempt they could make to bring down the two most powerful warriors that currently stood on the battlefield. Likewise, Kara let out a slow breath as the appearance of her foe allowed a helping of painful memories to push themselves to the forefront of her cerebral cortex. She made certain to remember the sight of Scandal's smoldering skin as her eyes took on a tinge of crimson while Lloyd calmly brought the _Mugalshir _to a front guard in preparation for the test to come.

To their credit, Sabbac and Zalbarda were just as composed in return.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Have I managed to get to the comic book store in the last two weeks since the last issue was published? No!

Have I gained access to a monkey with a blonde ponytail that can play an electric guitar without the help of an amp? No!

Have I gotten tired of writing so many words that all I really want to offer up is a preview of the next issue? Yes!

* * *

_Issue #111 Preview_

Well, we're a third of the way through the arc and, well, there hasn't been a lot of action, has there? So, judging on our past experiences, this means that this is a lame duck story that isn't worth your time or energy to read or review or the action is ready to pick it up. Oh, and if The Black Dog versus Zalbarda and Kara versus Sabbac isn't enough to convince you that the latter is true then, well, I really have to wonder why you've been reading this story for so long anyway.

Oh, and isn't there something that we forgot about? I mean, I can't help but think that there's something that one of our swarthy band of heroes should be worried about here. Still, maybe we'll figure it out together along with the giant worms in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Ignoble Gambits. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	111. Ignoble Gambits

Issue #111

Ignoble Gambits

_November 1st - The Depths of Zalera - 8:51 A.M._

Her once broken limb now quickly on its way to a full recovery, Cecilia was beginning to run short on the number of legitimate reasons for her to remain in the darkness and away from the effervescent glow of Stephanie's ring. In addition to the disadvantages of her current position, it would have been a point of wisdom to stay closer to the more imposing members of her squad as they journeyed closer towards the dead core of Neron's realm. After all, she had been there when Grodd had informed everyone that it was an area so dangerous that even the lord of this dark kingdom refused to conduct any of his sinister duties for fear of its natural predators. Thus, even with that knowledge lodged firmly within her active thoughts, the fair-haired archer took stock of the handful of remaining reasons why she should choose to stay well away from her mystically-powered colleague and took them to heart as she remained in the rearguard with the boogeyman to her back.

"You know, I never thought that I'd ever be this comfortable in the dark," she noted aloud, her subdued whisper just loud enough to be heard but soft enough to avoid irritating the recipient of her revelation. "I mean, you're looking at a girl who kept a night light on in her room until she was 10, for cryin' out loud." Arrowette would have liked to think that the rumble that wafted through her ears was the sound of The Batman's laughter but the dull tremors of their subterranean surroundings would have made her look even more deluded if she believed it.

"It's an acquired skill," Batman offered back, the gloved hands of the middle-aged vigilante tensing as he finished scaling over and through another moss-covered ridge. "Having mastered the enterprise, perhaps I should grow more comfortable with the fact that I can never seem to be teamed with anyone that doesn't insist on talking their way through a job."

Cecilia tilted her head around once again, this time to fire back a sardonic smirk that was easily matched by the dour detective. Fighting back her laughter, she almost felt like a high school student trading whispers in the back of the classroom while trying not to get caught by the teacher and the subsequent recognition that she was actually murmuring to said metaphorical teacher probably explained a bit about why the former Olympian had never really adjusted to the rigors of academia. "I guess we all just have to keep adapting, huh?" she asked in reply as a refracted shaft of Stephanie's light caught the furthermost tip of the sai in her right hand. She took a moment to examine the dull glow that lingered against her blade and reflected back into her eyes before the slow scrabbling of Grodd's increasingly familiar footsteps drew her attention, the noise preceding the beast's arrival by a moment before the leader of the resistance against Neron stood before the two calm crime fighters.

"Are you sensing any unusual activity?" Batman asked plainly.

Grodd shook his head back and forth, the former Rogue and Secret Society member looking as if he had been fighting back a rapid torrent of aggravation for some time now.

"I implore you to address that unparalleled, walking nuisance of a Green Lantern. Her behavior is intolerable and ludicrously inappropriate given the gravitas of the situation at hand."

Bruce and Cecilia were quick to recognize the familiar tone and shared a knowing glance, the both of them tabulating just how many times they had taken on such a behavior in regards to the lady in question. Of course, it was impossible for them to come to an accurate count in the time it took for the aforementioned nuisance to close the gap and check to see what was going on. Forced to break themselves from the distraction, the current Dynamic Duo of Gotham City were all but coerced into reacting to the odd smile that lined Stephanie's features, the even mixture of false innocence behind Robin's smirk and the sound of her familiar humming painting a definitive portrait of chaos. Cecilia first tilted her eyes back at Bruce, the younger of the two offering a silent opportunity for Batman to intervene but the forced indifference lingered a bit too long for the archer's liking and she let out an aggravated sigh while turning back to face the most powerful member of their quartet.

"Would you please stop irritating our guide, Stephanie?" Arrowette said in greeting, her words crafted in the manner of a tested teacher wishing that one of their more rambunctious students would simply give it a rest. "After all, Batman and I don't really know where to go here and the idea of being guided around by you is just asking for too much out of either one of us."

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns stared right back at Arrowette before responding to the decently placed recommendations with a theatrical frown. "But Grodd won't let me sing and he just tells me to shut up every time I try to talk to him," Stephanie explained after cutting short her rendition of the Underworld Theme to Super Mario Brother. "How's I'm supposed to get anything useful done if I'm not allowed to make _some _kind of noise?"

Grodd, to his credit, drifted his sights from Cecilia's weary countenance to Stephanie's inquisitive stare and managed to glean a more helpful supply of information than he could have gathered by reaching into the ladies' minds. "As I explained to Miss Brown, it would be prudent to keep our noise levels to a minimum as we descend further into Zalera."

"Oh, what do we have to worry about?" Robin snapped back, the volume behind her inquiry presenting a pristine example of what both Batman and Grodd didn't want to hear. "We haven't run into Guard One during the whole hour-and-a-half that we've been down here and that leads us to three, distinct possibilities." Stephanie raised up the middle three fingers of her right hand as if her comrades needed further clarification before moving to tick them off one by one. "Option One: we're barking up the wrong tree and we should head back to the battlefield post haste. Option Two: whatever is guarding this place is waiting for us to show up so we may as well stop clamming up and start talking about strategy so we don't get caught in a trap or, worst of all, Option Three: the part of Neron's army that we thought we were going to have to take on has already vamoosed back to the plains and that just puts Lloyd's team in even more danger than before so maybe it would be best if we hurried up!"

"Or," Grodd interrupted, the ape offering a single finger in defiance to the strident claim. "Option Four: Neron has foregone the possibility of installing guards within this portion of Zalera in order to allow the job to be handled by this place's natural predators."

The raising of her golden eyebrows seemed to indicate that the possibility had drawn Stephanie's attention. "You mean those Abysmal Worms that you spent five, boring minutes trying to warn us about?"

Grodd remained calm and neutral, the game now fully recognized by all involved. "The _Abyssal_ Worms are beasts that have had millennia worth of opportunities to gorge upon the husks of prisoners that tried and failed to escape Neron's clutches," he calmly replied, his black eyes squinted and tensed as if the beast was already looking for somewhere to hide from the threat he was describing. "They are hunters who know this territory far better than we ever could and that knowledge, when combined with their overwhelming strength, presents a potential predicament that I hope that even you would be able to understand."

"Agreed," The Batman finally concurred, the master strategist supplying a stern look at his raucous charge to make certain that the order stuck. The group was moving forward in seconds, the emerald radiance leaking from Robin's ring leading the way. "How far are we from the source point of the transdimensional disturbance, Robin?"

"About twenty miles, give or take," Stephanie replied without even bothering to look back, her voice several smidges more subdued than before. "You know, I'm all for not getting devoured by giant worms but even you guys have to admit that we haven't seen _any _of the warning signs that Terra was talking about. I mean, there's been a couple tremors but there hasn't even been the slightest sign of a quake or a cave-in. . ." ."."

As one could imagine, there was something to be found in how each member of this motley crew tensed up at nearly the exact, same time. After all, the opportunity of such a closely shared recognition were rare and often noteworthy, particularly when rooted within such a common fallacy that even the four fairly intelligent creatures who experienced it were forced to soak in their dread. Still, given the need for literary license, three of the victims had just enough time to shoot a menacing glare at their remorseful fourth as the dark, cold environs were suddenly racked by a series of tremors that rattled their surroundings and forced some of the smaller stalactites to either splinter or fall to the floor completely.

"Y'know somethin'?" Robin noted. "I'm really hoping that I'll have some time to think about how stupid it was to say that."

The world seemed to shatter around them.

* * *

The war upon the dead, blood-soaked soil of The Plains of Hashmalamum somehow managed to find some minute sense of order as Sabbac and Zalbarda made their presences felt. The handfuls of Grodd's troopers that still ready to fight and were capable of witnessing the sight of the two greater demons were wise enough to obey the silent order to back away, the air of menace exuded by the unnatural forces potent enough to overwhelm the already dismal circumstances around them. Even the most foolhardy of Neron's militia were quick to respond to the call, the sea of damned flesh and bone parting as Kara and Lloyd rushed forward to confront their chosen opposition.

The Black Dog started the gambit by firing a caustic smirk. "Was wonderin' if you'd ever summon the stones to face me, Gregor," he began while bringing his hold on the hilt of the _Mugalshir _to the tip of his left hip. "Guess all your little high-profile providers were too worried 'bout having to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, yeah?"

There was an almost starved glimmer in Sabbac's tawny eyes. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this, boy," the former Russian mobster fired back with a deep snarl of a rejoinder. "You had the advantage of experience in our last encounter but now the hellish flame within me stokes ever stronger while your own feeble flickers struggle to survive."

The bold proclamation seemed to be just on the way to warming up when a scoffing tut cut Sabbac's words short. "And what is this rubbish about you claiming some futile form of reprisal?" asked Zalbarda, the elder of the two demons only displaying a shard of annoyance. "Be content with the satisfaction of scarring the whelp's adopted kin, Shell of Sycophants." Finding himself in a somewhat good mood, the lightning-wreathed demon provided a cool gaze to his outraged colleague. "The Shell of The Condemner is mine to shatter. Unless, of course, you believe you can take that honor away from me by force?"

Lloyd allowed himself a moment to take in the simmering glare of acceptance that quickly manifested on Sabbac's stern visage. Monsters such as Belial and Satan were hardly known for gestures of subservience but centuries upon centuries of knowledge gathered by his demonic source of power and passed down to him allowed the Brit to recognize the meaning behind the dark deference. Indeed, neither Heaven nor Hell could fully comprehend how the demonic essences that housed themselves within Ishmael Gregor were raging at committing to such a dishonor for the sake of their survival.

"_Every second we spend fighting these guys is another second we could use to find Neron or take down more of his army," _Kara reminded her lover through their shared, telepathic link. _"Just try to hold off Zalbarda until I can take care of Sabbac. That way we can work together and take on the bigger threat."_

The Black Dog soaked up the unspoken confidence in Kara's suggestion and reflected it with a smile. "Not really givin' Gregor here a great deal of credit are ya, luv?" he pointed out while bending his knees slightly, the curvature of his joints and the positioning of his saber serving as the finishing touch of a classic stance once adopted by the samurai of the ancient Sadayo Clan.

Zalbarda's expression nearly matched that of his future opponent. "Your paramour speaks wisely, Shell of The Condemner. It would behoove both you and my unfortunate comrade to similarly abandon your egos in order to discover the simple truths lain before your eyes."

Lloyd and Sabbac both rushed forward as the war around them seemed to explode into action at their unspoken signal. The former was the first to break from his chosen path, the half-demon shifting away from the surrounding plane of reality for a fraction of a second before appearing again at Zalbarda's left flank. There was no hesitance in The Black Dog's movements even as a glittering bolt of electricity lashed forward to repel his opening thrust, the persistent advice of his demonic half all but ringing in the man's ears as he continued to work to keep the battle close. It was a tricky bit of business given that the energy circling around the blue-skinned manipulator of man and demon alike almost appeared to be acting on its own and Lloyd grit his teeth as Zalbarda easily drifted backwards, the demon's wise tactics keeping the conjoined wishes of Lloyd and his own beast within from coming true. Dozens of Neron's troopers were either scalded or burned whole in the wash of the energy that blazed around for hundreds of feet in all directions but not a one of those that remained attempted to bring a stop to the goings-on.

All chose to seek a healthier circumstance.

* * *

Speaking of which, the conflict between Kara and Sabbac, while not nearly as aesthetically fascinating as the contest between their colleagues, received a similar degree of caution from those around. Miniscule shockwaves rose from the bone-on-bone impacts as the unwilling freak and the willing beast exchanged a series of Sambo-style strikes that were either blocked completely or anticipated to the point where any successful strike was nothing more than a glancing blow. Kara could feel the bubbling of her skin where Gregor had successfully made contact with his fiery fists but was still confident enough in her own skills to stay close. Snaking around her larger opponent the moment an opening had appeared, she succeeded in momentarily holding her larger opponent by wrapping her right arm wrapped around Sabbac's thick waist with a bone-crushing grip. Drawing encouragement from Gregor's pained grunt, she wasted no movement as she threw him face-first to the ground with a simple Jujitsu-style takedown that carried her own weight down with him and brought her every closer to getting her left arm around Sabbac's neck.

Three quick slams to the gut with his left elbow were enough to convince Sabbac's adversary to roll off of him and away from her advantage. Wisely choosing to employ his previously poor vantage point to his advantage, the demon rapidly gathered his power before letting it out with a stream of hellfire that pounded against Kara's chest. A confident snarl lined the grisly countenance of the greater demon as he extended his large palms and added another pair of flame blasts into the mix that proceeded to sear away the skin on the half-Kryptonian's slender arms. "Loathsome little alien bitch! Did you think that I'd allow you to defeat me with a fighting style created and mastered by my own countrymen?" he roared back as Kara continued to burn. "Did you grow so overconfident while sharing your bed with that half-breed whelp? Did you share a laugh as you relished in my suffering while writhing in the pleasures of your own crimes?"

Her lips may have been scalded and smoldering but Kara had long discovered that she didn't need to speak in order to get a message across. Painfully twisting her body into a tight, clockwise spin, her quick lurch to the right simultaneously saved her from the full-force of Sabbac's anger while also giving her the momentum she needed to push through the unholy force and slam her left fist straight into the demon's gut. It was a mighty response and it was only thanks to the unrelenting strength of her right arm that she had wrapped around Sabbac's back that had kept her opponent from being hurtled away by the ferocious impact. Of course, such mercies were short in duration and Kara proved it by floating over Sabbac's back before delivering an overhead, belly-to-back suplex that sent nearly 100 tons of force crashing down directly onto the demon's thick neck. The earth-trembling collision momentarily left Neron's lieutenant sprawled heels-over-head in the center of a thick crater of crushed earth and scattered dust but Kara was quick to solve that dilemma as well by rising back to her feet and rushing forward to deliver a punt-style kick to the lower spine of her fallen foe. Taking a fraction of a second to cherish the sight of the demon soaring through the air, the daughter of Learna and Zor-el then brought that unexpected trip to an equally unanticipated stop by rushing into the sky and meeting Sabbac's out-of-control frame with a double-ax handle that sent the beast surging back to the ground with a deafening crash.

Sabbac was only just beginning to recover when he discovered that a slim foot was pressed against his Adam's apple. The pressure was slight but concentrated enough to force out a pained gurgle from his throat as he grit his teeth at the dominating presence above him.

"Let's make one thing perfectly clear, Sabbac," Kara began again, her slim lips holding court for an imperious sneer that Gregor couldn't have hoped to match even during his most domineering days within the Lubyanka Criminal Group. "The only reason that you could keep up with me back in Hong Kong was thanks to the power of that stolen sword you received from Neron. Without that. . . well, you're just that same pretender who was flayed into pieces by that half-breed whelp we both dream about oh, so frequently."

Kara's carrying out of her sentence was momentarily put on hold as a particularly foolish Eggworm demon attempted to bury its poison-tipped fangs into the soft spot of muscle on the left side of her neck. Of course, it was only a small matter for the annoyed champion to ensnare the hissing beast by its neck as it wrenched away in response to the pain of its shattered incisors but that distraction was all that Sabbac needed to make good on a desperate escape. Pushing away her foot with both hands, the ungainly shove sent the half-Kryptonian tumbling to the ground along with the writhing, caterpillar-like monster trapped beneath her.

A mere glance collected by the corner of her right eye revealed that the towering general had vanished from sight. Cursing her own pride, Kara took a moment to release her frustrations by crushing the skull of the Eggworm demon into a red-and-purple pulp before rising into the sky. Shutting her eyes tight and removing herself from the hectic hell around her, The Last Daughter of Krypton hastily dove into the supernatural power that had taken seed within what had been passed down to her from her mother and had grown into something a great deal more through the last several years of strict training under the watchful eyes of Batman and the loving guidance of The Black Dog.

_Got you_, Kara proclaimed as she rocketed south-southeast to the spot where Sabbac had chosen to begin his escape. The irritation that had begun to take root upon her first failure to finish the job developed into a spike of self-hatred as Gregor had taken hold of one of Grodd's soldiers, a bedraggled human that had apparently gotten in the way of the devil's path to Roy. A pained scream ripped from her lips as Sabbac let out a feral roar, the demon's merciless hands tearing through the throat of the horrified, damned shell. Her Praxian blood allowed her to feel the shattering of the flawed but still redeemable soul and the lost opportunity left a slight aperture that Kara willingly allowed to scar her bedraggled heart as she tackled Gregor to the ground.

_How easy would it have been for me to have become one of these poor abominations_, Kara couldn't help but think as she began to pound away at Sabbac's defenses. _I'm no less guilty of my crimes as they most likely were of theirs. I've killed without caring for the pain that came with it or the suffering that followed and I relished the control and fear that I received in return._

Another frantic display of strength managed to send Kara flying backwards and away from Sabbac as the demon scrambled back to his feet.

_The only difference is that I was blessed with a chance to make things right when I was still among the living, _Kara noted as she sprang back onto the offensive with a stream of heat vision that matched her adversary's hellfire degree-for-degree. _I won't let this monster steal anyone else's opportunity to find even a fraction of the peace I've been fortunate enough to have._

* * *

Wally had long come to recognize that there were some unique advantages that went with being the lead dog. He could almost feel the spotlight upon him as he veered around the flight paths of a pair of Emerald Regids and he allowed himself some comfort with the opportunity to taking over a responsibility that he felt confident enough about himself to accomplish. A well-timed leap into the air ran alongside the notion of how easy it was to lose sight of the goals and tasks that were handed to you and his shattering of the kneecaps of one of the green-skinned monsters with a precisely-placed, double-footed dropkick coincided nicely with the recognition that your successes could often supersede the possibility of somebody else's failure.

That somewhat egotistical epiphany continued to ring quite nicely through his otherwise turbulent thoughts as his feet landed on solid ground once again and his mind labored to do a little bit of math. Coming to a naturally hasty conclusion, The Fastest Man Alive pushed his body through a quick U-turn before rushing back eastward, his blindingly fast travels quickly steering him towards the blindside of his two slower comrades. His fists were quick to their duties once again as he managed to take down another quartet of the gargoyle-like demons before completing his lap and sprinting his way back to the point position, his velocity so sudden and sharp that the young father was quite certain that neither Etrigan or Jason were aware that anything had changed.

_"Are we enjoying our little escapade, Mister West?"_

The sliver of a beat that he needed to recognize the teasing voice in his head was nearly enough to give him pause. He swerved around the stocky legs of the last Gaia Battler between him and his destination while plotting the next move as best as he could. He refused to be distracted because that would have meant that the whispers on the other end of this neurological line would have gotten to him and there was too much at risk to allow that to happen. It didn't even matter that the tormentor knew what he was thinking and had anticipated his response to the letter. His decision to keep pushing forward without pause was still his decision and he stuck with it.

He still had control.

He could do this.

_"I've run through a lot of Beggar's Canyons in my day," _Wally finally shot back upon making another successful U-Turn and keeping a handful of Emerald Regids from crossing into the paths of his comrades. _"As far as I'm concerned, this is just another day in the park."_

The respectful hum he received in return was something that The Flash felt quite unsure about. It was a justification that he craved but the presence of his wanting seemed to spoil the otherwise satisfying meal.

_"You still have time to change your mind, you know," _the familiar voice wore on, the hooks of the temptation sinking further in. "_You can just take Linda and the kids and return to The Speed Force. You still have the opportunity to raise your family in the safety and security they deserve."_

The Flash went from a pace of 800 miles per hour to just over Mach 2 in three-tenths of a second, the former junior partner of Barry Allen now ensconced within a pulsating cocoon of golden lightning. The display was impressive and its sight was a glory to behold but a whisper of soft pity served as the lone reply.

_"You're still running forward, daddy. That won't get you away from what's waiting on you in Queklain." _The voice did not even bother to hide its mockery and even threw in a soft chuckle as Wally poured on the speed once again. _"Oh, I wish you could feel the anticipation and hatred it has for you, my boy. How it must __**loathe **__you for failing to be strong."_

Wally let out a quick breath as he was greeted by the vast shadow of Queklain's Tower appearing on the edge of the horizon. Of course, only seconds were needed until the monument itself was in sight and The Flash steeled himself to making sure that he wouldn't lose a single step. The edifice to madness was as tall as the grandest skyscrapers in Metropolis but while the architects of those thriving pillars of steel and stone were intending to invite security and strength within their works, the cruel hands behind the structure that seemed to be growing in front of his eyes were clearly searching to inspire and germinate the gloom and hopelessness that seemed to fester through every portion of Hashmalamum. Some of the floors were distended and jutting out in one direction or the other like something out of house of horrors yet the enormous construction itself continued to cast the impression of something damnably stable. Something impossible to bring down. Another heartbeat's worth of time allowed The Flash to get a closer view of his destination and then found that he had to blink his eyes rapidly to confirm that the walls seemed to be alive. Enormous tendrils of green and purple vines seemed to rise up from the earth to ensnare the ebony stone underneathin an unforgiving grip, the thick, sturdy vines festooned with bluish-black pustules that seemed to pulsate at a slow and steady cadence.

As odd as it seems, it was the physical presence of the voice that had been whispering in his head that served as Wally's source of stability from the imposing task in front of him. His green eyes swept over Circe's voluptuous frame with a glare that bore a thin layer of impatience that failed to shelter the malice radiating from the husband, father, and hero.

The witch, as she had frequently done in the centuries before, absorbed the hatred easily and supplied a beguiling smile in return. She turned her palms inward as The Flash finally came to a stop just twenty yards away, the smooth skin and muscle easily sliding along the contours of her luxurious purple gown.

"Come now. Are we this determined to ignore my sage advice?" the enchantress asked, her capricious tone quickly giving way for ridicule and a final, hungry look of forewarning. "There are a great many more important things to care for than your pride, child. Take my advice and turn back before you lose everything."

Wally found himself ready to provide a definitive response to the pointed but persuasive warning. In fact, there seemed to be a nearly countless array of variations that all seemed to clamor for attention within his busy thoughts but the fact remained that the rejoinder to Circe's request quickly became out of his control. There was a quick interruption in the kinetic energy behind him, a sort of blip in and out of his radar that reminded Wally of whenever Lloyd teleported from one place to the other. Feeling the hairs on the back of his head prickle upward in the wake of an enormous gust blowing against his back, the speedster could only register his surprise as a blur of a beast crashed directly into Circe's clutches with such force that both parties were sent tumbling towards the base of the tower. Raucous roars of laughter intermixed with Circe's furious cries for battlefield etiquette as Etrigan and the witch both struggled to determine who would be the first to gain a distinct advantage in the ongoing skirmish.

It was only natural that The Flash would attempt to respond to the unexpected change of circumstances. His efforts were nearly meeting their success when he was interrupted once again, this time by a blistering heat that seemed to fester from the pressure on his right shoulder.

"Come on, man!" Eddie Bloomberg implored, the left hand of the half-demon already retreating from The Flash's back. "Etrigan can handle her! Let's get inside and finish this!"

To his credit, it was only a moment when The Flash drove himself to action. Still, as he raced towards the entrance of the tower with Eddie just a smattering of paces behind, Wally couldn't help but wonder if the portion of himself that he had left at the foot of this fearful place was something that he couldn't afford to lose.

* * *

The Black Dog couldn't be sure why Zalbarda had chosen to take the fight to the sky but that ambiguity wasn't enough to keep him from giving chase. Bursts of black flame continued to shoot from his right hand as he traveled, the displays of eldritch force clashing evenly with the jagged blades of sky-blue lightning that were attempting to get close enough to burn the flesh from his bones. It was a familiar game of act-and-react that Lloyd had played through and won dozens of times before but this certain occasion had the distinction of being hosted by a far more experienced opponent and soon the half-demon found himself hard-pressed to keep pace with the hundreds upon hundreds of deadly vines that rushed to snare him. He only managed to put up the _Mugalshir _in the nick of time to ward off an assortment of attacks that succeeded in breaking through his primary defenses and the eldritch properties of his silver saber were enough to buy him the time he needed to teleport away from the dire state of affairs. Bringing himself to a spot nearly 200 yards away from where he had been before, the breathing room Lloyd had earned with his efforts was slight but necessary as the attacks of his adversary proved to be merciless in their quest to steer back into his path.

Zalbarda chuckled in the face of what he viewed as nothing more than amusing futility. _"This farce runs the risk of losing its point of appeal. Surely you now understand that there is no chance that this chosen labor will yield the harvest you wish to reap?"_

A chant that set the supernatural groundwork for a reflection charm momentarily impeded the arrival of Lloyd's retort. _"Come on, now. Even the silliest action can eventually surprise the best of us," _The Black Dog countered as a pure-white aura exploded around him, the detonation of energy showcasing the success of his latest spell as it began to steer a good percentage of the greater demon's strikes back in the direction of their sender. _"I managed to hold my own the last time we waged a war and now I'm planning on finishing it."_

The greater demon raised his thin eyebrows in the face of his own power streaking back to strike him. _"Be quiet, boy," _he cautioned while waving back the flurry of energy bolts with a simple wave of his hand. _"You are not the half of this wretched amalgamation that I choose to address. My words are for a former colleague who is now once again confronted by the limits of the creatures he chose to cherish and protects. How painful it must have been for you, Za'hafal-nesh. How difficult it must have been to spend eons encased within a silent cage constructed through envy and betrayal only to be rewarded for your duty by being reminded of your errors time and time again."_

The confident sermon was brought to a quick end as Lloyd hastily teleported to Zalbarda's back and attempted to slash through his opponent's spine. The greater demon proved to be a bit too quick to be taken completely unawares but the precise strike was enough to draw a thick stream of blood that readily gushed from the two-inch-deep wound across Zalbarda's lower back.

"_Don't be selling humanity short, Big Blue_," Lloyd cautioned back in response even as an explosion of demonic energy forced him to back away for threat of grievous energy. _"This 'lesser' half may have not been around for the proceedings but I do know that we were the ones who knocked you off your pedestals when the time came to see who was going to be king of the mountain. We 'measly' humans have been ruling the roost for the last 10,000 years while you noble sots have been toiling away in the nether realms."_

Zalbarda was kind enough to offer a conciliatory smirk. _"Your words hold a portion of the truth, little one," _the demon confessed. _"Unfortunately for you and your kind, however, the results of that_ _conflict were determined more by our failures rather than by the successes of our rivals."_

Seeking to provide some evidence for his supposition, Zalbarda summoned a particularly sharp string of lightning that struck The Black Dog along his left wrist. The overall damage was minimal at best and easy to overcome but the specific targeting was enough for Lloyd to momentarily lose his grip on the _Mugalshir _and the flurry that followed left him unable to retrieve it as it coasted down to the mayhem below.

"_Countless battles and honorable wars for control had left my kind diminished and divided while your pathetic rabble of distant ancestors hid and gathered between the wretched fractures of our glorious kingdoms," _Zalbarda continued on while pressing the attack, the dank pools of his eyes glimmering with the thought of a potential advantage. _"But now it is humanity that has grown weak and complacent, your masses made plump by the rich temptation of self-satisfaction. It will be my right to reclaim what has been stolen from our worthy inheritance!"_

The silver tinge that had lined the outermost border of Lloyd's hazel eyes began to expand inward, its luminosity growing stronger as The Black Dog pressed to gain the advantage in the long-range struggle. Hope arose in his chest as he began to meet his opponent's offensive at a steadily quicker pace, the seconds to come making it almost seem that he had gained the advantage.

_"Maybe, maybe not," _Lloyd attested as he hovered forward foot-by-foot. _"However, whatever the truth may be, you know as well as I that there'll always be an exception to the rule. There will always be someone or something willing to take you on and it won't even matter whether they do it because it's the right thing to do or just because they want to defend their own. What'll matter is that there will always be someone willing to take up the banner against a monster like you."_

The next few moments seemed slower than they actually were but that was only thanks to the meaning behind what occurred. Having bought himself some space to maneuver freely, The Black Dog began the telling sequence of events by pitching his body into a steep dive that sent him sailing underneath the ensuing volleys of supernatural energy. Counting on the likelihood that Zalbarda would change his tactics in response, the British half-demon then pulled his body back upward, his travels now little more than a straight path towards his powerful adversary. The storm of blistering energy that awaited him only intensified as he drew closer, the slight hairs on his arms sizzling and dissolving and the flesh beneath it bubbling and convulsing under the pressure of the static heat but Lloyd continued to dive into it before teleporting even further into the pain until he was merely a dozen feet from the source of the maelstrom.

The _Mugalshir_, controlled by his telekinesis, was there to meet him and Lloyd took hold of the gleaming silver saber. Covering the rest of the distance before Zalbarda could so much as blink, the former student of Mao Tenryu plunged the two-foot long blade through the cloth armor covering his opponent's hips and pelvis before slicing his way through the ancient flesh and bone underneath. A mutual howl of agony was composed hastily by the tormented and the tormentor as Lloyd pulled his arms upward with all his strength and allowed physics to take care of the rest as Zalbarda was split from stem to stern. A near-detonation of blood and bile followed the creation of the massive aperture and Lloyd instinctually raised his right arm to shield his eyes and face from the foul stuff.

"I just happen to be the one fortunate enough to be the one in your way," Lloyd casually informed the even halves of Zalbarda as they limply plummeted down to the ground. Exhaustion nearly overcame him as he slid his blood-soaked saber back into the scabbard strapped to his back, his thoughts already torn to the task of wondering what needed to be done next.

_"Perhaps you shouldn't judge yourself so quickly," _Zalbarda replied, the left side of him suddenly manifesting itself in front of Lloyd's eyes while the right side rushed upward to join its other half.

* * *

The thick, purple shell of the Abyssal Worm seemed almost pitch black within the surrounding darkness and the shadow cast by its immense size. Its wide body ornamented with a variety of ridges, rings, warts, and bristles that ran alongside its six lips, the slithering forward motions of the beast easily pushed back the former boundaries of the surrounding cavern and left shards of rock and stone in its wake as it zeroed in on its backpedaling prey. The thick, collagenous cuticle surrounding the monster's epidermis hastily unfurled to reveal thousands upon thousands of sharp teeth that were slathered with the blood, muscle, and bone of its many past victims.

"All right, you've warned us about these creatures during the briefing," Batman reminded his larger colleague. "Now what are its weaknesses?"

Despite not having nearly enough time to safely get away with it, Grodd could not help but tilt his head back and stare at the detective as if he had gone absolutely bonkers.

"Batman, this is a millennial-old mutation of a _Psuedocoelomate Nematode _whose evolutionary progression has been nurtured continuously by the most hellish environments that Neron's domain has to provide!" he shouted back as the beast continued to slink towards them. "What part of that explanation even starts to imply that this monstrosity _has _a weakness to exploit!"

Neither needing nor in the possession of any more time for words, Batman and Grodd quickly dashed towards a narrow corridor to the southwest that hadn't been caved in by the thundering descent of their predator. The former of the prey was quick to resort to the instincts tempered by decades of training, his agile feet and sure hands enabling Batman to clamber over gravelly knolls and slither through the thin gaps left behind by stalagmites and fossilized rock left to linger throughout the eons. There was no opportunity to look behind him and see the ground he was losing to his pursuer but the vicious roar of the Abyssal Worm and the fierce trembles that ran along the ground provided a clear enough tableau as the beast journeyed around and through whatever boundaries the detective could throw at it with a series of deafening crashes. _Boom! Boom! BoomboomboomBOOM!_

Batman was pitched forward with a lurch that left him with barely enough balance to keep from breaking his neck in the consequent tumble to the floor. His senses were momentarily immersed with a flood of pain as his already raw right shoulder briefly skidded against the stone before it and the rest of him came to a stop with the aid of a speleothem of limestone and calcium carbonate. Even with his supply of phenomenal dexterity that could rival even the greatest of Olympian athletes, the vigilante had all but a heartbeat to take in the seemingly all-encompassing maw of the Abyssal Worm as it widened quickly in anticipation for its next morsel of sustenance. What it received instead was a wickedly sharp stalagmite that was thrown quickly enough to punch through the right side of the creature's head-shields until it was finally brought to a stop by the beast's sturdy epidermis and left to lodge between the middle rows of the worm's teeth.

Grodd could feel the bristling of the fine hairs that clustered around the auricles of his ears as the Abyssal Worm reported its suffering with a blood-curdling screech. Realizing that there was no way that his telepathy could possibly grab a hold of the creature's mind and that his desperate throw would only buy his more vulnerable colleague a morsel more of time, the hulking gorilla wisely chose to take a simpler path to attracting attention. Pushing his good manners and tasteful ways aside, he let out strident roar of his own, his robust lungs providing a boisterous challenge that an instinctual beast such as his target would easily understand. Still, despite the advantage of having a slight degree of control over his choice of the battlefield, Grodd could do little more but somersault to his left to avoid the urgent charge of the Abyssal Worm as it moved to feast on his bones instead of The Batman's.

Employing the still relatively narrow confines of the caverns to his advantage, Grodd was quick to his work the moment his feet found stable ground as he turned and hammered his hefty fists against the left side of the worm's head. Every blow was crammed with every hint of power he could put into them and it wasn't long before a litany of bruises were available to complement the shattered teeth on the left side of his opponent's jaws. The partial degree of success soon proved to be too much of a lure, however, as Grodd's gargantuan foe finally recovered and shook its head with a quick lurch that pushed its irritant aside with frightening velocity.

A half-second from being smashed against the eastern wall of the cavern at nearly 100 miles per hour, Grodd wisely chose to break the laws of physics even further and employed his knowledge of personal telekinesis. Concentrating his rapidly-evolved mind to the task of slowing down the velocity of his own out-of-control flight, the longtime outcast of Gorilla City managed to gather greater control of his movement until he could safely clamber against the sparse ledges and protuberances offered by the crooked natural barricade. Quite convinced that he had successfully acquired the monster's attention, Grodd continued to move along the walls towards the more cluttered expanses of the grotto that had not already been destroyed, a path that conveniently also kept his hungry foe from drawing another bead on The Batman. Keeping one eye on his far quicker opponent in order to properly determine how much time he had left to decide, the wise beast used the rest of his senses to take not of his surroundings until he finally managed to find what he was looking for. Once that task was completed, Grodd took a sharp right towards a less-crowded of the battleground before tensing his legs and committing to a powerful leap that sent his frame in front of and then above the Abyssal Worm's dripping chops.

Realizing what little time he had, Grodd's fingers dug deeply into the thick stalactite that he had chosen to be his potential saving grace, the unexpected point of leverage allowing him to be relatively safe as the Abyssal Worm passed by underneath. Continuing to dig at the substantial supports as the cavern continued to shake and tremble, the barely repentant murderer felt a sliver of anticipation as the sharp spike of rock finally began to give way and both he and his makeshift weapon were left to crash down onto the near-apex of the worm's body cavity. The gorilla's body was soon awash with brownish-black gore as the sharp limestone dug further into the creature's back but that disgusting display wasn't nearly enough to dissuade the usually cultured marauder from putting all his strength into the task of making sure that the naturally-crafted spike stayed right where it was, perhaps even sinking in a little bit deeper. The struggle continued as the worm frantically slithered to and fro within the increasingly unstable environs while Grodd clung to its back as if he were a fly holding on desperately to the relative safety of the neck of a bucking bronco.

Unfortunately for Grodd, this particular pilot had a few more options available than most when it came to ridding itself of unwanted passengers. For example, it could choose to make a frantic, upward stretch that sent the aggrieved, blood-soaked portion of its body cavity scraping against the roof of the cavern. Though hardly the most efficient way of seeking immediate relief from its agony, the move did force the perpetrator of it to be crushed against the thinly forgiving crown of the battleground with a ferocious impact that left Grodd stunned and unable to defend himself as he plummeted back to the ground on his neck and the back of his skull. It was a truly messy fall that let his fallen form a far simpler bit of quarry for the irate killer that slithered around to face him.

* * *

Zalbarda had built his legacy upon his talent for taking advantage of another's weaknesses and the greater demon continued to showcase his prowess as he extended his left arm forward to ensnare the neck of Za'hafal-nesh's latest pet. The coalescing scents of magic and blazing flesh ran strong within his dignified snout but the revulsion that came with it was nothing in the face of the demon's desire to keep the boy close to him. Here the child would now be forced to witness the peak of his own abilities granted to him by that abominable human lover. Here the child would see how such a gift would truly amount to nothing in the face of his own eternal pursuits.

"Your destiny was supposed to be simple, boy," Zalbarda informed his captive with a soft hiss even as he identified another possibility of resistance from the corner of his eyes. "There is no doubt that you would have been another simpleton living out his years in futility, another walking, bleating example of what little your kind have had to offer in your brief custody over what will always be ours by divine right."

The knowing smirk was tainted with a hint of tension as Zalbarda wrenched forward his free hand to grab the child's left wrist, the force of his grip wrenching that gleaming silver saber from the human's withering clutch. His authority and superiority now truly without question, Zalbarda took a hint of deceitful triumph as he sent another pulse of demonic energy seething through the veins of his quivering foe. The added influx of pain added fuel to the definitive flame of defiance in the watery, green eyes of this bag of meat and bone and the force of it was enough to give the immortal trickster a moment's pause. Bestowing the human with an honor he had not allowed in centuries, Zalbarda took a moment to observe this feeble struggle against the inevitable tide before finally overcoming his curiosity.

Zalbarda gently increased the might of his grip by an infinitesimal fraction and smirked as the boy's skin turned a sickeningly unhealthy shade of purple. "Perhaps there is a reason why you would cling so closely to this?" asked the demon, the pitiless smoldering of his pupils finally recognizing the move that would bring an end to the pathetic game. "Had you become so starved for hope that this foolish sliver of strength was enough to draw you in so closely? Would even I have become just as famished for what was once ours that I would have done the same?"

The manipulator of the twisted, demonic lightning let go of his beaten victim with a careless shake of his right wrist. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he had the opportunity but the fiend couldn't help but draw an unusual degree of satisfaction as the human completed his 20-foot fall to the ground with a wet _crack_ that forced a feeble groan from the boy's already tortured lungs. His sensitive ears were easily drawn to the wheezing breaths as the greater demon slowly descended to the surface, his wide cloak casting him with the look of a grim reaper that had come to cull the suffering of a fading fool.

"Take heart, Lloyd David Thomas," Zalbarda advised the boy, his opportunity to address the human alone bringing about a vindicated air of satisfaction from his long-deprived ambitions. "No longer will your nights be labored with qualms and uncertainties concerning your worthiness as a champion. No more shall you be plagued with the bothersome fear that your actions are not fully governed by your thoughts and soul alone and there is no further need to question whether you are worthy of the love of your adopted family or the affection of that alien swine."

The demon stooped down in order to lean in close to the rasping wretch of humanity that lay broken at his feet. He pressed the tip of his right ring finger against the boy's chest, the flesh and bone vessel of his vast power suffusing Lloyd with enough energy to keep him alive, if not terribly well.

Zalbarda rose to his feet, the duty done and his thoughts already focused upon something infinitely more important. "I have allowed you an opportunity to see what you truly are. You are no longer The Shell of The Condemner or anything else with the authority to shape your own destiny. You are nothing."

* * *

There was more than enough evidence for Batman to believe that he had something that could draw the attention of the beast. Dashing forward while dipping into one of the many pockets strapped to his utility belt, the detective yelled out a quick warning to Grodd before unloading a small barrage of gray devices that dropped their payload upon striking the ground. The USW grenades were quick to their work, the non-lethal weapons working together to produce a horrific explosion of noise that even managed to challenge the mufflers the detective had installed within his armored cowl for just such an occasion. The rampaging Abyssal Worm was not nearly as fortunate, its hypersensitive hearing doubtlessly honed from years of tracking its prey through the vibrations of the ground around it working against it with quickness as the monstrosity lurched wildly back-and-forth in agony.

"_GIVE ME THE BLADE!" _Batman felt Grodd exclaim with a telepathic roar even as the primate struggled to reach his feet. Though clearly still a bit lightheaded from the messy crashes only moments before, it was clear that his more powerful comrade could smell the blood in the water as well and the urgency to claim it seemed to give the undead leader of ill-fated souls a desire to recover from his delirium as quickly as he could. The thought was a dark one and the ease with which he agreed with the mood was mildly disconcerting but it wasn't enough to keep the detective from tossing his black scimitar straight into the greedy clutches of his colleague. Gritting his teeth in anticipation, The Dark Knight of Gotham City could only look on as Grodd steered himself into the erratic path of the writhing monstrosity.

Batman nearly chastised himself for the note of concern that lingered as Grodd leaped directly into the creature's gaping oral cavity but knowledge quickly took precedence as an enormous gush of blood exploded from the right side of the beast's mouth. The gap widened in height and length as Grodd continued to rip and tear at one of the few soft spots the gargantuan resident of Neron's domain had to offer. The gorilla's intentions then became blatantly obvious as the worm's head-shields exploded from being caved in from within, the abrupt hemorrhaging of the cuticle surrounding the half-dozen lines of teeth severing the front portion of the beast from the colossal bulk behind it.

A handful of bizarrely quiet seconds passed before Grodd emerged from his work, the blood-stained scimitar moving in front of him as it guided the telepath out of his perilous duty. His toil concluded, Grodd lowered himself into a weary crouch and allowed his meaty haunches to support the rest of his massive weight, the beast looking like an expert tracker that had been asked to shear his way through an impossibly dense thicket. Batman rushed forward to support the creature that had saved his life and he had saved in return, the time he needed to deactivate his cowl mufflers preventing him from fully hearing Grodd's pained whispers.

"What were you saying, Grodd?" Batman informed the weary beast, a frayed grunt escaping his lips as he attempted to bear his burden without placing too much pressure on his injured shoulder. "I didn't quite catch it."

Grodd didn't feel any immediate need to respond. It was almost too much to put what little strength he had into bending his right arm and delivering a stiff elbow to Batman's jaw, the force of his awkward strike designed to shoot straight into the detective's skull. It was a move he had perfected several decades ago, a technique designed to incapacitate an opponent's mind and body until he could gain full control of both.

"I was saying that you were too quick to abandon your weapon," Grodd finally replied.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

If it's one thing the last 15 years of being a comic book fan has taught me is that I and the rest of my kind tend to love when times are bad. Take what's been going on for the last six months, for example. . .

Yeah, I'm having a hard time thinking of something too.

And don't get me wrong here. I'm finding relatively few things to worry about when it comes to this particular hobby of mine. BMB's Avengers, while by no means the intriguing matter it was five years ago, is looking like a fine set-up for the "shiny, happy people" theme that Marvel is trying to establish under Disney. Oh, and if Bendis came out with a comic featuring the team of Spider-Man, Ms. Marvel, and The Thing then I would buy eight copies of it every month. Seriously, as one-note as many of this guy's characters could be, these three working together would be a license to print money.

Of course, that's not happening. The whole Return of Bruce Wayne is not happening too. Oh, Bruce is naturally returning from "death" but the story isn't extraordinarily good or bad. It's just. . . meh. . . and I've rarely run into a person who would disagree. It's going to take a while before we can rend judgment on Superman's year of walking around, Brightest Day is not receiving a fraction of the attention bequeathed to 52 and Countdown and both of our chief ships of comic-based entertainment seem to be running a steady if unimpressive course.

And you know what I say?

BORING!

Come on, people! Where are the ludicrously bad stories with the sloppy editing and perversions against continuity! Where are the blatant gaps of logical reason that have dwindled to the point where we are now forced to rely almost fully on Grant Morrison to make us ask what the fuck is going on?

We are the man-eating plant waiting impatiently within The Little Shop of Horrors, DC and Marvel. Please, please be our Seymour.

Oh, yeah, here's a next issue preview. Sorry for sapping away all the suspense from the issue you just read but, damn it, it's my story and I'll bitch if I want to.

* * *

_Issue #112 Preview_

What the hell just happened? Etrigan has gone crazy and has rushed to take on Circe while leaving Eddie and Wally in the lurch, Grodd has betrayed the team, and Lloyd has just been stripped of his connection to The Condemner. And, seeing as we're not even at the halfway point of the arc, there is a distinct possibility that things are going to get worse before they even have a shot at getting better.

Which begs the question: What the hell else can happen?

Find out in two weeks time with the next installment of _The Misfits_: Sing Us A Song. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	112. Sing Us A Song

Issue #112

Sing Us a Song

_November 1__st__ – 9:20 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

The tune that passed through the lips of Rubicante as he surveyed his long-inherited kingdom was merely some remnant of a long forgotten yet eternally graceful melody. Taking a moment to gaze upon the long-dormant volcanoes standing tall over the eastern horizon, the truth teller let out a sweltering breath before returning to the plinth that sternly stood at the center of his work quarters. The stone pedestal had been dubbed everything from a source of unwavering certainty in the midst of uncertain times to a foul machination of assurance that mocked those who had watch their existences fall into nothingness before their very eyes and he was quite certain that each and every definition held some semblance of the truth. However, as he slid one of his long fingers against the dais, his scorching touch searing the rock at his own discretion, the demon felt no emotion, beneficial or harmful, for this forever pliant mass of clay and mystic stone.

And why should he? After all, it was not as if the present could tell him anything that he didn't already know.

There was a brief blaze in the round, red coals of the demon's pupils as his intentions drifted towards the latest source point of cataclysmic upheaval, specifically the battle within Neron's domain that would bring about yet another shift in life's eternal paradigm. Just like the stone that stood at his beck and call, the immortal oracle's psychic reach through the dimensional nexus told him nothing that surprised him. Each player continued to perform their role to perfection and none of them could even hope to muck up the works as their eyes were ever drawn to their shared and ever-present libretto of fate. Neron would bring his own chaos so that order would be retained, Zalbarda would claim what he believed to be his and cement his place as a damned soul who would ultimately earn what he had deserved and all the other players, big and small, would fall behind them with just as much fervor. Even Death itself would serve its purpose, the sharp sickle of limitless strength and skill culling up the fear and foolishness as it wandered into its assigned lot, the inevitability drawing a child of two broken worlds to inch further towards their destiny while the fate of a child of two broken homes would steer one of their kind to their long-deserved redemption.

_And speaking of the leading players_, Rubicante thought as his pointed ears registered the footsteps of a familiar presence. Turning to greet the expected visitor with a cordial nod, the oracle waited patiently for a reciprocal response and allowed his face to break into a smile upon not receiving it.

"I had hoped that recent events did not rob you of your social graces," the oracle finally said in greeting. "Our shared history may be vast but even that should not dupe you into believing that this silence is the proper way for you to begin searching for the answers you seek."

A cold glare was the only tangible response provided by Rubicante's visitor. The creature's steps were long and measured as he moved to stand beside the oracle around the center of the monument, its menacing presence seeming to cast an even darker pall upon the already bleak surroundings.

Still, never being one to completely avoid sound decorum (he considered himself to be a gentleman, after all) Rubicante allowed the standoffishness and simply shrugged his lean, muscular shoulders. "Very well. Perhaps you've already determined the truth," he allowed as his cape of crimson fire swathed and then settled around his body. "What you now seek is confirmation, an opportunity to witness the honesty of inevitability rather than willingly being caught unawares once again."

Allowing some time for his guest to prepare a proper response, Rubicante turned back to the stone pedestal and stretched his right hand so that his nearly skeletal fingers stretched nearly two feet from tip to tip. His view into Neron's domain was reborn at his unspoken command, the greater demon employing his unparalled talents for channeling the ambitions of spirits living or dead in order to examine some of the individual acts upon the enormous battlefield. The first clear presence was the forever defiant Stephanie Brown, the blistering light stemming from the comparatively tiny human roaring out a silent challenge for the Abyssal Worms that moved to surround her. That dire situation was quick to swirl away but was closely followed up by Roy Harper's equally desperate attempts to employ his finely-honed talents to hold back his chosen portion of the unstoppable tempest that had become Neron's massive army. Then there were the restrained thoughts of Bruce Wayne as he was carried to the portion of Zalera that was intended by some to serve as his final resting place, the piercing darkness of Queklain's Tower as Eddie Bloomberg and Wally West continued their rush through the hostile gloom, and the rank fear and irritation of Cecilia King-Jones as she clambered over one outcropping after another, her unrelenting yearning for safety and success guiding her every step.

"Very well then," Rubicante then declared while closing the window shut. "As I once cautioned one of our many mutual colleagues: ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies."

* * *

Kara thought it wise to shut out whatever Sabbac was trying to tell her, the furious warrior seeking her desired degree of noise and violence through her clenched fists as they slammed into whatever unprotected portion of the greater demon she could find. Her determination had cost her a nasty scrape across the back of her neck and the suffering born from a stiff left jab that had smashed the blood vessels surrounding her right eyebrow and prompted the sinew around her ocular membrane until it was little more than an angry blotch of purple but that pain and the past years of guidance allowed her to regain both control of her emotions and the advantage that came with it. She felt every hint of magic within the hellfire permeating within each of Gregor's blows until the Kryptonian half of her was ready to reel back in misery but the proud soul of a Praxian warrior woman allowed her to ride through the pain and respond with some supernatural force of her own. Giving herself some distance with a glancing kick to Sabbac's right shoulder, Kara extended her right palm forward and let loose an explosion of white light that soon fractured into an array of piercing shards of energy that soon attempted to slice through the demon's defenses.

The anguish was evident in Sabbac's tawny eyes as he deflected the small pulses of energy first with his own hellfire and then with his forearms. "Enough of this!" he roared back angrily before teleporting away once again, his injured pride compelling the beast to slide towards Kara's back rather than away from the battle entirely. "I will not be serve as the wailing wall for your hypocrisy, girl!" he exclaimed while bringing Kara down hard to the ground with a vicious haymaker. "You claim anger for failing to save a damned soul yet you are so quick to declare that our own goals are not worth a whit of your attention. You eagerly defend a world riddled with hatred, hopelessness, and strife while decrying my lord's efforts to bring order and stability to something that he had spent countless lifetimes nurturing and bringing into being."

Sabbac relished the scalding of his throat as he released another blistering blast of unholy heat that barreled straight into Kara's already wounded torso. Pleased with his own determination, the demon felt his sharp incisors grinding against each other as his bothersome foe stopped his attack in its tracks by taking it within her own hands.

In response, Kara couldn't help but pause as she looked the evil creation over before turning her attention to the sphere of orange-red heat. A knowing smile graced her thin lips as she rolled the offending bit of magic around her palms as if it were a lump of clay. "Neron got this 'attempt at redemption' through deceit and thievery," she reminded Sabbac before throwing the hellfire back at Sabbac. The minute explosion that rose as the flame harmlessly caressed the demon's chest paled in comparison to the resounding _CRACK _as Kara followed her distraction with a stiff right hook to the chin. "That doesn't strike me as somebody working for the better angels of their. . . nature. . ."

The Last Daughter of Krypton was finally enduring the first splinters of fear she had felt since setting foot in Hashmalamum, the frigid chill suddenly drifting through her bones and draining the color from her cheeks while her mind considered the possibilities. _Our telepathic link has been broken_, she recognized, the absence already stirring the memories of a bawling child begging for mercy from a father who would never grant it.

_I can't feel him anymore_.

A small, more self-judgmental part of her was screaming at how pathetic the notion sounded but the rest of Kara was quickly becoming frantic. Fury began to bubble in the midst of remembering the course reminder she had given to him for choosing to take on such a risk before she chastised herself for being so angry. Her crystalline blue eyes fluttered back and forth throughout the sea of corpses as her struggling senses sought to find another heartbeat besides Roy's, the momentarily blindness prompting Kara to fail to see the amused smirk until it had bloomed to a nasty grin, her doe eyes already on the verge of glistening as Sabbac let out a deep, guttural laugh.

"Oh my. Are we missing something, my dear?" Sabbac asked while rising back to his feet, the notion of heaping suffering upon this foul creature bringing sustenance to the demonic essences within him. "Or would missing some_one _be the better term?"

Sabbac could feel the crackling of his joints even as he slammed his left fist against the adjacent side of his adversary's skull, the revolting pop of bone and sinew smashing against one another combining with his enhanced senses to create a delicious sickness of sound. Watching almost lustily as the troublesome waif tumbled to the dead soil like a ragdoll, he took a moment to rub the flaring cramp out of his metatarsals with his free hand. "A pity that I did not have the opportunity to commit the good deed myself. Of course, I won't allow that missed opportunity to sully a cause for celebration. . ."

The sight of a 140-pound woman bowling over a 750-pound machination of evil could have easily been considered to be a bizarre tableau but even the merest glimpse into Kara's eyes would have told more than any observer needed to know. The windows to the woman's soul did not hold the brilliantly blue sparkle that held sway the first time Lloyd wrapped his arms around her in their shared bed or even the unending rage of crimson that dominated her soul as she willingly followed her father's orders and brought a quick and bloody end to the life of her own mother. In fact, there seemed to be nothing at all in those gaping pools, as if the emotions and thoughts that could be drawn to them were completely taken by the force of her body as she forced Sabbac down onto his back. The skin of her right palm sizzled as she held the beast down with a good portion of her strength while using the rest of it to rain down destruction upon Sabbac's face and chest with sledgehammer-like blows. Blackish-green blood first leaked from the cuts and bruises she had hastily created before erupting in small pools that splattered against her chiseled face and ruined t-shirt.

"You think the little rats rumbling around in your head give you the right to speak to me like that?" Kara seethed through clenched teeth as she jerked the demon upward by the tattered remnants of his tunic. Her fingertips were once again suffused with a blindingly bright light as she began to burn her way through Sabbac's open chest. Her labor of several seconds soon yielded a gore-drenched interpretation of the Kryptonian symbol for life and rebirth upon her unwilling canvas.

"You. . . insignificant. . . worm!" she roared, each of her words punctuated with another ferocious punch whose combined damage left Sabbac to tumble to the ground once again. "I'm the one with the power! You don't even get to _think _that you can take anything from me!"

As one could imagine, the mirth that had lingered upon Sabbac's lips was good and gone as Kara wrapped her strong legs around the demon's torso. A gurgle of bile managed to escape from the demon's lips before The Last Daughter of Krypton sealed that massive throat by cradling the monster's neck with both hands. She continued to hold tight to the peak of Gregor's spine as she took an unforgiving hold of the demon's chin and twisted it sharply to the right. The anguished burbling somehow managed to wind its way through Sabbac's severely broken neck before finally tumbling slowly from the demon's throat. Quickly finding herself unsatisfied, Kara linked her fingers and thumbs above her head in order to smash Sabbac's skull to a pulp but the spray of disintegrating stone that lingered after her attempt provided a quick indication that her designs had been foiled.

_He ran away_, Kara's instincts informed her through the panicked buzzing in her own head. _He's gone. Gonegonegone._

_No! _

Kara took to the air, the manipulations of her vicious past still trying its damndest to keep its grip on her as she streaked towards the core of the raging battlefield.

_I'm not going to fall to pieces again. _

All she needed to do was follow the vibrations of the earth beneath her to find who she was looking for. Locking onto her future destination with ease, her speedy travels brought her almost immediately to the living dead girl at the center of this maelstrom of rock and lava.

_I __**need **__to be better than that._

It took her an extra burst of speed to bulldoze over and through the jagged, stone spikes, the tight circle she steered around the former Teen Titan effectively batting away any of Neron's soldiers that were attempting to slither their way through the haphazard battlements.

"I'm going to find Lloyd!" Kara finally shouted over the din. "Just do your best to hold them off and I promise that I'll make up for it when I get back!"

Her mind was ready to keep moving and her body was only moments behind but Kara had enough time to properly restrain her impulses. Knowing her hypocrisy did need to have some kind of set limit, the most powerful soldier on the battlefield was patient enough to wait through the sputtering that followed before receiving her proper reply.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Terra hollered back, the sharp response plunging its way through Kara's sensitive eardrums. "We're in the middle of a war here!"

The learned but irrational spike of anger threatened to rise up again but Kara managed to batten it down with a quick breath. "Terra, I'll be more harm than help in this frame of mind. Just keep watching over Roy until I get back. I swear to you I won't be long!"

"HEY!" Roy barked back from Terra's right, his vociferous opposition mostly drowned out as his Karbarran energy rifle let loose a cavalcade of razor-sharp icicles that eagerly punched through the brittle joints of a skeleton-like Grochner demon. "Does it look like I need a babysitter here? The BFMG is all I need."

"BFMG?" Kara mumbled back through a dose of heat vision that incinerated a half-dozen Regids that were attempting to soar over Terra's impressive construction work. The display of power was tremendous and something that her younger cousin would have had difficulty matching even on his best day but the daughter of Zor-el was more focused on tuning the hairline nerves within her flared nostrils, her senses looking to pick up the aroma of the aftershave she had bought for her lover on his 22nd birthday.

"Big Fucking Magic Gun!" Terra yelled back with a surprising supply of patience, the clear goggles covering her eyes seemingly glowing in the bright wake of the plume of molten rock she had summoned from nearly a mile beneath the ground. "Fine! Go save your little British boy toy! That'll just leave more for me!"

The sedated senses of the fair-haired geokineticist registered a rush of wind as Kara took off. "Jesus tap dancing Christ!" the usually vulgar young woman exclaimed. "And _she's _supposed to be our best shot at coming out of this alive?"

Too busy to satiate his pride with a shrug of his shoulders, Arsenal focused his eyes on the task of looking for another target. "Yeah, that's our little Girl Scout!" he shouted back. "Swear to God that temper of hers is gonna to get us killed some day."

Roy allowed himself a roguish grin as he casually pressed the red button that adorned the control panel of his pistol.

"But today ain't that day!" he added before letting loose a blistering stream of fire from his rifle that easily roasted a snarling Fyarl to cinders.

* * *

The 210 pounds of dead weight draped across his hulking right shoulder did little to impede Grodd's progress as he continued to dash through the subterranean environs of The Depths of Zalera. There were no longer any significant tremors or worries of the earth nearby to impede the beast's progress and his burly legs were now carrying both he and The Batman at a pace that the unconscious detective could not possibly match. His sharp ears managed to catch a dull echo of an explosion at a far distance to his back, the detonation obviously provided by Robin as she continued to wage war with the mighty guardians of Hashmalamum's fetid nadir.

_A trifle matter_, Grodd recognized upon coming to quick stop at the physical impasse awaiting him just 20 yards away. The next leg of his journey appeared to be rather simple, just a vast tunnel that soon separated into a trio of smaller passageways but his past efforts at reconnaissance had informed the outcast of Gorilla City that it would only be another half-of-a-mile before the prospective paths would multiply and spread out in all directions as if he would be at the center of a spider's web. It was a deceitful trap that had foiled the ambitions of many that had traversed these tunnels before him but Grodd was quite confident that none of these failures had possessed as skilled and agile of a mind as his own. Combining his telepathy with the directions provided to him by his informant, the hulking murderer first made his way through the eastern passageway before carefully traversing through a set sequence of smaller tunnels.

A wave of doubt and desperation momentarily attempted to scale the defenses of Grodd's mind, the dangerous, supernatural presence that served as the signature of Neron's domain providing another measure of defense. The potential for confusion ran rampant but Grodd was able to ease it with a simple glance at his cargo, the dabbles of blood upon the man's cowl bringing more than a hint of satisfaction to the merciless mastermind. The loathing he felt for Bruce Wayne, this inconsequential weakling that was honored with power and prestige far beyond what he deserved or was equipped to manage, proved to be more than enough to keep his mind in focus. His mortal existence had been one of potential prominence, a worthy struggle for ascendance from the trapping of evolution itself and yet this costume-sporting fanatic needed but a word to summon a killer that had brought his noble journey to an end.

Was this so-called investigator of the rational mind so lacking in foresight that he had fooled himself into believing that such a crime would go unpunished? That question remained rooted within the gorilla's thoughts even as the eldritch veil around the physical nucleus of Zalera was lifted. What was once just another meaningless channel digging deeper into the earth had seemingly been transformed into the base of a modest stone citadel of blackened stone columns and a prominent roof of flesh and bone. The grisly architecture was a telling point of the dark intentions of this place and Grodd cast a careful eye at his surroundings while making his way up the narrow steps.

A cavalcade of green tendrils were meandering around some of the foundations of the monument. Intrigued by what could have been considered as a sign of life amidst the ever-present sense of ruin, Grodd followed a handful of the olive-colored wisps until they each began to wither and decay. The sight proved to be a sobering message, perhaps even serving as a warning broadcast by the two figures that awaited him at the top. It was quickly made obvious in the mind of the psychic that the smaller of the two deserved the most caution despite his slight stature and near complete lack of movement save for a clench of the teeth or a slight fidget from one side to the other but it would have been quite foolish for him to simply ignore the more bombastic presence that looked down upon him with unrestrained delight. His bony feet were easily perched upon a flat, stone slab that stood at the front of the makeshift stage and they creaked upward at an unhealthy angle as the host looked to get a closer look at his prize.

"Hey, Monkey Man," Arthur Light greeted while spreading his arms wide. "You know, I was beginning to think that you'd never find your way here."

Grodd continued to stride forward, his body on auto-pilot while his mind generated a wave of telepathic energy that flooded through the neural chains connected to his cerebral cortex. The energy passing through and out of his body, it quickly coalesced into a sightless wave of energy that the telepath easily manipulated into slithering around Batman's defenses. The trick of his powerful mind was a silent but unrelenting message that would keep the human unconscious until he decided otherwise, his clever work ensnaring the raging knight within his own dreams.

"You know as well as I that your instructions would allow me to reach this place," Grodd finally replied, a plain frankness in his measured tones as he lifted his eyes up to meet Light's. Another silent order was cast as Light leapt off the slab, his timely evacuation allowing enough room for Grodd to place Batman upon the cold, flat surface. The gorilla could just make out the sight of Light rubbing his hands together in morbid anticipation as he employed his telekinesis to trap Batman in place, his work leaving Gotham's champion unable to move or escape from whatever there was to come.

"Well, well, well. So here he is." Light considered, the satisfaction of finally seeing his killer face-to-face dulled only slightly by the fact that he couldn't look the piece of trash in the eyes. "The murderer with a conscience," he then added while jabbing his right index finger directly at the dimple along Batman's chin. "You think this rich boy's got any idea how many people down here he's pissed off, Grodd? I mean, just the fact that I've got this opportunity is just pulling the nobility straight out of my ass."

The words held no humility and the malicious smirk on the face of the serial rapist quickly dispelled any notions that his actions were believed to be rooted in any hint of noble virtue. He further exacerbated his true character by summoning a haze of black light from his extended fingertips, the stream of lifeless energy shaping itself into a spectral sledgehammer whose wide handle was eagerly taken into Light's quivering hands. No warning or mercy was offered as Light brought down the cluster of solid light directly onto the midpoint of Batman's right leg, the weight of the weapon and the power behind it splintering the human's femur and snapping the connecting knee joints with a number of wet pops. A desperate groan slithered from Batman's lips in the painful seconds that followed but was soon replaced by a hoarse scream as Light slowly pressed his right knee down onto the collapsed bruise.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," Light whispered hatefully while placing his own fingers to Bruce's lips in a disdainful attempt to calm down his helpless quarry. "Have no fear. The monster's gone, he's on the run, and your daddy's here."

Looking for a little balance, Doctor Light eagerly went to work in destroying the other leg.

* * *

Kara discovered that she had to deploy a great deal of her reserve to keep from rushing to Lloyd as quickly as possible, the reminder that her velocity could do more harm than good prompting her to slow down so that she landed at his feet with all the careful gentility of a swan seeking to rest on an unknown lake. She let a sigh of relief ride through her lungs as she closely examined her lover, her ears relishing the sound of his steady heartbeat and her ears treasuring the ragged breaths that escaped from Lloyd's lungs. A quick sweep with her X-ray vision picked up a trio of broken ribs whose shards were decently enough away from the heart and lungs and a fracture along the back of his skull that, while messy, was something that could be recovered from with the proper time and care.

And that diagnosis, of course, led to the next problem on the ledger. There wasn't the slightest trace of Za'haf-alnesh, The Condemner, and it was the lack of his presence within her lover's body and soul that prevented Lloyd from recovering as quickly as she had come to expect. There was no longer any real way for her to determine whether the departure was willing or otherwise but the more important fact remained that Lloyd was now completely human.

And what did that mean? What should it mean? Of course, it only took a handful of seconds for Kara to recognize that the answers didn't matter and just a sliver of time longer before she placed a tender kiss on Lloyd's forehead. She could feel him stirring at the sudden disturbance and she moved smoothly to gently tilt Lloyd's neck so that the right side of his head could safely rest on her folded legs. Unable to hide the satisfaction she felt from her diligence, Kara rewarded herself by looking down to see the fluttering of Lloyd's thick eyebrows before his slightly bulbous hazel eyes snapped open in mild alarm. His suddenly quickening heartbeat was beating like a bass drum in Kara's ears but she took on her lightest touch as she slid her left hand through the Lloyd's hair, the whorls of her fingertips just inches from brushing the slightly bleeding scar on the back of his head.

"What? Where?"

Kara smiled as Lloyd began to recover his senses. "We're still in Hashmalamum," she unnecessarily explained even as she put the finishing touches on her examination. "You've got a slight concussion and I know you must be hurting like hell but you should be able to get up on your own two feet." The professional in her was certain with her diagnosis but the part that powered her wanted some visual proof of the fact and she slowly pushed Lloyd into a seated position and scrambled to her feet to acquire it. "Here. Let me help you. We don't have a lot of. . ."

The art of administering assistance could be a tricky bit of business. While Kara was certainly strong enough to lift Lloyd to his feet with just a fraction of her own power there remained some ways and means for her prospective cargo to impede the process or even put a stop to it all together. Lloyd proved that on two separate occasions: first through an awkward upward rise that prompted Kara to gently settle him back down for fear of further injuring his torso and then by slapping Kara's hand away as she moved to start up another attempt.

"Time. . ." Kara finished lamely, her lips remaining slightly ajar as she considered the possibilities.

"Leave it be, luv," Lloyd finally replied, his voice too hollow to sound like an order. "The good part of me is gone now. Done and scarpered off from the nasty bits at the first available opportunity."

The frigid chill began to surface once again in Kara's belly. "What. . . what are you talking about?" she asked as steadily as she could, her quick mind already anticipating the reaction to come.

Lloyd interrupted the proceedings with a moist cough as he placed his undersized hands on his knees. "What can I say? I'm no longer the center attraction, pet? No more demon to please the continuous throng and that's the part that everybody pays to see."

Kara's heart lurched at the thought of sweeping her eyes away from her lover but the move was something that had to be done. Taking sight of what she was looking for at the moment, she took to the air at a steady clip and traveled about thirty yards in order to sweep up the _Mugalshir _from where it had apparently been abandoned in the previous scuffle. "You may not be a half-demon but you're still a magician, Lloyd, a magician whose spent the last decade learning from an eons-old demon and you can put that knowledge to good use! Now Neron and Sabbac have been drawing power from The Bane of Velius for months now and you can do the same thing with this," she replied while forcing the hilt of the gleaming, silver saber into the British man's left hand. "Just. . . just do what you taught me to do. . ."

A potentially toxic cornucopia of responses continued to swell on both sides of the proceedings as Lloyd regarded the blade in his hands with a bitter sneer. A bitter scoff was quick to follow but the gesture seemed to take more out of him than it should and the thrice abandoned child seemed to shrivel up within his pity.

"Yes, yes. Ever the tactful thief," he replied, his hazel eyes refusing to meet Kara's. "Blood and power. Life and how to make it. All I've ever gotten was something I just wound up stealin'." The orphan wasted no time in the task of tossing the blade to one side where it unceremoniously clattered against the dead ground. "First The Condemner then Scandal and then you. Me own little crime ring. 'S a wonder the detective didn't catch me sooner."

The sound of her left palm striking against Lloyd's cheek nearly made Kara flinch but the flash of righteous anger overcame the temptation. "Quit your moping," Kara seethed before the righteous angel on her shoulder could convince her otherwise. "Our friends, our _family _are fighting for their lives and some of them have a lot less to work with than you do. We've gone through worst situations than this and we've found a way to win so you don't have an excuse to stop now."

"No! Za'hafal-nesh was the one! _He _was the one that won the day, _pet_," Lloyd snapped back while struggling to reach his feet under his own power. "It was The Condemner that got me through fights where I would have died a dozen times over and it's what the beast had to offer that got me everything I've ever had." His forward steps were deliberately slow, his movements carefully designed to get what he wanted and needed the least. "And, hey, let's be honest, luv. 'S not like this wee little human had the force to draw the pleasure from between your thighs."

The second slap was only a tiny bit harder, at least in terms of Kara's phenomenal power, but it was more than enough to send Lloyd crumbling slowly to the ground. Still slightly disoriented by the nasty fall only minutes before, the time Lloyd needed to clear the metaphorical cobwebs was more than enough for Kara to fetch the _Mugalshir _and drop it back down at his feet. Glancing up to lock horns with his determined deliverer, the former student of Mao Tenryu found himself slightly dismayed that the eyes that met him were an exquisitely clear shade of blue rather than crimson-red.

If anything else, the appearance of the latter would have made for a fine excuse.

"Don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do," Kara began, her voice fairly cold but still laced with enough ache for the words to dig their way straight into Lloyd's heart. "You're hurt. You're scared. You've been betrayed again and now you're worried that, even after everything, you're still just that 7-year-old boy holding his dead mom and trapped into thinking that everything bad that's ever happened to him happened because he didn't do the right thing."

Lloyd wished he could have been stronger when Kara stooped down, a prideful part of him blistering as this exquisite creature felt the need to once again bring herself down to his level. He nearly prayed for the determination to pull away as Kara wrapped her arms around him and simply refused to let go. The strength from that tender grip seemed to wrench the sobs that had built up in his throat and he pressed his forehead against her collar bone, quivering as she forced out the fear that ran through the rest of him until so much of it just faded away.

"You deserve this," Kara whispered with all she had, her fingers shamelessly grazing the cluster of muscles against her lover's back, that spot on his body that she loved to trace over as she watched him sleep. "You deserve this."

The next moment of time was taken up by what most would have considered to be a violent kiss, one of those measures of affection where one or both of the parties are more focused upon staking a claim or declaring some wordless plea than drawing mutual comfort or solace. Lloyd somehow managed to work up some resistance towards the gesture, at least in the early going, as he pulled back upon the initial contact but it hardly took a great deal of convincing for the Brit to try his best to match his lover's enthusiasm. He poured his tired fingers through Kara's short, blonde hair and somehow occupied himself by thinking that he wished it were longer before moving to slide his left hand down her body. He had managed to get just inches from her hips before Kara pulled away on her own volition, the determination in her unrelenting countenance telling Lloyd that it would be wise for him to stop and listen.

"And I deserve someone who isn't afraid to do what needs to be done to defend what's theirs."

Kara rose back to her feet without a hint of trepidation, her strength bringing her back to the skies just slightly above the ground.

"You have no idea how much I want that someone to be you, Lloyd," she added, her voice hoarse as she looked down at her lover below with the eyes that she once thought were strange until Lloyd said that they were beautiful. "So either pick up your sword and join us or find somewhere else to spend your nights."

The Last Daughter of Krypton left it at that and hurtled away, the former freak and current champion astonished that she had let herself go that far. The speed she poured into her travel left Lloyd in a fluster as he felt his eyes slide shut, his body sinking back down to the ground to lay a mile away from everything else the world had to offer.

* * *

The phrase "like a rat in a maze" had occasionally sprung to Wally's mind in the half-hour or so he had spent scaling and venturing through the grim environs of Queklain's Tower. The intimidating exterior architecture he had managed a handful of quick glances of over the course of his dangerous journey over had given him a scant supply of preparation for the twists and turns that awaited him inside and the expedition had become so elaborate and winding that The Flash found himself grateful for even that rudimentary amount of education.

He had never been quite as comfortable with mazes and other such puzzles of the mind as his uncle or the gloomy, shrouded detective Barry had befriended nearly a quarter of a century ago and his choice of enthusiasm over wisdom prompted the former Teen Titan and Justice Leaguer to let out a silent curse. Letting the words and regrets pass through the darkness, the young father silently decided that the display would be the last of its kind this day. He may have detested the idea of taking this task on but if this was what had to be done for him to see his famly again then he would fulfill this tricky feat with everything he could bring to the table.

The determination proved to be a sound defense for the psychological tactics that the gloomy edifice had to offer, specifically the sinister whispers unrelenting in its counsel that he had accepted a quest he could neither complete nor turn away from. Jason Blood had been quite right that whatever misbegotten spirits that infested these quarters were determined to sink their hooks into him.

_You've taken on something that you'll never get through alive._

He vetoed the idea of employing his intangibility to search further through his surroundings, the concern that he would wind his way into something he couldn't get out of holding his thoughts back.

_And what happens when you've gone away? What happens after your flame flickers and dies in the midst of this fruitless struggle? What happens to the man you watch over? The boy you smile over as he sleeps? The girl you would give up your very soul to protect?_

"Overload on the murky much?"

The Flash almost felt his skin leap off of his bones as Kid Devil's more whimsical take on the proceedings drifted into his ears. Risking a look back, the speedster found a bit of a relief in the gamely smile on the younger man's crimson countenance, the sheen of the half-demon's fangs further brightened by the remnants of hell flame that stirred from his throat and pierced through the surrounding darkness.

"I mean, this stuff is _deep_, man," Eddie added, his yellow eyes narrowed with concern while making certain to stay several steps behind his comrade. "It's like whatever's in here is trying to just stick to your brain."

Wally allowed himself a smile. "Yeah, I don't think they were reading from _Martha Stewart Living _when they were working on the feng shui of this place," he quipped back. "Or maybe they did. I mean, a pact with the devil would go a long way into explaining how that lady got a hold of so much dough." The speedster gnashed his teeth upon recognizing the potential inappropriateness of the comment but the light chuckle he received in return set his mind at ease.

"Ah, it's okay," Eddie replied with a wave of his hand. "I mean, hey, I've hung out with Tim Drake for three years now so I'm kinda forced to rely on gallows humor every now and again," he explained, the half-demon's frankness earning the hero with the bargained soul a sympathetic nod. Pleased that he had received such a gesture of respect from one of his long-standing idols, the Teen Titan was encouraged to continue on. "And, hey, that Black Dog guy did say that what we're trying to rescue is my best shot of getting my soul away from Neron's mitts."

"Well, Lloyd is a guy you can trust with a whole lot," Wally answered back. His words were quick and mostly cobbled together as an instinctual response but, as he thought it over, the scarlet-garbed speedster found that he believed in his response more than he realized. "He may screw up every now and again just like the rest of us but there's a reason Roy and I call him 'Boss'."

Now it was Eddie's turn to quirk his head to one side as he thought a peculiar matter over. "Because. . . he knows a lot?" the half-demon ventured.

"Well, yeah," Wally allowed. "And the fact that he could kick our asses. . . And it feeds his teeny, tiny ego. . . And Batman always looks at us with his angry eyes when we try and do the same to him."

Eddie chuckled back, an odd sense of relief sweeping through him upon realizing that he wasn't the only one feeling nervous about whatever was going on. "Well, maybe he could be here to help us with who's waiting for us on the top," he said with a mixture of mild mirth and definite foreboding. "I mean, it is him, isn't it?"

The Flash allowed his momentary silence to provide the reply. "There isn't a doubt in my mind, Eddie." It only took a moment for the festering concern to bubble up until he was forced to turn back at Eddie with an almost desperate glint in his eyes. "And listen. I need you to stick close to me now but if this shit hits the fan, _if it happens_, I need you to get out of here."

"Are you crazy. . ."

"_Listen to me_," The Fastest Man Alive seethed back, his fingertips letting off tendrils of golden lightning as he grasped Kid Devil by the upper halves of his arms. "You've got a job that you need to finish! You helped bring all this down upon us so it's up to you to do what you need to do to stop Neron before it's too late. What's waiting for us at the top of this thing is something that I have to take care of on my own or I'll never be able to look at myself in the mirror."

Despite being both young of age as well as heart, Eddie Bloomberg knew enough about the power of pride to recognize when someone was on the verge of doing something tremendously foolish. And perhaps he was intimidated by the legend of Wally West and what the young father had come to represent. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, there was enough hesitation present in the thoughts of the gray-haired half-blood to convince Eddie to respond with nothing more than a nod before continuing to follow The Flash through the shadowy environs.

* * *

There was no such hesitation in the battle taking place outside of Queklain's doors as more than seventeen millennia worth of expertise in the art of sorcery and warfare clashed together. The plethora of experience served to steer the battle towards a hasty stalemate as Etrigan's superior power and thirst for violence was evenly met by the sharp and decisive actions of Circe's clever and devious mind. Incantations reigning from civilizations long forgotten by history were tossed about as easily as the plumes of lava shot from the live volcanoes merely 50 miles away as the base of the sinister monument grew live and dangerous with the lingering eldritch essences. An Arrashmaharian seeking flame produced by the greater demon was easily repelled off of the firm barrier of a Scarmilgian earth barrier summoned by the immortal siren. Her blood-red eyes still glimmering from the force of her efforts, the enchantress quickly countered with a separation hex concocted by 17th century Puritan warlocks assigned to the task of rooting out the true sources of witchcraft amidst the thinly veiled complaints rooted in carnal or economic frustration. Easily anticipating his opponent's attempt to revert him to his weaker form, Etrigan let out an amused growl before generating a scythe blade of black energy that split Circe's attempt in two before moving on to miss Neron's lieutenant by a matter of inches.

"So fevered your efforts to please thine foul tenant, such splendor, such mischief, such hostility meant," Etrigan said in an oddly musical grumble as the glimmering residue of the previous struggle continued to settle around the battlefield. "Inquiries abound yet one clamors to be sought: Is yon treasures and pleasures so easily bought?"

The demon that had steered the immortal destiny of Jason Blood was well aware that there was little chance that Circe would be thrown from her stratagem by such a blatant bait. On the other hand, there was a great deal of the trickster within the immortal servant of the nether dimensions and the fruitless prodding nevertheless persuaded Etrigan to produce a fearless, toothy smile.

As predicted, Circe merely narrowed her eyes. "So claims this fearsome servant of men," the witch mocked with a casual smirk. "Have you grown so ancient and irrelevant that your mind can no longer remember the last time you were allowed to walk your own path, foul rhymester? Mock me if your malnourished ego requires it but at least I have the capacity to commit to my own wishes."

The brutally hot bolt of hellfire that scattered amongst the strength of Circe's shielding charms provided ample evidence that the witch's attempt had hit closer to the mark.

"Our communal goal festers and glows in truth's flame, a legacy unyielding through deceitful game," Etrigan noted once his scorched throat was recovered enough to allow him to speak aloud. "Such blessings obtained through Neron be unlikely, me thinks the witch perjures within Jehovah's glee."

The grin that framed the enchantress's perfect lips spread by a sliver of a fraction. "So there is some acumen amidst the frenzy," Circe confirmed, the longtime enemy of Themyscira sounding not the least bit surprised. "Then I shall extend to you a counteroffer, demon. My true rescuer from damnation would be greatly interested in acquiring your services."

The theater of war finally began to rumble to a simmer as Etrigan traced the sharp nails of his right hand across his scarred chin. "How poignant the perfidy of women through time, no widow nor bride is innocent of such crime," the demon noted, his long-standing history of obtaining of coercing the imperfect wills of humanity emboldening his claim. "Thine beacon doth pulse with fulfillment of such greed yet reward or bounty shant satiate my need."

"Ah, but was it not the foul snake who brought the pull of false temptation upon Eve, demon?" Circe countered knowingly. "But this is no false inducement, pitied captive of man. You know of my true colleague's history of making the impossible possible and he has proven this skill time and time again. Pledge your services to the true inheritor of humanity and you have my word that you shall be free from your entrapment. You will be free to explore the dark intentions that you have been denied for eleven centuries."

Etrigan was upon his prey in an instant, his brawny right hand quickly making a play for Circe's exquisite throat. His attempt to draw blood from the foul temptress was easily spurned through a Greco-Roman wrist block that preceded a spray of olive-green energy bolts that ticked against the demon's muscular torso. The attacks did nothing to mar Etrigan's physical being but were instead targeted to meet another point of the beast's pride, specifically the seemingly indissoluble bond that forever trapped the monster within the whims of his human half. The seemingly bottomless pools of his eyes widened as he discovered the momentary weakening of the ties, the fraction of a second wherein the demon possessed full reign over his own destiny after so long savored like the richest ambrosia before the effects of the witchcraft faded and the hated status quo was renewed. The demon's eternal rage nearly exploded in the face of Circe's work but the mere possibility was enough to prompt Etrigan into retaining his sensibilities.

"I am listening," the demon calmly replied.

* * *

Arthur Light whistled a merry tune as he completed his most recent bit of work. Leaning back to observe it in all its majesty, the sadist released a knowing smile as his dead eyes regarded the smoldering design that now decorated Bruce Wayne's chest.

"You know, I have to admit that I was pret-ty sore when I found out that your buddies decided to keep me from what I wanted to be," Arthur confided to his tortured human canvas, his right fingertip pressing against the spot of skin above Bruce's sternum that served as the apex of the two-foot, Bat-shaped scar that lingered there. The realization that he had committed such a grisly mockery brought another slow smirk onto his sharply-defined countenance. "And I heard that you sprung to my defense, Brucie, but somebody who's been wronged as much as I have can't help but wonder why anybody else should get to hide who they really are?"

It wasn't until a sliver of smoke began to rise from Batman's chest that Arthur Light chose to lift back his finger. Of course, only a handful of seconds passed before the lieutenant of Neron gave in to his temptation once again as he skittered the fingers of his left hand across the blackened bits of boiled skin and blood. There was no heat within his hands anymore but the pressure upon the barely recovered wounds sent Batman into a series of agonizing spasms, his teeth grinding against each other so tightly that his desiccated gums began to splinter and bleed from the pressure. The display of suffering was so all-encompassing that even Grodd's tremendous will was hard-pressed to keep Batman from escaping his unconscious prison.

"Damn! I'm having fun here!" Light exclaimed with a cackling roar before briefly turning his attention to the other presence in the expansive chamber. "Yo! Special Ed! Want to take a few cracks at this piñata?"

"The wound is eternal. No magic nor bargain shall mollify the brand," Chronos replied, his tone almost making his response sound like a hypnotizing chant even as the deadened expression in Walker Gabriel's round eyes did not waver in the slightest. "Time moves on, ever surging, never ebbing even as light and darkness fade to nothing."

Light let loose with an annoyed and melodramatic groan as he threw his hands up in annoyance. "Don't even know why I bother trying to help," he chastised himself while turning his attention towards his more lucid conspirator. "Well, how about you, Grodd? Anything you want to add to the proceedings before we bring out little friend back to the waking world?"

"I have nothing to say to this," Grodd said coldly, his merciless eyes focused on the fresh, thick scars that blighted The Batman's chest. It was a simple matter for the telepath to remove the controls he had placed on the detective's unconscious thoughts and the waves of pain were relentlessly quick to their work. The gorilla felt a slow smirk rise to his thick lips as Batman's eyes snapped open, the vigilante's mouth forced to let out a pained gasp in the midst of his numerous wounds and cuts and the pain of his shattered bones.

"Uh, uh, uh," Arthur Light began while clamping a firm hand around Batman's mouth. "No eggs and bakey, just wakey wakey," the psychopath said with a smile as he looked down upon his victim with starved longing. "Open your eyes and see what I've done to you, my pretty rich boy without his toys." Perhaps enthralled by the quality of his efforts, the manipulator of light and the denizen of darkness traced his bony fingers across the left side of Bruce's jaw. Deciding he wanted more, the monster leaned down and placed his shriveled lips upon those of his dark companion, his cold, wet slug of a tongue slathering against Batman's teeth even as Light used his currently superior strength to prevent Batman from escaping the loving gesture. A low, appreciative hum rumbled from Light's lips as he pulled away, the pleasure of his folly only multiplying upon discovering that Wayne was somewhere between retching and being paralyzed by his agony.

"You're the first guy I've had to share a moment like that with, Brucie. Well, other than my dear, old dad but that was more of a duty than a privilege," Arthur mumbled while once again sliding his hands down over the fresh scars on Batman's bare chest. "Still, I've got to admit that I'd rather have shared that moment with your little slut of a daughter but, like I said, there's something else that takes precedent." His lithe fingers easily traversed the detective's abdomen and slid around Batman's navel before coming to the waistband of his killer's armored leg wear. "I've had a lot of opportunities taken from me and you're just the first person that I'm going to return the favor to."

A simple shaft of energy burned away Batman's belt and melted the nearby clasps enough for Light to easily peel off the vigilante's pants and underwear. There was an instinctual joke about scarring that the torturer held on the tip of his tongue but Arthur placed the instinct in check as he hovered over his prize.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Grodd, a mote of tension pervading his once unwavering baritone delivery. In response, Arthur Light turned to face the animal with a disturbingly careless smirk.

"What does it look like, Bobo?" the deceased murderer asked back in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm going to roast his dick into a cinder." A pulsating sphere of energy was formed in his left hand as a proof of his intentions, the temperature and heat of the light within it several times more intense than the scalding touch he had employed to permanently disfigured the detective's torso. "I mean, let's face it, this may as well be a gesture of good will at this point 'cause something tells me that Bats won't be too willing to share his bedside with too many ladies after all this body art. . ."

The unappetizing aroma of burned hair and flesh rose through the chamber as Arthur Light's left wrist was broken to the point to where the connecting wrist joints were shredding through the vessels around the nearby metacarpals. The pain was quite distinct and could have been easily avoided but Grodd continued to hold on, the beast's determination and indomitable will seeing him through.

"Geez, I was wondering when you were gonna show your true colors, monkey," Arthur Light said calmly, the agony that should have overcome the energy manipulator apparently next to nonexistent. The madman further proved his lucidity by rendering himself intangible and shaking himself free from the grasp of his betrayer. "Just as well, freak. I was planning on putting you in your place a little later but now is just as good a time as any."

Grodd let a portion of his anger loose, the twitch of his jaw briefly revealing his sharp incisors. "You couldn't possibly grasp how much I would like to bring an end to you," the cultured animal replied in a coarse grumble. "However, I still occasionally consider myself to be a creature of honor and I will allow the claim on you to be carried out."

The surrounding cave walls began to tremble violently, the force of the quaking rivaling the efforts of even the mightiest of Abyssal Worms as Grodd fixed upon Arthur Light's confusion with a knowing smirk. Another pair of voluble rumblings of the earth took place before Light picked up the meaning behind the clue and the monster turned to meet it. He briefly shut his eyes, turned his fetid senses away from the world around him and focused on the light, that brilliant friction of molecules that bubbled from everything but especially from what was coming for him.

"There she is," Light cooed, his tones inching towards the threshold of reverence. "My sweet, beautiful whore."

Robin bulldozed over Doctor Light without the slightest preamble, the green and white lights assimilating into an explosion of chaos which hastily rocketed away further into The Depths of Zalera.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

As I reluctantly celebrate my entry into the 31st year of my life, I can't help but think that I should take a moment to look upon the things I'm happy to have instead of fretting over the things that I either should have or ain't gonna have altogether. For example, I'm happy to have a job that I can occasionally enjoy that allows me to live a life that I'm proud to live, I'm pleased to be sound of both mind and body (although one could argue that the former could be a little skewed with just a peek into the psychology I threw into this puppy), and I'm indebted to having people in my life that are willing to share a portion of their time and themselves with me. Some of these people have been kind enough to read at least a portion of this monster and tell me what they think while others have avoided it like the plague but, however they look at this creative magnum opus of mine, I'm happy that I have the opportunity to tell a portion of my ordinary story through an extraordinary circumstance.

Oh, and I'm also thankful for the first three pages of Batgirl #16. Yes, I know there was no Cassandra and I would still infinitely rather have Steph be Robin but life has taught me to take what good stuff I can get.

* * *

_Next Issue Preview_

The halfway point of _Hell is Other People _has been reached and, well, things are just phenomenally fucked up. Still, that still leaves six issues for things to get better as the fourth novel of this series finally comes to a close and there's some glimmers of possibilities that it might actually happen. Stephanie has finally got a hold of Doctor Light, Eddie and Wally continue to make their way to the top of Queklain's Tower and Kara is ready to take a stand against the dangerous force at the center of this war for the living.

That being said, there's always the possibility that things could even get worse. . .

So what will it be? Find out in the next installment of _The Misfits_: The Faults of Firm Foundations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	113. The Faults of Firm Foundations

Issue #113

The Faults of Firm Foundations

_November 1__st__ – 9:52 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

The effort of maintaining the continuous, jagged loop of golden energy that surrounded his body was proving to be a mild annoyance but The Flash had long realized that the necessity more than made up for the cost. Any opportunity for the slightest bits of natural light to filter through the diminutive cracks of the tower had long since faded and his place at the front of the two-man line had left Wally with a growing desire to rely on something other than the hellfire leaking through Eddie's gullet to light the way. The speedster wasn't quite sure what to think about the irony of how one of his most unnecessary gifts, a parlor trick in all consideration, could be what saved him from the trappings of his foul surroundings and it didn't help that the nasty murmurs and interfering spirits were quick to rain down their own thoughts. The sinister cacophony only intensified the frantic throbbing of his temples that magnified with each step and every salient fact drummed home by his unseen aggressors.

"How come bad guys never need torches?"

Even as he jumped in surprise, the young father couldn't help but think that a healthy dose of confusion might be just what the doctor ordered. "Say what now?" he asked while 100,000 volts of pure kinetic electricity zinged past his eyes.

"Well, Bart said you're an old-school gamer, right?" Kid Devil clarified, the half-demon's tawny eyes briefly glimmering with desperate curiosity. "How come you could never see without a torch in a lot of those dungeons but the enemies could see you just fine? I mean, remember Shadowgate? Did you ever play that?"

The Flash nodded in spite of himself although it was safe to presume, judging from his partner's excited gestures, that he would have gotten the rest of the point even if he had responded with a Batman-like dismissal.

"Like. . . the _instant _your torch goes out the hero just instantly wanders around, falls down, and dies! I mean! Who does that?"

The Flash had to work very hard not to snigger. "It is a sad thing indeed that your adventure ends here," he murmured, his tone so soft in the face of his comrade's more enthusiastic tirade that the young father was pretty confident that he wasn't heard.

"Oh! And Dragon Warrior! I mean, you expect to tell me that this brave, experienced soldier is just not going to notice a gigantic, fire-breathing dragon until it's two feet in front of his face?"

"You had to use your imagination," The Flash offered back in a paternal candor, the red-haired gentleman quite wise to refrain from pointing out a similar argument he had with one Richard Grayson nearly twenty years ago. "And is now really the time to be talking about these things?"

Eddie let out a contemplative hum, the plaintive shrug of the Teen Titan's shoulders a clever testament towards the young man's true character. "Well, it's either that or go bat-shit insane," he answered back, the aura of the blaze in his gullet growing slightly brighter in the midst of his frustration. "I mean, I don't need anyone or anything else pointing out to me how much I've screwed everything up."

"Well, now you've got an opportunity to make up for it," The Flash replied while keeping his eyes forward and searching for any kind of danger. "Just remember. . . the most important thing that comes with something like this is to keep your thoughts calm and clear. You start doubting yourself when somebody else is trying to get in your head than that means you've already lost half the battle. . ."

His senses dulled by the festering manipulations of Queklain's ominous prisoners, The Flash needed an entire picosecond to sense the sudden movement. By then it was too late and Kid Devil had been wrapped within a vile bramble of purplish-black tendrils that seemed to flow from the very walls of the tower itself. The first hasty attempt to free Neron's unwilling servant from the snare had been met with a pulse of sinister energy that seemed to sear through the white-and-golden lightning bolt insignia upon his chest before rushing through his heart.

Images rushed through his head like a sick carousel. He was standing in front of his uncle's grave wondering why he couldn't have done anything to stop it. He tried and failed to bottle up the rage spawned by the still expression of shock and horror forever locked on Bart's face even as his life wasn't finished leaving him. Then it was Linda lying prone on that little side street outside he'd turn into just before getting to the garage, his beautiful wife being ripped apart, body and soul, by the realization that the monster had taken their children from them. Wally sank down to his knees, his teeth clenched and his arms and legs quivering as his mind remained trapped within his own agony.

It took nearly ten seconds of Eddie's banshee-like howls for mercy before Wally could spring back to action, the speed merchant desperately leaping back to his feet and rushing to pull his young compatriot free from the tower's vile intentions. Hundreds of tiny wars were waged as Wally battered away one stream of pitch-black energy after the other, the foul energy within the physical and psychological snare managing to counteract the equally supernatural power that The Flash drew from The Speed Force.

"Eddie, you got to help me out here, kid!" Wally shouted through the trappings while ripping another portion of it away with his nimble fingers. "You can fight this!"

The pathetic wail the beleaguered teenager provided in exchange provided some firm proof against Wally's claim. "Just leave me alone!" Eddie pleaded while a spiraling slither of Queklain's interior began to weave into and through the half-demon nostrils. "I'm sorry for all the bad things I did! I know I don't deserve anyone! Just leave me with that! PLEASE!"

A quick but successful attempt at intangibility saved The Flash from taking a face full of the hellfire that blindly erupted from Kid Devil's mouth. As discouraging as the response may have been, it was enough to give The Fastest Man Alive a relatively sound idea. Remembering Hal and Lloyd's lessons on magic, specifically how even the sternest of eldritch manipulations had to have some kind of physical source point, Wally maintained his unstable molecular makeup as he thrust his hands through the bulk of murkish force that stood between him and his prize. Taking a careful millisecond to ascertain that the burning against his palms was an actual sensory input rather than a phantom instinct, Wally extended his kinetic influence to "pull" his cargo through the fiendish bindings and take him into his arms. Now the scalding of his skin extended from his hands to his forearms and biceps as he sped away from the trap with Kid Devil in tow, the both of them now as solid as either one of them could safely be when accelerating from 5 to 2,000 miles per hour in under a second.

"JesusfuckingChrist!" Kid Devil blurted out just as Wally slowed himself down to a more acceptable velocity, the previous travels coming close to forcing the sound waves back into his throat. "We've got to get to top of this thing!" Hastily clambering away from the arms of his rescuer, Eddie's eyes were soon fixed to the sight of the blackened scuffs along The Flash's wrists. "Oh, hot damn! I'm sorry, man! It's just, y'know, my body temperature is so high that. . ."

"I know. I know!" Wally easily responded, the lightning sparkling around him once again as he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The electricity ran thicker this time, the mystic voltage sparkling with more intensity as the speedster gave a stiff reply to the looming presences around him. "And you're right! There's no telling how long the other teams will last if we don't get our part of the job done so we need to get to the top of this thing now!"

To his credit, it didn't take long at all for Eddie to realize everything Wally was intending to do. Giving a quick nod of approval, the former studio gopher soon found himself being carried once again, this time at a swiftness that forced him to shut his eyes tight just to hold off the vertigo rifling that would have otherwise savaged his senses.

Were he more equipped to do so, Kid Devil would have witnessed The Flash scurrying through the cleverly composed labyrinth at speeds that occasionally approached Mach 3. For lack of time for clarification, it was the greatest speed that Wally knew he could travel while maintaining a fully active sense of where he was. The advantage of maneuverability allowed The Fastest Man Alive to dart into and out of one blind alley after the other, his powerful legs relaying him through the detours and around the traps until he was able to make it to Queklain's peak. Lacking the vast chambers and spiraling dead ends of the lower levels, the single chamber made up for the lack of mystery with being devoid of both sight and sound, a seemingly endless mystery that held no answers.

"Damn, talk about a head trip," Kid Devil declared while stumbling to place his feet on solid ground. "Hold on, Flash. Just give me a second to get my bearings."

A whirl of motion followed by a swift snapping of bones hastily told all parties involved that such a recess would not be allowed. Cursing himself for being momentarily stunted by his fatigue, The Flash surged to his left to put a stop to the chaos and that blind rescue was the only thing that saved Eddie's life. Observing the shallow breathing of his unfortunate comrade, Wally hardly needed Kara's vision or Bruce's medical expertise to realize that every one of the half-demon's bones had been broken, the ruthless gesture an easily conventional atrocity that Wally had long associated with the presence that rose to meet him. His golden lightning flared in the wake of the emotions that came with the familiarity, the storm of kinetic energy a near duplicate of the supernatural tempest that rumbled in front of him.

"Sorry for the familiar trick, old friend," Hunter Zolomon said in greeting, the crimson eyes of Neron's avatar of violence glittering in anticipation of continuing his ordained duty. "Just consider it your punishment for keeping me waiting."

* * *

"Damn it! Why is it, even if I'm dead, I still have to deal with an air headed bitch!" Terra bellowed at the increasingly determined throng while continuing to make the dry, rock-strewn battlefield her playground. "You know, people can say what they want about me but at least I didn't just abandon my post whenever I felt like it!" she continued to loudly proclaim while uprooting a craggy web of stone taken straight from the outermost layers of Zalera itself. Weaving her own kind of magic, the former spy manipulated the stern stone into splitting and cracking like a spider's web to impale a quartet of Regids, the explosion of blood and skin providing a stiff warning to everything else that wanted to take a shot at breaking through her defenses. "_Oh, no, everybody else is dying but my boyfriend is in trouble. You guys just stay here and __**die **__until I come back!" _

Roy didn't bother to hold back his sniggering in the midst of the high-pitched falsetto that, if he could somehow manage to squint his ears, might have held some passing semblance to the more frantic tones of The Last Daughter of Krypton. "Just wait for it," the marksman reminded his comrade with deceptive patience, the rifle in his hand humming as it released a wave of tectonic energy that amplified Terra's impressive work. "Just a few seconds more. . ."

"Oh, don't give me that!" the fair-haired manipulator of the earth yelled back, her eyes glowing an angry shade of yellow from the safe confines of her clear goggles. "You've been saying that for the last three minutes now and _nothing's _happened. Nothing's gonna happen!"

Maybe it was just the several hundred or so corrupted husks serving the whims of a greater demon that he had been prompted to dispatch over the course of the last half-hour or so but even Arsenal couldn't help but feel a bit downcast in the face of that certainty. The hasty bitterness that came with it managed to serve him well, however, as he threw all his strength into a firm but accurate kick to the solar plexus of a Regid that had somehow managed to break through the natural barricades. The rough scales of the gargoyle-like monstrosity failed to give in fully to his weaker flesh and bone but the impact was enough to force the beast back and allow Roy to line up his shot with the Sig Sauer revolver in his left hand. The blast of the high-caliber handgun rang through his ears but the sight of the hunting ammunition passing through his opponent's left eye socket before exploding in an instant and leaving the demon to fall in a bloody heap more than made up for the irritation.

Or perhaps that relief came from the sound of a familiar and furious gale that rose against his back.

"It ain't a bird, it ain't a plane. . ."

Of course, the source of the commotion to follow did not need wings to twist and turn through the rutted-out battleground. In fact, the mere notion of feathers or some kind of engine strapped to the back of this empress of the battlefield prompted Roy to let out a self-amused snort even as Terra twisted her head back and forth at all the chaos with thinly-veiled disbelief.

"Give me another second," Kara requested, the time she needed to get the words out enough to allow the half-Kryptonian to charge up enough solar energy to annihilate the adopted home that she was working so hard to protect. Craning her graceful neck so that her eyes would grace the sky, she released the power through her blazing, crimson eyes in an unrelenting stream of death and annihilation. "All right, what did I miss?"

Despite finding herself bequeathed with some unnecessary time to breathe, Terra suddenly found that she could momentarily do little more than blink. "Um. . . well. . . stuff happened," she then helpfully supplied, the doubtlessly vital information prompting Kara to tilt her head at her in mild amusement. "Your eyes are smoking."

The Last Daughter of Krypton responded with a gentle smile. "Yeah, that can happen," she noted while blinking those aforementioned eyes at a forcibly quick pace, the movement of skin and muscle serving to both vent and fan away the remnants of steam around her pupils. Finding the response to be not entirely sufficient, Kara took to the sky once again, her rapid travels quickly steering her towards the closest Gaia Battler in the vicinity. Steering her way into its line of sight as the immense monstrosity continued to stomp its way through some of Terra's western barricades, she gathered another reservoir of force within her right palm, her anxiety and frustration channeled into a massive wave of eldritch energy that continue to pulse and blaze with blinding intensity until a good portion of the Gaia Battler's upper half had melted away.

"Damn it, Kare Bear! You broke our dead girl!" Roy hollered back as Kara swept back down to the increasingly cramped hub of the increasingly one-sided battle. "You heard her talking about how she was going to try and hook up with Lloyd if he ended up dying, didn't you?"

"HEY!" Terra snapped back, the vivid, golden illumination of her eyes roaring back to a healthy verve along with the rest of the former Teen Titan. "I just said that I was thinking the matter over. _That's all_!_"_

"Well, all that aside," Kara broke in, the half-Praxian warrior quite eager to break up the incoming and unnecessary squabble. "I don't have near enough left in the tank to turn this battle around. I mean, for all I know, we may be the only good guy and gals left standing."

"Yeah, and that means the two of you just need to book it to Neron's palace right fucking now!" Terra roared back over the cacophony of rumbling earth and bestial howls. "And don't give me that shit about not leaving anybody behind, Pollyanna! We knew what we were getting into before you showed up and starting being all noble and there's no guarantee that the other teams can or have gotten the job done so we've got to try and get a hold of The Bane."

Kara's eyes widened just a fraction as she turned to look upon the supplier of the audacious claim. A wave of sympathy past through her as she pierced through the dust and debris and noticed the stiffened trickle of black blood that slipped through Terra's nose and lips. She may have lacked the knowledge to cobble together as precise of an answer as she would have liked but Kara knew that the geokineticist had stretched herself to her limits. The miles upon miles of earthy furrows and ramparts had to have been an effort that was pulled straight from Tara's soul, the one, flickering chance this predator and victim had at being able to determine if she was truly one or the other.

* * *

The certainty in the mindset of Stephanie Brown easily overcame the pain of tearing skin as the back of her head slid harshly against the unforgiving stone. It was a frightfully messy collision brought about as she and Arthur Light continued to plummet down deeper into Zalera, the travels of the two monsters carrying them into areas of Hashmalamum that were avoided by all but the sternest of subterranean creatures. The increasing heat of her surroundings made the muscles in her ears pop and allowed more blood to swim around her eyes and pool against her neck and shoulders, the thick, crusty scent and feel of it against her seared skin sparking some well-entrenched fear within the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns.

Robin relished the potential downfall. She eagerly took that portion of her and mashed it into pulp before flushing it away along with the remnants of dead skin and vital fluids she was already gladly sacrificing to the cause. Arthur Light had hurt her, he had attempted to drive her down into the husk she had spent years digging through with quivering fingers and watery eyes. He had hurt Batman.

_He had hurt Bruce_.

There was no uncertainty here anymore. Arthur Light was going to be nothing more than a fucking bad memory.

The explosion of solid, black light that poured from every decayed molecule of Doctor Light's body presented a stern disagreement to her conviction, the inky darkness harshly forcing Robin back into the jagged rocks only milliseconds after she had brought the battle back to center with a stiff straight punch to the bridge of her opponent's shambled nose. The impact of the punch had left a gory lump of blackened gore and gray matter where Arthur's skull had once been but the rejoinder continued on, unabated, as the slaughterer of Star City poured on the lust. Lust for fear, hunger for flesh, willing or unwilling, to satiate his carnal desires, and the eternal enslavement for acquiring control and comfort that drives us all at one point or another.

_That was what will truly is_, Light wanted to tell his gorily beautiful slattern even as she pushed through his attack. _It's never been about wanting to succeed or overcome_, he insisted while teleporting away from the path of the blindingly fast bull tackle that Stephanie tried to pull the battle back to an even keel. _It's about getting what __**we want**__. Nobody else but us._

Stephanie fingered the outermost portion of her right jawbone where the skin had been stripped away from the force of the latest impact, the hideous sting that danced along her fingertips emboldening her all the more. Gathering her concentration, she set to the task of using her Oan ring to determine where Light had run off to after his narrow escape. The power of a noble guardian and a dastardly beast felt each other out, the two supernatural forces waging their silent warfare through the actions of their imperfect avatars. Only moments were needed to determine that the latter held the advantage and the beast displayed it with glee, its hunger eagerly dining on Stephanie's lingering memories of a father's harsh words and harsher fists, her skin curdling in memory of her old babysitter's more gentle, deceptive grip even as he placed the cruelest conditions within her very core.

She could only shiver as she felt that cold, dead tongue slide into her right ear, the agile muscles dabbing at and drawing the blood that gathered around the innermost portion of her pinna. A strangle gasp escaped from her throat as she felt a bony hand wrap around her stomach, the gesture the final step as Light held her in a repulsively gentle embrace, his bony hips digging into her lower back.

"You know you want it, little one. Why keep trying to fight it?"

Stephanie Brown was a champion. She was a creature selected by fate to serve as a bastion of will. She was a light who would shine upon those yearning for something to guide them through the darkness but yet she couldn't help but let out a whisper of a moan as Arthur Light pressed his lips against the back of her neck. The meaning behind the question, the true conundrum that lingered between the both of them, drew every bit of who she was and stuffed it into her motionless thoughts.

It would never happen. It was too perfect and beautiful and innocent and she was far too full of the opposites for it to ever come true.

Robin felt her heart burning as Light's power blazed through her chest, the ebony blitzkrieg doubtlessly powerful enough to burn her to a cinder if it were not for the natural defenses of her Oan power ring. Instead she was left to fall listlessly as her rib cage struggled to knit itself back together, the blackened crust around her major ventricles seared away by her own metabolism. Another portion of her skull was made open for view as her forehead and nose met the sharp walls of the cavern at nearly 70 miles an hour, the jarring impact setting her limp frame into a tailspin that continued unabated through the seemingly endless physical profundity of Zalera. Seconds that may have well have been minutes passed before her body could finally find solid purchase in the form of a flat, basal plateau that proved firm enough to support the impact of her plummet, the strident landing forcing spurts of blood to escape from her throat and the more diverse scars along her stomach and back.

Arthur Light offered a smile as he sat down to join the girl. The move to straddle her was as simple to him as breathing, the lurid curving of his hips into hers only made that much more delicious by the weak noise of protest uttered by the whore beneath him.

Every bit of her was beneath him now. Just as it should be.

"_LET ME GO!" _came the inevitable shriek and flare of emerald energy that Light had long awaited to feel. His dead eyes rolled to the back of his head as he reveled in the hatred and desperation, the monster swallowing the whole of it with a languid smile.

"Yummy yummy yummy," Light declared while he ran the tip of his sinuous tongue over his frigid lips, his fingers eagerly digging into Stephanie's body armor to caress the swells of her breasts. "I got Steffie in my tummy."

The power Robin put into her next punch was not only enough to carry her fist through Arthur Light's brittle ribcage but also enough to send her grotesque adversary hurling towards the opposite wall. The dull _thud _and revolting _snap_ was both a source of motivation and disgust as she struggled to get back on her feet. Her knees let out an involuntary wobble as the Green Lantern rose back to her full height but her eyes became set in stone as she witnessed the gusher of black blood that sprung from the hole in Light's trachea where his anterior neck flexors used to be.

"I'm not just Arthur Light anymore," clarified the ruthlessly injured monster, a sneer on his rotting teeth as he used his right hand to heft his head back to a general position of where it should have been. He took satisfaction in Stephanie's disgust as the few tendons and joints that remained connected to his skull and brain were soon joined by another mass of dead sinew and tissue that rapidly restored him to as fine of a physical condition as Neron's dark magic could allow.

"I have been chosen by Neron, you little slut. I am now the embodiment of the lust that powers all living creatures." Arthur found himself curious at the sight of Stephanie lowering herself into some kind of martial-arts stance but the interest quickly regressed into laughter that he could barely keep to himself. "But I've been paying special attention to you, sweetie. I'm with you when you go to see that muscle-bound spick so you can take care of that ache between your legs. I'm seeing you when you want to feel bad and you think of your little Boy Scout of an ex and you slip your fingers down where I'm gonna be. I'm rumbling around your heart when you sometimes look at that little British pup and see somethin' that's a little less cute than a big brother."

Neron's avatar of lust felt the intoxicating light explode around his beauty and he smiled, the once-insatiable hunger finding itself slated by inevitability.

"Throw anything you've got at me, sweetie. I can take it."

* * *

"Why must humanity be so comfortable with melodrama?" Grodd couldn't help but ask himself while tabling the urge to throw in a righteous sigh. Tilting his powerfully built neck from one side and then to the other, he wisely employed the distraction provided by Wayne's rambunctious little powerhouse and unleashed a maelstrom of telepathic energy at his catatonic target. Holding no real malice for Neron's avatar of gluttony, the former leader of The Injustice League put a decent amount of work into making certain that Walker Gabriel would crumble without experiencing a great deal of physical or psychological pain. Instead, he merely rerouted Chronos's neural passageways and made him more inclined to believe that now would be a most fortuitous time to sleep. Eliminating the time traveler at this stage of the game would have done more harm than good.

Now with some time pretty much to himself, the scientist in the animal couldn't help but spare a handful of unnecessary seconds to examine the pulsating barrier that Chronos had involuntarily attempted to guard. His eyes briefly shined in the wake of the dull glow of the transdimensional nexus, a contrasting force of nature that served as half of the prison that Neron had constructed to restrain the true holder of The Bane of Velius, before he set his teeth into an angry grimace. Though his interest in the phenomenon was palpable and its purpose clearly known to him, Grodd was well aware that there was scarcely little he could do to interfere with the dark treachery at work in the dank depths of Zalera. That honor, simply put, fell into the hands of a genuine champion.

"A champion who is currently blinded by her will for vengeance and potentially leaving the rest of us to suffer from her idiocy," Grodd noted with a hint of bitterness while booting aside a sizeable mound of rock with his frustration and his powerful right foot. He was quite confident that he could provide more to say on the matter but quickly realized that another matter took precedence. And, if he needed another reminder of this, the steel-tipped arrow that sliced through the outermost portion of his right ear provided it quite nicely.

"Ah, the sensible one," the beast noted with a hint of whimsy before turning to meet his anticipated guest. "Then again, perhaps all the previous displays of impulsivity have simply merged into a cluster of uncontrollable stupidity."

Arrowette paid little heed to the slight whimsy in Grodd's candor as she instinctually placed two more arrows to the string. "You just stay right where you are," the markswoman coolly answered back, the tight twitching of her cheeks the only real sign of how hard she was fighting back her anger. "You're going to tell me what's going on right now, Grodd! Come any closer to Batman him and I'll bring you down. I don't know how I'll do it but I will!"

Another muffled crash rumbled the ground beneath his feet but Grodd was kind enough to keep his focus on his overwhelmed hunter. Impressed by her determination, if not by her ability, the beast offered up his open palms.

"Your quarrel is not entirely with me, human. Or, if you cannot believe me, perhaps you should ask your wounded comrade." The cobbler of many of the events in this present sequence then waited patiently as the girl looked her comrade over from afar, the archer's grip on the string and the positioning of her weapon of choice never wavering throughout the silence.

"Talk to me, Batman," Grodd heard Arrowette calmly request, the fact that she had kept her eyes on him rather than the spoiled detective earning the young human another note of respect. "What's going on here?"

The stand-off continued to remain what it was as Batman struggled to pull himself together, his breath momentarily escaping through anguished gasps as he struggled to lift the upper half of his body. The intense agony was clearly etched all over the man's face as he employed his tough but tired arms to move inch by troublesome inch but the two players who remained standing were stock still as Grodd kept his eyes on Wayne and Arrowette kept his eyes on Grodd.

_Smart girl_, the largest of the trio thought just moments before Bruce's stressful ascent came to a stop.

"Now. . ." Bruce let out another tired huff, his previous efforts still making it difficult to put air back in his lungs. "Now I know why you insisted on having Stephanie work with you."

Grodd rewarded the investigator's sound instincts with a short nod and a slow smile. "It would have been impossible for the three of us to make our way through Zalera without a bit of inside help," the beast explained for Cecilia's sake. "If we were not caught within the supernatural trappings then we would have eventually been overwhelmed by the Abyssal Worms and their quest for sustenance. My false alliance with Arthur Light allowed me the opportunity to overcome both obstacles."

The derisive snort Cecilia provided in response served as the first discernible degree of moment the archer had made in quite some time. "And Batman was supposed to be. . . what? Just a worm on your hook?"

"That's precisely what I was," Batman broke in, the broken vigilante gritting his teeth with the strain of twisting his neck to meet the eyes of his patrol partner. "Neron may not be able control the thoughts of souls who pass willingly into his realm but that doesn't mean that he still can't sift through the contents."

Arrowette looked no less perturbed by the revelation but she was calmed down enough to lower her weapon. "So. . . Neron is able to read our thoughts?" she guessed.

"Only if you are not equipped with the sufficient defenses to keep him away," Grodd replied, his long strides carrying him quickly back to the stone slab where he used his hirsute arms to settle Batman into a more comfortable resting position. "Thankfully for the both of you, Miss Brown and I have more than enough command over our faculties to make certain that our thoughts remain hidden from the intentions of our mutual foe."

"Which is why the two of you kept the plan to yourselves," Arrowette realized while moving forward herself, a dangerous glare in her eyes that didn't flicker until her hands took Grodd's place over the small of Batman's back. "That still doesn't explain the Batman piñata."

Grodd merely shrugged his shoulders. "My yearning for redemption can only stretch so far, young one. Your teacher is the man responsible for carrying out my death sentence, after all." The powerhouse wasn't the least bit surprised when the frank rejoinder was met with an intense glare of hatred from the girl but he allowed Batman to finish the task of restoring his comrade's good reason. "For that matter, it is not as if the detective would have been of any more use to us even if he were hale and hearty."

"Yrehcaert. . . Siht ecalp skeer fo ycnetsisnocni."

The specter of the seemingly nonsensical speech prompted Cecilia to startle. Batman, far too fatigued and injured to offer up anything quite so intense, simply chose the more familiar task of following the noise with his ears and allowed his eyes to steer him towards the blind spot where the noise had surfaced. As for Grodd, the one of this trio more familiar of what was going on and what it may mean, simply tried his best to keep his comrades calm by withholding his own foreboding. The beast then turned around to see Walker Gabriel slowly rising back to his feet, the cloudy glimmer in the eyes of the dead time-traveler making Chronos appear as if he remained in Grodd's thrall.

"Uoy seek ot reflip allotted emit not gnignoleb ot you!" Chronos noted, his voice high-pitched and almost set in a song even as the back of his head was lazily rolling back and forth between his shoulder blades. Perhaps he felt the eyes of The Batman as the vigilante finally twisted his body to meet him directly but the added attention seemed to cause the addled fellow to be struck by some curious notion that prompted the accident of fate to look straight into Batman's uncovered eyes. "You're trying to skip to the end of the story, aren't you?" he asked, his hand fluttering back and forth to wave off a question that wasn't coming to him in the first place. "No worries. No worries. I used to do the same thing when I was your age."

Cecilia had already reset her arrow to the string but Grodd raised his powerful right hand in a silent order for her to stop. "Let's not antagonize Mister Gabriel, shall we?" suggested the hirsute mastermind while taking a meaningful step forward and to the left so that he stood directly in the path between Chronos and the two humans. "I can only begin to guess the horrors that your master has subjected you to. However, you still control the Gaia Battlers and that is something I can no longer permit."

Chronos knew that it would take three-tenths of a second for Grodd to finish creating the bolt of telekinetic energy that the beast would use to disorient him. Conversely, it took twenty seconds for the time-traveler to first slow everything around him down to little more than a relative crawl before moving to assemble his players in a manner that most suited him. That duty done, he allowed time to regain its normal tempo so that Cecilia would endure the full, brutal brunt of Grodd's power. A small, distant, long forgotten part of him wished that he could have heard Batman roaring for the safety of his wounded partner but the tearing down of the roof behind him by the harsh fangs and the stern body of an Abyssal Worm muted the passionate cry. He had seen that the cave-in that followed would leave the wounded girl on her own against a monster that easily eclipsed her in strength and tenacity but it quickly seemed like such a trifle, nothing more than a blip on the radar in the endless horizon that he now willingly traveled.

Grodd's outrage was the next moment that managed to draw his attention. Of course, it was inevitable that the interest would fade quickly, the intrigue lingering for no more than a second in the world itself but at least it remained with him for 358 more. He used the first segment of that time to slowly shamble forward, stoop down and pick up one of the steel-tipped arrows left behind by the archer. Taking another handful of seconds to admire the strength of Grodd's fervor, he spent the rest of his moment stabbing the arrow into any portion of the beast that drew his attention. Two to the left eye, three to the right, five on the left side of the neck and three on the right, dozens around the massive chest and just as many on the stomach and legs. Each slow, methodical stab drew a trickle of blood and an emergence of sinew or bone fragments that marred the arrow's formerly clean surface.

And, before he could even register the change in circumstance, Bruce Wayne found himself at the mercy of a god.

* * *

The blistering heat that had been streaming from his energy rifle was beginning to wane and the sight made Arsenal unleash a burst of profanity that he certainly wouldn't have wanted his daughter to hear (Lord knows that she already knew enough of it as it was). Keeping to heart some of the sagest words delivered down to him by his adopted father, Roy hastily holstered The BMFG while simultaneously digging his left hand into a side scabbard to retrieve a serrated titanium dagger that he employed to parry the angry left hook of a towering Talos demon that tried to strike him down from behind. Decades of short blade training allowed the weapons expert to put the jagged blade to its best use as he slashed back at the offending limb along the ridges of the demon's thick forearm, the tearing of his opponent's stone-like skin buying him enough time to retrieve a wickedly sharp saber he had previously liberated from one of his earlier victims. Then, finally having the distribution of anger and weaponry both on his side, he waited for the slow but powerful beast to lurch forward for another attack before springing to counter, the single father deciding that now was the time that the imposing height differential between his opponent and himself could be used to his advantage.

He leapt forward with as much strength as he could muster, his powerful legs sending him slamming into the broad, smooth back of his eight-foot-tall foe with the curved blade pushed against the back of its neck. Though he may not have had the strength to do what he wanted to do on his own, the combination of the Talos's weight and the added downward momentum mustered by the servant of Neron as it stumbled face-first to the ground allowed Arsenal to push the blade through his adversary's stern skin only a moment after they both fell to the ground. The accomplished hunter had no qualms about being proud of his work as the head of the Talos rolled away from the rest of him and the welcome boost to his ego proved to be quite useful when a tremendous rumble that drew his ears and his eyes to the spectacle of three more Talos demons and another dozen or so of their similarly allied comrades being buried under tons of sharp rubble and parched soil.

"Fuckin' little nuisances! Quit wasting my fucking time!" he heard Terra snarl out. "Okay, I'm sick of waiting on that little blonde trollop to do it. I'm takin' down that Battler to the north. Just hold tight until I get back!"

"No problemo. I'll keep everything under control here!" Roy hollered back, his words failing to be delivered to Grodd's lieutenant in the wake of her noisy exit. Taking a moment to see that the surprisingly helpful comrade had gotten away safely with the aid of her levitating mound of telekinetically crafted earth, his sharp ears brought him back to the raucous warfare by picking up a guttural roar. Turning to meet it, he found himself a mere five feet away from a hulk of a monster with massively thick arms and legs the width of telephone poles. The tank-like beast was so overtly muscular that it provided an easy but effective distraction away from its speed as it closed the gap between them in a heartbeat.

Knowing he didn't have the time to safely move aside, Roy relied on his instincts and sliced his saber deeply into the beast's sizeable gut. However, the spray of blood and bile seemingly did nothing more useful than provide some nasty stains to mark his battle armor as the beast fought through the pain and plucked him up by the head with its right hand with the same ease that Arsenal would have used to snatch up a baseball off the ground. He dropped his dagger in a flash and reached for the Colt .45 lodged in the scabbard closest to his hand and fired off three shots to the beast's face but that only prompted the monster to grumble in aggravation, its fetid breath managing to sneak through Roy's nostrils despite the vice-like grip upon his skull. His temples were bulging as blood tried and failed to reach their proper avenues even after a flash of silver rushed before his blurred vision and severed the offending arm nearly at the shoulder. The disorientation was enough to make him fall on his ass on the way back down but the red-haired marksman found that he could settle himself by staring at the helping hand offering to help him back up.

"Just tell me something," Arsenal began before emptying the rest of the Colt's magazine into the snout of a nearby Emerald Regid. "Would you have come back so quick if Kara said that you could make out with me instead of her?"

Still waiting for his lungs to catch up with the rest of him, The Black Dog couldn't quite muster a reply as he sprung forward in a twisting somersault with the _Mugalshir _at the forefront. The force and angle of his leap allowed him to build up enough momentum to force the gleaming silver saber into and through the tank's broad hips and slicing his selected opponent in two. Finding himself a bit knackered from the effort, Lloyd trusted the veteran sharpshooter to watch his back and was rewarded with his faith when Roy hurled his recovered dagger into the throat of another Emerald Regid that was looking to sink its claws into his back. Summoning a simple gust of wind to send the bleeding demon away, the former half-demon took a moment to settle himself as he and Roy went back-to-back against the escalating throng.

"The Condemner and I aren't linked any more, mate. I'm holdin' myself with the mystic equivalent of stitches and duct tape 'ere!" Lloyd yelled over the surrounding growls and snarls as more and more of Neron's troops scaled over Terra's creative battlements. "Gonna need you to watch after me wee self, a'right?"

"You got it, boss!" Roy replied over the warm hum of the barrier that Lloyd had manufactured with what little remained of his own eldritch reserves. "Ain't like we need shit else anyway! We're an army of two, boss!"

"Cor, that game was poofy," Lloyd volleyed back, his eyes catching the increasingly familiar sight of the Karbarran energy rifle that prompted him to lower the protection charm before it weighed too much on his psyche. "Can't we be somethin' more manly? Like those blokes from River City Ransom?"

"Eh, I preferred the 6-player X-Men game myself," Roy answered back while shifting to his left, a move that allowed Lloyd to slide to the right and take on the charging Fyarl demon while allowing him to take the time out to press the green button on The BMFG. "Always was a big fan of Storm, especially now since I can make my own tornadoes."

Arsenal continued to express his glee as he employed the recharged energy cartridge of his Karbarran energy rifle to summon a powerful tempest that blew back a quartet of Regids that were attempting to soar in above the barricades. Alerting each other of the enemy's movements with a shout of "left" or "right", he and Lloyd continued to hold their own against the clusters of Neron's forces that Terra had involuntarily left behind on her quest to take down the Gaia Battler. The opponents that were either too quick or too bulky to be thwarted by the enduring gusts were met by an unbreakable blade and its experienced wielder while the calamitous tempests thinned the herds enough so that they wouldn't be overwhelmed, the two colleagues easily finding a comfortable medium in the midst of the rampaging instability.

"Oh, hell yeah!" Arsenal couldn't help but crow as they began to push back a sizeable portion of their opponent's seemingly unending forces. "This is like some shit out of 300!"

Lloyd dismissed the notion with a noisy _pffft_. "Just another brand of nancies runnin' about with no clothes on, s'far as I'm concerned," The Black Dog proclaimed as a familiar rush of wind brought a smile to his face. "Hey, look. Our ride's here."

Roy was almost ready to ask what his boss had meant by that but soon found his question answered as he was hefted away from his inevitable death and into the skies above. Though he had been taught to never look a gift horse in the mouth, or gift reward as the case may be, the feeling of being carried almost entirely by the back of his shirt had quickly left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Damn it, you two! Do I really need any more reasons to lose my lunch here?"

Neither Kara or Lloyd were either interested or equipped to respond to the question at hand. The former was already encumbered with the task of carrying Roy with her right hand while cradling her lover with her left arm while the latter was quite busy with eagerly pressing his lips against Kara's. Bringing an enthusiasm and expertise that was all his own, the second-in-command of The Misfits slipped his tongue through the meager defenses of his rescuer while his hands busied themselves with gliding across short, blonde hair and skin stained with blood and sweat but still smooth in certain spots that he had made an effort to find many months ago.

"Hey, sweetie!" Kara said with a cheery chirp, her toothy smile instantly infectious to her previously petulant paramour.

"Evenin', luv," Lloyd replied with equally good cheer before setting his tired face into a frown. "Sorry for being late."

Kara shook her head to and fro, a gesture easily managed now that the nearest Regid or Gaia Battler was more than a mile-and-a-half away. "Don't be. You ready for this?"

Lloyd quirked his lips to one side and let out a shaky pant. "Never tried this under these kinds of circumstances," he said as a reminder. "I mean, don't get me wrong here. It's not like I don't want to give it a shot. . ."

"Woah! Woah! Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah!" Roy squawked back from his disadvantageous perspective. "Hey! Meager human here who doesn't feel like incinerating!"

"Oh, fine, ya big baby," Kara said in acknowledgment of her squirming cargo while rolling her clear, blue eyes. "Time for own little Wheezy to go on an airplane ride!"

Arsenal couldn't help but screw his face up in confusion. "Wheezy? Airplane ride?" His own olive-shaded eyes bugged out to near-comical proportions as he finally managed to put two-and-two together. "Oh, holy !"

That was all Roy Harper could manage to get out before being hurled higher into the sky, the strength of Kara's arms leaving the two remaining Misfits with more than enough room to take care of business. Their eyes met, the both of them sharing a chuckle that served as not only a reaction but also a way to soothe the nerves in preparation for what was to come. It was a gesture of mutual confidence, an emotional stanchion that carried them forward as Kara interlocked the fingers of her right hand with Lloyd's left.

A shared breath.

"_Qua illic est infirmitas una permissum lamino reperio suum vires in iunctum. Duos animes es unus. Duos es unus." _

* * *

"Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide," Cecilia told herself while sliding to a stop at another dead-end, the archer surprising herself with the impressive degree of gallows humor. "Big ass worm wants to eat my thigh."

Yet another explosion of gravel and stone rose up 20 feet behind her as the Abyssal Worm hurtled down at her from above, the blind beast guided by its aggravation and a craving for the rare commodity that was live flesh. Quickly sliding her blood-drenched sais back in their assigned scabbards, Cecilia dashed back down the corridor in order to use her opponent's own momentum against it by diving under the creature's maw with only a handful of feet to spare. Retrieving her bow from the compartment strapped to her quiver, she managed to fire off three shots before her target could burrow safely under the ground. The first and second shots landed just below the target but the third arrow managed to find a home in the thick puncture beneath the right side of the creature's jaw that she had created with her sais before making her first escape from her far larger foe. The damage of the shot alone would have been minimal but the combined body of work was enough to wound the Abyssal Worm to force out a stomach-curdling yell from its powerful lungs before the bellow was mostly silenced as the natural predator accidentally slammed its head into the flat floor rather than allowing its fangs to safely dig through.

Cissie was on her feet with a flash even as another arrow was already winging its way to its momentarily still target. The force of the C-4 exploding against the surrounding roof rattled her eardrums but it wasn't enough to keep her from putting another arrow to the string and letting it fly. The sound and sight of her far larger opponent thrashing and howling in the cacophony of the sonic arrow was nearly enough to draw a smile onto the face of the daughter of Oliver Queen but the simple fact was that her thoughts were elsewhere.

_If you can go down then that means you can go back up_. _That monster had to have come from somewhere above here and that gives me an opportunity to get out. _Her eyes frantically searched for what she needed to find even as her hands were busy launching her remaining sonic arrows, one at a time, at intervals wide enough to keep her adversary mired in its own suffering. She found it ten seconds and three arrows later, her sights homing in on the gap in the roof where the monster had previously emerged. There may have been no way for her to know how far the vertical cavern went or how many twists and turns the makeshift pathway contained but the archer knew enough to recognize that it would eventually lead back to the dimensional nexus, perhaps even back to a place where she would safely swerve around the cave-in that now had her trapped with the beast to begin with.

She could get back to Bruce and Stephanie. She could get back to safety.

All she needed to do to get to it was just getting rid of a beast that had possibly dined on the souls of greater demons.

_Well, at least it sounds simple on paper_, she couldn't help but think. A more lasting sensation took the place of her sarcastic dismay when her opponent's pain-induced flailing finally made its way towards her. It was merely a glancing blow from one of the creature's dorsal flaps but the sheer size of the scavenger was enough to make it feel as if she had been hit by a speeding car. The cavern was wide and spacious, even under the perspective of the Abyssal Worm, that Cecilia had more than enough room to avoid slamming into the unforgiving walls but that slight mercy served to be a rather flimsy umbrella within the metaphorical maelstrom. Her body flung out of control as her mind struggling to regain itself and it was only by a healthy dose of fortune that she managed to avoid a broken leg in the messy tumble to the floor. Of course, her right hip did not appreciate taking punishment in the stead of its connecting appendage and the pain in her waist and gut continued to throb against her senses as she struggled to get back to her feet.

The effort cost her ten deathly valuable seconds, a span of time more than long enough for her gargantuan foe to recover its senses and prepare for another vicious lunge. Struggling mightily to keep her wits, she took comfort in the consistency of her bow as she launched another sonic arrow that struck the ground in front of where she had anticipated the worm to land upon completing its latest bound. Taking a quick count and realizing that there were only two of those silver-tipped arrows left in her dwindling supply, it suddenly occurred to her that there was no better time to make her move. Her left hand was precise in guiding her penultimate saving grace but the weapon those stern fingers put into play hadn't even unleashed its payload before her nimble fingers were digging into her utility belt for something else. Pulling free her grappling gun and firing the diamond-tipped wire into a solid grouping of stalactites hanging above the beast, she used her right hand to simply fling the last of her sonic arrows before launching herself into the air in order to properly clamber onto the creature's massive back.

Or at least that was how the plan was supposed to work. The reality was something far more painful as an unexpected lurch to the left by the Abyssal Worm led to Arrowette crashing headlong into the far larger monstrosity. The consequences were far steeper this time and had the potential to climb even higher as Cecilia managed to gain control of her momentum only a half-second before falling to the ground. Her right elbow shattered as if it were porcelain while vertebrae stretched and splintered as she fell on her back from nearly 15 feet up, the titanium mesh armor that only thing saving Arrowette from a shattered spine. Nevertheless, the impact left the archer seeing stars that continued to float about the periphery even as she managed to scramble herself back to a seated position. If anything else, the new view allowed an accurate sight of the hellish monstrosity towering over her, the circumstantial servant of Neron letting out a monstrous roar in celebration of its triumph over a deceptive degree of adversity.

Cecilia King-Jones looked back at the victor with only a smidgen of fear but even that was swallowed up as she caught the sight of her shattered bow laying to her left. Odd as it was, she found her thoughts suddenly stretching back to a recently made memory, the recalled words and gestures making her proud that she had thought to do those things sooner.

"Well, it's been real," she said both to everyone and no one at all.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You know, these issues may be depressing for some of you to read but, in all honesty, I was pretty happy about it when I finally got down to writing. Maybe I'm just a sick bastard who enjoys inviting pain upon others when I'm not volunteering to help people with physical and/or learning disabilities but the last several installments have been remarkably easy to put down on screen. Make of this dichotomy what you will but maybe the fact that my stories have had over 11,000 hits in the month of November yet I received only 19 reviews for my hard work may have something to do with it. I mean, I know I've harped on this before but, hey, it's not like anybody besides me is paying to read this stuff and I've got to take out my frustrations out on something!

Seriously, though. This arc has a lot of elements that I've been tossing up in the air and seeing what I want to use. I'm guessing I'll have my share of confirming and dissenting opinions (especially considering some of the strong bias. . . er. . . opinions that some of my reviewers have about certain characters) but I guess that's what free speech is all about. That being said, rest assured that I'm relatively confident about where I want to go with all of this.

Well, at least as confident as I ever am when it comes to my own creations.

Next issue preview, anyone?

* * *

_Issue #114 Preview_

Well, things are just all sunshine and roses, aren't they? The Flash is locking horns with an opponent he's never beaten on his own, Stephanie appears to be at the mercy of a ridiculously merciless Arthur Light and Batman is facing down a powerhouse who can apparently control the flow of time the way The Dark Knight of Gotham City can manufacture his own unending broodiness! Oh, and let's not forget the whole thing about Grodd down and out and Terra now apparently surrounded by Neron's army with no one else to turn to.

Speaking of which, just where is Neron anyway? And just who was Rubicante's guest? More importantly, how in the hell are The Misfits supposed to get out of Hashmalamum before anything else manages to darken their doorstep? Find out how (or who) in the next installment of _The Misfits_: A Fist Around the Sickness. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	114. A Fist Around the Sickness

Issue #114

A Fist Around the Sickness

_The Depths of Zalera_

Grodd had token notice of his unexpected compatriot some time ago but only now did he choose to level the visitor with a measuring gaze, his eyes hard and stern as he guided his own beefy fingertips against the surface of the unfamiliar walls. The telepath had yet to grow fully confident within the dark surroundings and the addition of this fairly unknown variable was enough to nearly rankle his usually austere constitution. Recognizing the uncertainty as a potential gesture of weakness, the general of the force resisting Neron's takeover of their former domain chose quickly to maintain his thick veneer of confidence while wisely remembering of what would be riding on the events of the future.

"Your mind is churning within its own reservations, child," the beast noted, the sudden break in the silence seemingly enough to mildly startle the oddly garbed individual. "Perhaps you would wish to unburden it by releasing whatever may be on the top of it."

"It's nothing," Grodd's accomplice quickly barked back, the eyes of the relative stranger still focused on the darkness in front of them. The gorilla quickly took notice of this and kept his smile to himself, the evasive maneuver far too sudden to be considered false. "Just couldn't help but think that Bats is going to feel right at home in here."

The former rival of The Flash allowed himself a smirk. "You would know better than I," he confessed. "However, the fact remains that there is only so much that the good detective can accomplish in the events to come. He is but a man, a simple creature far too noble and buoyed by his own pride to take proper stock of his many limitations."

Having once been nothing but a mere human, perhaps it was understandable that the blue-eyed Gothamite sidling to Grodd's right appeared to take a bit of umbrage to Grodd's claim. "Yeah, he is just a man. But, like you just said, I know him better than you do. So much so that I know that you're going to keep selling him short just like you're doing now."

Grodd disintegrated the argument with a huff and a dismissive wave of his hand. "Semantics are irrelevant here, Robin. What matters here are the facts. It is a fact that it will be tremendously difficult to overcome the trials within these catacombs with the limited supply of resources at our disposal. The matter of success is now a possibility thanks to some recent avenues of communication that I have managed to create but the principal problem remains and has no easy solution."

Robin let out a sigh. "You mean how we're planning on shutting down the transdimensional nexus once we get there," ventured the vigilante. "I mean, I don't know as much about it as I would like but I'm guessing that whatever's involved is going to be a lot more than just twisting on a deadbolt."

An unexpected giving in of the rock beneath his feet left Grodd momentarily out of balance. His pain receptors deadened by the punishments Neron and his captors had placed upon him, the noble animal failed to notice the unhealthy manner in which his knee had skidded against the sharp debris until he could smell the blood seeping from the tiny apertures. His nostrils flaring at the unpleasant input, he paid some slight attention to how the rich plasma had clung to the thick hairs around his right leg before facing forward once again. "Indeed it is," he finally replied while pulling himself back up to his feet, a stormy furrow upon his brow. "It is impossible to say for certain but it is quite likely that the outlay for restoring order may involve a similar such bargain to the one Neron employed to be the star of this continuous theater of war."

"Say what now?" asked Robin. "I mean, are we talking about souls here or is there something more to it than that?"

Much like the hostile stare Grodd had employed to freeze the vigilante in their tracks only a minute ago, the look Grodd delivered in response told enough to fill out a novel. "All penalties are meaningless under the shadow of the soul, child. It is what we are all consumed to cling to when the body no longer functions and it is the strength of just one soul, of Edward Bloomberg's desire to rise from his own meager destiny, that now gives Neron the strength to commit to this potentially cataclysmic upheaval."

Robin paused for a moment, an unconscious gesture designed to give Grodd's words their proper respect. In return for the respect given to him, Grodd ceased his critical gaze and raised a single finger before jabbing it against the thick tissue and muscle above his heart.

"The creature that chooses to break the chains that detain the true owner of The Bane of Velius must willingly shatter their own soul. The sacrifice shall know no repentance nor damnation nor even the simplicity of existence. It will simply be no more."

"But what if that's enough?"

Grodd levied another gaze upon his comrade, this one rife with a furrowed brow and narrowed black, irises. "So now you understand why I allowed this meeting to take place. Know that I would not ask this task of you if I were not willing to perform it myself. . ."

Robin raised a gloved hand, the shrouded champion bearing a gentle smile in the midst of the animal's sudden hesitance.

"It's all right. I can take on this burden."

Both pairs of eyes gazed down the long, dank corridor that awaited them. So much could have been hidden behind this stale, silent place and the miles of tunnels beyond it but suddenly it seemed as if the intrigue could wait for a while.

"Besides," Robin added. "It's not like I won't be remembered."

* * *

Most would have found it difficult to meet the damning stare of Za'hafal-nesh but Rubicante was able to do so with ease, the oracle even going so far to showcase his lack of concern by sporting a casual smile in the face of fury delivered by his fellow greater demon.

"We have known one another for a thousand lifetimes, Guardian of The Weak," the fiery fiend reminded The Condemner as his crimson-red cloak of fire swathed around him. "It is a span of history more than long enough for the both of us to recognize that you are not entirely devoid of blame for the situation at hand. "You left the boy in the lurch of a situation that he could never be equipped to control on his own, much less considering his current physical and psychological fatigue. He is now devoid of power he had grown vastly familiar with, thirsting for knowledge that he cannot find, and forced to suffer at the mercies of a monstrosity that would have left him in peace were it not for his unwilling association with you."

"You underestimate the boy's capacities," replied the immortal known to handfuls of humanity as The Condemner, the midnight-black armor surrounding his twenty-foot tall frame seemingly coming alive in the shadows of the roaring magma. "Infinite knowledge may be at your beck and call, Rubicante, but you have always failed to understand the strength of the heart. I knew that Zalbarda would have no interest in eliminating my former host once I was no longer available to him and it was only a matter of time before the half-blood would respond to my separation and come to save her lover. Such is the way of the heart, be it Earthling, Kryptonian, or Praxian."

Rubicante slowly shook his head back and forth. "Your deceit would have a hard time fooling any of the hearts that you speak so highly of, old friend. _I _knew that the events would fall as they would. _You, _on the other hand, are employing fortunate hindsight to hide yourself from the truth of the matter."

The Condemner couldn't help but look away, the blaze of the truth blistering even him.

Undeterred, the oracle trudged forward. "Overestimation of a beloved colleague is rarely ever a dangerous crime, Za'hafal-nesh. However, far sterner souls have fallen to the cruel hands of Hashmalamum. Lloyd Thomas is quite fortunate to have survived as long as he has within Neron's kingdom and the battle to come will stretch fate's charity towards him to a ludicrous degree."

Za'hafal-nesh, a merciless killer of countless thousands, did his best to meet the perceptive stare and found that he could nothing more than turn away.

"Better to be betrayed by an enemy than ruined by a friend."

It was Rubicante's laughter that finally summoned the courage The Condemner required to regain his fuming demeanor. "Well, one could speculate over whether or not the boy could ever consider you a friend now," mused the prophet, the long, sinuous fingers of his pale, left hand sliding down and about the flame-red veins around his chin. "Of course, it is only natural for anyone in your position to be comfortable withholding certain bits of information."

The Condemner made certain to settle himself at that, his massive forearms bulging as he tensed his fingertips. "Had I not interfered then Zalbarda would have continued to escalate the battle until the boy was overwhelmed," the greater demon replied, a tired timbre within his candor that made the greater demon sound as if he were addressing a pushy child rather than an unwearied fountain of knowledge. "To continue the fight would only have led to the death of us both."

"Yes, in a moment of weakness you slipped free of your chains," mused Rubicante. "You are now free to your own devices while your long-unwilling host is left to most likely die at Neron's hands. Quite the bargain given your former circumstances."

A frighteningly sharp sickle seemed to explode from The Condemner's left gauntlet, a portion of the impressive armor somehow altering into a weapon that seemed destined to slice into Rubicante's flesh. In response, the seer calmly transformed his body into living flame and evaded the fruitless attack with ease. The flames quickly coalesced back to their preferred state only seconds later, a sliver of a moment before the missing portion of Za'hafal-nesh's armor returned to affix itself to its owner.

"And it seems that seven years of cohabitation have left you with the impulsivity of a human," Rubicante noted while brushing his fingertips against his cloak. "I won't bother with asking whether or not you've thought your decision through. On the other hand, this does leave the matter of what you wish to do from here. Mister Thomas, admirable as he may have been to recover himself with the aid of his paramour, is a child who has suffered greatly. To be suddenly stripped of the power you were forced to hand down to him, perhaps his sole source of constant comfort for a good percentage of his existence, could inspire him to seek an appropriate substitute. Add the centuries of knowledge you were coerced into handing down to him and the world may very well be left to deal with some dangerous inspirations."

The Condemner nodded in agreement. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, it is a possibility that you're now blatantly using to string me along as if I were a trout."

"Well, it's working. Is it not?" Rubicante replied with a careless air, the bottomless pits of his eyes regaining their glow upon the demon's complete reassembly. "The chains binding around the foreseeable future may be forever firm but also always leave room for jostling, Za'hafal-nesh. The question here remains whether you choose to allow this ordinary boy to ensnare the restraints for his own safety or force them to him and have the both of you suffer the consequences."

Another raucous explosion from Mount Marilith, the most prodigious volcano within Hashmalamum's Cleft, produced a series of weighty shuddering against the earth. The last of them was boisterous enough to rattle the usually stern foundations of the plinth that stood between the two greater demons and instinct had compelled The Condemner to reach forward and support the stand even as his elder comrade remained still and calm.

"And here I thought that you were supposed to be providing the answers," replied the black-clad judgment of man and demon alike, his immense hands easily eclipsing the centerpiece of Rubicante's workplace. "Lugae knew that he wasn't long for the world when he began his work with Lloyd and Vincent. Even his own ego wouldn't have kept that madman from installing some kind of failsafe that he could control should his subjects meander away from his design."

Rubicante's noble brow was smooth and composed as the seer rose back to his full height, his impressive frame still leaving him several feet beneath The Condemner. "Neron and Zalbarda's influence have already allowed you to see the proof within the hypothesis. The bonds between you and the human were never meant to remain within their current design. For all his extraordinary advances in the field of melding human and demonic DNA, Immanuel Lugae did choose to appease his own desire for success rather than accepting his greatest failure."

The oracle placed his left hand on The Condemner's tensed fingers as a signal that there was work to be done. The other greater demon was kind enough to respond quickly, the ageless warrior lifting his hands away and stepping back to allow the architect of fate to take command of his easel. In response, the crimson-eyed immortal slid his long fingers across the wide stone, his touch seemingly giving life to the mass of gray granite as dozens of fractured images began to stretch free from some unseen confines. It was nothing short than a kaleidoscope of whatever there was to come, a gathering of events, discrepancies, and forks in the road of history that were far too numerous for one to be focused on specifically.

"Much of the future remains unwritten, Guardian of The Weak, but I can assure you of this," Rubicante went on while stepping away from his work. "Should you willingly allow him to inherit your power then Lloyd Thomas will die."

* * *

_November 1st - 9:59 A.M. - Queklain's Tower_

His very smile seemed to bring light to the apex of this wretched bit of architecture, the gleaming, white incisors of the former criminologist painting a wicked contrast to the dank blacks and purples that clustered around him. The twisted influences and corruptions of nature had only escalated in strength and influence the further up the dark monument and the theory remained true when there was nothing more to climb. It was here that the mocking voices and greedy ambitions of countless sinning souls had gone to fester and revel in their vile nature, their potency so stiff that the foul mixture could somehow manage to trickle down the very walls of the structure itself.

And Hunter Zolomon was at the center of it all, this once good man taking strength from the hopelessness and malice and the haunting murmurs that accompanied them.

"You knew what would be waiting for you here," Zoom began again, his calm tones managing to startle his virtuous counterpart. "So why did you choose to complete your journey?"

Wally somehow managed to cease his shivering as he lowered his muscular legs into a familiar Wushu-style stance, his clenched fists rising and falling in front of his chest. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked back, an icy flicker in his burning, golden pupils. "I've beaten you before and now I'm going to do it again."

The sharp bark of laughter from Zoom's lips was enough to make the hairs on Wally's neck stand up, the auburn follicles feeling sharp as needles against his spine.

"You've never been a good liar, old friend," Zolomon replied. "I can smell the weakness in you. I can taste how hard you've worked to make certain you've never grown stronger and that's the difference between you and me. I endured my failure, gathered my misfortune, and used it to grow stronger. I stared down my suffering and took strength from it until you couldn't even hope to keep pace with me."

The smirk that slithered onto the edgy countenance of Neron's avatar of violence only heightened the certainty of his declarations. "You needed Slade to save you in our last battle and that was when you were at full strength. This time I am fueled not only by that failure but by the cries of those that suffer here, Wallace."

Wally hardly needed any further evidence to respect Zolomon's taunting but that didn't stop his former colleague from drawing first blood with a blindingly fast left hook to the jaw. Three consecutive jabs to the chin and a quartet of stiff shots to the abdomen followed before The Flash could even put up his defenses, the wails of the souls that mocked him now roaring in his ears as he struggled to block and parry with his agile fists and forearms. Respecting the longer limbs of his adversary, Wally did what he could to keep the battle close and even meander in some stray knees to the gut and a solid kick to Zoom's right shin. The heat generated by the surrounding electricity brought a coterie of sweat drops to pool around his shrouded forehead until the steam seemed to be pouring from the top of his head only to disintegrate before it reached his eyes.

The first round of the skirmish came to a typically quick end as Wally attempted to follow up on his success with another kick to the opposite shin. Anticipating what was coming, Zolomon stamped down his left foot and trapped Wally's foot between him and the floor. The right-handed haymaker was easily avoided but it was also nothing more than a feint as Zolomon swept his hand back with as much strength and speed as he could muster and slammed the back of his fist against The Flash's nose and jaw. Joints popped and bones shattered as the impact of the shot forced Wally into the western walls where the midnight-black vines were there to meet them, the dark influence of Queklain eager to feast upon one of the strongest creatures that had ever had the misfortune to come across them.

Denying the instincts that had made him such a talented officer of the law, Zoom chose to wait a moment or two before ordering the tower to relent its assault with a casual wave of his hand. "You're not as foolish as you would have me believe," he reminded his downed adversary while strolling to his left. "You knew I would be upset about what little effort you've made to appreciate what I did for you." Zolomon shook his head back and forth, the virtuous monster fighting back the urge to scream out his dismay. "I did everything I could to make you stronger. I decorated Metropolis with Bart Allen's blood in the hope that you would become the hero that would never allow other people to suffer as you or I did yet here you are, worthless as you have always been!"

Zolomon allowed the proper silence to allow his words to sink home to their fullest extent. So much so that he allowed himself to be caught by surprise as Wally decked him with a right hook to the jaw.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was too busy not trying to run away from my troubles."

Sense memory played against Zolomon as a straight punch to the gut sent him hurtling into the opposite wall, the murky interior borders of the tower seemingly skittering away from him as his body slammed against the unforgiving stone. A continuous series of kicks forced him further into the crater, the lashing of The Flash's feet against his head, chest, and shoulders filling him with enough pain to invigorate him to the point where he could summon the velocity to escape the harmful trappings with a hasty hypervibration of his molecules. They dashed around the darkened room, lap after lap after dozens of laps while daring the other to make a move away from the seemingly endless and fruitless pursuit. Finally, after seconds and miles that faded like nothing, Zolomon cut away from the circular path and skidded to a stop at the center of the room, a smirk on the face of the rogue speedster as he watched his rival slide to a similar halt just 10 feet away.

"This isn't just about being a hero anymore," Zolomon informed his suddenly cautious challenger. "I have been given a greater purpose, an opportunity to serve as the embodiment of life's truest catalyst. Arthur Light may sully himself with his lustful pursuits and Circe shall seek her gains through betrayal but such efforts only acquire a temporary triumph. They offer fleeting inspiration and momentary glory rather than a true motivation for change. It is violence that shall always provide the truest answer of who we are and I will teach this to everyone, Wallace. You don't _deserve _all of my honest labor anymore."

A blink of time passed and The Flash found himself stumbling down to his knees, his plummet brought about by a stiff body blow when his defenses proved to be a millisecond too slow. His skull reeled from the five sharp impacts that came when Zolomon slammed his right foot down onto the back of his head but Wally managed to catch the sixth attempt by snaring Zoom's heel with his right hand. Taking a sliver of a second to bring his wits about him, The Flash followed his clever defense up by tossing Zoom into the air with the force of his own forward momentum that allowed him to simultaneously rise back to his feet, his return to an upright position quickly coinciding with the landing of a roundhouse kick to the gut that sent his foe hurtling away from him. Drawing what air he could from his lungs, the young father waited patiently as Zolomon drew his body into a tight cartwheel that allowed the golden-clad speed merchant to keep his feet.

"Perhaps the problem was that I hadn't forced your hand enough," Zolomon murmured in consideration while pacing slowly to his right. "Maybe you didn't care as much about Allen as I had thought. Maybe I should have made certain that your children stayed dead after I slaughtered them in your wife's womb."

The slow smile that came to Zolomon's face in the midst of The Flash's horror was sickly genuine.

"Rest assured, my boy. I won't make that mistake twice."

Wally knew he could never be the runner, the hero that Barry Allen was. There may have been times when he could match his uncle's physical abilities and perhaps, on a good day, come close to matching the class and intellect of his uncle and childhood hero but the fact remained that he could never be as good as the original. There was no one around that could convince him otherwise as he rushed forward and delivered a stiff uppercut before Zolomon could even start to move. Dozens of punches and kicks followed, most of them landing home while a scant percentage were parried and met with vicious counters but The Flash had suddenly decided that he would feel the pain that came from them at another time.

The truth was as simple as this bastard kept making it out to be. Some things simply had to be solved with violence. Brutal, freeing violence. The damning truth behind it continued to ring true to Wally as he was slammed to the floor by the back of his neck. The knowledge that Zolomon was still dizzily attempting to recover from the previous skirmish was of little comfort because now The Flash remembered why he had just been so interested in comparing himself with his uncle.

Because he sensed him. He felt _him_.

"Well, look who it is," whispered Eobard Thawne, the malicious slither that always seemed to linger in the voice of the first Reverse Flash burning The Flash's ears. "Kid Flash is all grown up."

* * *

Walker Gabriel proceeded towards the fallen Batman as if he were an awestruck museumgoer completing their journey to a familiar but still beloved piece of art, his steps slow and loping and his eyes glazed over with questions and potential possibilities. Proving himself a patient man, he allowed enough moments to allow his fellow tortured soul to regain himself as much as he could, the blood-stained lumps of shattered bone and splotchy sinew that served as Batman's legs dragging against the stone as the fallen knight struggled to sit back up. A ghost of a smile finally crept onto Chronos's trembling lips upon Batman's success, the well-worn time traveler fascinated at what he had come to know as a rare exception.

"You search for strength and success even after recognizing that there's no way to find it," Chronos clarified while taking hold of Batman's right foot. Gabriel could feel the hate burning from Wayne's eyes but knew that there would be no resistance to his work and he slowly stretched out first one leg and then the other to their full length. "Your only hope to remain alive is to be patient and to rely on others to see you through."

Long, painful seconds passed as Chronos popped Batman's right knee back into its socket and set the cracked portions of the detective's left femur where it needed to be. A series of smaller _crack_s and _snap_s followed, the more vociferous of them occasionally accompanied by a pained grumble that slipped from Batman's lips.

"What happened to you, Walker?" Batman asked with as much sympathy as he could muster. His tone ran a rich vein of sympathy and intrigue but it still couldn't summon the attention of his unexpected caretaker. "I've worked with you. I watched you to make certain you were still going on the right track. Why did you join Luthor's Society?"

Chronos's fingers lingered over Batman's left knee while his body listlessly shook up and down. It was the reaction of an obstinate child who was forced to hear something he wanted to avoid. "I don't wanna be you anymore, mister," he finally replied, his obstinate voice a dull singsong now that everything was as well as it could be. His fingers still nimble despite the occasional frightful tremble, Gabriel eventually wandered his way up to Batman's chest. "You're older than you're s'posed to be," he allowed while examining the scars, old and new, that lined Bruce's ripped and rigid torso and abdomen. "All these bumps and booboos."

The tip of Gabriel's right index finger found the deepest burn on Batman's chest and pressed down on it hard, the sharp fingernail digging through the barely recovered skin and slicing through it for a fraction of an inch. The pressure was enough for the detective to let out a scream as he was forced down onto his back once again, his muscular frame quaking in agony.

"This will not do. This simply will not do," Chronos said fretfully, his anxious gaze skittering up and down Batman's agonized features. "Quickly, quickly, we must make you hale and hearty."

In the future, Batman would frequently be asked by others what he felt as Chronos stretched his hands over the bat-shaped scar on his chest. And, with few exceptions, these one-sided interviews would always prove to be a frustrating endeavor to endure, the aggravation only heightened by the few answers he could glean when he attempted to answer the question on his own time. The only way he could describe it was how his eyes were forced to take it all in, his dilated pupils locked onto the swirling, blue nimbus of energy that swirled around the both of them. The visual distraction proved to be welcome but still a pale substitute for the unique kind of mercy that Gabriel had prepared for him.

He felt bones knitting themselves together again, shuddered as blood coagulated against the wounds they emerged from, and gasped as the disfigured skin along his chest healed as best it could. He fainted nearly a dozen times from exhaustion, his throat shriveled, dried, and was restored again many times more and his stomach continuously rang with vicious pangs that soon came to rattle against his rib cage and dig at his intestinal walls. For lack of any better term to describe it, the six months that passed from Batman's perspective and the two minutes to everything else in existence was largely indescribable yet the unique chronal manipulation abilities of Neron's avatar of gluttony made the impossible event look like nothing more than a mildly practiced process. It was almost too much for even Bruce's sharp mind to comprehend and it was all he could do but fix his eyes upon Chronos in a rictus of disbelief.

"There you go. You're right where you need to be," Chronos finally replied with a gentle smile, his fingers briefly brushing against the thick, bushy beard that now matted Bruce's face. "I'll be nice and not quibble about the smell. I only had enough water to keep you alive, after all."

Now Batman's mouth was as wide open as his eyes. Taking note of the aura still lingering around the both of them, he somehow managed to guess that the enchantment must have been what kept him hydrated. That was what had kept him alive throughout the unique torture that Chronos had thrust upon him. His limbs were now absent from pain save from the dull strum of inactivity and The Dark Knight of Gotham City was quick to make space between himself and his healer.

His legs creaked in defiance after suddenly being asked to put forth such an effort but a lifetime of physical training allowed Batman to keep from falling over in exhaustion. His body reeked from the blood and sweat that had been left to congeal and the stench of it was nearly enough to rattle his shrunken stomach. In fact, the only thing that kept him from emptying what little stomach acid that remained in his intestines was the determination that came from the sight out of the bottom corners of his eyes, the massive scarring created by Doctor Light to serve as a grisly mockery of what he had worked so hard to stand for.

"It's time for you to go away now," Chronos continued in his childlike timbre. "You don't want your ticket to be a lie, do you?"

* * *

There didn't seem like that there was any way to win. Decades of practice in the field of spectral manipulation gave the monster in front of her a distinct advantage in terms of long-range combat and the addition of the unholy endurance and inhuman recuperative abilities bestowed upon Neron's avatar of lust had proven to more than make up for any lack of combat training or disadvantages in terms of physical strength. More importantly, he had managed to dip into her very soul, his unrelenting hooks digging and extracting parts of her mind and soul that she desperately wanted to keep to herself. That strike, more than any bruise, burn, or bleeding gash, had left her at a woeful disadvantage that was threatening to force her will to work against itself.

That, in turn, gave Stephanie the morbid sense of hope she was searching for. _This _was a goal that she might not accomplish, a feat that would leave others to speak ill of her if they discovered that she had screwed up yet again.

_This is an opportunity to prove them wrong_, she thought while fixing Light's smarmy confidence with a cocky smirk of her own.

"So the cow finds something to smile about," Light noted, the madman completely undeterred. "Maybe you're starting to look forward to having a real man plowin' into you, little birdie?"

The once ferocious battle now at a standstill, the fourth person to don the mantle of Robin found that she had a moment to wipe away a smudge of dirt and blood on her left cheek with just the middle finger of her adjacent hand. "Well, here's the thing. You said you've been watchin' me for quite a while now so maybe you already get what's going on but, if you don't, I'll give you the skinny."

Robin offered Doctor Light the same smile she had always saved for Tim whenever he was acting like an asshole and needed to be reminded of it. "It's just that, over the course of this life o' mine I've been scared of a lot of things I could never really get a hold of. When I was five I was scared of monsters hiding in my closet or waiting to pull me under the bed. Then, a little while later, I found out that the real monsters you had to worry about were the ones that hurt you right after they said they loved you."

Robin suddenly felt an odd, rising feeling burbling around the back of her throat. She spat out the globule of blood that would have eventually reached the surface of her lips as her fingers looked for a familiar spot on the right side of her jaw. It was a well-practiced gesture and it wasn't long at all before her ring and index fingers quickly found the frame of the fractured bone and the memory that came with it. Her father had come home after some drunken escapade or some more criminal kind of mischief, it would be impossible to figure out which now, and was lacking the patience to speak to a nine-year-old daughter who had been wondering where her father was. The hard, backhanded swipe with a clothing iron proved to shut her up quite nicely, the blunt metal striking her hard enough to unhinge the lower half of her mouth and coerce even her drug-addled mother to rush her to the emergency room as Arthur panicked and left their lives for another handful of months.

It was an injury that had lasted for far too long for the ring to heal but Robin suddenly treasured the unfortunate circumstance.

"Then there was my mom. I mean, she always loved me but, hey, it's pretty tough to take care of somebody else if you can't manage to see to yourself. So, at the risk of maybe sounding whiny, I guess you can sort of say that I've had a whole lot of fights that I didn't know how to win." She ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip in a manner that some could have considered to be lascivious and it proved to be the first gesture that seemed to truly give pause to the suddenly patient Arthur Light. "But now. . . Now I've got a real-life, big, bad boogeyman standing in front of me, don't I?"

Light recognized the hunger in the bitch's voice and responded in kind. "Oh, I'm badder than everything you've ever wanted, sweetie." The anticipation prompted his dead eyes to sparkle, white as the sun, as the supernatural energy stored within his very veins let out an impatient rumble.

Stephanie, in return, offered a rejoinder in the form of a crooked smile as she placed her hands on her hips.

"I'm sure you are, baby."

Robin hurtled herself forward as quickly as she could towards her next destination, the slight moment she had to take in her opponent's baffled countenance fueling her as she plowed into the western wall of the seemingly endless precipice. She met the stern rock at a velocity that was hardly phenomenal, at least under her circumstances, but still fast enough to make an easy task of tunneling through the pitch-black stone that now surrounded her. The Oan power ring now served the double duty of lighting her way through the darkness while supplying her with enough strength to plow through her obstacle, the eldritch instrument of destruction appearing to glimmer in anticipation as it steered its vessel through their shared objective.

The air was just as stale and hastily cobbled together as she imagined but the absence of oxygen only made what was to come that much sweeter as she emerged from the wall moments later, the soles of her boots now 100 feet above Light's head. An eighth of a second later, Stephanie made certain that her boots were directly on her opponent's skull while the rest of her 135-pound frame was carefully balanced on top of the steel-toed combat gear.

"Tag. You're it."

Arthur Light let out a roar as he teleported away from the ungainly position to where he stood just a meter behind the Green Lantern but discovered that the girl was already gone. It only took a fraction of a second for the rapist to discern that she had tunneled through the eastern wall and barely more time than that for the former Secret Society figurehead to generate and let loose a blisteringly hot pulse of light that eradicated the hastily made aperture in the rock and everything else around it for nearly 50 yards. Furious for having let the battle go on as long as he had, the master of photon manipulation was mired in his anger long enough to be caught completely unawares when Robin emerged from the western wall once again and dug her knees into Light's back while wrapping her hands around his neck. A combination of a platform of solid, emerald light and simple gravity was enough to do the rest and Light let out a deafening scream as his neck and spine were simultaneously snapped. The desiccation of the dead man's throat quickly caused the howl that emerged from his strained gullet to lessen into a series of hoarse coughs as Robin calmly eased Light off of her knees before she took her time in getting back to her own feet.

"You know what? I think I've figured out the real reason why you have such a mad-on for Batman. Care to hear it?"

The mockingly cheerful tone in Robin's offering inspired Light to let loose a massive beam of black light from his right palm. Of course, even the most impressive blast was next to meaningless if it didn't affect the target it was intended for so Neron's lieutenant found himself forced to accept the bitter pill as Robin erupted from the eastern wall and landed a solid kick straight to Light's dead scrotum that sent the monster flying up back through the abyss. Letting her tongue waggle free from her lips as she let out a breath of fatigue, the fair-haired Gothamite managed to easily recollect herself before launching herself airborne once again and catching up with Light's ascent. Wrapping her right arm around Light's still fractured neck as the both of them worked their way back down, she found herself unwilling to let physics do all the work on this occasion and poured on an additional dose of velocity as she forced her beleaguered adversary back to the surface, chest first, at nearly 600 miles an hour.

"Hey, hey, hey! Keep your ribs where I don't have to see 'em," Robin sang out even over the voice of Light's scream and the sensation of Light's T-11 and T-12 vertebrae scratching against the chain mail around her belly. "Damn, I gotta admit that you almost had me there, General Goatee. I mean, you had me so wrapped up in my own head that you nearly made me forget who I was."

Feeling a bit curious, Stephanie danced her fingers across the burnt strip of skin and sinew that once held on Light's chin. She allowed the energy that was offered in response to burn against her body, the agony that came with Light's latest explosive attack enough to loosen the grip she had on the monster's neck but not enough to separate them completely. Her strategy of employing the rocks, the one place that she could get through at a greater pace than her ruthless foe, was starting to bear its true fruit and her success heralded the return of the same obnoxious smirk that had drawn the attention of everyone from Batman to Sinestro.

"There's only one way I know how to win anymore," Robin confessed as she amplified a spiraling blast of emerald energy that was gradually pushing the vile, black light back to its owner. "And that's my way!"

* * *

The Flash did what little he could to keep the looming fear away from his tired thoughts, the bloodied young father trying his best to recover himself while still within the grasp of the first person he had ever come to fear.

Thawne, as if reading the thoughts of the wounded quarry beneath him, produced a nastily warm smirk. "You think he's disappointed in you, kiddo? What do you think that makes me?" The golden-clad speedster remained on his haunches as he twisted his neck and offered his inheritor a contemptuous glower. "This little holier-than-thou worm held every good card in the deck and he still almost lost to you."

Wally shut his eyes tightly as this time-traveling criminal, the antithesis of his uncle's legacy of hope and encouragement moved to prove his superiority. The crimson-garbed speedster was destabilizing his molecular makeup to the point of risking a permanent scattering of his own body but Thawne still managed to match him atom for atom until he put an end to it by forcefully slamming The Flash's face to the floor. Hundreds upon hundreds of similar atrocities followed as Thawne literally committed his hands to treating The Flash's head as if it were the spade of a jackhammer, the younger man's skull digging into the hard, stone floor of Queklain until both sides began to give in a horrifically messy fashion.

Overcome by his curiosity a few moments later, Eobard paused to take a look at what remained of The Flash's face. Somewhat pleased by the blood-soaked lump of muscle and bone that was once a fairly handsome countenance, the murderer of hundreds in the name of violent ambition and retribution did what he could to find the boy's swollen-shut eyes in all the mess.

"So it just looks like. . ."

Thawne slammed Wally's face into the floor once again, a bit of the young father's blood spurting from his right ear upon impact. Amused by the occurrence, he hefted Wally up again by the scruff of his neck and tried to repeat the reaction.

_SLAM! _Lift. _SLAM! _Lift.

"He'll need some. . ."

_SLAM! _Lift.

"Extensive. . . instruction!"

The roof of Queklain seemed to tremble as Professor Zoom finally managed to punch Wally's skull through the floor. The shaking but sturdy grip Thawne held on the back of The Flash's neck kept the bloodied champion from tumbling down to the floor below and it was a simple matter for the castaway from the 25th century to switch his strength to his left arm as he wrapped the hand around Wally's throat before slamming the instrument of the surrounding destruction into the northern wall. Then, finally content with his deserved revenge, he simply let the nephew of his hated rival collapse to the floor while fixing Zolomon's shock with an impatient glare.

"Do try to do the job right this time," Thawne ruthlessly suggested to his younger colleague.

* * *

Batman was sent down to his knees for the third time in 90 seconds, this time by a double-ax handle against his back that allowed a number of old injuries to remind the detective of their presence. The assault was slow, clumsy, and hopelessly sloppy from what little the master fighter could discern but those handicaps hardly mattered when the attacker had a comparative eternity to put a plan into motion. It was impossible for him to determine just how long his own 90 seconds had been from the perspective of the time shaper that was currently taking him apart bit-by-bit but the fruitlessness of his resistance made it a moot point. His body was pale, his stratagems and energy plundered by lingering thirst and vast starvation and his thoughts were plagued by events that happened both seconds and months ago.

Was Cecilia still safe? Was Stephanie truly able to dispatch Arthur Light? Was _everyone _safe? The inquiry seemed like a silly gesture but the answers would have been distant and needed enough even without the six months that Chronos had taken from him.

His troubles deepened as the left side of his skull met Gabriel's left boot in the form of a painful punt kick, the combination of lack of preparation on one side and an abundance on the other allowing for another perfect strike that was stiff enough to raise Batman an inch or two above the ground. Batman cursed to himself as his right knee gave out on him, the muscles and blood vessels still not yet adjusting to the sudden stress put upon them and forcing him to momentarily lie on his belly as he struggled to recover.

"I've gone over it, a hundred, hundred times, and I still don't understand how you still don't get it?" Chronos pondered as Batman saw the thick, arterial blood puddle beneath his lips. "Everything I used to do, so long ago, was about getting back my family. I was nothing but an infant when you told me that you fought for the same thing but you went and told a lie, didn't you? You lied and you knew you lied and now you're going to go straight to your mommy and tell her what you did!"

Pain exploded around Batman's heart as the tips of Chronos's right boot found the center of his chest. His body armor had been stripped from him long ago so the only thing left to absorb the damage was the inches of scar tissue left by Arthur Light and the reddish-brown mound of flesh proved to not offer the slightest hint of relief.

"Uoy evah a family, t'nod uoy?" Gabriel asked with a mournful gasp even as he stooped down to swipe away the blood from his boots. "I know. . . IknowIknowIknowIknowIknow I messed up when I joined the Society but you didn't give me a chance to say why! You just punished me! You had some bad lady take away my chance to get back the only thing I ever wanted, _gnihtemos uoy ydaerla evah, _but you're just too lazy to try and keep it together!"

Batman tried his best to black out the pain of his aching ribs and throbbing torso as he slowly reached into a side pocket of his utility belt. He wasn't too surprised that Gabriel made no attempt to put a stop to his ambitions. The poor man's desperate search to punish others and to be punished in return was the only way reason why the time traveler would stay around as the flash bomb exploded around them. The flash of light was quick but dangerously painful as both men let out agonized roars, the elder of the two putting all his will and resolve into motion by resisting the urge to wipe at his throbbing eyes while Gabriel fell to the floor clutching at his eyelids and screaming bloody murder.

Bruce found himself relishing the screams even as his leg muscles bellowed at him for attempting to get back onto his feet. He fell to a knee nearly halfway up on his first attempt but he managed to reach his feet on the second attempt, a bladed batarang at the ready in his right hand. He had desperately prayed for enough time to pull off the remainder of the gambit but the absence of motion and the sound of the black projectile falling uselessly to the ground proved that it wasn't enough. A heartbeat passed and blood from his forehead was pouring into his eyes from the six or seven gashes Gabriel had left in the thin flesh, the shock of the sudden change of circumstances coercing Batman to stumble to the ground.

The look in Chronos's wide eyes was frantically sad, the blood-coated Batarang clutches in his left hand like it were an old, familiar toy.

"Why didn't you just enjoy the time you had? Yhw t'ndluoc uoy erac?" Neron's avatar of gluttony couldn't help but ask even as a portion of Batman's blood dribbled back down to the detective's abdomen. "Yhw t'ndluoc uoy !"

Still momentarily blinded, Batman forced to rely on his instincts as he summoned what little strength he had left and threw Chronos off of him. He heard the distinct _crack _that came with knees crashing against an unforgiving surface before the emergence of a scrabbling sound that most likely meant that his aggrieved foe had fallen onto his belly and was scrambling for safety. Given that he was considered to be a master of investigation, it was also easy to say that he would have noticed the bladed Batarang lodged in the back of the time traveler's head were he equipped to do so, the jagged, three-inch-deep aperture allowing for a spurt of dead, black blood to spray from the unwilling master of The Gaia Battlers.

"You 'erac' about that, cuckoo's nest?"

Batman's heart let out a tug at the familiar voice. So much arrogance, so much confidence.

"Jason?"

* * *

Wally waited as patiently as he could while Zolomon wrapped his trembling fingers around his neck. Far too weakened by Thawne's brutality to fight off his old friend, he could do little more than feel the compression of vessels and squeezing of bones as his breath was stifled within his trachea. He took in the flecks of gold within Zolomon's otherwise burning, red eyes as his lungs strained to complete a task that had been made impossible, the additional stress of being shaken like a rag doll weakening his resolve that much more. Keeping his wits about him, the young father said a brief prayer for the safety of his family as his sights began to dim and his Adam's apple came dangerously close from splintering.

Just in case this didn't work.

The odd thing about desperation is that it could make a person become quite focused upon a singular task. Place someone within a definitive struggle for their survival, for example, and anyone could muster up abilities they didn't even know they had until it came the time to use it. It was true that Wally had managed to pull off this kind of trick on similar such occasions but never had he managed it while his target was so strong and he was so weak.

It should have been impossible.

Then he thought about his family.

Then the rest was easy.

The Flash took great satisfaction looking at Zolomon's bulging eyes as the avatar of violence realized he was being played. The murderer's grip gradually slackened as Wally regained his faculties, his bashed, bloodied face hastily putting itself back together again with the aid of Zoom's supercharged metabolism. Picoseconds passed as Wally grit his teeth and wrapped his own right hand around Zolomon's throat, his phenomenal leg strength allowing him to easily bring himself back to his feet and bring Zoom back down to a position of galling subservience.

Then there was another, impossibly fast blur of gold and Wally was knocked off of Zolomon with bone-crushing force. Another blistering lance of pain exploded in The Flash's neck as Thawne held him down once again, the fury seeming to explode from every pore of Iris Allen's murderer.

"FOOL!" Barry Allen's rival spat out in utter contempt as he siphoned off the kinetic energy that the boy had stolen from his inheritor. "You knew he could steal speed! Don't think that you've got an enemy beaten until they're dead, boy!"

A deafening _WHOOOOOOM _resounded through the roof of Queklain and the dozen floors beneath it as Thawne leapt away from his advantageous position with impossible speed, the sudden, contradictory gesture forcing the brilliant monster to unceremoniously fall on his ass. Still feeling a bit leery from the series of rapid juxtaposition of events, it didn't help Wally in the least to discover that he was being helped to his feet by a welcome acquaintance, perhaps someone more appreciated than even he had ever known.

In fact, that fact was probably one of the few things that he and Eobard Thawne could agree upon.

"Should have known that you'd show up sooner or later," Thawne spat back while preparing himself for war.

Wally's rescuer allowed his unwavering, blue eyes to combat the venom.

"It only seemed fair, Thawne. There's two of you. . . now there's two of us."

Side by side once again, Barry Allen and Wally West readied themselves to save the world.

Neron graced the thoughts of his elected champions and was disgusted. The loathing was meaningless of course, as it usually was in matters that lesser beings chose to fret upon and the greater demon felt no regret with shuttling the unnecessary response away from what truly needed to be done. Other lieutenants could be discovered and discarded. Philosophies and raison d'etres would always shift as often as the tides of the world he would soon come to conquer but his mission would remain, alive and ever noble.

Grodd would have to be dealt with in due time, of course. The beast's garnering of a temporary victory through the recruitment of the former Flash from across dimensions a karmic penalty that would be respect but could not go unpunished. Similar fates were soon cobbled together for Earth's own momentary triumph over their adversity. Needless to say, they made no true impact upon his nigh-limitless army but even the greater demon could admire their bravery. It was the same determination, after all, that led him to acquire his true path to victory.

The Bane of Velius would forever be his. With that power added to his eons-long ascension from the demonic rank and rabble he was safe even from whatever vengeance the blade's chosen owner would have for him. He could pierce through the once-impenetrable veil of his prison, rebuild his forces in a relative blink of an eye and wipe any more resistance his future home would have for him at any time and place of his choosing.

The greater demon had only two small matters to resolve. The first, of course, was to acquire the soul of the fool who had unwittingly doomed everything he knew in return for temporary satisfaction and that was a matter already ordained to be completed in less than a fortnight.

And the second, as fortune would have it, was the elimination of the joint being that had somehow proved to be more thoughtless than Bloomberg. Simply put, the both of them had to be devoid of anything possessing rhyme or reason to willingly grace his doorstep.

"We oppose your claim to The Bane of Velius," Neron dimly heard the lovers recite in a single voice. Tilting upward to take note of the pest, the greater demon calmly took in the meek frame of the half-blood that housed the soul of a common trickster. "Prepare to defend your worth."

Finding no more appropriate response, Neron laughed.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I'd wish everyone a Merry Christmas but. . . well. . . Oh, hell, like my dozens of fans don't know what's coming.

Speaking of which. . .

* * *

_Issue #115 Preview_

With the addition of two figures of the past it looks like The Misfits may have a fighting chance. On the other hand, there has to be a good reason why Neron would think that there's something to laugh about. Maybe it's the fact that Grodd's army has been annihilated save for two wayward psychotic souls or that a third of Earth's current champions are currently missing in action. Maybe there's still the simple fact that, when it comes down to it, one of those that remain will have to pull off something they'd never be able to accomplish before in order to see tomorrow. Regardless of the reasons, here's hoping that you thinks it's wise to be here in two weeks time to find out more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Breaking Old Ground. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	115. Port In A Storm

Issue #115

Port in a Storm

_The Depths of Zalera - November 1__st__ – 10:12 A.M. _

Disconcerting as it may have been, Batman reminded himself of the fact that he rarely ever had to see Jason Todd to realize when he was physically okay. The boy had always been a talker, a nearly impossible to restrain cascade of talking nineteen to the dozen that would have been impossible to stop when he was alive and doubtlessly more so now that he was dead.

"Damn. Y'know I hate to just be picking on the derpy kid like this, Gabriel," Jason observed, the confident former criminal and vigilante sounding quite content with breaking the silence once again. "Still, I was never much for school so's I never really had the chance to be a bully."

Batman cinched his teeth while his eyes continued to swim through the blinding brightness. "Be careful, Jason!" he warned desperately. "Chronos is far more dangerous than he appears!"

"Pity, pity, rancid city," Chronos mumbled to himself while dipping into the bottomless pool of time and space with an ease that even god-like entities such as Circe and Sabbac would find unsettling. Twisting the clenched fingers of a right hand as if he were twisting off the cap of a water bottle, the damaged manipulator looked on with detached interests as the oddly-garbed damned soul slowed to a pathetic crawl. The deep schism that ran along the back of his head to the tip of his spine was now completely ignored but also already on the mend, the black blood flowing through the once-fresh wound already slowing to a trickle. "The design has long passed this one by," he recognized while slowly staggering to his latest victim. "Salvation has come and long gone for this pretender, this telracs-debrag rennis."

Though he had no way of confirming his state of mind, Batman swore he could almost feel the anger and frustration being broadcast through Jason's frozen countenance. He knew his former student well, just as any good trainer would no matter how badly the former Red Hood wanted to deny it, and he the second young man to don the mantle of Robin never had a great deal of tolerance for double talk that left him confused rather than the other way around. On the other hand, the passing down of knowledge from one to another also opened up the opportunity for surprises on both sides and that was what Bruce received as he heard the _crack _of a fist slamming into an unprotected jaw, an undignified squawk exploding from Chronos's lips as he stumbled to the floor.

"Surprise again," Jason exclaimed, his unexpected retort all but immersed within his smart-aleck, knowing reply. "Got a bit of a gift from Jason Blood before I moseyed on over here," he added while raising the sleeve of his right glove to reveal the shiny bauble wrapped around the wrist. "I'm told this chronal manipulator is gonna keep me from being affected by your little tricks and, believe me, that's going to allow me to take a whole lot of advantages."

Batman overheard the sound of cracking ribs and an anguished wheeze, the previous clamor of a stern boot slamming into a fairly unprotected abdomen allowing Bruce to take a strong guess as to the progression of the unhealthy chain of events the mystery. The instinct to warn his unexpected rescuer was already translating into physical action but Chronos was far quicker. _"Damn it, Jason. Quit grandstanding!" _he would have screamed were he able to move his lips at a decent enough speed to allow the words to come out. _"End this fight, __**NOW! **__You may be protected against him but he can still slow down time for himself!"_

The unspoken message continued to go unheeded as Jason brought his right fist down squarely onto the center of Chronos's neck. The harsh meeting of bone-on-bone sent the time traveler crashing face-first to the ground where he remained as Jason moved to fetch a dagger from a scabbard strapped to his left hip. It was wickedly sharp and crafted with a series of serpent curves, a particular type of dagger he had made infamous throughout his messy climb through the ranks of the Gotham underworld. Now, however, it was an ideal weapon for removing a poor fool's head off his shoulders and bringing the fight to a quick and necessary end. In spite of this, the killing blow came both a second and an eternity too late as Gabriel pushed himself away with an awkward forward roll.

"Shit!" Jason abruptly spat out, his powerful shoulder muscles bristling as he realized what had happened. Bright enough to recognize the change in circumstance, he quickly brought up his blade in a frontal guard as taught to him by Talia Al-Ghul. It was a stance designed for quick stabs and thrusts, maneuvers designed to cut off and disorient a foe that dwarfed you in strength or, in this case, speed.

The idea was a sound in theory and sensible in experimentation as he caught Chronos coming at him from his blindside. Flexing the tricep side of his wrist as his sharp blade hit home, he managed to stick the bowed blade a good ways into his opponent's right eye but the consequences were steep. The move left him largely defenseless and more than open for attack as Chronos slammed the broken base of a stalagmite into the right side of his skull, the speed of the impact leaving even his death-inspired constitution at a loss to recover. Diving down to his knees in an effort to acquire a more even ground, it took a third of a second too long for Batman's former protégé to realize that he had played right into the hands of his foe. He managed to get himself to one knee but all that changed was the vantage point of his pain as Chronos rammed the sharp rock through Jason's latissimus dorsi. The squelch of bone and organs struggling to steer clear of from the impeding force remained until Chronos had punched the makeshift spike through Jason's chest but the screaming stayed around for far longer.

"JASON!" Batman roared, the detective plagued by the horrific scream of a former comrade while being left to merely guess as to what had exactly happened. His vision remained little more than a discordant field of relevant globs of color, the dense black splotch serving as the plinth at the center of the room, the bright green being Chronos's tunic, and the collage of blacks and reds serving as where Jason lay on the ground, bawling and bleeding. The old injuries along his spine played a raucous tune as Gabriel seemed to stoop down and pick up a glint of silver that Bruce could only guess to be one of Jason's old daggers.

On most occasions, such rampant confusion would have left The Dark Knight of Gotham City to ponder over the wisdom of his actions before he brought them into form.

On the other hand, it wasn't very often when one of his own, particularly one he had failed before, was in danger. It was that overwhelming intuition that spurred Bruce to push back his pain and bring Chronos down with a flying tackle. Physical fatigue and injury put a distinct damper on the efficacy of his work, so much so that the much smaller Gabriel was barely forced to the ground while Batman was all but forced to lay prone on his back in response to the recoil of the impact.

"Then again, what use is there in burning a forgotten tome?" Chronos asked aloud to no one in particular as he gazed down at the two downed vigilantes. "'Tis better to start by defiling what is hated in the present time."

"NO!" Jason managed to scream out through his blood-soaked trapping. "Go after me, you psychotic son of a bitch! Come on! I'm right here!"

It was a blissful second in Jason's dead heart when Chronos gave him a glimmer of attention but the anticipation soon became a bitter pill to swallow as the tranquil servant of Neron almost immediately turned his attentions back to Batman. He knew that the old man had passed out in agony and there wasn't any other way he could think of to stop Gabriel from claiming his prize. That is, unless Chronos simply chose to listlessly drop the dagger to the cave floor, the stern metal of the blade ringing off the rock in the surrounding silence. The few flickers of life that remained in Walker Gabriel's eyes seemed to be extinguished altogether until the former Secret Society member seemed to be nothing more than a blank slate, reduced to nothing more than something to once again be used by someone with the bravery and inclination to do so.

"Injudicious mouth breather," snarled a quietly furious Gorilla Grodd as he slowly rose back onto his lacerated, blood-drenched legs. "You forced me to travel to your realm of expertise and now you'll take a voyage to mine!"

The breathless silence that Walker Gabriel offered in response clearly told the tale of a one-sided battle. The results were a pleasing spectacle, at least as far as the intelligent beast was concerned judging from the smirk that soon lined Grodd's lips. "I believe that the liberation of the Gaia Battlers from Neron's sway is long overdue," the shaggy mastermind noted while paying greater attention to injuries that weren't his own. "Are you good enough to move, Mister Todd?"

Jason could only offer a fairly affirming grunt in response, the bulk of his attentions directed towards separating himself from the three-foot-long shard of rock that remained embedded through his chest and spinal column. "Never felt _yuuuuugh_ better," he eventually grumbled back as best he could upon removing the tip of the makeshift weapon from his chest. The odd exhalation was brought upon as the dead vigilante struggled to make his way over to Bruce's side. His hands, cautious as they may have been, were easily ahead of the rest of his body as he hastily grasped Batman by the sides of his head and administered a couple of light, quick slaps to the face. The slight impacts were enough to awaken the exhausted warrior and a quick peek at the man's ice-blue eyes provided Jason some sound confirmation that whatever damage the flash bomb had done was all but gone.

"You. . . you okay there, old man?" the former Red Hood asked, the street-smart vigilante determined to sound brusque and unconcerned. "Come on, you damn bat. Say somethin'!"

Jason knew that there were a number of different reactions that Bruce could bring to the table under the unusual circumstances. An exhalation of deep, hoarse laughter, however, was hardly what he was expecting.

"You. . . you look ridiculous."

The blind, burgeoning anger that killed him twice over threatened to bubble to the surface once again as Jason screwed up his lips but the gentle half-smirk he received in return eventually prompted him to chuckle as well. Looking down at his messy torso, he briefly grazed over the threadbare state of the yellow-and-red chain mail and noted that the black blood that stained it may very well have been an improvement to the wretched color scheme.

"Sorry, boss," Jason contritely replied in the face of his ruined Robin uniform. "Didn't think I'd get myself messed up before you could see it."

* * *

The fused form of Kara Zor-el and Lloyd Thomas tilted its head to one side, a Cheshire-cat smile sizing up what may very well have been a foolishly brave mouse. "You think this is funny," the dual voices noted in the face of Neron's bold countenance. "Well, I suppose that such a frame of mind is as good as any when it comes to facing your extinction."

Considering that the words were broadcast by a monstrosity that had easily defeated the likes of Kal-L, Parallax, and Superboy Prime, perhaps some may have considered it shocking that Neron's lone reaction was to broaden his smirk just a hint higher. His handsome countenance, emphasized by broad, distinguished cheekbones and a pointed jaw worthy of a 1950s film icon, was just a portion of this rare breed of beast who could goad lesser beings through damnation at his merest beck and call. Though he was able to change his appearance at the briefest of whims, the greater demon maintained the image passed down by the bulk of the countless souls he had claimed throughout the eons. His white hair, spackled with grey, was short and closely cropped in order to bring out the cool contrast in his black, pupiless eyes. His garments did shift as he strode forward though, the forest-green tunic and brown pants meant to serve as a mockery of his adversaries quickly altering into cold, black armor that seemed more worthy of the eventual inheritor of all that lived and sinned.

"You seek to intimidate the very genesis of your trickery," the demon noted, the long, fine fingers of his right hand grazing against his cheek as he did so. "Human and half-blood, you know as well as I that the Knock'tlarr fusion chant requires two beings of equal or closely matched power. And, given that my avatar of heresy has kindly seen to the exodus of Za'hafal-nesh from the magician, it would only stand to mean that the capacities of the weaker half of this puzzle would be limited at best. Thus, it only stands to reason that the efficacy of Mister Thomas's spell would be diminished as well."

The fused warrior surged forward instantaneously, its right fist set to cave in Neron's skull before it was sternly met by the demon's left palm. The surrounding stone trembled in the wake of the shockwave that arose from the collision and some of the magma underneath the palace managed to pry itself from the cracks but both fighters remained still in the midst of the aftermath.

"Case in point," Neron replied, each of his words serving as a slow, measured, offering of interpretation before he ended the stalemate with an impossibly fast backhand that landed squarely against the left side of his opponent's skull. Despite his distinct advantage, however, the self-styled Lord of Lies felt a measure of respect when he noticed his opponent quickly restoring themselves with a series of timely teleportations that kept them from crashing through the walls of the expansive central chamber of his palace that served as their battleground. He casually procured The Bane of Velius while casting such unnecessary platitudes aside, the black scimitar pulsing feverishly in the grip of a creature who deserved to wield both the blade and the power that lay within it.

"Is this the prize you seek, pups?" asked Neron, his suddenly portly, aged frame shifting from the kindly features of Mao Tenryu to the cold, noble countenance of Zor-el before once again yielding to the demon's natural state. "Then come and fetch it."

The mingled powerhouse was quick to oblige as Kara pushed their shared body forward, her lover's borrowed blade clutched in her firm, right hand. Her crimson eyes glowing hot in the midst of her fury, it was a credit to the her own deceitful nature when they were able to burst through Neron's defenses with a hastily-made solar flare that left even the master of maleficium at a rush to catch up. The mystic blades were soon clashing in furious combat, the flares of eldritch energy pulsing from the surrounding destruction as the usurpers attempted to press their slight advantage in the quest to find an opening. Like prize fighters who had long learned the penalties of overindulgence, the champions continued to see each other out, their shared telepathic abilities and experience with swordplay literally clashing against each other as they each sought an opening that would only arrive at a later time.

"Do not be mistaken, children. I certainly admire your search for the right of judgment," Neron admitted after the greater demon had fought his way to another impasse, his eyes and attentions once again as sharp as the blade held firmly in front of his chest. "You take on the challenge of rewarding others for their imperfections while punishing those committing similar transgressions. Your hearts scream for a life of solitude, an existence free of the burdens forced upon the both of you before you knew they were yours to bear and yet you carry on a battle that should be fought by thousands more than your own meager numbers."

A flicker in time and Neron was then standing behind his adversary.

"I used to share your struggle, yon unfortunate brood," the demon offered in concession, the weaver of wishes allowing a cold smirk to emerge on his lips when the fused warrior resisted the urge to rise to his bait and turn around. "As such, I will take great care upon adding your destinies onto me so long as you refrain from thinking that this is a battle you can win. This kingdom, once my prison, is now my playground to craft and mold at my leisure."

The Bane of Velius let out another wicked pulse and the ornate, black palace that served as the apex of Neron's sinister majesty was annihilated in an outburst of fire and magma. Demonic artifacts gathered over a portion of history that easily eclipsed the reign of humanity were withered to nothingness in an instant and the fused form of Kara and Lloyd could only claim the odd fortune of witnessing the majestic obliteration. It was an odd signal that the battle had begun once more but that was all that was offered and the two champions prepared themselves as Neron streamed his body through dozens of movement shifts and teleportations until the greater demon appeared to be nothing more than a black flicker that looked as if it could pick apart its quarry as it chose. Pain exploded in Kara's gut and ricocheted through Lloyd's mind as Neron's stolen instrument sliced through the right side of their abdomen. A desperate blaze of white-hot energy was barely enough to save the fused warrior from being cleaved in half but the following counter was quick and decisive as Lloyd performed a masterful display of telekinesis that brought hundreds of tons of rock bearing down on Neron from all sides. What enormous slabs of stone and volcanic emissions that could not be deflected through his own telepathy were cast aside by The Bane, its unbreakable constitution serving the greater demon well as it cleaved aside some of the largest weapons at Kara and Lloyd's current disposal.

Seeing their advantage, Kara and Lloyd hurtled through the chaos with the _Mugalshir _held at the forefront. The mystic saber was merely inches away from digging through the smooth musculature of Neron's neck before a timely cross block edged the silver blade aside. The scorching battleground continued to degrade as the encounter regained its former fury, the flurry of lashes, blocks, slashes, and dodges leaving Earth's champion to rely on Kara's natural agility and Lloyd's swordsmanship to wrest away the mere right for survival against their infinitely more experienced foe. Scarlet beams of heat vision began to tint the bright theater of war along with the purplish-black darts of hellish energy that eventually began to worm their way through their defenses until both the Brit and the half-Kryptonian agreed to seek a safer ground.

Now 50 yards and a heartbeat away from his desperate opponent, Neron allowed himself another self-satisfied grin. "Only minutes have passed and yet you already begin to grow weary and uncertain," the greater demon whispered. "At least now you see the wisdom of your once and future ruler, children. Now you shall understand your true purpose amidst the memories of all your temporary triumphs."

"What are you going on about?" the dual voice roared back, the coarse, West London-tones clearly revealing who was behind the retort. "We see the battlefield just as well as you. You've lost control of the Gaia Battlers, the majority of your most powerful soldiers have already fallen or are on the verge of doing so and soon the rightful owner of The Bane of Velius shall be free."

Another rumble of laughter slipped from Neron's lips as the greater demon transformed once again as he adopted a familiar figure that drew an involuntary gasp from his tired opponent.

"There is something greater going on here, my children," Neron reminded his company while in the guise of Bruce Wayne, the dark knight's familiar, blue-and-black armor looking quite appropriate under the dismal circumstances. "The Battlers can be returned to my command at any time and every worthless flesh bag that has been destroyed for my greater cause can easily be replaced. Other things, like the lives of your comrades and the meager resistance Grodd had assembled to oppose me, cannot be so easily restored."

Neron allowed himself a bit of dramatic presentation as he pointed the blade at his defiant adversary. "You realize it now, don't you?" he asked with a thin tinge of pity. "Now you recognize that this entire presentation was crafted to tempt the two of you, the force that laid low fear and death itself to paraphrase your own words, into the cage you now see around you. Soon your corpses will lie at my feet and the mortal realm's greatest chance for salvation from its self-inflicted damnation shall be no more. I will then employ the remainder of my time before acquiring the boy's soul to rebuild my army and eliminate everything the both of you desired to protect and not even The Demon King himself will have the power to stop me."

Kara and Lloyd rushed forward, joined as they ever were, but their fused body was easily forced aside by a vicious backhand that sent them skipping across the lava before their physical frame collided into the western wall.

"I shall remake the wretched world above into a sovereignty of sin such that not even the gods themselves shall wish to intervene. The galaxies are lined with dozens of such kingdoms that your so-called galactic police allow to run free for fear of drawing too many enemies to their ignoble cause," Neron continued on, seemingly unfazed, as Kara struggled to rise back to her feet and Lloyd attempted to gather as much energy as he could to prepare for whatever was to come. "Whether they hail from Earth, Krypton, Praxis or anywhere else, it has always been a mortal's curse to believe that so much revolves around them. This began long before Bloomberg involuntarily pledged his soul to me. This is my rightful inheritance, my legacy for countless years of being knuckled under by fate and illogical design!"

The greater demon's dark homily was cut short by the hissing burn of hundreds upon hundreds of white-hot energy bolts, the eldritch machinations each a mixture of Praxian magic and sorcery drawn from some of the eldest demons to ever walk the planet Earth. Observing the scene in the fraction of a second he had, Neron looked upon the majesty and smiled before allowing The Bane of Velius to fall from his hands. The attacks converged upon him but all were met by the black blade, its already immense power and influence now further blessed by a master of telekinesis and temporal manipulation. Emerging from the cacophony unscathed, Neron looked upon his doomed quarry with another dose of cold kindness.

"Do not fear, children. The both of you shall soon earn your birthright as well. A shared one just as your hearts have craved for longer than either of you can remember. You will be the last, great champions of a failed experiment gratefully swept away by the unending tides of history."

* * *

Hunter Zolomon did not inherit his newfound mantle merely through the aid of dramatic exaggeration. While he lacked the documented history and accrued body count to keep on track with some of the most noted murderers in history, the speedster made up for it with the quality of his violence and a mindset that could only dwell from a truly damaged soul. His sadism held a sick but noble intention that managed to keep him sustained even after his gruesome departure from the land of the living and, as such, he remains to be a dangerous foe for all those who are unwillingly forced to learn the lessons he wished to teach. Likewise, Eobard Thawne's voracious thirst for inflicting pain upon anything relating to Barry Allen, his former idol, made him a desperately dangerous foe to anyone who wished to take up arms against him.

That being said, it soon became quite apparent that Barry Allen had not received the message of how frightened for his fate he should have been. Promptly proving why he was once known as The Fastest Man Alive, the former police officer and Justice League founder chose to take in The Speed Force, the unlimited reservoir of kinetic energy that had served as the home of his soul for nearly a decade, and displayed it with a mastery that the golden-garbed speedsters could not have hoped to match. He weaved around their attacks with all the ease of a fly escaping the swash of an elephant's tail, the smarmy, All-American smile that lined his handsome face shining brightly as the frustration of his foes mounted with every miss. Then, after hundreds of failed attempts and the half-minute that came with the futility, the former Flash tired of the game and sent the second Zoom down to the ground with a vicious right hook before upending the original with a body blow/hook/uppercut combination whose combined impact shook the roof of Queklain itself.

"What madness is this?" Thawne growled back, his words somewhat muffled by the black blood forcing its way up through the cracked vessels beneath his lower lip. "You could have only acquired a physical body at the same time as I had! There's no way that you should have retained so much of your power!"

Ever the gentlemen, Barry was kind enough to allow his wife's murderer to leap back to his feet before knocking Thawne back down on his ass with another right hook to the jaw.

"What can I say, Eobard? I guess I just can't disappoint my fans. I knew you wouldn't have liked it if I didn't bring my best."

Fifty feet and a thousand miles away from the fray, Wally could only look on as his uncle waited patiently for their shared opponents. He could do nothing but look on, in fact, as Barry took down the two Zooms with as much efficiency as before, the young father finding himself torn between the unique schism of fear and pride.

_This is what I've inherited_, he couldn't help but think as Barry steered his two determined foes to crash into one another. _This is who I have to compare myself to, every day, and wonder if I can ever come close to being that good_.

Finding himself mildly alarmed when he noticed that Thawne had kept his feet and looked to have an advantage, Wally was allowed to curse his own foolishness when Barry countered the blindside assault with a spinning back fist that was clearly taken from the playbook of a certain masked, pointy-eared mutual acquaintance.

_This is what Clark and Diana were seeing every day I showed up at The Watchtower since he died. This is what Bruce is still seeing._

"Hey, Flash. Are you going to take a shot at this kettle of fish or not?"

The good-humored tone was enough to snap Wally back to attention. It took a moment more for the younger of the two speedsters to take in the almost casual encouragement his uncle was so willing to give to him even in the midst of the horrors around him.

Then he took a deep breath.

Then he ran because that is what The Flash does. That is what _he _does.

He thought of his Aunt Iris as he slammed his fists sideways into Eobard Thawne's gut, the impact of the Wushu-style strike sending the first Reverse Flash crashing into the southern wall and sending the black tendrils of Queklain scurrying for cover. He took his time before rising back to his full height, the Misfit allowing more than enough of a window to allow his uncle to leap over him in order to take down the oncoming Hunter Zolomon with a rolling arm drag that sent the other Zoom crashing into the opposite wall. Hearing a sharp intake of breath from his back, Wally hastily swerved around to see that Thawne had taken advantage and tackled Barry to the ground, the longtime figurehead in his nightmares greedily ensnaring his uncle's head within the merciless grip of his trembling hands. The Flash could feel the sudden roar of kinetic energy, the sign that the killer was attempting to shuffle Barry back to the Speed Force through the same kind of hypervibration of molecules that had allowed him to bring his family into hiding over three years ago, and quickly brought an end to an attempt with a stiff kick to the head.

"Gotta mind yourself, old man," Wally cautioned while helping Barry back to his feet. "Something tells me you might still be a little rusty at all of this."

"Well, it's been a long time since I actually got to punch somebody," Barry offered back, the elder of the scarlet-garbed speed merchants casually tossing the words over his shoulder as he stood back-to-back with his former junior partner. "By the way, I left the devil kid down on one of the lower floors. Figured that even the other parts of Queklain would be a little safer than what's going on here."

As protective as he could have been, even Wally found that he had to give pause towards the idea of complaining while in the center of the golden whirlwind that suddenly sprung up before his eyes. "Yeah, I can definitely see that," he inevitably replied, a smirk on his bruised lips despite the maelstrom of kinetic energy around him. Zolomon was the first to break free from the kinetic tempest, just as Wally had expected, and it was only an instant before he was once again going toe-to-toe with his increasingly impatient adversary.

"All right, you've got your opportunity now, Wallace," said Barry, his calm words somehow managing to ring out over the noisy combat and the squall being kicked up as Thawne circled around them at 10 times the speed of sound. "This isn't about proving yourself to somebody else anymore. This is about proving _yourself _wrong! You keep trying to convince yourself that you don't deserve all the great things you've received well now's the chance to prove that you do!"

The Flash's green eyes transformed into pools of gold as Wally allowed The Speed Force to sink into him, the increased intensity of the combat sending out crackles of golden lightning that shrank away the sinister tendrils of the imposing fortress. He weathered the stiff left hook that breached his defenses and stood tall, his jaw set and his will unrelenting as Hunter Zolomon offered the same fortitude in return.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the two opposing champions, Barry brought the unnatural uproar to a stop by crossing into Thawne's path and taking the mad doctor down with a vicious chop block. Recovering himself before the time traveler could reach his own feet, the first Flash of Earth-1 locked Thawne's neck into a chokehold taught to him during his very first week at the police academy. Bringing the training Bruce had impressed upon him after a handful of humiliating sparring sessions, he transformed the cobra-clutch style maneuver into a trapping grip designed to place pressure on the carotid artery. It wasn't nearly enough to fully incapacitate a powerhouse like Thawne but it would, at minimum, keep him out of the fight.

"Oh no. Nononono, you're going to watch, you son of a bitch!" Barry sneered into Thawne's right ear as his wife's killer struggled to worm his way free. "Our battle's long done and now we're finally going to see who came out on the winning end."

* * *

Arthur Light desperately wished to see the loathsome, little bitch as she continued to lay into him with one punishing shot after the other. The sight of her slight breasts heaving with every twist of her shoulders and her viciously tempting smile as she tore him apart would have been nothing short of a divine blessing but she wouldn't even offer him that. Instead he received a neural slideshow depicting some of his father's most ruthless ministrations that he couldn't turn away from even as his eyes were torn and ripped from their sockets. The humiliations continued to pile on with humiliating defeats from one delinquent child after the other, insult upon insult, whose physical and psychological scarring giddily lingered even after the girl had simply chosen to leave him to his suffering.

Stephanie Brown was a horror. She was a monstrous, splendorous nightmare that inflamed every portion of his paraphilic tendencies. Her every quality, physical or intellectual, seemed to suddenly represent everything he could never receive from life, the things he had always tried to steal or deny from others. He relished the pain he brought upon Sue Dibny and dozens of others and felt rage when those smarmy hypocrites grinded his mind down, transforming into some idiotic clown assigned to be beaten down by children who could never appreciate everything he could teach them. He had found his purpose in broiling alive the plebians and everyday souls of Star City as their own pathetic, little worlds crashed down around them and felt fear when Bruce Wayne, a man who had _everything_, thought it to be his duty to take it all away.

This was why he wished to acquire his revenge through the girl. He wanted to blot out a kind of light that he would have never known, something he could never find even if he strived to take it. His failure to get the job done took a firm hold of his vile reservoir of self-hatred and sent it rocketing to the surface, the avatar of lust keening as he let loose an enormous burst of black light that melted away even the surrounding walls of solid rock for nearly a hundred yards. The explosion of electromagnetic energy raised a horrific cacophony that mercifully managed to drown out the childish screams that plagued his ears and, damned as it was, the peace that came from it was nothing short of a blessing.

"Nummy," rose the voice of the devil herself, the girl wrapped in black, orange and bathed in green absolutely unfazed by his act of desperation. "Gee, Arthur. That whole light absorption thing is a neat trick. I'll have to find something a bit more appetizing the next time I give it a shot."

Whatever was left of Arthur Light's heart shattered in the midst of his futility. A minute, desperate part of him wanted to rail at the unending egotism that dominated the expressions of the little hellion but he could no longer work up the courage for even that. He merely sat on the base of the emerald force bubble provided to him, shaking quietly as the foul temptress stooped to sit beside him.

"I think I've finally figured you out," the beast said quietly, her little arms pushing up at her knees until she could easily wrap her upper limbs around her lower ones. "I mean, yeah, most of all of this is just because you're just a douche bag of biblical proportions but at least now I can see why it all went this far."

Arthur shuddered as he felt warm, gentle fingers brush against his scalded right shoulder. His eyes had already been restored to him but he couldn't dare to observe the gesture of kindness. It was a gesture surrounded by virgin ground that he couldn't even think to traverse.

"There is one thing that we've got in common, sicko. We both want a lot more out of life than what people are willing to give us. Hell, I know I don't deserve all I've already got but I'm not going to complain too much about it," the demon glumly admitted. "When I was a kid, I dreamed about being a superhero while the real world was just happy to pass me by. And why shouldn't it? I mean, I was just some little kid on the bottom end of the genetic ladder who was more conditioned to pick up welfare checks and spit out babies than do anything useful. That's probably who I should've been."

Had he the courage to look his adversary in the eyes, Doctor Light would have noticed the sullen expression that poked its way through Stephanie's shell as she retracted her energy claws and toned down the emerald sheen around her tiny frame. Deprived of the nerve, he could only wait and fret as the Green Lantern briefly considered her surroundings with an almost casual air before rising back to her feet.

"Looking at you, it makes me wonder what I would have turned into if I didn't have people like Bruce and Lloyd and Tim in my life. Now, I grant you that I sometimes tend to turn a deaf ear to 'em but they were the ones who took the time to teach me that you had to work to get what you deserved." Curious to see the response, Stephanie stooped down to look at Arthur Light, eye-to-eye, but became quickly impassive upon noticing that the monster had already turned away.

"And you wanna know a secret, Arthur?" she whispered, her puckered lips now inches away from Light's ears. "A part of me hates it whenever I get a lecture or a cuff to the back of the head or one of those constipated looks of theirs but I adore them. It means more to me than anything in this world because, without them, I never would have realized that I deserve this ring on my finger and everything that comes with it."

It was a simple matter for Robin to push down on Light's chest so that the inert servant of Neron was forced to lie on his back. The predatory smile returned as she gently placed the weight of her hips down onto the monster's stomach, her far superior strength allowing her to easily twist around the feeble attempts the living corpse made to push her off.

"And I _will _get what I want, you sick son of a bitch," the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns hissed through gritted teeth. "I want the loving family and a life with meaning and someone to love me through my darkest days and there's nobody that can stop me from getting it. Not you, not Neron, not me, not anybody!"

The undiluted panic that couldn't pry its way through the silence before finally managed to pull itself free as Robin clamped her right hand firmly down onto Light's dry, ashen forehead. The dead man's flailing became far more fervent but just as hopeless as Stephanie slid the curves of her ass against his crotch

"Do you know what I want right now though?" asked the eldritch-powered warrior woman, the hunger in her stare clearly indicating that she couldn't care less about how Arthur Light would respond. "Just a little. . . bitty. . . kiss."

The soft pressing of lips was the most tender gesture that the rapist of dozens and the murderer of scores more had received since he was a child and that thought alone was more than enough to undo him. He lay transfixed as Stephanie coerced him into opening his lips and didn't even scream as the girl fastened his tongue between her teeth. His joy gave way to alarm, however, as the glorious light before his eyes began to flicker and dim like a sputtering candle buffeted by the wind.

Or was it his eyes that were unable to focus on the wonder? So much of him was fading away that it was no longer possible to tell.

As for Stephanie, she held the kiss for nearly a minute, a space of time almost twice as long as her victim was able to stay with her. Not even feeling the urge to shudder in response to the vulgar display, Robin craned her neck to take in the seemingly endless heights above her. As bleak a tableau as it was, the certainty found within it was quite soothing and seemingly appropriate it as she slowly exhaled a thick, black mist from her lips. Propelling the last vestiges of the dark magic that Neron had employed to give life back to Arthur Light into the emptiness above, she made certain to release a long, clearing sigh as she observed the shadowy vapor fading from existence. Then, looking back to the bottom of the barrier that protected her from falling into the seemingly endless abyss below, she raised an eyebrow at her unfortunate passenger.

"Boy. Something tells me that my soul is going to need a Clorets after that."

As one should hope, the lifeless husk of Arthur Light had no way of disagreeing.

* * *

The familiar, coppery tinge of his blood was becoming quite familiar to The Flash and he had the unfortunate privilege of revisiting the feeling as Zolomon broke through his defenses with a straight jab that cut open his bottom lip. Fortifying his guard while focusing through the pain, Wally managed to eliminate whatever advantage his old friend could have gained with a quick sidestep and soon the two were on even ground again. By now, even the enhanced metabolism offered by The Speed Force wasn't enough to hide the physical toll that both fighters had endured, the wounds suffered from the handfuls of successful strikes taking longer to recover from than when the battle had begun.

On the other hand, the fact remained that Zolomon not only had Neron's magic to draw from but also lacked the fatigue that had been stacking upon Wally's tired frame for the last several hours. As determined as he was, the tremendous feats the young father was forced to endure in order to reach his present destination were too draining to ignore at this late stage of the game. The penalties showed themselves frequently as some of Zolomon's punches that shouldn't have landed did while some of the knee strikes and toe kicks that Wally had often used to his advantage in times like these proved to be just a sliver of a second too slow.

"It's striking home again, isn't it?" Zolomon noted with a knowing sneer. "You know you can't win. You should have never forgotten it, old friend. I was The Fastest Man Alive until that grizzled old bastard kept you from your appointment in hell!"

The current Reverse Flash was all too happy to remind The Flash of his dilemma by bulling past a kick to the gut and sending his bloodied adversary tumbling head over heels with a shoulder tackle. The brutish maneuver left Zolomon on his feet while Wally momentarily lay sprawl on the lower half of his legs and the former criminologist was quick to capitalize the sudden height advantage. He rained stomp after stomp down on the defenseless limbs, many of the brutal downward attacks missing while inches while some managed to glance off The Flash's limbs with the force of a shotgun blast. Providing a toothy smile when one particularly stiff boot left Wally to stumble onto all fours, Zolomon leapt onto the hero's back and grabbed his chin with both hands. The hold was cinched in perfectly, so much so that it would have only taken a tenth of a second for Zoom to snap Wally's neck as he had in Germany nearly three years ago.

_CLICK!_

And then came the new development as Zolomon felt an odd bit of metal surrounding his right wrist. Distracted by the unexpected circumstance, he lost his grip on Wally's neck and felt himself being dragged along by the young father as Wally quickly tumbled back to his feet. Now standing eye-to-eye with his adversary, the new vantage point allowed Hunter to see the chain that now linked the two of them together.

_Handcuffs, _Zoom seethed. _He somehow has the hypocritical nerve to use handcuffs?_

"Yeah, you are the better speedster, Hunter," Wally confessed, the blood cropped along his nostrils and lips muffling his voice if not his sense of satisfaction. "But this isn't going to be determined by our feet. This is going to be about heart."

Ever the fan of irony, The Flash punctuated his claim by slamming his right fist into the center of Zoom's chest with the force of a sledgehammer. The lance of pain that jabbed into his left wrist as he was carried by Zolomon's backwards stumbling wasn't very welcomed but Wally didn't shy his senses away from it. He didn't let himself be beaten by that or the powerful left jab that threatened to cave in his rib cage or the dozens of other blows that seemed to eat away at both his body and soul as he traded punches with Neron's chosen avatar of violence.

_And that's all he is now, _Wally couldn't help but realize as the combat escalated to an even greater degree of speed and ferocity. _He isn't a friend or a rival or even somebody I might be able to save. He's just a monster serving someone else's purpose. I have to think that way if I want to win. I'll never see my children again if I don't win this. I'll never see Linda. I'll never have a chance to thank them for finding a reason to share their lives with mine. _

His nose shattered on the next punch Zolomon landed, the force of the vicious hook enough to push back nearly a half-dozen shards of the sharp cartilage along the bridge of his nose so that they weaved through an aperture in the skull and pierced his forebrain. The potentially traumatic energy prompted misdirected blood to suddenly stream from his ears but the odd feeling was irrelevant. The pain had no meaning.

_I want to see Jai's first day at school_. _I'm going to bother Bruce until he teaches me how to glare like him and then I'm gonna use it when some punk shows up at my house saying that he's taking my daughter out on a date. _

He couldn't hold back a scream as Zoom landed another punch, this one so violent that it not only shattered two of his lower ribs to powder but was also enough to force the knuckle through a good portion of his stomach. A bomb may as well have exploded along his spinal column and the jarring damage only worsened as Zolomon began to vibrate his molecules, his fingers pushing and worming his way in further to expand the wound.

_I have to be just as violent as he is._

"I'm the one that lost everything I could ever have!" Zolomon roared, his blood-red eyes streaked with Neron's black light. "That is what will always make me stronger, faster, _better_ than you'll ever be!"

The conjoined howl of two former colleagues ripped through the gloom of Queklain as Wally gathered his strength and threw his right hand forward as hard as he could into and through Zolomon's sternum. At once he felt the revolting sensation of cold, dead blood digging into his hand but the young father kept going, his fingers shaking violently as they sliced through the valves and ventricles around Zoom's blackened heart. The seconds were long and agonizing but the race had already gone along for far too long for either of them to stop now, the two rivals channeling and expelling the kinetic energy flowing through their veins. Their bodies were wrapped within a nimbus of golden energy stemming straight from The Speed Force itself, the luster so bright that it dwarfed the purplish-black mist that continued to rise from Zoom's chest even after the former Rogue and Secret Society member began to wither and his bony hand slipped free from Wally's gut.

_You were right about one thing, Hunter, _Wally ruminated while falling to his knees. _I still had something I could lose. _Utterly exhausted, not even the putrid stench of Zolomon's ashen remains was enough to coerce him into rising up from the ground as he fell face first to the tower floor. His nose still too fractured to properly draw air, the speedster used the last bit of his strength to roll onto his back, the stale air surrounding him providing enough relief for him to shut his eyes.

_That's why I won._

* * *

The ruins of Neron's palace continued to crumble as the three mystically empowered warriors that remained there took note of all that was going around them. Unmoving as the fractured portions of a stone column rattled off of their force barrier, Kara and Lloyd examined the work of their colleagues through their mutual and magnified awareness. A wave of relief passed over them both, the recognition that things could have gone far worse allowing for a weighty burden to be lifted off of their wrought, metaphorical shoulders. Neron, on the other hand, remained impassive as he stared down his invited guests, the greater demon betraying no anger or frustration in the midst of the unfortunate reports.

"Are you still feeling so confident about your legacy?" Kara and Lloyd asked Neron through one voice, the narrow notes of amiability within the sneering inquiry enough to draw a look of hatred from their mighty adversary. "Now it's all but certain that The Demon King will be freed from his bonds."

Neron offered back a sneer and a snort. "You place far too much confidence within your chosen savior, children," he countered with a beguiling smile as he whirled the black blade in his right hand back to a proper defensive position. "I defeated the former holder of this bauble in single combat before and I shall do so again. The trump card, as you humans would put it, still remains firmly in my grasp."

Kara tilted her head slightly to the right, just as Lloyd would when he believed his foe had just said something impossibly stupid. "Is that right now?" she asked while her lover busied himself with more important matters. "Well, let's see what we can do about that particular arrangement."

Her knowledge of swordplay was limited at best, particularly in comparison to the litany of knowledge held by the eons-old greater demon but instinct and reflexes allowed Kara to keep up the blade-to-blade combat for as long as she needed to. Backing away only a fraction of a second after Lloyd's prompting, The Last Daughter of Krypton felt the tingling in her arms as her splayed hands were awash with a supernatural light that burned as hot as the sun itself. The piercing flare did little damage to Neron on a whole but it was enough to distract the immortal trickster and allow her to wrap both her hands around the hilt of the _Mugalshir. _Swinging with just the precise balance of precision and strength, she severed Neron's right arm straight from its shoulder and took comfort in the roar of pain that resulted before she and Lloyd were awash with a dose of paralyzing pain themselves. Dropping the gleaming, silver saber into the magma below, Kara was forced to the whims of her instincts as she began to bat her hands against the reddish-black flames that engulfed her body.

"Misbegotten fools!" Kara just managed to hear Neron bellow back, the vast bulk of her energy far more focused with the task of staying alive. "What do you think you've gained from squandering so much of your waning energy? All that remains now is for me to retrieve The Bane of Velius and then I shall finish you at my leisure."

Still caught up in her recovery, Kara couldn't help but steer her body to where she could see Neron again, her still-mottled vision allowing her to spot the lord of lies as he descended to what was once the sterling surface of his seat of power. As much as it pained her to focus that much energy on a single, unnecessary task with her charred flesh peeling and her muscles struggling to maintain any sense of functioning, it was quite worth it to see the aggravation on the demon's face only moments after he crashed into a crimson force barrier, the impact of demonic flesh against ancient magic resulting in a loud _BONG_ that sounded surprisingly pleasant to her ears.

"This was your strategy? To employ a Cytorrakian shield charm to keep the both of us trapped away from the spoils of the victor?" Neron couldn't help but ask, the overlord of the nether realms sounding almost saddened by the revelation. "Perhaps the absence of Za'hafal-nesh may be somewhat to blame but the magician should have remembered that such an enchantment only works for as long as the caster is able to maintain it. You will be trapped within this barrier until I choose to break the charm by killing its caster and the sole opportunity you had at wresting The Bane of Velius is dead and gone."

Once again, Kara felt the need to overcome her lingering agony in order to express herself once again, this time with a simple question.

"Who ever said anything about _us _getting the blade?"

The last, great savior of the mortal world had looked on with vast interest as the battle between Kara, Lloyd, and Neron rose to a feverish pitch. He waited patiently amidst the ruins, hidden from view, while awaiting the moment when he would need to emerge and strut his stuff. Finally it happened and, much as it hurt to see the fused champions in such a sorry state, a roguish smile lingered onto the champion's lips as The Bane of Velius fell to what remained of the floor.

"Well, first a magic gun and now a cool devil sword," Roy Harper observed while clambering forward to reach his newfound prize. "It's like my birthday or somethin'!"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You know, a part of me would like to apologize that this took a bit longer to pull through than I had expected. I mean, granted, I've cranked out nearly 20,000 words worth of material in the span of less than three weeks but the fact remains that I was hoping to get this done sooner.

Hell, I'd just get bored if I didn't devote so much of my creativity and effort to this enterprise. . . no, wait, I've got a full-time job, several volunteer positions and an increasingly active social calendar.

Well, there's also the matter that so much of my livelihood is depending on whether or not I get this story published on time. . . oh, wait, I don't get paid to do this.

No, wait! My fans! My legions of fans that have supported me throughout the years! After all, not a day goes by when I'm not deluged with kind words and thanks for cobbling together this massive slab of literary piffle that has provided countless hours of entertainment for so many . . .

(Observes his stats page and sees 10,427 hits over the course of December and the 24 reviews that came with them from approximately 11 people)

Okay. . . exactly why should I be in so much of a hurry to get these things out? I mean, it's not like I don't already know how it's going to end, for Ra's sake!

Speaking of which. . .

* * *

_Issue #116 Preview_

So the fate of Earth and its nether dimensions is now placed firmly in the hands of a weed-smoking, booze-guzzling, former heroin addict with an addiction towards weapons that make loud noises and who once thought it was a good idea to be codenamed Speedy. Of course, all he has to do is just go and pluck up a sword off the ground. It's not like there's going to be any other obstacles could spring up in Roy's way as he attempts to return The Bane of Velius back to its destined owner.

Well, unless Neron decided to kill Kara and Lloyd. Oh, and did I mention that two of our heroes are about to die? Find out the whos, whens, and whys in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Two for None. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	116. Two for None

Issue #116

Two for None

_Yucatan Peninsula – 9,742 B.C.E._

The tense fog of confusion that permeated through the minds of the tribal council had come close to blanketing all reason on several occasions and the wave at the present time was quickly proving to be the most potentially tumultuous. The emotions of both the men seated around the dwindling fire and the woman that saw to it that the light never flickered eked out in small doses, slipping free with a silent glare or a held in breath. There was little movement, a brief fidget or a jostle from their selected seats on the ground the only signs of relief from the strain endured by those tasked with the charge of overseeing the nearly 700 men and women within the war-torn community.

"High Chief, this is not an offer we can simply just gloss over and refuse," one of the elder members of the clan repeated, his sun-roughened skin and scratchy throat punctuating his frustration. "We have teetered over the cusp of harm for as long as we have dwelled these plains. Our people are restless and searching for sanctuary and this great seer claims that he can provide it and has showed us the means with which he tends to do so!"

The leader of the village let out a slow sigh, his bushy, beetle-black eyebrows rising and falling with the gesture. Like his quarrelsome comrade, his skin was weathered and worn from a lifetime of hardship yet his dimpled chin and slightly sagging jowls also revealed a healthy thickness that only a blessed few his age could enjoy.

"We have been warned by our true protector that this oracle is a trickster whose honeyed words have ended many proud territories in the southern lands with the aid of his mighty horde," he quietly replied, his emphasis on the veracity of their current guardian serving as a subtle crack of the whip against his already restless pack. Those within the outsized pergola seemed to find the reason in their leader's words but a rumble of discord continued to pass through the proceedings. The old chief, recognizing the undercurrent thanks to a lifetime of experience in such matters, motioned for one of the surrounding young women to set a handful of logs to the fire. The added kindling raised a crackle that appeared to set off an ethereal glimmer in his deep, black eyes as if he were delving into the deepest secrets of the flame.

"Though he is as impure a demon as the one that whispers within all of our thoughts, the guardian of our village has remained a vigilant allay of our people since the day of our ancestors," the old man added as the blaze resumed its slow, inevitable decline. "As our children tie their safety to our capacities, let us remain with an old friend during these times of turmoil."

Whatever poetry that could have been drawn from the old man's words were already set to scattering as another figure separated the front flaps of the tent with determined force. His hands lined with the miseries and rigors of combat, the young warrior's heavy steps sounded off against the cold earth and harkened all attention towards him. Stripping away some of the heavier hides from his lean but powerful shoulders, his bare, bronzed chest seemed to glimmer in the wake of the light and drew more of its fair share of admirers from the daughters and midwives clustered about the meeting place. However, it was clear that the tall, sinewy fighter had eyes for nobody save one, his hazel eyes burning as they sharpened themselves against the chief's placid gaze.

"So you've come to join us, Running Wolf," the chief softly offered as a subtle twitch of his left hand sent one of the servants rushing to fetch a drink for the village's most gifted hunter. "Having fought alongside our esteemed protector, surely your words would be valuable in the dilemma laid out before us."

The warrior bristled his upper lip at the notion thrust upon him and he cast his discontent amongst the leaders and commanders of his tribe. "My opinion remains the same as before you began this unnecessary talk. Which demon we choose to pledge our loyalty to is irrelevant. What matters is the safety and security of us! Not them!"

"And I would agree, at least to some extent," the chief acquiesced, his gaze betraying but a whit of emotion. "With that in mind, we must remember the pledge of our guardian and recognize that his vow to protect us offers us just that opportunity. . ."

"Bah. The words of just another demon clinging to its dwindling tenures!" Running Wolf shouted back, his passion giving a startle to many of the withered men around him. "And while this other one is no warrior or protector at least he is a beast that has the decency to flaunt his superiority rather than deny his intentions and leave us to die as they constantly dispute over territory."

The caustic comparison took a firm hold of the concern and discontent and sent it soaring onto the battleground, its gasps and urgent whispers leaving the chief with the heavy task of settling much of it down before he could see to speaking again. "Please forgive this warrior for his impatience. As many of you have guessed, his woman is with child so it is only natural that this good man is looking towards the future rather than the past or the present time."

The kindly spoken words drew a round of subdued laughter from many around the grizzled leader but the old man only needed to take a quick glance and witness the tinge of silver-streaked anger in Running Wolf's narrowed eyes to see that his gesture was not fully appreciated. The flaring tempers were cut short, however, by the presence of a familiar clinking of some substance largely unknown to the people of the village as their demonic guardian strode into the proceedings. The menacing presence of his black armor seemed to bring weariness to the flame at the center of the conference chamber but with a flick of a finger the demon brought the nourishing heat to rise once again. Though he could stand as tall as any five of their sternest men, the demon had chosen to take on a smaller, though still looming authority that cowed even the chief and Running Wolf to silence.

"I bear you ill tidings," greeted Za'hafal-nesh, the immortal greater demon effortlessly employing the Aleutian idiom employed by the people of the village. "It appears that the tempter has chosen to abandon conviction and move on to force." The news spawned a clamor of rushed voices and frantic gestures that the demon overcame with ease. "As I speak, a flock of his Regids are awaiting the order to attack."

The activity within the tent nearly rose to a fever pitch once again but the chief was quick to rise to his feet, the rare gesture enough to keep the younger members of the tribal council in a state of fretful stillness while the elders held their tongues. "How many are there, Guardian?" he asked clearly, his voice no longer betraying the kind-hearted spirit he had placed in his previous arguments.

"Nearly 100 in number, Laughing Bear," Za'hafal-nesh replied, his reference to the chief's chosen title meant as a measure of respect. "It is a force too large for me to take on properly while all of you are in danger. You must retreat into the northern mountains and delay for four risings of the sun. This will allow me enough time to prepare the proper defenses and teach these demons the errors of their ways."

"We understand, Guardian," Laughing Bear replied with a quick nod. "Will you require any of our warriors to provide assistance?"

"I shall stay," answered Running Wolf, the recent counsel obviously spurring the man's anger. "We must not allow ourselves to be fully defended by something that has so often brought us to desperation."

The creature known to many of his demonic brethren as The Condemner looked upon the hazel-eyed youth with a familiar dose of resignation, the immortal creature now well aware of the stubbornness of this proud boy. He cast a quick glance at Laughing Bear, his shrouded eyes silently informing the wizened leader that he would seek to his own duties so long as the chief and his subordinates devoted themselves to theirs and then all that needed to be said had been. He strode from the tent with his typically wide berth, the demon quickly registering the softened, clumping footsteps of his companion that allowed Running Wolf to keep pace with him as he turned south towards the border of the tribe's hunting grounds.

The argument that had begun to brew the moment Za'hafal-nesh had arrived was just as quickly rendered moot by the sudden arrival of a woman who had grown quite familiar with them both. She was an oddity amidst the tanned faces and sun-beaten brows with her own pale skin speckled as it was with the occasional pinkish tinges. Her hair was long and flaxen, a common trait among the Viking women that dwelled in the islands far to the northeast, and those long strands merely set the tone for the tall, proud frame that the woman proudly broadcast even as she was clearly with child. Furthermore, the seemingly unnatural brightness of her blue eyes had occasionally been a source of envy and rumor among the village so long as Running Wolf was nowhere within earshot and Za'hafal-nesh was quite confident that only more chatter would emerge as their greatest warrior proudly embraced this largely unwanted visitor.

"Do not go out there, please!" the woman begged, her every action teeming with concern even while her husband pressed his lips against her forehead. "I know you have faced the fury of the flayers of fire but not without my arrows to watch over you! Leave the both of us here and I fear you will leave me a widow."

Za'hafal-nesh continued to look on silently as the proud warrior stroked the woman's graceful cheek with his coarse fingertips, the soothing gesture most likely far more useful to him than to her. He remained just as respectful as Running Wolf's nimble fingers glided over where his child lay sleeping, his gentle skimming over his wife's distended skin absolutely devoid of the brutality that he would soon present to the beasts that attempted to pry him apart from the only prize that truly mattered.

"Do not fear, my Black Rose," Running Wolf replied, the tender tone and winsome smile he sent in accompaniment with the contemptuous title that much of the village still assigned to his lover drawing a sweet but cautious smile onto the lips of his love. "I now see the way to break this damned cycle. Soon we will grace our child with the sunrise with freedom in each of our hearts."

Ever courteous to those he had come to respect or care for, The Condemner said nothing as Running Wolf accepted the slow and slight nod his wife had provided in reply. However, as he finally turned away as Black Rose said farewell to her husband with the tenderest of kisses, the demon couldn't help but hear the woman's rampant thoughts.

_You've always overvalued your ideas, my love._

* * *

_Palace of Hashmalamum – November 1__st__ – 10:07 A.M._

Arsenal let out a playful laugh reminiscent of a dirty old man in a Japanese cartoon as he continued to clamber over the collapsed columns that lay in the gap between him and the sword. Letting out a grunt as his right kneecap slid roughly against a tall bit of rubble, the expert marksman wisely took a moment to examine his surroundings before rising back to his feet and moving to examine the trip down to the other side. Remembering that time was hardly on his side, the red-haired, former Teen Titan managed to make his way down the other side with a series of graceful leaps, his last downward bound bringing him almost 40 yards away from The Bane of Velius.

"Gotta grab that thing and get out of here as quick as I can," Roy reminded himself as he broke into as fast as a run as the uneven surface would safely allow. "Can't let down the rest of the varsity team now after all the stuff we had to do to pull this off."

As one could guess, it was quite safe to say that Roy hadn't quite done an equivocal share of the "stuff" that he had mentioned before. It had been Terra who chose to valiantly sacrifice herself to hold of Neron's army and it was Kara and Lloyd that had readily carried the bulk of the load as they not only fought the ruler of the underworld but also stuck to the task of concealing him from even Neron's strong senses. Recognizing that, the young single father was quite quick to his own little part of the plan, his steps measured and sure as he made his way down the increasingly complicated path. A swell of magma rose up near him at somewhere around the halfway point that would have made continuing on impossible but Roy and his BMFG were at the ready. Pressing the brown button that symbolize the gun's "earth" setting, Roy circumvented the surrounding tectonic activity with some of his own and kept the pressure on until the viciously hot fissure was sealed up. Left with the volcanic emissions that remained, the hero of Karbarra pressed down the blue button on the keypad connected to his new favorite weapon and rendered the magma inert with wave upon wave of arctic winds.

A short spree of ice skating and another round of brisk running finally brought Roy to his prize, the black scimitar letting out a glimmer as he reached for the rigid hilt. Far too knowledgeable in his selected field to resist the temptation to marvel at the unique craftsmanship and supernatural allure of The Bane of Velius, it was almost with an afterthought that the redhead suddenly felt a surge of energy attempting to circulate through his fairly unresponsive frame. The unusual psychic backwash was a matter that he had been prepared for, his lack of demonic lineage disallowing him from being able to take full advantage of the beautiful instrument now in his possession.

"Well, don't this beat all," he finally whispered as he tilted the blade from one side to the other in his experienced hand. The sudden rush of motion that followed his words soon proved that he needed that aforementioned experience as he narrowly avoided the vicious swipe of a sharpened axe by casting aside the hatchet with a cross block. The impossibly sharp blade in his hands managed to easily cleave its way through the steel handle of the small hatchet but the sudden separation nearly caused the ax's sharper half to fly straight into his face. Thus, while Roy was forced to spin away to avoid any messy contact, the marksman's hasty opponent managed to connect with a powerful left backhand that not only knocked The Bane of Velius from his hands but left it to skitter and slide into the lake of fire that rumbled on behind them.

"You son of an undead bitch," Roy spat out, his injured wrist throbbing in its current agony as he removed the unexpected pest from his presence with a blinding sheet of ice. "You know, it's not like I can just put on some scuba gear and go swimming for that thing!"

"So much the better for us, you ill-mannered scum," Sebastian Blood roared back over the wail of the surrounding blizzard. "Soon my master shall be free and he will retrieve The Bane at his own leisure just as I present him with your dismembered corpse!"

Arsenal managed to mix in a heavy sigh with his quick switch as he quickly froze a good percentage of the hiding places Blood still had available to him. "Getting your early Christmas shopping down, Sebby? Awwwwww, are you telling me that you finally found a mommy?"

The former cult leader and current avatar of the vast confusion of limbo continued to keep his cool as he sprinted from one broken mound of rock and stone to the next, his uncanny agility allowing him to weave through the elemental traffic. After a half-minute of darting and dodging, the ashen immortal found some running room and vaulted over a 10-foot arctic barrier before setting upon a beeline for this weakling of a human that had evaded his fate twice before. Coming quickly within a handful of meters from his prey, Blood leapt into the air once and landed a flying straight punch that sounded off a loud _crack _when it made combat with Roy's chest. The force of the attack, blunted as it was by Arsenal's body armor, was enough to send the human into a round of stumbling that allowed the vampiric predator to use another spinning back fist to bat the odd-looking energy weapon out of his opponent's clutches.

"You mock my search for a family, Harper?" Blood asked disdainfully as his hands strained to grab a hold of Roy's throat. "Well, allow me to repay your words by leaving your daughter without her father!"

The mere thought of never seeing his wonderful little hellion summoned up a desperate burst of strength from Roy's heart and soul but even that wasn't nearly enough to fend off the starved demon. A long series of seconds inevitably allowed Blood to break through his more skillfully made defenses with just a hint of his own power and then Roy felt the crushing pressure against his trachea, the muscles and vessels compressing in a decidedly unhealthy manner as the tip of his spine began to give.

"My painful existence has been nothing but strife and confusion," Blood insisted as Roy's vision began to grow dim. "That muddle made me weak but my true Lord has allowed me to see what is true. My God, the one true savior of you insolent worms, shall finally emerge and his passage will usher in a golden age where weakness like yours will no longer be required!"

* * *

The emphatically explained message of Sebastian Blood was also being broadcast by his master as Neron circled his wounded prey, the greater demon circling around his tired foe while searching for the most efficient way of bringing his battle to its quickest end. Though weakened by the loss of his blade, the abilities of the greater demon were still on par with primordial entities such as The Spectre and, as such, were more than a match for the fused but weakened warriors. Neron sought to further prove this certainty by attacking Kara and Lloyd straight on, his bulky, human-like frame still mobile enough to avoid the wise swipes of the _Mugalshir. _Knocking aside the gleaming, silver saber with a heel kick to his opponent's wrist, Neron moved forward for the kill but was met with a stiff left hook that jerked his body straight into Kara's right fist as if he were an automobile that tried and failed to barrel through a cement wall. A pair of Sambo-style spinning clotheslines were to follow a fraction of a second later as he felt the girl's small but powerful left forearm crashing across his cheek before the right one came about, shattered his nose with the impact and sent him hurtling away.

His body well on the way to a full recovery even as he was set to collide with the crimson barrier that served as the borders of the battlefield, Neron sensed that his foe was giving chase and wisely decided to take advantage of the mortals' hubris. Catching the left arm of the amalgamated fighter as they sought to add some more force into the crash to come, Neron kept the natural momentum of his descent and even threw in some telekinesis as he forced his adversary into the barrier instead. The damage and satisfaction that came with the crash was minimal but the unprotected punches to the back of his foe's head more than made up for it as a mouthful of blood splattered against the walls of his temporary prison. Encouraged by the showing of abject misery, the greater demon pressed the advantage only to once again be caught in a hastily crafted ruse as his opponent nearly eviscerated him with a brilliant spinning lash_, _the silver saber that had already caused the demon injury having been instantly delivered back to the clever swordsman and warrior woman with a timely psychic showcase.

"Well, we now see that you still have what it takes on the physical side of things," Neron confessed while backing away from the fray, the nasty gash along his thick abdomen already starting to close up even as he spoke. "Now we'll see why you're dying tonight."

The dread that pervaded Kara's individual thoughts was already beginning to fester before the constrained theater of war was enveloped within a thick, toxic wave of black energy. Hardly needing her lover's tense words to recognize the intentions of their opponent, Kara quickly broke free from the "edge" of the bubble that Neron had forced them into as the greater demon waved his extended hands in an unfamiliar pattern. Bolts of scarlet hellfire began to cluster around him, dozens after dozens that were soon let loose with only a single target in mind. Their already tremendous power augmented by the nimbus of demonic energy, the half-Kryptonian wisely did her best to avoid as many of the seeking enchantments as she could while employing the _Mugalshir _to defend the ones that finally managed to close in.

The chaos to come was ninety of the longest seconds in Kara's life. It was somewhere between the 50th and 55th deflection when she could feel the throbbing of her forearms. By the 75th the pain had reached her shoulders and was pressing its way through her temples. Finally, by the time she had employed the saber to parry the 200th direct attempt on her life throughout the stage, the strain that came with her efforts had reduced her to an exhausted pile of muscle and bone as a trickle of blood seeped through her nose while bright, arterial fluids threatened to rise from her throat thanks to the unrelenting exertion.

"_Come on, Lloyd," _she heeded to the half of them in charge of keeping the mystical elements of their combination together. _"We're not going to last much longer if all we can do is dodge! Just give me a little more juice and we'll be able to throw all this against him and get back on the offensive."_

It was a foolish move and she quickly knew it and she could only hope that the both of them would be able to live and learn from it. Be that as it may, her urging words convinced Lloyd to do as she asked, just as he was prone to do. This, invariably, played directly into Neron's hands and Kara felt the sizzling pain rising from the crown of her spine until it seemed to explode around her. The sudden and sharp neurological event had Kara's senses swimming in a discordant sea of colors as her and Lloyd's joint synaptic connections wound themselves back together in the proper order just as the greater demon's merciless assault closed in on them in the subsequent fractions of a second.

There wasn't any time for permission or forewarning. The transition was forced but still seamless as Kara shifted her attention towards the eldritch half of their unique joining. Wielding the impressive supply of energy as best she could, it not only took every bit of her supernatural training but also all the tricks bequeathed to her by her Praxian bloodline to keep up with the hectic pace as she concocted a series of portable space barriers that minimized the strain on her senses while still providing adequate protection from the deathly display.

_Idiot_, she informed herself as her defensive efforts began to thin the hectic herd. _He's been through hell, with __**and**__ without the demon, and here I am expecting him to carry that kind of a burden all by himself! _Coordinating her rage as best she could, the daughter of Zor-el fueled their lagging reserves as the blitzkrieg of demonic energy finally began to die down.

"_I'm sorry, Lloyd_," she told the other half of her even as a cold smirk slipped its way through Neron's otherwise stony countenance. "_Maybe a part of me still looks at you and sees the person who guided me through so much even when I didn't have a clue about what I should be doing. I guess. . . I guess I didn't see you the way I should have."_ Her lingering apprehension began to resurface upon the realization that she didn't receive a response. Her body, now under Lloyd's sole control, was hanging limp and listless and was doubtlessly an easy target for their stupendously powerful adversary as he hurtled his way forward.

"_Lloyd. . ."_

Neron was only 100 yards away. Seventy-five.

"_Please don't be dead."_

Fifty.

"_Please. You have to wake up."_

Ten.

"_LLOYD!"_

A sharp scream exploded through the calm as Neron wrenched backwards, his forehead leaking blood like a small cascade in the sizeable gap that had been created with a timely lash of the _Mugalshir. _A similar wound to the demon's twisted heart was quick to follow before the attempt to split Neron's skull in two was cut short by a desperate burst of telekinesis that forced that fused warrior away from their sudden advantage.

"_I was tryin' to catch a kip, pet," _Lloyd replied amidst the rain of hellfire that he buffeted back with the aid of Kara's power and his own experience with the eldritch blade. _"Not every day that a bloke has a stroke and 'spects' to be up and at 'em in an instant."_

Odd as it was given her state of being, Kara suddenly felt torn in two. A part of her wanted to dance and laugh and sing like a giddy schoolgirl while the other half of her wanted to take that aforementioned complement and beat it bloody at the mere thought that the simple sound of her lover's voice could drive her to such a state of mind. And, strange as it sounded, the only thing those two halves _could _agree upon was that their lover deserved a smack to the back of his head for calling her "pet".

"_Don't know how much I got left in the tank," _Lloyd admitted, his sudden, sobering tone driving Kara back to full attention as Neron closed the gap. _"I'm afraid you're going to have to carry me home, luv," _he added even while the demon redoubled his efforts to tear them apart. "_I'll do what I can but I just can't keep pace for what I could do with the demon."_

Damning as it was, Kara's capricious half managed to rear her dainty head even while she waged her part of the war against the ruler of the nether realms. _"Stop__beating yourself up or I'll beat you up myself!" _she shouted back through the neural link with a tone so encouraging that it would have made Stephanie roll her eyes up past her skull. _"I don't care about that! As long as you're here, willing to __**try**__, I'll pick you over a thousand demons. __**You're **__who I fell in love with and you're the one I want to share my life with!" _

"Touching," Neron snarled as he found himself on his metaphorical heels, the greater demon finding that he needed some time to compensate for the sudden burst of energy his once-overwhelmed foe had suddenly brought to the table. "Such displays of loyalty are hard to come by," he admitted while regaining the advantage again with a swift swerve around a right-handed slash and a solid, left-handed uppercut to the chin. Smiling as his opponent was stunned by the force of his counterattack, the lord of lies wrapped the long fingers of his left hand around the skull of his foe.

"The both of you would have been fine soldiers had you not surrendered to the temptations of the flesh. That sin, and the closeness that comes with it, enabled me to claim victory this day."

Neron's chanting was a quick and fervent whisper, his lips a blur as he slowly flattened his right palm while tightening his grip on his opponent's face with the other. Making a cutting motion with his free hand, he let out an enervated grumble as he watched Kara and Lloyd split apart and return to their normal bodies. Left with some time to recover from his strain, the greater demon let out a deep breath as Kara swooped down to gather Lloyd into her arms before the magician could make a painful collision with the Cytorrakian shield. It would be the last of his merciful gestures that day as he scattered the lovers apart once again with a shoulder tackle that sent Kara crashing harshly into the barrier.

The Last Daughter of Krypton forced herself to recover quickly but the combination of being ripped from what she thought to be unbreakable and the throbbing pain streaming from her temples had left her vision momentarily blurred. However, that confusion was quickly brushed away as she turned to see Lloyd's neck caught in the demon's grasp. A frigid dread coated her guts and shook at her tired bones despite her efforts to stop it, the realization that there wasn't any way for her lover to break free on his own sinking in with sickening immediacy.

"All right, then," Neron began once again, the demon just as well aware of the surrounding facts as his fair-haired victim. "Now what would you say to making a deal?"

* * *

_The Depths of Zalera_

Batman found that he couldn't quite look at his former partner, the middle-aged detective opting instead to focus his attention upon the menacing gap that still rankled through time and space itself. The breach was nearly twice his height and the eerie luster of its presence provided a clear warning that this was a force against nature that wasn't to be trifled with on a whim. This was supernatural force that was primordial in nature, simple in its own way but riveted within the maturity of time and practice that he had come to appreciate more and more throughout the years as life constantly presented with more mysteries that he could unravel and resolve.

"So now we're left to attend to this," he noted while taking a slight step forward. As he did so, the corner of his right eye managed to pick up the sight of some hasty shuffling that helped answer another of his many questions. "I'm hoping that we're not being forced to rely on Stephanie in this matter."

Batman looked on silently as Grodd and Jason shared a slight but knowing glance and that prompted the still-wounded warrior to instinctually stoop into a defensive stance. He was still avoiding the temptation to properly examine the second man to don the mantle of Robin but, had he done so, he would have been privy to the flicker of a wound that Jason quickly fought away.

"Hey, don't sell the kid short, old man," Jason replied, his hobbled strides eventually bringing him back to Bruce's side. "She kicked both our asses, after all. At least in her own way." The man in the bloodied and torn, yellow-and-green body armor was almost proud to see Bruce's half-smirk and even paused for a moment to take it in before examining the spectral gateway. "Besides, that's not the soldier you want to send into this one."

Unmasked as he was, Bruce couldn't hide the furrowing of his brows. "The price of breaking a deal with Neron has always been steep, Jason. And, given what supposedly created these shackles, it would be easy to guess what the penalty would be to break them."

Jason kept pace with Bruce's glance as much as he could. Suffice it to say, it only took a half-of-a-second before he couldn't help but turn away.

"Whoever's going in here has to willingly extinguish their own soul. That's why we can't just go and toss Chronos or one of these other assholes in and call it a day," Jason waved his right arm in the general direction of the addled and unconscious time traveler. "If you go in there then there's no chance for peace or heaven or whatever bullshit is supposed to happen to you if you're a good, little boy. There's just. . . nothing."

The disclosure was hardly anything that Bruce hadn't already guessed. His experience in the world of magic may have been admittedly limited but balance was a concept that had stuck to his every action since that rainy, blood-soaked night in Crime Alley. _For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The unmaking of one is inevitably a sacrifice for another's creation._

Bruce was only three steps away from the breach when Jason finally slid in front of him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the younger of the two vigilantes managed to spit out through his gnashed teeth. "God damn it, between you, Dickie, and the littlest lantern there must be something in the air around that big-ass house of yours that just draws everybody in to doing something stupid!"

The man behind The Batman leveled his seemingly renowned glower down at the forever-insolent boy blocking his way. In the years that he had known Jason Todd, he knew that "The Batglare", as so many seemed to call it, had never failed to yield a strong reaction from his former student. As Robin it presented an opportunity for Jason to fire back with youthful defiance bolstered by a round of determination and a heap of obstinacy. As Red Hood it gave the failed crime boss and vigilante a chance to rail on about egotistical heroes and the injustice of everything that had happened to him from the moment he was born, killed, and dragged back to the world again.

Jason Todd, on the other hand, stood firm and unmoving. "You got a lot of people who look up to you, God alone knows why. Now you owe it to them, to _me, _to try your best to stick around and give them back the time that they've given to you."

"I've failed you twice, Jason," Bruce replied, his soft tone a poor buffer for his unyielding posture. "I can't allow it to happen again."

"Ugh!" Jason groaned back, his intentional backward stumbling taking him ever so closer towards the breach before he voluntarily pulled himself back. "It's always got to be about you, isn't it? It's _my _city. It's _my _failure. It's _my _decision. Well, here's a newsflash, Bruce! Life isn't just about what Batman is and wants to do! There's other people that may have some things to protect or things they wanna do or fuck-ups that they think they might want to try and do something about."

Bruce's physical hintings that he would attempt to get past Jason finally came to an end but the glare remained. "I never wanted to see you suffer, Jason. I wanted to _help _you."

Quite visibly relieved that he no longer had to be fully on his guard, Jason celebrated his reprieve with a shrug of his shoulders. "Well, it's not like I was going to see St. Peter if I let you kick the bucket for me here. Hell, odds are that would just leave me in Bludhaven or Detroit and who wants to go there?"

The former Red Hood and Robin allowed himself a smirk (because Lord knows that the old fogey would never find a way to appreciate his sense of humor). "And you did help me, old man. Now do me a favor and help yourself. Let me handle this while you go find that irritating, little bitch that you gave my outfit to and head out to go build the life you always deserved."

Still not up for smiling, Bruce managed to appease the rebel turned man with a tilt of his eyebrows. "Jason. . . I don't really know what to say. . ."

"Well, I do," Jason interceded while raising his right hand to punctuate the point. "Just between you and me, I think there's a woman out there that's a lot more appropriate for a stuck-up like you than Selina Kyle."

Bruce suddenly discovered that the temptation was just too much.

"So you're suggesting Talia then?"

The question brought about a wonderful moment where Jason Todd, this fractured, imperfect puppet of a man, was left completely on his own with nothing but a simple, dumbfounded stare and left to fend for himself. Then came Jason's wild laughter and Bruce suddenly felt more proud of himself than he ever thought he could be. It was enough to prompt him to breaking out in laughter as well and, when Jason extended his hand, the normally hard-hearted crusader had no reservations returning the kindness, his quivering fingers wrapping as firmly as they could around his old partner's firm wrist.

"_Thank you, Jason_," Bruce wanted to say, the words falling short of the tip of his tongue as the chill of Jason's dead body left him.

"Godspeed, Robin," he eventually replied.

Jason offered one last smirk, one last gesture of defiance in the face of Bruce's bald-faced repression. "I think I'll leave the 'godly speed' to the professionals," he countered while turning to face the breach, his back facing the closest thing he could have ever called a father. "As for me, I think I'll just stick to doing what I can."

Bruce was kind enough to say nothing more as Jason entered the portal, his body dissipating into the raucous energy while his soul was quick to follow. Waiting just long enough for the portal to begin to crackle and wane, The Batman shut his eyes and tried not to clench them. The seconds passed on before the threshold faded away and he opened himself back to the world once again, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips and presented for an audience of none.

* * *

_Queklain's Tower_

"No! NO! It can't be like this!"

Barry felt himself let out a gasp, the usually astute former police officer a titch surprised that he had missed the chore of soothing the nerves of his nephew. "But it is, Wallace," he quickly answered back, the employment of the young father's birth name serving as such a blatant play on his nephew's emotions that even his broody, Beatles obsessed, cape wearing colleague from Gotham would have been hard-pressed to match it. "I didn't just come out of The Speed Force to say hello and put Eobard Thawne back in his place. I came here because we needed another willing soul that could sacrifice themselves to free The Demon King and Grodd gave me the opportunity to be that person."

A flicker of the golden lightning that The Flash had previously wrapped around his body like a cloak began to emerge in Wally's green eyes. "Grodd," Wally ground out. "Damn it, the moment I can get my hands on him. . ."

"You'll extend them so you can try and make sure that this fella keeps himself in line," Barry intervened, the speedster's soft, blue eyes casually informing Wally that the current topic of conversation offered for no further argument. "This wasn't originally his idea. I came to Hashmalamum willingly after you, Bruce and the rest chose to make your way down here. I still wouldn't trust Grodd as far as Bruce could throw him but that doesn't mean that he can't help us out. And, if he goes back to what comes naturally, then you'll have good reason to bring him back down."

An annoyed sigh passed through Wally's lips as if the young father was irritated with even having to discuss such a minor matter. "How I deal with that monkey doesn't matter now. Barry, if you do this then any chance you have of retaining a corporeal form is null and void! It's not fair! You deserve another chance before you just go and resort to something like this!"

"You're right. It isn't fair," Barry replied with a commiserating nod of his head. "It's not the least bit fair that I had the opportunity to just stand back from afar and watch as you had to struggle to become the great man that you are now. You've become a responsible father, a loving husband, a better, smarter hero than I ever could be and a better man."

Just as Barry found himself caught unawares by so many old memories made new, Wally suddenly remembered how much he hated to cry in front of the man that raised him. After all, this was the man who sacrificed so much for him for little reason other than binding blood. It wasn't _right _that his uncle had to take on that burden and this wasn't right at all!

"Well, fine. I'm a better man," Wally allowed, his tone blatantly displaying that he didn't believe a word of it. He felt the gentle grasping of his right shoulder and found that he had to turn away from those seemingly all-knowing eyes. "Then that means I deserve a little something extra. I want my children to be able to spend time with the man who made me who I am. Damn it, Barry, I put them through so much hell already and they deserve a grandfather and you're telling me that there's no chance that's going to happen. Now you say that this is fair to you so why the hell can't this one thing be fair for me?"

Perhaps it was a credit to Wally's humility that his pitiable claim didn't escape from his lungs in an anguished bellow or tremble out through watery eyes. It was delivered through the tones of a wounded animal who felt as if he had let down the people he loved once again and the realization prompted Barry to mercilessly embrace his stock-still nephew.

"_Oh, if Bruce could see you now," _Barry couldn't help but muse to himself, the former police officer far too kindly to say the words aloud.

"Wally, I told you my final wish was for you and Bruce to work together to help protect the world. Now, if you don't mind me being greedy, I'd like to rescind that wish and replace it with another one." The fair-haired speedster allowed some time for his compatriot, his _equal, _to compose himself and respond with a firm nod of his head before continuing on. "I want you to promise me to keep being the man you are at this very moment. Now I'm not asking you to be the greatest father and you don't have to be the greatest hero. All I want is for you to keep trying your best to do what you think is right and I promise you that there isn't a thing that you could do to make me prouder of you."

The Fastest Man Alive cautiously regarded his predecessor, the young father naturally torn in the midst of the latest item forced upon him by someone he couldn't possibly say no to. "I. . . I don't really know what you want me to do with something like that," he confessed, the guilty words prompting the scarlet-garbed speedster to spare a detached gaze toward the remains of Hunter Zolomon. The sight was so stark and stable, so. . . constant. . . that the jolting slap of Barry's hand clapping against his shoulder prompted him to startle.

"Well, then start off with this," Barry offered. "When you see Bruce again, tell him that the dreamer really is out to get the boogeyman." Grinning at the bewildering look he received in return, he then added, "Believe it or not, he'll know what you mean."

Wally nodded again, uncertain though he may have been, before widening his eyes in response to another realization. "Oh Dear Lord, you're leaving me to watch over the goddamn Batman."

Barry let out a knowing chuckle as he stepped away from his heir, the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes as lively as ever. "Just consider it another part of the legacy," he proposed while making his way to the breach. His steps were achingly slow in comparison to the incalculable speeds the champion had accomplished either during his glory days or even during his last battle but it still held a necessary hastiness to the man who happened to be making them. He was within the breach before Wally could move to stop him, his recently revived physical body fading away just as quickly as his spirit and soul.

"And, believe me, you were always worthy of it, son."

The fastest man alive let his tears fall freely as the portal faded, the simple man ashamed that he had waited for so long.

* * *

To stare into Sebastian Blood's crimson eyes was to take a nice, stark snuffle of death itself as far as Roy was concerned. If anything, the stark metaphor offered some clarity to his increasingly blurry world as he feebly struggled to break the vice-like grip around his neck. His extremities had grown cold from the sudden loss of precious blood and the oxygen that came with. The consuming chill led to a state of panic as Neron's avatar of limbo drew him in closer, his fangs poised for his neck. It was only the taunting words of his foe and his memories of his little princess that allowed him to summon the desperate strength her needed to slam what part of his skull that he could into Blood's helmet.

It seemed like the best move he can make at the time. After all, Bruce and Dinah had so frequently lauded his skull for its solidity.

The move may have caused more harm than good the short term but the concussive force was enough to loosen Blood's grip and allow him to sloppily break free and fall knees first to the ground.

Acting as quickly as he could, Roy opted for physics over force as he snagged his opponent by the wrists and sent the immortal flipping head over heels with a simple monkey flip. Employing the momentum of his leg throw to roll backwards back to his feet, Arsenal quickly rushed toward the BMFG in the hopes of acquiring an evener. Blood, witnessing this new development from the novel vantage point of lying upside down and on his ass, recovered his bearings with far greater grace and speed than his underpowered adversary and rushed for the weapon as well. The two met in a rather unique form of fashion as Roy struck Blood's chin with a picture-perfect, Savate-style thrust kick that shattered the chin of Neron's lieutenant and sent him skidding onto his knees.

Rarely ever one to mince his actions, the former protégé of Oliver Queen quickly took advantage and wrapped Blood in a tight bear hug. "Shit, you are the fuckingest worst welcome wagon I have _ever _gotten," he informed his still-addled opponent as the both of them stumbled towards the pool of magma that served as the current resting place of The Bane of Velius. "No beer, no Chex mix, and no little puffy things with cheese baked into the middahhhhhh. . ."

It was clear that confidence had gotten the better of Arsenal when Sebastian managed to wriggle his way out of his restraints to the point where he could put at least a part of his left foot back on solid ground. Bringing his impressive leg strength to bear, the pallid murderer pushed his body through a tight forward flip and forced the simpleton to travel with him. Both gentlemen landed harshly on their backs but while Blood was somewhat cushioned by Arsenal's body, Roy was left with the problem of enduring not just the demon's weight crashing down onto his chest but the painful burden of the back of his skull slamming against the gray stone of what remained of the palace. As one could imagine, the combined damage was considerable and more than enough to keep the former Teen Titan on his back as Blood tumbled back to a standing position.

"You conceited maggot!" Blood spat out in a hateful timbre, his petty revenge punctuated with a stern kick to the gut that forced Roy closer towards the pit of magma. "You're no better than the rest of your infernal kind. You overvalue your ideals and your importance while we are forced to search and struggle to receive what was handed down to you as an inheritance!"

The demon continued to pour his frustrations through every stomp he rained down, his right boot scrunching Roy's body armor against his already bruised abdomen until the human was little more than a sputtering mess. Tiring of the matter altogether, Blood raised his foot back again to launch the finishing blow and soon found his deadened senses overwhelmed with agony as the sole of his foot met the unflinching tip of a diamond-tipped arrow.

Fatigued though he may have been, there was precious little that could have stopped Arsenal as he allowed Blood's own momentum to do much of his own work. The velocity of Blood's leg worked quickly with the angle at which the marksman had set his trap and allowed Arsenal to rake the sharp tip of his unconventional blade through a good portion of his opponent's foot. Black blood flowed against his arm and a panicked shout bounded against his ears but Roy kept himself moving as he swiveled his legs forward until they could clamp around Blood's ankles. Twisting his wounded prey about with a drop-toe hold, Roy mercilessly ignored Blood's plea as he sent him falling down face first into the pit of boiling fire. The screams of Neron's servant were easily blotted out as the heat of the magma effortlessly liquefied Blood's throat and everything else above it, the immortal's struggles to break free made fruitless as Roy clamped on to his legs with every ounce of his strength.

"Said you were gonna leave my daughter without a father, huh?" Roy hissed to his deaf and silent audience. "Bitch, I'll leave you without everything."

The former heroin junkie and eternal fetcher of life held on to Blood's legs for a little while longer, if only for safety's sake, before finally dumping the lower two thirds of the body in with the ashen remains of the rest. He had no way of knowing if his supposedly undead victim would be able to recuperate from such carnage but, to be brutally frank, he couldn't possibly have cared less as he tumbled back to his feet. Practically bounding toward the discarded BMFG, Arsenal found the blue button on the panel almost instantly, pressed it, and let loose a stream of arctic energy towards what he hoped to be Sebastian Blood's final resting place.

_Here's hoping that there's enough juice left in this thing to freeze this stuff up_, he thought as the swirling residue spun about his neck and shoulders. _Then I can just melt the ice, take back The Bane and get it back to its rightful. . ._

A seemingly impossible swell of fire and ice rose from the pit with such fury that Roy was suddenly thrown onto his back. It was only by the grace of instinct that he managed to hold on to the Karbarran energy pistol and he was ready to fire within a moment after the chaos. In fact, to make things even simpler, his prospective target had apparently chosen to stand still in the midst of the threat, his tawny eyes briefly looking down upon Arsenal as if he were a potentially amusing mouse before he returned his sights towards the black blade shining within his right hand.

"Jesus Christ," Roy mumbled as the BMFG fell from his hands and skittered against the ground.

The demon grinned.

"Decidedly not."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

So let me see if I can properly grasp the concept that Grant Morrison wants us to believe in so that we'll buy lots of copies of _Batman Incorporated. _Bruce Wayne, having recently returned from traveling through time (NOT DYING! Yes, Final Crisis may have ended with Superman carrying out Batman's corpse and the arc before in Batman was called _Batman R.I.P. _but he DIDN'T DIE!).

Perhaps he was merely resting. . .

Oh, sorry, back to DC's latest cash cow. Batman, now back from an endless spiral of space and time constructed by a god whose powers eclipse humanity's meager imagination (a journey that seemed to only take about six months at most), decides that he is going to spread the quest and image of Batman throughout the world under the claim that his previous methods towards fighting the eternal menace of crime were unsuccessful. He will do this by taking a symbol he adopted so that _no one else would have to suffer the injustices that he has_ and hand it over to a bunch of somewhat introduced good souls.

Bruce Wayne, the man that once forbid other superheroes, his trusted friends and colleagues, to enter Gotham while it was registered as a "No Man's Land" in the eyes of the federal government for fear that their questionable tactics and easy solutions would bring about more harm than good in the long-term development of his beloved city, is essentially becoming a vigilante pimp.

Well, this just begs a question. If this is DC's latest cash cow then who, may I ask, are the sheep?

I'll let you ponder over that one while I keep on trucking with my next issue preview.

* * *

_Issue #117 Preview_

So who has lay claim to The Bane of Velius? What form of bargain will Kara be forced to make in order to ensure the safety of her lover? Which two of the nine, noble souls selected by Neron to serve as the champions of the mortal world will perish in the fires of Hashmalamum and how much would could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck would chuck wood? Find out in the next installment of _The Misfits_: The Devils We Know. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	117. The Devils We Know

Issue #117

The Devils We Know

_Yucatan Peninsula – 9,742 B.C.E._

The journey had been swift but largely silent, just as both parties had anticipated, as Running Wolf proved the veracity of his namesake while sprinting across the snow-sunken woods with a simple grace not found amongst the elder hunters of the village now miles to the east. His hazel eyes were sharp and stretched for suspicion while his ears were keen and focused, the fact that his usual hunting grounds were now absolutely devoid of prey hitting home with the Aleutian warrior as he trudged forward with his spear at the ready.

Za'hafal-nesh continued to observe the boy as he moved, the demon's vast supply of experience and sorcery allowing him to travel so silently that he seemed to nearly glide across the ground. "What do you know of your wife's condition?" he finally asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper but still distinct enough for his comrade to hear.

Running Wolf allowed his moccasin-covered feet to slide across a mound of powdery snowfall that had trickled off the high branches of the fir trees above before collecting themselves along the bases of the stalks below. It was an odd thing to see snowfall this far south of the tribe's travels, so much so that some had suspected the work of witchcraft and sorcery but the young man rarely ever paid words such heed.

"You are possessed with the sorcery to see into her, are you not?" he asked back, the young warrior's eyes refusing to leave the forest in front of him. The aloof nature of his mannerisms made it so that either party would have had to been fools to not recognize the distance but, after several more seconds of silence, the boy finally let out a sigh while leaning against one of the tall trees. "The shaman must be coerced into seeing her," he inevitably replied, his fingers already beginning to lightly tap against the stern, birch wood. "Simply put, it is left for us to presume that all is well."

"And you suspect otherwise?" Za'hafal-nesh began, the demon more than aware enough of the life growing inside the belly of the tribe's "black rose" that it would be a strong and healthy offspring. "I had been led to believe that your wife had been accepted into your tribe, if not wholly welcomed."

Unable to restrain himself, Running Wolf turned back to regard his mighty compatriot, a beast of a presence that had known him since he was nothing more than an infant. His eyes held a sadness within them that shouldn't have belonged in such a youthful soul, at least as far as the demon was concerned.

"Acceptance means little in the midst of fear, old man," the young warrior finally replied before taking off deeper into the woods once again. The long, loping footsteps that trailed behind the speedier strides of the agile sprinter were a clear indication that the demon was close behind but Running Wolf focused himself upon the whipping of the wind against his hardened skin, his senses acutely aware of how the sharp gusts could seemingly slice against his eyes. It was the thrill of the sprint, be it the careful dash of the hunt or the few, merry cavorts he had as a child free of servitude and responsibilities that gave the man courage now. The courage to proceed.

The two warriors would eventually come to another stop near a steep decline where the tips of the tall trees on the bluff below were almost within leaping distance from the heights above. The unique vantage point offered the scouts a pristine location with which to examine the dozens of winged beasts that clustered about on the nearby flatland, their scaly hides and wings rendered rough and stern by the centuries of warfare experienced by the demons and their descendants. Having encountered the creatures before, Running Wolf paid only a brief degree of attention towards the emerald-skinned beasts below before wisely looking upward for any traces of crimson. There was little doubt that Za'hafal-nesh's rival would employ the fire-spewing beasts along with the more brutal warriors below and it wouldn't do him a bit of good to attract any attention in such an unmanageable position.

"Are there greater numbers than what your master had told you to expect, Running Wolf?"

A chill passed through the human that had nothing to do with the freezing weather. He knew it was foolish to believe that the powerful demon would have been wholly unaware but the slight possibility had turned into something he had chosen to cling to like a child's blanket. Torn between dashing back towards the village and yelling for the aid of his unlikely comrades that waited below, a mere peek into the bottomless pools of silver that could be seen through The Condemner's helm informed Running Wolf that neither options were a possibility.

Za'hafal-nesh, confident that he had silenced his companion, chose to have the decency to continue on. "Of course I know that you made a deal with him, Running Wolf," the demon said brusquely. "He doubtlessly offered you sanctuary for you and your young family. Perhaps he even dangled the carrot that was the safety of the village itself but you were warned by your elders that this beast works through sweet lies and petty trickeries. He sniffed out the succulence of your swollen heart and he will force you to choke upon the strings as he yanks away everything you are."

"As if you're one to talk!" Running Wolf growled back, the dismal certainty of the situation at hand spurring some desperate form of courage. "For countless years we have followed your rules while silently ordered to plead at the foot of your table! I have spent my entire life asking and expecting to toil as one of your foot soldiers in the eternal wars between your wretched kind while only receiving the barest promise of safety in return! It may have been a labor I was willing to accept as a child of this village but now I am a man who must watch over his family! I must seek to the safety of those I love and those who care for me in return and that responsibility calls for something more than you will ever be willing to offer!"

The Condemner regarded both the words and their speaker with a measured gaze, his steady countenance providing a chilling balm for the hot emotions of the brave but foolish human. To read what lay on the thoughts of Running Wolf was as simple as looking into his own memories and it wasn't long before a cold gleam seemed to run across the surface of the demon's armor.

"The oracle requires direct allegiance of the rival's former supporter in order to draw power from the broken bond," Za'hafal-nesh reminded his undersized comrade. "No power has been taken from me so I can only presume that you have yet to make your pledge of servitude."

Running Wolf flinched at what he had and would continue to do and the indignity that came with the certainty. "I wanted to see if you would at least attempt to make peace with your brethren rather than bound straight into yet another battle," he said through a thick swallow of trepidation. "Your protection may have brought us lifetimes of warfare but you also protected my father and my father's father and all they cared for. That courtesy earned you a final chance to reconsider."

Za'hafal-nesh regarded the courtesy and responded with a curt nod while placing his large, looming left hand across the shoulders of the young warrior. His thick talons encased within the black gauntlets, it appeared as if Running Wolf had been draw into the demon's darkness even as The Condemner brought his right hand up and smashed it against the human's skull. Shattered bones and the stiff cracking of vertebrae were muffled by the strength of the demon's grip as Running Wolf quickly wasted away from the world, his dreams forgotten and cast upon the pile begun and continued by similar lesser beings.

"You had my sympathies, Running Wolf," the greater demon confessed while allowing the sagging lump of flesh, bone and muscle to fall to the forest floor. "However, I have made a vow to protect all of humanity and that is a role I cannot give up to anyone, let alone the weak-willed examples of those I choose to protect. It is my. . . duty. . ."

A bizarre, tingling sensation passed through The Condemner's fingertips as he observed the rivulets of blood tumbling from Running Wolf's open lips. Chalking up the matter as an unconscious reaction to his righteous duties, the demon continued to observe his anticipated fray from afar, the lesser beasts unaware of their hunter and their place amidst the grander scheme. It was a weighty task to perform such observations, such as it had been for millennia before the present but not even that infinity of experience could prepare humanity's defender as his body seized up, his unnecessary breath lodging tightly within his throat. Soon his massive frame was awash within an eldritch kaleidoscope and the demon employed its massive power to search for a solution that simply wasn't there.

_Impossible_, Za'hafal-nesh reminded himself, the self-proclaimed Guardian of The Weak still quite confident that his might would guide him through whatever trickery lay in his midst. _The shifting of a human's pledge cannot be made by a corpse. I left no avenue for the boy. . ._

The demon's legs shook like mad as The Condemner went through the unholy equivalent of a grand mal seizure, the debilitating agony of his suffering rendering him momentarily blind to the instrument of destruction that stood at his back. Indeed, while the vengeful force that stood beside the oracle could not possibly match the power and authority that either of the greater demons had mustered throughout their endless battles, her blazingly cold blue eyes radiated with unparalleled hatred as she looked upon her fallen love.

"No! NO!" Black Rose screamed as she ran to the man who had claimed her heart, the fussing of her unborn child only a mild impediment as she fell to her knees beside the baby's father. A veteran of the battlefield, the mind of the Viking woman was knowledgeable enough of death to recognize it but her heart was awash with desperation. "YOU ANIMAL!" she roared at the monster who had caused it all. "He wanted for nothing more than peace, he spent his lifetime fighting for just a bit of solitude and you do this to him!" The woman's radiantly blue eyes glimmered angrily, the gorgeous irises catching a hint of one of the overhead Regids so that it seemed to almost give them a tinge of crimson. "All of you deserve to die! EVERY! LAST! ONE OF YOU!"

The oracle mildly observed the emotional display, the demon's long footsteps measured and meant to offer more time to look upon the motionless state of his hated rival. He could still feel the power garnered from the fleshbag's allegiance still rumbling through his black blood and was nearly tempted to chuckle at the irony as he stooped down to place a hand on the raging woman's shoulder.

"A true pity," Zalbarda replied, the demon's tone lined with the cloying sympathy of a charlatan that would have only worked on someone devoid of reason. "Your love was foolish but noble to believe in the compassion of a monster. Still, I would have hoped that we could still save him."

"Enough. . . with your treacheries, beast!" Za'hafal-nesh spat out with a bit of his waning strength. "Girl, you must rescind your pact with Zalbarda before it is too late! His ways will only. . . doom you all."

"Now, now. Enough with your lies," Zalbarda interceded with a cloying smile, the master of the Regids that waited below recognizing his superiority and reveling in it. "You could have been kind and provided these humble wishes for some of your favorite little puppets. However, since you were so rude to refuse, I decided to complement your behavior with some kindnesses of my own. Just as the wolf had bargained before his untimely demise, this rose will know happiness and peace for all that she cares for until the end of her days. I shall make certain of that."

Weakened as he was by the spell's bindings, Za'hafal-nesh could do nothing but look on as the woman slowly stood. "Wait. . . wait a moment," she mumbled through her blinding tears and haze of rage. "I was the one who made the deaAAAAAAAAGGGGGH!"

Zalbarda looked on with mild interest as the azure lightning pouring from his fingertips were quick to broil alive the mother and unborn child. Sparing a moment to absorb the sadness trickling from the blighted soul of The Condemner, the trickster and oracle subdued his demonic power when all that was left was for the ash to slip down onto Running Wolf's cooling corpse.

It would only be a matter of hours before the sun would rise over the tall trees and, thus, the dying wish of the young and loving family would be met.

"Hmmmm, perhaps I should have shown more responsibility as a soothsayer and inform her of just _when _death would claim her," Zalbarda mused, his mind more concentrated upon the telepathic order sent to his powerful brigade to proceed to the nearby village and annihilate everything to be seen. "Well, then allow me to offer you that courtesy in return, old friend," he added while turning to his captured quarry. "If you'll permit me, I would like you to allow me an opportunity to fulfill the desire you've been looking to seek. The binding spell I continue to weave about your worthless body will keep you from the nether realms and allow you to remain with the inferior creatures you tried and failed to protect. Let their extinction and the screams that accompany their downfall ring eternally within your corrupted spirit while your mind is made toxic by your failed endeavor to raise yourself and others to greatness."

The urge to let out a loud roar of laughter in the wake of his triumph was interrupted by a round of dull applause. Raging in the aftermath of the rude interruption of his triumph, the anger that quickly rose to a frothing boil still managed to be imposed and driven down as Zalbarda turned to bear witness to the recent arrival. His cobalt skin paled in the midst of his fear, his pronounced forehead rendered to a pale aqua as he took in the vestiges of brimstone that rose from the demon's palms each time he brought his hands together.

"You've been practicing that speech, haven't you?" asked the new arrival, his unhurried travels eventually bringing the beast within footsteps of the lightning-wreathed charlatan. Standing nine feet tall and sporting over 600 pounds of pure, unholy muscle, the eternal brute still managed to possess an air of grace and nobility that the demons around him could only try and fail to achieve. Adorned with a deeply blue tunic bound by a white cape that fluttered against the demon's back, the power radiating from his pinkish-red skin and the intimidation that rumbled along his long strides made a pronouncement to both the dark night and the bright flames rising from the nearby village.

And the message, one may ask? It was to always remember that whatever was made could easily be unmade so long as there existed a power that could do so.

"D. . . The Demon King. . ." Zalbarda mumbled through a thick swallow, the greater demon acutely aware of the danger. "I. . . I. . ."

The blue-skinned monstrosity summoned the fastest sigil he could in order to get away but it was already far too late. His lips were sealed shut and his body was left to limply hang in the air as he was caught in the thrall of the same binding spell that he had employed to seal the fate of his longtime enemy.

"Well, let it never be said that the both of you failed to supply your share of entertainment," noted the last demon standing, his long fingers smoothing the coarse hairs along his pronounced chin. "In fact, I would dare say that the two of you could not have chosen a more appropriate manner with which to begin the twilight of our kind."

The Demon King casually turned the two inert demons until they were facing each other, the gesture more one of idle amusement than ironic necessity. "And do not pretend that you simply misheard me. I have grown weary of harboring the souls constantly culled by your endless battles and I have come to the conclusion that the most efficient way of relieving my burdens is to remove the lions and allow the gazelle to run on their own."

Hardly distracted with the continued restraining of Zalbarda, the most powerful of the greater demons took a moment to measure the now leaderless Regid as they continued to mercilessly lay waste to the eventual inheritors of the earth. Having served time as both a creator and a student of history, The Demon King was well aware that the dark victory tonight would be but a temporary one. Soon the humans would grow strong enough to overwhelm the demons that would be allowed to remain behind and he would have the privilege of observing the next chapter as it unfolded before his curious eyes.

Already intrigued by the possibilities, the stately guardian of the dead sped along the construction of the prison that Zalbarda had began for his rival. He looked on closely as the soul and spirit of The Condemner faded into the earth, the remains of a creature possessing so many of the solutions yet so few of the answers now encased within a prison where there was no hope for escape. A bitter mercy would be offered after nearly ten millennia when Doctor Immanuel Lugae managed to track down what remained of The Guardian of The Weak. The power-starved madman would be proud to unearth his discover and employ it to fulfill his own grand designs but even that freedom would mean little in the wake of having lost everything there was to gain.

Another appropriate sentence culled by the harvester of the sinners.

The Demon King allowed himself a smile as he faded from the mortal realm with Zalbarda in tow.

* * *

_Palace of Hashmalamum – November 1__st__ – 10:27 A.M._

The hilt of the blade was just as familiar as he remembered it, the instrument crafted with his own hands humming with the dark energies that rose to a roar when The Bane of Velius returned to the tender graces of its rightful owner. Allowing a contented sigh to escape his bright fangs and pale, pink lips, the demon calmly slipped the black blade within the scabbard strapped to his thick belt. Briefly raking over the stunned human at his feet with his tawny eyes, he let out another rumble of a laugh as he stooped down to offer a hand to the red-headed marksman. The boy offered no reply, just as the demon had expected, but that did not stop the hulking emperor from hefting Roy Harper back to his feet by the scruff of his vest.

"There, there now. Stand up straight like a proper boy," The Demon King lightly commanded while batting off some clumps of dust and ash that had gathered on Arsenal's chest and shoulders. The light force of his weighty palms proved to be enough to jolt the former Teen Titan back to some active form of thought and the fiend regarded his success with a smirk. "This is no way to react upon meeting someone you've tried so hard to get in touch with, least of all when The Demon King now owes you a debt of gratitude."

Roy hopped back like a startled squirrel, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. "What the. . . fuck. . ." he mumbled while continuing to stagger back across his own feet. "Are you. . ."

"Released from the bonds placed upon me by that foolish pretender?" The Demon King interceded with a knowing smile. "Yes, I am, Mister Harper, and I thank you for your concern. However, if you'll pardon me, my house has fallen into a bit of disarray over the course of my absence."

No dispute or call for rudeness was brought to the psychological battlefield as the demon turned towards the looming barrier above. Looking on mildly at the potential catastrophe, he rolled his neck about his shoulders to stretch out the kinks before going to his business.

"You would be wise to abandon your bargaining, Lord of Hashmalamum," rang the recommendation, his calm tone somehow booming over the cacophony around him. "For I'm afraid you'll find that any flimsy covenant you choose to cobble will only worsen your final withdrawal."

Having felt the damning presence well before The Demon King's explosive arrival through the ruins of his palace, Neron could do little more than stare into the eyes of the hunter as the Cytorrakian barrier flickered and died. Perhaps The Lord of Lies, were he more equipped to do so, could have taken some fueling rage from the hoarse laughter that leaked from Lloyd's lips but his energies were now fully devoted to making a full claim of his desired inheritance. Rushing at the regal fiend with all the power he could muster, Neron was emblazoned with confidence for a fraction of a second before he was sent crashing face-first to the ground by the free hand of The Demon King. The urge to scream bloody murder as black flames licked at his back was palpable but Neron managed to keep himself quiet, the demon feebly struggling to break free.

"You had the power gleaned from your little contract as well as Zalbarda's assistance in our last encounter," the lord of the netherrealms noted with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Now let's see how you do without those advantages."

The Demon King simply allowed Neron to return to his feet, his muscular arms stretched wide in a blatant offer for a "free shot", as it were. In response, the latest in less than a handful of monstrosities that had managed to momentarily get the better of the elder demon was found to be far too wrapped up in his past success to properly pay heed to his present failure. The Lord of Lies let loose another rain of purplish-black energy bolts, the same barrage that had nearly sealed the fates of Kara and Lloyd, and sent them screaming towards the true wielder of The Bane of Velius. As true as his claim was, however, The Demon King chose not to bring forward his scimitar to aid in his defense but merely allowed the attacks to batter against his powerful frame. A small percentage of the attacks managed to scratch against the demon's tunic while a scant supply even nicked his skin and drew blood but the vast majority merely slid off of him as if he were dealing with a rainstorm, his long pointed ears twitching in the midst of his amusement.

Still, ever willing to display his generosity, The Demon King allowed his actions to speak for him as he opened his lips wide and spat out a jagged beam of hellfire from his maw. The reddish-black bolt of energy seared through some of the still-advancing energy bolts before nearly completing its collision course with Neron's skull until the younger of the greater demons managed to hold back the attack at the last moment with his own fingertips. Gritting his teeth as the still proceeding assault inched its way forward, the inheritor of Edward Bloomberg's soul felt frustration within the bubbling of his hands and the burns against his face. Then, employing millennia worth of frustration and failed ascensions, Neron exclaimed a hardy roar as he cast The Demon King's attack aside, the sphere of energy crashing into and through the roof of his ruined palace and bringing down a rain of dust and stone that fell uselessly at his back.

Emboldened by his success, Neron fired back with a fierce look of defiance only to discover that The Demon King was nowhere to be found. Thus unencumbered, the demon was allowed the opportunity to properly take in Lloyd's soft laughter as the boy leaned on his lover's shoulder for support.

"Cor. What's the matter now, tosser?" the Brit asked in a decidedly smarmy manner. "Lookin' for something that's a bit over ya head?"

The words and the mocking laughter that followed was enough to compel the bargainer of souls to finish what he had so easily started. He soared towards the wounded duo, the demon's recognizing that the woman would lower her guard in order to protect her mate and inevitably doom them both. It was a reminder of the weakness of humanity that should have removed their claim as inheritors of the mortal realms as far as Neron was concerned but perhaps it was his own simply acceptance that prompted The Demon King to rise up from the ground and run Neron through with The Bane. The massive blade was easily buried to the hilt, the half that had passed through its target effortlessly escaping from the greater demon's back and lower torso with an explosion of black blood.

"Dirty pool, old man," The Demon King whispered while clamping his free hand around Neron's lips in order to silence his unrestrained scream, his right hand twisting so that the blade would scissor itself between two of Neron's ribs. "Still, I suppose it is a suitable end for your lackluster performance."

The last vestiges of Neron's shriek was soon streaking through the sky as The Demon King launched The Lord of Lies upwards with nothing more than the hilt of his blade. Of course, it was only natural that the owner of the black scimitar would wish to keep a sturdy hold of the mystical artifact so it didn't come as a great surprise when the regal demon endeavored to fetch it. Yanking the upper half of his blade upward so that the lower half would be forced to push its way through Neron's gut, the recently released demon flipped The Bane back to where he could take hold of the blood-soaked hilt and began to mercilessly slash away at his defenseless prey. Hundreds upon hundreds of cuts, each one drawing blood and severing limbs inch by ruthless inch, provided what most would think to be a fitting punishment for a demon who had spent his countless days drawing strength from the slightest weaknesses of others. The black magic of both the blade and its wielder left Neron slow to recover from the damage so it was little trouble for his tormentor to immerse his defenseless body in a massive wave of blackish-red energy that poured from the outstretched palm of the sovereign he had tried and failed to overthrow.

Meanwhile, several hundred feet below, the three mortals could only look bear witness to the changing of the guard.

"So _that's _where you learned that move from!" Kara exclaimed.

Restraining his chuckling, Lloyd turned to meet the bright eyes of his lover and smirked. "You're going to say that _every time _something like this happens, aren't you?"

"I should have thrown myself into the lava," Roy mumbled, the sharpshooter blocking out the lovers' laughter and refusing to watch the tender gestures that followed.

* * *

"Well, this is quite the surprise."

The last traces of the portal now far gone, Bruce Wayne found no reason not to turn around and face who remained. "Save the surprises and suspicions for later, Grodd," he gruffly ordered, the detective too occupied to garner much attention to what his partner/kidnapper would have to say. "We need to find Arrowette."

Grodd leveled the weakness with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Your concern for your latest junior partner may be noble but there are other matters to consider as well," he replied without missing a beat. "It was only thanks to the pact that I had made with Arthur Light that prevented the Abyssal Worms from stalking its prey. With him either occupied or no longer of this existence, this concord should be null and void and we should already be set upon."

"And that hasn't happened," Bruce journeyed on, the pale, quivering fingers of his right hand sliding against his equally clammy chin. Six months without food had left him a shell of what he could have been but the safety of another good person who had put his faith in him forced his powerful mind back to action. "Well, there are a number of distinct possibilities. Perhaps the unusual seismic activity brought about by the combat prompted them to either pitch towards or away from the clamor depending upon their disposition."

"That is a conceivable possibility," Grodd considered, his own stubby fingers scratching at some sore spots along his legs in an effort to incite neural activity through mild, physical stimuli. "Perchance whatever energy generated by the portals that kept The Demon King captive and their subsequent dissolving prompted a conscious desire to flee the unusual change in the eldritch make-up."

Both high-minded animals startled like frightened children as a small object burst from the rock floor beneath them. Having a half-second or so to consider the unusual appearance, the tired field generals could muster nothing better than confusion and shock but it wasn't every day that a person's head just suddenly popped out of 300 feet of solid limestone.

"Batsie!" Stephanie practically squealed before breaking the rest of her body free from the rest of her trappings. She was wrapped within a subdued aura of emerald energy and her orange-and-black armor was tattered and frayed. Her blonde hair was cluttered with dust, rock shards, and a few dabbles of black blood and her face was pockmarked by purplish bruises and a half-dozen cuts of varying severity but none of that was enough to convince the man behind The Batman to put up any kind of feeble resistance as the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns wrapped him into a hug so tight that it threatened to crack his weakened ribs.

He didn't return the gesture, his arms having been weakened and emaciated from the torture, but he didn't try and stop her either. In fact, as much as he hated to admit it, he had given up this battle a long time ago.

"Wow, you look like shit," Stephanie reported, her prognosis cobbled together with a hasty once-over of Bruce's profile before she lightly worried the left side of her head against his scarred chest. "I mean, I know you don't like to admit to it but you are getting up there. Old guys like you have to take better care of themselves."

Bruce somehow managed to summon the strength to keep his hands so that they were hovering close to Stephanie's back throughout the embrace e and the laughter that willingly tumbled from Robin's lips. His own impressive willpower allowed him to limit his reaction to a familiar smirk but the effort was still a trying time and it was nearly a godsend when a quick series of coughs gradually began to break up the proceedings.

"Then perhaps the both of you would cease the nauseating displays for when you're out of my sight," Grodd offered while lumbering his way forward. "Goodness knows I've already seen enough horrors this day to last for the rest of my existence."

The crabby retort, while not enough to keep the infectious grin off of Stephanie's worn lips and grimy teeth, was sufficient enough to convince her to pull away. "Hey, Donkey Kong made it too! So where's Cissie at? After all the hullabaloo with the portals my ring is pretty much on life support here."

"You mean you're not able to locate her?" Batman growled, his years of emotional withdrawal and the months of fatigue still managing to produce a pale imitation of the dread that he was feeling.

"No," Robin replied. "The only reason I found you guys was because I was able to trace the residual energy from the portal." It was a testament to the young woman's professionalism that she managed to get the explanation out since it was quite clear that she was more than willing to make up for Batman's stifling. "Bats, what the hell happened?"

Bruce was almost ready to instinctually order his voluble charge to calm herself down before Robin let out a panicked yelp and bounded to her left. The burst of speed leaving him muddled, Batman could only look on as Robin slid in front of Grodd only a moment before a spinning disc of scarlet energy could slice him in two. Covering his eyes as Stephanie deflected the solid energy with a burst of her own, his fuzzy ears could just barely make out a rough chortle that slithered from the passageway to the west. He could feel the burning sensation around his pupils as he unbound them before the prescribed time but he didn't need all of his faculties to recognize not only the S-shaped insignia emblazoned into the creature's chest but also the face of the demon that was forced to endure the indignity.

"Perhaps it would be best if you had been more concerned for yourselves," advised Sabbac, the greater demon's cool tones doing little to hide his sweltering hatred. "Perhaps then you wouldn't have become something more than swine to be presented to the magician and his alien whore!"

* * *

As rebellious as he had been in the face of Kara and Lloyd's cuddling, Arsenal found his rarely deployed supply of stunned silence as The Demon King drifted down to face them directly. The Bane of Velius remained in the demon's right hand, the blade's faultless construction not sullied in the least by its labors though it was all but coated in the blood of The Lord of Lies. His left hand was bathed within a sheath of energy, the remains of Neron's soul and spirit, which twisted from white to black to a variety of shades of grey that presented an even finer example of which demon should have earned his fear. Swallowing another round of phlegm, spittle, and trepidation as the demon blithely smoothed out the ruffles that had accumulated over the front of his tunic, the young father found himself quite grateful that the tawny eyes of The Demon King seemed to be focused solely on his more powerful compatriots.

"Let it be known, Child of The House of El, that you should consider yourself privileged to witness a display that your paramour has so shamelessly pilfered and yet failed to duplicate," The Demon King replied with a smooth and sonorous timbre. Then, taking Kara's comparatively tiny right hand into his hulking left paw, he pressed a tender kiss against the pale skin that left a sliver of brimstone to rise from her hand and a chuckle to emerge from the half-Kryptonian's lips before he turned to grace the aforementioned paramour. "No need for animosities, magician. Despite the reputation leveled onto me by your fellow humans, I would not lower myself to pilfering the happiness of a former student."

Lloyd grumbled, at least for decency's sake, as he strode forward and took the extended hand. "The thought never entered my mind, mate," he replied, the Brit wincing slightly as The Demon King's searing grasp bit mildly into his left hand. "Besides, according to my math, I believe you still owe me a debt."

"Ah, indeed I do. And rest assured that such obligations will be fulfilled in their due course," the demon confessed before rising back to his full height, his pointed head easily a meter above the latest visitors to his domain. "The souls of all who reside here eternally or await their departure are in your debt, mortals. Without your intervention, Neron's attempts to overcome his limitations would have endangered countless lives. Furthermore, you have my utmost assurances that the sacrifices made by Mister Allen and Mister Todd will be eternally remembered even if their souls are not present to accept their rightful rewards."

"Jesus Christ," Roy mumbled once again in the wake of the high-minded compliments. Then, realizing how he replied, the former Teen Titan took another frantic look at the massive demon before clamping his mouth shut once again. _The __**devil**__. Kara and Lloyd are Twitter buddies with the fucking devil! _

A light rumble poured from the throat of The Demon King as he strode forward to grasp the anxious human by his shoulder. "If it will make you feel better, Mister Harper, that particular nom de guerre is only one of the many titles your kind have established for me. And, seeing as how I am in your debt due to your diligence in keeping The Bane of Velius from the clutches of Neron's lieutenant, perhaps you would rather refer to me as Dabura. It is the name that Mister Thomas and many of his ilk have been prone to do."

By now Roy's skin had grown a shade of pale bright enough to contend with even the worst of his heroin withdrawals. Then, finding the peculiarity of the connection and turning to meet the amused looks of two people he had come to trust, the young father took another thick swallow before letting loose a fairly cocky smirk.

"All right then," he finally responded. ""Guess it's nice to know to have a friend on either of the other sides."

The smile returned to Dabura's angular face as he pulled his hand back, the greater demon spreading his arms wide as he regarded his rescuers. "Let us hope that the other newcomer will have such a similar agreeability."

The meaning behind the demon's words became clear as the remains of the palace were awash within the wake of a wave of kinetic energy as The Flash sped his way into the proceedings. Looking tired but otherwise hearty, the speedster left a gust of wind in his wake that enabled his slower comrade to keep pace, the gray-haired half-demon drifting up through the expansive confines of the palace's central chamber before swooping his way back down to where the others stood waiting for him. If anything else, the time Edward Bloomberg needed to coast his way down into what the young hero had obviously guessed to be a peaceful setting allowed Wally West to take a firm measure of the stranger within his midst.

"Please tell me that you're the demon that we're supposed to be helping," The Flash finally ventured, the former Justice Leaguer wise in looking out for any possible sign of coercion. It was a gesture that deserved respect and The Demon King provided it easily with a slow nod.

"Indeed I am, Wallace West. Moreover, I must add that your assistance was quite helpful and worthy of some amount of acclaim," Dabura replied, the regal monstrosity clearly quite comfortable with leading his motley court. "Your uncle was a brave man who deserved the right to see to as well as witness the continued well-being of those he held dear. As such, I shall repay my debt to you and the late Mister Allen by taking on what he no longer can."

Wally hopped backward as Dabura moved forward, The Flash's lissome arms bending into a standard Wushu defensive stance and remaining there even as the demon stooped to bend down on one knee.

"As of this day forward, the humans known as Jai and Iris West shall remain in my eternal protection," the demon pledged, his clawed fingers bent with the fortitude of his words. "Whatever need they require, be it for themselves or those they care for, shall be assured so long as such graces are within my power to provide them."

As one might imagine, The Fastest Man Alive was decidedly unable to produce an entirely coherent response. Indeed, The Demon King would merely have to make a giddy due with a series of sputters and half-uttered phrases while allowing the surrounding mortals to either look on in shared shock or share a knowing look.

"Sure beats the standard life insurance policy," Lloyd supplied with a stage whisper, his assurances earning him a slap to the shoulder and a chuckle from Kara. It was a gesture that was kindly meant and nauseating to see (at least from the perspective of two red-haired, former Teen Titans) but it wasn't enough to keep Kara from looking stern as she advanced forward.

"And just what of the souls that were extinguished in the battle to free you, Dabura? Is there any way that they can be collected once again?"

Dabura shook his head. "Neron's attempts to merge the mortal realm to the nether dimensions may have produced a great many odd circumstances but the status of the soul remains the same. Those that sacrificed themselves in this battle, be their intentions noble or a desperate grasp for redemption, shall forever be impossible to reclaim." The softly spoken rejoinder cast a flicker of a shadow upon the already dark proceedings as the regal demon examined the faces of those that had already played so much of a part in it all. "That being said," he made certain to add quickly. "My recent absence has left me woefully behind on my duties and it appears that I have some claims to collect as quickly as possible."

Both Roy and Wally took a step back as Dabura spun to face the former unwilling servant of Neron. That servant, displaying the courage that had steered him through trials that would have shattered the wills of half-bloods ten times his age, responded by performing his finest interpretation of a deer caught in the head lights as he was advanced upon by what many considered to be the alpha creation of his adopted kind.

"And this, invariably, brings us to you, Edward Bloomberg," Dabura eagerly began again as he looked down upon the shrunken, grey-haired young creature trying desperately not to cower. "I have examined the contract you made with Neron and find it to be grossly unfair as it concerns to what I receive in the exchange. You see, now that I have taken up Neron's 'transactions', for lack of a better term, I must confess that I have little need for the soul of a studio gopher or an emotionally insecure teenaged vigilante who is led about the horns by a grey-haired violence addict."

It was clear that Eddie's mind was so busy processing the verbose explanation that his body wasn't the least bit prepared as it felt Dabura's left hand clamp down on his adjacent shoulder. Like Wally before him, Kid Devil tried his best not to shudder or stammer as The Demon King leveled his attentions with a knowing smirk.

"I'll simply take your startled silence as an agreement that a new proposal shall be established," Dabura wisely hypothesized, his smile now showing a hint of fang. "You are free to keep your soul as well as your ill-gotten powers so long as you stay well away from my sights and attentions. You may continue about your paltry adventures and hormonal urgings until the end of your days and then, when that moment comes, we shall see where the fates choose to place you."

Eddie's frantic search for confirmation quickly brought his eyes to Kara and Lloyd and both parties were quick to assure him. The half-demon's ungainly mannerisms and lively agreement was worthy of at least a small round of amusement from those around him but the good mood was soon interrupted by the arrival of a sordid soul whose presence was immediately detected by Dabura and by Kara, Lloyd, and Wally soon after. Regardless of the hows and whens, everyone twisted their attentions towards the eastern hallway to witness the slow strides of the newfound presence, his heavy but still subdued pace almost looking like an insult to the demon's proud reputation.

Notwithstanding of that, if it was affirmation that Za'hafal-nesh was seeking as made his way into the proceedings then the hostile stare from Kara and the utter neutrality of Dabura and Lloyd indicated that his journey had been for naught.

"Well then, Guardian of The Weak," Dabura finally broke in, the demon's employment of one of Za'hafal-nesh's more flattering designations drawing a sliver of the attention back towards him. "I was planning on honoring my debt to Mister Thomas in my own fashion but I imagine that you may have something to say in that regard."

As one might imagine, the black-clad demon was understandably cautious in the face of the demon that had kept him confined for nearly a dozen millennia. "Respected Demon King, I wish to be rebound with the body and soul of Mister Thomas," he inevitably began, his words laced with a cautious humility. "With the human's consent, of course."

Dabura prolonged the affair with a contemplative hum that held sway for several long moments before the demon said what had already been long formed within his mind. "It would be a simple labor, Mister Thomas. And, unlike the work of Immanuel Lugae, a successful fusion would allow you complete control over The Condemner's significant powers. . ."

"But not without a price!" Kara seethed back, her eyes already showing traces of crimson as she stood between demon and man. Allowing a second to display her righteous anger at The Condemner, she quickly shifted gears and fixed Lloyd still with a desperate look. "Lloyd, you know what will happen if you let him back in! You were never meant to take in all of that power and eventually you're going to die because of it."

Lloyd remained still and silent as the two most important creatures in his life lobbied for his attention in their own ways. His heart stirred and threatened to crack as he examined Kara's strength and warmed as Za'hafal-nesh tried his damndest to remain as stern and unyielding as he had always taught him to. Even Roy and Wally looked ready to intercede and that simple recognition still seemed like a foreign discovery to a man who had been willingly orphaned as a child.

But it wasn't enough to allow him to give in to it. He had to keep listening because he knew he wouldn't have been able to look any of them in the eye if he didn't keep his wits about him at this moment.

"There's no denying that Lugae's work has shortened Lloyd's life already," The Condemner noted. "Additionally, there is little way of determining how long either one of us will survive if we continue our journey together. However, it would still be my honor if I were to conclude my lengthy service towards humanity, flawed as it may be, while remaining within the graces of the man privileged to own so much of your heart, Miss Zor-el."

The pledge was blatantly heartfelt and, given the speaker's many years and accomplishments, a gesture of utmost nobility.

Kara snarled as if she had been presented with a simple mound of dung.

"He doesn't have to do anything more for you! This is the man I love and I refuse to just stand by and leave him to do what you want him to do. His whole life he's been jerked around by one person after the other and he's _earned _the opportunity to try and make the best with what he has left."

"And that's what I'll be doing, luv."

Kara would have given everything not to let out a defeated gasp but it managed to slink away from her regardless. She had never been one to cater to failure and this was decidedly no different. The incoherent rage that always seemed to hang about was eager in its desire to rise to the surface but the daughter of Zor-el managed to stifle it by shutting her eyes tight. She continued to hide herself from the world even as she felt a coarse pair of lips press against her left eyelid before it slid across her forehead, the unique sensation tempting her to wrap her tired arms around Lloyd's back and hold on with as tight of a grip as he could endure.

"All right, fine," she unsteadily mumbled into her lover's chest, his close proximity allowing her to resist the urge to unnecessarily shed a tear. "But whatever time we've got. . . you _better _make it memorable."

To hold back his laughter was to save his own heart as far as Lloyd was concerned. Then, prying himself loose from Kara's hold, he strode up to face the armored monstrosity that awaited him. He suddenly realized that this was their first true meeting face-to-face, the last time that he would be able to curse or thank or condemn or apologize to the noble beast that remained inspired by the tragic betrayals of 120 centuries before.

"Right then. Ready to return to duty, old man?"

There was no way to tell with the massive helm covering his face but a part of Lloyd couldn't help but believe that the demon was smiling.

"Eternally, my teishu."

* * *

Sabbac slowly paced around the three fatigued warriors, the greater demon eager to complete the hunt but far too drawn by the anticipation to avoid pulling himself towards it for a moment. He savored it, in fact, as a slight tremor from the caverns far to the northeast provided another air of foreboding that he never would have appreciated if he was simply Ishmael Gregor, Russian mob boss and ceaseless pursuer of the finite. His newfound awareness allowed him to recognize that what he brought about here would be petty as well but the demons that powered him allowed it and were looking forward to it, the beasts within agreeing with the monster he always had been that such insignificant crimes were a small price to pay to fuel the constant vigilance that would enable him to inevitably achieve what he truly desired.

"My employer has seen that the Abyssal Worms will not interfere with this affair," the demon boldly revealed, his crimson-red skin flaring with energy that had nearly been robbed from him by that blonde-haired harlot who took such contentment in scarring him. "The allies of my enemies do not deserve the mercy that such mindless beasts could offer."

"I'm pleased to say that you fight for a rootless cause, demon," Grodd reported while shouldering Robin aside, the massive gorilla sounding soured after having been saved by the juvenile ring-wielder. "The Demon King has been released and Neron has fallen. You would be best to take stock of your surroundings and withdraw while you still have the opportunity."

Sabbac tendered a ruthless smile as a haze of hellfire billowed up around him. "Did I ever mention the name of my commander, beast? Still, I suppose he would be pleased that his suspicions of your inadequacies would be so easily confirmed."

The scene was delectable for the demon but, as was often the case in moments like these, one of Batman's spawn sprung in quickly to try their best to ruin it. However, this one lacked the eons of battle experience or the raw power and rage harnessed by a madman and was hampered by numerous difficult battles before to boot. He admired Robin's determination and her blind loyalty but such rare virtues were the last things that Gregor desired to focus upon. He weaved his way through the flurry of lashes and slashes before dashing the girl's emerald claws with a hard right hook to the skull, the speed and prowess provided by Belial allowing him to overcome the girl's waning energies.

"You'd do well to stay down, slut," Sabbac grumbled after slamming his right foot into Stephanie's gut with such force that she barreled through two of the stone columns before finally rolling roughly against the cave floor. He made certain to keep his back turned from the rest of his quarry in the meantime, the greater demon well aware that at least one of them would be tempted by the opening. He waited for the growl and the looming shadow above before lashing out with a powerful backhand that sent Grodd soaring away as if he had been a fly. Turning about fully, he caught the quartet of bladed Batarangs thrown his way, the demon's searing touch melting the steel alloy even while he endured the impact of a trio of explosive darts without so much as batting an eye. As the smoke cleared, he took a moment to treasure the tastiest morsel of the lot as the wounded human bent his body into a defensive stature despite the worthlessness of the instinctual motions.

"Well, I see no reason to delay this any longer," the greater demon declared while Batman limped desperately for cover. "The dreamer has awakened, Bruce Wayne, and it is time for the bringer of nightmares to claim his eternal rest."

Another gout of hellfire escaped from Sabbac's maw, this one black as the darkest night and seemingly destined to be the end of The Dark Knight of Gotham City as it relentlessly pursued its slow-moving target. That confidence understood, neither Gregor nor the monstrosities that inhabited him were surprised when a streak of green soared to intercept it. It was a fruitless gesture and all parties were aware of it in the seconds that passed like hours but the demon waited patiently for his reward.

A deafening scream served as the front of the procession in the second most horrifying moment in Bruce Wayne's life.

* * *

"NO!"

Kara sprinted towards Lloyd as she naturally feared the worst, her right arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders as his lover trembled and groaned. Kid Devil let out a gasp, the Boy Scout turned demon instantly attentive to the sound of distress but he was soon ordered still by The Demon King. Even Roy made a beeline for his boss and friend but was stopped by Wally in a heartbeat, the younger of the two former Titans far too numb to have anything but a cool head. A shared understanding reached, the two redheads chose to remain still and stewing as The Black Dog managed to get a hold of himself, their only interaction a silent question and a quick look when Lloyd reawakened to the world with eyes several tones brighter than the hazel hue he had been given as a child.

"I'm. . . I'm fine," The Black Dog finally replied, his eyes shifting again so that they regained the sliver of silver that marked him as being bonded with The Condemner. "Dabura, would you please look after our companion until we are able to claim her body? We must return to the manor immediately. It's the only way."

"What the hell? What's the only way?" Roy asked while unconsciously weaving around Wally, his previous restraint already beginning to run thin. "Come on, boss. Talk to us here. What's going on?"

Lloyd couldn't quite bring himself to a proper response even with the constitution that came with the power that once again flowed through his veins. Harshly drifting away from Tara Markov as she carried a grisly package towards the palace, his supernatural attentions were forced to bear witness to the words of one like him, a man that had taken on the ambitions of a god and bent them into his own design.

"_The message has been delivered," _he said with great satisfaction as frantic hands batted away at the flames. "_How appropriate that the constant prattler would spend her last moments squealing." _

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

So how about those Packers, huh?

* * *

_Issue #118 Preview_

It's funny how so many of us try to define our lives by the grandest things we experience. Our first love, our education, our means of making a living. . . maybe it's just the fact that there's so few of them to work with and that makes it easier to do what needs to be done. Perhaps it makes us feel better when we ultimately realize that the important things that are supposed to define who we are as an individual have already been long claimed by somebody else. Whatever the case, it's also safe to say that what truly determines who we are and how we will be remembered are the little things that steer us towards what we ultimately become.

For Stephanie. . . it was about that one, little lapse.

Join us next time for the penultimate issue of _Hell is Other People_ and the next installment of _The Misfits_. . . Center of the third step. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	118. The Center of the third step

Issue #118

Center of the third step

_Wayne Manor – November 1__st__ – 11:27 A.M._

Doctor Leslie Thompkins was just on the verge of getting her breath back as The Flash slowly opened the double doors that separated the spacious lobby of the mansion from the pristine courtyard decorated by a round of late morning snowfall. Shaken but still determined, the wizened caregiver trudged through the created gap and composed herself while taking a moment to witness the bustle within the surrounding rooms. The kitchen was alive with noise and she could just make out Alfred as he held court amidst a litany of faces that were largely unfamiliar to her save for a haggard-looking Rose Wilson and the ever-present mound of noise that was Nigel Thornton. Shifting her sights away from the rotund bartender, Leslie's aged eyes quickly caught sight of others clustered around the day room. Some of them were quietly arguing one matter or the other while others remained silent either waiting for what was next or simply too fatigued from what had already come and gone.

"Sorry about having to get you here so quickly," Wally said, his contrite tone even showing signs of his weariness. "It's just that he insisted that you be here for this and I didn't think your patients would be comfortable with the teleporters. . ."

"Oh, it's quite all right, Wally," Leslie quickly intervened, the slight pat she gave to the young father's shoulder silencing whatever further explanation he thought he needed to provide. "I can't allow a little bit of my own discomfort to stop me from doing what I can to help others." It was with a well-practiced motion that her fingers craftily snuck their way to the pink remains of a nasty scab that ran down The Flash's nose and upper lip. "Speaking of which, has anyone bothered to check up on your bumps and bruises?"

Wally's frown turned into a smirk before he managed to pull away, the speedster managing to see at least a little bit of what Bruce and Richie had long admired about the doctor. "I heal really quick, ma'am," he offered with a shaky imitation of his carefree grin. "Besides, there's lots of people that need more worrying over right now than me and some of them are already waiting upstairs."

Leslie provided a knowing smirk of her own, the lifetime pacifist knowledgeable enough of war to know a clever maneuver when she saw one. "Very well then, Mister West," she eventually relented while the two of them made their way to the central stairwell. "I've often thought that this home to be a breeding ground for mulish behavior. Still, you'd do well to teach your children to not be so stubborn."

Wincing at the calculated strike, The Flash was momentarily distracted as an obstruction swerved into their path. Throwing an arm in front of Leslie in an unconscious attempt to protect her, the red-headed former Justice Leaguer found himself taken aback, as he commonly was by this particular distraction, while the statuesque impediment came to a sudden stop as well.

"Oh! My apologies, Wallace!" the lovely creature exclaimed, her decades of training in the arts of mediation and poise managing to override the instinctual irritation of the mighty Amazon. "I was hoping to run into you but not like that."

Dry-throated in spite of himself, The Flash took a moment to think about his wife and swallowed his pride before stepping up to speak. "Well, we are in a bit of a rush here, Wonder Woman."

Quick with her wits as she tended to be in a time of emergency, the raven-haired emissary of Themyscira turned her deep, blue eyes toward Leslie. "Ah, yes, you must be Bruce's doctor," Wonder Woman assumed, the distinctive employment of title briefly drawing the caregiver's attentions. "Well, then I shall not keep you away for long. I merely wished to offer Wallace my sympathies for the death of his friend. From what little I knew of her, she was a spirited soul and worthy of a far longer life than what was given to her."

Sobered by the lingering reality, The Flash offered back a courteous nod. "Indeed she did," he said with as little brusqueness as he could muster. "That being said, we've still got some lives on the line here. . ."

"Of course, of course," Wonder Woman replied, the occasionally proud warrior needing no more clarification as she promptly stepped aside. "May your labor reap its deserved rewards, sister."

Leslie was offered little time as Wally hustled her along. As unruffled as she had been by her Mach 5 journey to the manor, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the silent majesty of one of the world's most warmly regarded figures. "Is that. . ." she managed to mumble before reason finally got the better of her. "Wally, was she speaking about. . ."

"No, no," The Flash quickly replied, the young husband and father biting his lip in the midst of remembering a regret. "She's. . . talking about Cissie."

The wind was once again pried loose from Doctor Thompkins's lungs. "Cecilia," she managed to murmur out, her memories of the clever young woman already coming to mind along with the coupling dismay that there wouldn't be any chance to add on to them. Of course, the stress was a familiar one, the unexpectedness of the inevitable quite frequent within her chosen profession and she stifled down the sadness as she always had. "Well, God forgive me but there are other things to be worried about. Please lead me. . ."

The words were stolen from the physician once again as a blur of coffee-and-black swept in from the left. A hint of exasperation lingered in her thoughts but Leslie was not hard-hearted enough to express it as Wally swept his youngest child into his arms. After all, it was quite likely that the diligent speedster had been too busy to reunite with his young family and Iris's eager toddling as she rushed to join in the family embrace all but confirmed it. Linda, of course, was only a few steps behind, the Korean-American newswoman gamely supplying the stability within the shouts and the tears of the family reunion.

_Feeling a bit held up, Doc?_

Leslie let out a hasty but controlled breath, the old woman quite grateful that her inquirer had limited himself to the barest whisper. _"I'm afraid so, Mister Thomas,_" she then silently replied to the British telepath. _"Are you and Bruce nearby?"_

"_Yeah, we're in the old man's bedroom," _Lloyd answered back, his calm, patient tones a signature of the handful of times he had interacted with Leslie in this unusual manner. _"Just keep calm and still for a mo' and I'll bring you on up."_

The caregiver promptly followed the gentleman's request, the only distraction stemming from the thought that this would be the second time that she had been a second-hand recipient of a power that was well past her capacity. Hearing the slight _pop_ and feeling the feather-light grip of Lloyd's calloused hands, Leslie could only blink before she found herself in Bruce's room. It was a silent setting, just as it commonly was on most occasions, but it soon became apparent that the sadness that hung about in the present time had nothing to do with the pain of long ago.

_Stephanie. Oh, no. No. _

It was almost too much for Leslie to keep the words from escaping her lips. She had been warned of the damage and the horrible visage that would come with it but the sight of Robin's badly burned body draped on top of Bruce's formerly pristine goose-down comforter and once-flawless silk bed sheets was still enough to churn her heart and stomach. The charred remains of the young woman's body armor had been removed and stacked in an ashen pile to the right of the bed but there was still little need to protect the girl's modesty. Her skin was essentially little more than splotches of black and pink intermixed with the distractions of blistered muscle and bone, her eyes draped over with dried ash and her nose hanging from a barely hanging tendon. A sweet vision had been replaced by a grisly monstrosity and it was all Leslie could do but to remember the obnoxious but vibrant woman that had lightened up the occasionally gloomy confines of her clinic with her bright smile and her constant attempt to spread that joy to others.

And another part of Leslie Thompkins, a sickly, dark portion of her, wondered if she was responsible for this as well. Had she not needed to will herself back to the world of the living, wouldn't it be true that Stephanie would not have to endure her current misery?

_No_, the old woman recognized, her determination suddenly coming back to her in spades. _Now's not the time to be thinking such things. Right now it's time to try and make up for what I've done, just like we all have to._

It was then that Leslie noticed the gaunt stature of the brooding griever. Biting back another instinctual desire to break away from her duties, the doctor forced herself to calmly look upon Bruce's red-rimmed eyes and the prominent, silver-black pockets of fatigued flesh beneath them that made the detective look as if he had never slept. His chest was bare save for a tight, fresh supply of bandages that nearly succeeded in covering the prominent portions of scar tissue along his torso while the top of his head featured slightly older cloth bindings that were already turning a light shade of pink from the continued blood loss along his forehead. It was hardly an unfamiliar physical state of being for the man but the psychological splaying was a rarely seen feat as every ounce of his attention seemed to be devoted to the still presence lying in the bed.

"Well, I don't suppose that I could convince you to be rational and get some sleep," Leslie began with the tone of an irritated mother as she moved to get a closer look at her actual patient. She repressed her shuddering as several ashen flakes of skin sloughed off of Stephanie's wrist and slid down her fingertips as she attempted to find a pulse. "Or at least get some food into that obviously malnourished stomach of yours," she added while frowning at her results.

Bruce looked back at his determined caregiver with a hollow interpretation of "The Batglare" that Stephanie had always enjoyed making fun of. "Just see to her," he then replied with a hoarse whisper, his long, bony fingers on both hands stretching against each other so that purplish veins slowly emerged from his palms. "That's what's important right now," he elaborated with a dark threat before moving back to allow Lloyd some room to move, his stormy, blue eyes remaining on Robin the entire time.

Lloyd made certain to move quickly as he performed another check on a menagerie of intravenous-delivery devices doubtlessly brought up from Alfred's medical workshop below the manor. "_That's a battle that's already been fought, Doc," _the Brit offered while moving back around to the foot of the bed just as Bruce scooted his chair back in. _"Kara was threatenin' to put the git into a coma before we could convince him to sit still and let Alfred wrap 'im up."_

"_Oh, good heavens," _Leslie fretted back through the unspoken contact as she continued her examination. _"He could need urgent medical attention. . ."_

"_He'll be fine, all things and people considered," _Lloyd intervened while moving to the right side of the bed, his nimble fingers quickly flicking switches and bringing life to a heart monitor and a pair of shock panels. _"Kara and I both did a diagnosis and the only real thing to worry about is some malnutrition and the laceration along the forehead. . ."_

"Feel free to swap stories when somebody's life _isn't _on the line," Bruce snapped back at both Leslie and his second-in-command, his words devoid of either the practiced charm of the billionaire fop or the determined grumble of The Dark Knight of Gotham City. "Don't worry about me. Worry about _her_."

"Oh, would you just clam up, man!" Lloyd snapped back, the half-demon's impatience understandably getting the better of him. "We're doing everything we can! We go into something like this half-cocked and we'll be doing more harm than. . ."

"Bruce, I don't know what you want me to do here!" Leslie exclaimed while moving to make another check of Lloyd's preparations. Of course, it hardly took six years in medical school to recognize that the Brit hadn't bothered to turn on the feeding tubes or the other IV devices. "I'm not detecting a pulse, I've seen no presence of breathing. . ."

"Yeah, she's dead," Lloyd threw in while devoting his hands to delving into a leather pouch he had placed by the chair across from Bruce's. "Shuffled off this mortal coil for a good forty minutes, I'm estimatin'. And, despite all that, that ring on her finger has yet to move on to its new owner."

Perhaps it was only natural that Leslie couldn't put the pieces of the puzzle together as quick as Lloyd was apparently expecting her to. After all, her mind was already quite well cluttered with priceless valuables that Lloyd himself would need years to obtain. However, she was aware enough of the peculiar instrument on Stephanie's finger to recall the young woman telling her that the Oan power ring was supposed to carry itself towards its future owner upon the demise of their current one. Just as Kosar Knoll'takk had provided Stephanie with a ways and means of standing toe-to-toe with the nastiest opponents the galaxy had to offer, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns was supposed to relinquish control of the eldritch artifact and yet it hadn't happened.

"Stupid little genius," Lloyd said, his voice warbling for just a flicker. "The little bint spent so much time learning how to make the ring a part of her that she actually managed to do it." With sure hands he smoothed back the few remaining strands of blonde hair on the head of his adopted little sister. "That's why she rarely ever needed to charge the ring with her battery. She found a way to do it with her own willpower!"

Leslie shook her head to and fro as Lloyd began to fiddle with the leads of the electrocardiogram and connected them to Stephanie's calves and wrists. "Lloyd. . . I'm sorry, I still don't understand," the doctor confessed, hopelessly thrown. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me."

Despite Bruce's consternation, Lloyd managed to startle Doctor Thompkins with his own bright smile. "She's in the ring!" he shouted back while moving to empty out the few, remaining items within the pouch. "Tweety somehow managed to will her soul and spirit into the ring so that it could eventually recharge and get strong enough to reunite with her body and bring her back to life. Of course, the problem there is that she can't complete the transfer on her own and that's why she needs me to do my job while you do yours."

_Yes, of course, _Leslie couldn't help but think, the bewildering proposal allowing the old doctor to reach the point of human nature where you couldn't help but allow somebody else to try and keep you going. "Well, just what is it that I need to do here?" she asked as The Black Dog motioned for Bruce to lay next to Stephanie on her left-hand side. "I. . . it just seems as if you already have much of. . . whatever this is under your control."

Already caught within a series of hand motions that prompted a forest-green sigil to surround the luxuriant divan, Lloyd did have the presence of mind to fire back with a sheepish smile. _"Sorry, Doc. Been a long couple of days so my courtesies may be comin' up short,_" he confessed while concocting a telepathic entreaty that convinced Bruce's famished mind to surrender its fight and commit to convincing the connecting body to fall into a deep sleep. "Right. Now that Gentleman Grumble is out of our hair, I'll try to explain. I'm about to place Bruce and what's left of Stephanie through what mystics in the Algonquin tribes referred to as a soul-binding ritual. It was something originally meant to appease the restless spirits that were forced from their bodies before their time by giving them an opportunity to confer with their loved ones before departing fully from the world of the living."

"I understand," Leslie replied, the gray-haired caregiver wondering if she had ever told a more bald-faced lie in her long life. "But I'm guessing that this isn't what you're trying to accomplish."

Lloyd unnecessarily shook his head. "Well, given that the soul is willingly stuck, Stephanie's supernatural energy should be enough to recover her body to the point where the rest of her can jump back inside. All she needs is a living vessel to hold on to her for a little while and our best shot for making that happen is to make certain it's stored into someone who she trusts and cares for completely. And, subsequently, somebody who trusts and cares for her completely in turn"

Leslie couldn't help but be astonished but it wasn't by the implications of what Lloyd or even Stephanie was trying to do. "Bruce," she said wistfully, the thought of such a lost boy gaining such a powerful bond lightening a sunken part of the old woman's heart. "So you want me to keep an eye on Bruce?"

"And Stephanie if and when the need arises," Lloyd answered while shutting his eyes. _"An' since you were thinkin' it, the Mikumwess ritual is supposed to bring both souls to where they first began their bond, the first moment when the deceased and the trespasser amongst the ether began to march upon the same road."_

Leslie absorbed the metaphor as she moved to check on Bruce, her suspicion momentarily getting the better of her as she briefly examined the outer edges of his bat-shaped scar. Unsure of if or how she should respond, she was kind enough to busy herself with her necessary errands until Lloyd informed her that she could speak openly as he chanted. "So when would that be, exactly? Perhaps when she first became Robin?"

It was only another handful of seconds before Lloyd's invocations were completed. The duty done, the clever magician briefly revealed his hazel eyes only to immediately drop the left one with a mischievous wink.

"Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it."

* * *

Wonder Woman continued to loom upon the periphery, the iconic champion of the Amazons acutely aware of the fact that her place here was an uncertain one. Despite knowing a good percentage of the people that surrounded her, Linda and Wallace in particular, these poignant moments between family and friends after another hard trial were things she felt uncomfortable being privy to. Her long quest to seek her own identity between the world of her birth and the world she was meant for had long left Diana starved to seek moments that belonged to only her and the thought of poaching that possibility from others was often enough to hackle her usually stern senses. The tendency was an odd dichotomy given her work as an emissary, a hero to billions and a villain to what she hoped to be slightly less but it was also her faults and she had been informed on plenty of occasions that she should occasionally embrace such understandable errors in judgment.

Shaking her thoughts away from the unnecessary debate, Wonder Woman found herself being pushed back towards the sight of Roy Harper comforting his young daughter. Much like the affairs of many of Donna's old friends, Diana knew precious little of the young father and former Teen Titan but still managed to hold respect for the man who so willingly chose to serve as a source of stability and strength for others after such a hard road to adulthood. Her own experiences with his foster father was enough to convince Diana that the Roy's life had been decidedly short on sanctuaries but it was clear that the hunter had worked hard to put himself in a better place. By all accounts, he had built a life where he deserved the love and affection of the fiery, raven-haired youth trying her best not to give in to her sadness.

_Another potential sister_, she thought with an unexpected smirk. _Another worthy soul cultured by this unusual home._

Her sharp ears picked up the sound of familiar footsteps and Diana turned to meet them. Striding to meet the newcomer halfway, she was pleasantly surprised to be met with an extended hand and an open wrist but she kept her cool composure and clasped the offered forearm in a traditional Amazonian greeting of reunited warriors.

"Apologies for my tardiness, Wonder Woman," Kara Zor-el said briefly, her tone betraying no emotion. "As you can probably guess, it's been a pretty busy couple of days."

"I understand," Diana answered back, the memories of the formerly shy woman effortlessly holding court over The Watchtower still fresh in her mind as she wondered about all the possibilities that could have brought about such a drastic transformation. "Still, I must confess that I'm at a loss as to why you invited me specifically."

"Well, you'll soon find out," Kara allowed before turning her back to Diana, her unwavering actions sending out a silent order that her guest was to follow without complaint. Finding herself more intrigued than offended, the star-spangled Justice Leaguer kept pace with the fair-haired alien as they twisted through the surrounding crowd and into another side room. Paying a mild heed to the towering stacks of books that ran along the walls, she allowed herself to be steered throughout the well-lit library on the way to meet another familiar presence.

"So pleased that you've finally chose to speak with me," Jason Blood told Kara with a decidedly sour tone, the former Justice Leaguer obviously not sharing the same penchant for patience that Diana was shooting for. "Perhaps now you can explain why I was forbid to join Mister Thomas in the Mikumwess ritual. After all, even a power-sated woman such as yourself could understand that my expertise in this field of recovery could better ensure Miss Brown's survival."

Diana looked on as Kara let out a quick breath, the possible sign of backing down adding a new piece to the proceedings. "There's something we need from you that's of greater importance," Kara insisted, her crystalline-blue eyes remaining as resolutely set as before. "I need some questions answered and the only creature that can provide them is Etrigan so please summon him."

Blood cocked his eyebrows ever so slightly, the immortal warlock far too proud to resort to stumbles or sputters. "Miss Zor-el, I have not spent centuries restraining the ambitions of a greater demon merely to be able to summon it at the barest whim. I'm afraid that I'll have to know more of your ambitions before I consider them worthy of my time."

Kara responded with a polite nod, her right leg letting out a bit of a quiver before she widened her eyes and provided a polite smile. "Well, then how about you consider this as the first step in repaying the debt you owe to Lloyd for protecting you from Zalbarda both before and after you lost control of that greater demon of yours," she replied, the pointed counter yielding a glower from Blood and a barely-subdued chuckle from Wonder Woman.

"Very well, then," Blood relented while placing his lanky arms at his sides. The words employed to summon the demonic half of him were delivered with a practiced whisper, his efficient work eliminating any potential release of hellfire or brimstone as the sorcerer transformed into the scarlet-eyed, orange-skinned, unwilling servant of man.

Never one to not appreciate the beauty of the female form, Etrigan presented an unrepentant leer directed straight away at perhaps the two most powerful women walking the planet. "_How now, fair maiden of sullied prestige, thine anger inflames the. . ."_

A shower of books rained down on the unusual trio as Kara slammed the greater demon straight into one of the stacks, her powerful right hand pressing against Etrigan's neck with such force that the beast could only let out a hoarse chuckle.

"Huh," noted Wonder Woman, the buxom powerhouse quite unfazed by the unexpected turn of events. "This place never does seem to lack for entertainment."

* * *

_Gotham City – Southeastern Rizoate County_

Captain Guy Beatty was hard at work well before the No. 7 engine came to a stop, his experienced eyes analyzing the mounting blaze that consumed the large but still modest tenement complex that ran alongside the aged asphalt. The call had come in 12 minutes ago but it was clear that the fire had a bit more time to swell than expected and the poor construction of the building was leading to its quick immolation. Having been a life-long Gothamite, the salt-and-pepper haired fire fighter had long grown used to mixing his disgust and sympathy for the poor fools that now clustered about as their lives became nothing more than ashen ruins. It was that grotesque but acceptable kind of loathing that came with the knowledge of realizing that most of these people, the poor, the weak, and the downtrodden, would have no one else to turn to and thus be turned over to people like him so that they could recover. It was another couple of weeks or a couple of months added on to an already overloaded work schedule that would keep his dreams of a well-earned retirement away from him just a little bit more.

Of course, it wasn't as if he was being paid to complain.

He sprang from the high seat of the truck only moments after placing the massive vehicle in park, the stomp of his heavy boots already drown out by the faster steps of his younger comrades as they sprang into action. Beatty knew he had built both a good team and a better system in the last 25 years, so much so that much of the orders he broadcast through a stern, unyielding yell was little more than a source of stability for the victims. It was designed as a sign that they no longer had to worry about what else could happen today and they could start worrying about what they're going to do tomorrow. It was a damning compromise to be certain but it was the best that he could do for the people who were already physically safe.

Beatty continued to hang back in order to take another, lingering examination of the burning building in order to examine what was the best way to get the people who were still inside outside. Like he guessed, the tenement was one of the shaggy remains of the 1930's expansions that groups like Gotham Progressives and The Wayne Foundation had been trying to get scrapped for the last decade, a wooden and stucco tinderbox originally designed to house Irish immigrants and African Americans that worked long hours but still weren't valuable enough to protect. It was buildings like these that were responsible for a good number of the fire-related deaths in metropolitan areas and a big reason why was that the insulation along the walls was not only quick to burn but also designed to spread out throughout the outer borders in order to save proprietors cash during the long winters. On the other hand, this also made the building quite quick to burn against the borders before moving to the interior, the situation leaving it very difficult for people to get in and that much more troublesome for others to get out.

He was already getting a good estimation of the ambulance count before a frantic woman burst through the still-unestablished outer perimeter and barreled into him. "PLEASE! PLEASE SAVE HER!" Beatty heard her scream, the veteran wincing at the sudden volume while fighting back a wave of revulsion as a pungent aroma attacked his nostrils. _Jack Daniels_, he quickly identified while struggling to keep the fair-haired woman at arm's length. _And recent too. She must have either been tucking into the bottle before the fire or the smoke alarms had woken her up. _

"All right, ma'am. You have to listen to me," he broke in with a well-practiced degree of stern patience. "Who do you want us to look for and where is your apartment?" He restrained the urge to let out a curse as the drunken woman ineffectually pounded his fists into his broad chest. Grabbing her wrists on the third attempt, his eyes caught the ragged remains of shriveled tracks along the woman's mottled, purplish veins. "Ma'am, I need you to calm down so we can find who you're looking for."

Beatty knew it to be a desperate attempt but it was still the best shot he had at finding this poor kid or grandma or whoever was possibly still trapped within the growing inferno. He kept his ears open while his eyes looked for signs that anyone may have known the troubled cause of the disturbance. Then, finally catching the attention of an elderly, dark-skinned gentleman, he continued to ease his way through the woman's anguished, nonsensical ramblings until her neighbor arrived to fetch her.

"Sir, she's telling me that somebody in her apartment is missing. Could you tell me where my men should be looking?"

The old man's wrinkled forehead stretched upward as he took the fact in, the rim of his ragged, Gotham Knights ball cap edging upward as his black eyes widened. "Oh, Lord. Oh no," he mumbled out before quickly getting back to point. "She lives in 306, sir. You're looking for Stephanie Brown."

* * *

_Wayne Manor – November 1__st__ – 11:54 A.M._

Etrigan produced as broad of a smirk as he could despite the pressure on his neck and lower chin, the greater demon obviously quite amused of the chaos he had brought into the proceedings.

"Wide-eyed doe, her life's crimson runs thick and impure, takes flight in deference to lioness demure," the greater demon let out with a hoarse grumble, his muscular arms still flat against his sides despite the dangerous situation. "How eager the half-blood with sweet yearnings of trust while devouring and nursing such rude, tempting lust."

Kara offered nothing to the accusatory beast as she extended her free hand towards Diana.

"I need your lasso, please."

This time Diana actually was surprised. Then, after that unfortunate flicker, the clever Amazon hastily managed to put everything in its proper place.

_What a decidedly Bruce-like maneuver_, she contemplated with a smirk while unbuckling the golden lariat strapped to her belt. "Be careful, sister. Creatures like these can sometimes weave their way around even these bindings."

Kara remained calm as she coolly accepted Wonder Woman's offering. Taking the gilded rope in hand, the half-Kryptonian swiftly tied it around Etrigan's wrist, knotting the cord tightly around the wrist of the orange-skinned, darker half of Jason Blood before finally releasing her grip. The magical instrument she had asked for and just employed had been one of the first hints of actual supernatural force she had encountered upon her arrival on Earth and the magic imbued in it by no less than Zeus itself would force anyone, even an eons-old trickster like Etrigan, to tell the truth.

"All right, then," Kara finally replied, the gleam in her crystalline-blue eyes a sure sign that she was pleased with her work. "Wally left you to take on Circe and the next thing we hear about the witch is that she's nowhere to be found and then you show up without so much as a scratch on you. Now, given how banged up the rest of us are, I think I speak for the rest of Neron's guests when I ask just how you managed to get off so easy?"

Diana regarded Etrigan's silence as her full lips set into a smirk. "Well, that seems like a valid question to me as well," she added, her long history with the aforementioned immortal witch providing more than enough motivation to go along with a plan she hadn't really been made aware of.

Now released from Kara's merciless grip, Etrigan seemed to have no trouble in maintaining his composure. "Thine pursuits for fidelity are all for naught, such lessons, these curtsies, one would think should be taught. Yonder question, its merit rings like Peter's cries yet I shall answer it calmly and spare all lies," the demon countered while mildly scratching the talons of his right hand against his ear. "A tempting bargain drawn by an alluring boon, wouldst honor my freedom from fate's repugnant moon."

Kara's bright irises shifted from one side of her eye to the other, her mind stretching its connections along with her ocular membranes. "She said that she could release you from Blood," she eventually came to realize, her golden head bowing at the implications behind the release of a greater demon. "But that makes no sense. Anyone with the kind of power to break the magic that binds you would have had it a long time ago. Why wouldn't they just come to you before now?"

Etrigan flashed his fangs as a gesture of respect to the impressively bright alien. "No dreamer may navigate his emperor's throne nor fallen angel recall sweet cherubim's tone." His scarlet eyes briefly flickered through several sickly shades of green before returning to their normal hue. "Thine villain's name, still shrouded despite divine clout, yet suffer no mistake, child, he still seeks you out."

The couplets, mysterious as they were, brought forward a wave of distant memories that rumbled through the thoughts of the former Supergirl. Suddenly occupied as she was, Kara briefly inched her way aside in a subconscious move to allow the owner of the golden lasso to take over.

"So let's just say that Circe's employer could free you from your human shackles. What kind of cost would you have to pay in order to make that happen?"

The eternal denizen of the nether realms regarded the question and the Amazon who spoke it with an absence of grace usually only found when an animal had stumbled upon some spoiled food. The contempt that response raised on both sides of the conversation was a quick possibility for trouble but Kara interrupted the tension with a stern look that shifted from one guilty to the other.

Taking a brief gaze at the noose around his wrist, Etrigan calmly smoothed his tattered, purple cape with his encumbered arm before standing up straight. "My bounty held in servitude, faith least divine, for this freshly shorn babe, their yearnings on the line. To eviscerate yon villains with precious haste 'twould mine duty and privilege and utterly waste."

_Great. No surprises or any form of help there_, Kara ruminated to herself while frowning in consternation. "But you didn't take the deal," she noted after briefly shaking her head to and fro. "You still remain under the same curse as before _and _you prevented Jason from reading my thoughts so that he couldn't sense what I was actually looking for." Another hungry grin was Kara's reward and it was all the young warrior woman could do but to hide her disgust.

"Your treachery, so succulent I shant resist yet such frivolous ventures thou keep and persist!" the demon replied with a chuckle, the fingertips of his left hand merely inches away from Kara's chin before she pushed them aside. "Is it too great to venture thine bright temptation, or restrain the thought of potential elation? Liberation is varied, vines finely hidden within blooming packages still here unbidden. Your journey 'tis perilous, a ripe slice of hell yet soon I shall join thee within my grander shell."

_And now I have a headache_, Kara ventured within herself once again. The distinct, clinking ruffle of battle armor from her right provided a clear sign that Wonder Woman was interested in more violent means of information collection but she presented the Amazon with the back of her right hand and that seemed to be enough to bring the debate to a close.

"Fair enough, Etrigan," the daughter of Zor-el allowed as a gesture of courtesy. "I thank you both for your time and sincerity, so much so that I might think to ask for you again when you are able to stir up thy own brain."

Etrigan let out a loud bark of laughter that twisted its way down to a chuckle as he undid the knot around his bulging wrist before handing The Lasso of Truth back to its ordained owner. "Your steps far and measured, Destroyer and Savior, your story shall expand, adhere, then endanger. Yet if thou requires my fidelity again, shout quickly and clearly to humble Etrigan."

Kara looked away as the greater demon willingly returned the reins of his body back to the immortal warlock that had served as his unwilling prison. And, as the sharp gaze of Jason Blood attempted to wind through her defenses, The Last Daughter of Krypton couldn't help but ponder over her own prison and what it would cost to escape.

* * *

This wasn't turning out to be the first great and grand superhero adventure that Stephanie had expected it to be.

Poking her head out from the decidedly unsafe confines of the bed above her, she squeezed her body beneath the iron bars of the frame and stood up to greet the fire swarming around her. A fretful glance towards the remains of the roof above her forced her to worry that there was still a lot of danger to be had from what she couldn't control. Of course, much of the burning planks and joists had already crashed down around her but she hardly knew enough to realize that there was little left to collapse down on top of her and that left her heart and mind full of worry.

But she couldn't worry. Superman wouldn't worry. Superman would save the day just like she was gonna do.

As brave of a face as she tried to put on, she couldn't quite turn back to see the smoldering remains of Ralph and Anna Thompson. She could never remember their first names of course, given who they were to her, but she did remember the way they would drop by and check on her to see if she had eaten dinner. They had always invited her over to watch _The Simpsons_ or play video games when she was feeling lonely, a common problem that would only be more prevalent now that they were both no longer around.

_Nonononono! _a little voice cautioned her. The Green Lantern would never be worried about being by himself at a time like this and neither would she! Instead she devoted herself to the laudable task of remaining under the smoke just like the commercials said she should as she kept her ears open for the sound she was trying to find.

The flames continued to crackle and spread about, _fooshcracklefooshfooshcrackle,_ as a cough escaped her lungs and fell into her balled-up fist before she finally heard it: a stifled but high-pitched wail that pushed through the flames from two rooms away. Steeling her courage, she took in a deep breath before plunging forward as quickly as her legs would carry her. Leaping over a low-lying flame, she dashed into the unfamiliar confines to find a blessedly familiar presence within it.

Were she more equipped to do so, Stephanie might have found it odd that this was the first time she had been in the baby's room but she hardly left any time to admire the bright wallpaper with pictures of Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch or the crib festooned with tiny replicas of the Enterprise (Mr. Thompson's favorite). Undoing the crib's locks with her stubby but agile fingers, she hastily slid down the partition and stretched to take the bawling baby into her arms just as Mrs. Thompson had taught her. Stephanie could still remember the sweet smile on the woman's face when she learned how to properly support the newborn's head and made certain to stick to the lesson as she rushed away from the ruins of the apartment.

Shushing the little one as best she could, the fair-haired Gothamite crab-walked under the smoke until she reached the stairwells. It was a gesture more to protect her cargo than herself but the amount of time it added to her travels simultaneously left her more of a victim to the toxic smoke around her. Sporadically letting out dry, hoarse coughs as she went, caution began to abandon her in replacement of survival as she dashed down the familiar steps. Strange as it may sound to one who may not have had the time or necessity to take comfort in such simple things, Stephanie had always gotten a kick out of the banging sounds she could make as she clambered up and down the winding flights. Her neighbors would occasionally complain, some of them even with ill-natured intents but she was far too intrigued by the responses of the world around her to care, a rude but natural instinct for a creature so devoid of such harmless interactions.

But such urgency often came with a price and now it was time for Stephanie to pay it. Already weakened by decades of poor maintenance and minutes of weakening by the rising flames, the stairwell connecting the eastern sides of the second and third floors gave way as she clambered down the middle of it. The snapping roar of the wood overrode the sound of Stephanie's panicked shriek but the infant tucked in her right arm continued to bawl unabated as his carrier tried desperately to pull herself back up with whatever strength she could muster. The surrounding smoke continued to settle in on the grim tableau, the suffocating fumes finally managing to wind its way into the baby's tiny lungs until its screams were rendered all but mute.

Perhaps it was fair to understand that Stephanie didn't want to be a superhero anymore. She was a five-year-old girl who might have been able to still save herself if she were willing to abandon the first tiny creature she had been asked to protect. The fear and the urgency was certainly enough to panic and paralyze the best that humanity had to offer but still the little girl hung tight in desperation, her pale blue eyes leaking tears.

"MOMMY!"

* * *

Bruce was startled by the clarity of the memory, the stark realism within it leaving the vigilante nearly stunned as the heat of the flames licked against his cape and cowl. His cheeks were scalded in the midst of it, an unfortunate byproduct of his titanium mesh battle armor that would be challenged and countered by the dozens of suits designed in the years to come until the matter was finally resolved to his satisfaction. That mild frustration continued to cling to him as he rappelled down through the fire for a handful of breathless seconds until he could safely perch his feet upon a metal banister that bordered the remains of the wooden floor. Leaping down the adjoining staircase, his boot-clad feet made an enormous _WHOMP _that rattled the planks below as he sprinted towards the struggling girl, his arms already extended to pluck her up from her predicament.

_She's so small,_ he couldn't help but think as the child clambered into the cradle of his right arm. The rips and tears on her t-shirt may have been from twisting through the rubble but he still paid close attention to how the tee pooled against her slight stomach and sagged against her arms as if she could disappear in it at any moment. Her arms were still encumbered with the choking infant so it was up to him to keep a steady grip on her as he rushed for his grappling line. Recalling that he had thanked the Lord in a moment of weakness upon discovering that the diamond point above was still securely fastened to one of the attic rafters, he wrapped the two children tightly within the crook of his right arm as they were slowly lifted upwards. The journey was pockmarked with foot after aching foot of travel while the muscles along his left forearm screamed at him in complaint for its unfair supply of labors. He felt the lick of an advancing flame crash into the hem of his cape and he pulled the girl closer, wincing as the fair-haired toddler let out a yelp of surprise as they were finally reintroduced to the starry night above.

Two more blessings were quick to arrive as Batman's feet found solid ground once again. The first he noticed as he cut his sights through the rising smoke to discover that the GCFD officers had prevented the fire from spreading to the neighboring building, an even more modest brownstone that stood twenty feet beneath and eight feet west of the edge of this ruined complex.

"Okay. I need you to hold to me," he sternly informed his cargo. "It's the only way we'll be able to get out of here safely."

Heaven help the both of them, Batman couldn't quite withhold his astonishment when the girl gave him a bright smile. "Okay!" she said with a panicked but slightly excited yip, the youth almost looking thrilled at the thought of a death-defying adventure even after the trauma she had endured before. "I'll hold onta Robbie."

Needing no clarification, Batman poured all the power and grace he could muster into his leg muscles and dashed for the roof. Touching the edge of the building's crest with the upper half of his right foot, he used his own body as a fulcrum in order to safely leap over the nearly three-meter gap between the buildings. The combined interference of the smoke and added weight would have made the feat impossible were it not that the building he was leaping to was shorter than the one he was leaping from but the price of that boon became clear as he landed harshly onto the stone roof below. The stern material of his boots were able to absorb a good portion of the damage but the trauma was still enough to bring him to his knees, his body twisting into a sideways tumble in a desperate attempt to protect the two children. Gasping after his efforts, the masked detective received his second blessing of the day as the baby's cries began to grow louder but smoother, the influx of comparatively clean air allowing the boy to be as comfortable as he could while swaddled in the girl's arms.

Batman turned briefly to observe the scene, his eyes softening within the shadows of his mask as he watched the girl gently holding another child that she would inevitably have to deliver into the unknown. Twisting away from the sight as quickly as he could, his able hands quickly reached for his spare grappling gun and fired the attaching diamond-tipped support into the outcropping of a building across the street. _They'll be safe here until I can get someone to come up and get them,_ he recognized, his experienced eyes already searching for the best angle to make his descent. _I've spent too much time. . . __**"**_UHH!"

Feeling a sharp tug against his neck, Batman hastily turned around to see that the little girl had chosen to get hold of a fistful of cape before he could swing away. The peaceful smile that once graced her lips had transformed into an impish smirk before evolving into a toothy grin.

_She had him_, he couldn't help but think. _She had him and there was no way he could escape._

Barely recalled memory mixed with instinct as Batman moved to sit down on the edge of the roof, his scuffed, black boots dangling over the precipice as he looked down upon some of the more bedraggled citizens of the town he protected and loved. There was a strange sort of silence to be found in the abject misery and worry below until it was broken up by the sight of a pair of shabby white Converses swinging back and forth next to him, the heels of the shoes lightly slapping against the brick underneath the stone. Inevitably glancing to his left, he watched on with silence as the girl presented him with the lightly fussy infant.

"Thanks for savin' us, Mister Batman! Do you wanna hold him?"

He wanted to say no but, of course, there were only certain moments and places where he could work up the will to say no to this one and this wasn't one of those times. He tried his damndest to hold back his smirk as the girl scooted over and placed little Robert Thompson into his arms, the ash-dappled child looking strangely complacent within the comfort of his oddly paired saviors.

"My name's Stephanie Brown," the girl said warmly before her fairly sharp mind was clouded with a thought. "Say. . . do you know if my mommy is all right?"

Stephanie Brown's mother would be all right but it would take a long time. The near loss of her daughter would ultimately inspire her to move in with her elder sister and attend drug rehab. She would return to college, earn her nursing degree, and ultimately become a responsible mother for her wayward daughter but not without a plethora of life's potholes and occasional surrenders to her unfortunate vices.

"She's just fine," Batman remembered saying although there was no way for him to know for sure. "Do you remember where she was before the fire started? Why didn't she try and help you and your brother?"

Stephanie's oversized eyes briefly widened to comical-like proportions. "Oh! He's not my brother, Mister Batman! I was spendin' the night over at his mommy and daddy's house when I heard all the loud noises but I couldn't wake 'em up so I went and got the baby and I was goin' down the steps but then they fell down. . ."

Batman placed his steady hand onto Stephanie's shoulder in order to bring her to a stop, the technique long established as the most efficient way he could bring the little wordsmith out of one of her lengthy babbles. The sheepish smile arrived right on schedule followed shortly by her sweeping some stray hairs away from her eyes but the detective managed to restrain his urge to smirk. "What you did was very brave," he finally whispered _"and foolish and willful and very, very you" _he then silently added for his own benefit. Of course, the little girl wasn't about to try and pick up the subtlety and chose instead to bathe in the kindly words as she lightly bounced in place.

"Well, I wanna be a hero when I grow up!" she replied without restraint, giddy at the thought that she could share the news with one of the people she wanted to be like. "Just like the ones I see in the paper and the comic books. I wanna fly around an' save the world an' have a'ventures. . ."

Batman allowed the prattling to continue on this time. For years he had remembered his surprise that this mouthy little twit was so eager to share her hopes and dreams with him until the odd moment was ultimately swept away by countless battles and more noticeable successes and failures. The bizarrely pleasant memory was finally taken apart by the winds of change and chance but here it lingered again and the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City couldn't help but feel the guilt that it had faded away from him to begin with.

". . . Mommy says that Daddy'll come home one day and we'll be a fam'ly," he managed to snatch out from beyond his own thoughts, the subdued tone amidst the wave of cheeriness only making the note stand out from the rest. "But. . . I don't think he's gonna come back."

That moment, more than perhaps any other, was the time when Batman wished he was as caring as so many people had insisted that he was deep, down inside. That was the man who would have pushed back all his egotistical posing and wrap the suddenly sobbing girl in his spare arm and never let her go. Instead, the real Bruce Wayne gave in to his fear and said nothing, a man willing to take on gods cowed by the thought of something other than a war.

"Mister Batman," Stephanie warbled out through her tears, the girl looking ashamed to appear so weak and dependent and so much like a child. "Do you think I could be a hero like you?"

The simple act of asking Richard Grayson a particular question or two would provide proof enough that Bruce Wayne was hardly a perfect guide to the big, nasty world.

On the other hand, the old man did have his moments.

"Stephanie, if you stay who you are then you'll become a greater hero than I ever could be."

Batman could almost see the hope and happiness explode from little Stephanie's chest. "Really?" she squeaked, her pale, blue eyes brought roaring back to life while her body was bounced excitedly once again at the mere thought of the possibilities. It was the same, desperate enthusiasm that he saw in Dick when his ward succeeded in his first kata or managed to complete his studies with the aid of some timely encouragement when even Alfred couldn't get through to him so perhaps that was cause enough to surrender to a moment of weakness and place a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead.

"Okay. So I'm waking up naked in Bruce Wayne's bedroom with no idea how I got here. This is either the start of a really good joke or the end of a really bad fanfic."

There was a ruffle of motion that briefly overrode both the beeping of the heart monitors and the startled gasp of Leslie Thompkins as Lloyd rushed from his seat to clutch Stephanie to his chest. To her credit, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns did the best she could to return the embrace, her entire body roiling in pain all the while.

"Um, kind of still a crispy critter here, big brother," Stephanie said hoarsely while patting Lloyd on his back, the wounded bird surprised that she was able to stay clever in the midst of the changing roles. "This isn't exactly going to help me through a speedy recovery."

The shaky presumption was enough to convince Lloyd to pull away, his hazel eyes shining with tears. "Bleedin' little bint! You soddin' deserve it!" he shouted back in between smothering Stephanie's cheeks with kisses. "Don't you ever make me do that again, Tweety! I'm fuckin' warnin' you right now," ordered the usually overachieving second-in-command, the British half-demon simply too caught up in the moment to pretend as he wrapped his little sister into another tight hug that held strong until Stephanie patted lightly at Lloyd's chest.

"Oh, what did I have to worry about," Steph replied with her own morbid glibness. "It's not like this is the first time you've had to save me after I went and did something stupid." The honesty drew a laugh from Lloyd and that, in turn, drew a legitimate smile from her own lips as her big brother returned to his seat, his left hand clasping Stephanie's right in a gentle but unbreakable grip. Thus unencumbered, the former Spoiler and current Robin took a moment to reposition herself in response to Lloyd's weight being off of the bed but then discovered that she had room to her left as well. Turning to meet the gap, she was able to fully appreciate the sight of Bruce sitting back in his own straight back chair, the mulish man already adopting the "relieved broodiness" look that somehow managed to suit him.

"My secret's revealed," she noted while stretching her arms as wide as she comfortably could before presenting the right palm of her hand. "And no stuttering apologies from you, Mister Wayne. You didn't have any reason to remember it as well as I did."

The half-smirk meandered its way onto Bruce's steely countenance in spite of himself. And, try as he might, he also couldn't quite understand how his right hand was suddenly laying on his ruined comforter and sheets.

"I'm sorry your father never came back."

Stephanie did it despite knowing how much it would hurt. She leaned forward so that she could stretch out her arm and take Bruce's hand in hers.

"He did."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential _

There, Leigh and Rachel! Are you happy? Happy happy happyhappyhappy? And you better have not just skipped to the end to see what was going to happen or, so help me, I'll send Shiftsy to your house to freeze you both so he can have human cocktails for a year! I told you and a whole bunch of other people to just relax and trust me when I said that I had everything under control.

And with that moment passed, allow me to take some time out to teach my dozens and dozens of fans and/or you aspiring fiction writers who are apparently checking in on this about a little concept called dramatic catharsis. Sometimes referred to as a "slow build", it involves introducing unresolved elements to a character's (or characters') story that are purposefully designed to manipulate the emotions of those who read it and compel them to see the situation through its entirety despite the time it may take to get there. When mixed with a metamessage or a raison d'être of the story itself (such as, oh, to pick a purpose at random, how one seeks to define their own legacy through a lifetime of actions) you instill within your readers a purpose for them to read your own message while drawing their own message for themselves at your discretion.

A slow build, however, usually requires a series of events that are designed to unfold over a long period of time. If one introduces a number of potential "story-changing events" then it runs the risk of striking a hollow, forgettable chord with their audience. While enticing them in the short term, the audience will ultimately feel compelled to abandon the event and the stimuli that came with it because it was so simple to get.

Or, to make a long explanation short. . . I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!

Well, most of the time anyway.

Oh, and to add further hypocrisy to the fire, the songs that were playing in my head throughout the four years (and four hours) it took to cobble together Bruce and Stephanie's memory were _Orphanage on Fire _and, appropriately enough, _The Girl Who Stole the Stars_. Both songs can be found on Disc 3 of the _Chrono Cross _soundtrack and I strongly recommend giving both the music and the game a try.

* * *

_Issue #119 Preview_

Well, it would be hard to follow up such an emotional installment with something even more dramatic but rest assured that this is exactly what's going to happen! In two weeks you'll join Bruce Wayne as he takes on one of the most brutally emotional events in his laborious life.

Going out to lunch.

**DUN-DUN-!**

Come back to check out the final installment of _Hell is Other People _and the next installment of The Misfits: Just another Afternoon Apocalypse. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	119. Just another Afternoon Apocalypse

Issue #119

Just another Afternoon Apocalypse

_Gotham City – Ibano's – 12:22 P.M._

The gentleman that calmly sat at the smallish table remained cool and unruffled even as the tardy billionaire took his seat. The clear, afternoon sky offered a picturesque tableau for them both as they adjusted themselves to the familiar locale of the upscale eatery, their perch just five feet to the right and 500 more below. The silent presence continued to say nothing as the figurehead of Wayne Enterprises moved to fetch the carafe of mineral water at the center of the table and poured a healthy amount into a nearby glass. The remnants of a northeastern gale briefly rifled through his slightly hardened features and ferreting through his left ear canal yet he continued to observe the man of privilege in a bored fashion, his joined palms united at the tips of his fingers so that they could properly support his slight chin propped upon it in a gesture of contemplation.

"One would think that a detective would pay greater attention to common courtesies," the gentleman finally offered as Bruce straightened himself in his seat. "I was kind enough to give you three weeks to recuperate from your rigors and yet you still possess the gall to show up nearly a half-hour late."

Bruce briefly tilted his head to the left, obviously amused at the possibility that the gentleman hadn't expected such a turn of events. "You have my apologies," he said rather flatly while raising a hand to summon a nearby waitress, the words and gesture providing an odd dichotomy between the billionaire fop and the genius within the stupidity. "I'm afraid that I was too busy asking Miss Brown about how she wanted to make her proper regards."

The gentleman fired back with a deserving smirk. "Perfectly understandable," he allowed while moving to take the unoccupied decanter into his right hand. "And, for what it's worth, I would like to offer my condolences for your losses. Given Mrs. Queen's accomplished exploits, it must truly be an inconvenience. . ."

"Just be quiet, I beg of you," Wayne interrupted dully, his blue eyes taking on a stormy hue as they broadcast his irritation. "Goodness knows the only regret you have is that the blood wasn't spilled by your own hands."

The gentleman seemed strangely hurt. "Now there's really no need for those kinds of accusations, Mister Wayne. I recognize that we have our deserved and shared history of bad blood but these discrepancies shouldn't be enough to dissuade you from accepting genuine laments."

The full force of a Batglare was leveled upon him. _Ah, it has been a while hasn't it? _he couldn't help but ask as he took a long, satisfying sip from his glass. "Your patrol partner gave of herself, time and time again, to not only better ensure the safety of humanity but also to honor her commitments to her fallen comrades. The two of us, of all people, should have the experience to properly regard the true rewards of such behavior."

Bruce managed to rein in his anger and opted for a dubious stare. "Please tell me you haven't deluded yourself into believing that we share the same intentions."

The gentleman gave a slight shrug of shoulders. "Is there any reason that I shouldn't?" he simply inquired. "We are both children of privilege who spent our adolescent years seeking avenues with which we would prove our worth beyond our inheritance, we have both employed the ill-gotten resources bequeathed to us in order to patch the ever-present wounds of society, and we have both come to recognize that such necessary cannot be accomplished without stretching our thoughts past the moral and ethical boundaries that bind the rest of humanity from either extinction or full fruition." Needing to regain his breath, if not his momentum, Bruce's colleague briefly enjoyed the odd sensation of his glass sliding across the birch wood table as the trails of condensation left behind began to slowly harden and crystallize within the near-freezing temperature of the Gotham afternoon. "Some damning similarities to be shared, don't you agree?"

"You forgot that the both of us occasionally take advantage of the law when it suits our own means," Bruce threw in while steepling his fingers. "Such as when you used records illegally classified by the U.S. government to reveal what truly happened to Arthur Light."

"Freedom of speech on full display, I'm proud to say," the gentleman offered back while carelessly presenting his palms. "Ah, and I never did properly thank you for ridding the world of such an odious, little pest. On the other hand, you did have the pleasure of committing a mercy that hundreds upon hundreds of ladies and gentlemen would have been privileged to perform in your place."

"Well, you'll be sure to give some of those gentle souls my regards," Bruce drawled out with the slightest of scowls even as their waitress finally approached their table. "Still, that doesn't answer the obvious question of why you chose to sit on the material for so long."

A simple, charming nod towards the long-legged, snappily-attired server set aside any instinctual need the gentleman had to respond to the thinly-veiled demand. Subsequently, the Italian he employed to properly order his meal was delivered with such a well-managed candor that it was if he had been properly tutored within the finest institutions of Florence itself. Furthermore, his well-practiced poise allowed him to maintain his civil means as Wayne played his part and stumbled through the wine list with a purposefully broken interpretation of the Sicilian idiom. He received an unexpected bonus upon finding the opportunity to "correct" the Gothamite before translating Bruce's order to the kindly baffled young woman who did her own part in digging the dagger in deeper by flashing him a sympathetic smile before retreating back into the kitchen.

"I'll admit that while your acting ability may leave some room for work, your team's dual ability to serve as soldiers and officers of the law was something that I could easily admire," the gentleman declared. "Your systematic dissection of Alexander Luthor's Secret Society, though a bit rushed and cobbled together, was still a quite impressive sight to behold. You flawlessly took advantage of your Kryptonian's understandable weaknesses in order to set back Brainiac's plans for years, perhaps decades, and it was the actions of your charges that eliminated the fatal allure of The Anti-Life Equation. Because of that, the galaxy's grandest army will be more judicious in whatever plans its leader may have for our home and that caution will only fortify what the both of us hope to achieve."

Despite the damning proof, Bruce still managed to have little trouble keeping his poker face. After all, it was through Noah Kuttler's timely technological tracking that allowed Gotham's favorite son to learn that the gentleman knew of these incidents having been established long ago. "Who would have thought that you'd be a fan of our work," he said with an even candor while leaning back in his chair.

The gentleman easily copied the motion. "There's no need to be so modest, Mister Wayne. Nor is there a need to avoid taking credit for your work against both The Sinestro Corps on Oa and Neron's forces in Hashmalamum. These accomplishments and the sacrifices that came with them, at least in my mind, have proved your worth a thousand times over as it comes to what I wish to offer."

Bruce restrained himself in the face of the implications save for a slight widening of the eyes. "Now I know you must be joking," he measured with a necessary scoff.

The gentleman presented his open palms once again, this time as a means of demonstrating his integrity.

"There's no trickery to be had here, Dark Knight. Merely an opportunity for the both of us to make a highly prudent alliance."

* * *

_Wayne Manor – Kitchen – 12:54 P.M._

Alfred Pennyworth strolled back into the room with his senses lightly buzzing, the aged butler having grown quite familiar with the bright commotion that was taking place in the dining area. The polished heels of his dress shoes clacking against the floor, his careful steps did little to interrupt the supernatural show as the longtime friend of the manor continued to work both their literal and metaphorical magic. Gazing briefly at the thinly-veiled joy expressed by the youngsters seated in the front row of the makeshift stands, the revered hush harkened his thoughts back to tiny soap bubbles and jubilant children celebrating for a child who neither knew nor wanted to discover just what there was to be so joyful about.

Looking back on it, the old man had a tricky time of recalling just what could have been so merry either. Still, should he fail to find it in the present time, he smiled as he remembered that such serenity did not have to be forced upon by spells or sorcery.

"Alakazam!" Zatanna shouted gaily, her exclamation just another distraction for her craft as a small array of bird-shaped streamers exploded from the brim of her top hat. The slight shower of paper drew not just a mild supply of applause from the various adults but also some delighted squeals and chuckles from Jai, Iris and Lian as they looked on with definite interest, the eldest of the trio smiling broadly as she helped the youngest bring his pudgy hands together in an attempt to applaud properly. As she dramatically soaked in the appreciation, the sorcerer finally met Alfred's eyes and fired back with a playful smile. "Why hello, Alfred! Hope you don't mind another magician taking your stage for a little while."

Alfred courteously ducked his head. "Not at all, Miss Zatana. However, if you're truly seeking to repay any debts then might you entertain the possibility of not being so quick to leave the manor? Though I run the risk of ruining my curmudgeonly reputation, it would be quite rude of me to attempt to abandon your dilemma before it is fully resolved."

The resident mystic of The Justice League cocked her head to one side, a genuine smile on her scarlet lips as she doffed her hat back onto her raven-black mane. "Sorry, Alfred, but this little gypsy needs to get back on the road. Besides, it's not like I don't owe you guys enough already for putting so much effort into helping rebuild Zatara Manor."

"Awww, no need for thanks, milady," replied Wally West despite the bemused stare of his wife. Along with Kara and Lloyd, the young father had put a great deal of his spare time and energy into helping restore the mystic hub of Gotham back to a decent semblance of its formerly impressive stature. "There's something quite freeing in goin' all 'Tim Taylor' with this speed o' mine. Almost makes me think that there might actually be some money to be made in it."

"Let's not go too far here, _husband_," Linda interceded, the chief breadwinner of the West household quick to playfully swat her husband across the back of his head. "After all, there was a reason why the three of you had to start over on the foundation a couple of times."

"Well, it would fit into the 'Toolman' heritage," threw in Roy Harper, the sharpshooter already nursing his first can of lager for the day. "Besides, I always pictured your husband as a sort of 'Bob the Builder on crack' type of performer."

"Well, you would know," Wally mumbled back, the whispered retort earning him a dirty look from his fellow former Titan as well as a sharper cuff to the neck from the love of his life. "All right! Fine! The grasshopper has learned his valuable lesson! Patience over speed! I got it! Sheesh!"

Alfred wistfully shook his head as the melodramatic bickering inevitably began to die down. Perhaps he had simply gotten used to the kind of hullabaloo that would have previously been an enormous taxing upon his patience but the former Interpol agent had come to regret the exodus of visitors from the stately abode. Nigel had left the moment safety was assured and Nigma had hastily shuffled off to take a handful of private cases the instant that Lloyd had declared him safe to leave. Slade was predictably quick to depart as well, the determined father and soldier reluctantly leaving his daughter in their care in the interest of fighting their collective battles in his own form and fashion. Speaking of which, Rose herself had retreated back to Titans Tower after a week-and-a-half of looking after Mister Bloomberg intermixed with patrols of Gotham when the task of dealing with the enthusiastic half-demon became too much for the short-tempered Titan to handle. As for the aforementioned Kid Devil, the newest representative of Dabura to the mortal realm was quite happy to follow Ravager out the moment he could and that left Master Wayne's childhood friend as the last straggler remaining out of the wayward souls that had chosen to gather here in their times of trouble, their actions and activities breathing another dose of life into the aged halls.

Of course, there was only so much room that the wizened Brit had to complain when it came to a lack of activity. As if to provide proper proof of that, a familiar figure calmly shuffled his way through Zatanna's latest sparkly illusion on his way to the steaming pot of coffee.

"Hey! How about a little courtesy for the act here!" Zatanna squawked, the volume of her displeasure contrasting with her cheery smile. "Some of us are still trying to be just a little bit social."

Continuing on his quest for caffeine and momentary rejuvenation, the recently recovered Noah Kuttler offered no form of apology as he poured the Java blend into the "#1 Nerd" cup that Stephanie had bought him for Christmas. Taking a brief sip as a reward for emerging from his self-created confinement, the hacker calmly removed his spectacles before the looming steam could fog up the lenses. "Oh, were there fun and games to be had?" The Calculator asked with an iota of mocking anticipation. "Pardon me for my distraction but I'm still a bit weary from taking care of the work that the lot of you worked so hard to avoid doing."

Zatanna screwed up her cheeks and lips at this, the middle-aged witch providing a fairly well rounded example of how the room was feeling about the peevish computer wonk. "Come on, friend of my friend! There's no need to be a gloomy guss," she then brightly replied with her familiar, showwoman's air. "I checked out all the supernatural elements backwards and forwards and I couldn't find a thing wrong with Lloyd's work. As of right now, Wayne Manor is as safe and secure as a place like this can get."

Somewhat appeased by the news, the former Society member briefly surrendered to the pull and took a seat at the nearby island. "Well, I would certainly have to leave it to you to determine such a matter," he confessed while pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his loose business shirt, the oversized article of clothing so selected as to offer more room for the still-healing scars on his back. "And, at the risk of sounding too forward, a great deal of my worries about such affairs would be relieved if you could reconsider Mister Thomas's requesAAAAAAAAH!"

The startled shriek spat from Noah's lips just as he was physically accosted by what appeared to be a digital cavalcade of ones and zeroes that poured from Zatanna's right palm. The shock of it startled him until his butt slipped off his seat but he was saved from an ungainly fall as the same spell caster concocted a force barrier that gently nudged the spectacle-polishing hacker back into his place.

"Sorry. Just couldn't resist," Zatanna noted with an impish smile as Noah fumed and placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Speaking of which, I've come to know myself well enough to realize that there's always going to be a part of me that wants to be in the spotlight," the weight of the confession hampered the bright grin of Bruce Wayne's oldest friend until it became a sad smirk. "I mean, I'll always be grateful and I'm not about to deny that you guys do a lot of good work but. . . it's just not the work for me."

"Well, that's quite all right, Miss Zatanna," Alfred quickly threw in, the caretaker quick to intercede upon witnessing the witch's sudden downcast countenance. "Just remember you will always be welcome to hone your craft here should the need and desire require."

"Absolutely," Wally concurred, the speedster speaking for both Linda and Roy. "Besides, with Roy around then there will never be the possibility to be the weak link around her. . . HEY! Why you little. . ." The Fastest Man Alive lunged at his attacker but his diminutive aggressor somehow managed to avoid him in the nick of time. Continuing to caper about, The Flash took good notice of the laugh brightening Lian's copper cheeks as she gamely raced around to the other side of the kitchen table. "Graaagh! She too fast for me!" he exclaimed in a Neanderthalic manner while continuing to chase Lian around the kitchen and the smiling people within it. "Somebody get a hold of her. . . OH! Hey! There we go!"

The Flash's enthused shouting accompanied Lian's surprised yelp as Jai managed to get a decent grip of her right arm as she passed the toddler by. She could have easily broken free of the grip if she were willing to risk the little one's safety in the process but her physical training allowed Roy's daughter to avoid harming her captor. Consequently, she was also slowed up enough for her pursuer to get a hold of her and soon she was jostled about by a number of gentle pokes, prods and pushes against her head, neck, and shoulders.

"," Wally reported in a posh, British accent as he continued to jostle about the daughter of Roy Harper "Botherbotherbother_GRAAAACK!"_

The kitchen activities ground to a nearly destructive crescendo as the aforementioned Arsenal hopped onto The Flash's back in order to better deliver a series of noogies and accompanying bothers even while Lian narrowly avoided a collision with the marble table before giggling and scurrying out from under the pile to tickle the toddler still gripping her arm. Shouts and groans of annoyance were quick to follow and the only one to remain silent was the one that happened to garner Zatanna's attention. Offering herself some time to chuckle at the goings on, the sorceress then broke into a brief jog to catch up with the silent escapist just before he could fully stalk away from the scene.

"Wow, I am _really _going to miss this place," confessed the witch, her bright smile quite a contrast from Noah's smirk though it still held the same fondness for the revelers they had both just abandoned. "You will watch over 'John' and the others for me, won't you?"

Noah responded with a typically derisive snort. "You make it sound as if I have a choice in the matter," he grumbled while continuing to soldier on towards The Batcave and the trio of Crays that awaited him within. "No worries, Miss Zatara. I will continue the labors that I am so grossly underpaid to perform."

The crankiness was familiar but still somehow fresh to Zatanna. So much so that, as they arrived at the grandfather clock, the childhood friend of Bruce Wayne gave in to her devilish temptations and leaned forward. Her lips only briefly grazed Noah's but the twitch of surprise that she received as a response almost forced out a giggle that she had to stifle even as she pulled away. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon, an odd sensation to be sure but still one that she suddenly decided that she could get used to.

"Never underestimate the perks that come with honest labor, Mister Kuttler."

Noah was still stammering and reaching for his glasses well after Zatanna had faded away in a puff of showy, pink-and-purple smoke.

* * *

"Please tell me you're joking."

The gentleman absorbed Bruce's blunt rejoinder with a serenity the strength of stone. "Mister Wayne, I can understand how your past exploits with The Justice League may have clouded your judgment over what a proper alliance truly is but I assure you that the standard definition remains the same. It is a partnership between people or groups of like minds and shared intentions that resolve to overcome the allure strength of their individual inspirations with the hope of a more likely success. I seek to remove humanity from its endless struggles between those who claim godhood and immunity simply because they don a colorful leotard and claim they fight to right wrongs. I have chosen to sacrifice myself to what so many of us believe to be improbable simply because the goal asks so much of us, a world where we are established as equals not merely by what we can provide but what we are willing to achieve for the quality of the whole. I wish to nurture the greatest experiment in the history of our planet by instructing others to accept the sacrifices of equality so that we may all accept a better world rather than be prompted to hide and hope and pray for a solution. How is that goal, in any way, different from what you have attempted to do in the years you have spent allying yourself with gods?"

"The same gods that you claim you want to eliminate, mind you."

The gentleman cocked his head to one side, his bony, right ring finger waving from side to side. "I think you to be too quick to cast judgment about your genuine peers, Mister Wayne. Harper, Thomas, and Zor-el have long abandoned the costumes chosen by those who wanted to twist them to their own means and ends. Conversely, Mister West's decision is both a necessity and a heartfelt homage devoted to the man who raised him while Grayson and Brown take on their guises as a way to break free of your shadow while remaining to serve as your sun."

Both pleased and unsurprised that he had rendered his company silent, the gentleman took a moment to lean forward in order to take hold of the pitcher and refill his nearby glass. He took a sip even as he continued to place everything back in its proper order, his slight neck muscles rippling as the cool liquid poured down his throat.

"Pardon me if you disagree for the sake of humility but actions like those don't exactly sing with the same disgrace of Metropolis's resident alien, do they?"

Bruce leaned forward to accept the pitcher, his eyes locked on the gentleman as he refilled his own glass. "So let's see how the hand plays out then. Say that my team and I recognize the quality of your intentions and join up with you to make certain that they come about. Exactly what would our place be in this brave, new world of ours?"

The gentleman offered a demure smile. "Well, of course, you're welcome to offer up your own ideas but I've been growing more partial to an idea that I believe would spark your most focused interests. Since the installment of your philosophy of taking on the elements of crime before they rise to the surface, the influence of criminal activity in Gotham has been scaled down to a degree not seen in all of the city's recorded history and that tempts me to see what you could do on a global stage. Just as you inspire fear in those who corrupt and motivate those with a thirst to succeed and a yearning to aid their fellow man, I want you to govern such amiable philosophies as leader of the global law enforcement that will be established by my movement. Your metahuman comrades will be allowed to remain away from the spotlight, just as many of them seem comfortable doing already, while keeping a close eye on these false deities who insist on employing their power in their egotistical pursuits for glory and reward."

An emotional storm seemed to be hovering above Bruce's head as he tossed about the idea in his head, his powerful mind not only judging the legitimacy of such a possibility but also sparing the energy to discover what else lay behind the veil.

The gentleman continued on, absolutely fearless in his own way. "You claim to have chosen to declare a war upon crime so that no one else would ever suffer the horror that you were forced to endure. Now I'm giving you the opportunity to make that dream a tangible reality."

"There's more to the solution than stopping crime," Wayne coldly replied through narrowed eyes. "What you're suggesting would require an almost total alteration of humanity's very procession. You would eliminate the order that made you into the inspired mind you are today in order to build something new in its place as if you were one of the gods you claim to despise."

"Oh, I assure you that I am no god, Mister Wayne," the gentleman interrupted with a dark certainty. "I am a mere man with a yearning to make the world he loves a better place. And, just like you, I have spent decades working to acquire the resources that would allow those ambitions to become reality. Victory is within my grasp but I'm not foolish enough to believe that such a war, as it will surely come to, would not result in some tragic casualties that I would be foolish to commit to without taking efforts to avoid them. If you were to align with me then this world becomes safer a great deal quicker and with better certainty than I could ever hope to achieve alone."

Now it was Bruce's turn to take a drink, the attention of the physical motion completely stuffed in the background by thoughts and memories. "I've never heard of a war that ever truly needed to be fought," he frankly replied. "And, like you've alluded to already, I could not accept this deal in good conscience if I was not allowed to bring along those who helped me reach the success I currently reap. My question is why you're so willing to accept such a contradictory condition."

The gentleman sat back in his chair once again, stretching his arms wide as he did so. "As I said, if they wish to remain within the shadows than they are more than willing to do so. On the other hand, Lloyd Thomas, a man with full control over the force of a greater demon, could serve as a fine symbol of our conquest over the fears and superstitions of the past. Miss Brown and Mister West, two heroes that have come to acquire universal respect, could serve as symbolical envoys of what our people will have to offer to the cosmos should they be willing to meet us under a true banner of peace and understanding. Even Mister Harper, for all his mistakes and uncouth transgressions, could demonstrate to all those who seek redemption that we do not have to be always defined by our mistakes so long as we work and struggle to live a life that can be looked upon with pride."

"And the alien?" Bruce inquired with a smirk, the detective relishing the infinitesimal twitch that trickled through the gentleman's jaw line. "I suppose that she would serve as the foreign creature willing to assimilate to the laws of the land that you will establish? A new Horatio Alger story manufactured for the entire universe to behold?"

The hypothesis offered the gentleman enough time to regain his composure. "If it must come to that then, yes," he allowed while continuing to shore his defenses. "I'll admit to being concerned when it came to her refusal to acknowledge her past but her work against Henshaw and Neron would indicate that she's willing to assist in the betterment of her adopted home rather than merely reveling in her physical superiority."

"Well, that kind of patience can be a valuable thing," Bruce noted with mocking matter-of-factness. "And you just expect everyone to knuckle under the authority you have to offer? The Amazons of Themyscira, the demon communities along Devon and the European coastlines and all the people I've worked with and all the people you've put in your employ and they're all just expected to be the grinding cogs in the clockwork. . ."

"Oh, don't get semantic with me, Wayne!" the gentleman impatiently exclaimed. "We are all little more than a simple part in the machinery of human history and you know it. All I'm planning to do is provide the necessary maintenance that is so richly deserved." The rebel leaned forward in spite of his desire to remain unruffled. "You've seen my plans, Bruce. In five years we could rid the world of starvation, eliminate environmentally unsafe work environments and reformulate the very architecture of nurturing so that each child will receive a proper and balanced education. You've had the time to analyze the schematics as I recognized you would and I _know _you understand that this can be done!"

The halfway-empty pitcher jostled slightly as the gentleman slammed his right palm down on the table. Wanting to pay heed to Alfred's consistently delivered advice that one should look after a small mess before it could become a big disaster, Bruce cut off the container's rattling with the back of his left hand.

"I did look over your plans," he allowed while moving to refill the gentleman's glass. "Forgive me for asking but exactly how many people would have to die in order for your plan to succeed?"

"3.8 billion," the gentleman calmly replied while accepting his glass. "However, should you be willing to join forces now, I'm willing to scale it down to 3.5. It's a harsh approximation, I grant you, but rest assured that Cecilia Queen wouldn't have been amongst the casualties if we had both acted faster."

* * *

_Three weeks ago – Hashmalamum_

"So pleased that the three of you were able to make it," Dabura announced with a genuine smile while moving to accept Kara's hands within his own, the greatest of greater demons looking quite pleased to see the half-Kryptonian in spite of the tardiness of both her and her colleagues.

"And to you as well, Distinguished Demon King," Kara replied with a slight curtsy upon releasing herself from the burning grip of the hellspawn. "I hope we haven't kept all of you waiting for long."

"No, no. Not at all." the overseer of the nether dimensions confessed while rising back to his full height. "In fact, we still seem to be awaiting the last of our guests and it would be quite the privilege to witness the anger of our host as I inform him so once again. Would you care to join me?"

Kara raised her golden eyebrows at the implications, the young half-breed still getting used to the demon's unique techniques of finding humor. "That's quite all right. However, I would first like to ask if there have been any significant changes down here. I'm afraid we've spent so much time restoring our own home. . ."

"That you simply abandoned the problems of others?" Dabura ventured, the regal demon looking oddly supercilious as he willingly barked up the wrong tree. "Ah, there is no need for apologies, Miss Zor-el. The Gaia Battlers have returned to their state of deep sleep and both their manipulator and his master are receiving their due punishment for awakening them."

A thick load of apprehension passed through Kara's throat before she stuffed it down with a swallow. "Well, I suppose you'd be the authority on the whole 'punishment' thing," she noted cautiously. "But what about the others?"

A murky shadow momentarily eclipsed Dabura's otherwise whimsical countenance. "Well, I am pleased to report that the souls of Arthur Light, Hunter Zolomon, and Sebastian Blood have been sent away safely into extermination. Unfortunately, I must profess that Neron's three remaining lieutenants have managed to successfully slip away, if only for the time being."

Kara clicked her tongue against her teeth while mulling over the possibilities. "Circe, Sabbac, and Zalbarda," she listed with a smack of her lips. "The last one is enough of a threat on his own and the first two may have already found someone new to latch on to."

"There is no perchance in that, Miss Zor-el," Dabura broke in, his morbid cheer returning in the wake of the deep, reserved breath Kara provided in response. "Nevertheless, at least I shall have some small measure of entertainment when your lot clashes with them once again."

Having long endured many of Earth's creatures and their thirst for satire, Kara managed to stave away her exasperation with a sour grin. "So we're back to an eternity of drawing entertainment from the little ants above the surface, are we?"

There was a distinct glimmer in the tawny eyes of The Demon King as his black pupils steered Kara towards his current source of amusement.

"Oh, dear little one, it's the only true entertainment there is. More so if one can throw in a magnifying glass."

* * *

Distracted as she was, perhaps it was fair that Terra Markov was completely unaware of her increased audience as she continued to pay close attention to the stone beneath her orange boots. Her clear goggles slumped haphazardly against her nose, the undead geomancer looked as if she had fallen asleep despite the presence of the two familiar gentlemen across from her. She briefly shifted her overlarge middle teeth so they could worry against her lower lip, a nervous tic that had served as both an act at being weak or a sincere revelation that she wasn't strong.

Then, of course, she remembered that she was the sole survivor of Grodd's army in the wake of the cataclysmic barrage of The Gaia Battlers and the pride that came with that quickly restored her boastful ways.

"So no 'thank you' for saving the bacons of your little buddies, Short Pants? Not even a 'Way to go, Terra' for helping Little Miss Wonderbra through the Anti-Life Equation a couple of weeks ago?" It was a truly ballsy way to go about her greeting and it suited her nature, so much so that the expected audience for it was tempted into offering a slight but debonair smile that had made the hearts of numerous Teen Titan ladies flutter, herself included.

"How about thanks for looking after my family, Rabbit Teeth," Dick Grayson replied, the domino-masked vigilante sporting a genuine measure of admiration. "If I didn't already have a reason to bury the past with you then you've provided it about a half-dozen times now." Nightwing would have likely said more but he found the breath taken out of his lungs as his former teammate all but glomped him, the awkwardly affectionate gesture drawing a chuckle from Lloyd that turned into outright laughter as Dick and the fair-haired earthmover backpedaled away from one another.

"Um, sorry about that," said Terra as she unconsciously ran her deathly pale fingers against her scalp. "Guess it was just one of those things where, ya know, you don't expect somethin' to mean so much until it happens. . . Y'know. . ."

"Yeah. . . yeah. . ." Nightwing mumbled back as he irrationally feared the possibility of a certain British-born doctor watching his actions from afar. "Well, y'know. . . it's something that I could have said. . ."

"So how's the new employment suitin' ya, Markov?" Lloyd broke in after he felt he had drawn enough entertainment from the awkwardness. "From castigated dreck to the private guard in a bleedin' hiccup, yeah?"

Looking like she would have been quite comfortable to just hide behind her goggles, Markov did her best to brighten herself in the midst of Lloyd's expectant stare. "Well, it has pretty much been a whirlwind," she admitted while tucking another rogue strand of her hair behind her smallish ears. "Grodd's still a little moody about the whole thing with having to take orders again but you can't argue that it beats the whole eternal damnation motif," she added with a quirk of her lips even as her eyes caught on to something more important. "Ah, speaking of, I think the boss wants to talk to me so I'll just skedaddle around ya. . ."

Her obnoxiously overconfident ways restored, Terra felt little shame in unnecessarily scooching between the two gentlemen on the way towards The Demon King. Sandwiching her lithe frame between the two gentlemen even as they scurried aside, she continued to pass on unapologetically as her bony hips wiggled with each step.

"Still have your way with the ladies, I see," Lloyd said rather ruefully as he suffered from the lingering misery of Markov pinching his bum as she passed.

Nightwing naturally raised his eyebrows in response to the thinly veiled accusation. Then, after taking a deep breath, he looked back at his fellow raven-haired vigilante. "I don't suppose that it's too much to hope that you're willing to be civil about this," he claimed with what he hoped to be the right amount of whimsy. "I mean, it's going to be bad enough watching over my own stubborn self so I'm not too confident about supporting you too."

The declaration brought in a brief sputter of laughter from Lloyd and this seemed to embolden Nightwing to venture further. "Look, I should have said this a long time ago but I just want to tell you that I wasn't planning on this and I wasn't doing this to find some warped way to get back at you. Me and Naomi. . . we just ended up spending time together whenever Roy went to Devon to pick up Lian. That's how I learned what a good, strong person she was and, when she asked me to go to dinner, I just sort of let my heart guide me."

"Oh, well that is just teeming with utter nobility," Lloyd said derisively, his sarcasm not quite making it up to his eyes as he continued to keep his sights on the path ahead. "Look, mate. Despite what I thought, Naomi was the one, good thing I had going for me during all those years at The Monster Farm. I love her like a mum and that means I'm going to do my best to make certain that she get's nothin' but the very best. . ."

"I know. I know that, Lloyd," Dick weightily broke in, the former acrobat potentially risking himself injury by grasping The Black Dog by his right shoulder. "And she does! She deserves everything you're talking about and I still don't know if whatever we've got is going to turn into something like that but. . ." The usually willful ward of Bruce Wayne sighed and shook his head to and fro as if he were trying to sift through an array of neural cobwebs. "Ya think you might be able to give me a chance to try?"

The Black Dog locked eyes with Nightwing as the both of them thought the matter over. The moment eventually passed and then Lloyd plucked Grayson's clenched hand off of his shoulder with little to no effort. "Bloody hell, Grayson. If you can't trust somebody who spent years flittin' about in scaly green panties then who can you trust?"

Leaving his opponent momentarily stunned, the Brit easily managed to ensnare Grayson within a manly embrace (with lots of pounding blows to the back and minimal chest-to-chest contact, of course) that did a fair job of clearing what was left to be taken care of between the two of them. Soldiering on towards their destination with matching steps, the two vigilantes were soon joined by a familiar third as she hung close to Lloyd's left arm. Soon her right arm was wrapped around her lover's abdomen in a way that brought them close enough together so that their outer hips would glide against each other as they moved, a gesture of affection that couldn't be avoided by the longtime pupil of the world's greatest detective.

"Exactly how much of a hand did you have in this, Miss Zor-el?"

Kara easily weathered not just Nightwing's question but also the knowing candor that came with it.. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said airily, her upthrust chin broadcasting the pride gleaned from her work like a foghorn. "Besides, I'm allowed to boss the both of you around. I am the Wonder Woman of this little trio, after all."

The claim brought the two gentlemen to a stop as Kara soldiered on for another step, the half-Kryptonian both goading them and dropping an invitation.

"Huh. And here I thought Lloyd was Wonder Woman," Dick ventured. "Y'know, lots of magic weapons and powers. Haughty, know-it-all attitude even when they have no idea what they're talking about. Affection for star-spangled underwear. . ."

"Oh, as if you're one to talk, Daisy Dick," Lloyd eagerly snapped back. "Least I'm not the one showing off my pretty, white teeth to anybody with a camera."

"Woah! Woah! Since when was I Superman?" The question was instinctually indignant and, even as it left as his mouth, Nightwing couldn't help but feel a little ashamed with how adamant his attitude had been. "Besides, we've got Superman's cousin just hanging on your arm and she wore the silly mini-skirt and everything."

"I _stopped _wearing the outfit," Kara grumbled back while immediately letting go of Lloyd's bicep (much to The Black Dog's chagrin). "And I meant that I'm the one who is supposed to come along and, y'know, smooth out the edges. Be a mediator."

"Yes, because I always put 'anger junkie' and 'Mario Party addict' at the top of my list of things to want from someone who will negotiate peace in The Middle East." It was a recklessly brave maneuver to twist through the slight doorway that The Last Daughter of Krypton left open for resistance but Nightwing managed to pull himself through with the flatly delivered quip.

"To be fair, she only broke into two anger frenzies over the course of this whole Neron debacle," Lloyd added helpfully. "Then again, she did threaten to throw me out of my own bed only minutes after my spine had been cracked open like a bleedin' Maine lobster."

"Well, that's just a crying shame," Nightwing noted while pretending to glum over the new information as he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around his chin. "I mean, if she's Wonder Woman then the least she could do is adhere to the Amazonian tenet of loyalty to one's YOW!"

"AGH!"

Kara maintained her prim smile even as Dick and Lloyd continued to soothe the backs of their heads after being soundly and deserved clouted. Of course, a kiss to Lloyd's cheek and an affectionate nuzzle of Dick's shoulders were quick to follow and the three inheritors shared a round of subdued laughter as they continued to draw closer to the chief proceedings. They all devoted a hit of their attentions toward both the towering pile of wood and the well-crafted mound of black marble that stood sternly at the base but each of them, in their own time, ultimately looked away for now. It didn't seem fair to devote anything less than their full attention to such a matter and there was still one more matter yet to be discussed.

"Lloyd, I'm tired of losing people that I care about," Nightwing began, his unflinching honesty prompting Kara to once again give a gentle squeeze to her lover's bicep with her right hand. "Now Kara told me what happened with The Condemner and you told me about what that oracle had to say but we're gonna find a way through whatever this is. I mean, we've got Amazonian, Karbarran, Oan, and Titan medical technology at our god damned fingertips. . ."

"Not to mention your girlfriend workin' round the clock since she heard the news," Lloyd couldn't help but add with a half-hearted smirk. The counter normally would have earned him a nasty look but the knowing sneer he received from the original Robin diluted whatever negativity there was to be had. "Well, I'm willing to make the best of what I've got but I thank you for the efforts, mate. Still, whatever happens, you gotta admit that we've come a long way from bein' at each other's throats over who gets to sit next to Papa Wayne at the crime desk."

Lloyd's odd wording behind the description of their first day spent together drew another chuckle from Dick and a giggle from Kara.

"Well, there's always time for us to get back to that. I'll make sure of it," Dick said warmly, his promise drawing two supportive nods from his younger compatriots. "Oh, and that's the last I hear of that 'making the most of what's left' shit. I mean, leave it to a limey to get into the whole fatalistic, death is an inevitability tripe. . ."

"All right, all right," Kara intervened, the youngest of the trio eager to avoid another rowdy row. After all, though they had long paid their respects to what little remained of Cecilia within the world of the living, it was only proper to spare some silence to a fallen friend. The archer had lain on the stone slab for the last four days, a span of time more than sufficient enough for those who wished to pay their respects to travel to Neron's former domain and give their thanks to a lowly mortal who had given her life to protect those who were far more powerful yet could still not fend for themselves. Adorned in an unfettered facsimile of the red-and-black body armor she had worn during her trip into Zalera, she no longer bore the burns, scars, and broken bones that sullied her in the dark moment when her remains had been discovered. Additionally, her body remained free of decay and deprivation in accordance to the wishes of The Demon King, the advanced temporal charms just a small portion of the honor and mark of respect that had not been bequeathed upon another human for nearly a century.

Yet, as it tended to be with demons, there would be a price for such easily offered courtesies and Dabura was more than eager to report them. Stepping towards the base of the monument, the greater demon turned to address the small crowd.

"We are all here to pay our final respects to a warrior whose accomplishments stand well over her own small stature. Here lies Cecilia Queen, a woman who renounced the petty, prideful deeds offered to her in favor of quietly honoring the exploits of those she cared for and those she wished to protect. Oh, and she has venerated them, mortals and otherwise. This imperfect stripling, despite all she was asked to overcome, has deservedly earned the acclaim and respect of those who convene upon the saddles of the living and the dead. Her stories shall be told, spread out, and distorted through the vaporous illusions of passing time but she herself shall always be remembered not only by this dark heart but also by those who came to truly love and care for her even as what remains of her are honorably scattered among the fields of Hashmalamum, a former wasteland that shall become green again with the inspiration drawn from the nobility of her sacrifice."

The Demon King offered a moment for anyone else to provide some final words. However, his invitation was shrewdly interrupted with a trio of arrows that sailed well above his head. The steel tips of the long projectiles doused in flame, it wasn't long at all before the surrounding wood was set ablaze. It would be several minutes more before the blaze would slither down to meet Cecilia at the bottom of the pyre, far long enough to allow for more of Stephanie's tears to slip toward the ground despite the sad smile that she insisted on keeping. For Cassandra Sandsmark to offer a prayer that the soul of her dear friend would pass safely to the resting place of heroes. For Tim Drake to once again ponder over what might have been.

For everyone to say goodbye.

Bruce Wayne slowly lowered his arms, the bow in his hands feeling far heavier than it should have been. "You sure you want to get involved in this?"

The youngest of the archers spared the detective a cautious stare. Rarely ever one to think before he spoke, Connor Queen quickly turned his thoughts back to the sister he never knew.

"You're damn right I'm in," came the firm reply. "Bruce, I could have been a part of this a long time ago if I had just nutted up, went to Gotham, and got in on what I knew was going on. Instead, my daughter is lying on that slab instead of me. She fought and died for a cause that should have been mine all along."

Unable to say any more, Oliver Queen walked away as quickly as his pride would allow him, the blue eyes he passed down to his daughter glistening with tears.

* * *

_Ibano's – 12:59 P.M._

"So there's no way that I could convince you otherwise?" the gentleman asked again, his cautious candor actually giving off the impression that he had been genuine hurt by the rebuke. "We have spent the last three years conferring over how to make this world a better place and now, when the solution is finally within our grasp, you choose to reclaim the guise of the blind champion."

Bruce left no impression that he was wounded by the accusation, his blue eyes steady and his voice firm. "I could never agree with any idea that the world must be destroyed in order to be perfected. Just as I told one of your former colleagues a long time ago, this is a world with good people in it, men and women that want the opportunity to better themselves and help others achieve the same. They have a right to decide how they wish to live their lives and no one person, no matter how plentiful their resources or how strong their convictions may be, has the universal right to take that away that right."

"Says the vigilante who has spent the last four years organizing a shadow unit designed for just such a purpose," the gentleman snapped back with a scoff. "Says the man who spent twenty more hunting down purse-snatchers, drug dealers, and psychological wastelands rather than devoting his full energy to taking on the genuine problems that plague the society we love."

The man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City slowly shook his head. "A leader should take heed of how they play the card of hypocrites," he countered with just enough of a erudite manner to make the gentleman across with him seethe. "My family has devoted their lives to uprooting the dark parts of humanity that can only be properly handled by those who are trained for such a practice. We will continue to dig through that soil until we tear the dictators, monsters, and murderers from our society's very foundation and, if you choose to spread your infection further than we shall do the same to you."

"You're threatening me?" the gentleman asked with a scoff. "Who here ever said anything about harming that which makes humanity the worthy ruler of all it surveys? What I am proposing is to eliminate the weak and the pointless before they can plague this soil you work so hard to till."

"By tearing apart the land itself," Bruce offered back in opposition, the detective fighting back the urge to yell. "Your plan isn't about trying to make things better but rather to remove all the things you don't personally approve of in order to improve something that doesn't require fixing."

"Oh, and what is the likelihood that anything will grow from the concrete you attend to? Just how much are you willing to spend, to _waste, _on the hope that providing so much assistance to the weak, the poor, and the downtrodden will eventually gain some form of resiliency and become anything more than a detriment to the whole?"

Bruce couldn't help but allow the half-smirk to reach his lips despite the potential consequences. The gentleman claimed to know so much about him, so much about everything, yet he failed to notice the things that kept him watching the streets of Gotham despite decades of mild successes and the occasional blistering failure. An orphaned acrobat left who bottled his rage and anger at the world in the form of bad jokes and a winning smile. A wretch amongst the wretches of the East End of Gotham City whore tortured mother and negligent father was conditioning her into a lifetime of dependency and sadness. A boy unwillingly pushed into the wild streets of West London when no one had the strength to watch over.

None of them would have been allowed to be in the gentleman's new world.

"So I would guess that this 'ceasefire' that you claim to exist is now over?"

Bruce's calm hypothesis was met by the gentleman's cold stare. "Do you have any idea how many of my soldiers would have gleefully peeled the flesh off your bones if I had not dissuaded them? I gave you the opportunity to change the world and now you'll simply throw this détente aside because you want to control that much more of the world."

"And by that you claim that monsters like Circe, Sabbac, and Teth Adam are worthy inheritors of our legacy?"

"They are a means to an end!" the gentleman roared, his right fist slamming against the table and bringing the contents on them to a rousing jostle. His extravagant display, the first genuine tell of emotion on either side of the board, drew the distracted attention of some of the surrounding diners but it was soon left ignored in the appeal of self-interest. "Bruce, I implore you. An alliance between our forces would ensure the safety of thousands of lives that will be lost in the war to follow."

Bruce's silence, impeded only slightly as he moved to drain the rest of his drink, provided a suitable reply. He maintained his quiet demeanor as the gentleman hastily paid the tab along with leaving the waitress with a tip large enough to pay for her next semester at Gotham University. Noting the generosity, he offered a salutary nod as his company rose slowly to his feet.

"Same time next week, Lex?" he inevitably asked, the chirping tones of the billionaire fop prompting the former President to snarl.

"You have four months to pick your side, Bruce. After that, there will truly be a crisis."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

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* * *

_Issue #120 Preview_

With a dangerous proposition hanging over their heads, The Misfits must band together and prepare for the war to come. Unfortunately for our heroes and heroines, their plans are threatening to be extinguished by the work of a creature from a faraway land. It is a monstrosity with the power to threaten the safety of everything Bruce is attempting to preserve and what Lex is trying to destroy. However, Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie prepare to take this threat on, the three of them may come to realize that perhaps they could find an even greater foe from within.

Join us again for the start of _Crimson Harbinger _and the next installment of The Misfits: The Clench of The Hybrid. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	120. Hybrid's Grip

Issue #120

Hybrid's Grip

_Gotham City – Ten years before the present time_

The cracked, rain-soaked cement surface of what was formerly known as Crime Alley seemed like an oddly appropriate meeting place for the bedraggled pair that journeyed there this evening. Their limbs slightly shriveled and gnarled from dehydration, they each slowly made their way toward one another while searching for the slightest, out-of-place shadow. The man's eyes were droopy but determined, the aged African-American having long been well aware of the penalties that could be levied upon someone who came to this part of the city without a proper means of attention. He shot a meaningful look at his younger comrade despite the very real possibility of not receiving a response, his reservation and the sum total of his life's experiences mixing in with a dose of fear that made him grow more fretful with each passing second.

"I don't even know why I came down here anymore!" the old man exclaimed before hastily cutting his eyes away from his familiar company. "Ain't nothin' good can come from it, I tell you."

The younger of the two within the alley, a woman of indeterminable age with long, bulky black hair, betrayed no reaction. "Funny that you're never this fussy when you're asking for food or fresh water," she pointed out, the counter drawing a scowl from the elderly man. "Rufus, you have my sympathies but time was of the essence. I just returned from some work in the Andes."

"Well, then you should have just stayed there!" Rufus fired back with an urgent whisper, his head ducking down again upon his instinctual desire to hide. "And I wasn't talking about the where, I was talking about the who. The word has been long out that you're planning on trying to make a big move and I wanna tell you, right here and now, that it isn't going to work. As a matter o' fact, the best thing you can do for this town is to leave everyone out of it. . ."

"So you'd rather just leave things the way they are," the woman hotly replied, the first flickers of emotion poking through her usually unfathomable countenance. "Just wiling about our days with no purpose in mind but survival? Just sticking your head in the sand. . ."

"Aw, don't give me that load of crap," Rufus broke in, his churchly upbringing preventing him from saying anything nastier. "Do you know how many times people like you have said something like that? It ain't nothin' but a pipe dream just to give our lives some worthless meaning until we're not even around long enough to see what went wrong."

The woman remained enigmatic as she opened the left side of her tattered coat. The scarlet illumination provided by the object stuffed in one of the pockets within brought a scant amount of light to the surroundings. "I believe we all know just what is wrong with our lives, Rufus," the woman noted while swinging shut her tattered, beige overcoat. "That's why I've been seeking the questions that will answer how to make it right, just as I was trained to do."

"What? And you want my people to lend you a hand?" Rufus asked while screwing up his face in contempt. "Need some cannon fodder that can get in the way of the beast before you can get to doing what you want to get done?"

"I'm looking for soldiers, not sacrifices," the woman stressed, her light, native brogue beginning to seep through her otherwise cool candor. "Rufus, you're smart enough to know that it's talk like that which got us into this kind of trouble in the first place."

"No! It's people like _you _that got us into this!" the mulish veteran of hell proclaimed, his once-lethargic gaze regaining the determined vigor it held as he walked the streets of Birmingham with Doctor King. "All of you and your masks and keepin' secrets and never paying the price for what you brought upon the rest of us."

The woman looked frozen in the midst of the accusation, if only for a moment, until she brought her right hand to the nape of her neck. Grabbing at the firm flap of mystically charmed plastic and plaster, she revealed a face that a handful of those who paid attention to the police beat of The Gotham Gazette in decades gone by. The years had been kinder to her than most that remained, her lightly tanned skin and rich, black eyes providing further clues to the woman's Chicano heritage. Of course, her origin was merely the first piece of a complicated answer, a shard of her wealth that coalesced with a lifetime of triumphs and pains upon the frozen mountains of Nanda Parbat as she mourned for fallen friends and mentors.

"Then consider this as a request from someone who has long called Gotham her home, _amigo_," urged Renee Montoya, the former GCPD officer and current inheritor of the faceless mask of The Question. "This city once knew that it couldn't just stand by and let the monsters have their way. Just because the beast is a little bigger doesn't mean that. . ."

"Doesn't mean that what?"

Renee and Rufus both froze like deer caught within the light of the sun. The former had only the scantest bit of experience with the voice behind the mocking inquiry and the latter had no hope for recognition but neither party had any doubt over who had approached them. There was only one creature that could speak with such malicious confidence, the certainty that they would emerge better from the grisly deal to come than those negotiating across the table and that evidence was confirmed as the figure drifted down to meet them. An apex predator examining some contemptible prey, the domineering presence stood perfectly still as they waited for the other partygoers to make their move.

Rufus ran as fast as his aged legs could carry him, his instinctual thirst for survival briefly overwhelming the paralyzing fear. Renee, on the other hand, could only look on with trepidation as she observed the figure watching her comrade with mild interest. Taking the time she was offered to provide a brief prayer for assistance to whatever powers governed over the hellish proceedings, the woman behind The Question continued trying to bottle up her fear as the creature approached.

"Sorry for surprising you," Renee's hunter began while continuing their slow, lazy steps. "It's just that, well, when I hear the word 'monster' being tossed around I can't help but zero in on it. I mean, with all this research you've apparently done on me, I'm sure you can understand why."

Renee attempted to recall the emotional centering practices that Vic had tried to hammer into her during those last, sad weeks they had spent time together and the curt but kindly words of her former partner began to ease her nerves. Memories of Harvey Bullock and Crispus Allen began to cloud over the long-ago remembrances as the people that helped shape her all screamed that she shouldn't show subservience to a monster. The cocktail of alarm and anger that was served with it quickly heated her blood and The Question felt the potency as her fingers tensed and her arm muscles tightened.

"Why should either one of us be concerned of other monsters?" The Question seethed. "They can't take anything from you and you've already taken everything from me!"

"Ugh, is this about me killing your family again?" the creature asked with a dramatic sigh. "I told you before that I've killed a lot of families. It wouldn't be fair to the rest of them if I pretended to care about yours. Speaking of which, would you excuse me for a moment?"

The Question felt that she had leapt out of her skin as the object of her attentions hastily departed without another word, even more so as her mask slapped against her face before fluttering away from her grasp. Of course, it was only a matter of time before instinct gave way to dread and then revulsion as a loud, crashing noise rang against her back. Swerving around to locate the source, she felt the bile pushing its way towards her throat as she witnessed the remains of Rufus now lying at her heels, the old man's skull smashed well beyond repair while bits of gray matter that hadn't sloshed against her jeans from the jolt of the fall began to slowly slip onto the pavement. Stifling another plea to the Almighty, the former detective backpedaled until her shoulders slammed into the unforgiving mound of bone and sinew at her back. Her mind emboldened by desperation, Montoya opened up the left flap of her coat to reveal the glowing object jammed into the largest pocket, its rays quickly meeting the face of Rufus's murderer and forcing the beast to recoil in agony.

Deciding that she wasn't about to take chances, The Question reached for the energy pistol strapped to the right side of her waist. Quickly bringing the weapon to bear, she let loose every bit of the eldritch energy within the cartridge to fire a spiraling pulse of eldritch energy that she hoped would be enough to bring her target down if not completely out. That being said, it quickly became apparent that neither possibility was held in the cards as the hunter calmly stood to their full height and thrust a single hand forward to intercept the blast with ease. The instant demolecularation of Montoya's weapon was instantly followed up by another rush of motion and the discovery that the crimson-colored crystal had been snatched away from her. Her eyes forced to take time to recover from the strain brought about by the surrounding wind pressure, The Question managed to regain her senses just in time to see her killer casually rubbing the supposedly offending object against their shoulders.

"Well, that was fun," the hunter proclaimed before swooping forward and snagging Montoya's neck in their spare hand. "How's about we make a deal, Officer Montoya? You gave me a pretty rock and, in exchange, you get to go on a wonderful journey."

The Question could only let out a strained gurgle as she was lifted into the sky, her hair slapping against the nape of her neck with the velocity of her involuntary travels. Only seconds were needed for them to climb high above the ruins of Gotham and through the looming, gray clouds that seemed to now constantly surround the once thriving metropolis. Her breathing was little more than short, terse puffs even as they broke through Earth's atmosphere, her bones either frozen or shattered and her blood clotting against the largest vessels in response to the drastic changes in pressure and temperature as The Question and her carrier soared into airless space. What was left of Renee Montoya was left to drift as a stroke and suffocation mercifully brought an end to The Question's crime fighting career but, while her brain could still function, the only thing she could focus on where the cheerily delivered last words the inheritor of the planet had left in her ear.

"Up, up, and away."

* * *

_Gotham City – Crime Alley – The present_

"Well, isn't this just a whole, overflowing bag of depressiveness. Hey! Check this out!"

Kara and Lloyd shared a knowing glance as a racket was raised to their left, the cornucopia of sounds ringing throughout the otherwise silent street and banging off the bricks and mortar that surrounded them. Perhaps the young couple had been so caught up in the contented happiness that had been their nine-month anniversary, an evening of dinner and dancing at the roof of the Söder Torn, that the sudden contrast of the present time was rubbing raw their usually impressive supplies of patience. However, they both managed to retain their professionalism and waited for the rabble-roused to rise from from the wreckage with a triumphant smile.

"OH, I LOVE TRASH!" sang Stephanie Brown, the voice of the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns a cross between a husky alto and a cat being twirled around by its tail. Her legs hidden by the rusty trash can she had leapt into and her blonde hair partially obscured by a long-rotten banana peel, the 20-year-old vigilante, volunteer, and destined light of hope for the cosmos had her elbows wedged against her stomach as she waved her hands about so that she could provide a more accurate portrayal of her grouchy inspiration. "Anything dirty or dingy or dusty! Anything ragged or rotten or rUUAAAAHH!"

The can let out a resounding _CLANG _as Lloyd slammed his right foot into the base of the aluminum canister in order to bring his adopted little sister crashing down with it.

"HEY!" Robin squawked, her supernaturally strong hands and wrists preventing any harm from coming to her. "If I wanted a critic then I would have aYAYAYAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Kara could feel a familiar throbbing rising from her temples as she watched her lover, the man who, just six hours ago, had taken her to the fields of Falkirk and recited Byron and Donne to her as they bathed in the midwinter's moonlight, become an ignoble brute capable of kicking a downed garbage can so that it would roll down an alley and noisily crash into a pile of refuse. She lightly bit down on her tongue as Lloyd turned and spotted her apprehension, the tender smile that soon graced his lips working wonders to relieve the tension.

"'M hardly a flawless fool, luv," Lloyd began, his husky, West London drawl threatening to summon a slow smile onto Kara's face. "Besides, I never did like that green bugger."

Kara twisted her face into a mild scrunch to display her dismay. "Lloyd, this isn't some kind of fictional paradise. This is Gotham and something's happened."

"Well, we knew beforehand that we might run into somethin' like this," Lloyd countered, his steps toward his lover both casual and measured. "Still, whatever it is, the three of us should be more than prepared to handle it."

"_Should be?" _asked Kara, the question broadcast over the telepathic link she shared with Lloyd sounding just slightly mischievous. _"Are you trying to say that you're worried about whether or not I can hold my own?"_

The two half-breeds were close enough for Lloyd to brush the toes of his boots against Kara's, the move a definite invasion of the woman's personal bubble that was broached even further as he planted a quick kiss on her lips. The move managed to smooth over some of the surrounding frayed edges but it was the determined luster that resonated in Lloyd's hazel eyes that proved to be enough to seal the deal. Just in time, as fortune would have it, as that was the moment when a laughing Stephanie pulled herself free from the wreckage. Stumbling towards her comrades with an untidy gait, the diminutive sparkplug of mischief and supernatural energy continued to weave dramatically from one side to the other in an inane attempt to sell her dismay.

"Wow, that was fun," Robin declared before straightening her body up to its full height while smoothing out her shoulder-length blonde hair whose peak still left her nearly a half-foot shorter than either of her compatriots. Of course, the height advantage left the young couple with plenty of opportunities to look down on the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns for her cleverness and talent but it wasn't nearly enough to keep the lifelong Gothamite from greeting her friends with a cheery smile. Having only returned to fully active duty a handful of days ago, she sported little more than tiny pockets of scar tissue from the ordeal she had suffered at the unforgiving maw of Sabbac and was ready to get back onto the field with a vengeance. "Still, after that up, close, and personal visitation with some of this place's finer elements, I want to reiterate that this place is a shithole."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, Tweety, but I couldn't help but notice you comin' in loaded for bear here," he explained while giving Robin a once over. "Brought the battery and everything."

Stephanie frowned and let out a sigh while twisting to her left to grab at the contents of a side pocket of her utility belt. Turning back to face her colleagues, she replied to Lloyd's statement by revealing a small, spherical object that fit easily between her left ring finger and thumb. The object pulsated with a warm, emerald light that grew stronger as the reduction charm placed on it was dispelled in order to fully reveal the lantern now fitting snugly within Robin's palm, the radiance of the mystical artifact seemingly throbbing with every beat of its owner's heart.

"I'm just wanting to stay safe for certain, Puppy," Stephanie said resolutely while reducing the size of her power battery back to where it would fit within its selected pocket. "After all, there's no tellin' how long we're going to be out here."

"Speaking of, how are you feeling?" Kara began, her transition drawing a weighty groan from Stephanie that the former Supergirl tried her best to ignore. "Is there anything wrong with the connection between you and. . ."

Lloyd let out a sigh for Steph's sake if not his own. "I'll be fine, pet. I mean, it's not like I haven't done this. . ."

"Well, I thought that maybe the results might have changed now that you and Za'hafal-nesh are completely fused," Kara soldiered on while expressing her concern for Lloyd's safety insofar as her lover's full integration of the greater demon known as The Condemner at the behest of Dabura, The Demon King. Though the bargain had allowed the young Brit known to some as The Black Dog to enjoy a greater access and dominion over the vast eldritch reservoirs of an eons old entity, the fact remained that there would come a time when Lloyd's human body would ultimately become unable to properly maintain such a burden. Or, if that explanation was a little too complicated for some, Lloyd had all but begun to sign his own death warrant and Kara had naturally grown quite interested in any instance where her lover could start to cross the metaphorical t. "Lloyd, you should know better than anyone that magic isn't something that can be stuffed away into a single category. There are variations and alterations of nature and. . ."

"And I've checked them and I'm all right," Lloyd broke in while planting his left hand on Kara's shoulders. "Still, if you're that interested in my well being then my advice is getting' outta here quick before something bad could happen."

"Well, that may have been a damn wordy way of sayin' 'move your ass' but I'll take it," Stephanie declared as her body was quickly enclosed within a wreath of emerald energy. "And this is just the first looksie I'm going through here but I can already tell that there's plenty to see."

"Like how all the mental signatures I'm picking up aren't coming from human brains," Lloyd asked back. "Or perhaps the slight problem that we left this town with 15 million humans and otherwise dwelling about and now there appear to be about 1,500?"

"Well, that is a puzzler," Kara confessed, the young warrior woman taking a handful of cautious steps forward. "Still, I was more focused on all the buzzing over my ears. It's just some. . . supernatural hum that should be familiar."

"That's 'cause it's Green Lantern energy," Stephanie piped up, the young woman's professionalism restoring itself in an instance. "And there's a whole cluster of it surrounding the planet's upper atmosphere, thick and from a multitude of different sources but there doesn't seem to be any effort into moving the force or shifting it into some other form or shape."

"So it's a barrier then," Lloyd presumed, the quick nod from Robin immediately providing confirmation of the theory. "And, as we all know, the only reason to build a fence is to keep something where it is."

Stephanie frowned at the notion, the thought of a permutation of her own power being used in such a manner rubbing roughly against her free-spirited nature. "All right, so here's the 64-billion dollar question, which may not be worth too much given that humanity may very well be wiped out. Is this fence keeping people out or keeping other things in?"

It was doubtlessly a worthy quandary to ponder over but Kara was clearly not interested in throwing in her own two cents at the time. Paying attention both to the silence and the rest of their surroundings, Lloyd and Stephanie followed the gaze of their comrade to gather evidence over something they both had suspected.

"Well, we could always ask the locals," Kara noted while keeping her eyes to the sky, her crystalline blue lenses focused on the several dozen looming shadows high above them. Her phenomenal vision offered her some extra time to identify the unexpected visitors and she took full advantage of it in the hopes of preparing for whatever was to come. There were a handful of half-bloods from the moons surrounding Thangaar, their naturally formed black wings enabling them to stay aloft while their strong talons held various beasts that were incapable of such expeditious travels. Some of these usual ground-based beasts included a bull-like monstrosity that Kara recalled to be a Perytonian, one of the many warlike tribes that had sided with Sinestro and Vincent in their attempts to invade Karbarra. As if to provide a contrast, there were also a small array of ursaroid creatures amongst the descending ranks, the hirsute denizens of the industrial powerhouse appearing quite eager to make their presences felt as they fell from the grips on their shoulders as one and landed around them.

"Hey! You don't suppose that we could just tell 'em that we were here first?"

Kara bravely volunteered to take the time out to shoot a withering glare at Stephanie while Lloyd stepped forward to address the horde.

"I do not know if you can understand what I'm saying but we mean you no harm," The Black Dog began with his native tongue while his telepathy searched for anyone who appeared to understand him. "We are merely visitors seeking information and we would be most grateful if you could provide it."

His words were met with a procession of guttural replies and roars, every one of which proving to be unfamiliar to his ears. On the other hand, it didn't require his supernatural intuition to recognize that the intents around him ranged from darkly amused to impressively hostile. The entire thing was starting to make Lloyd feel like a bug trapped within a jar (a familiar sentiment, granted, but hardly an environmental factor that he had ever grown comfy with). On the other hand, he had thankfully yet to meet an insect that had access to an eldritch-powered saber that could slice the very atoms themselves.

"_So what are we lookin' at here?" _The Black Dog silently asked their translator, his hazel eyes tinged with silver to address the new arrivals of the threat he possessed. _"'Cause all I'm getting 'ere is a mixture of bloodlust, anticipation, and a steamin' stinkpot of fear."_

"_They're arguing about what they're going to do to us," _Robin replied, the brow of the fair-haired Gothamite furrowingas she worked to employ her ring as a literal universal translator. _"Most of them want to capture us alive so that we can be turned in to somebody else while there's a bit of a fringe group that wants to skin us and use our biceps for beef jerky." _The judicious glare fired back at her by Kara wasn't enough to break the Green Lantern's concentration. _"Oh, and apparently the bull-guy thinks we're clean and healthy enough to take a little pleasure from before being food so I guess we have ourselves a not-so-secret admirer. Oh, and he's __**really **__interested in you, Puppy. Isn't that sweet?"_

Lloyd shot the Perytonian a wry, come-hither glance. "Well, it's not like the cosmos don't already know that I'm dead sexy," he replied only a flicker before employing his telekinesis to free the _Mugalshir _from its sheath and send it screaming towards the scarlet-shelled minotaur. As agile and aware of its surroundings as his opponent was, Lloyd found himself smirking as the alien entity could only flail backwards as the tip of his blade came inches from the Perytonian's groin before launching into an abrupt U-turn that brought the gleaming, silver saber back into the grasp of its owner. As he had anticipated, the confident gambit goaded the alien into rushing in several steps ahead of the others and Lloyd made sure to make his adversary pay for his hastiness with a quick sidestep before slashing the Achilles heels of the bull-like beast and leave it to awkwardly tumble down to the ground.

The gesture was meant to serve as either a warning or a provocation and it didn't surprise the trio of Misfits that the majority of their foes took it as the latter.

"_Just leave 'em with some bumps and bruises, ladies," _Lloyd cautioned his troops through the telepathic link before teleporting to the rear of their opponents' formation. _"After all, 's not like we know enough to fully tell friend from foe yet."_

"_Oh, all right," _Stephanie griped back, the Green Lantern sheathing her emerald energy claws immediately even while she ducked under the aerial swipe of a Thangaarian Raven. _"Then again, this does give me the chance to be creative_," she noted as she pushed her ring into creating a spectral garbage can that was large enough to ensnare both her previous attacker and another of its black-winged comrades. Continuing to shape her fearsome will to empower her imagination, the little troublemaker quickly transformed the emerald receptacle into a large-mouthed cannon. _"I mean, if it's one thing I don't like about black ops vigilante projects is that they really ask you to go by the book."_

Kara's ears were ringing with the force of the vociferous and unnecessary BOOM as her younger partner sent the pair of hawkmen soaring into the wild, gray yonder. She could feel the blood streaming through her stressed pinnae even as she effortlessly blocked the haymaker of a green-skinned creature whose face was a mass of craggy muscle and sinew. The Last Daughter of Krypton lightly tapped her right fist against the unseemly mug, its rough features unwillingly pulled taut by the power of the impact while the rest of her unfortunate target sailed along with it towards a flaccid tumble to the ground. Feeling the sting of mystic heat sizzle across her back, she turned the tables on her next foe in a heartbeat with a light blast of heat vision that sent the attacking Crimson Regid down with an anguished shriek.

* * *

As the one-sided battle continued towards its almost predetermined conclusion, a far wiser veteran of the battlefield chose to look upon the events from afar. Despite spending the past, several seconds in allowing pleasant memories to momentarily overcome her present concerns, the onlooker was naturally alarmed as Zor-el's anger seemed to momentarily get the better of her. The catalyst was Randt Larras, a brute of a Karbarran whose sordid past of concocting a weapons distribution empire had helped him become a veteran to the mayhem that occasionally surrounded the city. The money-grubbing monster had apparently shouted out some unseemly claim and the fair-haired half-Kryptonian was quick to make the ursaroid pay for his uncouth ways.

The blast of heat vision that followed was enough to set the Karbarran's torso ablaze, the horrific bellowing of the beast reaching even over to her ears nearly a half-mile away. A quick and brutal death was quick to follow if The Black Dog had not rushed to extinguish the blaze, his incantations designed to subdue the encompassing heat as flawlessly executed as she remembered. She offered a winsome smile at the half-demon, a tender gesture that intensified as the Brit moved to soothe the frayed nerves of his beloved by grabbing her firmly by the hand and whispering into her ear. This, of course, left Stephanie to clean up the rest but that appeared to be a cheery task for the spirited woman in black and orange as she employed her agility to turn her into a literal whirling dervish that was fearsome enough to convince those who could to flee from the efficiency of the new arrivals.

The observer briefly pondered over whether any orders needed to be given over the course of the victory. Had the trio already evolved to the point where any words, be they spoken or otherwise, were all but unnecessary in everything but the worst theaters of war? Theirs was the chemistry that had seen to the rise and downfall of gods, genuine and impostor alike. They were a united force that had taken the destiny of a troubled land into their hands and shaped it into a definitive role that would benefit the cosmos rather than place it constantly ill at ease. It was a destiny that seemed laughable to assign upon watching Kara take the last of a series of deep breaths and outright ridiculous as Lloyd and Stephanie squabbled over a simple trifle while conducting a rudimentary investigation of their surroundings but there fate stood regardless, its judgment open for interpretation by those who were still around and willing to make the attempt.

Those thoughts, of course, steered the onlooker to making a simple inquiry.

"Why are you here?"

* * *

Employing their respective supernatural sensory capabilities, each of the three warriors were able to anticipate the blind charge well before the wounded Perytonian could hit his mark. Predictably eager to finish a job he started, Lloyd casually surged forward to meet the attack of the horned creature and sent his foe down with a drop-toe hold that allowed him to deal out a unique brand of punishment as he slid his right ankle against the bleeding apertures along the alien's heels. The distinctive agony was enough to distract The Black Dog's opponent as Lloyd unhooked the ankle binding but his move to harmlessly disable the monster with a nerve strike was cut off as a pencil-thin beam of white energy punched through the back of the Perytonian's head. Lloyd instinctually teleported away from the grisly but efficient scene, his senses on full alert for whatever had slipped past his attentions.

Turning his eyes westward, Lloyd joined Kara and Stephanie as they observed an armor-clad figure descend to meet them. The familiar proximadistal growth pattern and the appropriate number of limbs obviously gave away that the mystery creature was a humanoid but the body casing left nearly everything else a mystery. Its frame was long and lean enough to belong to either a male or a female and the ridged, golden chest plate that began at the shoulders and stretched to the middle of the chest did wonders in concealing any other clues that could have been found on that particular part of the body. With the exception of the long boots and the chest plate laced with gold, the remainder of the shell was pitch black, the combination of the coloring and the creature's apparent yen for espionage making it appear to look like a wraith amidst the gloom of the early Gotham evening.

"Well, um, hello there," Stephanie finally said in greeting, the sketchy power signatures provided by her ring prompting the slight hairs on her neck to stand on edge. "Not that I'm against the occasional unnecessary homicide but maybe you can explain why we're. . ."

A sonic-boom like impact dashed apart the surrounding rubble and shook one of the few buildings left standing as the armored figure sent Robin soaring through the skies with a ferocious haymaker. Intuition mingled with alarm as Kara and Lloyd readied themselves a fraction of a second after the punishing blow, the former's eyes adopting a crimson hue while the latter bent his stubby fingers in preparation for casting any number of spells ranging from binding spells to summoning blistering bolts of eldritch plasma. The armored figure looked upon the countermeasures without moving their body in the slightest degree, the masked instigator radiating confidence as they took over their portion of the gambit.

"Sorry about the surprise," the mystery creature began, the combined employment of the mask and a vocal modulation device keeping the speaker's identity a secret. "It's just that it's been a while since I've seen the three of you and I just recalled how infuriating that little bitch could be."

Lloyd maintained a firm grip on the _Mugalshir _as he examined a creature that was apparently strong enough to dim the lights of one of the Earth's most powerful warriors with one shot. "All right, so you're claiming that you know us," he noted while keeping his blade in a classic frontal guard. "So then how about explaining why you just tried to take the little one's head off?"

A brisk chuckle rumbled from the speakers installed in the figure's mask as they put their slight hands upon their hips. "Well, that gives me a clue about just where you happen to come from. I was half-expecting you to charge in with guns and ambitions blazing, especially given the way that your little girlfriend looks to be about ready to blow her gasket." In a rare moment of kindness, the unknown entity allowed the half-demon to take a moment to fire a quick look that helped him cool the tempers of his beloved half-Kryptonian. "And as for why I want to kill Little Miss Lantern? Well, let's just say that it's just my way of getting the three of you out of my hair as quickly as possible."

The Black Dog recognized the rejoinder as another attempt to goad him into attacking and resisted the urge as he devoted a portion of his efforts to try and worm his way through the psychic defenses of their still aggressor. Ever the multitasker, The Condemner's chosen scion continued to keep Kara in his physical and psychological periphery, the telepath easily coasting through her emotional ebb.

"Is that the reason why the city is in ruins?" Kara asked softly, her forearms and biceps tensed. "Was this somebody's way of sending a message?"

The masked entity shrugged their shoulders as a first retort. "I like to think of this as more of an impressionist piece. . . and would you kindly tell that handsome devil to stop trying to root around in my head?" Neither Kara or Lloyd gave any indication of being startled or surprised at the accusation and the calm demeanor that the stranger employed seemed to indicate that the lack of shock was mutual. "You see, I always wanted to find a way to create beauty from the world I watched over. It just took some time for me to figure out that humanity was supposed to be my canvas."

Lloyd could actually feel the silver tinge rumbling through his eyes. The young Brit was feeling like an anxious child, his inklings of restlessness stirring as he waited for just the right moment. _Red Rover, Red Rover, let Black Dog come over. . . _

"_Stephanie will be all right," _Kara reported back, the clever woman easily skimming free what was at the top of Lloyd's mind. _"She's got a major concussion but she should still be good to mo. . ."_

"I'm sorry, I should have made myself clearer," the mystery fighter broke in. "When I said no mind tricks the first time I also meant no talking amongst yourselves. After all, secrets can be such a dangerous part of our line of work."

"That they can," Lloyd replied while shifting the grip on his blade so that the flat of the _Mugalshir _ran parallel to the ground below. "So perhaps you'd be so kind as to explain just who you are and what you think we should be doing?"

The enigma in the midnight mask slowly regarded the adjustments in positioning. While Lloyd had opted for a stance that offered greater attacking speed, Kara had lowered her arms so that she would presumably draw more power from her punches. "You're complementing each other without even thinking to do it," noted the hunter. "Out of respect for the past, I'll allow the two of you to leave her unharmed. The Green Lantern, on the other hand, is coming with me."

"Fuck off," Kara bluntly replied. "We're not about to hand our friend over to somebody who would take pride in this kind of destruction, least of all a monster who we don't know from Adam."

There was an odd spring of silence as Stephanie's attacker cocked their head to one side. "Oh, Kara. The both of you know me more than you'll ever care to admit."

Lloyd rushed forward as Kara sought to Stephanie's safety, the raven-haired swordsman purposefully meeting his foe in the middle of the makeshift battlefield with his saber at the forefront. His lash was quick and true to meet its target but a stinging block sent a jolt through his wrist that coupled nicely with the surprise that came with the recognition that his unbreakable blade had been deflected with nothing but a finger. Rare were the moments when The Black Dog realized that he was out of his depth on the battlefield but at least the Brit had the presence of mind to play for distance until his assistance would return, the half-demon wisely choosing to remain on a cautious offensive while keeping away from whatever meager counters his opponent chose to provide. Warning bells sprung up in his ears as the battle reached the three-second mark and his slash was deflected with a spinning back fist that his opponent continued to work through despite having fulfilled its original role. Planting his feet and leaping backwards, he managed to narrowly avoid the downward haymaker that was clearly intended to cave in his skull from the top on down, a tremor bubbling outward from where the armored fist had struck the ground.

"Interesting trick," Lloyd noted while centering himself and taking the _Mugalshir _into a two-handed grasp. "And it wasn't a byproduct of the armor either which means that you're wearing all that to keep a secret instead of your head."

There was no way that The Black Dog could tell because of the veil but, if he could, he would have quickly noticed that his realization drew an earnest smile from the face of his antagonist.

"Ever the loyal student," the masked figure remarked with a hint of amusement, the cheer obscenely blunted as the warrior employed some phenomenal bit of speed to approach Lloyd's back against his knowledge. The two kicks that followed were centered more on precision than power, the first landing squarely against the right side of Lloyd's abdomen at just an angle where his lower ribs would be forced to wedge against the half-demon's lung and the second pressing against the right Achilles heel and forcing The Black Dog to fall to one knee.

"Too bad Bruce never got around to teaching you about when to run."

Lloyd was still fighting to breathe as he felt himself being flipped over and straddled, the slight weight on his gut paling in comparison to the vicious strength displayed by the right hand wrapped around his neck. The neural reports of the damage done to his trachea were easily blotting out any hope he could have had at creating a bolt of telekinetic energy and his meager attempt at a banishing spell simply ricocheted off the creature's armor before rocketing off into the skies.

"Such beautiful eyes," the stranger murmured while looking down at the pools of pure silver. "To think that I had forgotten the poetry that could be found in such splendor."

A wave of gold and crimson met the attempt to render Lloyd unconscious with the same nerve strike that The Black Dog had intended to use in order to bring down the recently departed Perytonian. In fact, the creature's stretched fingers were mere inches away from his carotid artery before Kara made her return to the battlefield, the half-Kryptonian wisely shifting her anger towards the task of throwing a right hook that put their mystery opponent flat on their ass. The armored combatant quickly made it back to their feet only to be met by a wave of Sambo and Shotokan-style strikes, the contrasting styles a deliberate attempt by the former Supergirl to continue to throw off what was most likely a far faster adversary. However, after a plethora of misses and parries and a small handful of successes, The Last Daughter of Krypton was pushed back by an explosion of blinding energy that hastily brought the battle back to a standstill.

"Another case of proper execution directed towards the wrong problem," the shrouded fighter noted with an air of derision. "You would have done better to meet your anger head on rather than continue to find an answer elsewhere."

Just as her lover had done before her, Kara sagely avoided the pointedly familiar taunt. The last move had long been a staple of Lloyd's arsenal and she would have been foolish to believe that her adversary was somehow not keenly aware of that as well. Still, the note of caution was soon to mingle with a chord of hope as she noticed Lloyd rising back to his feet out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry, I just don't usually trust the intentions of somebody who's so eager to lash out at someone's back," Kara slowly replied, her drawn out words allowing enough time for Lloyd to approach their opponent's flank.

"As if the both of you are ones to talk," the unidentified nemesis fired back while splaying out their left arm. "Thankfully, a wise man once made sure to teach me about how important it was to prepare for potential disadvantages."

A spark of silver briefly twirled around Kara and Lloyd's opponent as the young couple still waited for the proper time to strike, the numinous glint soon coming to focus around the enemy's right hand. Another slight glimmer and the odd mist had transformed into a familiar weapon, its black, snake-skin hilt seemingly finding a familiar home within the holder's grip. The sight of the meter-long blade was enough to provoke Kara into taking an involuntary step backwards as she recalled her blood slipping slowly onto the mystic steel through a hundred cuts. It was the moment that she had never felt more vulnerable, those eternal minutes as her lover's childhood friend had employed the _Kiku-inchimonji _to slice into her: body, heart, and soul.

Lloyd had already been batted away by the time Kara managed to fight away the shadow stench of blood and human refuse, the half-demon momentarily knocked loopy after a flurry of blocked lashes and dodged slashes that culminated with his armored foe slamming the hilt of Vincent's old blade against the center of his skull. Stumbling slowly to the ground as he fought to shake off the cobwebs, his motivation to clear his head was made that much clearer by the one-sided exchange happening in front of him. Doubtlessly overwhelmed by both the strength of their opponent and her memories of the mystic katana, Kara resorted to nothing more than dodging and swerving away from the sword swipes. Looking on helplessly at the display, Lloyd's brain was swamped with foreboding while his heart lurched with sympathy but he still couldn't quite convince his body to move before their fearsome adversary brought an end to the one-sided game with a formidable left cross to the skull that left Kara to listlessly stagger into the waiting mercies of the flat of the blade that had slaughtered Mao Tenryu and countless others. His blood running cold as he watched his love's body supported by nothing more than the stern blade tucked underneath her drooping chin, he finally managed to get his legs to move as the predator settled the katana into a fencer's pose before twisting into a clockwise spin and lashing the long blade through Kara's gut.

The aroma of Kara's spilled blood hung heavy in Lloyd's nostrils as he twisted his airborne body through a tight somersault, the odd change in momentum allowing The Black Dog to take his faster foe by surprise. Of course, the need of efficiency overcame the lure of launching a fatal blow and the best he could do was slash across his opponent's mask with the barest edge of the _Mugalshir_. Fetching Kara's quivering, blood-soaked body in the time allowed to him, Lloyd already had his blade at the ready by the time he had placed his lover in a safe location nearly a hundred miles away. He saw that a good portion of the lower half of the mask had fallen apart with the impact but the reveal of the creature's lips and chin only confirmed something that The Misfits' second-in-command had already suspected.

"That happened here?" he asked plainly with only a hint of sadness. "How could something like this happen?"

The armored figure merely dabbled their fingerprints against the bleeding aperture. "There's so much left for you to realize. Both you and that unforgiving leech you took pity on. Again, out of respect to the past, I won't force you to suffer."

The Black Dog could sense the mysterious presence well before its arrival but still found himself surprised to see that the spiraling beam of yellow energy was fearsome enough to give his adversary pause. Feeling confident that his foe was stopping to consider their options, Lloyd turned to meet the creator of the familiar pulse only to discover that a dark figure was descending to meet him. A symbol of fear for many but an inspiration for him and a handful of others, Lloyd looked on as the slim creature's black boots softly made contract with the ground. The long cape, pointed cowl, pure-white eye lenses and bat-shaped insignia were more than enough to seal the deal.

"Well, well," the masked creature finally replied, their scarred lips twisted into a sick smile. "This wouldn't just be another case of survivor's guilt would it?"

Gotham's dark protector merely extended her slim and deceptively deadly left hand where a growing aura of indigo-colored energy had begun bubbling. "Pack it in, old friend. The youngsters come with me and that includes the little bird. Unless, of course, you think you can get rid of me by the time the two ladies recover themselves but I would think those to be odds that are a little rich to take without a little consideration."

The words were spoken with a cold determination that almost sent Lloyd's mouth agape but the half-demon managed to stifle it before he could embarrass himself. The Bat seemed to sense that as well and The Caped Crusader fired back at him with a half-smirk that looked eerily similar to the handiwork of the woman's predecessor.

"You know they don't belong here," the holder of the _Kiku-inchimonji _replied, the snappish tone bringing the bizarre moment to a hasty end. "And what do you think they'll be able to do for you? You've never been able to beat me no matter what help you had and, whatever you're thinking, this time is going to be no different."

Lloyd felt it wise to steer further away from both his possible savior and his definite enemy, the young swordsman stepping back until he was all but equidistant from the other points of the twisted triangle. "Well, I'd ask the both of you not to speak to me as if I wasn't here. Not to mention that whatever is brewing here doesn't look that bloody appetizin'. . . "

"Then come with me and find out more, Lloyd" broke in The Bat, her eyes focused on the armored figure all the while. "Look, I'm not asking for 100 percent trust here but I know you've got some questions and I'm willing to answer them. If you don't like what I have to offer then I'll do whatever I can to make certain to get back to where you need to be."

Lloyd raked the tip of his tongue across the tips of his upper incisors, a nervous habit that had frequently drawn Kara and Stephanie's ire. "And what if I see how this hand plays out?"

"Then you'll die along with her," the masked figure calmly replied while turning on their heel. "Fair enough. I'll admit that I'm interested in seeing how this plays out. Besides, I've always wanted the opportunity to finally put an end to you when you were at your worst. This will just give me another chance."

* * *

Kara awakened, as she did more often than she cared to admit, to the sound of Stephanie jabbering.

"So what the hell is up with that masked bastard? Or is it a masked bitch? I mean, I didn't get a good look at the armor before I got swatted but I was starting to think it was, like, either one of those bishounen fanboys or just a really flat woman. And did she really have Vincent's old sword? 'Cause I always thought that Lloyd would keep a close eye on that thing like he does now even though I thought it might be a good idea to try and find the person who owned it before Mao bought it from them? Y'know, take the whole Kwai Chang Caine and walking all over Japan and doooooooo doo doo dooooooooo!"

Fairly convinced that she was safe, the half-Kryptonian wisely drowned out the Green Lantern's ramblings while marveling that she had managed to pay attention to it as long as she had. Keeping her eyes shut, Kara took in nothing more than smell and touch and nestled herself into the familiar arms that carried her. Unsure of whether she had been given away by her thoughts or her slight motions, she provided a shy smile as Lloyd briefly held her closer. The close contact kept her from giving in to the yearning to scratch at the itching against her stomach, the final side effects as the once-sizeable wound across her abdomen continued to heal itself.

"_How long have I been out?"_

"_Just a half-hour or abouts," _Lloyd silently replied. _"We've still got some time before we get to where we're going so. . ."_

"_So I can go back to sleep and have you carry me around in your string-beany arms?" _Kara offered, a chuckle escaping her pale lips. _"Anyone ever tell you Brits that you try too hard to be chivalrous?"_

Lloyd let out a sigh that almost broke Kara into letting out a full-out laugh but she managed it by lightly gnawing on her bottom lip. _"You forget that we apologize a lot," _he quipped back. _"And have tea with scones after every meal an'. . ."_

"_Get notoriously pissy after losing a match." _

The Black Dog kept himself to a light grumble, the telepath suddenly understanding Roy's claim that there was nothing more disgusting than watching a couple finish each other's sentences. _"Got to admit that it's been a while, luv. Add that to all the circumstances already rumbling about and you can understand why I might think it to be wise to just crawl back into bed."_

"_Well, I can definitely see the appeal. . . especially under certain circumstances," _Kara added while briefly grazing her lover's left bicep with the fingertips of her right hand. _"Still, that wouldn't help us explain why __**she's **__wearing that outfit and everything else that might come with it."_

"Okay, so what is the deal with you people!" The Bat finally lashed out, her exclamation impressively putting an end to Stephanie's continued barrage of verbiage. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this time travel? Spiritual projection? Has Scott Bakula finally managed to find a way to leap into Hoshi Sato's pants? What?"

It was almost enough, despite everything that was going on, to tempt Lloyd into providing an honest smile. "Call it a little bit from Column A and a little bit from Column B."

The Bat fired back with a perturbed sneer, the reply a far cry from the resolute and stern behavior from before. "Well, that's not enough of an answer but I'll tell you that this is probably the last place you wanted to be."

"And that explanation would fly a little bit better if we knew more about what we were dealing with," Kara broke in, the time she needed to get the words out more than enough for her to clamber out of Lloyd's grasp. "Or, if that will take too much time, then just tell me why I'm surrounded by the only three Earthlings left on this planet." Her eyes wide open, the daughter of Zor-el finally took an extended look at the narrow caverns that they had been traveling down. The depths were devoid of light save for the golden glow that rose from The Bat's palm, the illumination also proving to be enough to enabling someone without her enhanced senses to look on as their rescuer looked down and scuff the heel of her boot against the withered limestone as she moved to remove her mask.

"Because the few humans that were left decided that they didn't want to make a home out of the galaxy's premier holding pen for criminals. The entity you fought was the first and the worst of the prisoners and the reason I decided to stay behind."

"Sounds depressing," Lloyd noted for Kara's sake. "So what would that make you then?"

The Bat finally let the cowl slip away from her face.

"Me?" asked Stephanie Brown. "I'm just a very lonely warden."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You know, I would apologize for this issue being a little late but, quite frankly, I'm not feeling too terribly apologetic. I mean, you try working 100+ hours and trying to have a social life! Stuff like this doesn't make it nearly as easy to be a functional nerd as it should be! And, hey, it's not like I'm the first fanfiction writer to be late for something. Still, if what you're looking for is penitence than I'm pretty certain I'll be able to get back to my usual schedule by the time Issue #121 rolls around.

And speaking of which. . .

* * *

_Issue #121 Preview_

So what in the Samuel Langhorne Clemenhell is going on? All of humanity is dead and Earth has become a prison planet? Stephanie has become Batman (or would it be Batwoman)? And how can Stephanie be Batman if we already have a Stephanie being Robin? Most importantly, why would a charming author like me take such joy in torturing his readers with the start of a slow build at the very start of a novel?

Well, I can answer the last one. I am a prick. As for the rest, you can discover more in the next installment of The Misfits: Splintered Symbolization. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	121. Splintered Symbolization

Issue #121

Splintered Symbolization

_Three years, six months, and 14 days before the present time_

Tightly clustered as they were within the spider web of intersections that branched out the underground tunnels of Themyscira, the sizeable coterie of rogues, murderers, and out-and-out monsters continued to fritter about with varying ranges of impatience. Their noble cause was one that had been abandoned by the greatest heroes of the galaxy but the continued and necessary need for serenity was providing continual harsh reminders of the difficulties they would soon be facing. It registered firmly with every snarl of a Qwardian nobleman, each grumble from the gaggle of Thaangarians that had claimed the highest-reaching portion of the catacombs, and the worried chatter of each and every member of this makeshift intergalactic militia. It seemed as if the slightest, unexpected drop of a pin could upset the entire order and all of that was provided and more as a green-skinned alien and a tusked beast from Rann vaulted their voices above the throng.

"The Bat is who we must eliminate first," roared the Fortunian within his high-pitched, native tongue, his jade jowls quivering with the emotion behind his words. "Eliminating her will promise us power instead of mere freedom, the opportunity to usurp the authority brought to the other prize."

"Bah. You have not spent time here to know better!" the Rannian rumbled back, his pale, muscular skin almost enough to mistake him for a light through the resounding gloom. A former nobleman on his planet of origin, he had been sentenced to Earth by The Green Lantern Corps for his grisly efforts to prove himself a hunter against his common prey. "Our leaders are right. We must focus our efforts on The Beast. That is the monster that has made this planet a world of prisoners! Rid the Earth of something that even The Corps fear to cross and we will be released for our crimes."

The rejoinder could have easily been taken as encouragement and thus it was met by derisions and grumbling denials from the impoverished and immoral creatures around him.

"The Bat's tactics be damned! She has fought The Beast with greater frequency and success than all of us put together!" the deposed figure roared over the noise. "Where our leaders are wrong is their choice to not involve The Bat in our eff. . ."

There were precious few presences that could have brought such furtive entities to a silence but the figure that slowly stalked his way to the middle of the proceedings managed to do so nevertheless. Standing a head above even the massive Karbarrans in the crowd, his muscle-bound frame forced others to skitter aside to allow the necessary room to pass. His temples aged and speckled with iron-gray hair and his reddish-brown body armor pockmarked by age and labor, he offered a morsel of gentility for the noisy Rannian and allowed the fellow to blend back in the crowd without so much as a word. Sweeping his sights before the crowd that gathered to hear him, his crystalline, blue eyes briefly mingled with crimson flickers as he swept up the last of the intellectual stragglers into his sway.

"The Bat is a variable that none of us are able to control," Dru-Zod declared, the former military head of the long-annihilated planet of Krypton allowing no further argument. "We have found another way of defeating The Beast but you should all rest assured that this will not be an easy battle. Remember that thousands upon thousands of creatures have shared these kinds of plans and all have had their fates ended by the unforgiving strength of our opponent."

The words incited the lingering fear and stoked it and Zod, a longtime veteran of crafting cowards into an army, collected that trepidation and moved to mold it once again.

"Remember your bravery for it may bring safety to the one standing next to you," he continued on with a determined bellow that felt as if it could have seared through the surrounding rock. "We were each brought here for our individual crimes, our sentences either just or unjust but in unity we shall find our freedom! Liberation from the foul clutches of The Beast!"

The exclamation brought forth a mighty cheer, just as the last of the Kryptonians had expected, and the old warhorse employed the distraction to meander through the crowd once again. Most of the fools were too conflicted by their own fear to pay respect to his parting but those who did were met with a gaze imbued with all the false certainty that the former general had to offer. His eyes were surrendering more and more to the crimson as the racket continued to pierce through his sensitive ears but, upon clearing the throng, he managed to move away from it in a flash of motion that brought him several hundred yards from where the criminals continued to cavort and cheer and revel in the possibilities.

"There's cruelty in the way you choose your words, old man."

Zod did not yet choose to look back at the surprisingly wise youth, his cynical smirk proving to be more than enough of a suitable response.

"They may be fools but they will serve their purpose. The sheer numbers of our force should be enough to mildly convince The Afflicted that this is nothing more than a foolish frontal assault. It will be up to us to make certain that we take the best advantage of whatever scant amount of time is offered to us."

The old man finally turned to greet his unexpected collaborator, the veteran of battle once again admiring the Earthling's raven-black hair and deep, azure eyes. They were products of her pedigree, an insultingly common theme within his affairs over the last several decades but his dismay was overcome by the stripling's bravery despite the overwhelming odds. Her nervous swallow and deep breathing were obvious hints that she was still uncomfortable with addressing him but she still managed to power her way through, the determination something her family could have taken pride in had they survived to greet this tragic day.

"Well, then you picked a fine way to inspire the cannon fodder then. And don't look at me that way, it was keeping away from this kind of thinking that already cost me far too much" the woman replied, her bold rejoinder drawing a bark of a laugh from Zod's shriveled lips. "However, I couldn't help but notice that you were referring to our foe by the name given to her by the horde but just then you spoke of them by the name they gave to themselves."

The detective work had been admirable and sound, so much so that Zod harshly swerved away from his inquisitor. "You need not concern yourself with where my loyalties lie, Terran. Rest assured that they lie with the continued search for my deserved reward, just as it always has."

* * *

"What the. . .? How the. . .? BuzbawadaOW!"

The elder of the two Stephanie Browns silenced the yammering of her junior by lightly swatting her on the rim of her forehead. The familiar bluish-black cowl still pooled around the base of her neck, she rolled her pale, cerulean eyes to present her frustration further as the recipient of her retort furtively rubbed at the offended area. Of course, it had been a long time since she had someone to speak with in such a manner and the former Robin couldn't help but relish in it, the satisfaction just as savory as the sight of watching Kara, Lloyd, and her younger self fighting side-by-side before their mutual foe dashed it all to ruins once again.

"Yep, you're me," The Bat said simply, the easily made revelation prompting the eyes of her younger self to bulge outward in a refreshingly comical fashion. "Yes, _you _are _me_. I've been alive and kicking a hell of a lot longer than you have so I get top billing."

"I suppose that's fair," Lloyd reasoned, the Brit quick to speak for his still-silent comrade. "After all, Robin and Batman just doesn't have the right ring to it."

The elder Stephanie raised her eyebrows knowingly before looking down at her chosen attire. She had tried her best to make her gear into an aesthetic amalgamation that would properly honor all those that had helped make the symbol what it was. The cobalt-blue, long-eared cowl and the black bat stitched at the torso were odes to Bruce, of course, but the additions of a golden border along the winged insignia, a black chest plate and a cape whose hem only swept down to the backs of her knees allowed Cassandra Cain to stake a fairly sizeable claim of her own. Finally, the charcoal leggings festooned with leg holsters that coupled with her utility belt allowed her to pay homage to the man where she had first drawn her inheritance, a sometimes glorious but often painful undertaking that she wouldn't take back even if she could.

"This was a torch I had to pick up, I'm afraid," the elder Stephanie finally confessed, her saddened but oddly flighty candor telling Lloyd all he needed to know about that. "So how about we try and place you guys first and we'll work our way from there? What was the last Big Bad you managed to put on your belts?"

Kara and Lloyd shared an infinitesimal grasp for understanding before their respective wheels finished turning. "Neron," the former replied. "We managed to return The Bane of Velius back to The Demon King and now we're preparing to take on whatever Lex Luthor has to throw at us."

The Bat quirked her lips to one side as she thought it over, her tired head slowly bobbing up and down. Odd as it seemed, she lacked nearly every sign of aging that was commonplace with humans. Her slightly pale skin was roughened by longtime injuries but still retained the smoothness bequeathed to the young. It was her eyes that told the true tale though, the windows to an aged soul that had obviously seen enough for several lifetimes.

"Okay, so that puts you guys about 25. . . 26 years before now," The Bat replied, the fatigue in her candor making it sound like the admittance by itself was absolute exhausting. "Sweet, buttery Jesus, you tykes are making me feel more decrepit with every second I look at you."

"Well, I think I still look pretty young and heart," the younger Stephanie threw in, the potentially insulting aside drawing a smirk from her older counterpart. "So you said you were planning on telling us the whole truth so what the hell happened here? I mean, I know it's never been all sunshine and roses and I never figured it would be but this. . . this is."

"A bucket of piss with a side order of shit?" the elder Stephanie offered, the similarity in tone prompting Lloyd to stretch his eyes wide before he turned away in disbelief. "Well, every episode of Quantum Leap I ever watched told me never to explain everything that was going to happen so I'll just do what I can to give you the skinny. Suffice it to say, after we got back from Hashmalamum we got ourselves back to fighting the good fight, just like you guys are now. And we kept on fighting, month after month, big nasty after big nasty while staying in the shadows just like Bruce and Waller always wanted."

"Until?" asked Kara, her expression seemingly caught between mild amusement and slight concern as she observed her lover returning to his senses.

There was a hint of a moment when the elder Stephanie regarded Kara with the slightest notes of caution before offering the young warrior a cheerless smirk. "Well, that's the thing. Just like Gotham was once the place where every psycho with a themed neurosis chose to hang their hat, the Earth became the spot that every despot and galactic conqueror wanted to employ as their launching pad. And, as much as we kept on fighting, the surrounding powers that be started to recognize that having a place like that around may be doing more harm than good."

"Well, isn't that just delightfully cryptic!" Robin spat back, the possibility of her obvious dream both realized and denied offending her senses. "Why is Gotham a wasteland? Who did it? Why are you still here?" The silence that lingered after the one-sided interview was broken only by The Bat's stern glare, the pointed glance prompting the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns to inch her hands ever closer to her nose and forehead at the thought of getting thwacked once again.

"We got put on the chopping block, didn't we?" Lloyd eventually ventured, his voice crude but still contemplative. "You say you're gonna cut out the cancer or separate the bad sheep or however you want to put it and claim it all to be for the greater good."

"Except that it was for the greater good," The Bat hastily replied. "So then eventually came the time when the joint governments of Rann, Thangaar, New Apokolips, Qward, and Karbarra agreed that our home world no longer had a right to be part of the problem. Thus, with the mutual support of The Green Lantern Corps, the most prominent governing powers that be throughout the galaxies mandated that our home be turned into a planet for prisoners. At the low, low price of a minute supply of the Corps' resources and a doomed planet, the trillions of life forms outside were able to pick up a place where they could safely restrain the worst of their worst, a maintainable ecosystem capable of giving its criminals no way of escaping."

"And no way for the former residents to depart either," Kara pointed out, her familiar and righteous anger already set to bubbling. "Or were the people of Earth even given so much as an opportunity to have a say in the matter?"

The Bat once again met Kara's sharp attitude with a calm and even air. "You're acting as if the Earth still had enough people on it to cast a meaningful vote," she then dolefully replied. "By the time the decision came down, all the failed invasions and catastrophic battles had cut our population down to the barest fraction of what it once was. In fact, since the transfers were completed about four years ago, the last three people on this planet to actually come from there are now Lloyd, me and 'Little Me' here."

"_Little _Me?" Robin parroted back, the Green Lantern screwing up her face as she did so. Seeing that her overt display failed to draw a significant reaction from her older self, the fair-haired Gothamite quickly shook her head to and fro and returned herself to an emotional square one. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. So what happened that was so bad that this little mud ball ended up on the condemned list? Or, if that's breaking the Doc Brown rule, why is 'Big Me' still here? I mean, did we really end up on so many peoples' shit lists that we got assigned here?"

The Bat couldn't help herself. Maybe it was the sudden arrival of sociable company or perhaps the sheer oddness of the situation but she couldn't help but laugh. It was hardly a full-throated roar or a tumultuous wave of chuckles but it scratched at a long-standing scab along her lungs with a torturous satisfaction. She knew it would arouse sadness and sympathy from the three youths clustered around her (Lord knows she would have felt the same if she had been in their shoes) but the fact remained that the pain still sometimes got to her and she was getting too old to deny that it wouldn't again.

"Oh. Oh, Lord," she said through a hiccup, her right hand fluttering to cross in front of her eyes should any tears have managed to fall. "Okay, first question's first," she eventually declared. "As everybody guessed, we finally stumbled onto something that we couldn't beat. Somebody who had sunk in far enough to get behind the backs of the heroes in order to deliver the killing blow before they even knew it was happening. This was someone who was defined by loss despite giving more than anyone over the course of the long fight, the person who ultimately decided that a life spent alone and away from everything that could help or hurt them was something more valuable than the lives of everyone else."

"And that was the creature that attacked us after we took down the criminals?" Lloyd asked unnecessarily as he recalled the words of the masked warrior. _Destruction was a work of art and humanity was nothing more than a canvas._

"The Afflicted," The Bat replied while crossing her slender arms across her chest. "But bear in mind that isn't the reason why The Corps placed the force barrier around the planet's lower atmosphere. That's only a measure to keep the convicted criminals from making any attempt to get away. In fact, the only one I truly look over is the only other person is probably the only one besides me that came here and stayed here of their own free will. They wanted to be left alone after everything they suffered, both real and imaginary."

"You think that this 'Afflicted' could break through the defensive measures?" Kara naturally inquired.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind," answered The Bat, her tone almost matter-of-fact in manner. "On the other hand, I also know that The Afflicted has no desire to escape. That's why everything else outside of here was able to get away with merely leaving the Earth alone instead of employing Lord knows how much resources to eliminate the most powerful warrior in history. The Afflicted remains here of its own free will and I'm just here to make sure that it stays that way."

"Well, I suppose that's a noble ambition," Lloyd broke in, his West London drawl slipping from his lips. The pointed use of the brogue was a distinctive clue that he had already unraveled more of the mystery than The Bat would have liked. "I suppose the next question on our list you'd like to handle is just what would drive the person under that mask to do whatever its doing?"

The elder of the Stephanie Browns held Lloyd's gaze for a split-second longer than what was asked for. "Well, there are psychologists and historians that have paid off their student loans trying to answer that question. Still, if you were to ask me, I think that the real crux point was when you shuffled off this mortal coil."

* * *

_Themyscira_

The motley crew of eight and sixty continued to traverse the flatland before them at a fast but consistent pace. These blackened plains, one fertile with dappled with ever-blooming honeysuckle and jasmine passed down from no less than gods had long been slaughtered by eons of war and the training that came with such nasty affairs. Any crowing of birds or roaring of the land-locked predators were left to linger in memory, the sole present sounds stemming from the grunts and grumbles of the horde as they came to a stop at Zod's behest, the old Kryptonian hovering several feet above the wasteland as he observed his modest militia.

"I like the lands here. Good for running and observing prey from afar like the hills of Traft'anson," snorted a young Karbarran, his frazzled coat a mixture of browns and blacks passed down through his misbegotten heritage. "We were forced to read of this planet's history when we were cubs but I paid much attention to stories of this island and the wonders it was supposed to hold."

"Oh, make no mistakes, animal," added the Raanian nobleman that had been so furtive towards the idea of putting an end to The Afflicted before Zod had made his presence felt. "This was once the home to humanoids of great beauty, some of which were considered worthy enough to mingle with our grandest bloodlines were we so inclined to do so. However, much like any civilized thing to crawl forth from you violent filth, it was forced to remain separate from the rest of society for fear that it would be tarnished by lesser creatures."

"Bah, that's not what we filth heard!" the Karbarran snarled back, his black nose furrowing and the surrounding hairs standing on edge exacerbating his anger. "And don't be so quick to talk! You share the same prison that I do but if you want to change that. . ."

A flash of black and silver cut between the potential brawl as Dru-Zod brought the unrelenting glare of his crimson eyes upon both antagonists. "We are not here for a history lesson or a debate," the former general pointed out, his years of solitude and imprisonment giving him a sense of patience that he didn't think to bother gaining during his prime. "Still, if the both of you are so interested, Themyscira was more known as a home of great warriors, every one of which was slaughtered by the very creature that all of you were so enthusiastic to face."

"Bah, but they are mere bags of flesh, no matter how strong or pretty they were!" the Karbarran rumbled back, his indirect defiance startling many of the monsters and murderers around them. "I am an ursaroid! My jaws would crush the bones and tear into the flesh of such weaklings and their blood would slip down my throat like wine."

Perhaps the Karbarran's attempts to embolden his actions were enough to shackle his sensitive ears but Zod was more than quick enough to spring away from the carnage to come. The blur of black and gold tore into the bear-like criminal with the ease that the finest of Kandorian blades would slice through the smoky air of the forge that gave it birth, the large body separated into two, even halves with an explosion of blood and gore that cast the dozen or so criminals around it aside. Its opening message now firmly sent, the mighty architect of the prospective bedlam slowly soared upwards in a graceful arc before the blood-stained travels soon met by a wave of scarlet energy that was inches away before The Afflicted finally chose to push the explosion of solar heat away with a luminous explosion that emerged from its right gauntlet.

"Do not just stand there and gawk!" Zod somehow managed to roar over the solar cacophony that was spurting from his eyes. "Follow the plan like you were ordered! Those of you who can reach the sky must bring down this beast so that we can employ the full of our forces!"

The combination of their leader's determination and the collective hunger for mortality spurred the dozens of prisoners into action, their efforts ranging from mildly efficient to ridiculously ineffectual. The combined, long-distance efforts of a Qwardian rogue and a specter-like Spherisid presented the best results out of the lot, the conjoined blast of energy produced by the alien entities pushing against The Afflicted's defenses to the point where Zod's waning efforts were given a hint of relief as his solar-charged exploits were pushed further and further away from their target. The Rannians and Thangaarians that could take to the sky did so as well, the braver of the lot battering away at their foe with war clubs and axes while those who could blasted away with a variety of different energy weapons crafted via the planet's limited resources. A handful were caught in the inevitable crossfire but the plan had succeeded in producing the desired result, the continual onslaught keeping their blindingly fast foe restrained and possibly opening up the opportunity to bring down the airborne powerhouse.

Then, as Zod had anticipated, The Afflicted chose to start trying.

The flash of the silver katana provided the first sign that the next part of his plan had to be placed into motion as the supernatural properties of the _Kiku-ichimonji_ sent his attack careening into a half-dozen of his airborne forces. Watching as The Afflicted spent a fraction of a second destroying whatever bludgeoning devices that hadn't been rendered useless by its unnecessary armor, the old warrior continued to wait for an opening as the unbreakable blade was turned to the task of effortlessly slicing through flesh, feather, and bone. A pallid-skinned half-Czarnian who had leapt to the sky in an attempt to snare the predator was effortlessly skewered, the mystic blade easily cleaving its way through flesh that could have absorbed the impact of 200 pounds of TNT without so much as a scar.

Continuing to look on, the longtime denizen of the Phantom Zone took sincere stock as the ruler of the ruined fields retrieved its blade while simultaneously appearing at the back of two more of his airborne supporters. The sickening _crunch _that rang through the air as The Afflicted slammed the skulls of the Rannian and Thangaarian together rattled through Zod's ears as he hurtled himself forward at the sight of the minute offering. Bringing his aged hands together, he struck the small of his opponent's back with a double-ax handle that held a good portion of the power he had left at his disposal. Thanking Rao as the precision and force of the blow was enough to send his armored foe hurtling to the ground, he continued to count his blessings even while ordering the criminals that remained to swarm their momentarily downed opponent. Desperate seconds passed as The Afflicted quickly became surrounded by its dozens of foes, its mighty limbs restrained by claws, fangs, hands, and even thoughts centered around a furious quest for freedom and redemption.

Zod realized that there was some nobility to be found within the violence below but he had grown far too old to try and seek it out. Instead, just as he had so callously done before, the grizzled veteran continued to hang about in the respective periphery as he awaited the inevitable. Dead as the earth below was, it still possessed enough force for the soldier to register when the ground began to tremble from the stress of the accumulated power. The vibrations soon pushed their way outward as the god below almost casually threw off the 224 tons of combined physical and psychical force being set upon with a mighty clockwise spin. The black-and-gold garbed figure continued to turn, faster and faster, and it was only a moment until the criminals turned soldiers were thrown aside by the humanoid whirlwind. Some were granted a merciful end as The Afflicted retrieved the _Kiku-ichimonji _and tore into them while others were left to either crash harshly to the hard dirt or wait to be burned or skewered depending upon the wishes of their executioner.

"Idiots! Do you think you're the first ones who thought they could throw me off this mountain of bones?" The Afflicted roared while stomping harshly on the already-broken neck of the Qwardian that had previously given it a flicker of trouble. "I know you were warned not to come here by The Corps so why didn't you just leave me alone!"

A bitter note of contempt ran through Zod's thoughts, the first unexpected response he honestly had to the hasty carnage around him. However, even as the number of his forces dwindled down to less than a third of their original number, a fifth, a tenth, he remained where he was. Waiting. Waiting. . . Waiting. . .

"Every one of you is just another reminder of how everything went wrong," The Afflicted mumbled so softly that even Zod had a hard time catching it. "And all I wanted was a chance to silence it all, to just stay away from the fights that other people always insisted that I should be in! I never _asked _for any of this. . ."

Another flash of crimson and The Afflicted was smashed hard into the ground, the bone-jarring impact severing another small fraction of the mask The Black Dog had scraped into during the previous battle. However, this time there was no onslaught of criminals and murderers to try and attempt to pick at the bones of the fallen enemy so it only took an instant for the dark champion to leap back to their feet. The remains of the face protector did manage to keep much of The Afflicted's reaction under wraps but a simple judgment of the wicked snarl on those pale lips allowed Zod to develop a good impression of what lay behind the rest of it as he brought himself to ground level.

"It shames me to say that I expected a great deal more from you," Zod said brusquely, his wrinkled brow crumpled even tighter by his consternation. "However misguided your initial attempt for freedom may have been, at least there was some nobility to be found within it. This choice to dwell among the refuse is a disgrace to your honorable name."

The sharper sneer that followed was punctuated by a growl as The Afflicted surged forward in the blink of an eye and Zod, slowed by decades of imprisonment and the aging that came with it, could do little more than keep a good idea of what was going on around him. Swerving sharply to his right, the old Kryptonian let out a pained grumble as the swipe of the _Kiku-ichimonji _managed to graze the armor around his torso. The attack barely qualified as a proper hit but the combination of an unbreakable blade and the unparalleled strength behind it was more than enough to dig several inches deep into the aged, Kryptonian-made metal alloy. It wasn't enough to draw blood but the flying kick that followed served to stain the black boots of The Afflicted with the bright, internal bleeding sent flooding through Zod's trachea as a shattered rib punctured his left lung.

"_You're _preaching to me about how I spend my time of rest?" The Afflicted shot back while holding the blood-soaked blade at the ready. "The disgrace of his people who rested in the lap of luxury while the civilization he was ordained to protect crumbled in front of his very eyes?" A flurry of blackened grit rose from the scraping of the warrior's armored boots as The Afflicted hustled forward. The flood would soon escalate into an eruption as Zod forced down his bloodthirsty adversary with a sweeping, downward smash, the strident impact of bone striking the ground with such force that it sent a tremor through the throng of corpses already lining the surroundings. The slight quaver only heightened as The Accursed was forced down again by a harsh, double-footed stomp that forced the sword wielder's lower back and right wrist to endure another jarring amount of strain.

"Asks the fallen hero who came to rule over nothing," Zod shot back in retort while wisely kicking the _Kiku-ichimonji _well away from the grasp of its wielder. "All your high-minded drabble about what you said you wouldn't be and then you willingly become a monstrosity beyond anyone's worst nightmares," he went on while continuing to force The Accursed to lie prostrate with continued kicks and stomps. Of course, it didn't require his decades of experience to recognize that it was only a matter of time before The Afflicted regained their bearings. Sticking to his plan despite his present physical satisfaction, Zod first crushed the heel of his right boot against his foe's left elbow before spinning to aim a punt kick with the opposite foot that landed squarely against his foe's exposed jaw. Shards of the black-and-golden mask twinkled throughout the battleground as The Afflicted was thrown violently against the ground by the impact and it was only the stringent clemency of a flock of aged oak trees that helped bring the creature's destructive tumbling to an end.

Only a fraction of a second passed before The Afflicted rose up from the wreckage. Tiring of the impedance, the warrior finally ripped off the portion of the shroud that remained to reveal the face of the most powerful combatant this dead but noteworthy world had held in its employ.

"Don't speak to me of others' nightmares," hissed Kara Zor-el as she tossed her physical trappings aside. "I was forced to awaken and face my horrors time and time again so everything else could try to live their dreams. Even when I try to find peace through sleep and serenity, this world forced me to stand up, time and again, just so they didn't have to clean up their own mistakes!"

A haze of silver mist seemed to slither from the ground before coalescing between the clenched fists of Zor-el's greatest and most destructive creation. Widening her eyes a fraction more as she regarded the product of her Praxian heritage with the affection one would hold for a fallen friend, she coursed the energy through her frame to empower her even further despite the one-sided battle that had taken place before. Her eyes pools of silver and crimson swirls, she turned back to face her sole remaining opponent with a glare of unabashed hatred.

"And you're no different, grandfather," Kara noted, her voice calm but cold. "You picked a fight that you never even had to begin. Still, since we're family, I'll humor you one, last time before I put you down."

* * *

"No! NO!" screeched the Kara Zor-el that had been brought to a world that a part of her had delivered to ruination. "I wouldn't do something like that! I. . . I've been working on my anger! I've. . . I've been trying."

The Bat ceased the half-Kryptonian's mumbling by grasping Kara firmly by the shoulder, the voluntary warden looking surprised that she was capable of such a merciful gesture. "I'm not saying that you did, Kare Bear," the elder of the two Stephanies provided, the usage of the infantile nickname drawing a sad smile to the Green Lantern's lips. "I'm saying that you _will_. Just like you were supposed to kill your cousin the moment you set foot on this planet but yet you didn't do it until you had your own reason to do so."

Wisely stepping back from what was to come, The Bat offered no resistance as Lloyd swept forward to slide in front of his stunned lover while her younger self attempted to lay her low with a vicious scowl. The blind anger and loyalty touched an odd part of her heart and she found the twinge to be almost a necessity after the dismal confession.

"I'm afraid that you're going to have to be a bit more specific," The Black Dog began, his eyes on The Bat even while he had offered his right hand for Kara to grasp as tightly as she could. "Now you first made the meet and greet in order to ask for our help and you start off your pitch by saying that Kara's doomed the world and I'm responsible for letting that happen?"

The Bat rolled her eyes once again, her nostalgic loyalties taking a quick hit in the process. "Oh, don't get so melodramatic, Lloyd boy. It's not as simple as Kara finding out that her darling boy was gone so she just decided that everybody else needed to share her misery." Registering the calm demeanor of the British telepath, Stephanie took a moment to roll her tired neck about her shoulders in order to stretch out the physical kinks and the psychological bothers that came with them. "Like I said before, we spent a long time fighting a good fight. We may have had our fair share of losses and casualties but we kept moving. We stayed who we wanted to be."

"And I sense a galactic-sized 'but' heading our way down Runway 4," the younger Stephanie said sourly, her tone peevish though her other facial expressions clearly demonstrated the determination that her older counterpart was already displaying without any such efforts to summon it.

Intrigued by the effort, The Bat moved on. "Well, we kept on fighting until the inevitable moment when Lloyd had reached his limits. Granted, he held on a hell of a lot longer than anybody expected him to but the fact remained that a human just wasn't meant to contain the full powers of a greater demon. He wasted away in front of our eyes but we kept on looking after him even when he shooed us away and claimed that we had better work to do. It was a heavy blow, of course, but the one person it hit the most just happened to be the one who couldn't see it coming."

"Me," Kara whispered, the stern-eyed warrior wavering only by a fraction. "No. This version of me."

The elder of the Stephanies offered a confirming nod while the younger one drifted over to lightly tap on her friend's shoulder. "Got it in one," The Bat replied while Kara and Lloyd gave Robin a grateful look. "When it all went down, Kara was off on Apokolips taking on Darkseid as he tried to marshal his forces for a major invasion. I know she didn't want the assignment but Donna was pretty insistent and I think Kara felt that Commander Crag was always kind of her responsibility. Still, when we heard that she was coming back to Gotham, we knew that she'd take the news hard for her own reasons. This was her husband, after all."

"Husband?" Lloyd spat out, the degree of shock in his voice making him feel a wee bit ashamed.

The Bat responded with a sheepish but gamely grin, a look that still somehow appeared to be foreign on her otherwise hardened features. "Oops. I just poured soy sauce on the flux capacitor," she quipped, her old habits momentarily getting the better of her before she shook her head to clear it. "Kara went into seclusion to grieve while the rest of us continued on our merry way. Naturally, it was a little bit harder without our two biggest guns but we had learned to hold our own under most circumstances."

Lloyd nodded, the young Brit already putting the straightforward puzzle together. "But what about the less likely bits?'

The elder Stephanie tilted her head to one side before slowly shutting her eyes. Opening them once again at the silent behest of her younger counterpart, the fourth and final holder of the Robin mantle continued her tale.

"The weeks rolled on and, eventually, we ran into some trouble that wasn't so easy to fix. Wally was the first one to go down but Bruce and Noah were quick to follow. Needing something that could draw people into the fight, I donned the mantle of The Bat to try and pick up the pieces and the first place I went to start was to speak with a good woman who had already been through enough already. My anger got the better of me and I lashed out at Kara with everything I could have said to her. I told her that she should have taken more responsibility for just standing by and letting the guys do the fighting for her. I told her that Bruce and Lloyd would have never behaved like she did just because they lost someone they loved."

Lloyd took a deep breath while the younger Stephanie involuntarily offered a sympathetic hiss of breath. Kara shut her eyes tight, her pride as a warrior keeping her from wrapping her arms around her lover's back.

The Bat took in these reactions and countered with a sour grin. "Yeah, I guess there was a reason why you guys always made me go play outside when it was negotiating time. Anyway, by the time I came to Kara was long gone. I tried to find her, of course, but she had long figured out how to stay out of everyone's sight. It wasn't until a couple weeks later when I heard the news coming down the pike that Superman had managed to track her down inside the ruins of his old fortress. I was occupied with Corps matters at the time so I didn't hear about both pieces of Kal-El's body being dropped into the Potomac from about 20,000 feet up until they showed the replay on the news."

"Oh, no," Kara mumbled while clenching her eyes. Whether the sorrow was from the revelation or the recognition that such a thing was possible was a question that could only be answered fully by her.

"Oh, yeah," The Bat went on, the Green Lantern unrelenting with the weaving of the morbid tale. "So it was only natural that the rest of us capes, geeks, and weirdoes banded together to try and nip the problem in the bud. I mean, this was hardly the first time that one of us had lost track of who we were or that a big name like Supes ended up dead. The only differences this time is that Superman never came back and that we had never come across anything like Kara had become."

"Whoa! Hold on! Back up the turnip truck!" the younger Stephanie exclaimed, her short, quick steps enabling her to scoot past Lloyd and slide in front of her elder counterpart. "Okay, now I know that Kara can be one tough cookie but. . . you're telling me she took down _everybody_? I mean, Doctor Fate, Wonder Woman, all of Earth's Green Lanterns?"

"Well, it might have been different if this was some universally accepted big nasty like Darkseid or Doomsday," The Bat confessed. "But this was Kara! Somebody who had spent their entire life learning how to overcome her weaknesses because we kept convincing her that she needed to in order to make up for whatever she did in the past! She was being asked to train to take on threats that nobody else would be able to handle and ended up getting advice on that front from a greater demon with a couple eons worth of experience."

The caped crusader stopped both herself and the vigilant explanation she was providing. She may never have been the detective or master of interpretation that her predecessor was but Stephanie had come to know enough about her ways and manners to recognize the fine line between a plea and an excuse. Letting out a sigh to buffer the annoyance of her transgression, she ran a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair and sought to start again.

"With her husband's death there was no one left who could keep up with Kara. Add that to the fact that the first thing she made certain of was to eliminate any training data that Bruce and Noah had collected on her and you ended up with the kind of threat that people only knew how to solve through strength in numbers. She made sure to go after the Titans first and all records of that fight said it was over in a matter of minutes. That, of course, managed to get the grownups in the JLA and JSA all gung-ho and ready for blood and Kara used that to her advantage as well. She spent months picking off heroes when they were at their weakest, attacking only when either individual targets were vulnerable or when she could pick off a team before anybody could rush in to lend a hand."

Lloyd, noticing that the younger Stephanie looked to be shell-shocked by the truth, gently nudged his adopted little sister. "And you could never catch up with her?" he asked, the sad grimace that this new familiarity offered in response providing all the motivation The Black Dog needed to swallow his trepidation and continue on. "So now we're looking at a holocaust-level event, to borrow another's terms. Upon realizing that some of their own were in danger, why wouldn't entities like The Green Lantern Corps or the Thangaarian Police Force play a more direct role in stopping the threat?"

"Risk analysis," The Bat replied, a wave of bitterness passing over her exposed countenance. "As you might have guessed by now, Kara's entire intent was that she wanted to be left alone. So, seeing as how a good chunk of humanity had already been wiped out in the preceding battles, it was agreed that The Afflicted should receive her wish. Those who were willing to leave were relocated to Fortuna or Rann or wherever else there was room for people willing to work for the good of a still-thriving global community. Hell, even a lot of the crime fighters took up the offer, including Lian and Roy, but a good chunk of the remaining heroes and a slighter percentage of the rest chose to stay here in an attempt to try and get some good out of a hopelessly lost cause."

The Black Dog nodded, the British half-demon finding that he could do little else. "And that's when the Earth became a prison planet?"

The Bat seemed to embrace her bitter scowl while shaking her head once again. "No. They were smart enough to wait for Kara to get rid of everybody else. Then, with their consciences as clear as they needed to be, they finally put the hammer down. Our home became the haven for monsters that were deemed to be irredeemable or too dangerous for others to deal with. About two dozen members of The Green Lantern Corps are trusted to maintain the barrier around us, conduct the flow of criminals through the safeguards, and continue to look after the structural integrity of Earth's core to make certain that their little resource stays the way it should be."

"And that's all?" Robin nearly howled. "What about food and water? I mean, I know they're probably murderers and monsters but you're telling me that these creatures were just dropped off to die?"

The Bat merely shrugged her shoulders. "Those who want to live find a way to get food. There are a handful of communities like London and here in Gotham where people have learned to grow their own food and I try my best to watch over them. Others make their way by hunting the handfuls of wild animals that are left for getting. Of course, we get the occasional yearning for intergalactic cannibalism but we've found that those kinds of instances have a tendency of weeding themselves out when a good percentage of those around you is capable of wholesale slaughter."

The smartly sadistic smile that followed drew an array of different responses from The Bat's audience ranging from Lloyd's upraised eyebrows to Kara's light shudder to Stephanie's fish-like agape jaw.

"And you chose to stay behind?" asked Robin, her inquiry obviously more prepared for the sake of elaboration than confirmation.

"It's my duty as the last of Earth's Green Lanterns," The Bat answered simply, her face set and her slim arms akimbo.

"And you want to make up for the guilt you feel from thinking that you've let down the home you pledged to protect."

An odd fondness seemed to sweep over The Bat's eyes as she regarded her former commanding officer.

"You always did know me best, Lloyd Boy."

* * *

Dru-Zod could feel the life being drained from him with every attack that bulled through his defenses, the power behind his granddaughter's fist taxing his bones and withering his aged might to the point that it was only through the old man's will that he was still able to stand. He had tottered his way into the woman's web and there was no hope for a safe withdrawal now, the tactical blitzkrieg cast by The Afflicted draining him of his resources while Kara merely skimmed off the force she required to make it happen. Her flesh was unmarred, her armor scuffed but barely fractured save for the mask, and the certainty rang through her face with all the clarity of the bells that had hung over the chapel of Daath-orel where he had first introduced his son to the world he would inherit.

And, no, the irony of his act of association was not lost upon General Zod.

"I suppose I should congratulate you," he confessed, the trembling fingers of his left hand dabbing at the blood that had pooled around his smashed lower lip. "You managed to accomplish the mission I had set out for you to do."

The old Kryptonian felt the kick to his chest with all the senses left to him, the bizarre sensation of his right aorta collapsing from the impact blinding him to how the released blood launched through his trachea before emerging from his open mouth in convulsive spurts. Dimly recognizing that he had fallen to his knees, the vital fluids that covered his eyes momentarily blinded him from the sight of Kara looming over him, an elegant reaper of unparalleled success.

"Well, I suppose you could take heart that at least one member of The House of El proved to be useful for something," Zod heard Kara note with a sardonic sneer before leaning the toe of her right boot against his chin. It was the move that the old man was looking for and he put every bit of strength he had left to making certain he hit his mark. Dragging his far more powerful adversary down by her exposed limb, he locked on what Earthlings would have referred to as an Ogoplata-style crossface, his powerful legs wrapped around Kara's left arm and his large hands engulfing The Afflicted's chin and lower jaw.

"NOW!" he bellowed, his command already warbled by the struggle that Kara put up in an attempt to escape. "MOVE IN NOW!"

_KREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_

The explosion of sound shattered Zod's eardrums within a fraction of a second and a massive aneurysm was quick to follow, the utter assault on his hypersensitive awareness doing more damage than an arsenal of Kryptonite-laced daggers. Needless to say, it took every bit of his eleven decades of training and discipline to continue to hold his granddaughter down and it was only thanks to the piercingly sharp sonic wave that she was weak enough for him to accomplish it. The cord-like muscles in his neck already stretched to the limit, he could barely look up to focus his blurred sights on his noisy benefactor, the ace in the hole that had been hidden behind the 24 tons of bone, flesh, and sinew that now lay on the blood-soaked battlefield. He drew determination from the sky-blue eyes passed down by the girl's father even as the keening cry, the gift of her mother, slowly began to peel the very flesh off his bones.

Every bit of what had brought him to this moment told him to keep holding on. It was the only thing he had ever needed to do. It was a final testament to not just his own personal pride but to the honor and misery and triumph and bloodshed inherited and enhanced upon by twenty generations of Kryptonians. He could not allow this stripling, a half-blood at that, to continue to journey on and add footnotes to his tale.

Not that he had any say in the matter, he came to realize as Kara finally threw him off of her back and shoulders. Her face was a mask of crimson but the strength she displayed upon grasping him by the neck was like nothing he had ever felt before. It would be the last thing he felt as Krypton's final survivor broke the body of her grandfather down to the most minute of molecules with a concentrated burst of solar and eldritch energy, a gesture that The Afflicted thought to be a fitting tribute for one who had inflicted such nightmares upon her simply because of her mingled blood and genes. No longer encumbered by her burden, Kara's body was surrounded in an infinitesimal flash that signaled the return of the _Kiku-ichimonji _to its owner, the katana little more than a blur of black-and-silver as it effortlessly deflected the waves of sonic energy still streaming from the throat of her lone, remaining foe. Redirecting her faculties while drawing away the harmful noise, The Afflicted returned to full health in a matter of seconds, the tears along her forehead sealing up as she looked straight ahead at the offending pest.

"Naughty little lady," Kara whispered beneath the sonics as she surged forward and swiped the back of her left hand across the woman's face. The sound of cracked bone echoed through the dying noise as the raven-haired woman skidded against the dirt, her ungainly travels proceeding at a dangerous speed before the corpse of one of her colleagues finally stopped her. "That's no way to be treating the woman who changed your diapers."

Working with what little muscle control she had remaining on the left side of her face, Zod's collaborator managed to hock out a globule of blood that landed an inch shy of The Afflicted's boot. "You aren't Kara Zor-el anymore! You're not my godmother! You're nothing more than a monster!"

The Afflicted grimaced at the exclamations, if not for taking any offense than for enduring the annoyance of having to listen to it in the first place. "I'm afraid you're wrong, little Cecilia. If anything else, the woman who worked so hard to keep the nasty things away from you was the fake."

Knowing that the teen was no longer a threat, Kara extended her arms and presented her palms as if she were presenting herself to the woman who she had known from her very first breath. "This is who everyone wanted me to be! Your mother and father, all your adopted family, and the people who were more than happy to keep taking and taking until we had nothing left to give but our souls? _This _is what they left behind after everything had been stolen! I am the proof that there is no purpose of trying to draw something good from the muck because the only way any civilized creature knows how to do that is by pilfering it from someone else!"

The products of Cecilia's parentage jumbled once again. So badly did the long-legged songstress wish to appear hard and inscrutable and to hide her heart but the other half of her recognized the buried agony and that made her compassion and sympathy lurch her forward. "You know that's not true, Kara! My mother! Uncle Roy! Even Stephanie! They would have never done anything to hurt you!"

Not even a breath could escape from Cecilia's lips before Kara had ensnared her by the throat.

"And you include yourself in that number, sweetie? A person who convinced my own grandfather out of his life of solitude just so you would be able to take vengeance? Is that the kind of person I should have kept stretching my heart out for?"

The pain had already become too much for the girl who had been forced to grow up too fast. The lack of oxygen and the pain of her broken bones and shredded skin became too much to bear and she fell into unconsciousness. Of course, it wasn't as if Kara would have any difficulty in carrying the limp weight in her left hand, her right hand momentarily occupied with returning her blade to the scabbard strapped to her back.

"I would have given you decades to figure this one out, my goddaughter. Now, the only mercy I can provide you is this."

The Afflicted snapped Cecilia's neck with a mere tensing of her hand, her merciful grip remaining just tight enough to hold the human aloft as the rest of her life slipped from her.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, it appears that my 1,000th review is neatly coinciding with my near arrival at the 1,000,000 word mark as far as this story is concerned. I'll leave it to you guys to come up for creatively themed reasons as to how this happened when I had originally planned to meet that mark at somewhere around Issue #185.

Still, all potential self-ridicule aside, I would like to thank everyone who continues to take the time to drop a kind word about this work I do. I'll admit that this creative undertaking is becoming less of an obsession for me as it used to be but I'll keep trying my best to crank these puppies out with the time and quality I hope you've come to expect. And for those of you who are still wondering what the hell is going on right now. . . well. . . just wait until I set the table a little bit more. It is a writer's right to occasionally torture not only the characters in his sandbox but also the people that watch the toys play around.

(insert evil laughter here)

(insert next issue preview below here)

* * *

_Issue #122 Preview_

With the motivations of The Afflicted revealed, our four heroes now set to the task of succeeding where billions have failed. But what is The Bat's plan? How will the Kara we know and love cope with the possibility that her quest to overcome her anger may be destined to fail? And just who happens to be the lonely soul that serves as The Afflicted's sole source of company? Tune in after a period between 10 to 15 days to find out in the next, potentially enthralling installment of _The Misfits_: Blessed Be This Holy Severance. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	122. Blessed Be This Holy Severance

Issue #122

Blessed Be This Holy Severance

_The Batcave_

The fairly odd quartet made their way over the crags and through the rubble festooned along the catacombs, the light looming from Robin's ring lighting the dismal way throughout. Her vanguard positioning enabled the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns to have the first shot at examining the ruins of a place that she had imagined in her mind on so many occasions throughout her youth and adolescence, times when she still dreamt of being a hero rather than either pretending to be one or making up for her mistakes. Of course, she had hardly expected a collection of memorabilia to ever take such a prominent standing on the western edge of the caverns but the sight of the ruination that remained there in its place was that much more astounding. A half-dozen or so trick umbrellas lined the ground in various states of disrepair and the once-full cabinet of weapons standing next to the refuse were all but emptied. The familiar fluttering of leathery wings was absent as well, the signs of life within the dark but usually lively denizens now providing no greater role than an echo.

"Interesting," Stephanie heard Lloyd murmur, the indistinct reply already setting her suspicion-laced blood to boil. It only continued to froth as neither of her partners had any more to say and finally rose to the back of her throat as her elder counterpart made her way ahead with broad and deliberate strides.

"What the hell is this?" Robin finally barked out, the little one's fury met with no surprise by her audience of three. "Why is it like this?"

The Bat offered back a wry smile. "I like to think of it as an overdramatic reminder," she replied while ambling over to the aged and partly rusty remains of Noah's old chair. She motioned towards the monitors to her right as she took a seat, the makeshift warden casually settling in as she allowed the youngsters another opportunity to fully take in the hollowed out VDT's with its litany of cracks and fractures. "It's been a long time since I've needed food or sleep and that makes things a little simpler when trying to go for a more Spartan lifestyle," she explained while leaning back against the nonexistent backrest. "Besides, it also provides a good reminder of what can still be done."

"Which is?" Kara couldn't help but ask with a whisper, her sharp eyes hard at work taking in every millimeter of the familiar environs.

"That all this could be saved," The Bat soberly replied, the dark crusader leaning forward so her elbows could rest on top of her knees. "All I have to do is get back the one thing that can bring down Kara without taking out the planet in the process."

"Well, forgive me if you make it sound a mite too simple," The Black Dog shrewdly countered while ambling away from the three ladies. "Still, given the way you managed to word your explanation, I'm hypothesizin' that you've already found said ways and means?"

The Bat's toothy grin may have been a shade of its former self but it still managed to stand firm.

"Don't sell my ideas short, Puppy," The Bat warned, her urge to leap onto the chair in the midst of her enthusiasm stifled by twenty years worth of failures. "I still believe that my colleagues in the Corps would want to restore this place back to the way it was, if only to honor all the heroes and douche bags that served from here and to convince me to move on to a greener pasture. The real reason why the Corps agreed to side with the galactic governmental union was that the resources they would need to eliminate Kara were too high to risk! If we do the Corps' work for them then we gain their support! We have an opportunity to turn our home back to what it should be!"

"A rousing speech," Kara replied, the woman inching her way towards Lloyd as she was wont to do in times of others' troubles. "But that still doesn't explain what you want us to do. That little scrap from before provided some good proof that we wouldn't be able to match up with my older self unless we risked causing a cataclysm in the process."

The hungry smirk returned to The Bat's deceptively youthful countenance as she waved her right ring finger in front of her eyes. "Already one step ahead of you there as well, Milady Kara," she proclaimed, her smirk already on the edge of annoying. "Which would technically put me just about even with The Afflicted but the case remains that I've got a way to get to the one weapon that would have the power to punch through her defenses."

The Black Dog took in the drama with a sigh, his thoughts already aligned with his suddenly older adopted sister even as his eyes locked on the hilt and scabbard neatly positioned at the corner of his left eye. "The _Mugalshir_," he realized. "Don't know how close you were watchin', mate, but your Akira didn't seem to have any problems handling my sab. . .er. . . putting up adequate. . . defenses."

"Very smooth, little brother," The Bat said coolly even while her younger counterpart tried in vain to stifle her giggling. "And, as you've already guessed, I'm not talking about the gleaming, silver blade next to that undersized hand of yours. I'm referring to the blade owned by the Lloyd that I came to know, the one that he spent the last seven years of his life working on until it was strong enough to give a good friend of ours an honest shot at beating The Afflicted even when he himself was completely outgunned."

While Lloyd and the younger Stephanie were pondering over whether they should ask for details, the most subdued member of the trio was putting her underrated deductive abilities to work. The decades spent within the cramped, cryogenic chamber had left her with little love for enclosed areas but she had come to have affection for these catacombs and had summarily learned how to quickly pore over every detail that she could find within it. The destruction was quite thorough and was a stressful sight to behold but there was some elements of organization to be found if you chose to look for it. She cast her eyes to where Bruce had kept his most affectionately tended memories, her crystalline, blue eyes taking in what was old and what would eventually be new.

"So where is the blade now?" asked Kara while trying to cast the last hints of suspicion out of her eyes. "And why is it so important that we're here?"

Just as the former Supergirl had expected, the nostalgic glimmers of merriment faded from The Bat's countenance. "Because, for some strange reason, the last, close shave that The Afflicted went through left her feeling a little cautious. She took away the _Mugalshir_ and hid it away within the Earth's core, specifically in one of the old prisons that your cousin had fashioned for Doomsday. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem but she's managed to match me in terms of magic and the only way we can open it otherwise is by providing the retinal scan of one Kara Zor-el."

"Okay, so now we finally get to it," Robin chimed in, the fair-haired Green Lantern shifting her eyes to and fro until she found what she was looking for. "So what? Are you just expecting for Evil Future Kare Bear to just stand around and let us borrow her toy?"

"Hardly," The Bat countered, her eyebrows slowly rising as her smirk flickered back to life. "That's where the two of you hop into the picture."

"Um. . . no!" Robin protested, her clenched fists locked on her hips. "I'm still seeing all the pretty little birdies from the last time she hit me! And besides, from what Lloyd told me, Broody Future Kara is not going to have any problem with killing me and if she kills me then wouldn't that mean that you get killed and. . . AH! Don't hit!"

Taking a moment to admire the unnecessary alarm of her younger counterpart, The Bat twisted her left wrist and the connecting hand held right in front of Robin's nose so that she was able to administer a kindly pat to the little nub of flesh and cartilage.

"I'm sure the two of you will find a way to hold on," the elder Stephanie replied, her right ring finger still on Robin's nose even while her eyes were on Lloyd. "And, just like I told you before, I'll take no offense if you just decide to call this a lost cause. Maybe you guys will be able to find a way to change things from your own avenues. On the other hand, I like to think that I have come to know the three of you pretty well."

The Bat turned on her heel and made her way to the stone stairwell, her pitch completed and her younger self just steps behind her and more than ready to bombard the masked warden with questions. This, in turn, left the young couple to share a cautious glance. Following his lover's silent order, Lloyd soaked in the sights that Kara had silently pointed out to him, his tired but still active mind quickly taking in what it needed. Of course, being someone who tried his best to be a courteous mate for the world's most powerful female, he wisely searched for extra credit within the rubble before Kara was ready to move on.

"_Is she really so willing to let us go that easily?"_

Lloyd shook himself away from the shards of moonlight to the southwest. _"She's telling the truth on that_," he replied through their shared, mental link. _"On the other hand, she's bankin' on the fact that we're not about to leave. Luv. . . are you really sure about this?"_

Kara shut her eyes tight.

"_I've got to know."_

* * *

_Themyscira - Three years, six months, and 13 days before the present time_

The varied supplies of spilled blood that littered the battlefield still hung heavy in Kara's nostrils as she calmly sat on The Plains of Ceres. Her feet were bare but her mind was burdened yet she knew that this portion of Bruce's training was designed to bring herself back to a psychological balance, the slight intonations flowing through her pale lips as what remained of the planet's forces of nature prepared to clear away the damages of the past. A lonely, southeastern-bearing gale attempted to waft through her hair but the hinders of her sweat and others' blood kept everything where it was.

_It always remains where it is_, Kara reminded herself, as she felt the oxygen flowing towards the tips of her toes. _Bruce was right again. The only thing you can do is try to keep things from getting worse._

She had learned to draw contentment where she once found dismay. She had made Themyscira her home in order to pay a proper homage for an advanced society that sat idly by as the rest of the world fell apart. As dark as her duties had become by then, she took a hint of satisfaction in making certain that she had saved the emissary of the Amazons for last. Her endeavor was anticipated and had cost her several weeks and a handful of near misses but the tasty bit of irony to be found at the end of her journey provided an invigorating round of poetry as she forced Wonder Woman to watch her existence crumble down around her.

She was the first person of this planet to use her, after all. Diana had plunked her down on this honeyed isle as the first step of a vain attempt to mold her into an Amazonian champion. Unlike the caring but forceful hands of the gods she followed, the bitch took no interest in tending to the rocks or lumps in the clay and Kara made certain that the champion would pay for her careless actions by ripping apart the very bits of her soul.

She honestly still had an inkling to spare the former junior partner of the raven-haired bitch when Cassandra attempted to claim vengeance but it didn't take long for The Afflicted to realize that her former friend was better off dying in the name of the mission. For years she had been Diana's unwitting emissary into a world that the great and powerful Wonder Woman wanted nothing of, the human face shielding a gnarled scab of immortals that valued themselves far too much. Remembering the second-hand treachery, she made certain to make the demise of the gods far more painful than the quick and merciful decapitation that she had provided for the former Wonder Girl.

Just like the Amazons that served them, Kara had employed the egos of the so-called gods to lay them low, projecting an image that the immortals would embrace with prideful pity and the belief that she could be defeated with a simple one-on-one encounter. And, one by one, she removed them from the field as well. Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Hephaestus, Hera and Zeus: each and every one of them creatures that considered themselves above the inevitability of death were now nothing more than mere names to be jotted down in an easily forgotten history book.

"Well, then that puts me in pretty good company, huh?"

The Afflicted did not bother to hide her aggravation, her tensed fingers briefly tearing through the dirt as she gathered her fists. Knowing that any means of centering herself would now be for naught, the fair-haired, half-Kryptonian hastily rose to her feet and plucked a steel-spaded shovel from where it had been wedged into the dry soil around her. The task in front of her was something that could be done in a fraction of a second but her respect for the past was much too strong for her to take the easy way out and she began to carefully uproot the blackened dirt one modest scoopful at a time, her slender arms never bulging over the course of her simple endeavors.

"Well, at least I've broken you from your procrastination," noted The Afflicted's seemingly eternal company. "On the other hand, I've still got to ask about your thoughts on this new situation. After all, it's not every day I get to talk to somebody who just murdered their own goddaughter."

Kara turned her blazing, crimson eyes at the meddlesome specter, the peerless warrior woman revealing the windows that accomplished the destruction of her harasser's physical body. Despite all of her power though, the ghostly form of Richard Grayson coolly regarded the open threat with all the emptiness it deserved. Though she hastily turned away from the sight of the first Earthling she had come to genuinely admire, her mind had no trouble at all presenting Kara with the sight of the acrobat and vigilante to near perfection. She didn't have to look in the proper direction to note the pristine state of Nightwing's blue and charcoal battle armor, the domino mask, and the jet-black hair that seemed to dance about his head whenever he fearlessly cast himself into the night. There was no way that she could ignore the presence or the memories that came with it but she had to try. Sweet Rao, she had to try.

"I genuinely regretted killing Cecilia," The Afflicted finally replied with a cold monotone as she continued her purposefully slow labors. "That was an act of mercy that I'll keep on my shoulders and do so proudly. As for you, you can hound me all you like but I'll still show no pity for somebody who had so many chances to get away from the fight. _You _stole the blade of my late husband and _you _tried to steal from his legacy just to try and give yourself a sliver of satisfaction."

"Ah, but I didn't 'steal' the blade though, did I?" Nightwing butted in. "Lloyd gave me the _Mugalshir _because he knew that I would put it to the use that he and The Condemner intended it for."

"Yes, and see where that got you?" Kara spat back, her eyes still away from Nightwing's ghastly gaze. "Now you're nothing more than a pointless apparition, some meaningless ghoul here to pointlessly remind me that I'll always have to keep fighting no matter what I do so you'll pardon me if I don't have any regrets of my actions towards you while you were still alive!"

Nightwing provided the proper gravitas that came with such a counterpoint before offsetting the fervor with the careless shrug of his shoulders that had earned him the attraction of many of his female peers. "Uh oh, I'm getting you back into dragging your feet, aren't I? Or your shovel, as the case may be."

Ever a gentleman, he allowed Kara the smidge of time she needed to step up her pace. "I've already told you that I'm not here because of anyone's regrets, Kara. I'm here because somebody needs to keep an eye on you."

Unable to help herself, Kara listlessly tossed a mound of sickly sediment through Nightwing's insubstantial torso. "I've had people keeping their eyes on me since the day I was born."

"For good reason, as we eventually discovered. . ."

"Well, what were you expecting, Richard?" Kara plaintively asked back while tossing the spade aside. "My father wanted me to do his dirty work in the war against his brother! My grandfather looked at me and saw nothing more than a tool to expand his own pathetic sphere of influence! Your people took me in as their grand champion to battle back the threats that they could never even begin to handle and what was my reward? Where was my morsel of happiness and contentment while everyone else got to gorge at the table that I helped keep safe?"

The careless veneer momentarily wore on Nightwing's imperturbable countenance as the ethereal entity crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't recall when either one of us chose to get into our line of work for the fame and fortune. We got into it because this was something that we knew was right!"

"Oh, that wasn't our job!" Kara snapped back while swooping down to fetch the fallen shovel. "We provided charity for people who were more than happy to take what they could receive so long as they didn't have to give anything back in return! Bruce, Cissie, Lloyd, Noah and Wally! They all gave their lives taking on struggles that they didn't have to take and how does the noisy majority respond? They just kept sitting on their hands and amusing themselves with their own psychoses!"

Kara took to the dirt with a vengeance now, the diamond-shaped blade forcing its way through its obstructions with unmatched strength and vigor.

"We protected the lives of humans who giddily sat idly by as those in poorer lands fought to survive! Creatures that entertained themselves with idiotic distractions while ignoring the tools and lessons that could make them a productive part of their own societies. These people were allowed to fester and stagnate and whine amidst their luxuries while the select few that truly did any good were offered up to the bladed wheels of fate and you come to me thinking that _you _were right?"

"I've heard this tale before, Kare Bear," Dick cautiously replied. "Not just from you but from everybody to The Joker to Lex Luthor to even Bruce."

"Yeah, well, the difference between them and me is that I was able to do what they couldn't."

Displaying the resolute ways that had once doomed the world and saved so many times more, The Afflicted completed the grave to her satisfaction. Dumping the well-maintained remains of her goddaughter into the aperture, she employed a fraction of her speed to fill the hole without sparing so much as a glance to her tormentor.

"Life was never meant to be fair to anyone, old friend," Kara finally added while wiping a stray bead of sweat from her forehead. "Just ask Naomi. . . if you ever manage to get back to her."

* * *

_Present day_

"Ya ever get the feeling that somebody is keeping something reeeeeeeeally important from you?"

Lloyd let out a derisive snort as he perused his copy of _Animal Farm_, his stout fingers drifting through the aged, brown pages. "You kiddin', Tweety? I get that feeling every time I sat down with Grayson to watch _Lost_," he replied while putting the paperback back into its assigned slot. "Never did quite rightly understand what the bloke saw in that show."

Noting the pointed silence, The Black Dog turned away from the distraction and swerved to find Stephanie as she stood at the center of the bedroom that he and Kara shared. Taking another look around his surroundings, he noted the dearth of tomes within the once-full shelves and the tattered remains of paintings and posters that had been placed there by mutual (and occasionally affectionate) consent. Carlton Cole's right leg and a hint of a football drew his attentions for a moment and a wrought album cover of _August and Everything After_ in the next before he took stock of the fractured wood floor and the burnt remains of what was obviously a luxuriant dose of red-and-black carpeting that was unfamiliar to his eyes. It was a half-intriguing, half-wicked visual cornucopia of what was and what might be to come and the Brit's usual yearning for taking in life as it came was preempted by a flurry of unanswered questions.

Of course, none of that was what the Stephanie that he had known and come to care for was pointing out to him. Finally shifting his hazel eyes toward the fractured remains of his bed, the half-demon noted the clean but brutal cleaving that started at the top of the cherry-oak headboard and ran straight on until it met the very heel of the divan.

A perfect, physical separation. Two exact halves.

"What a potentially nauseating display of life's poetry," Lloyd brusquely responded, his even steps quickly bringing him to where he could perching the heel of his Doc Marten-clad right foot on the right side of the bed. "Speakin' along those lines, how's your sordid little love triangle working out for ya?"

There was a brief hint of concern on Robin's face before she got into her part and displayed a playful sneer. "I told you already that there is no triangle! No 180 degrees or potential threesomes to be had with me. Tim is back in San Francisco and Cesar and I are doing just fine. We are a straight line."

"A straight line is a 180 degree angle, dingbat." Lloyd snapped back, the rueful stare that Stephanie gave him in response bringing a cautious smile to his lips. "And you still think that Rojelio isn't some placeholder? You're not waiting for some broody Batman Junior to come to his senses and sweep you off your feet."

Startled that she was okay with the way the journey had gone, Stephanie let out a tired huff as she sank down on the left side of the bed. "I don't know," she glumly admitted. "Well, I _do _know about the whole Tim thing but. . . I don't know! Cesar is a nice guy and he's always been a gentleman but it's just. . . y'know. . ."

"He'll never be part of your world," Lloyd concluded, his tongue sliding between his teeth as he crafted what was on his mind to speech. "He's somebody to come home to but he's not a part of your home."

"I hate you," Stephanie fired back without a hint of true bitterness. Then, putting her own deductive abilities to work, she quickly backpedaled. "Big bro, _please _tell me that you're not going through the whole 'the love of my life is better off without me' thing or, so help me, I will punch you in your scrot until you no longer have one that's visible to the human eye."

"Well, it's not like it's something I can avoid thinking about!" Lloyd fired back while wisely paying heed to his sister's warning and cautiously sitting down on his side of the bed. "We all have the capacity to engage in an atrocity. I put plenty of people into the ground before their time because another person thought that it was a good idea that I should. Who's to say that any one of us wouldn't get tired of taking on someone else's fight? Even if it was something we willingly took on in the first place!"

"Yeah, and it's not like Kara's childhood was all sunshine and roses either," Stephanie noted while gamely quirking her head to one side. "She got goaded to become a hero by her cousin and she's trained constantly by you and Bruce so she can handle that much more of the load and a big reason that you keep on doing it is because you know she wants that approval. Just like you did things you were uncomfortable with just so you could stay in Mao's good graces."

"Or if I wanted to start an all-out crime war just so I could be the one to stop it and look like a big-time hero."

"Hey! Don't forget the triumphant return from the dead thingy!"

"I was looking to trim the fat," Lloyd replied while leaning back against his portion of the head board, his equally frank retort drawing a chuckle from his little sister that he punctuated with some chortling of his own. "Well, don't we pick the worst possible times to start with the psychoanalysis?"

"Meh. Don't think of it as bad timing. Think of it as part of our uniqueness," Stephanie suggested, her right heel slowly bouncing up off the mattress and down again. The reflex motion brought up a staccato creaking noise that began to breath a hint of life into their otherwise dead surroundings. "Lloyd, we all start off doing something because it's in our own personal interests. That's just part of human nature. We can claim that we're doing something for a cause or to honor someone or to do some honest good but we're still always keeping what's in it for us in the back of our minds."

"And again with the cheery encouragement," Lloyd said dully, his hazel eyes following Stephanie's lower legs as he busied himself with his fingers.

"Well, the fact remains that what we do helps other people choose what they want to do with their lives," came the immediate counter, the Green Lantern's voice reflecting the iron will of its owner. "That's when our self-serving behavior becomes a cause worth fighting for, big brother. What you do helps Batman overcome all the crap he thinks he has to do because of the past. You help Little Miss Doe Eyes realize that not everybody is out to get her and you keep noticing me so I don't have to trumpet myself around saying that I should be noticed so don't start giving me any twatish twaddle about being better off gone because _that _is just a way of making yourself feel better."

The left half of the bed let out an angry screech as Lloyd brought an end to Stephanie's leg bouncing by draping his own right heel across his sister's shins. The awkwardly affectionate gesture produced a moment of silence before the younger of the two shook her head and let out a soft chuckle.

"You're telling me that you're _not _always trying to call attention to yourself?" Lloyd couldn't help but ask while pulling his limbs back, the angle produced by the slanting of the drawn halves forcing him to telekinetically manipulate his body back to a safe seating position. "By the way, this is hardly in keeping with your happy-go-lucky nature,"

"What can I say?" Stephanie provided while presenting her palms to the aged roof. "There's nobody here I want to impress."

"Ta for that, Tweety," Lloyd gamely offered back. "So what are you thinking about the 'Future You'?"

Stephanie let out another noisy sigh. "I don't think she's telling us the entire truth," she began with typical terseness. I think that I might be wrong but I'm also pretty damn certain that I should be able to tell when I'm lying."

"I can agree with that. On both counts," Lloyd replied, his eyes drifting back towards the ceiling. "'Course, the big question here is _what _she happens to be lying to us about." The Brit heard the distinct creak and responded by looking down and turning to meet Robin as she looked back at him. Her pale, blue eyes were cast wide as if they were storing up an enormous secret. It briefly reminded him of how a squirrel would puff out its cheeks to store food and that odd connection was nearly enough to force a laugh out of him in spite of the situation.

"I think that you and Future Me may have been a little more than just friends."

The Black Dog raised his eyebrows at the theory. "Me and _Future _You," he parroted back, the telepath naturally picking his words and how he chose to emphasize them. "Look, sis. This may just be a part of some latent Florence Nightingale complex that's just been stewin' up in your diseased mind but. . ."

"I'm serious here!" Robin butted in, her beseeching manner punctuated with a peevish squeak. "I mean, did you honestly see the way she was looking at you when you were doing your little CSI amateur night crap? I was ready to roll my eyes until they hit the moon while she was looking like she had undressed you with her eyes, shagged you, and was looking for her purse so she wouldn't have to leave her number."

"She said authoritatively," Lloyd chimed in before wincing in response to the firm _thwack _he received to the back of his head. "All right. Fine. But still. . . you and me? We're. . . ugggggh."

"Yes, I know. Seemingly squickworthy, over-the-line desperate, borderline psychologist incest kind of crazy. I know." Stephanie reiterated, her lengthy explanation allowing her adopted brother to ride out his repulsed shuddering. "Still, Future Me mentioned that Future Kara was away from Earth when Future You passed away. . ."

"Sweet Jiminy, please stop saying future," Lloyd mumbled.

"Fine, fine, fine," Stephanie agreed, the Green Lantern already quite impatient from the distractions. "All I'm saying is that maybe Darkseid wasn't the only reason why The Afflicted was so keen on getting out of here even while you were on death's door."

Lloyd suddenly felt the need to frantically rub at his eyes but he managed to restrain himself to merely shutting his eyes and smoothing his fingers over his temples. "Steph, you mean to tell me that you think the world's destruction was jumpstarted because I decided to pull a Guinevere and jump Lady Lancelot's scrawny bones?"

"Well, I do remember thinking quite a bit of myself back then," intervened another Stephanie Brown, the elder of the two Gothamites looking remarkably unperturbed as she leant on the cracked doorframe. Her bluish-black cowl still pooled around her neck and shoulders, the last of Earth's guardians took a moment to examine the broken perch selected by her unexpected comrades as she waited for her own accompaniment to catch up. "Thanks for being so patient, guys. My preparations are complete so unless you've got any further questions. . ."

"Oh, I've got one," the younger Stephanie eagerly reported while scooting off the bed. "Just how again do you expect me and Lloyd to hold off The Afflicted while you and Kare Bear do your own little thing?"

The Bat turned aside the pointed accusation behind the question with a disarming smirk. "Oh, I'm sure you guys will think of something interesting," replied the elder Stephanie as she turned her back to them. "After all," she added, "whether we're going with Back to The Future or Quantum Leap logic, I wouldn't be here if you went and died in the fight that you're about to get into so you should be safe as houses."

Kara wisely chose to silently mull the matter over as she and the two remaining champions watched The Bat proceed down the central stairwell on the way to the catacombs below. "Kind of scary that she's finally managed to shape her insanity into a weapon after all those years," the half-Praxian observed, her own left shoulder now unnecessarily supporting the entranceway. "By the way, thanks for saying what you're thinking instead of just thinking it."

Robin offered a grin as she skipped forward so that Kara could give her a warm embrace, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns not feeling the least bit ashamed when she received an affectionate hair mussing as an additional reward. Taking point, she kept her eyes forward as she dimly heard Lloyd cease his own progress in order to stand side-by-side with his lover. As she took in the light smacking of lip-to-lip contact wafting against her back, the slight smirk turned into a determined glower.

_Okay. So t__he present's lookin' pretty good. Now let's see about the future._

* * *

_Themyscira – Armory of Hippolyta - Present day_

"Well, you must admit that I should be surprised by this turn of events," the voice on the other end of the communication line replied, the matter-of-fact tone drawing a cold bit of anger from The Afflicted. "You inform me that The Bat now has a surefire way to retrieve a critical possession of yours and you leave me to the task of protecting it while you take on a different matter?"

"I don't recall stuttering," The Afflicted slowly replied, the subdued angling of her usually high cheekbones accentuating her impatience. "What's wrong? Is your hated rival suddenly too much for you to handle?"

A flicker of rage briefly wormed its way through the face of Kara's audience before it was subdued by a familiar calm. "I'm merely stating that this is quite the burden you're choosing to place upon my shoulders. How can you trust me to carry out my part of the bargain?"

"Because you've already figured out that The Bat's plan won't succeed even if she gets exactly what she wants," Kara fired back with equally cool assurance. "And then there's the little fact that, should you somehow manage to survive any failure then I'll make certain that you'll have an opportunity to endure every atrocity you've managed to heap down on innocent people before I put you out of your wretched misery."

She knew the words were overdone but she still managed to enjoy the involuntary blanching of her unwilling assistant. As it was with most failed despots over the course of history, the fear of an indignant death could always trump the possibility of a brave betrayal. "Finally, you can rest assured that I'll take care of the problem in my own way before it can get out of hand. All you have to do is make certain to handle your meager part of the mission and you'll get to live another day."

As expected, the unseemly visage displayed on the screen in front of Kara tried and failed to veil the creature's discontent. "It's just as well," the keeper of the tunnels said in concession. "The beast has been hungering for a good fight anyway."

_Or at least one it believes it can win_, The Afflicted considered as the nearby monitor faded to black.

"Well, aren't we feeling assured of ourselves?"

The cheerily delivered suggestion was enough to startle her and that chink in the armor only further soured The Afflicted's mood. Looking up to meet the source of her aggravation, she somehow managed to draw no happiness from the sight of Richard Grayson's spirit hanging listlessly off the ground. Clad in his familiar and taunting spiritual facsimile of his Nightwing battle armor, he was heels-over-head with his back straight as an arrow and his lips set in a goofy smile. It was, after all, a maneuver he couldn't have accomplished while he was still among the living despite thousands of hours of aerial acrobatics and he had to find _some _way of getting a bright side out of no longer having a spinal cord.

"It's been months, Richard," Kara said dully, her back already turned towards the apparition. It would have been pointless to believe that she could escape so she made no effort not to and it wasn't long before her supernatural senses honed in on the inaudible whoosh of intangible matter as her old friend swooped around her. "I don't suppose that you're just here for a ringside seat?"

"Well, you've gotta admit that it's a pretty interesting backdrop," Nightwing replied. "Either Stephanie finds what she's looking for or you lose whatever little is left of your soul. I mean, it's not quite as intriguing as the cannibal weresquirrels that have been taking up space in St. Thomas but I figure I can watch those any time. . ."

"Keep prattling, ghostie," The Afflicted broke in, her long strides quickly bringing her towards the spot in the storehouse where she had kept her traditional battle armor. "The Bat needs my past self in order to retrieve the _Mugalshir _and that will mean she's sending the other two to try and keep me from stopping her. All that's left is for me to wipe out the innocent Green Lantern and I'm another step closer to my rest."

"So you really think you can go through with it?" Nightwing asked, his face impassive as he watched Kara don the black-and-gold armaments. "You kill Stephanie and you wipe out the very last morsel of the life you loved. Everything you fought for with all your heart will finally be dead and gone and that's supposed to give you peace?"

Pausing in her preparations, The Afflicted flashed Nightwing her most picturesque of fake smiles. "I'll always have you though, won't I?" she pointed out before lowering the back half of her facemask and nestling the back of her head against the cool but stern plating.

"You'll have that and your lies," Nightwing replied, the late detective refusing to give an inch. "You're not doing this to stop feeling. You're doing this because you've deluded yourself into thinking that this is the only thing that can keep you alive. You still think that Stephanie stole something that was yours."

"She did steal it!" Kara roared back, her crystalline blue eyes now tinged with crimson. "All of her talk about being unafraid and willful but she couldn't even work up the courage to admit how she felt! She had to wait until my back was turned, preying on him like a leech and taking him when he was at his very weakest!"

"And I'm telling you, once again, that nothing like that happened," Nightwing calmly replied, his annoyed sigh coupling nicely with the sound of metal joints snapping together as The Afflicted brought down the front half of her mask over her face. "Lloyd and Stephanie never betrayed you, Kara. Whether you want to face it or not, it was _you _that couldn't take the fact that Lloyd was dying. You couldn't do anything to change it so you decided to pick accusation over acceptance! You just hammered yourself into thinking that your husband's sacrifice was just an act of perfidy instead of deciding to have the courage to be there for him even when he couldn't be everything you wanted!"

"I _never _wanted to leave him like the way he was!" The Afflicted roared back, the rage-fueled emotion overriding the mufflers of her mask. "And my husband deserved far more than just wasting away waiting for some monster to steal everything from him! _I _deserved more than having to spend years wondering when the man who owned so much of my heart would be ripped from me! I would have kept fighting as long as your people wanted me if fate could have allowed me that one, simple morsel but all you did was shake your heads and bemoan the fact that he couldn't do the work you should have handled in the first place!"

"And here you are bewailing that life wasn't fair to you even after you took it upon yourself to make the choices of so many others," Nightwing answered back, his purposefully slow floating eventually bringing him down face-to-face with the embittered champion. "And I may never see Naomi again but at least I can be pretty damn certain that I made her life brighter and that she would still look me in the eye. Don't blame me, or anyone else, because Stephanie had the guts to tend to a field that you didn't want to deal with anymore."

The fury of the honest indignity was enough to momentarily separate The Afflicted from the world that continued to pulse around her and the clever spirit. It was a bewildering gambit worthy of their adopted father and the soul of Richard Grayson drank deeply of satisfaction as a conjoined beam of emerald and golden energy barreled through the stone walls of the storehouse before striking Kara's unprotected back. The force of it, enough to push through the Earth's very core, was just enough to knock The Afflicted from her feet and send her airborne. Furthermore, the blistering eldritch energy within the attack left the mighty warrior distracted from the task of recovering her momentum until she was well over the Atlantic Ocean and that span of time was more than enough for Nightwing to deliver full appreciation to the two challengers for Earth's dilapidated throne.

"Bloody, buggerin' hell! Izzat you, Grayson?"

"Woah! It's Ghostwing! Or maybe it's Dickie the Friendly Nightspecter!"

And vice versa.

"Nice to see that you two aren't affected too much by my undead state of affairs," Dick proclaimed while looking the cherished memories over. "So how much did The Bat tell you about just what you're going up against?"

"Not enough to know that you were going to be here," Lloyd sharply replied, the telepath scrutinizing this unexpected development despite the enthusiasm behind his previous sputtering. "So who's side are you supposed to be on?"

"The side that's interested in making this world safe and ready to rise up from the ruins," Nightwing replied while looking at the half-demon with a noted measure of respect. "That means that you two need to come out of this alive so let me tell you, right here and now, that if you want to survive then you're going to have to pull out all the stops. Put _every _card on the table."

"And if that's not enough?" Lloyd naturally asked.

"It's got to be enough," Nightwing beseeched, his stately and spectral head tilting to one side in response to the sudden stress. "You were both sent here to right a wrong and doing that will mean putting each hint of training and power you've got and centering it in a manner that no one else has been able to achieve. Every bit of strategy and concentration the two of you have put together in the last years will be. . . GOD DAMN IT, QUIT DOING THAT!"

Stephanie paid just as much heed to Grayson's angry exclamations as she did when he was alive, an impish and toothy grin bridging her lips as she continued to pass her right hand through Nightwing's immaterial head. "Fist in skull, fist in air," she rhythmically replied while continuing her unnecessary actions. "Fist in skull, fist in air. Fist in skull, first in _YOW!_"

"Thank you for that," Nightwing said while Stephanie hopped on the foot that Lloyd hadn't stomped on. "Okay, tell me you guys have something cooking here because there ain't that much I can do for you."

"Oh, relax, Dickie," Robin answered in chiding before turning to face her living comrade with a knowing smirk. "Looks like it's time to let the latest cat out of the bag, Mister Thomas," she said while extending her arms forward, her palms parallel to The Black Dog's shoulders. Waiting patiently as the Brit wasted another precious fraction of a second by raising his eyebrows, she shut her eyes tight only a moment before feeling Lloyd's fingers tenderly sliding against hers.

"Ready when you are, Miss Brown."

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns took in a deep breath, the waing scent of her brother's blood and sweat tickling her senses.

"_Qua illic est infirmitas una permissum lamina reperio suum vires in iunctum. Duos animus es unus. Duos es unus_."

* * *

The Afflicted was within two miles of her destination when all of Themyscira was bathed in a detonation of blinding light and vociferous sound. She managed to surge forward through it all, albeit at a far slower pace than what she had been hoping to keep. On the other hand, it was only thanks to her unfettered determination that she hadn't been thrown aside like an unwanted doll as the massive surge of supernatural energy swarmed and spread around her. Continuing to pierce her way closer to the epicenter of the destruction, a single thought continued to beat against her cerebral cortex even as blood trickled from her ears, lips, and nasal cavity.

_I knew it all along_.

* * *

As brightness and life was briefly reintroduced to The Isle of The Amazons, it was the illumination that bloomed from The Bat's right palm that kept her and Kara from being enveloped by the surrounding darkness. The blistering heat had eliminated any trace of mold, mildew, or decay to the extent that the underground cavern smelled like an oft-ignored green house, the parched soil and stone presenting an aroma that could only be fully supplied by nature itself. Of course, it stood to reason that the massive solar crystals would have provided a necessary dosage of light but the extent of their disrepair combined with their deep entombment within the Earth's mantle left any measure of saving grace meaningless.

It was a foreboding choice for a battlefield, Kara couldn't help but ponder as she carefully made her way through the buried ruins. The Bat had warned of proceeding at too brisk of a pace but the smashed remains of her cousin's former hideaway was more than enough to give her pause.

"I still don't understand," Kara said calmly through the gloomy shards of what had been The Fortress of Solitude. "Why would The Afflicted choose to hide such a valuable possession within a place she supposedly hated? And in a place that was so far away from Themyscira?"

"Well, who is going to be dumb enough to try and take it from her in the first place?" The Bat asked back. "Besides, Kal-El was the first person on this planet who chose to 'use' you. Given what I've come to know about your future self, I imagine she thought it would be pretty fitting to make her mark in the place where she slaughtered the planet's most honored hero."

Shrouded as she was by the darkness, Kara was well within the right to shiver at the wintry tone even if she did not choose to do so. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

The bobbing, yellowish light came to a stop along with its carrier, the bright sphere easily revealing The Bat's sour disposition. "Well, don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that you were willing to come down here to assist me. That being said, it may just be 15 years of an older you trying to kill me and everything that I still care for but I hope you don't mind if I keep my distance."

Kara was kind enough to not narrow her eyes at the blatant hostility. Besides, her wide, crystalline irises made it that much easier to root through the shadows without any need of a light. "I'm guessing you have the answers to a lot of questions you're not willing to listen to," she guessed while turning her visual attentions to the splintered remains of what may have been a video monitor. "I still don't know if you came forward in time like we did and fought the hopeless battle you threw Lloyd and Stephanie into. I don't know if there's anything I can do to prevent the future from unfolding the way that it is right now."

Theories were already percolating within Kara's thoughts but The Bat offered not even a sliver of a catalyst, the shrouded vigilante continuing to make her way through the expansive tunnel. "Maybe it will be just like those Greek fables when someone would hear about something horrible that was going to happen to them and then they'd do everything they could to try and prevent it. Then, after so much time, it turned out that everything they did was just taking them right to the tragic thing they were trying to avoid." Kara's eyebrows furrowed as her mind regarded the physical and psychological obscurity, her rows of teeth lightly grinding against each other as she rankled at the frustration. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

The Bat let out a dry, humorless chuckle that only served to antagonize her company. "I'm sorry," the vigilante said hoarsely. "I guess I kind of forgot what a good person you were. Still, it's usually the best of us that get drawn into the web that much quicker. Just ask your cousin."

"The web?" asked Kara, her eyes level between widening in anticipation and narrowing with the sense of caution.

"Lies, Kare Bear," The Bat replied, another dim chortle escaping her lips a moment after recognizing that she had remembered the long-forgotten epithet. "In fact, if you want a real reason why you might go psycho in the near future, maybe you should ask yourself how you'll respond when you realize just how much you're being lied to. What's going to happen when Lloyd says he's still fine when he's only got six months to live? What'll you do when Superman gets put under someone's influence and Bruce tells you that the only way to handle the situation is to put your cousin to death?"

The two-woman procession came to another stop, this time at the silent behest of the rear guard. Of course, it didn't take much for Stephanie to see the signal before she got too far ahead and her small steps eventually brought her back to looking at her old friend in the eyes with the aid of the golden light swathed around her palm.

"I'm tired of dancing around the topic. Tell me why things came to be this way and then follow that up with an explanation why I should believe anything you say."

Pressed for time as they were, The Bat couldn't help but respect Kara's tranquilly-delivered demand. "There's a reason why your grandpoppa thought that you'd be a good pick to take over the Earth," The Bat began, her evasive wording drawing an angry glare from her increasingly impatient audience. "Just like your cousin, you were the kind of person that could have had this world on a string and the people that had the power that you could have taken so easily were well aware of that. Add that to Bruce and Lloyd training you to overcome your weaknesses and then you leave the powerbrokers with no other option but to work with you until they can worm their way in and stab you in the back."

"That's still not an answer," Kara coldly reminded her far more powerful companion and Stephanie, despite her advantage, could do little more than beg off and back a step away.

"What do you want me to say, Kara? I can't just point you to a single instance and say 'this is where you'll stop being a good person'. Life doesn't work that way." The confession seemed to weigh down on The Bat as it did on Kara, her shoulders sinking and her stance weakening until she hardly looked as if she could carry on the role of Gotham's dark protector. "They killed all of us by the inches. Every big bad and every loss and every sliver of hope and every matter that we were steered into by the words or desires of somebody else all worked together to steer us towards wherever the hell we are by now."

"And were those 'words' spoken by others also steeped with more lies," Kara soldiered on, the younger woman surprised to suddenly find herself on the offensive. "And what about you? You've used magic to evolve yourself to the point where I can't even read your heartbeat to determine whether you're telling the truth! Are you one of those people who ruined us or are you just saving that until just the right moment?"

Stephanie Brown countered with a stare that was quite reminiscent of her adopted father. That being said, it had been a good, long while since Kara Zor-el could be laid low with a simple Batglare and thus the two champions were left to staring each other down. Their attentions drawn together at such a sharp point, it took them a fraction of a second longer than usual to recognize that they were being watched. By the time they caught onto it, their ears were assaulted with a deep rumble of laughter and two gnarled but massive hands colliding against one another in a gesture of applause. Turning to meet the unexpected presence, they were soon greeted by the sight of an orange-skinned creature, his usual rich ruddiness subdued by years spent in his sun-deprived prison. Tall but thickly set with his aged muscles, broad chest, and squat legs, his amethyst and white body armor bore some mild signs of disrepair but that only served to punctuate the dangerous threat emanating from a creature that had taken great pride in setting about a tragedy that would lead to the deaths of billions of innocent creatures throughout the cosmos.

"I was starting to think that the lapdog had gotten lost," Stephanie hissed back, the makeshift torch of her right hand shrinking away as she circulated her eldritch reservoirs. "So how little did it take for The Afflicted to convince you to try and get in our way, Mongul?"

Mongul, the former proprietor of Warworld and the destroyer of Coast City, provided his slow, savored smile as he ceased his applause. "Oh, there's really no need for those hostilities, Lantern," he replied with the deep, slow slither that had preceded the deaths of too many to count. "I was just expressing my appreciation for the wonderful little show you're putting on, Miss Brown. Don't let me stop you."

A familiar hum bloomed from The Bat's knuckles as a half-dozen eldritch blades emerged from the base of her forearm. "Sorry, old man. You're gonna have to pay to play."

Superfluous as she was, Kara had ample time to register not just the blooming conflict taking place in front of her but also pay regard to any other stimuli provided by the surrounding environs. Of course, she hardly needed even the barest of her resources to interpret the massive roar booming against Mongul's back or the silver blur of desiccated flesh that was rushing forward to meet them.

"Doomsday," Mongul said calmly just as Kara was under attack by an eight-foot, 1,100 pound engine of destruction. "Dinner time."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I suppose I should apologize for the week-long delay but, if I am to be an honest man, I honestly couldn't give a toss. Now that I've written over one million words of this twaddle and have worked 50-plus hour weeks for 14 straight weeks (I'm throwing in volunteer and beta reading time because I want this to sound that much more impressive).

So I decided to go on my annual vacation, got to get recorded singing "Drop It Like It's Hot" in Bloomington, Indiana, met Gail Simone and Geoff Johns in Chicago, and even went up to Ontario to have my first face-to-face meeting with my Canadian little sister. Say hello to The Batchild everybody!

And for those of you looking for vacation tips? Well, my advice is to come down to Memphis. Sure, we've got the occasional violent racial debate and the surrounding county towns areas are currently trying to disassociate with this city like it had an unusually violent case of facial herpes but, by Buddha, we know how to set the roof on fiyah.

Yes, fiyah. Remember, Memphians aren't supposed to be good spellurs.

* * *

_Issue #123 Preview_

All right, enough of this character-establishing exposition shit! It's time for some knockdown, drag out, Pier 6 brawling courtesy of our three charming heroes, Doomsday, Mongul, and the almighty Afflicted. But will even the fused form of Lloyd and Stephanie have another power to match up with the force behind Earth's final devastation? Can Kara manage to keep pace with a monstrosity killed and raised to become the galaxy's greatest monster? And will this overrated writer actually manage to go an entire issue without imbuing his words with a metamessage that will be dully ignored by his dozens and dozens of fans? Find out in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Me and Mrs. Brown. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	123. Me and Mrs Brown

Issue #123

Me and Mrs. Brown

Though she usually considered herself to be an eager scholar as it concerned her field of expertise, Kara would have been lying if she said she had taken a great deal of time to study the monster known as Doomsday. On the other hand, the former Supergirl was quite convinced that not even the bountiful treasure trove of information that was Bruce Wayne's dossiers would have been enough to fully prepare her for the blinding speed that the hulking beast employed as he rushed towards her. She could barely register a specific whit of her opponent's muscular frame as its massive, left fist made a beeline straight for the center of her face, the punch carrying enough force behind it to set off a massive tremor throughout the Earth had it meant nothing but the open air just inches away from her left ear. Slinking further back to avoid the right hook that attempted to take advantage of her off-balanced footing, she eagerly turned the tables with a trio of quick shots to what she guessed to be her opponent's kidneys before restoring herself to her full height and launching into a left hook/spinning roundhouse kick combination that sent her girthy opponent tumbling to the ground.

Eager to regain her full bearings, Kara ignored the escalating fracas between The Bat and Mongul and spent her half-second taking stock of her chosen adversary. Soaking in the vicious snarl on Doomsday's rotted, grayish-black teeth, she examined the similarly colored exoskeletal ridges that extended from dozens of different spots along the monster's arms, face, and torso. Sharpened continuously over the course of their violent evolution, the spiky protrusions had imbued the beast with phenomenally sharp claws and fangs that she only narrowly avoided as Doomsday rushed in and tried to gut her before attempting to dig into her neck with his spiny maw. Avoiding the repulsive maneuver, she fired a quick elbow into the left side of Doomsday's jaw, the hastily gathered force behind it serving to disorient and spin around her stronger but slower foe. Grabbing the gray-skinned brute by the back of its head, she leapt lightly through the air before forcefully slamming herself back-first to the ground, her unforgiving knees simultaneously slamming against the flat side of Doomsday's chin so that the bloodstained bones around his jaw cracked, splintered, and fell to the floor.

The choice of flash over substance cost Kara just as much as she had dreaded upon realizing that she had made the mistake. The double-knee strike hadn't been enough to knock down her larger opponent and Doomsday moved quickly to take advantage of his opportunity. Her body thrown harshly into the air by a powerful kick to her lower abdomen, her body bounced three times against the surrounding walls of the cave before she was finally able to gain a hold of herself. Perching her feet in front of the incoming rock, she sprung off the wall and tucked her knees just tightly enough to avoid the dangerous slash of the monster's claws as Doomsday passed by her underneath. She was under assault even before her feet could touch the ground but she made certain to wade in and stay close, her Sambo and Shotokan-style strikes keeping Doomsday from getting too much advantage out of his far superior reach.

Her thoughts of Doomsday's capacities now more firmly entrenched, The Last Daughter of Krypton allowed her body to play its part within the brutal exchange while the forefront of her mind began to wander away to other avenues. _Is this monster a willing servant of my future self, _she couldn't help but ponder while landing a half-dozen jabs that peppered across Doomsday's cheeks and squat nose. _I remember Mister Wayne telling me something like he couldn't be killed by the same means twice and grows stronger with every rebirth. How many times has he died? How many times has The Afflicted been the one to deliver the killing blow?_

Abandoning the worthless and unsolvable hypotheses, Kara read her opponent's overachieving attempt to lock her into a pure test of strength and locked Doomsday into a stiff front face lock. Unwilling to give the non-flying beast an opportunity to twist free, she leapt upward as quickly as she could while tilting her captive's massive frame so that it's muscular lower half would be forced to messily crash and fold against the stiff soil and stone above. The sound of cracking bones and a gnarled growl wafted through her ears as she gave physics a helping hand during their inevitable descent as she forced Doomsday's skull into the ground at a speed of nearly 900 miles an hour. It was a trifling blow to be sure but enough to stun her opponent for the moment Kara needed to wrap her long legs around Doomsday's left thigh, her pale, sinewy arms still coiled around the beast's thick neck.

_I don't even know if any of this will do any good_, Kara thought over the sound of Doomsday's howl as she squeezed and twisted her forearms until the beast's neck let out a dry and harsh _SNAP!_. _It's pretty conceivable that people would constantly expect more of me. Maybe they'll just keep on taking even when I'm still trying to figure out who I want to be away from the fight. And how __**will **__I respond when the people I love aren't there to support me anymore? Who's to say that I won't finally become my father's daughter? _

The purposeful woolgathering forced Kara to pay another stiff penalty, the punishment manifesting itself as Doomsday broke free of her complicated hold. Weathering the sharp ripping of skin as the beast's bones scraped against the underside of her arms, she could only wince as Doomsday rose hastily to his feet and plowed through the western wall with her skull and back at the forefront. Tunneling through the five-foot-thick cluster of rock with ease, the two monsters were soon plummeting through one of the many "air pockets" that pockmarked the northernmost points of Earth's mantle, the frigid temperatures above continuing to mesh sloppily with the surrounding scalding heat as steam continued to billow around them.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, Kara chastised herself while arcing upward to avoid Doomsday's desperate swipes. When combined with the news and events in the recent past, the small failure threatened to punch through the walls that surrounded her volatile temper. Doing her best to batten the weakness down, she ignored the heat rising into her cheeks and through her optic nerves while casting her sights forward for the best angle of attack.

_Had The Afflicted allowed her anger to get the better of her? Perhaps the search for inner peace had been so long and fraught with missteps and miscommunications that her future self had decided that surrendering to the rage was more advantageous than continuing to fight it away. Maybe she tried to bottle up all her anger until it exploded_, she continued on while transforming her body into a human javelin that buried itself into Doomsday's plummeting body at slightly over Mach 2. _Rao knows that I've always been tempted to just run away from it all. Maybe find something simpler to do to work with the world_.

The weight of her confession coupled with the explosive plume of lava that spurted from the iron-laced rock to the east and clashed horribly as she surged forward to engage in another round of fisticuffs. Shifting her tactics over to a strict supply of Sambo-style elbow and knee strikes, she continued to keep the battle close even as it felt as if the world was collapsing down around her. She evened out the calamity of the violence with the serenity that came with the lessons provided to her by people like Bruce, Lloyd, and even Nigel, the portly instructor's lessons put to good use as she floated around Doomsday's back step and lunge before employing a belly-to-back takedown that allowed her to send the gray-skinned monster down hard onto his chest. She scrabbled up the massive back in front of her allowed her to claw onto Doomsday's back after sending the gray-skinned monster down hard on the monster's gut. Her unyielding fists soon finding purchase against her opponent's head and neck, Kara circumvented the current violence by reminding herself of all the kindnesses she had received.

_I've been able to learn a lot_, she reflected as Doomsday finally managed to squirm free and bash her into the eastern wall. _Of course, I suppose there's always a little bit more left to pick up, _she added while laboring to keep Doomsday's massive hands away from her throat.

* * *

The Afflicted examined the amalgamated champion that defiantly stood before her, the mighty warrior still as a statue yet still poised to wage war, and responded with a disgusted snarl.

"The Knock'tlarr fusion chant," she unnecessarily noted, her witnessing of the maneuver that had allowed her and her late husband to claim numerous critical victories only serving to encourage the notion that there was grisly work to be done. "I had almost forgotten what a tired trick that ended up becoming."

Lloyd and Stephanie provided a caustic response of their own by surging forward at a velocity that Barry Allen would have been hard pressed to challenge on his freshest pair of legs and knocked The Afflicted on her ass with a vicious left cross. A defiantly familiar smirk perched on the warrior's lips as they observed the black-and-gold clad monster quickly return to her feet, the merged vigilantes agreed to present a dramatic twirl of the _Mugalshir _as a snooty aftereffect, the gleaming silver saber looking quite at home within the skilled left hand.

"Just wanted to make a point clear here before we got to the fisticuffs," the two souls replied, the merging of Lloyd's West London brogue and Stephanie's Gotham-brand sarcastic chirp producing a near mockery of a Cockney accent. "Has anyone ever told you that you're starting to sound like one of those whining children who uses cheat codes in Call of Duty or brings in blokes like Mewtwo and Lugia in Pokémon fights with other people? I mean, they're always cacklin' whenever they win like they're masters of all they survey and yet they're the loudest ones to cry foul whenever somebody knocks 'em off their high horse."

The rush forward and the mighty uppercut that followed took less than a picosecond but The Afflicted managed to avoid the maneuver with time to spare. She followed up her perfect dodge with an uppercut that crashed against her opponent's jaw with a force that could seemingly crack the heavens, the explosion of kinetic energy searing her opponent's chin and sending the fused warrior screaming into the sky.

"Well, I'll make certain to kill you quickly then. If only to limit your own whinging," Kara countered while soaring upward to follow up on her successful counter. Impressive as it was, however, the world's most powerful warrior found herself taken both physically and psychologically aback as an explosion of emerald-colored energy repelled her. Unwillingly curious to the goings on, she continued looking on as the eldritch energy began to shape itself into hundreds upon hundreds of energy daggers shaped precisely like the energy claws that Stephanie had always been so comfortable with wielding. Of course, the added influx of Lloyd's demonic power had obviously allowed her to go several steps further with the trick and now her brother's body was nearly completely surrounded by emerald spikes to the point until the only visible part of the Brit was the upper half of his face and the left hand that held the _Mugalshir _in a classic Kenpo stance.

"Come one, come all and see The Human Porcupine, ladies and gentleman," the fused warrior roared with a boisterous shout. "Just be sure not to surprise it though. Do that and there's no telling what kind of mess you'll get in."

The Afflicted snarled from within the confines of her face mask as her adversary transformed into a whirling dervish, the dozens of quills flung at her replaced almost instantly by identical replacements so that there was no true place or moment when Lloyd and Stephanie were left defenseless. The ten-inch spikes only managed to nick her armor and slightly sear into the skin until it irritated her to the point where she moved to effortlessly deflect the projectiles with nothing more than her open palms. It was a practiced form of energy manipulation presented to her by Lloyd himself and that fact alone persuaded Kara to add the extra dose of poetry to the proceedings. She looked on dully as her opponents rushed forward, a note of rebuke already wandering at the tip of her tongue as she casually extended her right hand forward to meet the telegraphed swipe of the _Mugalshir_.

The ripping sound of torn flesh and shorn bone was familiar but the recognition that she was the one enduring the agony was something long forgotten by a being as powerful as The Afflicted. However, the fact remained that her right ring finger had been cut cleanly from her hand, a sloppy squelch ringing in her ears as blood continued to try and flow into vessels and capillaries that were no longer present to receive them. A variety of evasive maneuvers were quick to follow as The Last Daughter of Krypton wisely went about the task of avoiding the removal of more important body parts. She had anticipated that the battle would have its own difficulties but this wasn't one she had figured on and the surprise brought a sudden urgency in her actions that hinted at the slightest dose of alarm.

Of course, it was only natural for evolution to stake its claims and Kara helped it along by summoning a solar flare-like explosion that pushed through her opponent's defenses and bought her some breathing room. Her reach for the katana lodged in the scabbard strapped to her right hip was all but instinctual now; the familiar hum of the _Kikiuchi-monji _resonating through her very blood as she once again took control of the instrument that had once rendered her helpless. Soaring forward to meet her clever foe, she once again sought to make the world pay for her own misery as she clashed with the more experienced swordsman. Her wrists effortlessly tilted and twisted as the fused warrior once again set their body into a whirlwind of destruction, the silver flash of the _Mugalshir _coming at her in all directions yet she had little trouble evading or deflecting every attack thrown her way.

_"Wheeeeeeeee!" _yelled a decidedly more carefree presence. "_Look at me! I'm Green Tornado!"_

Quite aware that the bond he shared was the only reason he was still alive, Lloyd still couldn't resist the temptation to let out a tired sigh. _"Steph. Sweetie. I know you're trying to have a good time here. . ."_

"_Spiiiiiiiiiikes in the wind," _arose the sing-song chatter of the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns. _"All we are is in the wiiiiiiind."_

"_Why did I ever think this was a good idea?" _The Black Dog asked while continuing to lock blades with this dismal interpretation of the love of his life. His mindset aside, Lloyd had to admit that the act of controlling the physical portion of the fusion was proving to be a new and decidedly enthralling experience. Though usually more comfortable with being the silent strength of this particular union, the usually reserved Brit was finding that his comrade was proving herself quite capable of handling the chore he had usually left to himself.

"_Now if she could just prove to be a little less obnoxious about it then we might have somethin' 'ere!"_

"_Ohhhhhh, shut your Kringlehole. I'm tryin' to have fun here!" _replied Robin's soul as she continued to wage her part of the war from within the body of her adopted big brother. _"Wheeeeee! I'm still dizzy from all that spinning but look at all this POWAH! I'm like a kid in a candy store with a future ticket to Jillian Michaels'' fat camp! And besides, if all else fails I've got The Concussion here to back me up!"_

Lloyd couldn't help but laugh despite the very real risk of being disemboweled with the aid of the potent distraction. As he struggled with this, the usually silent third member of the unique union let loose a weighty sigh of its own.

"_My teishu, I recognize that humanity tends to cling to the tenet of desperate measures for desperate times but we must also consider the point of our own pride. I have continuously warned you of the idiocy that this creature would provide us and that such immersive battlefield cooperation could prove to be deathly catastrophic."_

Displaying the patience and determination that had allowed him to grow into becoming one of the world's most powerful warriors, Lloyd Thomas weathered the continued squabbling of the two god-like beings currently taking up residence in his person while continuing to try and keep pace with what could very well have been the most powerful combatant he had ever come across. The niggling sensation that The Afflicted had yet to unveil everything she could offer was still biting at The Black Dog's instincts but the fact that they were continuing to keep pace with the more powerful combatant still managed to take up a decent-sized portion of his active thoughts.

Not that there wasn't room for unanswered questions, of course. When did his beloved choose to take up the blade (and the blade of his old friend, no less)? Continuing to try his best to match the frenetic pace of the battle, he wondered over whether the skill he was witnessing was just another byproduct of the palpable maelstrom of might and agility that seemed to be constantly at the masked woman's beck and call. Had skill come to complement the power or was such efficiency no longer required?

He knew that there was little chance that he would have the time to find the answers in the present time, doubly so if he was planning to glean any facts that would properly satiate his starved suspicions. There were more pressing concerns to be dealt with, most specifically the painful wound in his upper right leg as The Afflicted hit home with an awkward but effective stab that punched through the upper surface of his femoral artery. A determined dose of telekinesis and a quick cross-block with the _Mugalshir _was able to keep his foe from slicing off the limb entirely and a quick kick to the left side of Kara's head was apparently enough to convince The Afflicted to pause the proceedings.

"So how does it feel, you rotten, little bitch?" The Afflicted spat, the hatred pouring through unabated despite the mufflers of her facemask. "Neither one of you ever told me that you learned how to fuse this soon! Are your thieving little fingerprints already in his soul, Stephanie? Have you already been trying to rip away at what was mine while that sycophantic demon drains his body?"

Much of as he wanted to be the one to provide the majority of their response, Lloyd had long known that Stephanie's will was not to be trifled with and found his facial muscles twisting into a gamely smirk. "Wow, Kare Bear. All this isolation must have really let your 'blonde' cells just run all wild in that noggin of yours," the dual voice replied, the timbre now siding more with Robin's caustic candor "And I'll tell you right now that I may not know the future but I'm pretty damn certain that I can find somebody a lot better than your little English muffin!"

"Don't you _dare _put that false egomania card on the table!" Kara roared back, her black-and-gold armor briefly looking like it was going to give way to the explosion of temper that had been bottled up for well over a decade. "The bond that the two of you are sharing right now is something that you couldn't understand! It's the sharing of minds and thoughts. It tears from the heart and the emotions and it's something that you could never have gotten without being the little trickster you are! You took advantage of the sympathy Lloyd always had for you and used it to worm your way into his thoughts!"

"Um, okay! Earth to fruity, megalomaniacal, Fatal Attraction Woman! It's called being his friend!" Stephanie fired back with a scornful supply of pity that made Kara seethe while Lloyd clinched his teeth. "And before you start slapping Mr. Fuffers on the stove let me just speak for me and my future self when I say that you don't get to have total authority over who _somebody other than you _wants to spend their time with!"

Torn between the thought that the battle for the future had taken a decidedly sharp turn for the worse, Lloyd chose to do what humanity had performed to carry itself past the isolation of trees and caves forward into the very limits of the cosmos themselves.

"Um, I don't suppose that I might have a say in this matter?" he asked timidly.

"NO!" Stephanie and The Afflicted shouted back, the jointly sharp rebuke putting Lloyd in his place with the comfort that these aberrations of the two most important women in his life had finally found something to agree to.

* * *

Mongul felt as if his very soul was bristling with anticipation over the opportunity to shed the blood of the tiny Earthling that patiently awaited his next move, the thoughts of the conqueror turned slaughterer turned detainee teetering between the prospects of the future and the indignities of the present. A gentleman who had bred himself for warfare since the moment he could move, the former inheritor of Warworld had committed the right atrocities to attain a position beyond his selected place upon the galactic evolutionary ladder and did so with no regrets. Where his compunction came from was how fate had chosen to delay his destiny, his untimely capture at the hands of the girl's comrades all but forcing the deposed despot to revise ambitions that he once thought to be well within his grasp. He had been forced to accept his dishonor, understand how his current lot in life would ultimately serve his intentions after all was said and done but the faulty pride presented by the shrouded Earthling often served to remind him that there was still so much for him to do.

"You should have fled the scene when you had the chance," The Bat said coldly, the certainty in the woman's voice inching Mongul's anger closer to the surface. "Your empress isn't in any position to save you now."

Mongul continued to display a cold glare as he stretched his massive shoulders until he stood at his full height, his muscle-bound arms stretching forward with palms displayed in a stance and manner taught to him by no less than the eldest chiefs of The Warriors of Okarra. "That is hardly any way to speak to someone of like minds and intentions," he cautioned, his thoughts lifted by his memories of slaughtering his aforementioned instructors with the same techniques they had labored so diligently to teach him. "Or are you just too frustrated by your own futility to remember simple niceties?"

The Bat remained equally collected, the familiar trio of energy blades extending from the broadside of her left wrist. "I'm sorry. Was I giving you the wrong distinction? Fine. Your master isn't going to save you from a very messy death at my hands. Please accept my sincerest apologies for the communications faux pas."

Mongul had no problem responding with a dry smirk before launching himself forward, the old warlord easily veering away from The Bat's opening swipes before drawing first contact with a right hook to the abdomen. The sidekick he received in return summoned a hint of pain but the punishment was quite worth it to see the flickering of the Green Lantern's smirk.

"Even if you win, what do you think to gain from finding what you seek here? After all, you've had ten years to find a way to end whatever simplistic war of ideals you and The Afflicted share. Do you really think that acquiring a mere trinket will help you accomplish what you should have done long ago?"

The former Robin responded with a trio of small, spiraling energy beams that seemed to be pulled from her left palm. The mild grunt that escaped from Mongul's lips as the center beam struck him in his left shoulder changed the woman's next course of action as she feinted a kick towards the injured body part before twisting her hips and delivering a sickeningly powerful lash with the claws connected to her left hand. Blood sizzled, magic crackled, and flesh cauterized as Mongul rolled away from the fray, a trio of angry marks lining his left cheek and running down towards his scarred lips.

"Don't start thinking that we're kindred spirits here," The Bat cynically warned her mildly wounded adversary. "I'm here by choice. You're here because you're paying for your crimes."

"Oh, we're both paying for our crimes, little one," Mongul flatly replied while charging forward once again. "At least your comrades had the courage to fight and die for something they believed in whereas you and all your ballyhooed resolve continue to struggle over slaughtering a former friend," he added while continuing to keep his smaller foe at a distance with his long but brawny limbs. "You know the part of history you've left for this shambled home. The galaxies boil with tales of your underachievement, tremble with the suspicions that you would have kept this planet from its fate had you not been so afraid of pushing yourself to your peak."

Stephanie felt her nose giving in as Mongul landed a solid jab right between her eyes, the concussive force of his massive fist sending her tumbling head over feet before finally rolling to a stop in an ungainly heap. The odd sensation of a dozen tiny bones knitting themselves together again as she leapt back to her feet and over the swooping haymaker of her opponent left her nostrils feeling slightly fuzzy as if she was involuntarily trying to hold back a sneeze.

"So what you're saying is that I didn't make my intentions clear?" The Bat inquired while continuing to bob and sway away from Mongul's powerful limbs. "Well, then let me tell you the tale of what's to come, Mongul. I kill you, you lose any chance to get whatever the hell you're looking for, I get my weapon and then The Afflicted dies. Do you think that will be clear enough for everybody?"

The Caped Crusader soared forward in an instant, the vigilante not the least bit interested about how her adversary would respond. Surprising her foe by sliding between his towering legs, she stretched the lower-half of her legs upward much the way a high diver would as they straightened their bodies on the way towards the water. Wrapping her ankles around her opponent's substantial neck, she bent herself double at an angle she wouldn't have dreamed about twisting her way into during her days as Spoiler and flipped Mongul in a manner where the back of his head and neck landed harshly against the unforgiving rock floor. She continued to roll and contort her body until she was able to position herself in a chest mount, her ankles bending harshly to support Mongul's weight as they shimmied down the back of her mammoth adversary. Still, even after all that, her attempt to plunge both sets of her claws through Mongul's chest were cast aside by a desperate forearm block before the former warlord slammed his right knee into The Bat's lower back with such force that she was flung into the northern wall of the cavern.

"You've only answered with what you _claim _you're going to do," Mongul insisted while patiently allowing his foe time to extricate herself from the rubble. "You killed hundreds. . . thousands in the name of your adopted father but never once have you considered harming a friend and that is what The Afflicted still is to you. She's the last link to the life you clung to so fretfully and taking that away will only prove that everything you've done was for nothing!"

A quartet of spiraling energy beams served as the vanguard of The Bat's next offensive, each of them burning with enough energy to tear through a five-foot thick wall of pure titanium. Of course, Mongul made quite certain to have access to sterner stuff and deflected three of the blasts with the scuffed gauntlet wrapped around his right hand while ducking below the fourth and meeting his opponent's charge with a stiff uppercut that sent his foe crashing into the roof above. Seeking to meet The Bat's descent with another stern kick to the abdomen, Mongul felt a surprised gasp rise from his throat as his limb was caught in the vigilante's comparatively tiny hands before being having his body swung about like a corkscrew by a Taekwondo-style Dragon Screw takedown. Shock gave way to pain as he felt the familiar energy claws digging deep into his left knee, the hiss of The Bat's eldritch weaponry still searing away at the bone even after he kicked the woman away with his uninjured leg.

"So this is what you've been doing all these months. Here I thought you were just biding your time for some imaginary escape when you were really just taking online courses in clinical psychology," Stephanie countered, her smile sharp as she blithely provided the same courtesy that was provided to her just seconds ago. "Tell me. Did you have such a hard-on for all the Green Lanterns you snuffed out before Kyle finally brought you down?"

Mongul was momentarily tempted to scoff at the accusation but continued to remain composed as he rose back to his feet. "I don't imagine, girl. I prepare. Your old friend may not slip on this day but she will on another. I've had far too many failures to ponder over not to recognize that there comes the time when every ruler shall fall. And, when that day comes, I shall employ the wisdom I've accrued to rebuild my empire, a kingdom with the scope and majesty that is worthy of my struggle."

The Bat briefly interrupted Mongul's stampede by firing a web of emerald energy that extended throughout the meager limits of the cavern while still being steered towards its target. The damage done to armor of The Afflicted's willing servant was calculable but Mongul was not without his own will as he barreled through the barrage until he was able to stretch out his hands until his thick fingers were merely inches from The Bat's throat. The monster that had claimed the lives of more Green Lanterns save for Sinestro himself remained relentless as he inched towards his goal, the thought that the little Earthling was having to focus all her power on keeping him away only emboldening his pride and certainty.

"And rest assured that your failures will continue to be remembered, Stephanie Brown," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I have taken great care in examining the history of the greatest of Green Lanterns and tonight that preparation yields its fruit."

* * *

Speaking of Stephanies, the younger of the two fair-haired Gothamites had somehow been momentarily silenced by the grace and speed of the swordplay being carried out in the skies above Themyscira. Her impressive supplies of determination and deceptive intelligence had continued to be successful in providing her partner with the fuel he would need to continue going toe-to-toe with The Afflicted but little more given the tenacity within the combat. The clashing of the two mystic blades, when combined with the power of their owners, was producing a supernatural backwash that seemed to have free reign over the very elements themselves. Fault lines dug miles below the earth and even further from the aerial combat zone shifted from the shockwaves as if the land itself was eager to attempt to move away from the fray. A cyclone rose at The Afflicted's back, its funnel hastily loaded to the brim with lightning and rain that would soon render the dry fields of Themyscira into a soggy mess but still the battle commenced at its frenetic pace as the fusion of Lloyd and Stephanie did what they could to keep up with this gross distortion of a lover and friend.

Enduring a hairline scratch across the wrist when a cross block took a moment too long to bring into being, Lloyd and Stephanie teleported away from the mess before any more damage could be incurred. Pressing her advantage, The Afflicted was immediately there to meet them the moment of their return to the dimensional plane and yet again as the two warriors shifted away again, the awe-inspiring speed of Krypton's last survivor making it appear as if she knew where they would be before even they did. Seeing that their plan had gone wrong, the duo resumed the porcupine-like defensive measure to buy them a second or two which they employed to circle around the world while gathering energy for the next go-round.

The _Mugalshir _glimmering at the forefront, Stephanie continued to let Lloyd lead the physical way while bringing their conjoined eldritch reservoirs to bear. Pulling up only moments before their second complete circumnavigation of the world, Robin let loose a powerful blast that pierced the horizon itself while passing on into space but not before The Afflicted was caught in the middle. Obviously expecting another round of swordplay, Kara let out a roar as she swerved away from the overwhelming show of power, her armor tattered and frayed from the explosive impact. The facemask was cracked nearly down the center, the aperture revealing that the bulk of her hair was now little more than smoldering ash and her eyes had become pure pools of crimson.

"I am tired of playing with the both of you!" The Afflicted declared, her exclamation bolstered by another upsurge of energy as she increased her strength and speed to limits that the fused form of Lloyd and Stephanie could only dream of. "Lloyd! Break the fusion now and you can return to the present! We'll be able to find a way to stay together! We can keep all this from happening again just so long as she's not a part of the equation."

Lloyd felt the rising of Stephanie's thoughts once again but he managed to batten them down, the British telepath employing his greater experience in the field to take full control. "I'm sorry, Kara. I don't know what happened here and I don't want to know how much you've been hurting but I can't let you have what you want here. Whatever you are now, you were once the most precious thing I could ever share with the world but this isn't right."

The Afflicted looked wounded, if only for a fraction of a second, before the betrayal was once again subdued by accusation. "That was always your true weakness, lover. Bruce may have always had the best intentions but that still didn't stop him from picking just the right person to play the two of us against one another. She's poisoning you. She's tearing us apart without even having to say a word!"

"Oh, give me a sodding break!" replied Lloyd and Stephanie's combined voice, the latter's high-pitched, dramatic outrage sounding a bit odd when mixed with the former's British brogue. "Now you're telling me that I'm some kind of secret weapon designed to make your life miserable?"

"That's precisely what you are and it'll only become more accurate the more Lloyd continues to associate with you!" The Afflicted argued, the tip of the _Kikuichi-monji _pointed directly at the heart of her conjoined foe. "You may have fought on the same battlefields as we did but you never needed coercion. You _wanted _the blood and the glory and you _needed _people stronger than you to make certain that you'd be kept safe and buoyed with accolades. You never wanted to make the world a better place! Ever since you pasted that first news clipping on the wall you showed how addicted you were to the fame! You wanted it no matter how badly the people who loved you wanted to back away!"

"You could have walked off the battlefield at any time, Kara," Lloyd replied, his authoritative tone wisely superseding the virulent reply that his noisier comrade had to offer. "You know just as well as I that Stephanie's only part of the reason why we choose to do what we do. If the Kara I loved wanted a peaceful life and she wanted to spend my last days together than I know I would have done so!"

A slight frown, another infinitesimal chink in the armor, registered ever-so-briefly upon the few glimmers of The Afflicted's visible countenance before the snarl once again took full reign. "You still don't understand, Lloyd. Maybe you came from a time when you could still make the choice but soon that's going to be taken from you. You're going to keep getting stronger and stronger because you know it will make you a better warrior, somebody who can better protect the things that you care about and love. You'll do it because you feel guilty about the mistakes you made in the past and because of all the people you thought you could have saved. And then there'll come a day when people who aren't as strong will start to realize that this is something they can take advantage of."

Seemingly insensible to the silence and stillness of her opposition, The Afflicted brought her katana into an even, one-handed grasp, the impossibly sharp blade mildly lowered but still ready to wage war.

"We said that we were going to root out the darkness before it could rise up and blind the light. The problem there is that the worst kind of evil doesn't work that way. They'll get you by recognizing that we're so busy sacrificing ourselves for something good that we won't be able to see that we're being turned into crutches. They will take people like Stephanie, sycophants who think that their happiness is more important than others, and use them to divert the people who could have put a stop to their precious little plans."

"What? And you consider yourself above that kind of thinking?" Lloyd barked back, his own blade still quite at the ready. "You can slaughter the world and leave it ruined but it's okay since it was going to be ruined anyway?"

"They were only still alive because of us!" Kara roared back, the crimson glow from her eyes and the sheen of white energy around the rest of her body both pulsing angrily. "But you may still have a chance to keep that from happening, Lloyd! We may not be able to save Stephanie from herself but we could still save you. I know of a way that you can be separated from The Condemner! You can be rid of that leech before he takes everything away from the both of us!"

"_I beg your pardon," _grumbled a bristled but knowledgeable tone, the message passed from three minds to one heard clear as day by all parties involved. _"Forgive me, my teishu, but my promise to stand idly by as I watch this wretched soul bleat away her miseries can only extend so far." _

The owner of the cold delivery continued to make his presence felt as a black aura began to rise up from Lloyd and Stephanie's form, the thick, supernatural vapors quickly banding together to create a proper presence for the aforementioned leech. Standing a dozen heads above the owner of his vast power and eons of wartime knowledge, the ghostly frame of The Condemner proved to be an imposing presence in spite of its lack of physical substance.

"So the other guilty party speaks up, as always, from behind the back of its host," The Afflicted sniped back, the formerly resentful smirk emboldened again by her own simmering anger. "Don't bother pretending any innocence, Za'hafal-nesh. There's little reason for you to lie anymore. You were bound to a good man who could carry out what little ambitions you could find in your last few years. Given the fates of so many of your brethren, you may have been the fortunate one after all."

"_You believe that this is something that I would have asked for, girl?" _The Condemner replied, his own retort rooted with far more calm. _"Or are you just as free of fault for what you've made of the world? Of how you chose to honor the life of the man that you claim to care for so freely? I have no problems admitting that my fate was sealed through my own hubris and misguided ambitions and that it is only by the grace of Lloyd and The Demon King that I am allowed the opportunity to serve humanity to the best of my waning abilities. I have always respected the virtues and the faults of your past self and viewed her as a worthy equal to my teishu because she was willing to accept that she had made mistakes and that others would do the same. She spoke and acted with the strength of a champion while you reek and whimper like a crying child with soiled clothing and deprived of its favorite toy!"_

It was a safe guess that the greater demon would have had something else to say but The Afflicted put it upon herself to make certain that it wouldn't happen. The blinding white aura coursing around Kara's body elevated until it was at a fever pitch, the blistering light spreading around her in a massive shockwave that provided background noise for the horror of The Condemner's yell. The already frayed environmental workings of the battlefield went through another round of havoc as The Afflicted continued to casually twist about the ethereal presence of one of the most powerful greater demons throughout all of history. It was only thanks to both the quick thinking of the demon's master as well as Robin's efficient gathering of the proximate supernatural force that allowed The Condemner to remain within the proper plane of reality until the fused warrior could bring a stop to the expulsion spell with a mighty right hook that shattered the left side of The Afflicted's facemask and sent her skidding across the ground for nearly a full kilometer.

The three warriors and two bodies stared each other down through the blinding rain and punishing wind cascading around them, the blood and sweat brought to surface by their past actions washed away in the calamity.

"So you're all tired of talking?" The Afflicted asked, her voice just loud enough for Lloyd and Stephanie's enhanced senses to pick up through the storm. "Very well. Let's see how the both of you fare with the interfering demon out of action."

* * *

The temptation of the fight was nearly becoming too much for Kara to take. Just as Lloyd would always take comfort in the artistry of a well-timed parry or a craftily woven spell, Kara still had a part of her that would enjoy the violence of the fight. Perhaps it was just a matter of spending so much of her life subject to the whims of another or maybe it was the sheer certainty that her life had a distinct role so long as there was a drama of fists and feet but the yearning for the starkness of it all would remain there regardless. It was the same part of her that ground roughly against the predominant portion of her, the former veneer that slowly evolved into a philosophy that there was a life for her away from physicality that only brought devastation.

It was something she had often talked about when she was with Lloyd in the quiet little world of their bedroom. Their muscles stretched, their thoughts relaxed in a manner that could seemingly only be found through testing each other in a far more affectionate manner, they would lightly accost one another with their ideas of finding a place where there was still room for something to grow. Perhaps in the foothills of Falkirk or an isolated river valley on the East Indies where they could create life instead of merely preserving it or destroying it altogether. She wanted to tunnel through dry earth where fertile soil lay underneath, plant seeds that would harvest food and comfort for people who needed and deserved such simple rights. Lloyd could use his magic to provide resources where her sheer brute force could not, the both of them using their oddly-received gifts as a means of renewal rather than simple survival.

There was so much more that she could do. She knew that.

She also knew that none of those half-formed ambitions would ever yield literal or metaphorical fruit if she couldn't succeed in laying low the monster in front of her.

On top of all that, Lloyd was significantly easier on the eyes than the monster that stood in front of her, Stephanie's mordant opinions notwithstanding.

Lashing her right fist against the monster's chiseled cheek, Kara once again felt the yearning for violence even as it simultaneously repulsed her. Then it was only a moment before the debate came to an end and the battle resumed its former ferocity. Having grown accustomed to the deceptive agility and reflexes of her massive foe, The Last Daughter of Krypton continued to pick her spots as best she could, the fair-haired warrior woman playing the defensive route until the beast threw too much into a punch or committed to a charge before swooping in and peppering her larger opponent with swift attacks that would serve to goad the creature into making bigger and more costly mistakes.

The feeling of sharp bone slicing through her lower torso provided a sharp reminder of the penalties of such stalling measures. Gritting her teeth and muffling a curse as Doomsday's left-handed lash managed to cut into the chest above her lower ribcage, Kara wisely spun with the momentum of the attack to avoid having the monster's poison-infested marrow to dig further into her blood. Letting out a sharp gasp from her efforts, she leapt into the air and delivered a wicked Capoeira-style lashing kick to the head that slammed against Doomsday's skull. She felt herself holding back a breath as the beast stumbled from the impact and finally managed to let it out as the gray-skinned behemoth finally tumbled to the ground.

Kara had become well aware that the deep breath flowing through her lungs would be a costly decision. The rapid blood flow would only allow the toxic venom coating Doomsday's bones to coagulate further into her bloodstream. The dosage was a pittance in comparison to the still-recovering wound in her abdomen but she may as well have taken another shot of whisky after just waking up from passing out, the sudden influx mixing with her body's recuperating blood chemistry and making her vision blurry, her lips pale. The chill running down her shoulders into her spinal cord mixed with the surrounding heat to create a bizarre, stomach-turning tableau that left her winded and leaking frigid sweat even as Doomsday returned to his feet.

Swallowing back both her trepidation and a tablespoon or so of bile, she ducked around the massive left hook of her seemingly inexhaustible foe and grabbed the limb by the elbow as it passed by the right side of her head. Taking as much care as she could to avoid the jagged spikes of marrow that lined Doomsday's triceps, she summoned a good portion of her strength to slam the monster into the nearby wall. Newton's Second Law proved itself true once again as the product of Doomsday's impressive bulk and the velocity he was forced to endure let loose a forceful shudder that resonated throughout the surrounding earth, his gnarled, ashen face embedded nearly a full two feet through the original surface. Keeping a firm grasp of the arm of her adversary, Kara put the strength she had to spare into a single-footed front kick that left the ball of her right foot to slam forcefully into the base of Doomsday's spine. The sound of splintering bones were as harsh as the crack of a whip and more than made up for the muffling of the injured monster's howl.

Kara felt the wind being knocked out of her once again as Doomsday set himself free with the landing of a powerful mule kick to her gut. Bloody apertures set to healing were reopened even before she crashed back-first into the surrounding wall and she could feel the warmth against her stomach even as Doomsday moved to loom over her like a rabid dog. Some quick wrist-blocking was the only thing that saved her skull from being caved by the power of her opponent's haymakers but the agony that lingered made it feel as if her metacarpals were preparing to split free of her skin by the time she gained some breathing room by landing a seated upward thrust kick that sent her opponent crashing into the frayed ceiling once again. Her innards seemingly howling at her as she labored to sit back up, she managed to knock the plummeting beast away with a left hook to the jaw that left the still-airborne monstrosity to hurtle away from her while spinning like a half-ton Frisbee.

_This is getting me nowhere_, Kara noted, the irony behind the recognition giving her some gallows humor despite her laundry list of aches, pains, and contusions. Taking a fraction of a second to gauge Doomsday's recovery time, the half-breed charged up what solar energy she could muster in the time allotted and sent it straight at her antagonist. By now the toxic compound running through her veins had begun to circulate through the vessels around her ocular membranes and the added strain from that made it feel like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull but the most surprising reaction of the exchange still didn't come from her. Thinking it to be a trick of the light and her ailing senses, she continued to pour on the power her usually extraordinary senses sullied as it always was when she really let herself go with her Kryptonian-inherited heat vision.

Realizing that something wasn't quite right, Kara chose to cut off the stream well before she had to. Her eyes rapidly shifting between the darkest crimson and the lightest of blues, Kara continued to look on in wonderment as Doomsday continued to lie on the floor. It had not attempted to avoid the assault or even put a concerted effort into defense as evidenced by the livid pockets of bubbling skin along his neck, torso, and upper arms. Of course, it stood to reason that the move was just some foolish posturing but everything that had taken place throughout the battle before made Kara keenly aware that this animal wasn't one for such pointless displays.

The monster had been bloodthirsty, frenzied and violent to the point where Kara nearly gave in to the instinctual need to match its ferocity. Likewise, as Doomsday cowered pitifully on its massive back, the monster's usually narrow, death-laden eyes now lined with utter fear, the daughter of Zor-el felt the need to adjust to this as well.

"What the hell?" Kara mumbled with an understandable degree of disbelief, her body taut but otherwise unmoving as the bizarre exhibition carried on. Then, just as she had been taught, the half-Praxian encouraged herself to look back on the events of the past to determine what could have produced such a bizarre consequence. Her senses looked outward as well as inward, the young warrior analyzing the collapsed ruins of The Fortress of Solitude and the impressively thick rock walls that had easily weathered the frantic activities that took place beforehand. She counted off the wounds and injuries she had suffered and had delivered back in return, her limbs aiding her brain as they silently recounted whatever stimuli it could retrieve. . .

_Wait a second_.

Kara puckered and scrunched her lips as if the tightening of her face would pry open the missing bits of information from her brain. Still, whether or not the literal and metaphorical gesture had a hand in the realization, the eager student drew upon the first theory she came across that seemed to have the slightest sliver of proof.

_My eyes didn't transform all the way before I used my heat vision,_ Kara realized. _Maybe it was because of the poison but I used some magic to make up for what I couldn't summon from my eyes._

Rewinding the previous activities in her mind, Kara realized that the blast that had previously poured from her eyes only held the barest traces of red. The majority of it reflected the same sky-blue shade of her eyes and the ambient heat rising from the core of the earth below had added a tint of yellowish orange that was enough to present something familiar to her but altogether different from a first-hand perspective.

_Okay, _Kara surmised even as the memory of the unusual occurrence was playing back to her from within her mind's eye. _I just fired a blast that just scared the big, bad Doomsday out of his dickens. And maybe this could have been because the beast thought he was about to die but he's only suffering from surface wounds. He'll recover from this in no time._

The recognition didn't help answer the lingering question. Almost unbeknownst to her, Kara began to inch her way forward, pushed on by her curiosity, until she was well within striking range of the shivering monstrosity. Hands unclenched and knees straight, she felt the tip of her tongue briefly straining across her lips before she scratched the pink muscle against the edges of her front teeth.

"All right," she began. "So why are you so afraid of the color green?"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay. So the mission now is to figure out a good, meaty excuse for why this issue is several days late. I mean, there's got to be a decent reason why I would be so remiss with my creative. . . OH! Here we go! Memphis in May! I spent all of last weekend watching STP and Macy Gray and Charlie Wilson and Ludacris and John Mellencamp that I believe I would have done a disservice to my dozens of fans if I did not devote the proper amount of time to this particular artistic medium. Ah, and for those of you who might be asking what I was doing this weekend and why I didn't make up for lost time then allow me to refer you to my digital hand striking the back of your head.

Nothing worse than people getting impatient about somethin' free, I tell ya. . .

* * *

_Issue #124 Preview_

We're getting one step closer to another landmark event in the history of The Misfits but there's still the distinct possibility that the team's three most powerful players may not make it to the occasion. A weakened Lloyd and Stephanie have been all but cornered by their mighty foe and Kara has her own challenges to tackle and mysteries to solve on the way to The Afflicted's most watched-over keepsake from a life long past. Will our three heroes have what it takes? All this and more ghostly acrobats in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Deracinating Grandeur Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	124. Deracinating Grandeur

Issue #124

Deracinating Grandeur

Their unique talents of energy manipulation cancelling out their respective efforts, the battle between Mongul and The Bat had come down to a simple but brutal matter of strength and determination. Minuscule globules of sweat continued to bloom from the tensed muscles around the hairlines of the experienced warriors only for the dewdrop excretions of effort to be sent to sizzling by the surrounding heat as the quivering fingers of the deposed Prince of Warworld crawled ever closer towards Stephanie's bulging neck. Each scrap of a moment left the former Robin at a worst angle to gain any ground and that only served to compound her mounting troubles until the inevitability came as her wrists gave in to the pressure. The bones buckling and fracturing from the strain, she managed to feel the chill rising from her throat as Mongul held her neck in a vice grip, the bright arterial blood that threatened to rise from her nose and throat thanks to her mounting injuries momentarily stifled down and left to bring about a fit of choked blubbers and coughs.

"Do you view me now as something more than a mere distraction, little one? As a bit more than a 'pet'?" Mongul couldn't help but ask his fading quarry. Having more room available for his wishes and desires, the murderer brought the burning energy at his disposal to bear and poured it through his strained fingertips. "Are you still so confident that you had the strength to stop this planet's plague that will linger well after you cease to be?" he continued to wear on while The Bat's neck was scalded and charred with ugly reddish-black welts.

The torment wore on even as The Bat let loose with a double-handed energy blast that slammed against Mongul's gut and sent him hurtling through the stale air. His crocodile's grip was still fervent enough to send his foe soaring and crashing right along with him, his own portion of the impact buffered nicely by his stern chest plate. Seeing the manifestation of a familiar grouping of emerald energy claws from the corner of his eye, Mongul ceased his amusing destruction and swung his arms upward at an angle that allowed him to drive the front of the girl's skull above the gathering of hard rock that loomed above his head. The combined scents of their spilled blood filling his nostrils, he left The Bat hanging awkwardly above him, his left hand still wrapped around the Earthling's neck while continuing to pummeling the girl's head with haymaker after haymaker to the unprotected skull of his adversary.

"A bit awkward but nonetheless effective," Mongul reasoned aloud while continuing to splinter bones and puncture muscles. "It's the same way I killed that braggart of a Lantern. Gardner, I believe his name was," he added over the noise of the wicked impacts. "Of course, the skull of that Earthling had caved in a lot sooner than yours. Perhaps he simply didn't have your constitution."

Tired of taunting a distracted audience, the guardian of The Afflicted's most-treasured keepsake extricated the jumble of blood and bone that was the remains of Stephanie's face. Carting the Earthling about by the scruff of her neckline, he used his spare hand to tear away the tattered remains of the girl's cowl in order to better reveal the extensive damage to his bloodthirsty eyes. He tore free the hard leather with a causal yank before tossing the shroud aside, the mask's pointed ears crumpling along with the rest of the cloth while he observed Earth's broken and beaten champion.

"Or perhaps I've become stronger than even I thought myself to be," Mongul considered. "To bring about such a significant downfall to the greatest of Oa's warriors, perhaps I shall honor this achievement by transforming this hovel into the core of my sovereignty."

Chattering on as he was, perhaps it was with a bitter note of irony that Mongul found his lower front teeth tearing through the tip of his bulbous tongue when The Bat performed an airborne, backward somersault that sent the heels of her feet smashing into the barbarian's jaw. His black blood swimming through his gullet, the alien took in the weighty morsel of humility as he watched the Green Lantern regain a good portion of her bearings before he could recover as well. Looking on as she stood hunched within an offshoot of a Hapkido defensive posture, his keen mind was already set to the quandary of whether he should continue to torture the whelp or extend his mercy and bring an end to this creature's cursed existence.

"You would think that monsters like you would have figured it out by now," The Bat replied, her vocal quality momentarily deprived of the braggadocio that would have been presented by either Mongul or even her past self. "Time and time again you guys step up to the plate with a whole bunch of ambitions and every time you get sent back to the bench either hurt or in pieces while we keep going on."

The ordained Green Lantern of Sector 3814 was then suffused within a blinding aura that bore but a tinge of the emerald light the power was born from, the gesture a signal of how much the warrior had lost and received in return. It was enough to prompt Mongul into taking a step back, both literally and metaphorically, as the brawny alien was all but forced to accept the legacy of what he was attempting to transform into just another part of his lengthy ascendance towards greatness.

"The Earth will remain well after you've two-stepped off the mortal coil, Mongul. Its guardian will make certain of that."

Mongul displayed his own vigor by responding with a contented smirk. "Ah. So you'll abandon this fruitless cause 'over your dead body', as I believe your people would say it? It was Sinestro that taught me of such a saying and he had only known of it because John Stewart chose to spit that out before being given the shameful demise that all of you petticoat enforcers deserve. Still, you may rest assured that you've earned the indignity of much more suffering before I choose to snuff your misguided flickers."

Eldritch claws clashed with gauntlets forged from the ruined flames of Apokolips as Mongul and The Bat continued their even-handed exchange. The both of them displaying the power and grace that had made them more than a suitable match for their respective Kryptonian foils, the pair of determined power players suffered their injuries while continuing to seek the prize of the other's death. The cruel scraping of her adversary's unforgiving gloves was strident enough for the battered skin along Stephanie's jaw to split open until slivers of bone were poking from the apertures. Likewise, the organs and tracts that lay just underneath Mongul's self-made battle armor and his natural epidermis were forced to suffer from the rigors of supernatural heat as The Bat continued to land more and more successful attacks with her own finely-tuned instruments of destruction, her lashes and slashes all combined to attempt to tear the alien apart from both the out and the in. The frenzied combat and the wounds that came with it were finally enough to convince the two veterans to break apart, the both of them clinging far too tightly to life and the ambitions that came with it to submit to the risk of a blind charge or a barbarian's demise.

"How long has it been since the first time you were forced to think about how everything had gone wrong, failed hero?" asked Mongul, his guttural growl deepened by the puncturing and singing of one of his right lungs. "Has it been so far from the present time that you no longer bother to ponder over why the Kryptonian had finally given up hope? Do you still know why The Afflicted will remain after your bones have faded to dust and your soul sullies the fore winds of fate? It's because she came to recognize something that you never bothered to learn. She realized that the war between ambition and peace shall continue for a hopeless eternity no matter what any of us may do."

Finding the strength to rise back to his full height, Mongul regarded The Bat's wounded but fierce scowl and found a sick comfort in the Earthling's acceptance. "Any creature with the capacity for free will shall always come to want more than what is allotted to them or what they deserve or what their respective societies are willing to give them. You claim to fight for justice and equality and other meaningless twaddle while not even bothering to realize that no one asks you to provide it for them. Your old friend recognized how she was being taken advantage of and finally found the wisdom to seek what she could find while leaving fools such as you to suffer for your hubris."

Mongul felt the forceful implosion of his breath rising through his trachea as The Bat crashed her fists into his ribcage with a bone-shattering crash. Struggling to recover himself, the thoughts of the murderer of millions was jarred by a cruelly delivered left hook that floated over his meager defenses before slamming against the left side of his skull. Spinning from the impact until he unwillingly fell to his knees, he could only dimly feel the pain roaring from the tendons connecting his right knee and leg as a trio of blades severed them to the extent where the lower half of his limb was holding on by a literal thread of marrow and sinew.

"Okay. I've heard what you want. I've _been _hearing about what Kara wants! So how about you take some time to hear my piece?"

Mongul was presently in no condition to reply but Stephanie was well past the point of caring. She maintained her even candor while unmercifully burying her claws into her opponent's spinal column. "I wanted a home where I could be happy and safe. I wanted a family that was willing to make me one of their own in spite of the fact that they didn't have a real reason to take me in! I wanted the chance to prove that I belonged."

The Bat retracted her claws and allowed her quarry to surrender to gravity. Watching with gradually approaching serenity as her adversary fell face-first to the desiccated stone, she took the creature's thick, desperate breaths as a solid sign that she still had a conscious audience.

"I wanted a big brother and a big sister that could have watched over me forever," the former Robin continued on, the flat tone failing to hide the note of mourning she couldn't help but play. "Maybe I did ask for too much or maybe I should have asked for more or maybe I could've done a thousand things differently but you have no right to call me a failure. My pride lies in who I was, am, and what I'll become. I wanted the people I protected to have a chance to experience the same contentment that I had and I'll keep fighting for that long after assholes like you watch their sick ambitions fall by the wayside."

To his inestimable credit, Mongul managed to summon the strength to twist his broken body until he was lying down on what remained of his back. "So this is the strength of The Emerald Light," he observed, a tinge of mocking laughter bubbling from his blood-dappled lips. "Little wonder that what you protected took so little to crumble. Are you even aware that you needed the will of what you considered a monster to drive you towards what you're finally supposed to do?"

It took but a thought to shift the blades that extended from her left wrist into a reasonable facsimile of an emerald saber. Taking the spectral hilt in hand, she responded with a two-handed cleave that separated Mongul's head from his shoulders with malicious ease, the supernatural heat resonating from the unique but familiar weapon cauterizing all but the apex of the massive wound that remained behind. Not bothering to sheathe her weapon or even observe the last twitches of her deceased challenger The Bat focused her powers and found what she was looking for with the ease of second nature. She could all but hear the girl's heartbeat, the slowed cadence somehow running side-by-side with the chaotic mess of vibrations that served as the monster's circulatory processes.

_My mission is to eliminate The Afflicted_. _And, like most assignments such as these, there's more than one way to get the job done_, Stephanie recognized while hurtling forward, her energy blade guiding the way.

* * *

"_Super Sonic Racing, come on ya gotta let the fire burrrrrrrrn. Super Sonic Racing, da da dum da da daaaaaaa."_

Lloyd could feel the world threatening to break apart around him as the half-garbled lyrics continued to bounce around his conscious thoughts. His forehead knotted as the distinctive tension of the supernatural battlefield seemed to crash against his very soul, the fury capitulated by the continuous crashing of the mystic _Mugalshir _against the unyielding _Kikuichi-monji. _It took all his years of training and the millennia of experience provided by the mighty Condemner of Humanity for him to simply keep pace so one would presume that his concentration would be devoted fully to his weighty task yet still the lyrics continued to lash back at him with unabated determination.

"_Come on now, Super Sonic Racing, ya gotta let ya feet fly off the ground. Super Sonic Racing, da da da da fire burrrrrrn."_

The Black Dog finally gave in. _"Steph, you better pray to all that's holy or unholy that we don't survive this because if we do then I'm going to kill you."_

The other half of the most dangerous opponent The Afflicted had been forced to take on for nearly half a decade reluctantly brought her muddled melody to a stop. "_Hey. You literally know just as well as I do that this is how I concentrate," _Robin replied from the increasingly slacking safety of Lloyd's body, her soul humming with all the stout obnoxiousness that she enjoyed bringing to the table in times like these. _"Besides, __**I'm **__the one that's doing the heavy lifting here. I mean, you just hand me all this power from our little fusion dance and it's all out of place and you expect me to put Humpty Dumpty back together again while all the king's men are off playing Chinese Checkers."_

It was a credit to Lloyd's diligence and determination under fire that he managed to avoid being rendered limb from limb by The Afflicted's concentrated offense as he was subtly coerced into attempting to decipher the winding rejoinder. _"__**You've **__got the tough job?" _he finally shouted back through their telepathic link as both his and Kara's bodies continued through their motions despite the interference of a surrounding series of tornadoes and other natural calamities. _"I'm the one who's putting his body on the line. And it's not a 'fusion dance'. It is a __**chant **__that takes months to master and years to acquire the emotional connection that would allow the unique supernatural forces to align properly. It is the unique amalgamation of two souls joined through shared hopes and dreams that they could not accrue on their own! Not some McGuffin thrown in by a lazy manga writer that's running short on ideas!"_

"_Blah blah blah ancient forbidden technique blah blah available only for a chosen few yak yak yak hey I just mastered it in about twenty seconds and you were able to do it with Kara after knowing her for about a month," _Robin reiterated while continuing to pull her own figurative weight. "_Hey, has anybody ever told you that you get really prissy whenever you're trying to explain things that you think the other person can't figure out on their own?"_

"_I do not!" _Lloyd priggishly exclaimed.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" roared The Afflicted, the half-Kryptonian harnessing her anger to supply the speed that allowed her to push past her opponent's defenses and slap the _Mugalshir _aside. "Will you look at yourself, Lloyd? Not five minutes have passed and she's already on the verge of turning you into a foolish, blathering twit!"

The vociferous nature of Kara's words failed to take anything away from her concerted efforts to take apart the fused warrior apart by the inches. Now unencumbered by the interference that Lloyd could have provided with his gleaming, silver saber, the peerlessly sharp edge of her katana began to slice through the barest scants of specifically selected portions of Lloyd's skin. The slight pouch of skin above his left eyebrow, the ridges of his forearms, and the borders of his legs and heels. Areas where clusters of thick capillaries and loose skin allowed the blood to flow quickly and waste away. Every maneuver was part of a well-crafted plan to bring her opponents back into the mindset of battle while providing a dose of pain that would simultaneously keep them from concentrating fully. Soon the seconds passed and the flesh of The Afflicted's target was lined with hundreds of shallow slits and scratches that produced a delivery of pain that left Lloyd and Stephanie in a shabby state as they continued to try to shore up their meager defenses.

"I can already smell her panic, lover," The Afflicted nearly cooed as she allowed her overmatched opponents an opportunity to breathe, the satisfaction she gleaned from her sadistic mercy fueling her further. "You've already figured out that she could never be the fighter that I am. She'll never be strong enough to make you what you could be!"

Lloyd was compelled to counter but the impediments of his shared soul kept him from stepping forward yet again. Thoughtful silence had been found where there should have been a loud or at least a sarcastic retort and perhaps it was thanks to the growing inevitability or the fact that it seemed like such an unusual occurrence but he was spurred to speak on. _"She's just trying to get to you, little sis,_" he reasoned to his taciturn comrade-in-arms. "_Come on, she wouldn't be saying these things if you weren't a genuine threat to her."_

The Black Dog didn't need the degree of access he had to Robin's thoughts to realize that his feelings hadn't hit their target.

"_She's right, Lloyd," _Stephanie sharply replied, the complete dearth of defiance or rebellious attitude sticking in her comrade's craw once again. _"I still can't do this. I can act like I can play in the big leagues and I can yammer and I can joke but I'm scared. I'm scared because of how much of what she's saying is true."_

The British half-demon found himself suddenly torn between keeping an eye on his dominantchallenger while turning more of his thoughts towards his suddenly subservient friend. _"What the fuck are you goin' on about? Since when did you ever quit? When did you suddenly become the sad sack who needed somebody to pick them up instead of the other way around?"_

"_I've always been jealous of you. Of both of you," _Stephanie inevitably shouted back, the fury behind her confession failing to hide the hint of weakness she was trying so hard to reign back. _"No matter how hard I try to accomplish everything I want to do, the two of you always trump me. You always make it look so easy and that can drive me up the wall but that's __**why **__I can play the clown even when I'm not to hide behind the jokes. Because I still think that you and Kara and Bruce will always be able to pick me up again if I fall down."_

"_Bloody nonsense," _Lloyd countered over the deafening silence of The Afflicted's knowing smirk. _"I wouldn't be a quarter of who I am now if not for you. The same goes for Kara and Bruce and the rest of us."_

"_Exactly!" _Robin snapped back, the bitter candor now unmistakable. _"You guys are the heroes that I wanted to be. I'm not that person! I may talk about wanting to be the hero but, when push comes to shove, I crack jokes and slide down to the undercard and do nothing as I leave the rest of you to handle the main event. I'm the goof-off. The fuckin' comic relief and maybe I'll just keep sticking with my role until both you and Kara finally get sick of me."_

"Oh, now this is touching," Kara noted, the hatred returning to her delivery within the moment. "At least it would be if it wasn't another lie wrapped up in all her melodrama. Lloyd, she's just saying what she thinks you need to hear so she can keep on shielding herself from accusations! She'll just keep scuttling away from the truth that she's always done more harm than good! Cut off the fusion and break away from her before I'm forced to do something horrible that can't be undone."

"That's enough, Kara!" Lloyd barked back, the half-blood's rising anger and recuperating body delivering another dose of power into his actions. "I'm too blinded to see clearly! Bruce couldn't figure out how to use us! Stephanie twisted us to serve her own desires! When are you going to twirl that circle of blame so that it falls on you, _pet_," he countered, the employment of the long-reviled title stoking the anger of his target. "But, bloody hell, even if you did that you would just find something else to accuse, won't ya? Maybe it'll be your frightful past or your mean daddy or how angry everybody else made you but is it ever going to be about the fact that you had issues and you just never chose to fully deal with 'em?"

"I don't know," Kara tartly replied. "Maybe I'll figure that out by the time you stop dedicating your life to making up for everything your first friend took from the world."

Neither Lloyd nor Stephanie had anything to offer as The Afflicted raised the _Kikuichi-monji _so that it was level to the eyes of its wielder. The churning sky grew calm and the frenetic winds died down to little more than a squall as the silver blade glimmered within the sudden serenity, the power of the ancient weapon mixing easily with the will of its controller to once again make what should have been impossible just another simple act of will. The pale skin on her face now fully healed from the damaging burns of the previous combat, Kara bore the slightest trace of the youthful glimmer that pervaded her features upon first setting foot on the planet she had been destined to ruin. The cruel reminder was punctuated further by the glimmer in those crystalline blue eyes as she brought the hilt of her blade to rest along her left hip, her stance unwavering in the midst of Lloyd and Stephanie's bloodstained and tired defiance.

"His soul resides within me as well," Kara added, the monster with good intentions well aware of how the statement would shake the man she loved. "I can almost hear him telling me to provide the same mercy for you that you gave to him. Do you think that I'm so damaged that it just didn't occur to me until now?"

The fused warrior could do little to nothing to avoid the blindingly fast slice of Kara's long blade as it carved through Lloyd's abdomen, the spray of blood and the spasm of agony not enough to keep the bleeding man from realizing that his lover's move may as well have been taken straight from the playbook of The Silver Coyote.

* * *

_Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into, Stanley._

As her older self pondered over the possibility of butchering a facsimile of her husband, a more emotionally content version of Kara Zor-el wisely chose to shake herself free from the pop-culture distraction while trying her best to focus in on the odd dilemma that life had recently handed her. What had once been a battle that was swelling towards a fever pitch had dwindled down to a cautious silence that left the half-Kryptonian intrigued but still concerned for what would occur after the next break in the proceedings. Of course, her confusion was given no favors when it appeared that her supposedly ruthless enemy seemed to be similarly stymied, the once frenzied beast now looking as if it was taking stock as well.

Two wild animals caught between predator and prey. And, no, the irony of it was not lost on the woman who had murdered hundreds while trapped in the grip of various blinding rages.

After several long seconds where even her heart seemed reluctant to move a muscle, Kara slowly raised her hands from where they had been hovering in front of her waist until her palms stood parallel to her torso. It was a gesture that could have meant anything from a hesitant surrender to a request for peace to a passive baiting for another round of fisticuffs and it didn't surprise the daughter of Zor-el when Doomsday chose to select the last of the available options. She kept her calm as best she could while the hulking monstrosity came after her with quick jabs and fierce hooks, the former Supergirl making no effort to do anything more to defend herself. The roar that assaulted her ears lacked only held a pittance of the ferocity that had been accompanied Mongul's calm order and the time eventually came when the tempo of the fracas diminished once again until the both of them were in another befuddled lull.

_Well, at least for you_, Kara guessed while Doomsday continued to slowly back away, the young warrior beginning to think that she had gotten a hold of some evidence that deserved a bit of consideration. She willed herself to lowering her arms to her sides, jutting her chin out ever so slightly but even that wasn't enough to incite the monster's aggression. Finally, working with the instincts she had tried her best to sharpen over the last handful of years, she quietly focused the solar batteries humming around her ocular membranes. She once again felt the unique gift supplied to her by the blood of Learna and, rather than deny it as she had been taught, she allowed the supernatural energy in her body to join in on the fun. The unique mixture allowed her to twist the slightest portion of her biological makeup so that the crimson glow that would normally rise from her eyes shifted once again to a distinctive emerald hue.

Doomsday's reaction was immediate with Kara's recognition trailing only a hint of a second behind. She took in the sight of the instinctual shivers resonating from the mountain of muscle and sinew and read the meaning of it as easily as one of Jai and Iris's bedtime stories. Uncertainty, anticipation, and uselessness were all rolled into an abnormal parcel of collected thoughts that were ready to be swooped up by anybody with the capacity to pay the least bit of attention but Kara avoided the temptation and dug out what she thought belonged to her.

Well, maybe not the "her" the monster had been anticipating but it wasn't as if there was anybody about to challenge her for the rights to the boatload of fear and loathing so she gathered it to her as calmly as she could.

That duty done, she kept her arms down at her sides with her eyes locked on her selected foe, her short steps allowing her to inch forward. Her first, full step brought forth a violent vision that nearly sent her reeling, a sight of callous cruelty as she observed a memory of her older self incinerating an armless and legless Doomsday. Kara observed the agonizing defiance of the beast and pulled it into the forefront of her thoughts while continuing to edge forward, each movement bringing about another recollection of a grisly and merciless demise.

She was torn apart and gouged upon a thousand blades. She felt her limbs explode as the supernatural force brought into her body became too much for her to bear. She felt her own bones straining from the pressure before piercing through her heart and mind and leaving her to suffer a slow killing by the potency of her own poison. Praxian sorcery corrupted her bestial mind to snapping her own bones and ripping out her own heart. Emerald force beams left her body burning a millimeter at a time until she passed out from the pain well before fate would take her.

Kara finally shut her eyes to bind her thoughts away from the kaleidoscope of misery. Slowing both the rise of her chest and the beat of her heart, she finally managed to bring herself back fully into the world when she was inches away from a beast that was feared throughout the galaxies. A monstrosity that now bore all the aggression of a ragged animal eternally laid low by a cruel and unforgiving master.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry she hurt you so much."

The uncertainty didn't leave Doomsday's movements for a moment as the beast backpedaled another handful of steps until his brawny back crashed into the eastern wall of the cavern. As the monster tried to struggle with the unwanted sensations, Kara was similarly haunted by the remembrance of bright lights, a black car, and a shrouded man of the shadows. A man whose accusations were cruel, self-centered but absolutely on the money and capable of tearing straight through any barrier she could have constructed.

"The Afflicted killed you again and again so you would come back from the grave stronger than before. That way you'd be more a challenge and she'd have another chance to ply her trade. Lloyd was dead so she used you to hone her skills and expand her knowledge of magic by finding different ways to make you suffer."

Doomsday didn't betray any deception that he understood everything that was said but that wasn't quite what Kara was looking for. Swallowing a bitter dose of anger and self-loathing, she extended her left hand, ever so slowly, until her fingertips came inches away from the monster's cheek.

"I'm not the Kara that wants to hurt you," she said softly, the young soldier turned negotiator still quite braced and prepared to weather any backlash that Doomsday may have to provide. "Do you understand that? I'm not her."

The beast sidled to his left to avoid the potential contact once again, the crashes of his heavy steps resonating off of the iron and rock beneath his enormous feet. This time though, the gesture bore a trace of anger and frustration Rising up back to his full height, the gray-skinned behemoth looked down with his narrowed eyes and slowly bobbed his head up and down.

Now it was Kara that found herself taking an involuntary backwards step. At first she had chalked it up to surprise that Doomsday did seem to understand her but it wasn't long that anything she could have gotten from that discovery had been swarmed over by something a great deal more toxic.

_The Afflicted had to have known that Doomsday could understand what was happening to him. She __**knew**__ that and still she experimented on him. Brutalized him. How could she do such a thing after what Father did to us as a child? Why couldn't she understand how wrong this is?_

As indignant as her thoughts had become, Kara had thankfully not been distracted to the point where she could avoid a familiar scent and the accompanying ruffle of an ebony cape. Turning to meet the source of the noise, she was able to twist her sights just in time to see The Bat place her feet back on the ground. A surprising bit of strain came with her efforts, partially thanks to the velocity of the vigilante's travels but also because that her sightline had suddenly been blocked by a massive bulk of gray and black, a snarl rising from a broken but flared snout that reeked of warning.

_Bloody hell, he's trying to protect me! _Kara exclaimed to herself while Doomsday continued his apparent attempts to shield her from harm. Wisely keeping one eye on her new guardian, the fair-haired half-blood took notice of the emerald energy blade in Stephanie's left hand. Briefly considering that, she turned to take on the curious expression on the Gothamite's uncovered countenance. Several silent seconds passed as the Green Lantern seemed to worry herself over one matter and another, her tongue hovering between her teeth, before she shook her head to and fro and retracted her weapon.

"Well, I've got to admit that I wasn't expecting this," the vigilante confessed, her disbelief a mixture of the girl's old cheery optimism and the gloomy certainty of her adopted father. "Do I even want to know what's going on?"

Kara looked straight on at this intriguing interpretation of her longtime friend while sidling to her left. "What can I say? It's kind of refreshing running into somebody that's willing to give me the whole truth," she countered, the caustic mediator shooting a quick look at her unexpected sentinel before waiting patiently for Doomsday to edge aside. "You can keep leading the way to where we need to go but Doomsday will be joining us. On the way, I would suggest answering all the questions I have for you without throwing in all the shadowy speech."

Her guidelines broadcasted, Kara waited patiently for The Bat to consider her options. She continued to look on silently as Stephanie slowly made her way towards a hollowed but naturally-hewn corridor to her left. Fairly certain of the supplied answer, the former lab specimen found herself turning to give another quick nod to Doomsday before moving to follow. The echoes presented by the heavy-footed marching of her unexpected kindred spirit drifting through her ears, she continued to stand between her two compatriots as they journeyed further into the very earth itself.

* * *

The Afflicted hovered just inches over her downed opponent, the sole survivor of countless battlefields casually wiping away the copious streaks of blood that stained the blade of her katana. Briefly regarding the thickly-scented plasma that slid down her fingertips, the warrior woman brought the digits and gave them an experimental lick. She snarled before spitting out the remnants from her mouth and shaking away what remained off of her left hand, the murderer apparently finding little appreciation for the opportunity.

"Last chance, Black Dog," she warned while lowering the _Kikuichi-monji _until it was only inches above the still sizeable incision in Lloyd's gut. "Call off the fusion and give me the little bitch's head on a platter and you can walk or you can just stay there and watch me kill you trying to get to the real source of our problems."

Finding the task of breathing properly to be unexpectedly difficult, the blended bodies and souls of Lloyd Thomas and Stephanie Brown got by with letting out a wet cough as a blob of blood slipped free from its fleshy trappings. "Lloyd. . . you've been lying to me," the combined voice mumbled out while rolling to one side. "There's somebody else in here besides me and The Concussion? You never told me that you had Michael Bay operating a time share out of your left testicle."

The Afflicted let out her frustrations towards Stephanie's bizarre defiance by putting the boots to her adversary, her hasty but dangerous kicks leaving purplish-red wilts against the skin and broken bones underneath. The unhealthy mixture of groans and laughter that emerged from her actions nearly sent Kara's emotions boiling to the point where she could have eliminated the fused warrior with a single blow but the half-Kryptonian took hold of herself once again, her nostrils flaring as she stooped to scoop up the broken mass by the scruff of his shirt.

"You think this is funny? You still think this is nothing but a game?" Kara seethed while shaking about her foe like a rag doll. Then, taking her captive in a one-handed grip, she kicked Lloyd's limp, right arm so that his wrist and adjoining hand and fingers flew above his head. It was just the right angle for The Afflicted to swing her katana and lop off the limb at nearly six inches above the elbow, the spurt of blood that followed briefly running into her hair before gravity left the gore to sputter onto the ground.

"THERE! YOU STILL THINK THIS IS A FUCKING RIOT?" she then roared over the screams. "What more do I have to do to convince you that I'm right? What?"

The Afflicted tossed her tortured victim to the ground once more. Hunkering down until her hips were mere inches from Lloyd's neck, her eyes became pure crimson as she wrapped the long fingers of her spare hand around the apex of The Black Dog's skull. Vessels collapsed and snapped like stomped ketchup packets as she added just a slight percentage of the pressure she could provide. Had she been a better student of her own history, Kara would have recognized that she had unconsciously chosen to mimic a favorite technique of her grandfather when he sought to pluck off the head of a political rival or a military leader in order to best present it to a swarming crowd. And, like Dru-Zod had been so fond of doing, she allowed her hapless victim an opportunity for a short supply of last words.

"Sing _Rock Lobster_ for us."

It was just enough to distract The Afflicted until the fused warrior could summon the strength to lash back with a haymaker that landed squarely against Kara's jaw. A quick act of teleportation brought the bloodied fighters back to their feet and it was only an eighth of a second before an accompanying dose of telepathy brought the _Mugalshir _soaring back into the comfortable grip of Lloyd's left hand. Another quarter of a second and Kara had reached her feet as well only to suddenly be stilled by an unexpected observation.

She had been hit with a right hook.

The question couldn't manage to escape her lips before she saw the answer unfold in front of her. She stood there gawking as Lloyd's right arm was suffused with an emerald glow that pulsed and swirled around the bloody stump. Borrowing from the Oan power ring's talent for generating solid spectral matter crafted to suit the needs of the wielder's imagination, The Black Dog soon found himself equipped with a supernatural facsimile of what he had just lost, the emerald illumination looking odd but somehow suitable against his lightly tanned upper arms. Of course, the light show didn't just stop there as the tender of his body's reservoir of power decided to play around a little more with the millennia of stored demonic energy that Lloyd had received from The Condemner.

"Tada!" Lloyd and Stephanie jointly exclaimed as the spectral limb was transformed into a flesh and blood hand, the newly-formed tendons, bones, and capillaries fusing with the preexisting connecting joints with ease thanks to The Black Dog's supernatural constitution. It was an impressive trick, the feat marred only slightly by the Green Lantern's sudden inclination to dive into her impersonation of first a sea robin and then a narwhal before the battle began anew.

"Yeah, you didn't see that trick comin', did ya?" Robin crowed with The Black Dog's encouragement while she continued to dole out the power and vigor her comrade would need to at least attempt to keep pace. "I may not be able to fight on your level or make my eyes all doe-like but I've still got my own trademark grace under pressure."

As confident as the more energetic half of the fused warrior was, it was The Afflicted that was possessed with the decades she required to hone her own distinctive style and dominance over a crowded theater of war and it was only a matter of time before the spotlight was drawn back to her. Striking out with a similar series of quick, hairline scratches that had earned her so much success before, Kara devoted her unparalleled speed to the task of immobilization rather than weakening or humiliation. Weaving her way through her opponent's stable but comparatively sluggish defenses, Kara used her katana to scrape away at the muscles around Lloyd's elbows and knees. She presented a brilliantly crafted rolling riposte to a spinning lash that presented her with The Black Dog's back and she eagerly took advantage by running the blade across the Brit's trapezius muscles on both sides of his back. Recognizing from the awkward sounding footfalls that followed that she had forced her foe out-of-balance, she whirled the rest of the way so that she could more efficiently ram the blade through the base of the open spine but suddenly found herself accosted by a smoky haze of blue and charcoal.

"BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!"

Aided by the distraction of the longtime vigilante poltergeist, Lloyd employed the power Stephanie brought to bear and rushed through Nightwing's incorporeal form to lash the _Mugalshir _across The Afflicted's slender neck. His target had managed to slide away from much of the assault but the skin and bone he did catch severed easily and raised a slight plume of blood that prompted a pained gurgle to rise from the portion of the throat that remained. Trying his best to finish the job with a double-handed, overhand slash, The Black Dog's impressive ambitions were cut off by the equally stern surface of the _Kikuichi-monji_. As all parties had guessed, the katana's wielder still had enough strength to mount enough of a defense to protect her own head and Lloyd felt himself letting out a gasp as he was thrown upward after Kara chose to break off the crossing class of mystic steel. Recovering himself within an instant, he had enough time to focus his sights and watch as the powerhouse below pitched herself into a backwards somersault before finally coming to a stop and looking right back at him.

"Typical. No sight of you in months but, now that you need me, you won't leave me alone until you get what you want."

"Well, then maybe what I want is pretty damn important," Nightwing replied, the specter's reply devoid of any good humor or traces of mockery. "Damn it, Kara. Think about what you're doing! If you kill Stephanie then there's no telling what will happen to the future! You can't guarantee that Lloyd is going to stay around forever or that you'll find a way to control your power or if anything will be made better or worse."

"Don't tell me that I haven't thought this true. There's nothing left for me but to think!" The Afflicted growled back through gritted teeth. "I walk on these broken fields murmuring wishes that the people I could be cared for would be able to be protected from a world that was out to tear them apart. You drift in this plane of reality with your worthless purpose while I'm left to wonder over how your father could have lived to a ripe, old age rather than being twisted into succumbing to his impossible ambitions! I wanted to see you at peace, Richard! I have all this power and yet there's so little I can truly do for the people that were truly willing to stand with me as I became the guardian that they deserved."

The combat zone once again fell silent save for Kara letting out a deep gasp as if the admission had been a marathon-like effort to complete. "Stephanie was my sister as well. Who's to say that killing her now would leave her happier than she ever could be?"

Demonstrating the camaraderie that was quite pivotal to the concept of shared souls, Stephanie waited patiently until Lloyd had thought that enough dramatic tension had gone by.

"Um, I think Stephanie would have something to say to that," the aforementioned Green Lantern readily replied.

The Afflicted narrowed her crystalline blue eyes in response to the combination of Robin's sarcasm and Lloyd's deadpan delivery. "You don't have any say in the matter," she replied with a similarly blank candor as she flattened the palm of her left hand while pointing her thumb and remaining three fingers towards the dusky clouds. Slowly cutting through the air with her knife-edged limb, she employed the physical motion along with a silent enchantment that split apart Lloyd and Stephanie's union. Drawing from her own experiences, she quickly recognized that the wounds she had inflicted on Lloyd's body would leave him momentarily fatigued so she felt little need to pay attention to his ungainly descent as she caught the similarly wounded Stephanie with her free hand.

The howling "NO!" that spat from her lover's lips gave her heart a painful and unexpected jolt but that didn't stop Kara from plunging her katana into and through Robin's gut until the snakeskin hilt was nearly wedged into the bitch's abdomen. The scent of the Green Lantern's blood turned her nose but the reminder that she was that much closer to her noble duty allowed her to overcome her revulsion.

"KARA! STOP!" Lloyd screamed, his voice racked with the same desperation of a five-year-old child clinging to his dead mother. "Bloody hell, luv. If it is as you say. . . if there's anything left in you of the woman I loved then listen to me! This isn't right! Leave Stephanie alone!"

The Afflicted twisted the knife, both literally and figuratively, as she considered the pointless plea. Then, taking the unconscious girl by the hair, Kara pulled Robin harshly by the neck so that her pained face and utter defenselessness could not be ignored.

"Look at her, Lloyd! This is what you're willing to protect? None of this would have happened if it wasn't for her!"

Lloyd swallowed down the bile that had risen up through his trachea and to the bridge of his lips. "I love her. She's my sister."

With that admission, Kara Zor-el felt true sympathy for the first time in nearly a decade.

"I love you too, Lloyd," she said sadly before turning her attentions fully to the girl who had truly introduced her to this wretched world. "More than you'll ever know."

* * *

"Unfuckingbelievable," The Bat mumbled in wonderment as she continued to serve as the rear guard in this three creature formation that was winding its way down to their unique destination. Now 50 miles below the surface of Antarctica's highest glaciers, the pockets of available space were limited to nothing more than what they could dig out on their own. This, consequently, left them with the problem of limiting any damage they did to Earth's mantle and core and thus the swarthiest member of the group apparently chose to serve as a tunneller with the aid of Kara's guidance and Stephanie's illumination. She had first produced an emerald light but Doomsday's defiant whine and Kara's insistence ultimately persuaded Earth's longtime guardian to break off a portion of the beast's exoskeleton and use that along with a portion of her cape to craft a decidedly makeshift torch that she continued to hold above her tired head.

"What's unfuckingbelievable?" Kara asked back with her back to the vigilante, her eyes still fully devoted to observing Doomsday's work.

Her mask now long abandoned, The Bat found herself blessed with the ability to lazily puff out a breath and watch as it wafted up several rogue strands of her blonde hair. "Oh, a lot of things," she confessed. "Still, I've got to say that you turning one of history's most famously bloodthirsty monsters into your puppy dog is rocketing its way to the top of the list."

The churning of earth and trace metals came to a halt as Doomsday turned around to face Stephanie, the aforementioned "pup" letting out a deep growl that prompted The Bat to quirk her head to one side. The two powerhouses remained in such a stalemate until Kara swooped in to step in between.

"Well, there's another bit of proof that Doomsday can understand some of our language," Kara mused while leveling the hulk's anger with a cautious stare. She continued to hold the glare of her comrade with a peaceful warning until the gray-skinned brute let out a snort before turning away and returning to his chosen work. "Furthermore, he's just as much of a victim of The Afflicted as you claim to be. Now maybe that's not the best excuse for an alliance. . ."

"I got it. Don't worry," The Bat insisted, her right hand raised in a gesture of surrender. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that good stuff." The vigilante seemed to need a moment to think those words over, her head lightly bouncing back and forth over the course of her ponderings. "Wow. The return of The Great Negotiator," she then added with a chuckle. "Gotta say that I've really missed that part of you."

Kara replied with a slight nod, accepting the compliment. "Well, I'm not the Kara you know," she then couldn't help but mention, her rejoinder leaving The Bat to once again run through her thoughts in silence. "You realized that when you decided not to kill me when you found me in the tunnels."

The Bat nodded knowingly, the Green Lantern apparently trusting the slight motion to provide enough of an answer to her guest's suspicion. "I've spent too much of my life resorting to the easy way out."

Kara dipped her head in return, uncertain about what to do with the shifty admission. "Then answer the hard question. What else happened that brought the world into something like this? I mean, I know you said that you can't point to one, specific event but now we're banking on one, specific thing to help save the day."

Stephanie chuckled in spite of herself, the slight sound nearly completed blotted out as Doomsday continued to flay away at his unique penitentiary. "Why not just ask what's really on your mind, Kare Bear," she offered, the moniker sounding a little less weird to The Bat after several hours of cohabitation. "What reason do you have to trust me?"

Despite Doomsday arriving near the end of his self-selected task, Kara still chose to keep her eyes to the task of watching the destructive procession. "The thought has crossed my mind even before the whole death possibility," she confessed. "Just because my older self may be a villain doesn't necessarily make you the hero of this story."

"That's quite the fact," The Bat acknowledged. "It's also true that I'd have had a pretty damn easy time of killing the both of you back there and I don't necessarily need you alive to get what I want out of this. However, if you're still keen on trusting me, I'll freely admit that it's been a long time since I've considered myself a 'white hat'. Never been a big fan of black though. Maybe I'm more of a kicky, suitable sort of grey that just stays in style forever."

Kara offered back a gentle smile. Stephanie smirked at the fondly remembered remark in response, cut out the middleman, and swept her right hand up to bring her out-of-control hair back into a relative state of order.

"Okay. In the future, you're going to have a choice to make when Lloyd finally starts knocking on death's door. The Kara that I know could have taken a disturbingly-deserved vacation from all the insanity and let somebody else hold the weight of the world but she chose to keep on the path of the good soldier. She went to take on Darkseid with Donna and a whole bunch of others and left Lloyd and everything else she really loved behind. Again, maybe it was just the fact that it was Darkseid or maybe she was just terrified of watching something so strong crumble but I always thought it was a little bit of both. She was just. . . one of those people who was happy with what she had so long as nobody took anything away from where she thought it should have been."

Trying to avoid the quaintness of having her own dilemmas doled out from such a perspective, Kara felt a hitch in her gut but managed to push through it. "Okay. So she just kept fighting even when she didn't have to. That was what she thought was the right thing to do. So what did _you_ think about that?"

The Bat raised her eyebrows, the older woman both impressed and surprised at the youngster's acuity. "Kara was my friend and the person who kicked my ass in the training room on a weekly basis. I believe I know her pretty damn well and, because of that and a lot of other things, I understood why she wanted to fight. What _pissed me off _is that she wasn't up for fighting a battle she knew she couldn't win. Lloyd was going to die no matter what she did but that wasn't what she was willing to accept so she ran away from it and left us to take on another war instead of staying behind to clean up."

The mere idea of it clearly aggravated the willful creature but, recognizing her responsibility, she continued her tale as Doomsday's massive paws began to tunnel through an increasingly lighter surface.

"Sooooooo when Kara left Lloyd on his death bed I decided to try and pick up the slack when it came to the tender loving care department. Naomi gave him about five months when Donna's call came so we traveled as much as he was able to in the months he had left. Sort of filling out our own personal bucket lists, y'know? Still, that span of time can be an eternity in our little community of busybodies. In the weeks after Lloyd died, rumors began to surface that he and I had had an affair and I was ready to laugh that off to a handful of people and just say 'fuck you' to everybody else but Kara wasn't satisfied with either of my approaches. Add that to the fact that I was too pissed off about what she did to care about what she thought and everything just started rolling downhill."

The silence brought about by Doomsday ceasing his excavations only compounded the awkwardness the two women had come to share. The Bat had cast her eyes to the rubble along the tunnel, anger rising in her pale, blue eyes as she seemed embittered that the sadness had gotten to her and that seemed to be enough to convince Kara to not ask for anything more.

"But did you?"

Well, except for the obvious question. To her credit, Stephanie looked back at the bizarrely pleasant memory that had popped up on her metaphorical doorstep and responded without a hint of a flinch.

"You know Lloyd. He was the most loyal person that either one of us had ever known. Hell, all that stupid stubbornness was the reason why the both of us commitment junkies latched on to the dope in the first place. Of course, we both know that the downside to that loyalty is what happens to him when he thinks that he's been betrayed. It kept him from being at Mao's side when Vincent killed him and it's the source point for most of the fuck-ups he ever made in his life. So, in exchange for everything he had done for me, I made sure that he finished life the way I think he would have wanted it."

As was often the case for people who tried their best to keep their anger from controlling them, Kara felt the instinct of rage but found it overcome by recognition. The heat flowing through her veins mixed in deeply with the cold pit of her stomach until she could see reason through the steam.

"You turned him down."

"I turned him down. He didn't speak to me for a couple of days but, after that, we were back to the way we always had been and we stayed that way until his dying day. Kara came back, we had our tiff and the monsters that always wanted to strike us at our weakest were given just that opportunity. Wally went down trying to protect the JSA from Krona and Bruce died saving Gotham and any chance that we had of putting things back together faded right along with them."

Kara let out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding. Staring blankly at The Bat's amazingly neutral expression, she nearly startled as her eyes were suddenly flooded by a wave of electric light.

"And here we are," The Bat reported, her eyes already scanning the expansive space that Doomsday had uncovered. She silently invited Kara to look around as well at what appeared to be a decently maintained shelter festooned with architecture that mirrored the deepest bunkers of Krypton itself. Cerulean crystals rendered dry by the intense heat lined the vast room in all corners but the center was dominated by an 8 foot-by-10 foot vault. An analysis made long ago by her ring clearly indicated a labyrinthine machination of eldritch incantations hovering around the seemingly innocuous mausoleum and a halfway-healed burn that still remained on her right shoulder had provided Stephanie with a clear indication that whatever was inside was not intended for her. She was planning on telling Kara as much but the half-Kryptonian had already skirted around Doomsday and made her way towards their destination, the distinctive hum of the surrounding energy bubble providing a distinct warning that no one else was allowed.

As for Kara herself, she was fairly certain that The Bat had said something but she felt no reason to pay it any mind. Angling her heart-shaped face towards the green-screen scanner to the left of the vault's entranceway, she waited with as much patience as she could muster as the ages-old equipment roared to life to perform its single purpose. Several seconds more and the door slid aside, the whirring of the access buzzing through her ears but proving as no distraction towards her quest to retrieving the _Mugalshir _and leaving whatever godforsaken hell this future had become.

No one could answer the questions she had, after all. Then again, if anyone did have the slightest possibility of doing so, it would be what truly sat inside this catacomb, the failed burial chamber of Lloyd David Thomas where The Black Dog sat silently but somehow still alive.

* * *

_Issue #125 Preview_

Five years, over a million words, and a whole lot of bad jokes and smashing of the fourth wall bring it all down to this. Of course, what will be the end for some will only mark a new beginning for others and maybe what has fallen could bring illumination for those blinded by anticipation. It's the give-and-take that makes life worth living. . . or the final blow that can snuff it out.

Next time. . . Paving Intentions. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	125. Intentions and Epiphanies

Issue #125

Intentions and Epiphanies

Kara was longing for a silent situation, an opportunity where she could simply say nothing and just take in what was going on around her.

After all, what could you say to the sight of the aged, decrepit, and withered transformation of the man she loved, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as the unconscious tremors of meditation and sleep quaked through him. His already slender arms now shriveled to a near-skeletal state after what she could only assume to be years of forced starvation, Lloyd's wide but hollow cheekbones were clearly visible through his nearly translucent skin. His breathing was shallow and hitched even to her ears and was far more subdued than the anxious gasp that escaped her lips upon first catching sight of him. Eager to hide any instinctual revulsion she might have held, she wisely chose to focus on the scraps of black cotton that passed for his shirt, her eyes watering as she recognized that the material remained still even as Lloyd's lungs pushed outward and revealed the thin ribcage pitifully shielded by atrophied flesh.

It was all wrong. The deathly silence, the skin pockets hanging off bones where her lover's powerful leg muscles had once been, and the black-as-night circles that hung below Lloyd's eyes. Horribly, dreadfully wrong.

"Bastard, fucking sons of bitches!" Kara heard The Bat exclaim with a furious spit, the older woman's quick steps causing alarm bells to go off in her head. Her very soul seemed to be screaming at her for remaining still but the half-Kryptonian was far too strong to deal with that while weathering the burden that she wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't supposed to happen to someone who had tried so hard to snap the chains of her self-constructed confines. She had tried too hard and was willing to sacrifice far too much for this to be the sum total of her remuneration.

"_Is this where it all began to slide downhill?" _she wanted to ask the madwoman that she seemed destined to become. _"Did you see everything here as I did and start to think that there's no use carrying on the struggle? Does it somehow just keep getting worse from here? How could it? How could you think that it wouldn't?"_

No answer came back, of course. The questions had never left her lips and her eyes were rooted to the spot where The Bat splayed the fingers of her right hand onto Lloyd's bare chest. She looked on with cautious silence as the tiny digits brightened and energized within an unusual illumination that seemed to pass through Stephanie and into the ailing frame The Bat had swept into her gentle grip. The combination of purple and indigo lights continued to linger even after the vigilante had gently settled The Black Dog so that he was lying on the ground, his head supported by The Bat's folded legs. More warnings began to surface in Kara's cerebral cortex as she observed the elder Stephanie prying open Lloyd's pale, cracked lips with her left thumb and index finger while digging her right hand into one of the pockets of her utility belt. The gauntlet-covered arm emerged holding a thin, titanium canister bearing a nearly scentless substance that The Bat began to force down Lloyd's throat.

_Water_, Kara realized, the young champion finding herself perturbed that she even had to put that particular "two-and-two" together as the clear liquid passed down Lloyd's trachea. Some of the longest seconds of her life wore on before those small, horribly thin hands lifted slowly upward to stop the forceful intrusion, the quivering bits of bone and flesh that were Lloyd's fingers eventually wrapping around the decanter as he began to chug the water down with desperate determination. Reality soon caught up with the illusion though and it wasn't long before Lloyd brought the bottle down to his chest while letting out a raspy series of coughs, thin rivulets of water escaping the sides of his lips even as Stephanie swooped him upward into a gentle but unyielding embrace.

The blood continued to drain from Kara's face with every fraction of a second her ears were assaulted by The Bat's relieved laughter, the hitched, hiccup-like chortles sounding as if the vigilante's throat had grown unfamiliar with the motion and was surprised to be performing it so suddenly.

"What? What is this?"

The Bat kept a firm hold around her big brother while wisely erasing as much of the humor that she could from her face before turning to face her benefactor. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before," she said with a frighteningly acute degree of honesty. "I wasn't really sure what I'd find here until I found it and I didn't want to get your hopes up."

Despite her astonishment, Kara couldn't help but knit her eyebrows in a rather sardonic fashion. _"You didn't want to get __**my **__hopes up_" was the counter she was momentarily tempted to provide but the half-Praxian demonstrated her good will by tabling that particularly snide remark. The slow lifting of Lloyd's eyelids was what eventually tempted her into edging forward. Feeling not unlike someone stumbling in the dark looking desperately for a familiar sight or marking, it was the familiarity of those hazel eyes that finally compelled her to slide over to Lloyd's left, the speed of her travels bringing a hint of a familiar smirk onto Stephanie's lips.

"Look at this, Lloyd. You finally manage to get your ass up out of bed and you've already got two pretty ladies fawning all over ya. All things considered, you really are a lucky bastard."

Several months shy of his 41st birthday, Lloyd David Thomas looked up at these two very distant representatives of the people who held the biggest claims to who he was and smiled with as much strength as he had.

"'M sorry," he managed to get out with a hoarse whisper before he was shushed by Stephanie butting foreheads with him, the tips of her blood-crusted hair wafting against his ears.

"Shut up, you stupid little twit," The Bat replied without a hint of aggression, the cold, terse tone she had adopted with the times that had come and the uniform she wore already risking permanent desertion. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the younger Kara briefly stretching her left hand forward, the comparative youngster clearly conflicted over how she was supposed to handle whatever the hell was going on around them. A portion of her heart reached out to the girl but a slightly larger portion of The Bat found herself quite content when the warrior with the bright, blue eyes ultimately pulled away.

_Smart girl, _Stephanie couldn't help but think while biting back the bitter aftertaste of her satisfaction. _This isn't the man you love or the boy you want to share your bed with. Don't confuse the two. Don't start thinking that this is already set in stone. _

The assurances were all crafted and ready for use but another portion of her thoughts kept Stephanie from presenting them to the person who earned them. Instead, The Bat returned to the true business she had resigned herself to handle just as Bruce would have done. Pressing her fingertips against Lloyd's clammy chest, she continued to supply another gentle surge of supernatural energy from her own reservoirs, the violet-colored tendrils coursing their way through the Brit's veins as if the streams of muscle were a familiar route slowed only briefly by time.

"That's right. Just like riding a bicycle, Puppy," The Bat said assuringly, the adult part of her grimacing at the employment of the old nickname even while the half that still wished she had held on to all her newspaper clippings capered and cheered. Subduing the unnecessary emotions, the caped heroine hastily reached into another pocket of her utility belt to retrieve another water canister. "Lloyd, I know you're barely with me here and everybody's got a shit ton of questions but. . ."

The former scion of The Condemner silenced Stephanie's driven delivery with a simple nod of his tired head.

"I know, Steph. I know what you're here for," Lloyd replied as he raised his left hand so that his splayed fingers would hover over his heart. Shutting his eyes, the scars along his desiccated lips rubbed against each other harshly as he mumbled the distant but still remembered words. Casting a guilty glance at Kara for an added dose of motivation, the cunning veteran of the supernatural allowed the stale air to escape his lungs through the crack of his lips until it seemed to flow against his fingertips. Dipping into Stephanie's care package with a well-practiced ease, his exhalations became broad and distinct even as he felt the two halves of his spirit tearing themselves apart. Sighing gently as the borrowed portion of himself left his body with only an instinctual degree of resistance, he continued to concentrate as much as he could until the energy around his left hand gathered into the form of a gleaming, silver saber.

The thin, filmy globules of blood that had been building in his throat and the roof of his nasal cavity were shaken loose as Lloyd let out a desperate series of coughs, the crimson liquid staining Kara and Stephanie's already marred hands as the magician's body was painfully forced forward. "Calm. . . _a-cough, kaff_. . . calm down," he managed to mumble out past the concerned looks, his words even managing to stifle the rumbling steps of the last creature standing. The three that were stooped down all took note of the sudden notion but it was Lloyd who had finally responded with a throaty chuckle. "Yes, you too, Big Bad. No need to worry about me anymore. You've done your part by pointin' 'em in the right direction."

Both the rejoinder and the conclusion that came with it prompted The Bat to hastily turn her sights back to her longtime comrade. Her eyes wide with surprise, she still managed to play to the patience of her detective's instincts, her wild heartbeat soothing for the moments until she chose to drag out her words.

"You replaced me." The words could have been accepted as an accusation but the good-natured temperament that had defined Stephanie's teenage years seemed determined to overstay its welcome and brighten her tone. "Lloyd, you clever little son of a biscuit. . . you managed to tame hiAAAACK!"

The playful accusation was cut decidedly short as Doomsday, apparently not at all approving of the description of how his loyalties had been earned, let out a roar that banged and echoed against the thick lead and titanium. Thankfully, it didn't appear that the twisted blight of science was looking to stamp home its point any further, literally or metaphorically, and The Bat was soon able to shake away her jitters and look back at her unexpected prize. "This is. . . I mean, I always thought they might pull something like this off but I never. . . Lloyd! She didn't know, did she?"

The sparkle of mirth that rose in Lloyd's eyes snuffed itself shut. "No. Not about me reaching out to her tackling dummy and certainly not about what happened to the vault after the fight with Grayson. Still, that whole matter is a long story and, to be frank, you've got a lot more important things to worry about at the present time."

Not needing any instruction, The Bat presented as cocky of a smirk as she could muster while easily plucking the _Mugalshir _from her brother's feeble grip. "All right. I'll leave you with Doomsday and Ka. . . ra. . . Wow, it just caught up to me how odd it was to throw that sentence out there."

"Just _go," _pressed Lloyd, his lower back muscles popping as Stephanie's magic continued to revitalize his aching bones. "The only thing that will stop The Afflicted now is if we make certain that she realizes the truth. All of it."

The Bat cocked her head to one side. "Don't start telling me things that I already know," she countered knowingly. "I mean, you've been coaching from the sidelines for how long now? I'm the veteran of the battlefield here."

The last of Earth's Lanterns offered no room for a proper contradiction as she began to hurtle through the cavalcade of passageways that Doomsday had constructed, her dexterous travels soon leaving the unusual trio left with little more than the strands of emerald energy left in the former Robin's wake. Being both the halest and the heartiest of the lot, it was only natural that Kara would be the first to break free from the confusion but even that only led the daughter of Zor-el back to continuing her keen search of the man that lay adjacent to her. Still, it was quite apparent that the last of Britannia's children wasn't about to rebuke Kara for her rudeness as Lloyd risked another lingering glance. While she may have been covered in grime and grit, her abdomen still torn and bleeding and the base of her nose sullied with rivulets of snot and sweat, the sight of this pleasant memory still served to scratch an itch that he had no business touching.

Of course, it had always been temptation and the suspicion that came with it that doomed them before? Were both toxic emotions now buried so deep within his psyche that he couldn't even be properly blamed for his crimes? Nearly a decade of starvation and the barest survival through supernatural nourishment made discovering the right question an outright impossibility.

"Sorry."

Kara, completely strapped of even the simplest way of a proper response, slowly slid her head first to the left and then to the right. "I've got a lot of questions," she confessed with painstaking hesitance. "Still, I'm starting to think that you're not the right person to ask for the answers."

Lloyd offered back a smile that could have been anything from winsome to morose. "I have been out of it for a long while, pet," he admitted in return before fully turning his attentions toward the act of recovery.

* * *

Perhaps it was merely the urgency of the moment that gave The Afflicted pause. Maybe the monster that Kara Zor-el had nurtured and tempered over the course of over seven decades still possessed the slightest sense of fair play and was choosing to satiate that barely remembered urge by casually tossing the younger Stephanie Brown instead of extinguishing the bothersome pest with a simple twist of her right wrist and ending the problem altogether. The merest possibility that the source of so much of her loss and suffering had been tied down by fate was simply far too alluring to avoid. Even to a woman whose tastes had once been refined by the finest cuisine craftsmen throughout the galaxies, it was impossible for her to resist the metaphorical filet mignon after having spent so long resigned to the task of gnawing away at bones and gristle. The taste of the violence and the unique seasoning of just who she would be punishing was overwhelming, the anticipation leaving her supernatural energy to percolate through every molecule.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, the champion and brute that the fair-haired Gothamite had become held fast to her own theory. It was a conclusion drawn from the certainty of decades of detective work and the stubborn pride that had run roughshod over her thoughts well before Bruce Wayne could ever have interfered with it. The Bat knew that the umbrage she presented by taking a firm hold of the gleaming, silver saber in her right hand would play against The Afflicted's possessive nature. The mystic blade would be viewed as nothing less than another thing taken from her old friend after Kara had convinced herself that it was to be hers and hers alone and, oh, how Kara hated it when things failed to go her way. Yes, it was a resentful form of inspiration but Stephanie clung to it as tightly as the leather-bound hilt of the _Mugalshir_, the blade that coupled with the conflicting memories of the past in an attempt to bridge the gap in power and skill that the former Robin had always suffered when compared with the last of the Kryptonians.

"Aw, yeah," the younger Stephanie remarked with false bravado while The Black Dog helped her slowly get back to her feet. "Shit just got real up in this bitch."

A maelstrom of crimson-colored energy marked the start of it, the utter devastation released from The Afflicted's eyes met nearly halfway by The Bat's explosive rejoinder. The shockwave that arose from the impact was nearly enough to send the battle's tired spectators skyward but Lloyd and Stephanie managed to stay rooted to the spot with a jointly-created force barrier.

"What the hell is that?" the younger Stephanie roared over the cacophony from within the safety of the green-and-silver supernatural bubble around her. Interestingly enough though, the surprised shout wasn't due to the long-familiar sight of a blistering energy duel but rather with the details of what her elder self had brought into play. Rather than a sheer, green wave of energy, The Bat had summoned forth a vibrant gale of eldritch mastery, the storm awash with not just green but a mixture of red, blue, yellow, and a cornucopia of mixing shades in between them. The unexpected display was further punctuated by a booming noise that sounded like the drumming of a gong as the two opposing swells continued to clash, the seemingly endless hues of The Bat's contribution making it look as if an endless supply of differently colored molecular sentinels were waging war against The Afflicted's remorseless tidal wave of death and destruction.

"_Just another clue about the future," _The Bat somehow managed to telepathically fire back over the havoc, an unmistakable hint of pride seeping through her subtlety. _"There's going to come a time when all the will in the world isn't going to be enough. You're going to have to embrace everything: the love and the fear and the compassion and the hope. Maybe you'll find a way to do it better than I did. Maybe that'll make things a whole lot better than how it turned out for me."_

As confusing as she knew it would be to Robin after the majesty she had been privileged to witness, fate was kind enough to provide The Bat with proof of her observations as The Afflicted tore herself away from the energy duel to appear at her unprotected back. Caught in the struggle of cutting off the flows of energy before it seared away the ruins of the former Amazonian kingdom, the elder Stephanie was completely unable to avoid the double-ax handle to the back of her neck that sent her crashing speedily to the ground below. The shockwave that bloomed from the vigilante's collision with the dead soil rang out for over a mile in all directions and proved to be just enough to jar her brother's blade from The Bat's crocodile grip. She could feel the anxiety of her younger counterpart as she attempted to rush to her aid and breathed out a silent thank you to The Black Dog as he held her back.

"Please tell me that I'm not the only one who can appreciate what's going on here," The Bat managed to hear through her dirt-caked ears as she dimly made out the sight of The Afflicted floating just meters above her. Taking what anger she could from the mocking words, she continued to clumsily claw back to her feet despite her shattered right knee and the deep cuts that lined her forearms that were gushing enough blood to bring her hands to trembling. It wasn't before another sound, the clang of snapping metal as her old friend shattered the _Mugalshir _with a harsh stomp when she saw the wisdom in just giving up her efforts altogether and allow herself to fall back to the ground.

As one may have expected, the capitulation of her most consistent enemy did little to interrupt The Afflicted's train of thought. "Look at this, Stephanie. How long have you been planning this out? You spent years stretching the limits of your ring past its limits, doing everything you could to try and remain relevant but here I was able to stop you before you could even blink an eye."

Stomping on The Bat's right wrist for good measure, the hunter's smile inched slightly higher as The Afflicted scooped the shattered remains of her oldest friend and held her by the neck. She had shut her eyes in response to the overwhelming satisfaction drawn from the sound of The Bat's clavicle bones being split in two until the sharp edges punched through the skin. The blood that coated her fingers was accepted like the well-earned reward Kara had convinced herself that it would be, the sensation prompting her to shut her eyes and focus on it to the point where even she was heedless to the supersonic travels of a raging beast. She vaguely felt the sharp bones scratch against the right side of her face as she was forcefully brushed aside but her attention remained focused on watching The Bat crash and crumple against the ground even while she was also forced into a messy crash against the scrabbled soil. Leaping to her feet before her body had could come to a complete stop, The Afflicted casually met the haymaker that followed with an elementary palm-block that shattered the bone claws heading straight for her neck. .

"Bad puppy," The Afflicted said simply before swatting Doomsday aside with the flattened back of her left hand. The force was a fraction of what she had grown use to administering to the beast when he became unruly and it soon became apparent to her that she should correct the extent of her mercy. Hurtling after the beast with the same casual, lazy thirst for blood that had been festering within her since her first, cold-blooded murder, the war veteran was only meters away from catching up with her out-of-control prey before she was hammered to the ground once again by a diving clothesline that may as well have been stolen straight from her own impressive arsenal. Restoring herself before the attacker could manage to draw back their fist, The Afflicted snatched the extended right knuckle of her younger self and pressed down hard, her clench all but grinding the stern bones she found into a collection of slivers. She expected a bit of ironic humor from the sharp whine of agony and the look of anguish that radiated over the stripling's blood-stained cheeks but Kara soon grew perturbed about it and tossed her younger counterpart aside before she ended up doing something that they would both regret.

"Why can't any of you understand?" The Afflicted screeched after shattering The Bat's jaw with a slicing kick to the face and using her heat vision to burn away Doomsday's left arm. "Doomsday may just be a rabid monster and The Bat is just blinded by how important she thinks she is but nothing else has to be the way it is!"

Knocking her younger self unconscious with a well-placed strike to Kara's carotid artery, The Afflicted now had nothing left in her way to making her way to Lloyd and the younger Stephanie. Though now in decidedly better shape than their erstwhile comrades, the both of them seemed far less eager to put up any kind of resistance.

"You get it now, don't you?" the murderer beseeched, the desperation in her words turning what should have been a question into an outright plea. "I want to make this world a better place with better people in it," she proclaimed while placing her feet on solid ground, the tips of her toes just inches away from the front of the barrier. Gritting her teeth in a cautious but hesitant smile, she slowly stretched forward the vacillating fingers of her right hand.

"I know we can make it better, my love. We can help everyone understand what they need to do. I. . . I don't want to kill _her_. It's just. . . it's the only way I can make anyone listen!"

"I'm listening."

What remained of The Afflicted's fortitude crumbled with just those two words, her already hesitant mannerisms grinding to a standstill. Her crystalline, blue eyes filled up from the hope and dismay until she thought them to be as wide as the stars even as a fleeting, desperate portion of her pleaded to believe the truth to be just another trick. She knew her senses wouldn't lie though and that realization was enough to strip away her self-deceit, the supports of her neurological scaffold cracking and crumbling until all she could see was the nightmare of her own creation. Blood and love and sweat and life and death and betrayal and good intentions and horrific results all designed for a dark truth that turned out to be another lie.

The weight of it was too much for her to hold, her knees already buckling and the rest of her ready to fold to the ground until those arms came to claim her. Oh, how she missed those arms and how they could hold her through the nightmares and how her own possessive limbs would ensnare him in return. Her memories exploded with shushed whispers and offerings of strength and safety that she had gladly given in return to the point where she couldn't even begin to think of the meaning behind it all. Instead she turned swiftly to bury her tear-stricken face into her husband's chest, feel the sharp outline of his shoulders and torso against her cheek, run her fingers along his deathly gaunt arms and letting out a mournful gasp at the thought of what the both of them had become.

"I'm listening," Lloyd replied, over and over again as his pale fingers sifted through the thatches of blonde hair that remained on his wife's head. As was so often the case, he desperately wished he had been clever enough to say something more thoughtful or reassuring or more deserving of the treasure who received it but life seemed to have never gotten around to equipping him with such a valuable talent. Left with no better alternative, he settled into merely holding the woman he loved, reassuring her through a litany of hoarse apologies and garbled statements and hope that it would be enough.

"Wow, um. . ." mumbled a voice that bore a sweet familiarity to Lloyd's ears despite the potentially damning circumstances. "I. . . I don't know where to even begin here."

The elder Lloyd pressed his right palm against the small of his wife's back, a gesture that had long soothed her when the long-stored anger threatened to get the better of her. Years of missed guesses and false presumptions had taught him to anticipate the best, worst, and everything in between but it soon became apparent that not even Robin's interference could rouse the murderous madness that had been left to fester in the soul of The Afflicted. After so much time spent submersing his own emotions, the plethora of sensations buzzing through his tired mind proved to be both a blissful and impossibly stressful experience. Still, never one to shy away from being bossy, he made due by holding his wife tightly even as he regarded the younger counterparts of himself and his little sister.

"Since when did lack of knowledge ever get in the way of your jabber?"

"Well, you might be able to imagine how we might be a little slack-jawed," noted the younger version of Lloyd, the half-demon noticing that Robin was occupied with holding back both a self-conscious chuckle and a slowly creeping blush. "I mean, we were told by all parties that you were. . . well. . . Bloody, buggerin' hell, I'm talking to myself here."

Deprived of the guidance of The Condemner, the elder Lloyd saw no qualms with providing a gentle smile. "There were only a handful of people that knew I was still alive, less so now I imagine." The gentleman seemed more than prepared to offer more but the hitched breath that collided harshly with his chin quickly brought Lloyd back to looking after his lover.

"I didn't know," said The Afflicted, her hands still wrapped firmly around Lloyd as if breaking apart from the magician was an insurmountable effort. "I didn't know," she repeated, her tone achingly soft this time as she buried her face back into her husband's sunken chest, the tears pouring from her eyes further ruining the already-tattered remains of the man's shirt. "I thought we had finally won. I thought. . . I thought that we had finally beaten them."

Still finding himself decidedly out-of-practice, Lloyd found that the simple gesture of pressing his lips against Kara's left ear proved to be enough to cut off her mumblings. The strength of the embrace escalated just slightly but even that mild strain was enough to tax his fragile frame and he slid his left hand up his wife's back as a silent signal that he could only take so much in.

"It was true that Kara had used her cousin's vault to store the _Mugalshir_ after she had taken it from Grayson. It made sense, after all. The vault was lined with lead so whatever was inside would end up being something she didn't have to see and it was a small matter to alter the security programs to make it so she would be the only one to have access to it. Of course, the problem with going so far as to making certain that only one person can find something is that it's often just a small matter for someone else to find the paper trail that's left behind."

The younger Lloyd bobbed his head up and down. "So you're saying that somebody else broke in without The Afflicted's knowledge," he guessed, the half-demon now decidedly uncomfortable with referring to the sobbing mess perched in the grip of his older counterpart by her birth name. "They stuffed you in the vault too and left you in there until we got you out."

"All right, but who in the hell is _they_?" Robin asked, her face screwed up as if it had been distorted by its owner's explosive impatience. "God damnity fuck, everybody just keeps on dropping these vague expressions but nobody says any names! There's barely any times! What the hell are we supposed to be looking for?"

Once again stuck with expressing a long-forgotten rejoinder, the elder Lloyd offered a sad frown to the Green Lantern in the hopes that it would suffice as a gesture of sympathy. "Well, did you ever get around to asking if there was a person to look for? If there really is an event for you to wait on?" Lloyd asked back, his lips drawn up from his wife's collarbone. "Robin, the fact of the matter is that I can't give you that information. Nobody can. It's like anticipating what the person on the other side of the chess board will do 100 steps before they do it. You can guess and analyze and observe the patterns but there's no guarantee that anyone's guess will be right until the time comes to bring your course into motion. What you'll be facing is a cunning beast that thrives on action and reaction, one who may not even be the same opponent at one turn than it was in the last."

The younger Lloyd, focused as he was on watching his older self while the gentleman crafted his explanation, suddenly found himself tempted to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "All right," he then cautiously began. "So who is 'they' to begin with? Do you know who is pulling the strings during the time that we return home? Is. . . does this go beyond even Luthor?"

The man with his arms wrapped tenderly around the woman that had doomed the world responded to the wise venture with a wry grin. "It's the answer to the oldest question that's ever been asked, little half-demon. _Cui bono_? Who benefits? What is there to gain from absurdly powerful maniacs continuing to wage war with one another under the banners of justice and villainy? In a world where there's so much chaos and death and destruction and imbalance, who benefits from existing in a battleground that so many people want to change but have no real idea on the how?"

"The people who profit from others' pain," Robin replied, the showing of quick astuteness drawing the attention of those around her. "But that could be anybody! I mean, people involved with defense contracts, insurance managers, government heads. . . Hell, even us costumes and capes get something out of all of this! You're saying we should go after them?"

"But who is to say that they won't see you coming?" countered the elder Lloyd. "After all, we're talking about people that have had thousands of years of training when it comes to getting what they want. They've got the time to plot and plan while we're busy batting down the flames and keeping the world from falling apart. Even with all our power, we could barely even begin to figure out how to take them on before The Condemner's power finally drained me and by then their plans and ambitions were already developed along to the point where there was little chance of stopping them."

The younger Lloyd couldn't help but fire a quick look back at his beleaguered little sister, the confusion rooted through her pale, blue eyes providing a glimpse of the evidence that his comrade was wondering where to even begin.

_The soil tilled with salt and the waters steeped in black, bleak fate too unfortunate to try and look back_.

Vonnegut. The words had been stored up in the back of his mind ever since the months ago when he had plucked them from the book he had pilfered from Kara's nightstand. It was a jaded observation spoken from the perspective of a wise man who wondered if something better could ever be made from the present or if it was just wiser to start over from scratch. As he regarded the sniffling monstrosity held in the mercies of his older self, The Black Dog wondered if The Afflicted had taken that consideration to heart.

"So then what should we do?" he finally asked plainly, his thoughts leaving him with no better avenue to travel. "You experienced all this. You made the mistakes and had the opportunity to learn from them. What can you tell us that could prevent us from falling into the same struggles?"

"Well, I think you've already answered that one, soul lubber."

All heads save for The Afflicted's swerved once more to greet the unexpected presence. And, as was his way, Dick Grayson's seemingly eternal yearning for the spotlight enabled the phantom to endure the expectations with ease.

"What you're looking at is the product of a number of different ambitions, including all of those that are gathered around here in a rather depressing fashion. We've all fought the battles and did what we thought was right and we've all tried our best to find ways to make life a little easier for those that we protect. Now you're capable of walking our paths and taking routes that we didn't think about and maybe the results will be better. Maybe they'll be worse. Just remember not to resign yourself to believe that life is destined to be one way or another. There's always another chance to make a difference."

Nightwing then turned to face his old friend and former rival, the two raven-haired disciples of Gotham's Dark Knight taking a moment to regard their third before sharing a knowing look.

"Well, what do you say, boss?" Grayson asked while stretching his intangible arms wide. "Do I at least get partial credit for all this hard work?"

The elder Lloyd managed to hide his chuckle with a mockingly derisive snort. Caught in the comradely moment, he could only dimly recognize a wafting of air currents drifting towards him from the east. Turning to meet the unnatural gusts, he caught the sight of The Bat and the younger Kara soaring to meet them, the two women looking cautious but still interested in seeing what came about from this turn of events.

"I'd say top marks all about, Mister Marley. An' thanks for keeping an eye on things when I couldn't."

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" roared The Bat, the twinkle in her eyes a sound match of the one produced by her younger counterpart as she pointed her ring finger straight at Grayson. "I _knew_ you had made a deal with somebody to make sure you got turned into a ghostie when you kicked it and I always thought that it was Lloyd!" Quite enthused by her successful deduction, the fair-haired Gothamite was left to tilt her head in a pensive manner. "'Course, I didn't really think that Lloyd was still alive. . . Not to mention that I was never really sure whether or not they could recorporalize someone even after being cremated. Lloyd, we _did _burn _your _body right? I mean, that wasn't some clone or. . ."

"The world's greatest living detective everybody. . ."

"Oh, fuck you!" The Bat barked back, the vigilante demonstrating a level of immaturity that would certainly have been frowned upon by her predecessor. "And why didn't the two of you bother to tell me what you were planning on doing?"

"At the risk of sounding a bit too self-important, I could only come to believe that my death would only make matters worse than they already were," Lloyd replied, the Brit trying his best not to wilt under The Bat's remarkably admonishing glare. "With that in mind, I made a pact with the man I've always trusted the most to make the best of whatever was thrown at him. I fastened Nightwing's spirit to the earthly plane with the aid of an enchantment taught to me by The Condemner and left him the _Mugalshir _upon my passing."

Realizing that he hadn't answered his sister's question, he did his best to disarm the vigilante's impatience with a shadow of his droll smirk. "The fact that the power I had imbued within the blade over the years was enough to bring me back to life was an unexpected bonus. If anything else, it gave me the opportunity to help Nightwing with curbing Kara's darker impulses while you set to the task of keeping the world as safe as you could. And, with no offense meant for 'The Ghoul Wonder', I figured he was the one who would need my help more than you."

"Dawwwww," Nightwing broke in, the former acrobat's tone willingly taking a disgustingly cloying candor. "Gee, little bro. I'd be blushing if I still had blood vessels. Still, I guess Broody Sprout can fill that void for me too. . ."

Now truly wishing that she had kept a hold of her mask, The Bat did her best to chuckle away the flushing of her cheeks as Lloyd shot back a comradely smirk while gently wrapping his right hand around the back of his wife's still head. "I knew there wasn't a great deal that I could do to control matters from beyond the grave," he replied in a shrewd counter. "The forces that had been denied control of everything we fought for had worked damn hard to turn the woman we all loved into its greatest weapon but, working together in secret, the two of us did whatever we could to keep things from getting as bad as it could have been. We took the portions of The Afflicted's soul that we could still piece together and convinced her to go into exile."

"Don't start to think too much of yourselves," The Bat cautioned, her certain tone attracting the attention of the others as she moved forward. "Kara could have finished me off at any time but she didn't. She could have taken out her anger on every prisoner that came here but the ones that have been trying to make a peaceful existence are getting passes."

Deprived of her inherited cowl, the long-subdued hope was unmistakable in Stephanie's mannerisms as she slowly made her way towards the reunited couple. "Kara, for all the things you did wrong, you could have done a whole lot worse. We can still make this place something worth protecting! We're all together now! I can talk to the council!"

Her black-and-gold armor giving off a hint of a glimmer in the rising sunlight, Kara Thomas, the last, living product of two lost civilizations, turned away from Lloyd and gave her oldest friend and rival a remnant of a kindly smile. It wasn't near enough to bolster The Bat's optimism and the quavering of The Afflicted's already watery eyes only served to seal the deal for all parties involved. Even the hopefulness that remained seemed to sting at what remained of the murderer's sense of reason as she let out a desperate sob that nearly prompted The Bat to rush towards her if Kara had not raised a hand up to intervene. Once confident that the not-so-dark avenger had her wits about her, she wrapped her open and extended palm into a fist before bringing it to the scabbard strapped along her beltline. Metal slid against hard leather as The Afflicted retrieved the _Kikuichi-monji _by its snakeskin hilt before dropping it at Stephanie's feet.

Her duty done, she turned to meet her husband halfway as he rushed forward to stop her. Their lips smashed together awkwardly just as they first had nearly two decades ago but a new kind of passion and longing had sprung forth to make up for the bizarrely childish innocence of the past. Kara made no effort in keeping Lloyd's busy fingers away, he had always been a fairly active kisser, after all, and she allowed another smattering of tears to escape her eyes as her husband grasped and caressed the back of her head, the sides of her face, the blood-stained curves of her neck and shoulder blades. She felt the shallow gust hit the roof of her throat as Lloyd's weakened lungs gave out a feeble puff even as the tip of his agile tongue slid against the flat of her own. He was trying to hold on to her as long as he could, even until it hurt him to do so, and the best and worst parts of her drank in that desperation with everything she could muster from those deadened ambitions. Nearly two minutes had passed before she felt him regretfully pull away and that was when she brought her hands up to press against Lloyd's cheeks, her suddenly calm gaze sweeping away the dismay and turmoil on her husband's face.

She craned her neck forward with slow deliberation, her lips touching first the left side of Lloyd's jaw and then the right before looking him dead in the eyes once again.

"Please don't think that you have to follow me. Do what you think you have to do and, when you're done, I'll fight my way back to you. It's the only thing I know how to do anymore."

The words were spoken clearly and concisely, so much so that Kara's voice seemed to have stolen the confidence in Lloyd's earlier words. "You're sure?" he whispered back.

Kara nodded before placing another quick kiss on Lloyd's lips. She felt the world break again as Lloyd's fingers slid off of her hips as she turned to face The Bat, the peerless power of the _Kikuichi-monji _grasped firmly within Stephanie's unwavering right hand.

"I'm so tired," The Afflicted said, her voice once again rendered hoarse and weak and her eyes wavering. "I just can't fight anymore."

The Bat realized that Bruce might have snapped at her for allowing the bitter sadness to hit her squarely in the gut to the point where it left her momentarily defenseless. On the other hand, he may very well have rewarded her in turn as she wrapped Kara within the tightest hug she could muster. Her friend had always been fond of embraces that could nearly crush the bones and maybe it was just an unconscious way of getting back at her for the awkwardness and mild irritation brought about by years of enduring the bothersome habit. Whatever the cause, it didn't stop the strangled gasp that burst from her lips and crashed into The Afflicted's chest as Kara gently returned the gesture.

"I can't apologize for what I've done, can I?"

It was a damning question but still enough to convince The Bat to pull away.

"I wouldn't accept it anyway."

The Bat clearly heard the protests of their young visitors but paid them no heed as she punched the katana through The Afflicted's heart. She envisioned a brutal man with silver hair and a stern demeanor that had chosen to pass down his ghastly knowledge of the blade as she bent her knees and sent the blade downward until it severed the valves around Kara's lungs. Slade had meant for the maneuver to be employed as a way of efficiently silencing an enemy but, as was her way, The Bat had transformed it into a means for a quick and merciful death. She pulled apart her own power reservoirs as Kara unwillingly leaned into her right shoulder, the dark champion refused to relent while letting loose a mottled mastery of energy manipulation fueled by so much of what she had learned and endured. It was enough to punch through the nearly unparalleled defenses of The Afflicted and enough to leave the flesh of the murderer of billions and the savior of countless more to be burnt to ashes.

Meanwhile, an endless space of time away, the younger counterparts of the three major players had become blinded by the luminescent but violent display. However, through the explosion of light and energy, a familiar voice called out to them.

"_I'm going to bring the three of you back where you belong."_

* * *

Kara, Lloyd, and Stephanie opened their eyes as one, their ocular membranes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting of the catacombs around them. The first sound to grace their ears was the fluttering of leathery wings followed shortly by the soft, almost choral hum of three Cray supercomputers broadcasting their silent efficiency throughout the gloom. Though facing one another as the points of a triangle, it was clear that the angles of the trio's sights were off by more than a fraction. Kara could only look straight at Lloyd, the half-blood searching for confirmation or assurance or some bizarre mixture in return but receiving none of it from the Brit's thoughtful but guarded gaze. Stephanie, on the other hand, seemed to be focused on some faraway point that was all her own. She focused on the rise and fall of her chest and stomach as she turned away from the self-created sight, the current Robin slowly looking back and forth at Lloyd then at Kara and wondering just what in the hell she could do.

"Guys, I just received word from Rubicante that the spell went off without a hitch. So long as events proceed in the present manner, that is what our future will be. Small events could change, of course, but all temporal logic would indicate that you just got a glimpse of our timeline should the major decisions and destinies continue to be carried out."

There were precious few things that could have drawn the attention of the three young champions but the words of the enchantress managed to accomplish that and then some. Always quite comfortable with such rapt attention, Zatanna Zatara maintained her calm demeanor although a good portion of her either wanted to either fall asleep in her exhaustion or look away in fear. Helping her stave away these useless instincts were the two familiar fellows seated just steps behind her as Noah Kuttler proceed to reach for his familiar handkerchief in order to wipe away at a smudge on his spectacles while Bruce Wayne remained silent and predictably pensive. Her bare fingers ruffling against the smooth contours of the leather pouch that the fire-wreathed oracle of Hashmalamum had allowed her to borrow in order to perform the dire hex, the resident spell caster of The Justice League was not surprised to see the three youths quickly turn their attention towards the man that had become so much to each of them.

The sight of her oldest friend turning away got her to thinking of some particularly painful spells that she could have employed to properly punish her oldest friend. Sharp wounds sprung to the tip of her tongue but she soon recognized that there would be a better time. It was the hallmark of a good performer to recognize what would and wouldn't work and Zatanna brought that well-earned skill to the forefront as she moved to swoop up her coat from the chair she had just left behind. She settled into the familiar fleece that Bruce had bought for her 35th birthday with what she hoped to be a good amount of poise.

"Well, I think I'll take my leave now. Something tells me that I should take another look at my stock portfolio. Start focusing less on long-term investments and the like."

Zatanna considered it unlikely that she would receive a plethora of pithy responses and wasn't surprised at all when her parting words were met with little more than hushed farewells that could barely pierce the silence.

* * *

_Wayne Manor – Day Room_

The others had been kind enough to allow Kara a couple of hours or so to regain her physical and psychological bearings. If anything else, the delay had left Lloyd and Stephanie with ample time to retell their parts of the tale to the interested parties that occupied the sun-dappled chamber while Alfred mended to the wounds and broken bones that still needed care. Having brushed the last remnants of sleep from her eyes just steps ago, the half-Kryptonian could clearly see the peaceful morning that greeted her while hearing the stodgy butler bemoaning of cursed luck and mulishly difficult patients. Planting the ball of her bare, right foot against the rich wood that ran along the ground floor of the mansion, she hesitated upon hearing the anticipated response of squawking rejoinders, snappish insults, and the juvenile name calling until it was nearly enough to convince her to turn right back around and bury herself beneath the covers of her warm bed.

After all, who was she to interrupt the scene?

Kara had almost hoped for the suspicion and trepidation she was nearly expecting and felt the anger again when none of it rose to the surface as she made her way into the room. The emotional cocktail had already proven to be heady enough and the sight of Alfred's sympathetic smile after he had politely excused himself was nearly enough to dash away her already meager preparations. She managed to sweep away her trepidations as six pairs of eyes watched her amble around the couches that ran parallel to the spotless glass transoms until she stood in front of the tall fireplace, the barest of faintest traces of ash tickling her hypersensitive nose.

"Thank you for being patient," Kara began, the urge to turn her eyes towards the carpet taking a stronger hold on her until she managed to subdue it by letting out a deep breath.

"No need to thank us for that," spoke one of the three gentlemen who had stayed around for the entire tale. "In fact, if you want to thank us then I think the best thing you can do is to just stuff away that apology you've probably been building up since the moment you came back from whenever you've been."

Kara offered back a hesitant smile to Richard Grayson as the former Misfit and current Justice League member leaned back in his seat. She continued to find herself lost for words even as the former acrobat worked to further defuse her unease with the charming smirk that had helped begin to crack the hard shell that she had encased herself within throughout her 33-year journey to the place she now called a home. "All right. I won't apologize then," she finally replied. "But that's not going to stop me from pointing out that we need to do something about all of this."

"Well, just what the hell do you expect to do?" Roy Harper asked back, the red-haired sharpshooter looking decidedly more impatient than those around him. "And what 'this' are we talking about here? The fact that you might become a destroyer of worlds? That there might be some kind of secret order of authorities that are attempting to control the most powerful people in the world by turning them against each other? The fact that the Canucks ate a dick in the Stanley Cup? What?"

"Roy. . ." cautioned Wally West, the young father and veteran speedster looking understandably chagrined while his old friend left the room in disgust. He noticed that Nightwing was shooting him an expectant stare and it was enough to prompt The Flash to shake his head to and fro in frustration. "Kara, I understand that you're not too keen about hearing this but there isn't much that we can do here. . ."

"We can keep this from happening!" Kara spat back. "We can't just expect to accept that everything that we've done and everything we will do is going to be for nothing. No, less than nothing! Now I know we came together in order to defend the world and the people we loved from the threats that keep them afraid of what's to come and none of us were looking to be labeled as heroes. We didn't want our faces to be plastered all over the newspapers and magazines. . ."

"I kinda do," a slight but chirpy voice broke in before a stern look from Lloyd was able to convince Stephanie that now wasn't the time.

"We chose a different path," Kara continued on, her candor picking up authority and speed. "We all have our own little responsibilities to fulfill. It's that cohesion of our work that keeps the world running! There are people who work in the factories and the people that perform the paperwork that make certain that those factories stay open and funded! There are people that work in the fields to provide the world with clean food and water and there are people that consume it in order to go to work for the industries that are able to divvy out those resources around the world! _Our _job, our responsibility, is to defend the world from threats that those people couldn't even begin to handle or comprehend!"

"And we've done that, Kara," Nightwing replied, the forceful counter somewhat subdued by his still posture. "It's not perfect but we've done some good work. Metahuman-related crime is down across the board! Gotham is as safer than it's ever been and it may not just be because of us but, damn it, we played a part in it."

"But what happens when we become the villain, Richard?" Kara asked back, her crystalline blue eyes shining with the determination of their owner. "We're not perfect creatures! We can succumb to thinking that we deserve something more than what the world is willing to offer us. What if we become the threat that we're supposed to fight?"

"Then we make things easier for ourselves by taking the time to find out the best way we can handle what's thrown at us," Stephanie concluded, the whimsical lining within her previous words now most-of-the-way gone. "Let's do whatever we need to do to root out whoever these power players may be. Let's do what we have to do to make certain that you don't go psycho on the rest of us. Still, what happens if all those things we focus on turn out to be the exact things that cause all of this in the first place?"

Kara couldn't help but shut her eyes tight, the recognition of how Stephanie's retort had so closely matched her own thoughts just dragging her down deeper. "You're right. Maybe I'm just the problem."

The harsh slap of palm against skin startled everyone in the room save the man who caused it. Not at all used to the motion, Lloyd felt his metatarsals whining sharply at him after he had forced the hard cartilage against his lover's jaw but that mild pain easily lost out to the determination and fury that prompted Kara to break away from her dangerous contemplations.

"No. You don't get to make that call," Lloyd said, his West London brogue now coarse as sandpaper as the words seemed to slide roughly against his throat. "The warrior that convinced me to stand back up after The Condemner had abandoned me would never allow that. The scared little girl that managed to fight back against Darkseid even as she was running away from her anger wouldn't have even considered what you're thinking and I'm not about to lose the woman I love to the thoughts of a coward! If you want to make certain that things don't make a turn for the worse than either do your best to keep things as it is or just think hard and try to do what you can to make it better."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Robin chimed in, her arms now smoothly crossed over her chest. "Well, I would have used fewer big words and sounded less Christian-Baley but. . . Okay! The point is that my big brother would be even more unappealing to hang around if you suddenly decided to fly the coop so howz about just staying around for my sake?"

Kara suddenly felt the need to laugh but the startled gasp that came out instead made it seem like her body had forgotten how to pull that off.

"And while we're at it, could you imagine how pissy Bruce would get if Steph gets even more unmanageable than she already is?" Nightwing threw in, the mere thought of it prompting both him and Wally to let out a melodramatic shudder. "Dear Lord, I don't think the cosmos itself could take that kind of pressure. . ."

"Well, I personally don't have a great deal of interest in however all this turns out," Wally added, his forcefully neutral countenance and casually raised hand demonstrating his true sincerity. "Still, I've already got two kids to look after and I hardly need Dick or Roy tromping back into my house 'cause they need a place to stay after their bosses kicked them out."

"Oh for. . . the love of. . . that happened _one _time!"

"Three! Three times!" Wally fired back in response to Dick's complaint. "Once when Bruce threw you out, once when K'ory forbid you from coming back into Titans Tower because you kept forgetting to replace the toilet paper and then when Babs threw you out on your ass because she wanted to be Duchess Douchebag."

"That was about more than just toilet paper!" Dick shouted back over the sound of Stephanie's howls of laughter. "And stop calling Barbara that! Damn it, Sprout! I should take that costume away from you just for even starting that nickname!"

As the two Robins continued to bicker in the midst of Wally's vocal ponderings over why Dick felt the need to travel halfway across the country just to bum a room, the potential harbinger of the world's destruction looked on with a unique mixture of dismay and delight. She turned to the man who could cause her more harm than Luthor or Darkseid or Mongul or any other power-hungry villain ever could and kept his smile strong with a look of disbelieving glee.

"We're all in this together," Kara mumbled, stunned that she could even think to consider otherwise.

Lloyd leaned forward and pressed his lips in the center of the scarlet tinge on his lover's face that remained from his handprint.

"'Til the end of the world, luv."

The loving gestures displayed before them seemed to silence the squabbling of the others. Of course, that exhibition of maturity was soon broken up by the distinct _SPLINCH_ of a metal tab forcing open an aluminum container with such force that a sliver of brownish amber spilled onto the table where the recent arrival had placed his drink along with five of its close relatives.

"Oh, good. I missed the heartwarming moment," declared Roy Harper as he sat down in order to better enjoy his beer. "Still, since I don't want to get thwacked by any easily-irritated women, let me just say that there's pretty much only two things I believe in. The first one is that beer and guns are good and the second is that there ain't a damn thing that can get in our way if we stay together. Not Lex Luthor, not all the assholes and baddies everybody else wants to throw at us and certainly not each other. Now, if you want to prove that second theory wrong then you're just going to have to dispel the first one first by joining me for a beer."

The relenting gestures ranged from sarcastic asides to gentle thanks but the results remained the same. The six friends sat at the plain, glass table without a thought to the thousand-dollar couches or the millions of dollars of technology humming beneath their feet or whatever threats would be presented to them in the future to come.

They would deal with them as they arrived, one sin at a time.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, it's finally here after what has been a surprisingly long delay. I've got a plethora of excuses for this, not the least of which is that I was buried in a crapton of actual work and volunteer work that made the idea of taking the time to write something difficult at best and an impossibility at the worst.

The more important one though, at least in my opinion, comes from a talk I had with a somewhat famous writing colleague of mine. You see, I talked about how I began this project five years ago, during a time when I wasn't really confident about where I was in life and I needed something that fulfilled my creative requirements. Now, however, I've been living a fully self-sufficient life for years now and my time is stacked up with bunches of activities that keep my life fun and fulfilling. And, as I pondered over whether or not I should just bite the bullet and cobble together the next scene like I have on dozens of past occasions, my friend asked me if I still have the same passion and inspiration for this project that I had in the past. Is it still the prime source of my creative motivation that persuaded me to live a busy, functioning and fulfilling life despite all of the struggles and occasional lapses in activity.

After a bit of thinking and a lot of Guinness, I have to say no.

So, to make a long story short, _The Misfits _is hereby placed on a more relaxed updating schedule until I feel the need or desire to change it. I do love the little smidgen of a world I've created within DC's metaphorical fishbowl and it is still one of the best ways I can think of to pour my real-life tension into something that won't prompt me to visit the nearest gun store but it's far from being one of the important parts and I've got to treat it in kind. The story is by no means ending and I've already got a good outline of the arcs to come but don't expect biweekly updates that frequently. That being said, thanks to everyone who has provided some feedback or kindly words in these even handful of years. Some of you have been here from the start and are still here, some have fallen by the wayside while others have at least been around long enough to read one of these sentiments crafted in an earlier issue and yet you are still around. For that, I thank you.

* * *

_Issue #126 Preview_

With a grim future potentially unfolding before them, our favorite squadron of maniacs find themselves dealing with several pressing situations in the present. With a new and potentially volatile team member, Lloyd is left to the task of guiding the group through an investigation of the world's most respected criminal. The most secretive portions of the globe will be scoured! Lives will be placed on the line! Panties may very well be raided!

Come to think of it, why is the second-in-command making all the orders? One might come to think that something happened to Batman or something. And if that's true, what will a former friend/rival/Bat/violence junkie might be able to do about it? Begin to find out with the kick-off of _Connective Insinuations _and the next installment of The Misfits: Ears to the Ground. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	126. Your Ears are Burning

Issue #126

Your Ears Are Burning

_USMC Supply Depot 7CRA (presently decommissioned) – 57.7 miles north-northwest of Anchorage, Alaska - 1:21 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

It had become one of those nights for Colonel Brandon Andress. Nicknamed "Bridge" for his notoriety in bringing his troops together in times of crises, a large part of that particular skill stemmed from his penchant for recognizing potential signs of trouble well before it loomed over the horizon. It was a talent that had served him well in his two tours of Afghanistan after being honed and conditioned throughout the hectic early days of Operation Desert Storm but it still managed to occasionally leave him with the weakness of furtive periods when he couldn't surrender to the necessity of sleep. The drawback had led him to rise from his bunk after three restless hours and wile away his tense contemplations by touring the wide halls of the aged repository, his cold eyes drawing the attention of his soldiers as he passed.

There was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing seemed out of places. The buzzing of nocturnal insects that had been cajoled into action by the brisk summer winds wafted its way over the dull rumble of a jeep carrying a quartet of uniformed soldiers to their next destination but even that relatively serene state did nothing to appease the thoughts for the war veteran, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows rising as his eyes drifted to look down at the cement floor in order to better collect his thoughts. The inklings of doubt began to surface, just as they had so frequently in the past several months, but Andress shuffled the qualms away just as he had been taught to do at his long days at The Citadel. His thoughts settled with a single, undisputable fact. He was a man playing his part, a cog in the machine that was the greatest country the world had ever known. The readmission of that knowledge seemed to quickly pay its dividends as a young corporal rushed towards him, the soldier's calm façade already cracking from the tension spawned up by whatever news he was about to report.

"Sir! There's a. . . there's a. . . nor. . . northern perimeter!"

Colonel Andress found himself toggling between understanding and annoyance as he stared back at the sweating sentry. "What about it, soldier? And how come you came all the way here to tell me instead of just calling it in from your post?" The middle-aged soldier expected an instinctual flinch in response to his sharp tone and the fact that the younger soldier was still too fearful to do so put his thoughts to bubbling once again. Andress was quick to recognize the sign: whatever was on the foot soldier's mind had been able to put a great deal more fear in the kid than he could and that only served to amplify his lingering sense of dread.

"I. . . I. . ." the young soldier continued to stammer, sweat popping free from the pores of his clammy forehead. "Just pulled. . . just gone."

Now it was the colonel's turn to keep his face from paling. "Just what in the hell are you talkin' about, son?" he asked again while clamping his large, strong hands around the messenger's quivering soldiers. Then, realizing he was getting nowhere, Andress quickly examined his surroundings for another option and found it with one of the onlookers from the overhead catwalk. "Rodriguez! Have we received any reports of unusual activity from the northern perimeter?"

Rodriguez quickly snapped to attention. "Nothing yet, sir! Colonel, do we have permission to conduct a preemptive report?"

A hastily made but still stern glance back allowed the colonel to broadcast his approval of the subordinate's request. "And make sure that the free agent is ready for action," Andress thought to add. "It's high time that lady earned her keep." Confident that the brown-skinned lieutenant would complete his duties, he refocused his attentions back to the trembling herald. "Come on, son. Talk to me! Did you manage to get a visual on this possible intruder?"

The stifling dread that seemed to pass through the young soldier's countenance seemed to spring right along with him as he thoughtlessly jerked at the lapels of the colonel's uniform. "We have to get away!" he quickly replied, his tone an odd mix between a mumble and howl. "It already got everybody else! It'll get us too."

The colonel had already managed to stifle his annoyance as Rodriguez reemerged from the second floor communications hub. "Sir, we're not receiving any responses from Lieutenant Black or anyone else on the northern or eastern security boundaries. We're not even picking up a signal from some of them."

The words quickly put the colonel at a momentary loss. Each of these soldiers, including the multi-tour veteran of Bosnia and Iraq standing in front of him and looking ready to fall away from fright at his feet, were professionals. The vast majority of them also had experience in combating the metahuman menaces that their employer had cautioned them of both before and after they had all agreed to sign on. To think that one would abandon their post was a distant possibility, let alone the entire lot and that meant that whatever threat looming around them was enough of a force to subdue nearly three dozen armed military personnel without drawing all but the slightest hint of attention.

As one could guess, the possibilities hardly settled to the colonel's nerves. And, to the colonel's credit, he was wise enough to recognize that something with that kind of power wouldn't have allowed a lone soldier to escape from their clutches without a significant reason. Much to his chagrin, Andress found his theory proven as the 14,000 square-foot bunker began to shake and tremble, the towering metal aisles jostling in complaint as the astonished shouts of the surrounding shoulders rang through his ears. Looking up to the roof out of instinct, he bore witness to a massive figure drifting through the depot's brick and cement crown. Awash in a mixture of emerald and the purest white light, it towered over the soldiers perched on the highest catwalks and railings while burning brightly enough to prompt the colonel to momentarily shield his eyes from the luminosity. The roof remained stable and seemingly untouched by the mysterious creature, a bizarre phenomenon that prompted some to scream of ghosts and others to deliver frantic orders or requests until the booming voice of the presence effectively silenced the noise and confusion.

"Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve. Behold the majesty of Jehovah's scion and tremble under the weight of your transgressions. Rendered blind from the disorienting lures of greed and hubris, witness thine salvation slipping further away from the finite mercy of the almighty! Begin your repentance and turn away from your current transgressions. Disavow the entrapment of violence before the blood of the innocent becomes too high for any of you to wade through."

Still unable to turn himself away from the surrounding fever of clamor and commotion, any orders that Colonel Andress could have made would have been drowned out by the sound of gunfire. It began sporadically with a handful of soldiers, some of whom were taken over by panic while others were determined to stick to the tenets that had allowed them to survive as long as they had and their efforts were enough to eventually goad the others until the old soldier was forced to suffer an explosion of pistol, machine-gun, and the fire of anything else these brave men and women could bring to bear. Searching for cover behind one of the metal railing bases, he found it to be a bizarrely inspiring sight to behold even while the emerald specter continued to loom above them, the beast now silent, unmoving, and unstoppable.

Silent and unmoving. . . and yet Andress couldn't help but notice that some of the soldiers around him had already fallen. In fact, upon closer inspection, the colonel quickly came to recognize that the casualties were not being brought about through some godlike or supernatural force that could have been visited upon them by whatever terrifying force loomed above them.

They were being brought down by arrows. Steel-tipped, yard-long darts whose feathers were all painted a solid shade of green.

"It's a trick!" the colonel bellowed, his still, left hand dipping to his belt in order to pull out his pistol. "Ignore whatever that is and focus on thaaaahh!"

Andress could barely pick up the deadly whistling sound as an arrow sliced cleanly between the tendons connecting the edges of his right thumb and ring finger, the agony of the perfectly-placed shot forcing the colonel to drop his weapon. Falling to his knees from the shock and pain, he barely managed to regain his bearings before his skull was rattled by a ferocious front kick that would eventually coax another small stream of blood to trickle from his right ear as he lay unconscious on the floor. Still, had he been able to continue hearing through his concussion-induced delirium, he might have been able to take in the amused whistling of the blonde-haired, green-garbed fellow currently standing over him.

"I've never been a sinner, I've never sinned," sang Oliver Queen as he put another arrow to his string. "But I've got a friend in Jesus," he added with a roguish grin as he tilted his arms to take aim at another of the gun-toting soldiers on the catwalks above. Undistracted as he was by the havoc around him, the former Justice Leaguer and current Misfit known to much of the world as Green Arrow was able to hit his mark once again as his shot punched through Rodriguez's right tricep. It was a move to disarm his quarry, just as the previous dozen had been, and the sight of the thinning, one-sided battlefield was enough to tempt the liberal-minded fellow to take a moment to adjust his hat even as his eager eyes focused to scope out his next target.

"So I know that when I die," Ollie continued on with a smirk as he brought another opponent down with an arrow to the right shoulder. "He's gonna recommend me to the spirit in the sky."

Whatever other ironic rumblings that the goateed sharpshooter could have brought to the table was cut off by an expected but still unpleasant sight. Diving behind a makeshift blockade of plastic returnable containers, he managed to barely avoid the crackling rays of electrical energy that would have otherwise left him in a world of hurt. The smell of ozone still tickling his nose, he continued to sprint along his shelter as another bolt of lightning fired above him sent many of the 160-pound containers raining down behind him as he passed.

"Well, ain't this a disappointment!" a female voice yelled over not only the dwindling blare of gunfire but also above the sizzle of energy that was circling around Leslie Willis's fingertips. "Here I was expecting an actual superhero and instead I get the Robin Hood wannabe!"

Green Arrow almost had to struggle to stay silent as he wisely slid behind another of the long, metal aisles without attracting the attention of his snide antagonist. He did manage to get a glimpse of the woman and momentarily admired the athletic frame of the blue-skinned murderess. Her curves accentuated by a midriff-exposing black bodysuit, the former radio shock jock turned manipulator of electricity seemed quite confident with maintaining her cocky countenance even as she furtively searched for her hidden prey. Turning away as his opponent ran a gloved hand through her spiky blue hair streaked with white stripes, Ollie was unable to bear witness as Livewire flashed a positively bloodthirsty smile.

"Yeah, you really picked the wrong hellhole to try and take over, Van Dyke," Livewire added while narrowing down her search with a spray of electric currents that coursed through the metal railings that were just to the east of Green Arrow's hiding spot. Momentarily frustrated at her failure, the annoyance turned to mild amusement as she spotted an arrow screaming straight at her. Disintegrating the wood-and-metal projectile with a simple shot of static, she closed in on the outgunned vigilante with another blast of electricity that forced Green Arrow from his hiding spot.

"Come on, you really think that you could've gone toe-to-toe with me?" she asked while surrounding the archer in a ten-foot-high ring of electricity. "You're looking at a chick whose gone toe-to-toe with Superman!"

"Izzat right now?" asked a gentleman who had suddenly appeared at Livewire's back. Waiting patiently for the stranger to make her move, the new arrival waited until he could look his opponent squarely in her sparkling, blue eyes before launching a force bolt of pure telekinetic energy that seemed to soak straight through the pores of the cerulean-tinted being of pure energy. Like a conductor calmly steering a well-practiced symphony, he influenced Livewire's neural connectors to draw back the woman's expended electrical energy straight back to its owner. The effort caused no small amount of psychological strain and it was only a small matter for the mind-warping magician to overload Willis's riddled synapses until the recently pardoned criminal fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"Well, you were lookin' at a bloke whose done the same with his cousin," The Black Dog calmly informed his unconscious foe, his left hand still sparkling from his efforts at energy manipulation. "An', just between you and me, she had a whole lot more interesting things to bring to the table."

"Geez, and here I thought I was supposed to be supplying the bald-faced double entendres."

Feeling quite vigorous despite his spiritual illusions and the slight efforts needed to dismantle the storehouse's superpowered guardian, Lloyd was briefly tempted to fire a nasty glare. "And here I thought you knew better than to get on the wrong side of somebody who keeps saving your arse."

As was his way, Green Arrow kept his casual demeanor while dusting away some ash and grit that had gathered around his forearms. "Well, I hardly mean to be mean, young master," Green Arrow gamely replied, his eyes stern even as a bright, debonair smile was provided to punctuate his sarcasm. "Still, I'd hope that all the time I've put into being such a good, little soldier will allow you to cut me a little slack."

Lloyd readily met Ollie's smirk with one of his own. Although the Brit had been warned, quite regularly in fact, of the archer's admiration for defying authority at every turn he had found Green Arrow's conduct over the past month to be nothing short of exemplary. He didn't know enough about the man to fully explain the discrepancy between what was rumored and what turned out to be true but the numerous patrols and investigations he had conducted alongside the former guardian of Star City allowed The Black Dog to come to reach some of his own comfortable conclusions. He recognized a deceptively deep well of patience in Green Arrow's actions and mannerisms, a natural instinct given the necessity of an archer to examine so many factors of the world around them in order to meet their expectations.

Moreover, Oliver was a man who had clearly come to terms with his limitations. Yes, he occasionally required a helping hand in some situations and he still expressed frustration over some o his shortcomings with displays that ranged from calm to downright vitriolic but Lloyd had begun to guess that these moments were crests within a surprisingly steady ocean of emotion. In fact, every frustrated glance or irritated glare that Ollie would stave away with a brusque word or over-the-top rejoinder seemed to serve as something more than just a way to piss somebody off. It seemed to be the veteran's way of teaching a lesson, a reflection of the humbling mistakes and miscalculations that he had made in the past. While Batman provoked through stern silence and Noah pushed others forward with his dry humor, Oliver chose the route of testing strength through simple emotion.

And, as much of a contrast as it was, Lloyd was beginning to understand why so many people seemed to be drawn to the charismatic crime fighter.

"If you want mercy then how's about you find me something of Luthor's that's actually _worth _sniffing out," Lloyd finally replied, his mind's eye searching for any stray soldiers that managed to evade Green Arrow's eyes.

"Huh. So you're telling me the scent hasn't gotten any better?" Green Arrow asked back. "I mean, you _did _say that you sensed some kind of magical weaponry in this place while we were busy at the borders."

"Yeah, but that slight sniff didn't get any more tempting as we went along," Lloyd hastily replied while running his left hand through his unkempt black hair. "Well, I had originally thought over the idea that there might be something and that Lex was using some kind of supernatural dampeners that could work at a certain range but. . ."

"But now you're close enough to get a good gander and you found out it looked just as bad as it did before," the former Justice Leaguer Arrow naturally concluded, a hint of frustration seeping through his voice even as he continued to look about the premises for anyone that might have slipped past Lloyd's notice. "Well, don't worry about it too much, kid. This may just be another false trail but the cue ball has got to tip his hand sooner or later."

The Black Dog couldn't help but grimace even in the face of the encouragement. "What's really worrying me is what Luthor is willing to give up just to keep us away from what he really wants to hide," he confessed. "This may just be small potatoes in the grand scheme of things but it must have cost Luthor millions to gather and maintain. Also, while this may just be another C-grade baddie teamed with a bunch of military vets who got dissatisfied with their earnings but these are still resources he could 'ave used somewhere else! If he's willing to piss them away like this then what kind of stuff is he willing to hold onto?"

"I dunno," Green Arrow quickly replied, his nonchalant air clearly ruffling the metaphorical feathers of his young colleague. "Maybe just a whole lot more of the same. Maybe something that can just take us all out in one fell swoop no matter what we think we can do about it. Still, if you want my guess then it's probably something in the middle that we can only guess about until we actually see it. Until then, all we can do about it now is just keep looking for a better trail than the one we got last time."

Lloyd let out a grunt that was so familiar to Green Arrow that the older vigilante found that he had to hold in a chuckle.

"You're right, you're right," the half-demon finally relented, his attentions somewhat diverted by taking a moment to investigate the stirring Colonel Andress. "Sorry, 'Errol'. 'M startin' to think that I'm taking all this runnin' about a bit too seriously."

"Yeah, ya are," Ollie concurred, the veteran smirking in response to The Black Dog's apparent handle for him. "But I'll let it go since you're worried about your little sweetheart. And, to be frank, the labor and leadership you've been putting in is a shitload more useful than what your boss is providing."

"Found some shinies," reported a blur of crimson just as it began to slow to a stop and make itself known as Wally West, The Fastest Man Alive. His lanky frame wrapped within the familiar red-and-yellow uniform handed down to him from his uncle, the speedster's restless hands were currently busying themselves with tossing a particularly sharp-looking sword back and forth. "It doesn't look any different from what we've already seen in other spots but I figured you might want to take a look at it," the young father added before tossing the blade towards his leader. "So I haven't missed any of the traditional 'gossiping about Batman', have I?"

Lloyd thought it suited his status as The Misfits' second-in-command when he gave a disapproving look to his slightly seditious charges. "Y'know, I'm starting to long for Roy's post-battle professionalism," he chided while taking a closer look at The Flash's discovery. "Granted, there was always the chance we'd find him passed out in an alleyway come morning time. . ."

"Awwwww, and you already cleaned Livewire's clock," The Flash bemoaned, the melodramatic emphasis a clear indication that the complaint was meant for something other than losing out on a decent fight. "And, before you get all cross and British, the soldiers that were on the eastern and southern perimeters are all locked up with their buddies without their radios and ready for pick-up."

After taking another, lingering look at the blade that his friend had retrieved, The Black Dog ultimately relented with a tight but legitimate smile. "Right then. I'll take a look for myself at what you found in the lower levels before I have C.C. call Waller's people in. Also, while I know that I've told this to the both of you before, I understand your worries concerning Batman's conduct in the aftermath of the journey to Hashmalamum."

"Well, that's a flowery way of puttin' it," Green Arrow fired back with a snort. "Black Dog, the guy has been nothin' but a gloomy candy shell. I mean, he's always been the anti-social type but at least he made up for it by being damn good at what he did."

"We all have our own moments of weakness, Green Arrow," The Black Dog quickly offered back, the telepath easily picking up The Flash's more sympathetic thoughts before responding to his friend and comrade with what he hoped to be a reassuring smile. "Fortunately, the plan we have on the docket should go a long way to circumventing Batman's issues before they prove a nuisance to our operations."

While The Flash looked slightly hesitant, Green Arrow chose to go full tilt and sighed while crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"Well, speaking from what is a shameful professional experience even under _my _standards, your little 'solution' may very well end up causing a whole new mess of problems."

* * *

_Gotham City – Lombardi Street – 4:26 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Sarah Bruner couldn't even feel the chill in her gut anymore as she dashed blindly down the alleyway, her panic overcoming her sense for safety as her ungainly steps took her further away from the safety of the open road to the west. A recent graduate at Columbia in the field of early childhood education, she had eagerly agreed to a teaching position that had been originally financed by a generous grant from The Wayne Foundation designed to instill new blood into Gotham's recovering public schools. Having been inspired by stories of the city's impressively reduced crime rate and of all the stories of newfound safety and security, she had begun to look at this old but mighty city as a place where she could make her own little impact on the world. She wanted to make the world a better place by teaching the lessons she had learned and been taught to deliver to the generations to come so that they would learn to appreciate learning just as she had.

Now she was simply running for her life. Given the juxtaposition between wishes and reality, perhaps one could understand why our periled heroine would be driven into such a fright.

The clomping of the flats of her tennis shoes suddenly sounded like gunshots to the young woman, her heart beating like a jackhammer against her sweat-strewn torso. After twenty long seconds of dashing for her life, the entire affair had become a matter of instinct but humanity has long proven that it has difficulty adjusting to a new role after being caught so long in the illusion of superiority. Sarah's riddled senses failed her as she made a wrong turn and, before she could recognize it, her efforts to escape were finally rewarded with the interruption of a dead end of brick walls surrounding her on all sides save where she had come in. A punishing bout of sorrow came with the inevitability but that was quick to once again give way to horror as she screamed, tears leaking from her eyes as the footsteps that had hounded her slowed to a crawl. Turning around to meet them, she couldn't stop her frightful shivering as a ragged looking man with scraggly brown hair looked back at her with a smile.

"Gave me a good run there," the predator admitted with a hiss, his brown eyes giving off a cold and hungry gleam. "Bet the blood is runnin' reeeeeeal hot right now. Just. . . bubblin' right below the surface," he added dreamily as he slowly revealed the Bowie knife that had signaled the start of the merry chase. He was only a handful of steps away from his reward before the little bitch tried to rush past him but she was too scared and he was too hungry. A hard punch to the woman's temple sent her scuttling to the ground, blood pooling from the spot on her forehead where the hilt of his blade had met the bridge of her nose.

Some could argue, as the attacker brought the blade to the woman's throat, that it might have been important to understand that Sarah Bruner's assailant had once been a follower of the late Zsasz and had yearned to spread the killer's philosophy from his own repulsive perspective. Others could draw comfort from the fleeting moment when the victim wondered over who would look after the children she taught when she wasn't there to be with them anymore. She wondered how they would respond or how much of the story would be known or be told before the dread choked her heart and bile rose from her throat. Thus, with all those salient facts now under consideration, the fates of fortune chose to offer their own input as Sarah's screams were joined by those of her potential murderer as a silver crossbow bolt embedded itself through the aggressor's right wrist. The clattering sound of the knife striking the ground and the continuing panic did well to cover up the sound of a lone figure sliding down a grappling line with just the metal contours of their gauntlets serving as their buffer and fulcrum against friction. Then, landing in stride despite the velocity of the descent, the dark protector punctuated their point by taking aim once again and putting another thin sliver of pointed metal into the back of her target's left shoulder.

Ironically enough, the former follower of Zsasz was inspired by the possibility of his unexpected demise to turn and plea for mercy. What he received in response was the sight of traction pads at the bottom of a black-and-purple combat boot just before the heel of it smashed into his chin, the force of the kick cracking his lower jaw and leaving one of his incisors to smash against his upper lip before it was pried loose from his slack jawed mouth. His senses now overloaded with pain, it was nearly a mercy when the masked woman placed a metal object against his Adam's apple and sent 10,000 volts screaming into his spinal column.

With the near disaster now averted, the figure still perched on the rooftop remained content with merely overseeing the scene of the crime. Looking on silently as Helena Bertenelli roughly shoved the dead weight of the knife-wielder aside, the notable individual tilted their head to one side as the dark vigilante known as The Huntress helped Sarah Bruner to her feet. A thin smile graced the creature that would soon present the hardened crime fighter below with an opportunity that would doubtlessly change both their lives and the anticipation of it was enough to give the watcher no small amount of trepidation. However, as the supposedly hard-hearted warrior woman whispered some soothing words to the still-terrified Sarah Bruner, the unidentified presence was soon convinced that the plan they were to put into motion would be a wise one.

* * *

_The Batcave – 9:47 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Well, the shifting firewalls are always going to be a bother but I suppose it's the price to pay for having to be careful. Besides, with all the warm bodies coming in and out of this place, it was nice to have an option where we could shore up our defenses at the start and work on the supports as we went along."

Continuing to listen in a detached manner while taking a moment to sip from his slightly steaming mug of Earl Grey, Noah Kuttler sat back in his brand-spanking new Burberry office chair while continuing to go about his daily routine. Though he hardly ever considered himself to be a slave to ergonomic impetuses, the computer genius felt he was nearly required to admire the manner in which the tractable foam padding molded to the contours of his still-recovering spine. Stifling a contented sigh as the tea slid down his esophagus, he recomposed himself quickly in order to fulfill the kind of conduct that he expected for himself. However, even as he turned his full attentions to what had become a frequent comrade, the hacker continued to remind himself that his current comfort was well worth the $1,500 he had spent on the luxury and the disapproving glare Bruce had provided for him as a response to having such a lavish addition to his meticulously arranged cave.

"So glad to hear that everything is proceeding smoothly, Mister Stone. Once again though, please feel free to contact me if there are any more issues with the security protocols. I still take great pride in seeing to the sum totals of my labor, after all."

Victor Stone, separated from his benefactor as he was by 3,000 miles and a fiberoptic audiovisual cable feed installed within a power coupling stored alongside his artificial heart, responded to the claim with a tight smile. "Yeah, I suppose that's another thing in common you've got with all the other techies in our line of work," replied the teacher of teenage superheroes better known to the world as Cyborg. "Bad enough that I've got Drake going over every computer file of mine with a fine-toothed comb for two days straight and callin' in every 15 minutes telling me what he's found. Now you're ready to hop in every time the littlest thing goes out of whack. I swear, man, the both of you are worse than Blondie Hood."

The Calculator took another sip and swallow. "Ah. And might I ask how Miss Dearden is doing?"

Cyborg shrugged his shoulders, an odd sight to see given that his left arm was currently housed in a charging chamber at the southwestern corner of the room thus momentarily making the broad torso of the former high school All-American football star look like an unbalanced scale. "Same ol', same ol'. . . though I'm guessing she's just gonna keep on getting curious about this unseen figure givin' her computer lessons from afar."

Noah's throat tightened once again but he couldn't blame this one on the temperature of the tea. Per the request of Oliver Queen, he had been serving as Mia Dearden's faceless guide into the world of hacking and information collection in the month since Green Arrow had made Wayne Manor the base of both his individual and joint operations. He had shied away from the idea at first but it turned out that Queen's junior partner was gifted with a form of patience and diligence that veered sharply away from her mentor's demeanor when it came to technology, an approach that fell dangerously close to the classic "Bash Screen Until It Works" method so popular with many civilians and trigger-happy crime fighters throughout the cosmos. To his astonishment, the former street urchin and prostitute turned Teen Titan had taken her admiration of computers and mixed it with her own determination into making it a tool that she could employ to not only make up for her own limitations but to surge past them.

Had he been a more efficient student of human behavior, Noah may have recognized that the talent actually did spawn from Mia's desire to emulate the man who had saved the shambles of her old life and provided her with something worthwhile. As it was, it was difficult enough for Noah to avoid seeing the similarities between another old soul he had grown quite familiar with and the relatively unripe skill set left for him to mold.

"But never mind that," Cyborg announced, his loud delivery purposefully snapping through Noah's reveries. "What is this I'm hearin' about you and Zatanna? I mean, is it true. . ."

"Well, just inform Mia that I will be delivering her new assignment tomorrow afternoon," Noah broke in, his efforts to bring the communiqué to a grinding halt overcoming the instinctual urge to clean his spectacles. "And please keep me abreast of any unexpected alterations to the security wall."

The screen faded to black just as the strength of Cyborg's smirk was enough to bring the hacker to a cold sweat. Momentarily stifled with the arrival of this unexpected data, he was left to respond with what could generously be called as a high-pitched squeak when a scimitar crashed against his nearby worktable with a series of clangs and crashes.

"Tell me what you think of that, Answer Man," said The Black Dog, the young vigilante looking decidedly unruffled. "Feel free to take a moment to gather yourself though."

The Calculator followed his colleague's recommendation despite the sour aftertaste, his respiration slowing down to an even register as he scooped up the blade to examine it. Far more proficient with more advanced form of weapons-grade technology, his knowledge of such rudimentary armaments was lacking at best. It was something that he knew Lloyd to be well aware of and that shared understanding directed his search to looking for specific distinctions rather than examining the whole. He quickly found the thin slivers of gold plating that circled the middle of the hilt and recalled the instrumental rarity as a national tradition that he became aware of during his days moonlighting as a leader of The Secret Society. Sliding his eyes over the lenses of his spectacles, he was able to make out some lettering along the flat of the blade, characters that would have been considered drivel to some of even the most knowledgeable weaponsmiths but somehow was clear to him.

"Themysciran," Noah reported while moving with the scimitar from one work table to the next, his deceptively agile fingers allowing him to easily place the blade underneath the emerald light being presented by the lens of a microscope-like machine that was positioned next to the battery of Cray supercomputers. "If you haven't confirmed it already, the scanner should be able to determine if the weapon has any specific supernatural properties but the customary signature is a tradition of Amazonian smiths."

"Yeah, and it's not like that crowd has ever been comfortable with spreading their trade secrets," Lloyd said in agreement, a sour grin on his thin lips. "Ollie came up with pretty much the same conclusion as you did. . . though his deduction came with a great many more phallic-related jokes than yours."

Noah rolled his eyes before turning to face the British-born half-demon. "So I suppose the next question in the procession is just what Luthor would be doing with Amazonian weaponry."

The Black Dog offered back a confirming nod. "And a stockpile of it at that. As you well know, this is the third time my group has stumbled upon stuff like this in as many weeks."

No longer occupied with having to avoid an unwanted inquiry, Noah was free to reach into the breast pocket of his work shirt. "Well, it is true that Luthor and Circe have a long history of joint operations dating back as far as the heyday of The Injustice Society," he noted while plucking his spectacles off the edge of his nose. "Horrific choices for group appellations aside, perhaps the witch's claws are dug deeper into her homeland than we had first anticipated."

Lloyd raised his eyebrows by a fraction of an inch as Noah wiped his glasses clean of any unwanted spots or bits of residue. It was the broadcasting of a subtle and silent cue that Noah caught with a practiced ease before he also felt the silent but palpable presence intruding upon them. Turning to face it as one, they met Batman's determination as the vigilante strode towards them. The ebony cowl was pooled around Bruce's neck but The Black Dog still felt the distinct aura of Gotham's dark knight and was left concerned by its unnecessary attendance. Resisting the urge to fire a knowing gaze at his bespectacled colleague, the half-demon waited with his typical patience.

"What about Themyscira?"

Lloyd found himself slightly relieved that Noah had chosen to take the opportunity to reply. "We were merely discussing the possibility that Circe may still have agents within the Amazons that could provide Luthor's forces with intel and weaponry."

"I'm failing to see how you could think otherwise," Batman quickly countered, the edgy and knowing candor continuing to draw the ire of his second-in-command. "The land may still be recovering from the damage done by The Sinestro Corps but Themyscira still has enough presence and authority to interfere with Luthor's ambitions. He would be a fool to avoid it and anyone who thought otherwise would be even more so."

Now it was Noah's turn to serve as the silent communicator, the hacker firing a quick look over his glasses at a bristling Black Dog. Having two decades of experience with tending to the festering blemish at hand, the computer wonk managed to pacify the British telepath with a silent warning even as the planet's premier detective turned to focus fully upon his potential opponent.

"I want you to investigate this matter, Black Dog. It may be a cosmetic ploy and just another move on the chessboard but we don't have enough solid information to simply avoid the possibility. You have full reign over your roster selections but make certain you return to Noah for a final briefing and approval."

Left to digest the words, Lloyd looked on in silence as Batman turned away from the once considerate discussion in order to leave the wreckage at a forcefully determined pace. Watching the older man stalk away, The Black Dog briefly felt the nagging presence of a rebellious portion of his temperament. Its contributions were blithely ignored, thanks in no small part to his efforts to reduce his seditious thoughts to the idea that a tiny Stephanie was perched on his shoulder and speaking her peace. If anything else, that functional bit of lunacy did wonders in searching for another way of going about things.

"So I'm supposed to just. . . investigate an entire nation," The Black Dog finally managed while crossing his arms over his chest. "Can't imagine why but I was hoping for something a little more specific than that."

Noah finally let out his carefully stored sigh as he placed his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose. "Well, one _could _consider such a lackadaisical attitude as a way of demonstrating his faith in your judgment."

"Oh, don't give me that twaddle," Lloyd snapped back. "And don't even start again with that talk of just letting this smooth itself out. I was right when I said that I should have hashed this out with the old man well before it came to this."

"He is grieving, Mister Thomas," Noah countered, the presence of so much patience startling even him. "He was tortured for six months before being left to weather the death of a student and friend and you're startled with the fact that he's expressing self-destructive emotions. Honestly, the lot of you children are always so insistent on wishing to see signs of emotion from the man and yet you act astonished when you actually witness them."

"No, I'm interested in seeing him act like somebody who's still willing to play a part in this squad. Now I've read about and witnessed his past behavior when it came to how he responded to losing one of his 'soldiers' and, to be frank, I would have much preferred the manic obsessions to whatever the rot is supposed to be. There's a difference between gutting it out and not knowing when to sit out a round."

The Calculator felt the need to reach for his glasses again but managed to resist it as he let out a nervous chuckle. Likewise, Lloyd was sorely tempted to continue with his derision but managed to simmer it into a doleful glare.

"He blames himself for what happened to Cecilia," Lloyd admitted, the annoyed young commander finally choosing to draw attention to the metaphorical elephant in the corner of the room. "He's trying to put all of it on his shoulders and I may not agree with it or how he's so willing to accept that but I can understand, mate. What I can't allow myself to understand is why I should keep listening to you when you say that I should just let this keep riding itself out. He's going to get somebody hurt if he keeps playing through this, either himself or another one of his 'precious students'."

Noah couldn't even bother to sigh this time. "We all have our share of near misses."

"Yeah, and a big part of our job is to figure out how to avoid the ones that can be prevented," Lloyd offered as a rejoinder, his logic too much for his older colleague to ignore. "Now let's look at how Officer Jayden Blake just got out of the hospital from a bullet wound that he only took because Batman thought he could take down that high-end drug deal by his lonesome. Take a gander at how Pennyworth and Doc Thompkins had to spend another sleepless night making certain their patient didn't go into a coma when Bruce went against their orders and went on patrol while still recovering from a concussion. Now do you think the old man would just stand by and twiddle his thumbs if I kept goin' on like this?"

Finally damning the consequences, Noah surrendered to his compulsive ways and plucked the glasses back off of his nose. "Please, Lloyd. We've agreed to your first solution. Just be patient for a little while longer." The middle-aged information gatherer knew the worn risk he was taking and was on the verge of fretting as the long seconds passed on until The Black Dog shook his head to and fro, a glimmer of a cross look flickering across his countenance.

"Fine. I'll table the matter until I get back from Themyscira," the half-demon declared, his concession earning him an approving nod from his older colleague before he turned toward the stone stairwell. "Damn it, Bruce. I'm a warrior, not a diplomat," he went on to mutter while continuing his steady journey back to some of the brighter aspects of the manor.

Unbeknownst to him though, Lloyd's surprisingly civil reaction served to inspire the man he had left behind to the point where Noah rose to his feet as the aged grandfather clock slid back to its assigned position. Focusing briefly on the clacking of his work shoes ringing up from the limestone beneath his feet, The Calculator's footsteps eventually brought him to the small coterie of rooms that lined the southern corridors of the catacombs. Taking a moment to collect his courage, the investigator made his way past one passageway lined with memorabilia and another pockmarked with the unique abrasions and scars that arose from Kara and Lloyd's continued efforts to hone their respective supernatural gifts before finally arriving at his destination. Looking in briefly at the dark but peaceful surroundings, he waited patiently at the erstwhile doorway to the meditation chambers until Bruce apparently so it worthy to break free from his preparations.

"Can I help you?"

The nearly caustic inquiry did little to settle Noah's lingering unease concerning his surroundings. After all, he had long grown accustomed with finding comfort from what he knew and what he could find with the tools of his trade. He knew the power that could come from gleaning off the work of others and making it his own but the idea of applying those principles in order to search inward for answers still seemed to go against the conclusions of the hacker's fixations. As a matter of fact, it suddenly occurred to him that he would have been a lot better off if he had taken the time to check the recent security footage in order to determine just how much of his previous conversation that his old friend managed to pick up.

Knowledge was power, after all.

"You must remember that we are all concerned for your safety," Noah began, his honest words earning him his second derisive snort of the day. "The Black Dog fears that your recent. . . miscues during patrol would interfere with the efficiency of the group. Given as he serves as a commanding officer in the majority of our field missions, it is only natural that Lloyd should have a vested interest concerning the sum total of our operations."

"Ever the professional," Batman coldly offered back. "Since you're in the mind of passing back messages, perhaps you could remind him that I have a rather extensive history in the field of taking care of myself."

"And perhaps I should remind you that I am in possession of an extensive medical file stating that you occasionally grow deaf to your limitations," Noah countered, the caustic tone finally managing to wear away at his patience. Granted, the realization of what he had said caused him to blanch only a moment after the fact but, to his credit, the bespectacled Misfit was able to convince himself to keep pushing the point. "Bruce, despite what you may convince yourself to believe, our association with you has allowed us all to recognize when you choose to engage in this kind of self-destructive behavior. And, granted, this determination to continue your chosen duties may be construed to be far more noble than engaging in some. . . alcohol-fueled transgressions or other bits of tomfoolery that you present to the media in order to obliterate your public image but that's not enough to excuse you fully from what you're doing now."

Despite the impressive supply of darkness looming around him, Noah was able to determine that Bruce's blue eyes were levying a heavy weight as they finally revealed themselves. Just as he expected, they bore the thoughts of a man who had already seen far too much and the sympathy that he had stored up in the midst of Lloyd's criticisms began to swell once more.

"It's a foolish thought, isn't it?"

"What is?" Noah asked back, the answer to the question having already taken a firm root into the forefront of his thoughts.

"I honestly thought I had figured out how to save them all this time." The brief sputter of laughter sounded almost perversely wrong but Bruce found that he couldn't stop it in time. "Maybe it was just that it's been so long since. . . God, Noah. Why do I do this to myself?"

"Mostly because you are a profoundly noble idiot," Noah replied with impressive immediacy, the scathing retort almost an instinct now after enduring three years of such madness. "However, in spite of your ridiculously lengthy list of faults and abominable behaviors, you have still managed to gather a great many people who are willing to endure the frustrations you hurl at them. Were I ever concerned about my output in the archetypical social exercise, I suppose I would feel rather envious."

Bruce shut his eyes once again, his strong hands coming to rest on his thighs as he continued to sit in the lotus position. "So how am I supposed to think in any other way than what I'm doing now, old friend? I'm leading these good people into the darkness when I can't even keep myself safe from it. How am I supposed to look at any of them and not think of all the ways that I may fail them?"

Noah allowed the weight of it all to sink in as he moved to sit at the side of his oldest friend. A handful of the scars along his back grumbled their protests as the skin and muscle slid against the contours of his shirt but he did his best to avoid it. Taking care of such matters was what luxuriant bath salts and his ridiculously expensive computer chair were for.

"Just keep doing what you can, my friend," he advised, the nebulous advice soon met with another lingering space of silence. "Perhaps you could start with remembering that I am still a criminal in the eyes of Themyscira's legal authorities and, as such, it would most likely not benefit any of us if it was left to me to tell them that they should be expecting guests."

* * *

Given the she spent the bulk of her mornings guiding the next generation through the wonderful world of education, one would think that Helena Bertenelli would understand the value of a good night's sleep. And, to her credit, she had fully intended to call it an early night after a six-hour patrol of the housing complexes and back alleyways still being refurbished after Rupert Thorne had fled from Gotham nearly six months ago. It was just a fortunate circumstance that she happened to come upon a familiar face only moments before she was about to give in to her good judgment, a face connected to a body that she had always thought to look awfully good pressed up against her own.

She sought to confirm that hypothesis only a second after she had finished scaling down to the balcony of her luxurious loft with the aid of her zip line, her skilled fingers easily tearing away at the orange and brown cowl around the sun-roughened scalp of Thomas Blake. Working as a passionate tandem, the two vigilantes managed to slide open the glass partition and stumble their way into the living room. Starved lips and busy hands continued their work as the young couple continued tearing away articles of clothing at their convenience, the clattering of metal projectiles and buckles highlighting the clamor as Catman and Huntress sought to make up for lost time. Her thin supply of patience got the better of Helena at one point as she began to pry her fingers against Blake's armor in an attempt to tear it away until her lover took the hint and stripped it away himself.

Groaning as the red-haired hunter ran the tip of his tongue across the left side of her collar bone, she still somehow managed to press her fingers against a good many of the scars that sullied the broad torso of the former criminal and current hunter. Some of them held almost frightening tales behind them involving the mighty beasts of the Serengeti while others carried on with memories of bad decisions or steep prices for a good deed but the ones that Helena had grown to admire the most were the slight scratches that she managed to put together during some of her wilder times. Though not the least bit interested in sexual psychology (a practiced avoidance buoyed quite nicely by Oracle's occasional rants and edgy speeches in the months since her relationship with Thomas had started to take shape), she had started to notice the appeal that came with identifying one's territory.

Her right shoulder let out a creak of complaint as it was forced against the border of her bedroom door in their distracted attempt to make their way to the bedroom but that inconvenience was easily resolved as she felt Thomas's rough fingers tickle against her firm abdominal muscles. She had taken to covering her midriff again after the irritation from the scars along her stomach had finally begun to dwindle but it was still quite nice to receive some unique appreciation for all the labor she had forced her way through.

A lot of people had questioned her about the revealing costume she had taken to wearing in the recent past but she knew that only a portion of it could be blamed on the toxic influences of Doctor Thomas Elliot. The fact of the matter was that she had been trying to use her screw-up and the disfigurements that came with it as a motivation. The Joker had made her feel weak in the aftermath of No Man's Land, the mistakes and foolish errors she had made over the course of those long and painful months finally punctuated with every blood-drenched bullet hole and taunting word that pale-faced bastard had to give her. Helena felt that she had to prove that she was willing to go on despite the hurdles and the trauma and she figured the best way of doing so was her way. She chose to push herself through thousands of sit-ups and crunches even as the connecting tissues still struggled to secure their newfound fastenings. She proudly presented the scars that marred her for all to see, taunting everyone who thought that they could get in the way of her ambitions.

_This is how The Joker, the worst monster that nearly anyone had ever known, had tried to kill her_, she chose to crow to allies and enemies alike_. If he couldn't get the job done than what the hell makes you think __**you **__can?_

Helena wisely refocused her thoughts as she felt the weight of the bed against her back. Sandwiched as she was between the lush mattress and her lover's muscular frame, the Huntress curled into the unique pressure and flashed a Cheshire Cat smile as Thomas's clever left hand snaked underneath her bra.

"And here I was hoping I wouldn't have to interrupt anything."

Displaying her warrior instincts, Helena nimbly rolled to the far side of her bed and swept up her one-handed crossbow, the one article of her battle armor that she hadn't abandoned carelessly on the path to the bedroom, and pointed it directly to where she had followed the sound of the unknown voice. Prepared for nearly anything the world could throw at her, Helena still found herself thrown for a loop as Thomas moved to flick on the lamp stationed at the nearby end table to reveal a woman casually floating above her bed. Thinking that she should have recognized the mystery guest and feeling a pinch of frustration that she hadn't, Helena narrowed her eyes dangerously even as the blonde-haired interloper with disturbingly bright blue eyes seemed to regard the bolt attached to the release mechanism of her crossbow with a slight trace of amusement.

"What the hell are you doing here?" spat out Catman.

"You know her?" The spiky sensation that ran up the apex of Helena's spine was already on its way before the vigilante could put a stop to it. (_Italian for I should have known better)_

"At ease, Miss Bertenelli," the interloper calmly replied before Thomas could begin to sputter out an explanation. "Oh, and before there are any more misunderstandings, I assure you that Mister Blake knew just about as much as you did about why I'm here tonight."

The _PAFT _of Helena's crossbow was soon met with the odd sound of metal striking and somehow bouncing off human skin. The steel-tipped but altogether ineffective projectile twirled through the air before coming to an ungraceful stop against the carpet as the uninvited guest casually examined the slight tear in her black cashmere sweater.

"Ooooooookay," the intruder said slowly as both Bertenelli and Blake stood still and silent, "now I know why Scandal was so insistent on making certain that my coming here was a surprise." Then, after taking a moment to regain what little of her composure that had been lost, she turned to meet one of the confused stares being shot her way. "She also said that you usually make eggs when placed in a tense situation so is there any chance that I can get an omelet?"

"I'll see what I can do," Catman coolly replied, the time he was given to recover and the jolt of initiative delivered by his lover's crossbow allowing the hunter to quickly regain his usually unruffled composure. He felt it waver slightly as he felt Helena's hostile stare burning a hole through his back but he continued to make his way to the cramped kitchenette in Helena's otherwise spacious loft. After all, the true hallmark of a hunter was to recognize the grounds around him and see when there was no safe prey to be taken down.

Speaking of which, the once levitating trespasser remained unflustered while hunkering down at the nearby chair where Helena would often watch the sunrise. "Please allow me to introduce myself, Huntress. My name is Kara Zor-el and I'm here on behalf on a number of different acquaintances."

Huntress tilted her head to one side, her wicked glare holding firm and steady even as the vigilante slowly lowered her crossbow. "Are any of them somebody I happen to know?"

The former Supergirl provided a unflustered smirk. "Some of them," she divulged. "However, the only one of importance here is somebody that you've apparently been looking to get a hold of and I'm here to give you that opportunity."

"Mind being a little less cryptic?" asked Helena, the short-tempered crime fighter already lining up the best way to put an arrow straight through the girl's left eye socket. In response, Kara calmly steepled her fingers together in a manner that she hoped would strike a chord with her hostile audience.

"I'll keep it short too. How would you like to work with Batman?"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I'm going to keep this thing short and simple since it's been three weeks since I last updated and the longer I spend cobbling this unnecessary thing the longer it will take to get the sum product out there for your perusal. Then again, if you're reading this now then it's already been published so the real question here is why I should be concerned with the length of something that I willingly created.

Meh, I've done stupider things.

And speaking of seemingly idiotic matters, I've already had a number of people ask me about my opinion regarding the future of Stephanie Brown as it concerns the current DC canon. I say current because this particular world seems to shift with the passing of the weekly tides so, as far as I know, you may be reading this several years later and Stephanie has had a sex change in order to become the new Nightwing. Suffice it to say, we are speaking on the matter of Barbara Gordon seemingly being de-aged, given her legs back, and donning the mantle of Batgirl in place of our favorite little foul-mouthed Green Lantern.

Now, I could say how ridiculous it is to take away a character that did and could continue to serve as an example for people with physical disabilities in the interest of restoring a 50-year-old label. I could argue how Stephanie, much like the woman she replaced, was one of the few female comic book characters that could ring a chord with the age and gender rage that DC Comics is supposedly attempting to gain a tighter hold of by possibly retconning Barbara Gordon's dynamic character development.

On the other hand, I could also say that there are literally dozens of perfectly good ideas in the comic industry that have been thrown away by the whim of the writer or the lure of the dollar. It's the same reason why Jean-Paul Valley became Batman for a cup of coffee, it's why Wanda Maximoff suddenly become a delusional psychotic and that's why the current Robin is a ten-year-old murderer-at-large whose violent past actions are all supposed to be forgiven because he won the genetic lottery.

So, to make a surprisingly long story short, I honestly couldn't care less about what DC wants to do with Barbara and what they don't want to do with Stephanie. The ladies are their toys, after all, and I've already spent five years building up a perfectly good sandbox of my own.

Speaking of which, let's get to work on that new sand castle!

* * *

_Issue #126 Preview_

Great Caesar's Ghost, do the questions abound or what? The Huntress as Batman's new partner? Who thought this was a good idea? Did anyone ever bother to ask around if anybody else was using her at the time? How is The Black Dog supposed to find a team to investigate an island consisting of nothing but gorgeous Amazons and _not _start an international incident? And is there any chance that this hard-working author can get an omelet?

Find out the answers to some of these questions in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Representative Shortcomings. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	127. Representative Shortcomings

Issue #127

Representative Shortcomings

_Gotham – Loft of Helena Bertenelli – 5:21 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Exactly _why _I should give the slightest bit of a damn about Batman?"

Still seated quite comfortably in Helena Bertenelli's reading chair, Kara had little difficulty with crafting an appropriate answer for the furiously angry vigilante. After all, she had made certain to learn everything she could about the woman behind the infamous Huntress, her diligent efforts focusing sharply upon the brutal elimination of much of Helena's family that served as the coda of one of the most brutal mafia wars in all of Gotham's history. Torn between enduring the heartache of such a profound loss while forced to endure the inherited slings of arrows that came with being the heiress to a fallen crime family, a then 17-year-old Helena Bertenelli chose to devote her life to eliminating the criminal elements that had shattered her world from the inside out. The decade-and-a-half that followed proved to be a cornucopia of successes and failures. Her weeks as a rising star in the JLA and the years spent serving as a focal member of Barbara Gordon's Birds of Prey continued to mix violently with her woeful months spent as Gotham's dark defender in the early days of its No Man's Land and the early portions of her career where she had often been viewed as a more dangerous criminal than the ones she placed into her crosshairs. She had found a life to be proud of but was still constantly victimized both by the failures of her past and her insecurities she had towards maintaining herself through the present.

_Hmmmm. Let's see. She was born into money and guilty of the fact that she received it, her family was taken from her at an emotionally critical period, she took inspiration from an ordinary person who had obtained the status of a mythical hero in her desperate thoughts, she's constantly conflicted by her own imperfections and she has an impressive but chaotic history of romance and friction-filled relationships that is currently headed by a vigilante who is just a weeeeee bit obsessed with cats. . ._

"WOULD YOU STOP STARING AT ME AND GIVE ME A STRAIGHT ANSWER!"

"Ah, and she responds to impatience with barely controlled anger," Kara replied. "Goodness, why _ever _would we think that you'd be a good partner for Batman?"

Helena knitted her forehead as if she were trying to will her way through an impressively powerful aneurysm. "What? Who is 'we'? Who the hell are you? How the hell do you know Thomas?" Huntress paused to take a breath as she drifted the fingers of her right hand through her hair above her right ear. "Okay. Fine. Why should I be surprised in the least that one of Batman's friends would break into my home and happen to know everything about me?"

To her credit, Kara made no attempt to hide her sheepish smile and that seemed to edge the hot-blooded Italian-American vigilante closer to her usual practical demeanor. "Listen. I'm sure you're a wonderfully nice, creepy person but I am in a very good place in my life now," Helena continued on, the slightest hint of a Gothamite twang dousing her forcibly calm words. "And even if this offer was legitimate I can safely say that I've got nothing to gain from hitching my wagon to Gotham's superhero trailer park."

The Last Daughter of Krypton kept the silence going with a steady gaze that served its purpose in fraying the nerves of her unwilling host. "You're lying," she said simply, the instinctual and infinitesimal blanch that registered on Helena's cheeks providing Kara with a dead giveaway before the defensive barrage of anger set in.

"Look, chica. If you want to call me a liar than that's all well and good but if you want to do that _and _break into my home then you better be patient enough to wait and see what happens when I put a crossbow bolt into your eye socket."

"Well, I've got no doubt that you've got the talent to pull that off," Kara said primly, the heroine crossing her long legs despite the slight confines of her black dress pants. "That being said, I've been watching bits and pieces of your patrols over the last several days and I spent just as long reading about your history and how it ties so closely to the gentleman in question. Everyone I've spoken to about you has mentioned how you were inspired by Batman's war against violent crime. Now I realize that you have your own intentions and motivations but it seems to me that he was the one who gave you the proof you needed to realize that you could make a difference. You could protect people from suffering the losses that you were forced to put on your shoulders."

"You're acting like Batman's the only crime fighter out there," Huntress said with a snort even as she struggled to keep her sea-green eyes from shifting away from Kara's gaze.

"No, he's just the one that's always mattered the most to you," Kara countered. "You followed his footsteps by doing battle with men like Rupert Thorne and Roland Daggett, you fell in love with the first man that Batman had taken under his wing and, when that fell apart, you allied yourself with a woman who was not only inspired by Batman but proved to be just as driven towards the task of showing that you could stand up on your own two feet away from his notice."

The calm interviewer felt no need to elaborate upon just who the previously mentioned woman had to be. Likewise, Huntress seemed perfectly satisfied with allowing Kara to continue to play her hand.

"You looked to Batman as a source of strength in times when you felt conflicted or confused about what you could do in a world that you couldn't find a place in. There's no shame in that, of course. If you accept our offer then you'll discover that you're not the only one to have fallen into that psychological minefield. What I'm really presenting to you though is an opportunity to help a person in need just as they have done for you."

Kara had guessed that the words would strike a chord with her uncertain host and the definitive hesitation that suddenly dominated Helena's features quickly proved that she had. What she hadn't counted on was how the curiosity suddenly gave its way back to anger. Even her own senses couldn't quite place whether it was because she had hit too close to home or the fact that all the mistakes that she had made earlier with her awkward introduction were starting to hit home but the fact remains that she was soon left to deal with the cold, shielding resentment that remained behind.

"What. . . what is this? You just barge into my apartment, offer me a job with a guy who has done nothing but run me through the ringer and then you have the nerve to talk about what you think is wrong with me? Get the hell out! Get out now!"

Fully realizing her miscue, Kara rose to her feet. Her contriteness was genuine and born from a multitude of valid sources but the half-Kryptonian soon recognized that none of it would appease the recipient thus she quickly chose to send her trepidation scurrying and replaced it with some cool detachment.

"I apologize for my behavior, Miss Bertenelli. That being said, I hope you will give the offer some consideration. Just know that we require someone of your skills and expertise and we would like to give you the opportunity to see if you'd be a good fit. I'll leave now so that you can give the matter some honest thought but time is of the essence. I shall contact you tomorrow."

Kara had made certain to keep her steps slow and precise as she spoke so that she would arrive at the edge of Helena's bedroom window when the last bit of her pitch was finished. Her potential colleague realized what was going to happen a second too late and by the time The Huntress had reached the open transom Kara was already halfway back to Wayne Manor.

"Let me save you the fuckin' trouble, puta!" Helena screamed out, the angry crime fighter decidedly unaware and uncaring that Kara could still hear her. "Stay the hell out of my life and stay the _fuck _away from me!"

As convenience would have it, this was the time when Thomas Blake returned to the bedroom bearing two omelet-laden plates. Owing thanks to his impressive reflexes and battle-honed instincts, Catman would only have to endure several seconds of his lover's withering gaze before he was able to fully retreat back to the kitchen with his unexpectedly large breakfast in tow. With Helena now alone and frustrated, she was diverted enough to be startled as her answering machine suddenly let out a harsh beep that nearly pushed her into sending a crossbow bolt straight through the wretched mound of plastic and wiring.

"Well, that certainly could have gone better. Granted, it went pretty much the way I figured it would but it still could have gone better."

Helena suddenly felt her potential aneurysm roaring back to life.

"Oracle. I should have fucking knew it."

* * *

_Wayne Manor – 1__st__ Floor Day Room – 6:21 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Given his choppy history as a commanding officer, The Black Dog had never wanted to feel like a substitute teacher when he should have been a colonel leading his troops into battle with the firm, guiding hand of his general. Of course, the differences between the military and whatever the hell he happened to be a part of occasionally seemed to be too many to count, a feeling only magnified as he delivered a cross look to the cluster of circumstantial students milling around in front of him. Calming himself with a brief glimpse of the sun rising from the purplish-black clouds of the early morning, the British half-demon attempted to placate his noisy group by amping up his glare to a degree where he could emulate a certain stern, bat-eared taskmaster that all of them had come to respect, if not appreciate. Of course, it only took about a second to recognize that his attempt had garnered all the success that a horsefly would have in a head-to-head conflict with a 16-wheeler and that prompted the telepath to try another track. Thinking quickly, he inserted a well-practiced image of the late Ra's Al-Ghul singing _I Left My Heart in San Francisco_ into the cerebral cortexes of his brethren, the coarse baritone debacle punctuated quite nicely with the old man's skeletal torso and gaunt legs placed fully on display by the neon-green G-string that the environmental terrorist had apparently chosen to flaunt in this neurological nightmare.

After five seconds of anguished squawking and the rapid shuffling of feet, Lloyd was rewarded with the silence he needed to begin the briefing.

"Gentlemen, as much as I would like to start the day off with some fresher material," The Black Dog began. "The results of last night's investigation presented us with enough proof to goad our leader into looking at another possible angle that Luthor may be employing to marshal his forces."

"Yeah, that's some pretty damn old matters, boss," Roy Harper concurred, the red-haired sharpshooter still wincing from his comrade's telepathic invasion. "You might have been better off with a knock-knock joke."

"Very well, then permit to tell you who's there," Lloyd naturally countered, the riposte earning him a trio of exasperated groans. "Now we all know that Circe was moonlighting for Luthor while serving as one of Neron's avatars so it's still fairly safe to say that this witch is probably going to be playing a part in whatever that bald bastard has in store for us. This allegiance, as you can imagine, brings another potentially dangerous element into the mix."

"Themyscira," Wally West replied, his already shabby Central City Royals t-shirt still stained from his earlier efforts to make breakfast for his family. "Or, more specifically, all the godlike warrior women and the thousands of years and technology that are on it."

"Now we all know there's more to it than that," Lloyd interceded with a knowing tone. "The Isle of the Amazons was already undergoing internal friction well before The Sinestro Corps came roaring into town. Though still officially labeled as an autonomous collective, the United Nations did choose to step in and delivered aid to help smooth out the tension and repair a fair cop of the damages. . ."

"But there's still a lot of reasons for these ladies to be angry about the world at large," noted Oliver Queen, the eldest of the briefing's attendees being the only lad still in his "work apparel", as it were. "Then you throw in Circe and her couple millennia worth of experience in the fields of scamming and manipulation and you've got something that could be a helluva lot uglier than a bunch of C-grade supervillains or over-entitled crew cuts looking for a bigger paycheck."

"Precisely," Lloyd said back. However, after a brief bit of thought and a tilt of his head he added, "Well, without the pointless and completely unnecessary potshot at the American military."

"No, there's always a point to bashing the big wigs," Oliver fired back with a hasty chime, the knowing snort that preceded his words bringing the liberal fanatic a volley of annoyed looks from his younger comrades. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to save up some of that mercy of yours for the war hawks up on Capitol Hill who are still siding with that corporate fat cat even after he went batshit crazy and got kicked out of The White House?"

"_Whatever _the case," Wally broke in, the speedster demonstrating a degree of patience that was quite reminiscent of his late uncle in times like these. "So are we thinking that something might be happening in Themyscira and that we're the ones to look into it?"

"Right in one, Wallace," Lloyd replied, the youngest of the quartet quite relieved by the maturity of his longtime sparring partner. "Batman has already been on the horn with Amanda Waller and we'll be expected at the Themysciran embassy at 22:00 hours our time so whoever's goin' will have plenty of time to rest and prepare."

"Well, just because we're expected doesn't mean that we're wanted," Harper couldn't help but mention. "Any chance that we've got somebody on their side that can help grease the wheels? Maybe a certain Titan turned Amazon then back again?"

The Black Dog shook his head with a slight note of disappoint. 'Sorry, mate. Troy may be on her way back from her work on Thangaar but she's still en route within the Oan transport systems. By the time she returns we should be good and gone. That being said, Batman has ensured me that his allies within the Amazons will make certain that we don't come into any harm so long as we don't choose to run into ourselves."

"Well, you'll pardon me if that doesn't ease my worries about ya, kid," Green Arrow replied, his candor fearless as he crossed his arms over his chest while propping his emerald boots against a nearby coffee table. "Consider me part of the team. With the window of time we've got and the supersonic travel service sitting to my right, I should be able to check in on the kid and catch the thirty-five winks I'll need before havin' to get back here."

"Oh ho, hold on a second there," Roy Harper butted in while Wally busied himself with muttering something about unwanted burdens and metaphorical taxi services. "Ollie, the last time you went to Themyscira you ended up getting stripped to your bloomers, tied up, and placed in a bamboo cage."

"I got out of the cage!" Ollie exclaimed, his counterpoint carrying a hint of impatient irritability.

"Yeah, and then you were chased down by an Amazon hunting tribe until you nearly drowned yourself by diving off a 100-foot cliff. . ."

"And Mia and 'Pretty Bird' fished me out of there!" Green Arrow continued on, the veteran taking on the casual candor that had frequently tempted Roy towards tearing his hair out throughout the years he spent as Ollie's junior partner. "And I may not be quite so eager to stare at his stocking-clad legs but I'm pretty damn certain that the boss man here can keep me safe just as well as Dinah."

Noting Ollie's knowing smirk, Roy's stunned vexation, and Wally's impressive degree of nonchalance, Lloyd felt that the only way to respond was with a neutral raising of the eyebrows. "Much obliged, Green Arrow," he finally said as Arsenal slumped against the work table he had chosen to sit down at and began to lightly slam his head against his folded forearms. "Since we'll likely be working through the Themysciran officials with greater knowledge of the world at large, yours and Wally's status as international, glory-hounding heroes should be able to smooth the troubled waters quite nicely. Arsenal will remain on standby in case the others need another set of hands."

"Woah, woah. I'm on the bench?" Roy squawked back as he rose from his mild display of self-abuse. "Come on, Boss Man! Show some love for the man with the magic gun!"

The look in Lloyd's hazel eyes clearly registered that The Misfits' second-in-command had expected his friend's curveball. "This is love through restraint, my friend. More specifically, I'd like you to avoid whatever punishment you'd receive from what you may do with your 'magic gun' on an island populated mostly by immortal warrior women while _we _dodge the chance of being caught in the potential international incident to follow."

Roy's momentary sputtering somehow managed to drown out Wally's chuckling. "Oh, _HELL _no! You mean to tell me that you trust Ollie to keep his pecker in check more than me?"

"Yes," Lloyd replied along with Ollie and Wally, the magnitude of their shared intonation enough to briefly set Arsenal into a sulk. "C.C. is already working on the intel summary of the locations that we'll likely have access to during our trip. As always, I will expect all of you to be fully informed of what we plan on doing and that _should _make up for whatever juvenile foolishness the lot of us will engage in without Kara around to keep us in line."

"Ah, speaking on behalf of the ladies once again, I see" Ollie noted while Roy and Wally rose up from their respective seats on their way to whatever destinations they chose to pursue. _"And, on another note, maybe you can exchange my future good behavior by telling me what you __**really **__want to get accomplished on Themyscira?"_

Impressed as he was by the sudden transition to discussion through their telepathic link, Lloyd managed to keep himself collected. _"I'm planning on getting my job done," _he began, the Brit intrigued with how the team's newest recruit would respond.

"_Yeah, and that's a job that you could've started doin' the first time we found Themysciran weaponry in Lex's clutches rather than the third,_" Ollie countered knowingly, his countenance just as undetached as his commander's. _"So what's changed between now and a week ago?"_

"_Well, I can't rightly say that it's any of your business, Queen. Unless, of course, you mind sharing why you're suddenly so intrigued about meeting up with Wonder Woman?"_

Green Arrow provided a cool smirk.

"Well, how about that? I guess it isn't my business after all."

* * *

_G.C.P.D. Headquarters – Rooftop – 8:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

For the first time in a long time, Commissioner James Gordon wasn't entirely certain of what to think. As any good detective should, he sought to alleviate the problem by examining the world around him and taking what clues he could find. Naturally, his first examination quickly brought him to the bat-shaped insignia that lit up the late evening skyline but that failed to bring forth any kind of revelations. It was true that the signal had been a sporadic sight over the course of the many months before but that only explained the buzz of car horns and cheers from motorists passing around the concrete behemoth that had replaced the aged brick of what had been his workplace for the better part of three decades. It seemed to represent a good deal of the best and a sizable deal of the worst of what had become of his life in this grand, imperfect city but the fact remained that The Batsignal did little to answer what was on his mind.

It was with no small hint of reluctance that Gordon shifted his contemplations from machine to man, the buzzing of the nearby spotlight not enough to interfere with his natural conclusions concerning the man that the signal was meant to summon. As he awaited the arrival of his expected guest, the old man recalled the last handful of encounters with his longtime comrade and the haunted disposition that seemed to follow the shrouded knight no matter what way the conversation shifted. It was a phenomenon that Gordon had seen plenty of times before, his seemingly endless time spent as an officer of the law allowing him many an opportunity to examine how he or others worked with would respond to the loss of someone they held dear. A wife, a child, a current or former partner or anything else in between, the acceptance of loss was a definition of life that the commissioner had come to know quite well. It inspired him to seek stipends that would provide counseling for grieving officers and detectives when all of his traditional instincts bellowed at him to reject any idea that broke clean from the image of the traditional gumshoe, that hardened creature of the streets that sought relief in harmful vices that would only provide more harm than good.

The integrity of his theory hit even closer to home as Gordon's aged ears picked up the ruffling of sturdy leather in the wind. Turning to greet the sound, the detective looked on silently as Batman landed on the rooftop with a familiar and graceful ease. His old friend appeared to look no different from the dichotomy that had greeted him in the handful of weeks past, the masked man's powerful frame drawing desperate attention away from the tenuously supported soul that lay underneath. Many were the times when Wayne had met him alone when he expected additional company but it was a rare feeling that the absence would be so pronounced, like it didn't seem right.

Gordon continued to look Batman over, the veteran well aware that the vigilante would quickly grow irritated at such a silent but harmless confrontation. Here was a man who had bogged himself down into the impossibility of perfection, a desperate quest to make up for the mistakes of the past that was tended with such conscientious care that it would inevitably do more harm than good. It wasn't the first time that the aged commissioner had chosen to meet this beast and he was quite certain that it wouldn't be the last either. With every Harvey Dent and Jason Todd and Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown the fortressed monster would resurface, grim and determined and dangerous as before but it still hurt the old man to see it return.

Of course, it wasn't as if he could completely place the blame for the transgression on Batman's overfull shoulders. Both Kara and Lloyd had been kind enough to inform him about what had occurred in Hashmalamum or wherever they had gone to and were quite patient in answering any questions he was compelled to ask. He had been grateful for the willingness that the young soldiers had displayed in unveiling the playing field before them, so much so that he felt no need for resentment upon discovering that he had been unconsciously asked to bear a portion of their newfound burden. Bruce Wayne desperately needed as many people as he could get around him in order to be reminded of the good that he could still do and Jim chose to willingly embrace the role with the familiarity of a favorite overcoat being broken out after the long Gotham autumn.

"I was told that you had some information for me," Batman began, the firm and unclenching manner in which he attempted to hold Gordon's gaze revealing his irritation. In response, Commissioner Gordon briefly chastised himself for having the wisdom to give up smoking and looked back at The Batman with all the directness he had been looking for.

"Well, that would depend on whether or not I could trust you with the information."

The brief twitching of Batman's jaw revealed that the words had struck a literal and metaphorical nerve. "Please tell me you're joking, Commissioner," he then replied with forced patience.

"Oh, I'm doing anything but," Gordon reiterated while moving to readjust the right side of his glasses before it slipped askew. "This is police business and that means I head up who receives the work and which orders my men receive so I need to know who I'm dealing with. Now, is this the Batman that wants to bring these people in the efficient way that I ask out of my people or is it the Batman that will want to get the job done no matter who gets caught in the crossfire."

The ferocity in Batman's mannerisms made a brief reemergence before the guilt finally managed to stuff it down. The harshness of the transition was nearly enough to convince Gordon that he had been too hard but, just as a leader was expected to do, he continued to shy away from the easy salve in preference of the long-term solution.

"Y'know, I never said how sorry I am about Cecilia. She was a good kid and a fine soldier."

The white lenses that shielded Batman's eyes harshly slid shut. Several moments passed as the dull hum of the Batsignal provided the only distinct slivers of noise outside of the suddenly shrill cries of a nesting falcon. An odd crinkling sound then impeded on Gordon's ears and he looked on silently as Batman slid the cowl over his head to reveal a phenomenally fatigued Bruce Wayne.

"She was better than either one of us, Jim."

Gordon provided a stern nod. "A lot of them have been a helluva lot better than us, old friend."

Bruce shut his eyes once again while swiping his head from side to side. "This one was different, Jim. The other ones may have slipped through my fingers but the decisions were their own. They made their. . ." The man regarded as one of the brightest minds in human history was suddenly at a profound lack of intelligent things to say. "Well, what I meant to say. . ."

"It's quite all right, Batman," Gordon broke in with a conciliatory raise of his left palm. "Believe me, you haven't known patience until you've heard my daughter rant and ramble for the umpteenth time about how she never should have opened that door. The difference is that she's learned to forgive herself for it. Hell, I think I'm closer to forgiving myself for it than _you _are. . ."

"I'm the reason she's gone."

The snappish rejoinder was hoarsely delivered and imbued with enough self-blame to tempt Gordon into walking over and slapping the taste out of the vigilante's mouth but the salt-and-pepper haired commissioner managed to hold his tongue. After all, to do otherwise would have been painting himself with quite the brush of hypocrisy.

"Fire fighters aren't forced to run into a burning building, old friend," Gordon replied while finally plucking his black-rimmed spectacles off the bridge of his nose. "A police officer may be sent to the scene of a violent crime but it's up to them to determine what they have to sacrifice to get the job done. They might be forced to follow orders or be reprimanded if they can't do their job but the decision to put their lives on the line is ultimately up to them. Don't insult that young woman's intelligence by saying that she didn't know about what the consequences could have been."

"This wasn't us responding to an emergency. We had the option to let the situation unfold. I was the one who ordered them directly into Neron's domain and they willingly trusted me with their lives. It was _my _responsibility to make certain that the right decisions were made so that they could come home safely and I failed."

Gordon let out a familiar sigh, the same familiar exhalation that he had employed in countless clashes with Barbara, brought forth during a slight handful of friendly arguments with Nightwing, and had made use of on at least several dozen occasions with the man presently brooding in front of him. "Well, if you want to look at it from that direction then I suppose you did fail. Now from what _I've _heard, the work that you and your team did most likely saved millions of lives. Are you telling me that's not something that a person like Cecilia wouldn't proudly sacrifice herself for?"

"This has nothing to do with pride!" Batman roared back.

"No, this doesn't have anything to do with _her _pride," Gordon calmly countered. "Your pride, on the other hand, is wounded because you think you made a mistake and suddenly that's more worth tending to than that girl's memory or the thoughts of everyone else she left behind."

The commissioner usually considered himself to be fairly skilled in the art of predicting how an increasingly nasty situation might go down. As it stood, he figured he had about an 80 percent chance of remaining physically unharmed in the wake of his old friend's cold resentment but that still wasn't enough to keep the old warhorse from straying from his meager defenses. Looking on quietly as Batman hastily slid his mask back over his weary countenance, he was surprised by the _click_ of a latch and the sound of a metal door swinging open to make way for the portly presence behind it.

"Eh, no need for that, Brucie," Harvey Bullock calmly announced as he stepped through the doorway a good three seconds after Batman had donned his cowl. "I read the papers so iznot like I haven't see that polished mug o' yours before."

Jolted away from his mental calculations, Gordon briefly looked back and forth between his calm lieutenant and the annoyed but surprising calm vigilante and quietly determined the odds. "Well, he is a detective, after all," he then simply noted after Batman's glare had won the day. "And I'm certain that Lieutenant Bullock has been around this department long enough to realize the consequences of giving away such privileged information."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your truss on, Sherlock," Bullock replied, the molars on the right side of his jaw digging a bit deeper into the wooden toothpick between them. "'Sides, it's a lot more entertainin' watchin' Gage and the rest of the greenhorns trying to figger it out for themselves."

Unveiling the hunter's grin that had preceded the arrest or incapacitation of hundreds of criminals, the slightly rounded investigator took in Batman's calculating stare and brusquely spat out his toothpick. "Sorry to hear about that lady partner of yours, Bats. She was a good kid." Offering a moment for what one could consider an act of commiseration, Bullock continued on. "So I'm guessin' that we're here to talk about the new game in town?"

Gordon met his comrade's deceptive efficiency with upturned eyebrows. "Well, the fact remains that this city may be on its way to another full-fledged gang war. Now I think we all know enough of the score to recognize that the important goal here is to keep this conflict inward before it can spill onto the streets and put even more innocent lives on the line."

"Well, that's easier said than done, Commish," Bullock noted, the lieutenant's stubby fingers digging into the vest pocket of his wrinkled gray trench coat in search of another toothpick. "Like you said, the undercover guys have been fishin' up tales that this undercutting has been goin' on for a lot longer than any of us imagined. These new guys are putting stuff on the table that the scumbags-that-be aren't dealing with here and the services that are already bein' provided are now getting offered at a lower cost."

Batman confirmed Bullock's conclusions with a nod, the vigilante not looking surprised that the G.C.P.D. had managed to dig so deeply into the matter. "It's just a permutation of the simplest of business tactics. Group A recognizes their advantage in the competition and chooses to exploit it until Group B is tempted into a rash decision that would ultimately do them more harm than good."

"Yeah, except that this 'rash decision' may end up with us cleaning up a whole bunch of bodies," Bullock pointed out, his tone cool but caustic. "Oh, and are we supposed to be keeping a looks out for 'Group B' now? 'Cause I don't recall which page in the detective's manual that said that we was supposed to be lookin' out for the safety of The Grove Street Ballers. I mean, was it covered at a staff meeting?"

"Bullock, are you saying that the most powerful criminal syndicate in Gotham decided to _invite _this new competition and the violence that may come with it simply out of boredom?"

"No, Bats. I'm askin' why do we have to be worried about your little 'pet project' that you assigned to collect drug money and divvy out weapons that could kill my officers!"

"The cocaine and heroin drug routes that had been powered by Thorne and Falcone's runners were completely dry before this new contingent arrived," Batman seethed while Bullock continued to bawdily mock the vigilante's defense. "And would you like to go back to the days when those officers were having to deal with Russian heavy arms and AK-47's instead of the small arms and incendiaries that are out there now?"

"All right, that's enough, gentlemen," Gordon said with a calm bit of warning. "Now we can argue about how much leniency we can assign to Calvin Besser and his associates at a later time. The current issue here is finding out who these new arrivals are, where they're coming from, and just how much resources they can put into potentially making this city a more dangerous place to live."

"It's Luthor," Batman replied almost immediately, the master detective turning away from his colleagues as he took sight of the Gotham sightline. "We've yet to find a paper trail to put the links together but my team's investigation has led me to conclude that he's financing the revival of the crime families that were extricated over the past several years. Though it is true that his impeachment and subsequent seizing of Lexcorp properties deprived him of some of his chief resources, the sheer force behind his subsidiary conglomerates throughout the world would be able to provide more than enough for this goal without even leaving so much as a dent in their coffers."

Gordon couldn't help but let loose a curse as he smeared the toe of his left shoe against the cement. "Luthor again," he said through cinched cheeks. "Well, I suppose that would make sense. He tried and failed to take over Gotham's real estate deeds when he was still considered a legitimate businessman and, now that he's not, he's going for the crime market instead."

Bullock made a display of pushing his tongue against the left side of his cheek. "Yeah, I guess that's as good a guess as any I've come up with," he conceded while placing another innocent shard of wood pulp into the fray against his merciless molars. "Sheesh. So we got another trust fund baby tryin' to stir up shit? Just goes to show that you can't ever trust some bastard who thinks they can just coast on through life on their own money."

Perhaps some thanks were due to the kindly words from before but Batman was still able to present his diligence by subduing his reply to merely firing his zip line so that the diamond-tipped grapple would pierce the stone rooftop of the nearby Hammond building. "My team will continue looking for a way to find the higher ups behind this insurgence and see if or how it links to Luthor. You know how to get in touch with me if the warring parties start to do something more than merely rattling the sabers."

The commissioner provided an unseen farewell as Batman swung into the Gotham night, his myopic eyes briefly following his shadowy ally before he turned around and made his way towards the still shining Batsignal.

"Rattlin' the sabers?" asked Bullock, his beefy fists against his hips. "Who the fuck talks like that any more? Still, must be nice bein' able to show up at work with something exciting to do," Bullock said before another quick chomp. "Not to mention the whole thing of dodging the paperwork."

Gordon let out a sigh as he shut off the signal, the chagrin within it rationed evenly for his gruff lieutenant and the recognition that a dossier was the least important thing that Batman was dodging.

* * *

_Themysicra – National Embassy - __5:29 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Lloyd Thomas, Oliver Queen, and Wally West disembarked from the old Justice League sonic plane in single file, the latter two of the three gentlemen each wearing the familiar garb that the world had come to identify them by. The Black Dog quickly took the lead and further separated himself from the slight pack, his black Brooks Brothers suit, white business shirt, and expertly wrapped silk tie looking astonishingly ridiculous alongside Green Arrow's emerald-green leggings, his jagged-stitched vest, and archer's hat and The Flash's red-and-yellow uniform. What brought them together though was the calm and professional conduct each of them continued to maintain despite the immortal allure that seeped through The Isle of The Amazons. They each silently observed the lush forestry perched on the far edges of the beachfront property where the embassy had been placed, the architectural dichotomy of the sun-kissed beaches, the aged but sturdy pines found just 500 yards away, and the gleaming modern majesty of the building in front of them seemingly providing an open invitation to all the wonders that this millennia-old empire had to offer for those brave enough to explore it. An opportunity to find everything while risking the opportunity of discovering nothing that you had anticipated

"Well, I'm feeling unworthy of being here already," Wally reported, his candor already acquiring a nervous edge as he looked from side to side. "Funny. That usually takes at least an hour."

"Ah, don't let it get to ya, Lady Scarlet," Ollie fired back, his overtly casual tone drawing a grumble from his younger compatriot. Readjusting his feathered cap, the self-assured marksman twisted up his face so that his blonde mustache seemed to twitch on its own. "Besides, how can anybody feel down in the mouth when you've got that tall drink of water comin' at you?"

The Flash looked ahead out of instinct and almost immediately wished that he hadn't. Still, had he either the courage to pay closer attention, Wally would have had the honor of being presented with the beguiling smile of the goddess of the hunt. She moved with all the grace imagined throughout the centuries by hundreds upon hundreds of painters and sculptors and more, her long skirt revealing hints of her muscular perfect legs with every step. Her red hair bounced and swayed with her movements, the smooth strands as lush and brilliant as the sunset blooming over the horizon and the stark, present connection tempted Oliver to let out a low whistle of appreciation. And, as she was wont to do in the ancient tales when presented with a potential challenge, the moving vision flashed a confident smile that bore the vigor and stubborn determination of countless victories.

"Lady Artemis," Green Arrow broke in, his long strides quickly carrying him past The Black Dog so that he could intercept the goddess with a swift embrace. "Well, you were the last person I was expecting but I'll be the first to admit that I'm glad I was wrong."

The Grecian turned Themysciran divine being offered back a sharp smirk. "Take care, Oliver Queen. There are precious few mortals that I would permit such conduct from and only so much acclaim you can draw from your last visit to our isle." Off Green Arrow's mild chagrin she quickly added, "Of course, I suppose that you did give some of my young students the opportunity to hone themselves with a unique pursuit."

Ollie backed up just as Artemis did, the gentleman giving up the point as he scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, if I'm going to be putting some of your disciples through their paces once again then I'd like a bit more time to prepare. Ah, and being able to keep my clothes would be an excellent bonus."

Though usually not known for her patience in the realm of conversation, Artemis only took a moment to briefly twist her attention towards the lone stranger before focusing in on The Flash. "And Mister West! Diana has informed me that your mate has been kind enough to bequeath you with two healthy children! Given the nobility within the work done both by you and your late uncle for the benefit of Themyscira, I am afraid that I cannot permit your family to stray from a visit to our island any longer."

Wally tried his best to not look alarmed and, because of this, he failed miserably in his pursuits to do so. "Um, well, thank you very much," he managed to stammer out, the former car mechanic still quite aware that the goddess before him was anticipating such an uncomfortable reaction. "Hey! Um, Lloyd! I think you should say something now!"

"No, I'd rather watch you suffer," The Black Dog replied, the half-demon leveling his kind but nervous compatriot with a smirk before finally letting The Flash off the hook. He extended his hand forward, his palm flat and his forearm open for Artemis to clasp just as Kara had made sure to teach him. "On behalf of Batman and our associates within The Justice League of America, I thank you for allowing us to conduct our investigation despite such meager notice."

Artemis briefly regarded the half-demon's extended hand before returning the gesture, her fine fingers gripping sternly around Lloyd's forearm. Keeping her predatory grin, the goddess made certain to manipulate the tips of her fingers so that they would tenderly graze the human's flesh. "On the contrary, I should say that the honor is mine. After all, the tales of Za'hafal-nesh the Condemner were often passed back and forth even in the hallowed halls of Olympus. Given such a. . . rigorous reputation, I would be quite interested in examining the wares of such a legend in spite of its currently unimpressive packaging."

As one might expect, The Black Dog was momentarily torn between biting his tongue and fighting the flush on his cheeks until Oliver's toothy grin prompted the half-demon to shoot a wicked glare in the direction of the rambunctious archer. "Well, madam," he replied before turning his eyes back to the eager huntress. "I thank you for your. . . well. . . interests but I'm afraid that I'm already spoken for. Quite, um, adamantly so at that."

"Oh, for Hera's sake, Artemis, I would think that you of all creatures would relent from pursuing the catch of one of your sisters."

Lloyd worked to gather the shocked spittle that was threatening to escape his lips as Ollie worked to hide his laughter. While all that was going on, the woman known to some as Diana Prince made her presence further felt to those around her. Save for the unbreakable bracelets of mystic silver clamped firmly around her wrists, the champion of the Amazons had completely abandoned the battle armor that would have made her instantly recognizable to nearly the entire world over in favor of a women's business suit specifically tailored to conceal the more unrefined charms that the emissary had to offer. Though the attempt to masquerade her goddess-like grace had been all but destroyed by her lissome descent from the skies, Lloyd couldn't help but think that the woman still looked to try and hold on to the slivers of life that he had been desperately clutching to for years now. Had he been paying greater attention to what had been briefly discussed by Kara and directed to by Bruce, perhaps The Black Dog would have drawn some inspiration from the creature striding forward to greet him. A woman who had frequently yearned for some semblance of normalcy amidst a lifetime of daring deeds and clashes among the grandest of stages while finding the strength to draw comfort in the quest to find a fine balance between the ordinary and the exceptional.

"I welcome you to Themyscira, Lloyd Thomas," Diana Prince offered while extending her arm for Lloyd to accept. "Given how highly that both Donna and Kara have spoken of you, I suppose I can forgive you for escaping my notice for so long."

As Lloyd returned the gesture with an earnest nod, Ollie tilted his head closer towards Wally's ear. "Geez. First Artemis and now the Wonder Lady herself," Green Arrow mumbled at about an octave below a stage whisper. "Does the young master just have superchica catnip in his pocket or sumthin?"

The greetings grinded to a sudden halt as Wonder Woman froze Green Arrow with an unmoving but arrogant glare. "Well, I suppose that this young half-blood does have his own kind of appeal," Diana attested while striding towards a still Oliver as Wally hastily backpedaled away. "Or perhaps it's just the matter of finally coming across a 'cape', as some of you are prone of calling them, that doesn't focus their eyes directly against a woman's bosom."

Now even Ollie found himself flushing. In fact, the distraction proved to be more than enough to allow Diana to lean in and give her old comrade a quick peck on the cheek.

"Aw, shucks, Princess," Green Arrow replied, the nervous-looking scratching of the back of his neck now genuine. "It was only just a shade of a second this time."

It was a credit to her patience that Wonder Woman settled with a mere clucking of the tongue. "Well, as thrilling as all this small talk can be, I was informed that time may be of the essence."

"Ah, indeed it is, Miss Prince," Lloyd intervened, the Brit quickly finding his composure as Diana took the lead in traveling down the white stone walkway that connected the nearby landing pad from the emissary proper. "Judging from the results of some recent investigations, we have reason to believe that Lex Luthor may be seeking to gather additional weaponry and manpower through his secondhand contacts on your island. Of course, we are by no means accusing you or the Themysciran government of providing this assistance. . ."

"There is no need for apologizes, Mister Thomas," Diana broke in without missing a stride. "With all due respect for maintaining secrecy, we have suffered from several thefts of weapons caches from the storehouses along our northernmost borders. Interestingly enough, the guilty parties put limited effort towards maintaining their secrecy after the fact while those identified for committing the offenses have additionally vanished from our shores."

"So it's an inside job then," Wally naturally assumed. "Oh. And it's nice to see you too, Double W."

Diana had no qualms with responding to the playful chiding with a quick smile. "Regrettably so, I'm afraid. No aircraft or boats were seen leaving the grounds of the vandalized properties nor were any rogue crafts identified by our radar systems along the ocean. Furthermore, upon our first series of inspections on the matters our mystics were able to pick up ambient but distinct traces of supernatural energy within each of the complexes." Both her strides and her words came to a stop as the group emerged at the double doors of the embassy. They were ten feet high whose immaculate construction did nothing to hide their stern strength and fortitude.

"Artemis will lead you to the central meeting area where we will collect our information in order to make this joint operation as efficient as possible," Wonder Woman announced as the aforementioned Amazon swung the doors open wide with the aid of one of her young apprentices. "However, if it is permissible, I should wish for Mister Thomas and myself to attend to another matter while the rest of you go about your duties."

The words spawned a number of different reactions ranging from Artemis's knowing smirk to Wally's confused tilt of his head to Ollie's bemused raise of his eyebrows. Lloyd, on the other hand, continued to do his best to remain neutral even as the doors swung shut with his comrades on the other side.

"Is there something going on that I should be made aware of?"

Diana replied with a polite smile. "Forgive me for the confusion. However, in the few minutes Bruce thought me worthy to speak to him, he did manage to mention another reason why you would wish to visit here."

Lloyd briefly shut his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips with the thought that he had somehow managed to underestimate his weary but still wily commander. Without another word, the half-demon reached for the scabbard along his left leg and pulled the _Mugalshir_ from its sheath, the gleaming silver saber briefly pulsating in the setting sun as he handed it to Diana. In return, Themyscira's greatest warrior briefly examined the eldritch blade with an appreciative and knowledgeable eye. He managed to take a step backwards as Wonder Woman deftly twirled the blade until it seemed to be little more than a cloud of silver looming around her right hand. As Lloyd watched the woman bring her display to a close with an equally sudden stop, a rather odd portion of him suddenly realized why so many people seemed to be enamored with this relative stranger.

"Yes, indeed," Diana softly revealed, her words snapping Lloyd out of his reveries with enough time to swoop up the _Mugalshir _after she had tossed it back at him. "I know just who we should be looking for."

* * *

_Metropolis - Kord Tower – Central Communications Hub – 5:41 A.M. Central Standard Time_

"So you think it's just all well and good to, what, just whore me out to anybody that suits your fancy? Damn it, O! I thought we were over doing this kind of garbage!"

As the lone occupant of the massive tower recently constructed smack dab in the center of Metropolis's business district, Barbara Gordon endured the anger of her longtime colleague while simultaneously observing Helena's anger pouring through her face thanks to the camera lens placed within the vigilante's smoke alarm. Given her well-earned reputation as the planet's most infamous retainer and distributor of knowledge, it was safe to say that Barbara Gordon was bright enough to recognize that The Huntress would not approve of her retaining a calm, almost serene demeanor while she continued about her tirade. Of course, it was commonly up to the woman known as Oracle to maintain a level head even in the worst of crises and Barbara remained within her comfort zone as she took a moment to loop a stray strand of red hair behind her right ear. Bending forward in her chair to fetch the steaming cup of coffee that Creote had been kind enough to brew before his departure, she let the last rivulets of steam slide up her face before tilting away to avoid fogging up her glasses.

"We _are _over this garbage, H," Oracle coolly replied to her more temperamental colleague after taking a much needed drink. "The Black Dog asked for my permission to allow Miss Zor-el to speak with you. I gave the okay because I thought that this was an opportunity that would help somebody I happen to care for. That somebody, lest we forget, is you."

"Oh, yeah, this is a whole, heaping bucketful of help!" Helena snapped back, the flawless reception of the comm. link allowing the vigilante to deliver every hint of her frustration. "You just go ahead and decide to send Batman's latest pet project over in my direction and expect me to fall in line! Look, I know we stepped on each other's toes in the past but this is too much! You can't just send somebody tromping into my life just because you need to give an employee review. . ."

"All right, that's about enough." Oracle said sharply, the tone and framing of her words bringing Huntress into a seething but necessary silence. "This wasn't an 'employee review' but if you're looking for one then I'll just go and say that you've been going above and beyond the call of duty for a long time now. Canary, Zinda, and I would have had to gone through a lot more pain and suffering if you weren't there to watch our backs so the least that we can do is present you with an opportunity to give you more of what you want out of life."

Barbara knew that she wouldn't have picked up the slight but miserable sigh if her camera hadn't been around to see it. Likewise, she offered back a sympathetic smile that her friend would never receive before continuing on.

"All I asked Kara and Lloyd to do was to put the offer on the table. Still, I'd be blind if I hadn't noticed just how much of an impact Batman has had on both our lives. He may not have been the best person for the job and sometimes he let us down or we let him down or a little bit of both but the fact remains that, at least as far as what I've heard, he needs us right now. He needs _you_ just as much as you've needed to take care of this itch you've been scratching at ever since I've known you."

"Oh, Jesus, this is rich." Huntress scoffed back. "I have _Oracle _giving me advice on how to resolve past differences."

It was only a slight effort for Barbara to push aside the apparent attempt at baiting even as she was distracted by an equally expected surprise provided by one of her in-house surveillance eyes. "You're still the one with the final say on this, Huntress. However, as much as I'd like to keep sizzling the deal, I'm afraid I have another appointment."

Oracle cut the call and the angry words of her colleague before her ears picked up the sound of heavy cloth swooping downward. Turning slowly to meet it, the sparkle in her jade-green eyes remained untarnished despite the sight of Gotham's dark knight looming only a handful of feet away.

"Speaking of past differences. . ."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

I'd like to provide some eclectic and acerbic commentary centered around the current events of the comic world but, to no one's surprise, I've barely been paying one whit of attention towards my so-called source material as the summer weeks roll on. I'm afraid that I'm already still quite full from the heavy weight of _EPIC COMIC BOOK CROSSOVERS_ and I find it safe to say that both _Fear Itself _and _Flashpoint_ have offered nothing to convince me to risk creative indigestion. I don't really give a crap that Bucky is dead or that Dick Grayson is going to dress himself up to look like Deathwing or that DC looks to be on the verge of rebooting itself once again on the behest of continuing to be the alternative to Marvel by being exactly like Marvel.

On the other hand, I did get a hell of a laugh of watching Barry Allen electrocute himself in an attempt to get his powers back. I mean, I don't think that the type of humor I would expect from _Harvey Birdman _or _The Tick_ to be worthy of a super-serious crossover comic series intended to vastly alter the status quo but, hey, I'm not losing any money over it.

Speaking of which, here's something that you usually get for free. . . and continue to do so!

* * *

_Issue #128 Preview_

It's been over five years in the making but the face-to-face confrontation between Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon is ready to pitch into high gear. So what are Oracle's intentions behind attempting to help recruit Huntress into The Misfits? What does Diana know of the _Mugalshir's _legacy and who does she know that can help reveal more? Will Oliver Queen honestly be able to get through his entire trip to Themyscira without being stripped naked, bound, and gagged (willingly or unwillingly). Find out the answer to three out of four of these questions in the next installment of _The Misfits: _You're A Mean One, Mister Wayne. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	128. You're A Mean One, Mister Wayne

Issue #128

You're A Mean One, Mister Wayne

_Metropolis – Kord Tower – Central Communications Hub – 5:47 A.M. Central Standard Time_

"I would have had Creote make some coffee but I know you don't like feeling jittery this far into your patrols. Well, that and the whole breaking and entry matter."

It wasn't surprising that Batman met Oracle's whimsy with an unyielding glare that was nearly filled to the brim with annoyance and accusation. On the other hand, those who had come to know Barbara Gordon over the course of her five and thirty years might also have realized that the woman known as Oracle was perhaps the foremost expert in the field of weathering the glare of Gotham's dark knight and returning the unkindness in kind.

"Of course, Dinah's been getting on my case about the psychology behind my suddenly having a butler about but _I _wouldn't go so far as to call Creote a caretaker. More like a conscientious objector who just signed on in order to look after those he considers friends. Still, I can't deny that there's something fishy in my selection of a Spetnaz agent for that role. And he can be rather posh. . ."

"You've been collaborating with members of my team in order to bring one of your soldiers into my ranks without my direct approval."

"And, yes, I suppose that he does have a deceptive air about him," Oracle hypothesized onward, her slow contemplations going on unabated. "The obvious giveaways being the combination of his muscular frame and violent past that contrasts so sharply with his penchant for cooking, cleaning, and his otherwise nurturing nature. On the other hand, judging from the middle pages of the Gotham gossip rags back when I was a teenager, the homosexual suspicions in that situation always seemed to settle around the master rather than the servant."

"Barbara," Batman grumbled through nearly gritted teeth. "I appreciate your concern and I respect what Huntress has delivered to your operations but my situation is a great many ways different than your own. Though I will consider the recommendations of my colleagues, the decisions will ultimately be made by. . ."

"Ugh, and with a child, no less," Barbara recalled with a disgusted shake of her head. "At least Savant and Creote are both of consenting ages. I mean, could you imagine what could happen to this operation if somebody was arrested for statutory. . ."

"DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?" Batman roared, his long but rapid steps quickly bringing him to tower over his seated antagonist.

"No. Not in the slightest," Oracle snapped back, the resolve rooted within her jade eyes now just as unflinching as those of her adolescent idol. "I _didn't _think it was funny when I found out that Jordan and Queen and the others chose to toy around in your head and go years without disclosing the information to anyone else and then claiming it was for our own protection. I _don't _think it's funny that you chose to respond by setting up your own black ops program that deliberately kept you away from so many of the people that wanted to be there to support you in your time of need. I _don't _think it was right that you dropped Tim onto another person's doorstep only weeks after his father died or that you kept Kal-El's cousin in hiding or that you've apparently set up some kind of operation with Calvin Besser that allows you to supervise the traffic of crime in Gotham. The difference between you and me though is that I'm willing to sit here and try to understand the why rather than just accept it and then run away."

"You. . . left. . . first!" Batman exclaimed, his deep, angered cadence grinding out each and every word. "And I'm guessing that you never had a complaint so long as I helped provide the money to build this tower, to keep you updated in the latest technology, and even to provide stipends for those two doting fugitives that nearly put your entire field team in traction not one year before."

Oracle finally flinched at that, her right hand tensed and ready to lash out at Batman's chin if it weren't for the tales provided by her instincts. She had come to make a good living from accepting the gifts provided not only by her father but by this infuriating brooder glaring over her and she took pride in being able to employ those talents to decipher situations that would confound some of her wiliest of peers. "You know what? I'm not going to play this game with you," she finally declared. "You're obviously here for either clarification or some kind of second-hand abuse but if you're going to get any more of that then you're going to have to give me a hug."

Immersed as he had been in his temperamental bluster, Bruce suddenly found himself momentarily thrown.

"What?"

Barbara took a moment to wheel backwards until her chair struck the keyboard at her back, the extra room giving her a better vantage point in regards to looking over the confused crime fighter. "You heard me. Another thing that Dinah keeps badgering me about is that I need to remember how to express myself around people so I figure that I might as well try it out with you. Now come on. I'm told this is healing."

Batman would have liked to confess that he had no idea about what was going on but the fact of the matter was that he did. Very much so. He gazed upon the capricious but ferociously determined diligence on the face of the former Batgirl and found himself suddenly reminded of the young woman who had inspired him to take a look at his self-ordained task from a somewhat different perspective than he ever had before. It was a time before Superman became Clark and those hours in Keystone City spent analyzing the future while deluged in memories of the past. Before his desire to be a guardian to the world rather than just around his city, it had been Barbara Gordon who had taught him that there was contentment to be found in what he had thought to be a dark but necessary enterprise. While Dick may have viewed his violent life as a chance to shine on the center stage, Barbara had always seemed to find delight in the simple act of doing good. She _loved _being able to make a difference more than he ever could.

Then The Joker had chosen to conduct a more specific version of his perverse raison d'être using Jim Gordon as his patient and his daughter's agony as the drug. Barbara had once confided in him that the sick clown had introduced her to that first taste of fear and hatred but Bruce was too good of a detective to ignore the veils behind the ostentatious statement. He knew it was her excuse to shift her life, her philosophy, into the dramatic new direction that would eventually bring about the birth of Oracle, information gatherer extraordinaire. The transformation had been gradual but dynamic, significant enough to alter the lives of many of those that Bruce cared for and perhaps he had convinced himself that the entire alteration had all been for the best.

The ease with which he moved to embrace his old friend and student proved that a part of him would always feel differently. He shut his eyes as Barbara drew him in closer until she could rest her chin on his armored shoulder.

"There," Oracle whispered before she briefly nuzzled her nose against the pitch-black plating, her soft but hitched tone spurring the tears that threatened to escape her clenched eyes. "Was that so awful?"

"Not at all," Batman professed, his own tone sullied from the reassured sigh that had escaped him. "In fact, I'd dare say that my heart's grown about three sizes."

The duo held on long after the both of them had stopped chuckling.

* * *

_Themyscira – 6:25 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

The smell of ash and molten metal had invaded Lloyd's nostrils well before he moved to swing open the cast-iron doors. He kept his arms stretched forward even as he let go of the golden push bars, his unique senses hastily becoming fixated upon the trickles of some ancient magic that had begun to flutter about his fingertips. Feeling his own curiosities augmented by the thoughts of his pure-blooded provider of demonic power, he took cautious steps forward while admiring the workshop lit only by the burning coals along the nearby kiln and a handful of stray whale oil lanterns. It felt as if he had walked into a completely different world, a polar opposite of the clean and conveniently built housing complexes and training grounds that he had already come to identify with the diligent warrior women he had been prepared to interact with. Perhaps the design had been slightly inspired by the ironic thoughts of its architect, the lone male figure on the island whose presence was not only expected but valued but Lloyd had already begun to guess that the artist that roamed this antiquated workshop simply preferred to keep things simple.

Taking clues about the world around him as he moved, his boyish temptations finally coerced The Black Dog into examining a rack of broad swords hung upon the western wall. His undersized fingers were a whit from trembling and his eyes were wide as he brought himself to grasp the lowest-lying blade. Given his lithe frame and slender arms, he had never been particularly comfortable with such heavy-handed weaponry but the supernatural tapestry built within the golden claymore had enchanted the blade to where it seemed as light as a feather. Taking the hilt in both hands, Lloyd swung his way through a half-remembered Bushido _kata _that Nigel had taught him years ago after he had insisted on attempting to learn the fighting mannerisms of the samurai. Of course, the British half-demon hadn't had any intention of changing his fighting style even back then. It was just a matter of wanting to learn more about what Mao and his portly charge had wanted him to do, another chance at metaphorical extra credit designed to satiate his thirst for approval and the desire while coming to have a better appreciation of the art that he had come to know.

"Just don't pretend you're startled, boy. You and I both knew that we weren't alone here."

Following the just command, The Black Dog bent his elbows and twisted his shoulders so that the flat of the Scottish war blade rested against his left shoulder before he turned to face his host. As much relevant information he had gathered in the preceding days, it was still bizarre to believe that the hobbled hulk stepping between the kiln and the wide anvil at the center of the room was something that the Amazons would come to respect and idolize. His grizzled, brawny features aside, the gnarled skin along his shoulders and the left side of misshapen face seemed to curdle in the low light of the surrounding frame to the point where even the telepath was nearly prompted to be taken aback. When he spoke again, the sounds that emerged sounded as if that even they had been tempered by an unyielding flame.

"So I've finally managed to cross paths with the scion of Za'hafal-nesh," Hephaestus noted, the Greek god of the forge leaning his left arm against a nearby work table. "I was thinking you'd be taller."

Lloyd had nothing to say to that. Of course, that didn't seem to deter the deity in the least as he continued on. "This isn't much of a surprise given that Diana told me to expect company but I wasn't expecting for two of my old creations to be making their way back as well."

Taking a moment to offer a respectful nod, Lloyd then quickly reached for the scabbard strapped to the left side of his hip and released the _Mugalshir_ from its confines. Twisting the gleaming silver saber until the tip of the curved blade caught his eyes, he let the blade fly with an underhand toss that allowed the immortal craftsman to easily fetch the weapon from the air by the hilt. The half-demon remained still throughout the perusal that followed, the man curious about the sudden impulse and what was to come from it as Hephaestus briefly examined the enchanted weapon he had forged nearly three millennia before. Feeling the fractions of a second tick by, the telepath nearly startled as the god let out a quick snort before tossing the _Mugalshir _back at him.

"So nice to see that at least _some _mortals still has the decency to look after my work," the malformed deity said with a huff. "Still, I'm starting to believe that you're not here to pass on a simple compliment. Humanity has never been long on the patience needed for genuine appreciation."

"Then I'll save the trouble of paying homage to your instincts," Lloyd replied, the half-demon nearly surprising himself with the quip and the nearly playful tone he assigned to it. Placing the _Mugalshir_back into its assigned position at his belt, he then reached for another casing strapped against his back. This one was a bit longer than the one that had been meddled with before, the extra room a necessity for the katana's leaner, longer blade. Fingering the snakeskin hilt, The Black Dog wordlessly moved forward in order to properly hand over what he wished to be appraised.

"Another relic of the past," Hephaestus nearly mumbled as he stretched forward his girthy right arm to accept the offering. "Tell me, demon child, how did you come to possess not one but _two _of my old possessions?"

Lloyd took a step backward and scratched at an itch on the left side of his nose. "I came to acquire the _Mugalshir_ from Mao Tenryu, a man who held a great deal of authority in the realm of magical artifacts before his untimely death. That demise came at the hands of the former owner of the blade you now hold in your hands," he explained patiently as Hephaestus examined the katana. "I must admit that I know little of the saber's whereabouts before it felt into my hands but I have been able to find out more about the _Kikuichi-monji_. . ."

Hephaestus moved with such sudden sharpness that Lloyd was coerced into silence. As the flame in the eastern kiln continued to falter, the god briefly returned his attentions to the katana. "You humans put far too much effort into naming things," he then mumbled as he turned away from his guest, the katana still in his grasp.

"Well, you'll find that I had no sway in designating what I've come to show you today," Lloyd replied, his far quicker steps bringing him quickly to Hephaestus's side. "As it stands, people that owned the katana before it fell into Mao's hands were people who believed in maintaining order throughout the realms of magic and metal," he continued on, his description drawing a hearty grunt from the maker of weapons. "Briefly after what we humans refer to as World War I, the blade made its way to the isle of Japan to people who felt as if the blade had been put to the use of foul deeds due to the reputations of those who wielded it before them. Thus they attempted to 'redeem the blade', as it were, by employing it in the name of justice and protecting the weak. Military officers, mystics, even police officers. . ."

"And yet the blade is still tainted," Hephaestus observed, his interruption punctuated when he dully tossed the _Kikuichi-monji_ onto one of his work benches. "Are you here to tell me things I can easily find myself or do you have a more important matter you're choosing to ignore?"

Lloyd twisted his lips into a frown, the disappointment fairly well divided between himself and his uncouth inquisitor. "You crafted this weapon in a manner that would allow those with supernatural power to store a portion of their force within the blade itself. What I'm here to deal with is to ask if a soul is able to dwell within it and, if so, does one inhabit it now."

Locking in the half-demon's nervousness with a dubious stare, the god of the forge soon broke away from his efforts and returned his sights to the sword. "Do you truly want to know the answer to that, boy?" he asked softly while tracing his fingertips against the snakeskin hilt. "Or, if I can be clearer, just who is asking the question here: the boy or the demon that inhabits him?"

It seemed a necessity for Lloyd to pause and let out a breath. "I'd say it's about equal now. The answer we get may sway things in one direction or the other though."

Hephaestus pursed his lips at the honest rejoinder, the kiln at his back finally flickering out until he roared it back to life with a snap of his knobby fingers. "Well, here's one thing I know. This blade remains as sturdy as ever, its edges far sharper than those of its owner." The god's eyes took on a twinge of black as he leveled his gaze upon his visitor. "Your foundation remains sturdy but the borders are already beginning to crack."

Lloyd managed to catch his eyes just before they shut completely.

"That's not what I'm here for."

Having little interest in the topic itself, Hephaestus let the point of contention go with a shrug of his malformed shoulders. "Do not fault Diana for her error in judgment but she has steered you in the wrong direction. As far as this isle is concerned, I am not the one to speak to as it comes to matters of the spirit. However, I believe that your aged acquaintance may have come up with another idea well before you chose to step into my domain."

The Black Dog remained silent as Hephaestus swooped his brawny left arm downward to fetch the katana from where it lay on the workbench. Offering a nod of gratitude as the god slowly returned Vincent's old blade to him, Lloyd easily managed to silently formulate the magical command he needed to steer him back toward the embassy where he was expected. Receiving little more than a curious stare in response, the half-demon wasted no time in blinking out of the workshop, the slight popping sound marking his withdrawal easily wiped away by the roar of the surrounding flames.

* * *

_Metropolis – Kord Tower – 7:41 A.M. Central Standard Time_

It was quite understandable that Batman had needed a great deal of time to tell the story of his life over the past three years since Oracle had left Gotham for greener pastures. To her credit, Barbara had been a more than appropriate audience, the wise woman saving her questions for what she thought to be the best possible moments and providing sadness, smiles, and sympathy in response to any inklings of emotion that her old mentor betrayed. She let out a chuckle when she discovered Stephanie's spoken reason behind why she returned to Gotham, she gasped upon hearing of Jason Todd's grisly demise and stifled a tear when she recognized how the former Robin had chosen to truly depart from the world he had bumbled through for so long. She did her best to maintain her patience as Bruce spoke of alliances with Calvin Besser, Noah Kuttler, and Slade Wilson even as her eidetic memory helped collect all sorts of information that compelled her to defy the logic presented to her. Then, when Batman finally chose to sit back, his story done, the first woman to don the mantle of Batgirl leaned back in her chair and realized that she had been leaning forward the entire time. The surviving nerve endings that remained around her spinal cord dictated their protests as she settled back into her seat as she fluttered her right hand up to her forehead with a thirst for some kind of constant contact.

"That's. . . quite a story," she finally declared, the computer wonk still processing too much information to go with anything more than a sad understatement. "I'm. . . sorry. I just. . . wow, I can not formulate words right now."

"That's all right," Batman quickly replied with a deceptive degree of gentleness. "I. . . think I gave you a lot more information than what I thought I was going to give you."

"Makes me wish that I had something as equally entertaining," Barbara noted, the red-headed, former vigilante cooling the tensions with a gentle smile. "You're making me think that all I've been doing is sitting and spinning."

The droning of the surrounding computer equipment was suddenly overwhelmed by a quick, Bruce Wayne-model bark of laughter. It was something usually designed for falsehood and the sudden, truthful appearance of it quickly inspired genuine mirth from both hard-hearted vigilantes.

"Well, the evidence would seem to reveal that you're selling yourself short, Barbara," Bruce eventually broke in, the detective surprising no one by being the first to recover. "You've had The Justice League under your watch for nearly five years now and the organization has never been more stable and I've heard nothing but good news about The Birds of Prey."

"Oh, don't you change the subject on me, mister!" Barbara snapped back even as she tried to fight back the flush of her cheeks. "And speaking of the JLA, I'm still catching Nightwing sending back the occasional encoded file cropping to your satellite array. If he's going to continue replacing J'onn as your eyes and ears inside the League then you need to tell him to be a little bit more careful."

Batman stretched his forehead upward so even the stern leather covering of his mask scrunched up a bit. It was a familiar ploy that he had constructed for his students when he wanted to encourage Dick and Barbara to peer further into the possibilities and the challenging smirk that Oracle employed as a rejoinder was just as habitual.

"Oh?"

Barbara took the obvious bait with glee. "You've played a good game, Bruce. I can only guess at your first step but I'd wager that you decided to use Stephanie's natural penchant for drawing people into your cause to bring both Mister Thomas and Miss Zor-el into the fold. With the magical cloaking abilities of The Black Dog, you could safely keep Kara away from Superman's eyes while conditioning her to break away from not only him but also the code of the Amazons and get her more into your newfound philosophy. Then, since you didn't have any more use for her in Gotham, you sent Cassandra overseas and had her fall into the employ of Scandal Savage in order to keep a sound eye on what could have been a risky venture. Then, when you were sure of The Secret Six's good faith, you suggested that Miss Savage look into acquiring Victor Fries so you could turn yet another potential enemy into an ally without arousing too much suspicion."

Batman remained silent throughout the course of the theoretical onslaught. It would have been impossible for Oracle to avoid the weight of the voluntary decision but the question of whether or not the stillness was due to an honest interest in her efforts was something left to be answered at another time.

"And then there's Cecilia Queen," Barbara continued on, her own obvious efforts drawing the slightest of a flinch from her longtime inspiration. "Now I don't know how much your choice of taking a teenager away from her chosen life of nonviolence had to do with pissing off her unsuspecting father but the fact remains that you used her to keep Tim away. You used their friendship to steer away one of the world's premier investigators from learning more about your activities. Furthermore, you brought in Noah Kuttler, the same man who was indirectly responsible for the murder of Tim's own father thanks to an attempt to fulfill a mission that was just an inkling more self-serving than your own."

Dick had told her, repeatedly and with great amounts of conviction, that Bruce had changed a great deal since the last, friction-filled months before Bruce's aimless strategizing and Stephanie's noble foolishness had torn them all apart. Barbara knew that she was testing the waters to a ridiculous extreme but the young woman that idolized the fuming vigilante standing in front of her continued to push forward even when the adult she had become was screaming to fall back. The shrouded knight finally stepped closer and she couldn't help but cringe for a moment before settling herself down. The tantalizing allure of so many unanswered questions was too much for someone like her to avoid.

"As if you're one to talk," Batman said with a sneer, the vitriol in the simple statement proving Dick right in the worst possible way. "I did what I thought was best to preserve the safety of those who asked me to watch over them. I didn't want Tim to go through what I would have expected from him after all the suffering he had been forced to endure. As for Kara Zor-el, Kent may have been busy trying to use her to make connections with a home that was no longer there and Diana was just jubilant about molding a perfect warrior but it was _me _who saw what she truly was."

The Dark Knight of Gotham City then turned and presented Oracle with his back, his long cape twisting with the motion. "As for Cassandra, forgive me if I could get more out of your old student than you ever could. _My apologies _for realizing that the girl was looking for a purpose while you were busy living vicariously through the women you push around like chess pieces."

Barbara knew that the brutal swipe was only fair. She had tested the strength of his emotional limitations so it was only proper that he had been allowed to challenge her own. Those restraints in place, she shut her eyes tight for a fraction of a second, the anger rumbling in her throat and rattling her teeth before she finally managed to battle it down. Shuddering as the wave of hatred seemed to pass through the rest of her, she wheeled forward to close the gap.

"At least they've been around long enough to know the score," Barbara said coldly, the worst part of her delighting in how she could push home the critical point. "My girls have decades of experience between them and they know that somebody needs to be there to give the orders and make the hard decisions. Tim was just a young man who had lost his father and he reached out to you and you pushed him away because it was the tactical thing to do. Cassandra could have started to lead a happy life but you had her join a group of killers because it was smart. You're back to using children as soldiers while hiding behind the possibility that their futures were already set in stone!"

"Well, so nice to see that you're looking out for everyone else's interests, Barbara!" Batman roared back, the pain streaming from his countenance in waves. "And what little you received in return as well! Well, other than the funding I provided that's mixed in so nicely with the extra stipend you received from the U.N. through your association with The Justice League. All that altruism and all you have in return was the chance to get away from Gotham, leave your father on his own, leave my son in the lurch, and stay locked up in this tower that you dedicated to a friend whose death you blame me for!"

"I DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THIS!"

Oracle's admission coincided with an unexpected lurch of forward motion borne from her instinctual attempt to get close enough to ram her fist into the face of the object of her frustrations. She might have been reminded of her error in judgment by the nerve endings at the base of their spine if they had not been severed by The Joker's bullet so many years ago. The sensory blind spot that remained was all that was required to send Barbara stumbling off of her wheelchair, her right ankle bending harshly as the bones of her foot struggled against the metal bars between the front wheels of her chair. Batman employed all the speed he could muster but there was nothing he could do to stop the smack of his friend's body against the unyielding metal floor. Sliding to his knees in an instant, the detective thrust out his left forearm to intercept the upper half of the chair from crashing into Barbara's back. Moving as fluidly as he could, he extricated Barbara's tangled lower limbs from the metal casings and was on the verge of standing back up again to place the chair upright until he found himself wrapped tightly within Oracle's arms.

"I didn't want this," Barbara said once again, whispering this time as Bruce returned the blind but tender gesture. "I wanted to think that you were my friend instead of my teacher."

"I am your friend," Bruce replied. Just Bruce. No Batman or Oracle now. "Maybe I should have reminded you of that a lot sooner."

Barbara snorted at this, the disdainful gesture targeted just as much at herself as the man that held her. "Well, it's not like I made a great deal of effort either," she noted with a traitorous sniff as she managed to pull herself away by a handful of inches. "Bruce, why couldn't you have trusted me with what you wanted to do? I grew up in a police department and I put my life on the line for years on the streets, for Christ's sakes! If my father accepted what you were trying to do then do you really think that I would have thought any differently? Do you really think that you're the only one among us who sees that something else has to be done?"

Bruce knew that there was no answer that he could have provided that would have made the matter any better. Instead, he patted Barbara on the edge of her back before rising to his feet. Striding smoothly, he plucked up the wheelchair from where it had skittered against the floor. Taking a moment to check for any damages, he brought the seat close enough to where Barbara could clamber into it on her own.

"I still have my reasons but I'm still sorry for this part of the results," Bruce admitted, the weight of his disclosure blessedly lightened as Oracle continued to settle herself down both physically and mentally.

"It's all right," Barbara replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm sorry too."

"That's good," Bruce said, the almost smarmy bluntness earning him a good-natured glare. "Still, that doesn't quite get you off the hook as it comes to speaking to Miss Zor-el about a soldier swap behind my back."

The latest challenge presented, Oracle accepted it gamely while adjusting her glasses so that they once again rested on the edge of her nose. "Well, I'll have you know that the first person on your squad to contact me about this wasn't Kara."

All it took was a heartbeat and a dramatically weary sigh. "Thomas."

Oracle's smirk all but confirmed it. "I've read what there is to see about his past history. . . and got a peek at his behavior on a number of his dates with Kara and I have to say I'm impressed. Still a bit rough about the edges but this one doesn't seem to have as many of those contentious qualities that you tried to hammer out of Dick. You might just get that brave little soldier walking in your footsteps just yet."

Batman's rueful stare was quick to do battle with Oracle's knowing grin but, alas, it could only mete out a stalemate.

"Perhaps I should just stick to the task at hand," noted The Dark Knight of Gotham City, the master detective almost surprised that Oracle hadn't responded with a triumphant whoop. "I don't have any doubts about Helena's abilities and, judging from what I've gathered, she has managed to use your guidance to ease out her temperament while still retaining her creative instincts on the battlefield. What concerns me is how this kind of work could so easily dredge up a great many of her past demons."

Oracle considered this with a raised eyebrow. "I'm guessing we're not just talking about her being the daughter of an extinct mob family," she knowingly replied. "Well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not too comfortable with giving Helena an opportunity to build up on her body count. Still, from what Dick, Lloyd and my father have been saying about your recent actions, you may need her to watch your back just as much as she needs your approval."

Batman's distempered growl held a great deal more annoyance than hatred. "How pleasing it is to have so many people looking after my best needs."

"Yes, it is quite a curse," Oracle replied, her green eyes holding Batman in place. "And, judging from how quick you were to let Ollie into the fold, apparently I'm not the only one in this room that's interested in watching over you."

* * *

_Day 2 of Case Investigation _

_Gotham – 1_0_:52 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Judging from the body-hugging, sleeveless black gown that she had bought for this occasion at no small expense, it was clear that Helena Bertenelli had armed herself for a different kind of war. She had been bobbing her head in time to the rhythm tapped out by her three-inch heels as she steadily made her way down the boardwalk of Madison Avenue but now the looming presence of her eventual destination had become enough to give her pause. Oracle had been warning her of committing to this potentially reckless action for weeks now but the discoveries of the day before had given Huntress enough fuel to motor through her misgivings. Letting out the breath she had been holding in until the tight confines of her gown began to pinch at her slender abdomen, Helena finally pushed herself forward and walked across the street with a handful of others that were more than willing to examine one of the most infamous of Gotham's nightspots.

It took little effort to make her way inside, the slim amount of patience she needed to weave her way through the traffic about the front door mixing nicely with the expediency in which the bouncer at the rope had chosen to let her inside. Giving no heed to the compound of envy, annoyance, and lust looming in the midst of her preferential treatment, Huntress merely congratulated herself for the results of hundreds of hours of training and exercise as she continued on further into the club. There wasn't any sign yet of some of the familiars from either The Grove Street Ballers or the newcomers that had recently come in to challenge Besser's gang for their turf but the evening was still young. The mere fact that such vaunted criminals were not only welcome but also treasured in this social haven almost guaranteed that she'd soon run into something.

Drawing closer to the music coursing from the central room ahead of her, Helena played back the conversation that she had with Oracle only hours before. The tensions had certainly cooled from the unexpected events of the night before but the minutes had been somewhat terse and her announcement that she was going undercover hardly helped ease the troubled waves within Oracle's frequently critical demeanor. Ultimately, the combination of Barbara's recent shadowy actions and her own determination would prompt Helena into pretending that her communicator was undergoing some kind of bizarre interference until the perceptive computer wonk finally bent to her desires to engage in this operation on her lonesome. Of course, that didn't stop Huntress from keeping the GPS-equipped communicator in her handbag. Given that and the club's surveillance cameras festooned all around her, that would give her nosy comrade with plenty of options to do something if this all went pear-shaped.

_Consequences_, Helena remembered as she made her way through the north end of the long, swanky hallway and into the enormous social crux of the club. The entire place, vast as it was, appeared as if it had been caught between two entirely different points in time. The center portion of the social establishment was populated by dozens of modest circular tables covered by richly red, velvet tablecloth and surrounded by black, straight-back chairs fashioned meticulously from a mixture of oak and Brazilian mahogany. Dominating the eastern wall was a daunting, semicircular stage, its 25-by-30 foot scaffold and equally dynamic orchestra pit making Helena feel as if she had stepped into an old-time Hollywood awards ceremony. That possibility met a sharp but somehow fitting contrast as she looked to her left and observed an ice bar that looked as if it could have been taken straight away from one of the trendiest ice bars in Northern Europe. White crystal cabinets and shelves easily held a variety of expensive alcohols and spirits as the surprisingly soft whir of overhead fans kept the icy walls from emitting nothing more than a smooth sheen of sweat and water vapor.

Already loathing the fact that she had tempted herself into spending time here, Helena sauntered over the bar. If anything else, the ludicrously expensive beverages offered by the immaculately dressed bartenders would make whatever was to come a lot easier to put down. Taking an empty seat along the western corner of the oak table, the deceptively elegant vigilante had just finished flagging down one of the waitresses when a sharply-dressed gentleman slid into the narrow junction between her seat and another occupied chair. Tall but stocky with deeply tanned skin, the suit-wearing suitor seemed to have no inclination to apologizing to the woman he had all but shoved aside so Helena made certain that the sharp-dressed female bartender had heard her order before turning to say hello.

"Well, I think I'll pick up the tab for that one," the man said with a confident smile. Huntress had easily recognized the punk as Ivan Mendoza, a former capo of Rupert Thorne's East Gotham holdings and now an apparent emissary for the new game in town. "Y'know, I've been seein' you coming around this place for the past couple nights and there ain't been nobody on your arm. Figured it was a damn shame to see a pretty lady on her own just 'cause no one's got the guts to say hello."

Helena offered back a toothy grin. . . if only to hold back the sudden urge to vomit. "Well, I've just been admiring the sights," she finally replied while her mind's eye dredged up the wonderful image of snapping the man's wrist as it edged closer to her right hand. "I mean, this place really is one of a kind."

"Boy, I'll say," Mendoza noted while taking an unapologetic glance at Helena's chest. "An' I figure you'd feel right at home too. I mean, the only daughter of Guido Bertenelli shouldn't be too much of a surprising sight to see at this place."

It took a dangerous amount of diligence to fight back the urge to cinch while retaining her charm. The revelation wasn't too much of a surprise, especially given Mendoza's longtime history in Gotham, but the last thing she needed was undue attention. Of course, it was only natural that a rat like the one accosting her was quite comfortable in dealing with others discomfort and edged forward.

"Yeah, you're really startin' to look for a way to get back in, aren't ya? Guess a life in the burbs wouldn't taste too good to a chick born in the lap of luxury like you."

Helena could feel the fingers of her right hand quivering as she was tempted to trace the edges of the one-handed crossbow strapped to a garter underneath her dress. As she anticipated, Mendoza took the move to be an act of nervous flirtation, something seemingly more appropriate for the spoiled heiress that she had fought _damn _hard to avoid looking like and continued to bottle up her anger as Mendoza brought his lips to her left ear.

"Well, I'll have you know that I'm right at the front of the next big thing comin' to this town. Wouldn't mind havin' a looker like you along for the ride."

Mendoza had just begun to run his thick fingers along Helena's right ear before she finally slapped it aside. Surprised by the sudden move, Thorne's former lieutenant quickly gave in to being the toad that he was. Helena knew the game to come, the repugnance she felt from having to play her part already being soothed by the violence she'd be able to eventually commit in response and thus she was somewhat irritated as the scene was broken up by a loud cough and clearing of the throat.

"Woah, woah, woah! Can we keep it down over here! We're tryin' to have a good time!"

Finding herself distracted by the absurdly coarse Brooklyn accent, Helena took a split-second away from investigating Mendoza and instantly wished that she hadn't. For there, decked out in a red suit that would have been too gaudy in the eyes of a gangster in a Dick Tracy comic, stood Roy Harper. The dread that came with the recognition of her former lover was like a glass of ice water sent straight into her veins but the obvious merriment that the sharpshooter had drawn from her was enough to heat her blood back to a somewhat even keel. Watching in silence as Arsenal jauntily cocked his red-and-black bowler hat, she continued to seethe as Mendoza's attention was drawn away from her and her mission wound down to an embarrassingly grinding halt.

"Hey, how about you back the fuck up if ya know what's good for ya?" Mendoza offered, the unforgiving hostile tone a clear sign that the gangster was testing the waters.

In response, Roy calmly presented his hands and offered back a fearless smile. "Hey. I don't want any trouble," he said, his cavalier candor revealing that he was more than ready to take anything the other gentleman could throw at him. "I just want to make sure that my girl gets to keep on enjoyin' the show. She's got a real gentle disposition, y'know."

Helena made her third mistake of the night when she joined Mendoza in following Roy's indication of the lady in question. Her resentment continued to bubble over as she took in the sight of Kara Zor-el taking in the show on the stage, the willowy, long-limbed blonde seemingly endorsing the image of the lounge's elegant allure in a stunning black evening dress that showed a hint of her lightly tanned shoulders. The added features of the younger woman's smooth skin and her wide, blue eyes made the warrior woman appear as if she was worthy to be shown on the arm of Gable or Sinatra and that prompted The Huntress to start to question the club's apparent tolerance as it came to fake ID's.

"So howz about it, Don Vito?" asked Roy, the redhead enjoying the moment to a ridiculous degree. "Do you wanna calm it down or take the risk of throwin' down hands?"

The handful of silent seconds that passed next was rife with unspoken questions and answers. Helena was about to ask about Kara and Roy before she answered the question on her own just a moment after Roy's shrewd smirk provided the confirmation. Mendoza briefly looked back at Helena before taking a quick stare at Kara as he weighed his options once again and the infinitesimal edge in the grin in the red-suited stranger informed him that it was wise to get while the getting was good. As for Kara, she continued to put on the façade of a quiet observer of the shows unfolding both to east and north of her, the half-Kryptonian's absurdly enhanced senses allowing her to read the situation with far more efficiency than anyone around her.

"Don't think I'll forget about ya, sweetheart," Mendoza said, a mite of charm mixed in with all the malice as the thug wisely stepped away. Once he had gotten to what he believed to be a safe distance, the murderer gave Helena a shark's grin, all teeth and sharp violence, that might have tempted the raven-haired huntress into knocking the big man's ego down by a number of notches before she felt familiar, calloused fingers wrap around her right forearm.

"Hey, don't go anywhere on my account. I mean, I figure that anybody that would go for a guy like Catman might be interested in a walk on the wild side."

Helena met Roy's amused mockery by slamming the toes of her right foot into his right shin. "The only thing 'wild' about you is how many women actually fall for your little act," she replied as Arsenal let out a dramatic wince. "Myself included," she then hastily added before Roy could take the chance himself. "Dear God, and here I thought that Blondie over there at least had the good sense to stay away from your disease farm of a dick."

Kara immediately broke from her nonchalance by loudly spitting into her drink. The series of nearly spastic coughs that she needed to clear out her esophagus managed to draw the attention of several onlookers whose reactions ranged from concern to disgust but mostly settled on mild amusement.

"Oh. . . wow! We are so not a couple! I mean that there is just. . . a Bizarro's worth of wrong!"

"Well, gee, Kare Bear," Roy said, a sour frown accompanying the tilt of his head and his hands placed flat against the bar. "I never knew how much you didn't care."

Kara wisely put Arsenal in his place with a placating smile before fixing her sights upon her increasingly cautious audience. "I believe that I owe you two apologies, Miss Bertenelli. Sorry number one is for currently breaking up whatever investigation you had taking place. We're all looking into the people that Lex Luthor has or might be recruiting into his efforts to take over crime in Gotham City so perhaps we can pool our efforts and information together."

Whatever mild amusement Helena could take in the other woman's castigation of Roy was immediately intercepted with a surge of antagonism that twisted her lips into a frown. "Okay. And what's the second apology for?"

Sensing the tenuous ground around her, Kara offered a slightly sheepish smile as much of the crowd at the tables began to break into applause. "The second is for introducing myself to you in such an awkward manner," Kara replied, the younger woman leaning forward and speaking a bit louder to be heard over the noise. "To explain that one would be a bit of a long story."

"Try me," Helena offered back, her voice muted into nearly nothing by the surrounding cheers and claps but still something that Kara could easily pick up.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind that is, I think I'd like to save that story until the end of the show. I mean, I've got to admit that I'm a little intrigued about all this!"

As the once raucous symphony that rose from the orchestra pit began to dwindle into a slow, oboe-driven drone, Helena found that she couldn't help but fire an incredulous look at the former Teen Titan and Outsider. In response, Roy reacted with a hint of exasperation before treating Huntress with the same carefree, whimsical smile that reminded her of how he _had _gotten her into bed. . . on the couch. . . in the cargo bay of the jet that Batman had bought for Nightwing. . .

* * *

_Themyscira – 8:22 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

_The teams may change but the occasional boredom remains the same_, Oliver Queen couldn't help but think as he put another arrow to the string. After nearly 20 uninterrupted hours of briefings, investigations, and the resulting production of little to no useful conclusions, it was almost a blessing to be able to take a fraction of a second to smooth back the feathers of one of his steel-tipped arrows with the tips of his fingers. Bending the string until his right elbow was even with the tip of his shoulders, he slowly bent the longbow in a manner that would nearly guarantee him the optimum combination of speed and distance. After nearly thirty years of practice, the experienced archer could nearly count the degrees as he tilted his left wrist millimeter by millimeter, his right arm gently following along for the ride.

_Eight. . . nine. . . ten. _

There was no verbose display of enthusiasm or undue anticipation. Just the whistle of the arrow leaving the string followed in an instant by the blur of scarlet that blew the bangs of Oliver's otherwise short, blonde hair into his eyes. Distracted as he was, Green Arrow still had enough of his capacities to look on as his shot was intercepted out of what most would have thought to be thin air. As for him, the former mayor of Star City had barely enough time to even begin to extend his right hand before the steel-tipped arrow loomed in front of him ready to be returned.

"You jumped the gun."

"Oh, COME ON!" The Flash fumed, the young father and speedster too caught up in the contest to realize that Ollie was just messing with him. "Jeez, were you like this with my uncle too?"

_Absolutely_, Ollie thought to himself.

"Not a bit," Ollie said aloud, the vigilante maintaining the cool countenance worthy of a man known for concocting the hottest bowl of chili to ever grace The Watchtower kitchen. "Maybe that's because Barry never had to cheat like you."

Green Arrow couldn't even bat an eye before Wally had returned to the mutually agreed starting line, the unspoken command turning out to be a blessing because it was all Ollie could do to keep himself from breaking down in laughter. His next shot was more hastily constructed but only an expert in the field would be able to tell the difference. Another fraction of a second later and Wally was ready to return the arrow back to him, the red-and-yellow clad Misfit displaying another demonstration of acceleration that would have made his uncle proud.

"You know, you still haven't answered my question."

The newest member of The Misfits let out a dramatic sigh as he snatched the arrow away from his comrade. A few seconds later he had retrieved another arrow from his quiver and let it fly and it took even less for The Flash to return it to him.

"You mean the one about why I wanted to join your little Hitler Youth?" Ollie repeated, the words carefully selected in order to draw the optimum amount of annoyance. "I already told you. Is it so wrong for a father to honor a daughter's memory?"

Green Arrow was already prepared to start the next round until he realized that his bow had been taken away from him. Needing a moment to recover himself, he tried his best to remain composed when he noticed The Flash standing in front of him with his bow in one hand and his quiver strapped around the opposite shoulder.

"You never knew her as your daughter."

Taking a moment to ponder over whether or not he should try and take back his possessions, Ollie finally thought the better of it and took a step back. "Geez, kid. Well, then how about believin' that I'm just an old man wondering about the road not taken?"

"That seems more believable," Wally replied, the fingers of his left hand momentarily tickling against Ollie's bow before he moved to return the weapon to its proper owner.

"This is a fight that's been a long time coming, Wally. Maybe it's just the conspiracy buff in me but I can't help but think that whatever's coming has been waiting to arrive for a long time. Whatever it is, I want to meet it on the front line so I can get a good shot at it. It's the only way that I can do what I can to make sure that nothing draws a bead on someone that took the time to care about a fool like me."

Not having the same talent of forming a poker face as his colleague had, Wally couldn't restrain himself from a nod of understanding. Stooping down, he gently dropped the stocked quiver onto the ground and pulled another arrow from its still-healthy stocks before handing out to Ollie.

"And there's the whole added bonus of being able to pester Bruce."

Ollie didn't bother to hold in his laughter as he set the arrow to the strong. "Well, yeah! Not to mention that I'd like to get to know Barry's great-niece and nephew. Lord knows it ain't right that the bat-eared soulsucker has had a monopoly on 'em."

The next arrow hurtled forward and The Flash was upon it in an instant. Transferring a whit of his kinetic energy into the speeding projectile so that he could safely snag the dart from the air before either of them could strike the oak tree in the distance, he completed another successful catch only a moment before his body was overcome with agony.

* * *

"See that long, raven hair! Flowing down, about to there! Let me see her, running free. . ." _BOMP! _"Keep your money! That's enough for me!"

As the act on the stage tipped towards its bombastic climax, Kara allowed the lively smile she had been hiding to creep upon her face. Though usually not prone to giving in to the emotions around her (her antics on the battlefield and in the bedroom aside) the former Supergirl found herself enchanted by the exaggerated musical number that had drawn the attention of everyone in the room. She knew she couldn't have blamed it on any semblance of crisp choreography (which was actually a beat too slow for some of the long-legged dancers and a smidge too fast for others) or the quality of the singing (a warbling squawk of a tenor that wouldn't have been allowed to come within 100 yards of a Broadway show). Perhaps it was the enthusiasm around her, Helena's ridiculous display of revulsion or Roy's outright stunned silence but Kara thought she had found the answer in the unfettered enthusiasm radiating from the star of the show.

"I DON'T CARE FOR DRIVIN' PACKARD CARS! OR SMOKING LOOOOOONG, BUCK CIGARS! NO, NO, NOT ME!"

The singer who had no interest in restraining his unfettered enthusiasm now that the spotlight was solely upon him.

"Doing a guy in! Who's pickin' on you! Twistin' the wrist that's turnin' the screws!"

The star attraction of The Iceberg Lounge.

Oswald Cobblepot.

The Penguin.

"All I care about. . . . ISSSSSSS LOOOOOOOOOOVE!"

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

As richly complex and emotionally cosmopolitan my life has become, this clever author must admit that he occasionally likes to partake in the occasional video game or two. And, being a dyed-in-the-wool classic gamer (i.e. a person who will often wait years after a game comes out before buying it in order to play a "new" game at a reduced cost), I recently had the pleasure of playing Persona 4. I must admit that while I enjoyed both its predecessors within the series and its distant cousins known as the Digital Devil Saga, this particular game struck a number of interesting psychological chords to make it one of the most unique digital adventures that I've had the fortune to come across in a long time.

All that being said, do you think it would impugn upon the creative sanctity of this magnum opus if I just replaced Roy with a brown-eyed, steak eating, Bruce Lee obsessed Japanese teenage girl? I'm sure not too many people would notice!

* * *

_Issue #129 Preview_

Yes, The Penguin has made his way to the stage (some could say that he waddled his way onto it but I'll save those kind of remarks for certain sex-obsessed vigilantes). That being said, what will the portly pontificator with perilous panache have to bring to the table? Could there possibly be a connection to the rumblings in Gotham City's underworld and the misfortune that has come upon The Flash? And what will happen when Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon clash once again? All this and a somewhat unexpected return in the next installment of The Misfits: The Princess and The Penguin. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	129. The Princess and The Penguin

Issue #129

The Princess and The Penguin

_Gotham – The Iceberg Lounge – 11:25 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Only the most imprudent of gamblers would have wagered against the possibility that Oswald Cobblepot was the most comfortable of the four people seated around the luxuriant back office of Gotham's most infamous night spot. Though it was true that Kara was capable of running a close second, the half-Kryptonian settled as she was within an 18th century Parisian black oak fainting couch, the slight restlessness in the young but elegant woman's eyes as she looked upon her two accomplices had taken her out of the running some time ago. Helena, on the other hand, did not even bother to participate in the unspoken contest and chose to not only radiate with her barely controlled enmity but also punctuate it by impatiently tapping her right heel against the wooden floor while Roy was anxiously shifting his thoughts between the possibility of Helena killing him, his host trying to kill him, or the fleeting chance that he could get a hold of the carafe containing what appeared to be about a liter of preciously aged Courvoisier that had been placed ever so carelessly on top of a work table on the western side of the room.

Another thing that could be said for certain was that the former crime lord and frequently failed socialite known infamously as The Penguin was enjoying everything going on around him. He soaked in the awkwardness, anger, and hesitance and savored the fact that none of it was his own. Born a child of privilege, Oswald Cobblepot should have been destined to live a fruitless life of luxury if fate and his mutated genetic inheritances had not equipped him with a laundry list of physical abnormalities ranging from webbed hands to an elongated nose to a prenatal case of macrocephaly that gave him no chance to survive in the unusual rigors of high society.

Of course, given the pomp and circumstance surrounding the birth of the supposed heir to one of the most powerful steel magnates on the Eastern seaboard, Oswald's father and mother were forced to spend a handful of years enduring the shame of their imperfect offspring. Their attempts to correct their child's physical deformities through a variety of painful surgeries combined with the luxuries provided by the finest foods and services a fortune could provide served to create an ill-tempered, hopelessly fractured child when he was dropped off at a Chicago orphanage shortly before his sixth birthday.

Though it would be nearly two decades until he learned the whole truth behind the matter, Oswald managed to pass that time by drowning within his own dichotomies. He sought to educate himself to obtain the fame, money, and prestige that he had been given in the past and was now denied of in the present. When years of classical education and training failed to overcome his abnormalities he angrily devoted himself to becoming the freak that people whispered of when no one thought he was listening. Oswald Cobblepot became The Penguin, a genius at one moment and a hateful, bloodthirsty monster the next who seemed just as comfortable with engaging in an amiable argument as he was with committing some of the grisliest deeds in Gotham's vast history of crime.

However, if we are to truly consider this tale properly, we must remember that another three decades had passed since the tales of that monstrosity had passed. Now several months shy of his 56th birthday, Oswald Cobblepot had no need for additional cash to fill his coffers and had just retreated from a throng of revelers that had been all too eager to applaud his exploits on the stage. This was a Penguin who looked complacent, content, and perhaps no more dangerous than he had ever been.

"My dear, it is precisely as I have told you lot time and time again," Cobblepot began, his refined tones framed in a manner to best demonstrate his intellectual superiority. "My interest and attention towards the more sullied portions of our fair city's dealings are solely devoted to keeping an eye on those who would bring harm to either my investments or myself. For you see, as glorious as this metropolitan haven may be, I would be a faulty fool to forget that there are many people in Gotham who would wish to acquire greater prominence through ill-fashioned means."

"And that is exactly what we came to talk to you about this evening," began Kara Zor-el, her crystalline blue eyes taking on a slightly darker tinge that neatly accompanied her more serious tone. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to share what you have but I'm sure that we can work something out."

Cobblepot produced what he hoped to be a graceful smile, the sharp, small tips of his undersized incisors making the response that much more frightening. "Oh, I'm sure," he said silkily, the slightly cloying tone like nails on a chalkboard to those around him. "Perhaps we might barter over those succulent charms of yours, young lady? An enchanting smile like yours would go a long way towards bringing in more privileged clientele that would line both your pockets and mine."

Kara managed a second or two of coquettishness thanks to a batting of her eyelashes and a graceful crossing of her long legs. "Well, I haven't had to worry about money in a long time," she confessed with a hint of dramatic guilt. "As a matter of fact, I think it might be safer for you to take your mind off such things because it looks as though one of my colleagues is getting more and more interested with relieving their frustrations by breaking your bones."

Cobblepot responded with a disapproving sigh, his squat, black eyes briefly hidden from view. When he opened them again, the pupils were focused squarely upon the security camera in the northwestern corner of the room, the continuing reminder that he held the trump card.

"Such a frightening proposition," he said flatly. "Not to mention that it provided another reminder of why I chose to escape from these kinds of tawdry endeavors. I've found that if one spends too much time focusing on violence and the fear that comes with being harmed in return then they can miss out on so many of the finer qualities of life."

"Oh, cut the crap!" Huntress barked back, her hostile tone drawing the slightest of smirks from Cobblepot's thick lips. "Just take a look around at this office of yours," she added while pointing from one potential attraction to the next. "You've still got all the trick umbrellas! The fencing blades up on the wall! Hell, you still have that wretched vulture that pulled out a huge chunk out of my hair a couple years back right after it tried to go after my eyeballs!"

To her credit, Agides the vulture responded with nothing more than a dignified screech. Her owner, on the other hand, chose the less noble route by wobbling up to his feet and striding towards the aforementioned cage.

"My amiable avian associate aside, I would like to once again assure you that the items you see here are nothing more than keepsakes," The Penguin replied while raising the stubby fingers of his left hand towards the cage in order to nuzzle the bird's long neck. "Perhaps one could consider them as an array of aloof aide memoires, reminders of the loathsome monstrosity that I had become in my misaligned quest to achieve fame and fortune."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with remembering the past," Roy said in concession, the sharpshooter quite aware that his former lover's attempts were going nowhere. "What we're here to talk about though is the present. You said that you don't know anything significant about what is going on between The Grove Street Ballers and the new game in town, my partner thinks you're lying, and I want to know about what."

The Penguin looked at Roy as if it physically hurt to regard a mere gentleman after having the opportunity to speak with the two fine examples of the female species on display. "I told you that this is all I know. I am aware of some form of quarrel taking place between the criminals of this conurbation and it apparently has to do with some forms of undercutting on services or some such twaddle but nothing more. As an upstanding citizen of our fair city, I would no sooner place myself in such sordid affairs than have my entertainers conduct a cavalcade of Katy Perry aural monstrosities. Feh, the untalented tart."

"You're lying again," Kara calmly replied, the simple words drawing a look from The Penguin that indicated that her stylish composure would only earn her so much tolerance. "Well, not about the Katy Perry thing but about who the players are. You _know _that Lex Luthor is in charge of the new crime wave, the same person who cost you millions when he tried to stick his nose into The No Man's Land."

For all his calm allure, Cobblepot couldn't conceal the entirety of the revulsion he felt for Metropolis's former favorite son. Taking a moment to shuffle back to his chair, the generously proportioned grandstander poured a snifter's worth of Courvoisier into a crystal goblet and drank it down stiffly.

"And just what would you expect out of me if I did know more, my dear?" The Penguin asked, the former criminal's voice holding an edge to it that was demonstrably absent from before. "You strike me as the type of creature who rarely has to deal with limitations; the boundaries and precincts defined by society and designed to keep the rank and rabble in order. As for Alexander Luthor, that preening prattler has often demonstrated to me that I could not hope to attain his prestige and self-concocted majesty so what makes you think that I would tolerate to being one of his pathetic lackeys?"

Cobblepot lightly slammed his cup back to the table, the impact rough enough for a slight crack to appear at the container's foundation but still controlled enough to keep it from shattering completely. Having gathered all the available attention in a manner that could only be pulled off by either a politician or a ruthless criminal, he swept his sights across the three individuals hanging on his words.

"Would the raven-haired woman still like to insinuate that I am involved in criminal wrongdoing? Well, I am not only pleased to report that the entirety of my activities is truly legitimate but I would also like to serve my part as a giving host and answer the question to come before you have to bother about asking it. The fact of the matter is that I have always endeavored to be a creature of class and now I found that there is no more noble or refined pursuit than achieving my aspirations without resorting to the tawdry misdeeds that define my past." Again revealing his pointed incisors while directing his beady, black eyes straight at the fuming Helena, he added, "If anything else, it allows me to fill you do-gooders to the brim with frustration."

* * *

_Themyscira – 8:27 P.M. Pacific Central Time_

The orchestrator of Wally's agony descended to the earth in her usual, histrionic fashion. While her beguiling smile looking almost dazzling enough to substitute for the setting sun, the glimmer within Circe's blood-red eyes seemed to give off a thin sliver of sympathy amidst the never-sated contempt she held for humanity at large.

"How fitting that one of Earth's most stalwart champions can fall by only the distractions of a game meant for mongrel beasts," purred the exiled Amazon, her comments deafened both by the supernatural hum around her fingertips and the gritted out screams of The Flash as he remained caught within the crackling tendrils she had created. "Still, I suppose I should offer my compliments. Out of those within our esteemed council, Luthor was the only one who believed that you would survive Queklain."

Fifty yards and an insurmountable difference in evolution away, Green Arrow gnashed his teeth as another of his arrows failed to hit its mark. The shot he had fired and the two that came before it had all been hurtling straight for who he intended only for each of his steel-tipped projectiles to be cast aside or smashed by some kind of invisible force barrier. Realizing that he needed to go all out and quick, Oliver prepared the highest-yield concussive blast arrow in his arsenal.

"Of course, that would be the crux of creatures like you," Circe noted while continuing to watch the speed merchant struggle to break free. "We expect so little of you that you can occasionally surprise us with your ability and yet you so often disappoint that it's hard to imagine that anyone could expect anything out of you. That's _why _it's so rare to see one of you noticing the strings on your back since before you were even born. Before some ignorant example of your disease decided to mate with the other in a vain attempt to. . ."

Circe briefly tilted her head to the left if only to get a closer look at the arrow screaming towards her, the sharpened senses bequeathed to her at birth and magnified by millennia worth of experience enabling her to easily spot the blinking red light signaling that the C-4 strapped to the shaft was primed to explode on impact. With a sigh and a snap of her fingers, the witch transformed the ineffective projectile into a snow-white dove which briefly fluttered over her head before disappearing from reality altogether.

"You. . . you were the one behind the armory robberies."

Circe regarded The Flash's pained suspicions with nearly as much pity as she had given to Green Arrow. "Of course I was, you phenomenal oaf. That much should be quite obvious even to you. What you should truly be concerned about is just how little of the effort was required by myself and just how much of it was provided by the same dictatorship that you've apparently come to rescue."

"Aw, come on, Harry Breaster," Green Arrow shouted while continuing to sprint forward, his left arm swinging in front of him while his right was digging into the quiver strapped to his back. "I mean, I know this place is pretty damn conservatively minded for a colony full of women but at least they don't resort to wholesale genocide. Or allying with dem_URPH!_'

"Quiet," Circe ordered calmly, the witch quashing her uncouth critic with a silencing spell before sending the goateed human crashing to the ground with a paralysis hex. "I have no need or desire to waste time amongst the pretenders this night. These are matters left to genuine champions, heroes and heroines who continue to fight while being well aware that there is so much to lose."

It was only a slight surprise to the witch that the mightier of her two opponents was finally able to finally break free of her supernatural trap. Teleporting several hundred feet into the air to avoid whatever retribution the scarlet-garbed speedster could offer, Circe adjusted the flow of enchantments coursing through her body so that a portion of it would center and remain around her throat.

"You may have chosen to maintain your worthless desire to avoid taking a human life, Wallace West, but you have continued to willfully fight alongside those that paved the way for the new order of the world to rise," the witch declared, her voice amplified with supernatural energy to the point where her words could easily reach their faraway destination. "My associates appreciate your diligence and commiserate your insistence for continuing the fight in order to preserve the safety of your stock. _I _felt the passion that roiled about your innards as you desperately struggled through Queklain and it entertained me. Enticed me."

Wally had clambered to the top of the tree that had served as the border for the previous game in an instant. His efforts still left him far away from the conniving temptress but now he could reach her in a bound, a mutually known fact that prompted Circe to regard him with a slightly wary gaze. In response, The Flash gave the witch another reason to be on her guard as he bent his knees until he could rest his elbows on his thighs.

"I'm not all that interested in looking for someone new in my life," The Flash confessed. "Of course, I figure you already know that so what, exactly, do you want me to make of this kind of offer? I mean, are you saying that you, Luthor, and whoever else you have behind you would be more than happy to just let me walk and I'm supposed to believe that?"

"That is precisely what I'm saying," Circe replied, her smile beguiling while the rest of her countenance remained stern and impassive. "As your master may have informed you, Luthor does not wish harm upon those who could provide a service in the new humanity that we shall create. Similarly, he has enough wisdom to recognize that such workers are best left content when they are allowed to seek comfort in those that they care for before leaping into the line of fire. Your wife and children will be provided sanctuary from the warfare should it come to that and, upon our victory, they will continue to receive what they wish to work for."

"Well, that there is tempting," The Flash recognized, his eyes flashing gold where green had been just a moment before. "And what happens to those who _don't _have a place? Or maybe just the ones that rub you guys the wrong way? You're telling me that you guys expect us to just stand around and relax while you try to turn what we've protected for so long into nothing but a blank slate?"

"Not at all. What we expect is for you to continue helping to make the world a safer place to live for those who want to work to make it better," Circe insisted. "Come now, Wallace. You should be well aware of the fruitlessness of trying to wipe away five weeks of humanity's wastefulness, much less five millennia! The only true solution is to eliminate as many of the wasteful elements as possible and then move on to working with what remains. Right now you can assure that your wife and children will be among those who will live and flourish through the zenith of history! You can make certain that Jai and Iris will not be forced to abandon or forget their father."

The golden lightning that had already set the highest branches of the trees to burning crackled violently while Wally stayed still. "And that's all there is to it? I take my family out of the warzone and Luthor gets another shot at trying to shape the world into his own image?"

Circe offered back a wry smile. "I appreciate the cynicism, mortal. However, if you're as much of a student of history as I have forced myself to be, you may find that such forced removals of the undesirable elements of our society were doomed from the start thanks to the good intentions of the best that humanity had to offer. Now, however, you have the smartest of your kind willing to see eye-to-eye with the pinnacle of humanity's physical ideal. _This _is the moment that you have earned, the circumstances that the gods above and those that walk among you have salivated for. Bring your journey to an end and protect your precious Ithaca before it is too late for either of you."

Wally absorbed the poignant pitch while somehow remaining completely still. For all his sarcasm, there was no denying the allure of what was being presented to him. It was a near blueprint of what he had been looking for in the months after he had been blessed with two wonderful children by a wife he still labored and fought to deserve. On the other hand, The Flash had gone through several years worth of mistakes and successes and, as most of us tend to, he had become a smarter man for it. So much so that he was able to continue holding Circe's alluring gaze until the moment when Diana had been a fraction of a second away from cleaving the witch's head from her shoulders.

"Yeah. No deal." The Flash informed no one in particular as he leapt from the burning sycamore tree. He adjusted the flow of his kinetic energy to better plan out his descent as Lloyd's lightning-fast arrival summoned a gust of wind that nearly blew his body into a neighboring elm. As he pondered over whether or not such a horticultural phenomenon could exist without the aid of the magic that permeated Themyscira's very soil, Wally made a safe landing despite the growing numbers of mythological beastlings that seemed to rise from the very earth itself. Manticores and minotaurs and enormous multi-headed dragons and hydras all threw their portions into an unholy havoc that he had leapt his way.

"Looks like we just stepped into the middle of one of Mia's video games," Ollie mused, his nimble hands putting an arrow to the string even as he continued to backpedal away from any lines of fire. As he let his favorite weapon fly, the sharpshooter continued to scan the field for the most important targets even as he brought down an emerald-scaled dragon with a shot that landed right below the creature's right eyeball. "I may not know much about these things but isn't the archer supposed to be in the back row?"

The Flash dashed into the fray without answering the question, his legs churning towards whatever target he thought to be closest to Green Arrow. Distracted by the efforts as he was, the speed merchant didn't quite notice the blast of eldritch energy screaming down from the sky until it was on the verge of hitting Ollie square in the chest. He stopped and skidded to where his feet dug ankle deep into the forest floor and turned around but the bolt of energy had already found its target.

"Get down, Arrow!" The Black Dog yelled as he shoved the archer out of the way. It was far too much of a risk to teleport down to Circe's attack, gather Oliver and then teleport out so the British half-demon chose to meet the attack head on. His borrowed millennia of supernatural experience quickly guiding him towards the identity of what the enchantress had chosen to employ, he had just finished putting the pieces of the puzzle together when he faded from the dimensional plane.

"Witch!" Wonder Woman exclaimed from high above as she continued to chase down Circe from where she had just teleported off to. "What have you done to that boy?"

Using her rival's anger to her advantage, Circe managed to cobble up a ball of luminescent energy that exploded in front of Diana's eyes like a solar flare. The Amazonian princess reeled from the impact, her eyes swimming in explosions of color that prevented her from registering the attack that followed until it was far too late.

"Find out for yourself," Circe advised as Wonder Woman disappeared.

* * *

_Metropolis – Kord Tower – 8:43 P.M. Central Standard Time_

Oracle had just raised her "Kiss the Librarian" coffee mug to her lips when her sharp ears registered the hum of the JLA's transmat systems. Finding the ingestion of caffeine to be a more noble pursuit than proceeding straight to the simple, social niceties, the red-haired computer expert took a moment to savor the smooth warmth of the herbal tea Creote had been kind enough to prepare for her as the sound of black combat boots clomping against the tile floor rang in her ears. Placing the glass container back down with both hands, she turned around just in time for her legs to "catch" the extensive file folder that had been nimbly tossed into her lap.

"Intergang."

Barbara Gordon had no trouble recognizing either the label or the meaning behind it. The former Batgirl further confirmed her mutual knowledge with a nod of the head before turning back round to her small army of supercomputers and surveillance arrays. "Well, that was almost a given," she said in greeting as her fingers flew over the nearby keyboard. "That organization sprung up in Metropolis shortly after Superman chose to take his sabbatical a couple years back. It became pretty clear at the outset that they were trying to fill the void left behind by the collapse of The Secret Society. I mean, their very first move was drawing in a good proportion of the criminal connections that Luthor had abandoned after he left for The White House. I naturally thought that Lex was behind the sudden insurgence and even attempted to point Lois Lane in what I thought to be the right directions but everything we found did nothing but all it did was shift the spotlight to another dead end."

By now Batman had come close enough to loom over Oracle's shoulder, the cowled vigilante apparently having little trouble falling back into the familiar role. "That's because Luthor lost nothing from refusing to take active control of crime in Metropolis at that time," the detective replied, his gravelly tone bringing a knowing smirk to the lips of his compatriot. "His position as president left him with enough opportunities to siphon money and power away from state and federal coffers without having to dirty the many hands of his multinational corporation. On the other hand, his own fascinations with bringing Superman down to his level left him wide open for attack and allowed me to steer Talia towards taking over the bulk of Lex's legitimate financial holdings."

"Which forced his hand towards taking over more and more control of Intergang," Oracle concluded, the younger of the two crime-solving masterminds showing she was on precisely the same track. "Still, that's not enough to produce a paper trail that could prove his involvement and we're already going to be encumbered by the fact that he's already managed to build up enough momentum to take over the bulk of organized criminal activity in Metropolis, Chicago, Star City, and at least a half-dozen other major metropolitan centers."

"And now he's trying to get back into Gotham."

Pausing from the keystrokes she would need to present a list of Intergang's latest purchases of abandoned property lots throughout Gotham, Oracle tilted her head and ended up having a nice view of Batman's pronounced chin. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it, there were rumors that Intergang made an attempt to stretch their influence into Gotham once before. Of course, it didn't take a genius like me to realize that they weren't very successful but I've had a hell of a time piecing together the truth from all the rumors. All sorts of weird stories about ghosts and demonic possessions and some kind of contortionist raising havoc. . ."

Batman provided a grim glower to Oracle's unspoken allegation, the gesture more than enough proof to show that Barbara's insinuations already held a good portion of the truth. The fact of the matter was that Intergang had made an attempt to step into the spots that scum like Carmine Falcone, Roland Daggett and Rupert Thorne had dug into the body and heart of his city. The operations were headed up by a former hit man who called himself Johnny Stitches, a scarred monstrosity of a fellow who had no problem with falling headlong into the quasi-religious twaddle that Luthor had chosen to employ in order to rake in the more soft-minded members of the metahuman community. Perhaps someone higher up within the organization believed that a fractured mess like Stitches would have been a perfect choice to hold sway over the criminal freak show that Gotham had been dubbed for the last two decades but, when all was said and done, the only person who had managed to gain anything meaningful from the decision was Batman himself.

"Ragdoll, A.K.A. Peter Merkel Jr.," Barbara interrupted while an image of the scraggly, red-haired member of The Secret Six suddenly took center stage upon the gigantic monitor in front of her. "Currently rumored to be in league with several criminal outfits basing themselves in Hong Kong and Pyongyang, Merkel is wanted for questioning concerning his possible involvement in a number of assaults on people suspected of being affiliated with Intergang."

As lawful of a soul as he was, The Dark Knight of Gotham City couldn't help but smirk as he recalled some of the more intriguing journal entries that had awaited him after he and Nightwing had completed their four week expedition to the snow-capped mountains of Nanda Parbat. Having considered Johnny Stitches to be "an ignominious charlatan worthy of his most callous kindnesses", Merkel had apparently been quite giddy to volunteer when The Black Dog had asked Scandal Savage for an assistant in the task of extricating Intergang from the city. While Kara continued regular patrols of the city and Stephanie aided the efforts to reconstruct and then refurbish Arkham Asylum, Lloyd paired up with his unlikely assistant and employed Noah's diligent efforts to first root out then run out Luthor's second-hand representatives at a dizzying pace. The detective would have asked for greater details as to the conclusion of the entire affair but all he really needed was the story of the heads of the Metropolis branch of Intergang receiving a small package containing the 762 stitches that had once been sowed to the frame of their lieutenant.

Apparently that was enough to convince Lex Luthor that Gotham wasn't quite yet worth the risk.

"How long have you known?"

Oracle did her best to look calm as she shrugged her shoulders. "Around the point when the roof of a Lexcorp building had to be replaced after the pulpy remains of Johnny Stitches crashed through it." Noting no real sign of discontent or dismay from her former mentor, Barbara gently removed her glasses before rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "You've been efficient, Bruce. Frightfully so, in fact. Still, all of this does beg the question of what's going to happen when the web you've weaved starts to stretch further than it can handle."

Batman crossed his brawny forearms across his chest. "And yet you clearly had gathered enough information to put everything I've done to a stop and you didn't do it," he said simply, the mannerisms so similar to the foppish image of Bruce Wayne that Barbara nearly shuddered.

"Yes, and the only reason I didn't is because you seemed to be making all the right decisions," Barbara countered, the computer expert turning about in her wheelchair and then stopping so quickly that her dead legs jostled from the sudden impact. "You brought in The Calculator when he could have done so much damage if he had been left to his own devices. Your team somehow managed to build up a counter-resistance to The Sinestro Corps and uproot them in a matter of weeks when it should have taken months. Hell, you apparently managed to upend a demonic invasion that should have killed millions but only ended up with a handful of casualties."

Having had a day to recover from yesterday's vigorous dispute, Batman was able to swallow the blasé description by resorting to logic.

"You think it's been too easy."

It suddenly felt as if a test was being taken by the two frightening intelligent individuals within this haven of information, a trial to see who would break the silence first and Barbara, to her credit, managed to keep her gaze steady until Batman had silently asked her to go on. "I don't know what to think yet," she finally confessed while turning back to the screens, her fingers tapping at the keyboard at a machine-gun pace. "We've made it our mission to save the world when the bad guys show up. I get that. It's what we've been doing for years. That's why we're all gearing up for whatever is going to happen when Luthor finally decides to make his actual move but why has he waited until now? What does he gain?"

Though she found it odd that she was realizing it, Barbara spotted that Batman had shut his eyes despite the shields provided by the white, one-way lenses installed in the vigilante's cowl. Perhaps it was just that she was paying an undue amount of attention to the settling of Bruce's jaw or the fact that she was threatening to be lost in her own thoughts but it was enough to keep Oracle silent and patient for Batman's response. As fate would have it though, whatever suspicions or solutions or questions that would have arisen were suddenly tossed aside by the swoosh of a sliding door and the merry whistling that followed it. Turning along with her guest, Oracle looked on with mild interest as Dinah Laurel Lance continued to make her presence felt, the blonde-haired songstress known by much of the world as The Black Canary still looking quite cheery and active despite 43 hours without sleep.

"Good evening, boss lady," Dinah said jauntily while continuing to stride towards a nearby weapons cabinet. Of course, given that the veteran vigilante was one of the world's foremost experts in hand-to-hand combat and possessed a sonic scream that could punch a hole through solid steel, it was safe to say that The Black Canary was perusing the array of bladed instruments for her own amusement. "Oh, look. We have what I'm guessing to be an uninvited guest."

"Dinah," Batman said grudgingly, the hardened crime fighter taking the Justice Leaguer's sprightly demeanor as a personal insult judging from the twitching of his jaw.

"He was expected," Oracle explained, the red-head trying and failing to suppress a smile. "You were also supposed to be here. About an hour-and-a-half ago, in fact."

"Well, I have an excused absence," Black Canary gamely replied, the martial artist taking a moment to sweep up the file folder that Batman had handed to Oracle upon his arrival. Opening it without any prompting for permission or refusal, she feigned at looking over the information on Intergang until it seemed as if Batman's irritation seemed to be rising from every potential pore. "Garth noticed that Wonder Woman didn't make it the meeting and decided that it was his turn to make some epic speeches," she explained while continuing to flip through the pages. "You can ask Dickie. He was the one who kept kicking me in the shin whenever I started to fall asleep."

"He already told me," Barbara answered while wheeling to snatch Batman's dossier away before her longtime partner could pretend to read any more. "Besides, the last thing I need is for you to pass out from exhaustion before you have to make a HALO drop over North Vietnam so I'm giving you the night off." Upon Black Canary's upturned eyebrows she added, "Go. Out. Amscray. Bother someone else with your blonde behavior."

"Oh, alright," Dinah replied before starting to flounce away. However, as she was near the halfway point between her boss and her freedom, she thought to turn about. "Ah, a couple more things. Bruce, thanks so much for letting Ollie join your group. Don't tell him this but I think that a chance like that is something he's been trying to find for a long time. Also, I'm sensing a lot of the 'eau de brood' here so if this is finally the time the two of you are finally apologizing for being douches to one another then please remember that a kind word today is a lot easier than a lengthy explanation tomorrow."

Despite the prospective consequences, Batman felt he needed to talk a deep breath. "You're welcome, Dinah. And I'll take your advice if only because you seem to have so much personal experience in that particular field."

"Touché," The Black Canary countered with an overdramatic wince before turning back to her best friend and longtime overseer. "As for Broodgirl here, I may not be all Sherlock Holmesy like you two but I got enough in my noggin to know how valuable it is to have someone who has always been there for you. . . and is nice enough to step back when you don't want them there. I don't know. I guess it'd be something to keep in mind when it comes to a question of whom pissed off who."

Having more experience with the unforgiving chatterbox that had rained on their parade, Oracle was able to weather the knowing stare and fire back with a dismissive wave.

"Out," came the eventual dual reply.

"Fine. Fine. I occasionally know when I'm not wanted," Dinah declared, the field leader of The Birds of Prey finally willing to let her anti-social comrades off the hook. "Besides, it might be nice to go out and pretend that I have a social life. Nice break from the normal death threats and practical leather outfits."

The door swung shut but Barbara and Bruce's thoughts on the matter remained out in the open, the two restrained champions not certain of what to make out of the bizarre creature that had assaulted them with the foreign objects of social logic and sensitivity. One would think that the mutual history the both of them shared with The Black Canary would have done something to diminish the damages and Oracle, given the years she had spent enduring Dinah's psychological jaunts, proved her worth by being the first to recover.

"She is single, you know. 'Achingly so', if I could borrow her words. And there's the whole matter of the two of you kissing that night when you thanked Helena for the work she had done a couple years back to uproot a H.I.V.E. faction out of Gotham."

Batman fixed his ex-understudy with the sternest glare he could rally. He was mostly focused on his shameless attempt to goad more of the lively young woman of the past that had suddenly reemerged but the matter remained that a suggestion like that simply deserved no less than an overtly critical response.

"I'm dating Selina," he replied, the two words somehow slipping through the infinitesimal gap between his gritted teeth. "You know we've been seeing each other for months now."

Barbara's green eyes were nearly dancing. "Uh huh. And this is. . . what. . . your sixth go-round with Catwoman?"

"Seventh," Batman replied, the honest admittance forcing Oracle to place her hand over her mouth and bite down lightly to keep from breaking out in laughter. "And while you're busy ridiculing me, maybe you could take that to mean that what I have with Selina is something worth keeping?"

"Or you're scared of trying something that will have more complicated results. . ."

"Says the woman who has thrown enough bones at my child to make a Dalmatian envious. . ."

Bruce was quite grateful that his old friend was busy turning a beet-like shade of red. Otherwise, the possibility of having to explain that he had just blatantly stolen a joke from Stephanie Brown may have infused his cerebral cortex with enough irony to make his head explode.

* * *

_Themyscira – 8:34 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

"My lord, look at the plumage on that thing. To think that I would come across an Archaeopteryx in my lifetime. . ."

Oliver wisely chose to tune out the rest of the bewildered sounding chatter, the emerald-garbed archer already distracted enough by the heady task of keeping his legs wrapped around the neck of the bucking prehistoric creature even as the both of them soared higher into the air. Wagering that he didn't have enough distance to pull off a decent shot, Green Arrow opted to remove the middleman from the equation and simply took one of his steel-tipped arrows in hand and plunged the edge into the side of the beast's neck. The garbled squawk assaulted his ears but it was a debilitating enough blow to force the winged servant of Circe to focus all its efforts on making an awkward descent. Having nearly ten seconds to busy himself with readjusting his legs and perching his feet to await for just the right moment, the newest member of The Misfits leapt from his wounded prey when they were only a good eight feet off the ground. Twisting his body through a graceful front somersault, Green Arrow found himself both victorious and uninjured while the prehistoric bird was left to crash into one of the unforgiving oak trees.

"Hey! How about a little less gawking and a little more gazing!" he grouchily advised while looking for another target. "The kid in the scarlet pajamas may like these kinds of odds but I'm startin' to feel a bit itchy."

"I apologize but it's as I told you before, Green Arrow. I can normally employ science to trump supernatural phenomenon but something of this caliber may be an altogether different matter," replied the slightly condescending voice on the other end of the comm. link, the slight hitch in Noah's usually calm candor indicating that he was just as beleaguered about the situation as Ollie. "I'm patching into every satellite frequency that I can safely get a hold of in order to locate The Black Dog but I've yet to come up with anything. I'll continue searching with whatever devices I can employ but _you _should currently concern yourself with diving to your left."

"Diving to my _SHIT?" _Ollie exclaimed, his odd statement launched with confusion but completed with understanding as he instinctually followed The Calculator's advice and avoided the singing blast of purple energy by a matter of inches. Rolling back to his feet, he dove for what little cover the surrounding trees could provide as more force bolts accosted him from above.

"Well, it would appear that fortune is favoring me wonderfully this evening," Circe crowed, the witch amusing herself by continuing to toy with the desperate human below. "I had only expected to ensnare that charlatan of an Amazon but I managed to trap the half-blood as well. Of course, that doesn't leave me with a great deal to amuse myself with, does it?" she mused while waiting patiently for her overmatched opponent to grow nervous. Finally tiring of it after only handful of seconds, she curled the elegant fingers of her right hand and fired a pinkish-red bolt of energy that set Green Arrow's cover ablaze and forced the amusing hunt to begin again.

Ollie bit out a curse as he rolled across the forest floor in order to subdue the flickers of flames that were clinging to the underside of his quiver. Setting another arrow to the string, he remained on one knee as he aimed and fired at his target before continuing to dash for cover while Circe allowed his attack to harmlessly _plink _off of her enchanted breastplate. The move had been a gamble and the champion of Star City would pay for it as a pair of parallel-running energy blasts detonated on either side of him, the pair of explosions tossing him into the air. He had just enough time to take a good guess at what his odds were for being incinerated before he could hit the ground when his eyes were bathed in crimson and gold and his body was suddenly being whisked forward at a speed he couldn't hope to guess. In the seconds he needed to recover, Green Arrow looked on as Circe crashed to the ground when the oak tree to her left had been uprooted by a hurricane-force gust and sent crashing into her.

The Flash was lashing out at Circe before the immortal witch could even hit the ground, the speedster turning a series of tight, hasty circles around where the enchantress would land in order to create a violently turbulent kinetic hurricane. Employing the lightning to his advantage, he kept Circe suspended within his own swirling network of energy while throwing punch after punch that crackled with enormous amounts of static electricity. Every near connection was met by an invisible force barrier but that wasn't enough to deter the young father and veteran champion as he kept on hammering away until the strain showed on the face of the comely enchantress.

Not about to stoop to the indignity of engaging in a test of will, Circe teleported away from the storm and left The Flash to send his left hand through the trunk of an aged oak tree. "So goes the struggles of the swift fish in an ocean too large for them to steer through," the witch said in mocking while employing the split seconds her opponent needed to extricate his limb from the sudden impediment to regain the offensive. "Look at yourself, child! First you were sent away from the battlefield in Hashmalamum and now you're the last line in a hopelessly shattered defense," she declared while continuing to chase the streak of red and gold with energy beams that twisted around and through whatever The Flash attempted to use as cover. "We tried to honor you with mercy for all your festive endeavors but this was the fate you chose. You left your wife a widow! You abandoned your children with nothing more for them to remember you by but the memories of a father who chose not to protect them and died for a fruitless cause protecting an old man he should have abandoned long ago."

The Flash noticed Circe diverting her efforts a shade of a second before he needed to. Although they were far sterner and open to strain than the greatest of Olympic sprinters, the tendons along his right knee and leg let loose with a series of angry complaints as he twisted on his heels and skidded until he could dash to the left and sweep Green Arrow away from the throng of monsters that were assigned to distract the middle-aged soldier from Circe's lightning-fast assassination attempt. Depositing the sharpshooter in a spot on the battlefield that would leave his uncle's old friend some time to recuperate, he chose to change his game plan in an instant as he rushed head-on into Circe's latest attack. Focusing sternly on the portion of The Speed Force that allowed him to manipulate the kinetic energy flowing through his very molecules, he managed to pass through the blast and continued moving forward even as the eldritch signatures seemed to singe his very bones. Having caught the exiled Amazon by surprise, he leapt upward and caught Circe on the chin with a flying thrust kick that threw the goddess for a loop before she spiraled to the ground in a messy, face-first landing.

"Gotta catch me first."

* * *

It had been a good, long while since Lloyd had felt lost. Disconnected, yes. Bamboozled, certainly. Hell, he had even spent numerous lengthy moments pondering over the degree of control he possessed over the direction of his soul and how he would assign it to shoulder the weight of his actions and reactions even while his lover snoozed beside him in a blessedly restful slumber.

Lost was a new one though. And, as most of us are wont to do, he decided to address this problem in a familiar idiom.

"Okay. My comm. link is dead, I'm not seeing any familiar landmarks, and there isn't any directional assistance comin' from the greater demon rooting about my brain pan," he noted while pulling the _Mugalshir _free from its scabbard. A silver tinge rising in his hazel eyes, The Black Dog continued to register the massive formations of black-and-red igneous rock looming around him, the foreboding mountains separated only slightly by deadened flatlands that seemed designed to drain the vigor out of anything that still had energy to offer. "Still, I must admit that the landscape is getting disturbingly familiar."

"This is Tarturus," Wonder Woman said with a curt reply, the Amazon regarding the ash-laden skies above with a familiar loathing. "For the people of Themyscira, this hell dimension serves as a purgatory for warriors who have perished while either abandoning or falling away from the wishes of the gods. Given the general philosophies nurtured by my people, consignment here would be regarded as the greatest of punishments."

Lloyd pursed his lips at that. "Yeah, so I gathered from the brochures and the mythology books," the half-demon murmured back, his words drawing a cautious look from his well-built comrade. "That bein' said, I would have liked to think that Circe wouldn't have access to something like this."

"Well, that might have something to do with her past allegiances to Neron," Wonder Woman replied, the Justice Leaguer saying what had already come to The Black Dog's mind. "It may have been just another step in some plan to endanger Themyscira by getting me out of the way. I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire."

"Eh, no worries, madam." Lloyd replied, the younger warrior raising his eyebrows at the showing of concern even as his supernatural senses picked up something amiss within the hellish landscape. "I may not hold a candle to Themyscira's warrior princess but I'm suspectin' that I'll still be viewed as a tasty treat."

The earth below had begun to rumble in discontent but Diana had discerned the troubles well before either that or the moment before when Lloyd had subtly clued her in. Lowering herself into a simple defensive posture that her mother had taught her in childhood, Wonder Woman remained cautious as fissures began to form around her. Noisy seconds passed as a variety of decrepit, horrifying creatures crawled through the apertures, husks of formerly brawny beasts and once glorious warrior women made wretched and deformed by years spent being clawed apart both by the body and the soul. Diana continued to look around and about her even as Lloyd had been distracted by something in the sky, the experienced warrior counting at least five dozen wraiths all shambling forth to greet them.

"Lucavi," Wonder Woman growled through furiously clenched teeth. "These are the shells that are sent to Tarturus and left behind while their tormentors punish the separated soul."

"Yeah, got the pamphlet on that too," Lloyd replied while keeping his eyes to the sky. "Don't suppose that the woman who twisted off Maxwell Lord's neck like a bottle cap would have too much issue with this kind of sacrilege?"

Having always been more comfortable with actions rather than words when it came to the battlefield, Wonder Woman had no qualms with pulling the _Kikuichi-monji _free from the scabbard strapped to Lloyd's back. Letting out a grim smile as the supernatural energy within the katana began to flow through her hands and wrists, she met her first pair of opponents with a spinning slash that tore the soulless husks apart as if the blade was tearing through the wind itself. Claiming five more victims before the zombies seemed to acquire a greater sense of urgency, the raven-haired goddess of warfare escalated her pace along with her opponents until she appeared to be nothing more than a force of nature.

"I don't bow to any living creature and that philosophy doesn't change if something is dead and gone," Wonder Woman roared back even while surrounded by at least twenty opponents now eager to rip her limb-from-limb. "If those who have passed on don't wish to rest then I'll just give them another reason to do so."

Finding no reason to argue with that, Lloyd surged forward in order to better bridge the gap of work volume between him and his determined colleague. Gripping the _Mugalshir _within the steady strength of his left hand, the half-demon steered himself about the lifeless traffic and making space with nearly every lash of his gleaming, silver saber. The decayed Amazons and shells of lesser demons that began to fall by the wayside were soon replaced by monstrosities that needed a bit more time to climb through the cracks created by whatever foul magic that was at work. Mythological beasts and demonic entities ranging from spiny-faced Brachen demons to the fearsomely violent Fyarls surrounded the duo in order to wage war, the servants of the flesh eager to supply in numbers with what they couldn't provide in power. As the slick, black blood began to stain his once pristine suit, Lloyd eventually found himself with his back facing Diana's as he unconsciously sought protection for his rear that not even his demonic parasite could provide.

"Yeah, you can borrow my sword by the way!" Lloyd barked back over his shoulder.

"What in Hera's name do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know," Lloyd couldn't help but admit as he decapitated a Fyarl even while his dozens of other opponents continued to surround them. "Got a couple hundred undead playmates wanting to rip into my flesh, lots of nooks and crannies that they can all just pop out of or above. I just see this in the movies every now and again and I thought I'd give it a try."

"Well, given what I gathered from what Batman said you were capable of, I think you would be better off in the sky taking on what will be coming at us in a moment!" Diana hollered back, her own expensive attire now just as sullied as Lloyd's. Then, remembering her training in her role as an emissary, she added, "I'd do it myself but I'm having far too much fun here on the ground."

"_Oh, I like her, my teishu," _The Condemner reported as his host followed orders and took to the sky. "_She is a skilled tactician, stalwart on the battlefield, and a proud ambassador of her people to boot. If only to satisfy my own curiosities, perhaps you would be interesting in revoking your pledge of monotony and engaging in a physical courtship with her?"_

"_No_," Lloyd quickly replied, his tone flat and unforgiving even from the standards of the telepathic link. Encumbered as he was with deflecting the blistering streams of hellfire spit from the maws of some very familiar creatures, The Black Dog still wanted to make certain that he hammered home his point. _"I am a one woman man, particularly when said woman is more than capable of dropping a mountain range on us. I thought we had made that clear with Morrigan. . . and Donna Troy. . . and that particularly shiny Luxitian who helped me and Vincent clear up one of Mao's trade routes around Fortuna when I was 13. . . and Bruce Wayne. . ."_

Za'hafal-nesh the Condemner let out a hearty chuckle that cut Lloyd's explanation off at the pass. _"Yet another reason why you humans are so fun to watch. The most loyal of your kind stick to their tasks in an attempt to keep the entirety running smoothly even while the wretches fornicate and spawn out of a need for comfort and satisfaction and giddily gum up the works. Given such an ineffective system of procreation, it's a wonder how the lot of you have managed to sustain for as long as you have."_

"_Well, the factory may produce the occasionally shitty product but I'm still gonna make sure the line keeps runnin'," _Lloyd resolutely replied as he continued to dive deeper into the sea of Emerald and Crimson Regids that attempted to either slice into him with their razor-sharp wings or char his skin with wickedly hot jets of hellfire. _"Just considering myself more of a supervisor these days, yeah? All I've got to do is see that something's wrong, figure out where it's coming from. . ._"

The Black Dog felt the familiar signature of supernatural energy a half-second too late. Spinning around and stiffening up in order to lessen the impact, he felt ribs snapping and his heart reeling in a lurch when Sabbac slammed his fists into his torso at nearly 500 miles an hour.

"_Then I change things for the better," _his mind managed to loosely reply even as his body plunged towards the mountains below.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, let me see if I have this whole DC reboot thing straight. We started off with _Flashpoint_, a series whose tagline was something along the lines that this was where everything was going to change (I should go look and make certain but I now care far too little to make the effort). In the months that followed, our local comic book stores were deluged with one-shots and crossovers that described a vastly different world than the one we had been presented with the last time DiDio and The Funky Bunch decided to reboot their universe (That was about four years ago, right? Again, I'd go check but. . .).

And what an intriguingly different world it was! Thomas Wayne fighting the good fight as Batman to avenge the death of his wife and young son! Aquaman and Wonder Woman engaging in global warfare that ravaged the globe and endangered the lives of billions! Cyborg serving proudly as America's greatest hero! Deathstroke dallying about as a phenomenally stupid-looking pirate! The stories unfolded over the course of five months and, when all was said and done, could we ever deny that everything had changed?

Well, yeah, we all could. Nothing changed and now we are rebooting DC for either the third or fourth time in 15 years. Again, I would go check to make sure but I've got more important things to worry about these days than the comic book industry trying to jingle keys in front of my face.

* * *

_Issue #130 Preview_

Well, we're two-thirds of the way into this standard six-issue arc and it just seems like there's still so much more that has to be done, doesn't it? I mean, we've got Black Dog and Wonder Woman trapped in Tarturus with Sabbac and a whole bunch of decayed playmates, Flash and Green Arrow have their hands full with Circe, and we can't really expect to believe that Helena, Kara, and Roy are just going to be sitting at the Iceberg getting drunk with The Penguin, can we?

Speaking of, what about that whole plan of trying to team up Batman with Huntress? And is Lex Luthor _ever _going to be showing his shiny cranium around here?

Has our somewhat distinguished author completely lost track of the story? Well, then one would suppose that the best way to find out is to drop by again and take in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Warm, Familiar Monstrosities. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	130. Warm, Familiar Monstrosities

Issue #130

Warm, Familiar Monstrosities

_Gotham City – Iceberg Lounge – 11:43 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Whether it was thanks to holding the advantage in a terse debate over matters of morality or the courtesy of dangling a bat-eared vigilante and his fashion-challenged junior partner over a pool of rabid Emperor penguins, Oswald Cobblepot had always been quite content for allowing things to simmer when things were going his way. While one could argue that it often allowed some opportunities for his opponents to retake control, the title-holder of the luxuriant social icon built around him often found the aroma of his accomplishments simply too intoxicating to ignore. Swirling a small mouthful of amber liquid about the base of his goblet, the squat sophisticant made sure to take stock of every hint of disapproval he could draw from his trio of guests before he tilted his head back to polish off his drink. The bitter tang of the aged whiskey burned in his throat reminded him of the delicious memory of roasting a whore by the remains of her silicone-enhanced breasts, the memories of her screams roaring through his ears and providing a glorious song to support the flow of endorphins to his dried throat after the tender muscles had endured the wonderful miseries of seconds ago.

"That's the second time I've caught you lying in as many minutes," Kara said calmly, the youngest of the clustered quartet still sounding bright and cheery. "Of course, this isn't a matter of you doing something illegal because you believe you can get away with it. You want to stay on the level because you're trying to be one of those people you try to entertain on a nightly basis."

As galling as the counter could have been, The Penguin was still in too good of a mood to let it cut him too deeply. "Nothing dulls the taste of a young woman quite like the taint of a juvenile philosopher," he theorized while bouncing back to his undersized feet. "Miss Bertenelli, perhaps you would be so kind to see to the beauty pageant winner before she starts discussing how to end world hunger or enlighten us with the virtues of her favorite color?"

"It's green, in case you were asking. And while I certainly believe that everything you're doing is on the up-and-up, Mister Penguin," Kara continued on, the lively candor now fully immersed within a knowing drawl, "I've looked at the books you keep for yourself and the ones and how they match so nicely to the ones you sent to the IRS and it's fairly clear that you're making far more money here than you did when you were getting sent to Arkham and Blackgate on a biannual basis. Mostly though, I think that you were driven to this because you knew about what might happen if you kept sticking your head out. You knew that some big, mean seal or whale is going to sweep on by and eat you up without a second thought and there's not much dignity or entertainment to be had there."

"Which is why I continue to have contacts with those who have knowledge concerning Gotham's more illicit activities," The Penguin said impatiently. "I've told you this once before."

"Yeah, but now there's a different reason for it, isn't there?" asked Arsenal, his red-and-black bowler hat leaning forward along with the rest of his upper body as he tilted in his seat. "The beast you're looking out for has a name and a face? And knowing who he's going up against, how many times has he come looking for the guy who has managed to keep the big, bad goddamned Batman off his case for longer than anyone? Maybe he's already asked about when you were planning on lending a helping hand?"

Roy had a great deal more questions on the docket and he could see that The Penguin was already grooming his countenance to address them all but that was when a booming sound exploded to the east, the strength of the impact enough to rattle the legs of his chair. Rising to his feet as soon as he could manage it, the former Teen Titan instinctually turned to his left only to discover that Kara had already disappeared. He yelled for The Penguin to stay put even as he moved to sprint out the door, the expert marksman easily remembering the passageways thanks to the paperwork provided by the morning meeting as he sprinted closer and closer to where the sound had come from. Arsenal could just make out the sound of another pair of boots stomping against the luxuriant carpeting beneath his feet, a clear sign that The Huntress was close behind as he used a banister to slide down the staircase before finishing the last twenty yards in a dead sprint that prompted his bowler hat to dislodge itself from the tenuous grip it had on his wild, red hair.

Were he not equipped with the years of experience that came with such matters, Arsenal would have been presented with quite the strange sight indeed. As quick and active as his eyes were, it still seemed that the confused, panicked, or disheveled guests seemed to blinking out of his sight. He had estimated that there were a good 300 people clustered about the dance floor and nearby bar during The Penguin's show and now only several dozen remained. The proportion of them that had managed to get away under their own power was negotiable but the fact remained that those who were still about continued to "disappear" at an impressive rate even while he continued to make his way towards the source of the panic.

Standing nearly nine feet tall and composed of nearly 800 pounds of vastly enhanced titanium and the faintest traces of human flesh on his face, the creature once known as John Corben seemed a bit more befuddled than Roy despite the cyborg's experience in witnessing the bizarre phenomenon going on around him. Still, never one to be perturbed, the former simple factory worker turned murderous automaton manipulated the hydraulic levers around his mouth joints until his cold, silver lips twisted into a dangerous smile.

"I'm here on behalf of Intergang," Metallo couldn't help but mention while raising his arms so that his palms would face the crowd. As he introduced himself, the cold appendages began to shift and twist in form until his hands had been replaced by the barrels of two energy cannons that immediately hummed to life. "As for those of ya who are about to get a hurtin', well, feel free to blame it on your fat pig of a host."

Roy let out a curse as a stream of white heat poured from the cannon substituting as Metallo's left arm, the young father's fingers racing along the compact console of the BMFG even as the blistering wave of heat made its way towards a gaggle of the panicked partygoers. Barely breathing so much of a sigh of relief as a blur of black whisked the innocent bystanders away from the line of fire, he brought his Karbarran energy cannon to bear as the murderous cyborg let loose another blast of fire from his right hand. Opting to avoid the unseemly option of going head-to-head with Corben's explosive display, Roy gritted his teeth as his supernatural firearm continued to fire a stream of sky-blue energy that instantly coalesced into a sheet of ice that came to run a foot thick and ten feet wide by the time Metallo's blast met his own defenses. Letting out a quick breath as his fortification managed to stand firm in the midst of the onslaught, he swerved his head around to examine his surroundings until he found what he was looking for.

"Try and get everybody to the exits, Helena! This may be working for now but this thing only has so much _SHIT!"_

The stern order was turned into a squawk as Metallo easily burst through the wall with a simple shoulder block, the giant's noisy footsteps ringing off the wooden dance floor like a thousand axes striking an oak tree again and again. The gap between the barrier and Roy was covered in an instant by the metallic monster but even that display lost most of its thunder when the blur of black intercepted the display before Metallo could get close enough to smash in Roy's skull. A shower of bright sparks prompted the red-haired marksman to instinctually shield his eyes even while his ears were still rattled by the sound of metal sliding and slicing through the oaken floor and a handful of similarly crafted tables. Upon opening his eyes, he was treated to the sight of Metallo lying on his back like a turtle while Kara casually tossed aside the automaton's left arm.

"Now you've already lost something tonight," the half-Kryptonian coldly informed her downed opponent. "And in the not too distant future, you're going to tell us everything you can about Lex Luthor and what he and Intergang want with Gotham in general and Oswald Cobblepot in particular."

The sound of Corben's laughter somehow reminded Roy of a car being compacted as he watched Metallo roll onto his left side in an almost casual fashion. Already fearing the worst, the young father managed to recognize the tension in Kara's posture before the northern and eastern walls of The Iceberg were smashed in a spray of brick and plaster. The ground continued to shake as the half-dozen of additional automatons slid or dropped to a stop, the duplicates all not quite matching the height and metallic musculature of their predecessor but still proving to be quite enough to convince Arsenal into putting some effort into making certain he didn't piss himself.

"Oh, I don't have much to say," the original Metallo said while easily rising to his feet, his right eye glowing red as if to convey the cyborg's anticipations. "All I'm doing is just taking some of my new buddies out for a night on the town."

* * *

_Tarturus _

The Black Dog was left with more than enough time to get back to his feet as Ishmael Gregor calmly lowered himself down to the surface. His gleaming silver saber still at the ready, the half-demon met the formerly human avatar of Satan, Aym, Beelzebub, Belial, Asmodeus, and Craeatis with what most would consider a withering glare but was met with a response that seemed as if his rejoinder was nothing more than a source of mild amusement.

"Well, aren't we confident of ourselves?" Lloyd noted as the crimson-skinned greater demon stood across from him on some wasted plain of hell. "'Cause I'm seeming to recall that things didn't turn out too well for you the last time you tried to attack me from behind."

"As do I," Sabbac casually replied, the greater demon maintaining his unruffled demeanor as he spread his arms wide and presented his open palms. "And yet here I am," the former lieutenant of Neron added, the thick, Russian accent that had stilled the hearts of some of the most unmerciful mafia members the world over only making the statement sound that much more ingratiating. "You, on the other hand, look to be on the verge of fading away entirely."

The human host of The Condemner refused to be distracted by the baiting and lowered himself so that his knees were bent at a 30-degree angle. His hands were at the waist and the unbreakable force of the _Mugalshir _lingered in front of his chest. It was an off-shoot of the stance adopted by veteran French cavalrymen during the 18th century to be employed upon being dislodged from their horses. Keeping low to the ground, it would allow the soldier to force their British or Dutch antagonists closer to their level where their limited range could be worked in as an advantage. On the other hand, as the unholy, supernatural force within Sabbac's body continued to flow towards his maw and fingertips, it was quite safe to say that the greater demon was more dangerous than any onrushing sword-wielder.

"I consider myself a gentleman, Mister Thomas. Allow me to escort you on your way."

Lloyd managed to deflect the hail of hellfire that served as Sabbac's opening salvo, the point-blank attacks blocked with the skillful manipulation of his stern silver saber. The earth around him began to tremble as he rushed forward to counter, the young leader weaving his way around the bulk of the blistering heat before planting his feet and digging his ankles into the dessicated dirt. He kept his feet still even as his back twisted along with the _Mugalshir _as the blade was swung in a lashing motion that Gregor avoided with a simple act of teleportation. Sensing the greater demon reappearing at his back, The Black Dog employed the momentum gained from his stance to explode into a front somersault that allowed the heels of his feet to slam into Sabbac's chin and send the greater demon into the air right along with him. Employing his demonic-born telekinesis to keep himself airborne, the British half-demon moved to intercept his out-of-control target until the ground beneath him seemed to blow apart to make way for an enormous monstrosity that had tunneled through the earth below.

_An Abyssal Worm_, Lloyd realized even as the hellish creature, a beast at least 70 feet tall and equipped with rows upon rows of dagger-like teeth, attempted to trap him between the outer mandibles of its maw. _The same kind of creature that killed Cecilia and it's in the control of the bastard who nearly killed my sister_.

The Black Dog realized that the ploy was meant to disorient him, make him open to the attack of those who would have had a great difficulty breaking through his defenses. That knowledge became an assurance as another pair of worms burrowed up to meet him, one on either side, the gargantuan scavengers of the husks of the damned letting out visceral screams even as they surged to devour what didn't belong.

"_Are we already having difficulty?" _asked Sabbac, his telepathic inquiry oozing with mockery. _"Or are you distracted with realizing that this is only the beginning of what we will unleash upon those you protect if you continue this pointless rebellion? The battle has not even begun yet already your comrades are holding on to the barest scrap of their lives so what makes you think that you can claim victory over our united legion, much less defend the worthless leeches that you apparently value?"_

"_About three years worth of precedents," _Lloyd shrewdly replied even as his left hand was swathed within a wave of golden energy that punched through the abdomen of the Abyssal worm to his right. _"Not to mention I've got some extra motivation after what you did with Robin. And, given what I did to you when I didn't have any grudge, what makes __**you **__think that you're going to fare any better now that I have an axe to grind."_

"_About three years worth of precedents, I imagine," _Sabbac coolly countered as another pair of Abyssal worms rose to take the place of their fallen brethren. _"I will admit to not having as much experience with the unique synthesis of human and demon as you, tovarisch. However, I __**do **__know enough to recognize when one of those bonds is breaking and when my own grows stronger by the day."_

The greater demon seemed content with allowing the roars of his gargantuan underlings to present his advantage but those efforts were suddenly cut short by a powerful gust followed by the keening squeal of an Abyssal worm crashing to the ground. It was thanks to his demonically gifted reflexes that he managed to avoid being sliced in two as a gore-slathered Wonder Woman finished her journey towards, through, and away from the trunk of her latest kill. A thin sliver of panic began to emerge as the Amazonian managed to draw blood with a hairline dig into his left shoulder during the encounter to come but the greater demon stuffed it down despite the faraway sight of a barrage of corpses left in the wake of his newfound foe.

"This blade was quite efficient when it came to slicing through your tortured servants, demon," Wonder Woman noted when Sabbac broke from the fray, the once pristine surface of the _Kikuichi-monji _now almost coated in black blood and bits of rotted flesh. "Let's see how well it cuts through you."

* * *

_Themyscira – 8:51 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Green Arrow may not have responded with speed that could match his accomplice but it was still the best he could do and he hoped it was just what The Flash needed. One of Circe's shots had punched through the ground where Wally was only a sliver of a second from getting to and the impact was enough to throw the speedster off his feet and into the unforgiving trunk of an aged oak tree. Of course, that evidence was all left up for Oliver to guess at given the first thing _he _had seen was Circe standing over her dazed and momentarily defenseless opponent and that was enough to convince him to break free from his current fracas and run to the rescue, his free hand already reaching to put an arrow to the string. The shot was flawless, the steel-tipped arrow set to sink through the neck of the immortal enchantress if not for the timely intervention of Circe's eldritch force barrier. Likewise, the 10-inch-long butterfly knife he had pulled from the scabbard strapped to his waist and let fly was only a fingernail length's away from sinking into the back of the witch's skull before that was deflected as well.

"You have long past the point of trying my limited supply of patience, Oliver Queen," Circe replied, her back still turned to the emerald-garbed archer even as one of the surrounding Emerald Regids managed to slice through an inch of Green Arrow's abdomen. Caring little of the fate of the former Justice Leaguer, the red-eyed, exiled Amazonian smirked as she plucked The Flash up by the back of his skull. "Such a sad soul isn't he, Mister West? He knows that I could kill him with a snap of my fingers and yet he still believes he can correct your gravely mistake."

The mystic chill circulating through Circe's elegant fingers had already begun to stifle the flow of blood to The Flash's brain. Within a second, the surrounding bones would become brittle enough to allow the witch to overcome the speedster's constitution and snap his neck as if it were a twig of wet kindling and the dull glow that accompanied Circe's crimson eyes seemed to acknowledge that certainty for Wally if the desperate beating of his heart didn't tell him enough. However, such efforts tended to require a great deal of concentration, so much so that she was a flicker too late herself to fully avoid the damage as a speeding dart soared straight for the center of her skull. Tilting her neck back out of instinct, Wally let out a cough as his ears dimly made out the ripping sound of mystic steel tearing through Circe's lower lip.

"Then perhaps you would be more interested in sterner stuff," remarked Artemis, the goddess of the hunt bearing her canines even as she put another arrow to the string. Realizing that her quarry would still be disoriented by the last several seconds, she waited patiently for the blonde-haired mortal to throw his weight into the back of Circe's knees and smirked as the traitorous witch let out a squawk while she awkwardly tumbled to the ground. Her next arrow was flying before The Flash hit the ground from his awkward tumble, the shot strong enough to allow the attack to punch cleanly through Circe's left wrist with such strength that it cut through the skin, muscle, and bone to the point where the jagged metal emerged cleanly from its target. The goddess thought the act to be a fitting punishment for a traitor who had thought herself worthy of harming an honored guest of Themyscira and she was quite keen to employ the short swords she pulled from the scabbards strapped to her shoulders to mete out another to add on to the sentence.

Ollie wisely ignored Circe's agonized cries as the two immortals began to wage their own warfare, the goateed archer choosing instead to roll back to his feet. Scooping Wally into his unencumbered left arm as he stretched upward, the veteran ran as fast as the wound in his gut would allow in order to get his still woozy colleague out of the line of fire. However, it quickly became clear that some of his fellow participants on the battlefield disagreed with the notion as a dual-headed, lion-like beast rushed forward to meet him, the creature's heavy footsteps keeping in stride with the two Emerald Regids that glided just several feet above. Wondering how he was even going to start figuring out how to survive the predicament, the champion of Star City was left to breathe a sigh of relief as the trio of opponents were suddenly caught under a hail of arrows that convinced the demons to stumble to the ground in a bloody heap.

"'Bout damn time," Green Arrow thought to mutter as a horde of warrior women scrambled over the forested knolls to the east. They were dozens in number and each of them appeared to have taken the time to arm themselves with what they could carry from the surrounding military depots that were still under investigation. Some of them were adorned with sterling battle armor and wielding wickedly sharp swords while others were armed with anything from Thangaarian laser rifles to the simple bows and arrows that had just been put to use by Artemis's well-trained archers. Of course, the differences in choice of armaments were obvious but no less so than the conjoined vigor with which the 60 or so Amazonians charged into the fray, their past years of training and warfare against everything from Darkseid's Parademons to Neron's monstrosities to even The Sinestro Corps having transformed them into a stunning but startling sight to behold.

"I'm beginning to think that somebody just decided to project the dreams I had when I was 12," Ollie couldn't help but note as he placed The Flash back down on the ground. Then, shaking the alluring distractions away as quickly as he could, the archer quickly retrieved his bow and mentally counted the number of remaining arrows by judging the weight of his quiver. Bringing down a Crimson Regid with a fire-extinguisher arrow delivered straight into its open maw, he nearly startled as he felt a hand briefly slide up his right leg before snatching something from his belt.

"You'll poke your eye out with that thing, kid!" the fair-haired archer yelled to the gentleman quickly returning to his feet. "Hell! You even know how to use that thing?"

Although often regarded for his quick wit, Wally quickly proved that he was possessed of far faster feet as he rushed to intercept a Crimson Regid zooming downward in a graceful arc. The stolen butterfly knife held sideways in his left knuckle, The Flash leapt at an angle that allowed him to run the short blade through the right wing of the gargoyle-like fire breather. Leaving his bloodied opponent to crash into a stand of cedars, The Fastest Man Alive soon shifted his attention to a hydra rumbling its way through a short clearing amidst the forest.

"Seems pretty simple to me," The Fastest Man Alive replied before donating a portion of his speed to the task of whirling about the multi-headed water beast. Digging and slicing into sternly shelled necks as he rushed around and about, he succeeded in removing each of the five heads that his opponent was sporting before any of them had the opportunity to grow back double. Drawing his kinetically-spawned lightning to bear, The Flash then employed the fractions of a second he had remaining to direct a decent portion of the violent sparks to ignite the bleeding stumps he had left behind until the hydra was left to burn throughout the rest of its painful existence. "Pointy end goes in the fleshy end, right?"

As tempted as he was to launch into an explanation about the proper appreciation of fine weaponry (he was a professional, after all), Green Arrow suddenly found himself distracted by the notion that the animals and creatures that had apparently sided with Circe in this encounter had started to back away. A call to give chase was launched by one of Artemis's lieutenants but the troops could only begin their strides before the goddess denied the request and it didn't take much longer than that for Ollie to be certain on the reason why. Following the trail of retreating opponents, the archer brought his sights to a clearing to the east where an assemblage of Amazons stood waiting in the wings. Larger and far better armed than the haphazardly assembled collage of warriors that had come to them in their time of need, the collection of several hundred warrior women looked armed to the teeth and prepared for a purpose crafted long before the battle began. The guess became a reality as Circe, having broken away from her fruitless combat with her supremely skilled opponent, appeared at the front of the impressive line of warriors. She remained still as the proud warriors did nothing to stop her even as the witch's regiment was further bolstered by the mythological and mystic creations that joined them in the moments after.

"We've long acquired what we came here to claim," Circe said knowingly, her blood-stained arms raised in a gesture of knowing superiority. "Know this, warriors of Themyscira. Your instructors and their archaic gods have settled on their alliances for far too long. Those with the wisdom to see reason have already joined my ranks yet there is still room for more. Feel free to remember that as Artemis and Diana ask you to battle these warriors of justice and your sisters-in-arms."

Green Arrow managed to maintain his serene countenance as Circe's army faded from sight, his calm demeanor a necessarily stark contrast from the forced silence and unwilling confusion that remained behind in the battle's wake.

* * *

"_For the last time no_!" Lloyd exclaimed as an Abyssal Worm came a meter or so away from chomping down on a good-sized portion of his right leg. _"What part of 'total control over the mind and the borrowed soul' did you not comprehend?"_

"_This isn't a matter of dominion, my teishu_," Za'hafal-nesh patiently replied while his human host brought down another of their massive foes with a flawlessly-formed force bolt. _"Well, I suppose it is but just not in the matter that you seem to have such an issue with. Just as you employ the vigor and supernatural wisdom that I have gathered over the course of the ages, I merely believe that you should follow the guidance I may provide in the present. A physical accord with this 'Wonder Woman', as ridiculous of an epithet as that may be, would not only provide substantial satisfaction but also endow a significant boost in relations between your comrades and the mightiest army walking the planet. And, if anything else, the offspring produced between a comingling of two creatures empowered by such powerful entities would provide. . ."_

"_No! NO! Nonononononono!" _beseeched Lloyd as he zigged and zagged his way a veritable wall of stern flesh and sharp jaws in his flythrough of the opponents that remained. _"There will be no infidelities, no physical accords, no potential creation of a master race, and definitely no more attempts to dodge the question I was about to ask before this scrape got nasty." _The Black Dog was already on quite a roll and not even the ear-breaking sound of two Abyssal Worms colliding into each other did little to curb his momentum. "_When I asked Hephaestus about the possibility of Vincent preserving himself inside the Kikuichi-monji he said that you already had the answer. Now I want to know what that answer is and why you tried to keep it from me in the first place."_

"_Hephaestus was merely being hasty with his presumptions," _The Condemner explained as his host went face-to-esophagus with another rising monstrosity. _"What I possess is not a solution but a possibility. And, while this prospect has the possibility of enabling us to draw closer to what you wish to know, the fact remains. . ."_

"_Blah blah blah," _Lloyd interrupted even while soaring upward into the maw of the Abyssal Worm that had been attempting to swallow him whole before the half-demon chose to press the issue. _"I came here expecting to speak to the god of the forge with a question about one of his greatest creations. You didn't object to it or even bother to mention that I might have been barking up the wrong tree. Hephaestus had to tell me that!" _Several seconds spent within the inner recesses of the hell-spawned monster around him had been enough to allow enough of an opportunity for the surrounding concoction of blood toxins and stomach acids to burn into The Black Dog's flesh and ruin whatever vestiges that remained of the nice suit that Alfred had bought for him. _"Don't even begin to think that I'm the same power-hungry child that Lugae forced you upon, Za'hafal-nesh. The fear of death is a small pain to endure if I have to risk endangering the people I care for."_

The Condemner found himself without words as Lloyd channeled a portion of the energy bequeathed to him. Tossing over his own thoughts, the longtime demonic overseer of humanity did nothing as his other half surged forward with the gleaming tip of the _Mugalshir _at the forefront. There was enough speed behind Lloyd's travel to easily push through the 15 feet of steel-hard skin and spiny scales as they emerged from the literal belly of the beast, the liberal supply of charged energy left behind leaving the Abyssal worm to burn apart from the inside out.

"_And that forthrightness is something that can be appreciated, my teishu, particularly when you have the thirst for intellect that lies within the creature I wish to truly seek out."_

* * *

_Gotham – The Iceberg Lounge – 11:47 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"MY CLUB!"

Helena Bertenelli pondered over asking why The Heavenly Father seemed to be so eager to plague her life with situations such as these even as she rushed to the source of the anguished exclamation. The sound of machine gun fire searing through her ears, the elegantly attired vigilante leapt to her left and planted her feet onto the top of a chair before hopping to the nearby table and then launching herself with enough force to tackle Oswald Cobblepot to the ground in a manner that forced the both of them to crash and roll until they were both safe within whatever decidedly dicey protection the bar counter could offer. Taking a brief moment to note the half-dozen or so bar patrons that had also looked for refuge here, she ignored the protests of her portly rescue victim while risking a peek over the bar to discover what had quickly become a hectic warzone. Momentarily distracted by a series of surrounding tremors, she looked to her right to find a large column of earth rising through what had once been a portion of the V.I.P. seating area. Some of the jagged tips at the apex of the rock formation had managed to dig into the android that was rising along with it but the real damage came when the earth crashed into the heavy brick roof above, the added pressure enough to bring about some lasting damage to the creation within its grasp and compounding it as the Metallo was left to crash back down moments later.

"All right, that should do it!" shouted Arsenal, the sharpshooter lowering the barrel of his energy pistol back down to a space of ground about ten feet in front of him. Recognizing that the right-side console of the BMFG was still presenting a consistently strong yellow light, Roy felt no reservations with pulling the trigger and letting loose a barrage of seismic waves that sent a distinct message to the fault lines of Gotham that had been blessedly dormant since the days of their No Man's Land. The cause-and-effect provided the arrival of another wave of solid earth that rose just meters from Roy's feet and continued to spread higher and outward until it was 15-feet-high and just long enough for it to stretch past both the bar and the southern edge of the dance hall. "Get Pengy and the rest of them out of here, Helena! We'll do what we can until more help can show up!"

"No! NO! You do not have the distinction to wield that disgusting desgination!" squawked a voice that somehow managed to carry over the havoc and reach Roy's ears. "I will expect full compensation for this travesty! You will hear from my attorneys!"

The former junior partner of Oliver Queen couldn't help but chuckle as he caught the sight of Helena dragging a belligerent Oswald Cobblepot away from the warzone from the corner of his left eye. The awkward four-legged race was soon being left behind by the handful of others that raced for safety at the same time but it was proved to be a trifling manner as he recognized another bizarre but familiar sound. Turning back to fully face the battlefield, Arsenal was privileged to see a pair of metallic murderers punching their way through his earthen barrier. His fingers stilled and his nerves calmed by a lifetime of these kinds of situations, Roy nimbly pressed another button on the BMFG's console before aiming and then skewering one of his newfound opponents with a foot-thick javelin of ice. As his target flew off his feet and onto his back from the impact, Roy wisely skittered out of the way before the flamethrower-like blast from his other opponent could incinerate him where he stood.

Though the large, stone column he managed to hide behind didn't offer much in the ways of long-term relief, it at least provided a safe vantage point when his life suddenly flashed before his eyes. The source, of course, was the blur of black that hurtled past him just a couple of feet above his head on her way to crashing against his choice of cover before barreling through the bar and into the shambled liquor cabinets behind it.

"_Fuck _me!" Arsenal exclaimed, the elder of the two available Misfits frighteningly more dismayed by what had happened rather than what very well could have. "You all right, Kare Bear?"

The worried inquiry Roy had made through the team's comm. link was quickly answered as the android that had previously attempted to char the red-haired sharpshooter to a cinder was sent down to the ground hard with a lightning-fast armbar takedown. Guessing that the situation was under control, Arsenal searched for his next opponent until Kara appeared at his side, the half-Kryptonian still looking quite hale and hearty.

_And more appropriately dressed_, Arsenal noted upon realizing that his colleague had taken the time to get to a safe house in order to fetch a more fitting array of battle garments. Briefly admiring the altered battle armor that Lucius Fox had once made for one Richard Grayson, Roy wisely tried to avoid the irony with a quick nod as Kara shot him an apologetic look before the both of them continued about their business. Not having the time or the interest to ask about the circumstances that nearly led Kara to accidentally transforming him into a broken smear across the floor, Roy fired a stream of chilled air from the BMFG that enveloped the nearest opponent in an attempt to slow the rampaging machine down until the frontline was ready to mop things up.

Speaking of which, Kara had finally managed to shake off the lingering bits of trauma brought about by the wicked double-handed haymaker that had landed against the left side of her skull and repaid the attacker in kind by trapping her far taller opponent into a front face lock. Lifting the taller and far heftier opponent until the android's torso was draped over her back, she then allowed gravity and her own superior strength to do its damage by dropping the Metallo down face first while staying on her feet. There was enough force behind the takedown to snap the robot's sternum with an audible _crack _but The Last Daughter of Krypton was in no mood to ease the pain of Luthor's soldier as she followed it up by leaping into the air and coming down with a plunging stomp that severed the android in two. A brief consideration over the rising property damage suddenly came to her mind as she zipped over to the ice-encrusted android she had chosen for her next dance partner.

Kara knew that she couldn't even begin to recognize the human behind the machine as she ripped away her opponent's damaged left arm before using the appendage to knock the Metallo to the ground. Judging from the concise attacking pattern and the efficient manner in which they attempted to follow the orders of their apparent leader, she had begun to guess that the new creations were some more former soldiers that had been lured to Luthor's side by the promises of the past and that only served to piss her off more.

She managed to contain herself and keep the battles up close so she could have a better chance at cutting off the opportunity for more havoc and confusion but the anger she employed to keep her discipline in place put her mind to thinking. Were these just hapless pawns that Luthor and his ilk had placed under their control? Was she being pressed to harm innocent people merely because some grandiose-thinking human decided that it was his way or nothing at all? Or was it something a bit worse than that? Had these people brought themselves to a point in their lives where the idea of transforming into a monster like Corben seemed like the right thing to do?

_Most of these people probably became soldiers because they had something they wanted to protect_, she felt herself assuming even as she twisted her way around a pair of plasma cannon shots fired by one of her more recently arrived opponents. _They're people who got twisted around into fighting for an ideal that somebody else came up with. They say nothing as their superiors tell them to risk the lives of innocent people just to get to the handful of people they're interested in._

_So what makes them different from me? _Kara couldn't help but think as she punched through the power core of the man turned machine. She could feel the sizzle of the kryptonite against her right knuckle and winced at the mild nausea and disorientation but managed to push her way through it as she tossed aside her mortally wounded foe. Perhaps it was the distraction of her contemplations or the fatigue incurred through several lucky shots and just as many doses of kryptonite poisoning that she finally became distracted to the point where Corben and two of the remaining five Metallo copies were able to gang tackle her until they could push her through the western wall of the lounge and into the hastily emptied streets.

This, inevitably, left Roy Harper with a trio of somewhat damaged, partially underpowered but still dangerous duplicates of one of Superman's most persistent enemies. There was some odd permutation of a hiatus as the quartet of remaining battlefield participants seemed to recognize this fact before each of them snapped back to their accorded roles. As the androids leveled their sights (and their cannons) upon their shared antagonist, Arsenal took the moment to scrabble his fingers across the BMFG's elemental console while fighting back his instinctual urge to swallow his Adam's apple.

"Um, can I point out that this isn't very sporting?" asked Roy as he began to slowly back away from the fray. "I mean, I can just _hand _over The Penguin to you guys," he shouted even as he scrambled for his life from the blistering heat of the energy cannons. "'Cause, hey, it's not like he's ever really wowed me as a stand-up citizen."

"_KREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

_Music to my ears_, Roy couldn't help but think even as he struggled through a pain that felt like his eardrums were just about ready to sink back into his brain and explode. Keeping himself together thanks to the wisdom of numerous past occasions, Arsenal pointed the barrel of the BMFG at the feet of one of the distracted androids. Noting the persistent, yellow gleam along the console of his Karbarran energy cannon, the Misfit gritted his teeth as his gun let loose an array of seismic waves that convinced the earth beneath his opponent's feet to rise up in a fashion where jagged shards of earth would wind and scratch against and around the robot's durable frame. Diving to his right to avoid the blistering heat of another burst of superheated plasma, Arsenal adjusted the output to his gun on the fly and followed up his first attack with a stream of electrical energy that weaved its way through the slight apertures that pockmarked the body of his ensnared foe.

"You cut that _WAY _too close!" Arsenal hollered as he continued to search for cover after transforming his latest opponent into a nonfunctional, smoking heap. "Damn it, it's not like I'm going to be coming back to life if I get barbequed. I didn't get that in my benefits package!"

"Oh, keep your pants on for once," suggested the voice on the other end of the comm. link, the tone projected by one Barbara Gordon sounding a titch cheerier than what would have been expected of such a professional. "It took a bit more time than I was expecting to get the JLA teleporters back in touch with Gotham airspace. Okay, people! With K out of the picture that makes Arsenal the big gun. Keep on distracting the other shock troopers so that he can work up a good shot."

Harried as he was by the task of avoiding the violent rampage of one of the two Metallo duplicates that remained, Roy couldn't help but be a little shocked by the latest orders. Looking to his left as he fired another jagged javelin of ice at his pursuer, he was able to realize that both Black Canary _and _Batman had arrived to lend a helping hand.

"Waitaminute wait a minute. . . _I'M _the big gun?" Roy yelled back, his tone sounding caught between a deep state of shock and a burgeoning case of glee. "Can't I keep on being the pointy stick? Or a cudgel? I like cudgels." Then, regaining his wits about him he added, "Um, is there a reason that the one that was going after me is suddenly really interested in whatever is going on at the eastern wall?"

Tensely observing the battlefield from the safety and comfort of Kord Tower, Oracle was usually not at all comfortable with allowing the events to come to speak for themselves. On the other hand, she knew enough about the instigator to realize there wasn't much that she could have done to stop what she knew was coming. She could only watch from the few handful of surviving surveillance cameras as a figure completed their journey from a rip cord attached to the emptied gun port of a hovering aircraft. The red-headed computer expert kept her eyes glued to the collection of screens as the temperamental soldier employed the remains of the eastern wall of the lounge as cover while preparing her choice of weaponry. Once satisfied with the weight distribution, the battlefield veteran waited for the gunfire to calm down before swinging to her left and introducing herself while sporting a rocket launcher on her shoulder that looked nearly as big as she was.

"HAWKAAAAAAAA!"

The echoic ricochets of the infamous battle cry were drowned out by the rowdy explosion of the HE rocket springing from the launcher's spacious barrel. The cramped confines of the theater of war prompted some of the rubble to be blown to either side in the wake of the blast but also left little room for the target to dodge and thus the Metallo duplicate was sent spinning like a top from the impact and explosion along its left shoulder. Keen as he was with the possibility of landing a finishing blow, Roy made no effort to give greeting or thanks but Zinda Blake's current temperament would have made any attempt he made a wasted endeavor. As Roy put the android down for the count with a pulse consisting of the rest of the stored electrical energy within the BMFG, the markswoman and pilot extraordinaire known to her comrades as Lady Blackhawk was already returning to her PX-47 attack helicopter while continuing to gripe about the damage done to "her baby".

"It would seem that Miss Blackhawk has some issues with others endangering the safety of her work devices," another voice said quite succinctly in the wake of Zinda's arrival and departure. "My apologies for the tardiness, Arsenal, but I'm afraid that some matters in Themyscira kept me distracted enough to allow Oracle to piggyback upon my communication network."

"And it's much appreciated, Calculator," Oracle replied, the female hacker's tones calm and unfettered. "Good job on getting everybody out safely, everyone. K seems safe enough with her end so all that's left is to leave at least one of these things in working order."

"Quite so," the elder of the bespectacled tech experts concurred from the safety of the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor. "Given what information that's already been given about these copies, I would be eager to search into any clues concerning where Luthor acquired the resources to create such durable but disposable minions."

Finding no reason to argue the reasonable interjections, Roy took the next few seconds to look for anything that might have been out of the ordinary. Finding it at the southern edge of the battlefield, he dashed toward the focal point of his unease and soon his quick steps and effortless leaps brought the 20-foot gap between he and his target down to nothing.

"Hey! You didn't accidentally install an off switch onto that slinky dress, did ya? Come on, let's get in the game here!"

If Helena wasn't already paying close attention to what was going on then the unintentionally vulgar comments certainly did the trick. Firing a cautionary glare at the young father, the usually hot-blooded Italian American quickly turned her green eyes back to what she had been looking at and continued watching in silence. The gesture was performed with all the stubborn demeanor of an annoyed child momentarily distracted away from their favorite television show and the juxtaposition between reaction and source was ultimately enough to compel Arsenal to follow the eyes of The Huntress.

Their audience now fully drawn to them, Bruce Wayne and Dinah Laurel Lance continued to display the skill and instinct that had kept the both of them alive for decades spent dealing with monstrosities that could have struck them down with a snap of their fingers. The Metallo duplicate was another of these powerhouses but the hardened military veteran turned cyborg was soon to discover that the challenge in fighting The Batman and Black Canary was not in overpowering them but in finding a way to employ that power properly. The few vestiges that remained of the soldier's face continued to knot in frustration as The Dark Knight of Gotham City continued to evade his earth-shattering strikes, the vigilante continuing to display agility that just shouldn't have belonged to a 210-pound man wearing nearly 40 pounds worth of the sturdiest body armor that money could buy. The Black Canary, on the other hand, didn't even go through the trouble of presenting herself as a viable target as she allowed her larger comrade to be the bait while she set herself to the task of disorienting their opponent to the point where their foe had little hope of hitting anything. The slight distractions were the equivalent of the quick jabs at the start of a boxing match, the clashing of front-line troops before artillery or riskier military ventures were sent to follow-up and it didn't matter if the former military man was aware of the trap because the simple matter remained that he had been caught in the web from the beginning.

The Black Canary responded to Batman's quick nod and unleashed a cry that seemed to well up from the very bottom of her lungs before exploding through her throat. The stored up burst of sonic energy struck soundly against the cyborg's right leg and while it wasn't enough to punch a hole through the solid frame or even enough to bring the machine down it only took a zip-line and a mighty pull from Batman's bulging arms to force the stumbling powerhouse down onto his massive back. The batarang was in the air before Dinah had finished moving but the first female Justice Leaguer deftly snared the weapon between her fingers as she leaped onto the Metallo's chest. Taking the bladed weapon in both hands, she jammed the metal point of the projectile into the slight gap where the cyborg's left arm met his shoulder blade. It took several attempts to wedge it in as deep as she wanted it but Dinah grit her teeth, devoted herself to the task, and got it done before leaping away. If anything else, the sight of 40,000 volts pulsing through the inner workings of her robotic foe provided a deep sense of satisfaction as she rose back to her full height from the standing backward somersault she had employed to get free from the still active but currently inert military machine.

"Damn," Helena and Roy said together.

* * *

Sabbac let out a fierce roar as the heated physical exchange reached yet another impasse, the black blood slipping from the surface cuts along his cheek and torso only augmenting the crimson glow that suffused his body. As intimidating as the sight may have been, the fearsome exclamation did little more than bring a slow smirk onto the blood-stained face of his opponent.

"You should have made a better choice when it came to what you wished to do as you drew your last breath," noted the greater demon, his narrow, tawny eyes glimmering. "The gods I worship reward me with greater power by the day while your pretenders do nothing as they watch your countrywomen threaten to tear your home apart. The half-blood you fight alongside will wither and die in a comparative blink of an eye but you don't have to share his fate. Depart now if you want to avoid losing everything you've ever held dear."

There wasn't a smidgen of trepidation in Wonder Woman's mannerisms as she brought the _Kikuichi-monji _close enough to her chest so that the mystic metal was only a millimeter from brushing against her breastplate. "Abandoning a fight would be no better than what you threaten, demon," she replied, her candor firm even as her lush lips were brightened by a saucy smirk. "Not to mention that I'm getting more and more interested about just what you have against the young Mister Thomas. I mean, the mere thought of an ancient greater demon being envious of a half-blood that's only a handful of years into his manhood. It leaves one to wonder, Ishmael Gregor."

"This is not envy!" Sabbac roared, the mention of his name as a mortal further empowering a mouthful of hellfire that Wonder Woman narrowly avoided. "That boy took advantage of my momentary weakness. First he attacked me before I could maintain a true grasp of the majesty at my disposal. . ."

"Ah, yes. That whole little business with the Society from several years back," Wonder Woman loosely interjected. "I should mention that those 'do-nothing pretenders' you just mentioned all had quite the laugh when they heard that a 19-year-old half-blood only needed a handful of seconds to hand out such a humiliating defeat to the avatar of supposedly eternal greater demons."

The greater demon attacked again, faster this time, and Diana did not possess enough bravado to pretend that she was quickly on the losing end of the exchange. Enduring the rain of jabs and hooks to her face and shoulders, she finally managed to bring her wrists to her face and used her bracelets to deflect a handful of blows in order to make room for a two-handed sideways lash that forced Sabbac to scoot backwards to avoid a dangerous wound.

"You may mock me until I mercifully end your life but I will see the boy and his lover dead. It may be my final efforts on the canvas of my hellish existence but I will make their suffering my masterpiece." Diana provided an enthusiastic rejoinder as she leapt forward and slashed at the sneer of the greater demon with an overhand slash but Sabbac managed to easily whirl around and appear at the Amazon's back. "The way I broiled alive the Lantern brat was just a matter of selecting the right canvas and the colors will be provided by the blood and bile of your sisters."

Wonder Woman's eyes blazed with anger but yet they couldn't burn quite as hot as the reddish-black pulse of hellfire that Sabbac had literally spat her way. Instinctually employing her borrowed katana like a blunt instrument, the Amazon shifted to her left and batted the supernatural sphere back at its creator. The fraction of a second it took for Diana to register the fact that the greater demon had merely absorbed the energy thrown at him cost Themyscira's champion dearly as Sabbac lashed the claws of his right hand against her left wrist, the tearing of tendons and spurt of blood cajoling the _Kikuichi-monji _into slipping from her grasp. In a flash the greater demon had retrieved the mystic blade before teleporting a good half of a mile away while leaving the Justice Leaguer surrounded by the demonic symbol that had enabled her opponent to weave together the supernatural command.

"And I suppose that this will serve as my brush," Gregor then noted, his words far from reaching Wonder Woman even as she rushed to go after her. "I believe our work is done here. Feel free to see yourselves out."

"NO!" Wonder Women screamed, her frustration muffled as she violently crashed to the ground after passing through the optical vestiges that Sabbac had left behind upon vanishing away. The pain of the collision was nothing but an afterthought in the wake of the anger she felt at herself at falling for such a simple trap and the fact that she felt herself fading away as well did nothing to help. "NO! NOT NOW!"

Diana could still feel her heart racing even as Artemis clamped her firm hands over her shoulders. As her old friend attempted to steady her, the blistering flame of Diana's warrior's spirit spurned her heart to quicken as she looked desperately at the goddess of the hunt.

"Damn it! Why then!" she shouted. Then, recognizing the scent of blood she picked out the black-haired man that she had failed and the guilt stiffly struck her once again. "Why did you bring us back? They got exactly what they wanted and it's my fault."

"Fault is rarely an issue when it is a matter as simple as turning a page," replied a wiser voice that either blood-stained champion could provide. It was enough to convince both Diana and Lloyd to look forward and thus jointly catch the site of the figure that had served as their rescuer. "Our mutual enemies may have gained more than they lost this day but that discrepancy only guarantees that there will be a differing result the next time that forces clash."

Artemis shifted her sights from one old comrade to the other, the huntress's confusion and anger rising with each twist of her neck. In response, her sister took a moment to placate the lingering anger of her millennia-old comrade before moving her interests to her true destination.

"Greetings, Za'hafal-nesh. I've been told that you've been looking for me."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

All right, lads and lasses! It looks like it's time for another economics lesson courtesy of Professor Matt the Batman Fan! Is everybody primed for some learning. . . HEY! Don't you close this application, young man or woman! Or, if you're going to, at least be kind enough to leave a review saying how I shouldn't be attempting to indulge in the joys of being an instructor at the expense of my dozens and dozens of readers.

Anyway, the topic of concern today is opportunity cost. In the parlance of trade and industry, this refers to the amount of time, energy and motivation necessary to complete a task as it is relative to what or how you expect to benefit from said task. Now imagine yourself as a large corporation within an industry that is the virtual definition of a fringe element of popular culture. Seeking to increase sales, you ponder over how to better distribute your products which have a long-standing history of drawing a clientele of highly devoted men and women who have frequently fallen into your sphere of influence through the allure provided by the decades-long legacy of your total body of work. Your solution, of course, is to refurbish these products in a manner that allows you to package the products as "new" and "fresh" while maintaining the same physical elements. However, rather than taking the energy to eliminate elements that have the potential to continue drawing in established readers and then expanding that base through word-of-mouth (something that some people would consider to be a must in this kind of fringe industry), you choose to eliminate many of the traditional elements that alienate your most frequent buyers while simultaneously confusing the prospective new base of customers that you wished to draw towards you in the first place.

We'd like to thank you for donating your time and capital to the good men and women here at DC University. And remember, until Starfire stops being a slut who can't remember the names of what used to be her dearest friends, the JLA no longer consists of a bunch of angsty 20-somethings and when young female characters in my campus's comic books have a shard of decency to them, make mine Marvel!

* * *

_Issue #131 Preview_

All right, this is some old bullllllshit! It's the conclusion of the arc and there's been no sighting of Lex Luthor and no conversation between Batman and Huntress! Of course, some of the more cynical readers out there may take that to mean that these burgeoning confrontations may get some airtime in the pivotal paragraphs to come but who am I to say whether or not that will be true. The only way to find out, in fact, is to tune in next time for the next installment of _The Misfits: _Triplicate Deliberations. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	131. Triplicate Deliberations

Issue #131

Triplicate Deliberations

_Gotham City – 12:01 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Over three years of rigorous training and mostly successful encounters against some of the greatest fighters throughout the cosmos had allowed Kara Zor-el to become quite good at what she did. Her many victories and defeats offered the opportunity to hypothesize, experiment, and learn from the results and, like most determined scientists, there was always a sliver of her thoughts that she devoted to the task of realizing when things were going a bit too well. She had taken her fair share of punishing shots and debilitating doses of kryptonite poisoning but she had continued to stand tall and keep the fight in close to prevent additional damages and potential casualties after the battle had spilled onto the streets outside the prestigious Neptune Hotel. Of the four towering cyborgs that had accosted her at the start of it, one had been torn in half while another was lying on the ground and depowered through the forced removal of its kryptonite power battery. Corben had long vamoosed for greener pastures which left The Last Daughter of Krypton with a final obstacle that wasn't remotely strong enough to get the job done. She weathered the singing sting of the alien radiation as she tore open a good portion of the Metallo's chest plate and gave a silent thanks to Bruce and Lloyd for their diligence in training her to lessen the impact of one of her few physical weaknesses as she ripped the core from cyborg and watched her opponent fall.

And, just as she had anticipated, Kara was nearly done with planning her return trip back to Wayne Manor when the other shoe finally dropped.

"It's been a long time, Kara Zor-el."

_Years_, Kara couldn't help but think back as she felt her body freeze up. She hated having to endure the realization of the reflexive reaction but all the anticipation and preparation in the world couldn't have quite prepared her for the deep baritone that had served as the narrator when her soul had nearly been ripped in two. A part of her could still hear the mocking laughter as the manifestation of the sickest parts of her loomed above from where she lay, her lips and nose cracked and bleeding and her eyes swimming from the effects of the black kryptonite that her tormentor had fetched from the rogue asteroid that had been caught in the orbital wake of the satellite that had carried her away from Krypton's last moments with the darkest of intentions.

When she arrived on Earth after that 31-year journey, her mind muddled and her body empowered through both genetics and decades of chemical manipulation, she had been deluged by people who were eager to take advantage of whatever they thought she could offer. Clark was after her in order to find a link to a forgotten past. Diana was looking for a fellow warrior. Bruce was searching for whatever he had to do to keep her from destroying what he held dear. Their causes were all self-serving and noble in their own ways but the underlying matter that each of the three heroes had in common was that none of them presented their intents to her at face value.

Lex Luthor had no such troubles.

"First of all, I will come right out and say that I have never been a great fan of leaving unfinished business unresolved," the former president began, his calm candor being broadcasted clearly from the oral cavity of the deactivated android. "In my defense, my attempt to get what I wanted out of you had been the last matter on my agenda before that charlatan Alexander Luthor coerced me into going underground so perhaps it could be understood that something like this would be placed on the backburner. Allow me to thank you for your efforts in undermining him, by the way."

Tiring of the curdling skin along her right hand, Kara put a good dose of her strength into hurling the green kryptonite stone high into the air before looking back down. "My cousin made certain to eliminate the stores of kryptonite that had been building up over Earth. Even _you _shouldn't have been able to horde enough of the stuff without anyone noticing it so who helped you build this army of Metallos?"

"Well, that is quite the pertinent inquiry isn't it, little one?" Luthor asked back, the laughter in his countering question being delivered as if it were the businessman's favorite activity. "I'll leave it to the brighter minds behind your operation to find out but rest assured that there are a great many people that were willing to help provide the required resources."

"Then tell them to stay out of Gotham," Kara coldly replied. "Or, if you want to make yourself look a little better, tell them that we're all quite grateful for all the work and money you put into rebuilding this city after the earthquakes a couple of years ago but your assistance will no longer be required. I'll leave it to you to decide whether or not to tell them that your 'humanitarian gestures' were nothing but a show designed to swipe up the billions of dollars in construction contracts and the press credits that let you get to the presidency. . ."

Kara briefly wished that the truth had rattled her savvy guest but the sanctimonious tone behind the words to come didn't make her feel as if she succeeded. "Well, aren't we quick to swallow what our Earthborn masters are willing to feed us?"

"It tastes a lot better when said 'master' keeps making _you _look like a bumbling fool."

There was the briefest of pauses, the slightest chink in the armor, before Luthor began again. "There's no need for falsehoods, alien. The fact of the matter is that Gotham City has made a transformation the likes of which have not been seen since Caesar's occupation of Athens and I've come to reclaim my portion of the investment. After all, it was my efforts, _my capital_, that served the greatest role in this city's resurgence and now I consider it to be my civic duty to continue to develop the prosperity that this city enjoys."

"Wow," Kara noted while crossing her arms under her breasts. "You really do miss being a politician, don't you?"

"No, I miss being able to be a leader, Miss Zor-el. I am the hand that shall steer humanity to prosperity and all the proof I need for my legitimacy can be found in you; a young girl searching for her purpose only to come upon a benefactor who freely showed her the worst case scenario. I gave you the opportunity to see what you might become and inspired you to take on the challenges that will determine what you _will _be."

"What you _did _was try and fail to recruit a soldier into your ranks," Kara bit back. "You just wanted your own little alien warrior that you could coddle and condition to defeat the one creature that defies your self-importance."

"And what would be wrong with that, my dear?" Lex asked plainly, the awkward circumstances of the conversation leaving Kara to predict the meaning behind the question. "As Mister Wayne has found out for himself, a pawn, no matter how powerful or necessary it may be, is best suited for its task when it is informed of only the nobler half of the truth."

Kara rolled her eyes while moving her hands to her hips. "What is it with megalomaniacs and chess metaphors?"

"It is often considered to be a form of self-support designed by its user to differentiate between themselves and people that impede them and considered to be of lesser intelligence," Luthor gamely replied. "I hardly meant to claim that you were nothing more than a brainless tool to be shunted from space to space. You are a living, breathing champion with wants and needs. . . and ambitions that aren't entirely met by the life that's been handed to you."

Another pregnant pause broke into the proceedings as Kara struggled up her trust to respond and that only prompted the former president to press further. "You are a representation of the world that I wish to save. You are a woman who yearns for a life of peace and solitude after a lifetime of war and abuse. To meet those goals you surround yourself with people, some of which you consider to be friends that should be valued and treasured while others are those who want a permutation of what you desire but yet have no intention of sacrificing as much as what you're willingly putting up to achieve it."

"Yeah, feel free to throw yourself onto the latter half of that list, Mister Luthor."

"Perhaps I should," Luthor considered. "However, what happens when all the frustration of your dreams deferred start to place you on the side of the fence where humanity has placed me? What happens when the vain, violent woman that leapt from your soul has yet even more reasons to make her wishes known? What I'm offering is an opportunity to create a world where that darkness has no reason to exist but I realize that I am just one man. The construction of a productive society will require those who are truly willing to accept that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, creatures like yourself and the half-demon you've apparently entrusted with that darker half of your soul."

Kara let out another weighted sigh as Luthor allowed the temptation of the offer to sink in deeper. Shutting her crystalline blue eyes slowly as she looked down to the war torn ground, she let out another quick breath before snapping herself back to attention once again. "All right, so what's the plan, boss? Are you going to take all those billions that you and Bruce and a handful of others have gathered together and spread them out to those that actually need it? Or will you go another route? Perhaps break into The Watchtower, take all the advanced technology they have to offer and use all the money and resources you've put together to find a way to mass produce it so that everyone will have all the hi-tech tools they'll ever need?"

One did not need an intensely precise sense of hearing to hear the scoff coming from the speaker. "Come now. We both know that the bulk of my kind is far too stupid to properly employ such devices. They lack the ability or the desire to push themselves away from the bountiful supply of wasteful activities that have all but fashioned so much of humanity into nothing more than mindless drones."

"Uh huh. And by 'the bulk of your kind' you mean 'everybody that you don't like'," Kara countered, the half-Praxian feeling rather astute and aware in spite of the radiation burns and potentially fractured ribs. "You know, maybe you've been spending too much time in The White House or clustered away in your mad scientist lab but the real world doesn't really work that way. Believe it or not, there is somebody other than you that can save this world you claim to care so much for."

"Another sound point," Luthor conceded (although Kara could practically see the genius's molars grinding together as he said it). "Continue to tout the slow, laborious steps toward a brighter future that Gotham's chosen son has taken on in the three decades since he cradled his mother's blood-drenched skull in his lap. But how many more battles will you have to take on before you get something that comes even the slightest bit close to what I can achieve in a single stroke? Or, if we are to be more precise, how many more fights, how much more death and suffering, will it take until the darker side of you decides to say hello?"

Kara provided her rejoinder by smashing the communication device with the heel of her right foot, her eyes holding the slightest trace of crimson as the sound of crackling static buzzed about her right eardrum.

"Are you all right, K?" asked the modestly stressed voice that materialized as the electronic dust continued to settle. "I apologize but spoken and visual contacts were momentarily broken and I wasn't able to get a hold of you. Are you all right?"

_Of course_, Kara reasoned as she broke into a grin in response to The Calculator's concern. _For all his talk about wanting to change things for the better, he still doesn't want anyone to know what he's doing until he does it. _"I'm all right," she eventually replied, the young warrior woman briefly amusing herself by toeing the wreckage around her. "I guess I'm just tired of dealing with people who only want to ice skate downhill."

"I'm sorry?" Noah replied, the hacker understandably confused by the response. However, as much as she would have liked to clarify things, Kara could only offer her overseer a chance to ponder over the possibilities as she took to the skies to snatch the falling rock of kryptonite well before it could return and hit the ground. The familiar sense of disorientation and nausea set in but she willed herself into not missing so much as a second as she veered towards Wayne Manor, her pace quick but not as hasty as she could have made it.

"Nothing. It's just another matter on the docket."

* * *

_Iceberg Lounge – 12:07 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Well, that could have gone a whole lot better."

Although so much of him wished to agree, Batman found himself taking in Oracle's declaration with a frown. "It could have gone worse. We've managed to determine that Luthor has found a way to produce kryptonite-powered cyborgs while also finding a way to bring them down while apparently managing to prevent any civilian casualties."

"And we protected the apparent target of the attack," Oracle added, the red-haired computer genius apparently willing to take the optimistic route if her former mentor was willing to do so. "Although judging from the way that our dear Mister Cobblepot is sulking in his office, I would guess that he doesn't feel very saved."

The Dark Knight of Gotham City was momentarily torn between sighing and letting out a somewhat deserving smirk but eventually managed to maintain his neutrality as he looked about the quieted battleground. "That's a matter that can be dealt with at another time. A more pertinent question is discovering how Luthor managed to acquire the kinds of rogue materials he would need to construct something like this."

"Agreed," Oracle replied from her familiar vantage point within the well-guarded, uppermost floor of Kord Tower. "I mean, I know Lex can slide under a lot of radars but something like this is inevitably going to leave a paper trail, literal or otherwise. I'm already working my way along the top suspects and we'll see who shakes out when we work our way down."

"You have my thanks," Batman confessed, his critical eyes once again rooted to where the nonfunctioning Metallo brought down by Dinah and himself continued to lay motionless on what was the once pristine dance floor. "That being said, that kind of diligence isn't enough to forgive the comportment of your comrade."

Oracle rolled her eyes. Even as she did so, she found herself surprised by how the movement was still an instinct after years of being away from enduring the stringency of her mentor. "Oh, and it's not like your former Checkmate agent couldn't have picked his shots a little better with that alien gun of his."

The master detective sighed, giving up the point, as he turned to face the roguish comrades in question. Stalking his way over to one of the few tables that remained stable and standing after the hectic conflict, he eventually drew the attention of both Roy Harper and Zinda Blake despite their comradely chatter and their ongoing imbibing of what Batman could only presume to be illegally confiscated liquor.

"How's it hangin', bat ears?" Lady Blackhawk asked in her customarily coarse manner, the time-displaced veteran of World War II looking right back at Batman with a deliberately hungry gleam in her blue eyes. "Nice to see the past coupla years didn't put too many wrinkles on that dimpled chin of yours."

Batman appears to be well on his way to adding on a few of those rumples as he shot the uncouth pilot a withering glare. Feeling the need to get something back, he quickly turned his eyes to Arsenal. "Status report."

Roy swallowed the hefty combination of Grey Goose and lingering laughter. "Well, um, it's just as it was a few minutes ago," the red-haired sharpshooter reported before wiping his lips and enduring Zinda's bemused stare.

"We were able to get everybody out okay, there don't appear to be any major injuries, we've got the Metallo prepped to take it to wherever you're taking it and the G.C.P.D. is already setting up the security cordon," answered The Huntress, the raven-haired vigilante almost sounding too eager to make up for Roy's deficient attempt. As Zinda turned her expectant glare over to her, the scourge of Gotham's underworld went sheepish for a moment before her hot-blooded temper shifted her towards trying to look uncaring and, of course, that only left her attempt to fail miserably.

"Good work, Huntress," Batman said contritely, his response bringing a delighted smile to Helena's face until she remembered that she was trying to be nonchalant. "You managed to complete the tasks assigned to you without making an unnecessary scene. I wish that your other comrades could say the same."

"Oh, my. Whoever could you be referring to?" Lady Blackhawk airily challenged while dropping a hand over the black-and-gold hawk insignia that had proudly represented some of the finest pilots of the past two generations. "Hey! That metal beachhead was tryin' to shoot down my baby while you and Dinah were scooting on down and playing karate games so excuse me for choosing to take care of business myself. Just like I didn't have to leave my favorite watering hole just so th' two of you could get here as quick as ya wanted to."

"At ease, L.B.," Oracle warned over the comm. link (although she wasn't quite certain just which of the two black-and-yellow garbed hardheads she was trying to save more). "Arsenal, I think you've got an appointment with your mother and I think Huntress may be wanting to talk to someone as well."

Lady Blackhawk let out a snort. "Fine by me. The only 'appointment' I'm takin' now is with this here bottle," she declared, the hotshot pilot refilling her shot glass. "The supervisor shall see you now," she added before downing the drink just as Roy made his way northward towards the stage and Batman began to make his way out of the wrecked battleground. Briefly admiring the unflinching spirit of her comrade-in-arms, Helena soon broke into a quick jog to catch up with the long strides of her longtime inspiration. The person who put his foot in the door when she wanted to prove that she could do something greater and the same bastard who slammed the door in her face the moment she began to screw up.

"So, um, it's been an interesting night."

There was a slight raise of Batman's shoulders and that was the only indication that he had even bothered to regard the comment.

"Well, uh," Helena chirped back. _Chirping_, Helena thought. _Really? _"I guess I should thank you for the help. I mean, I had heard that Arsenal was working with you and I'm guessing he didn't come here on his own accord. You've got to be investigating what Intergang since they're coming into my town and. . . well, your. . ."

Helena briefly wondered how it was possible to feel blood rushing in and draining from her cheeks at the same time.

"Gotham! They are coming into Gotham."

"Yes. Yes, they are." Batman tightly replied, the detective now looking like he was tempted to throttle someone and was still angry about being torn between which of his comrades to start in with. Oddly enough, the frustration seemed to bolster Helena's confidence to the point where she swallowed her nervousness (and a bit of tequila dregs) and pushed forward.

"Do you really want me to be your partner?"

The frank question seemed to appeal to the forthrightness that many thought to be simply installed within Batman's cape and cowl. "I don't really know for certain. My colleagues certainly have a point when they say that I should have someone to watch my back on patrols. I just wish that quite a few of them would have given me a choice on just who that person would be."

"What? And you're saying I can't do it?" Helena challenged back, the poor choice in word selection emboldening her further. "Hey, I'll have you know that I'm damn proud of the way that I'm living my life. I'm a teacher now. I'm not just defending the streets while not even bothering to do anything that might make things better once the bad guys are in jail! I'm making changes! I'm making sacrifices!"

"Well, that's the thing, Miss Bertenelli," Batman sniped back, the contentious tone further rankling his short supply of patience. "I just lost someone very dear to me, a person who found meaning in her life by doing what she did best and used it to help other people. She watched my back and placed her life in my hands on nearly a nightly basis and now she's gone and it was my decision that put her into a situation that I couldn't control and she was the one who had to pay the consequences. So please _excuse me _if I'm not in the mood to hear about accomplishments whether they are mine or someone else's."

Helena found it odd how the littlest of signals could completely shift her temperamental thoughts. In this case, it was the soft clenching of Batman's cowl and the slight warble of that usually unbreakable voice that twisted her desire to shout back and smoothed it out into where she merely cinched her teeth.

"I'm sorry," Helena whispered, the vigilante and teacher and student not quite entirely certain about what she was apologizing for. "It's just. . . I mean, I'm usually the one who's all wrought out and ready to kick something after talking with you." Inhale. Exhale. "This is all kinda new to me."

Batman provided a sigh and a smirk in spite of himself, the counter startling Helena even further. "It isn't new for me, Helena. I've lost a lot of people in this war. Some of them were over matters that I couldn't have prevented and most of them were thanks to the fact that they got into matters that were just too far over their heads. Maybe it was a matter of pride or simply holding so much anger inside. . . But Cecilia. . ."

"Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah," Helena spurted out while raising her left hand and waving it in Batman's face. "Is _that _what this is about? Am I still not good enough for you because there's some points in my life that caused me to get pissed the fuck off? Okay. Okay! I admit that I had some trouble seeing the black from the white when I started out with this and maybe I didn't listen to some people when I should have but at least I've owned up to my mistakes! I mean, just what makes you think that you know anything about me? What I've been through?"

Realizing that there was no better time than the present, Batman brought Helena to silence by bringing his right hand up. Ignoring the startled flinch he received, the vigilante raised his palm and slid it past the right side of Helena's face before continuing to glide upward until the tips of his fingers were at the underside of his cowl. Peeling the tempered rubber and leather hood away, Bruce offered up the next few seconds as Helena gaped both at him and at the gesture, the usually verbose woman now positively slack jawed.

"Huh," Helena gulped down before her mouth went wide again. Then, remembering her dignity, she stiffened up before adding. "This explains a _lot_!"

* * *

_Themyscira – Fields of Pelennoria – 9:41 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

It didn't take many clues for Lloyd to recognition that his host possessed a gentle patience that he could greatly appreciate after the uncertainty of the past hours. Maybe it was the easy silence despite the tension of the past several hours but the realization most likely had more to do with the fact that the charming female walking side-by-side with him seemed to make no efforts towards disrupting his efforts to take in the ethereal beauty around him. The glimmer of the half-moon offered a scant supply of illumination but the half-demon's enhanced senses were more than enough to allow him to admire the simple splendor of what appeared to be an endlessly rolling pasture of green grass accentuated by the occasional patch of wildflowers. He had never had the opportunity to visit these plains, their eternal rejuvenation made possible through the ancient delving of deities who had grown to appreciate the splendors of the world they had chosen to inhabit, but now both he and his demonic brethren stretched their senses wide to take in the unsullied scents of nature and the sound of the fall wind rustling along the loping hills. Even the surrounding wild animals, dozing hummingbirds and stealthy gray squirrels and even the rare mythological creation seemed to remain uncommonly silent as if none of them wished to perform any action that would take away from the surrounding serenity.

_I want to bring Kara here_, was the one conclusion that continued to rumble through Lloyd's head until even his host was coerced into chuckling. "Sorry about that. Guess it's been a while since I've had the time to stop and smell the roses, so to speak."

Displaying the seemingly eternal sense of fortitude that had guided her champions throughout the ages, Athena offered her guest a gentle smile. "It is quite all right, Mister Thomas," the goddess replied, her tone reminding Lloyd of what he once thought to be a patient librarian had he ever had the opportunity to go to a proper school. Her jet-black hair, restrained as it was into a tight bun that left only a handful of long strands to brush against her shoulders, painted such a firm contrast with her pale skin and the purely white gown that covered her lean, angular frame. A golden sash was wrapped around her trim waistline, a gift from Heracles that doubled as a plea of forgiveness for the rage-driven crimes he had committed to the Amazons many centuries ago, the diaphanous silk almost glittering in the light. "And I would extend that mercy to the demon within you if the old fool ever had the sense to stop acting unimpressed."

Lloyd chuckled back, his own amusement riding over The Condemner's cognitive grumbles. "I thank you for allowing us your counsel," he said sincerely, the young man quickly regaining his composure. "Still, after your kindly intervention, I'm not entirely certain how I could repay you."

"Do not start sounding so humble, half-blood," Athena countered, the virgin goddess offering a smirk that dangerously reminded The Black Dog of Scandal Savage's reproachful glare. "Given all the questions you have to ask me, I would say that those kinds of efforts would cut into what little time you have."

Having no clue as to what portion of the bait he wanted to fetch, Lloyd prudently chose to avoid it all. "Why was Ishmael Gregor so interested in stealing the _Kikuichi-monji_? What power is within it that could help either him or Luthor?"

Athena responded with a quick _tut_, the admonishment hastily bringing Lloyd back to his memories of imaginary librarians. "How troublesome these beautiful creatures can be, Za'hafal-nesh. They focus so much on the heart yet stray away from it whenever there might be something about that could change things for the better!" The words were spoken with an odd concoction of frustration and joy that Lloyd never thought he could be capable of. "Your eyes may be searching for the beasts in question but these aren't the monsters you're looking for, Mister Thomas. At least for now, I advise you to continue to care less for what is here and more on what could have been or what will be to come. After all, how can you expect to answer the new questions if you keep making no efforts to address the old?"

Lloyd sighed at that admittance, the man in front of the demon ignoring the chiding words of what lay beneath. "All right," he conceded before taking a deep breath. "Vincent was my friend. He called me his brother but none of that was enough to take away from the wrath of his actions. Why did Neron not choose _him_?"

The coarse wisps of the tips of Athena's eyebrows briefly fluttered as she raised them, her brow brushed by an easterly gust. "Perhaps he had found a release from it with the finality that death could provide," she casually replied. "Perhaps someone like Neron, a greater demon with such powerful ambitions for something greater than his lot, would find something more out of a monster who yearned for power rather than an innocent who had it forced upon him. Or. . ."

The pause seemed to knock the wind out of Lloyd's gut. "Or he found a way out."

Athena nodded, pretending to consider the notion. "Or, once again, you're looking in the wrong direction."

The Black Dog could easily make out the sound of his own teeth grinding together. "I've grown long tired of profoundly old bastards only telling me what they want to say."

"Then along me to break that trend," Athena countered, her words finally having a whisper of an authoritative tone behind them. "You made it a mission to discover what The Condemner was even after there was no way you could escape your fate. You learned of Za'hafal-nesh's sins, his raison d'être, and the fatal flaw that led to his imprisonment but you weren't the only one who had power forced upon them, did you? What if you received the power of a god while ensnared in rage rather than sorrow? How much would you question whatever was to come if you were determined to get back at the hand that wounded you rather than understand the one that simply slipped away?"

Lloyd let out a breath just as Athena looked upward to glance at a nightingale soaring just over the trees to the east on its way to the rich crests of the ocean. "Very well," the younger of the two travelers relented. "What do you know of the demon that inhabited my brother?"

"A spirit of vengeance," the goddess explained, the vague description quick to inspire The Black Dog's ire. "A beast with the worst kind of good intentions whose story ended even before my time so I am afraid that anything that I could tell you would only be secondhand. Perhaps you should start heeding my advice to look closer to home."

"_Enough of the doubletalk, soothsayer. Or, if you want to continue prattling then perhaps you can attempt to do so while staring back at my own eyes."_

The menacing challenge continued to rattle through Athena's thoughts even as she offered back a prudish smirk. "I believe that would be up to your caregiver, Za'hafal-nesh," she primly answered. "Of course, if Mister Thomas would be happy to comply then I suppose that I would have no qualms with addressing you directly."

Already feeling that he had enough possibilities to digest, Lloyd had already begun to mumble some words under his breath. _"All right then. Still, don't think for a moment that I won't be listening. . . or talking to you later, for that matter."_

The goddess of wisdom stepped back out of deference as Lloyd's hazel eyes curdled and warped into seemingly bottomless pools of black and silver. She looked on curiously as the half-demon's facial muscles bulged, his slender arms stretching outward and his fingers stretching so stiffly that they almost appeared to be ready to leap free of his hands. It all looked as if The Black Dog had committed himself fully to some impossible feat of strength but Athena had long known of the unique connection that a human could share with what passed on before it. To her, the demonic aura of the beast within would have been just as easy for her to interpret as the words of one of her own manuscripts.

"Welcome to Themyscira, Za'hafal-nesh the Condemner. While one could take umbrage at your refusal to commune with me in the past, I suppose that some concessions can be offered for a fellow defender of humanity."

"Humanity has precious little to do with this!" The Condemner fired back, the comparatively diminutive muscles along Lloyd's throat stressing and failing to match the guttural timbre that the greater demon was accustomed to. "The Harbinger of Vigilance should have been condemned to eternal penance in Hashmalamum and yet neither the spirit nor its human vessel were anywhere to be found! And now this filth Luthor has forcibly absconded with one of the few artifacts that could properly contain such a threat. A threat that you were once consigned to monitor, no less!"

"Will you be done with needlessly repeating the events of the past?" Athena asked, the goddess calmly smoothing out an infinitesimally-small ruffle that had appeared upon her silken gown.

The Condemner leveled the playing field with a menacing stare. "Very well. Have you remained diligent to your task or have you allowed your emotions to get the better of you like so many of your kin?"

"Well, given the history of your kin, I had half-imagined that a demon whose time was running so short would be less focused on something that will not be resolved until long after it has departed." The shrewd deity took stock in how Lloyd's borrowed hands rose sharply for a split-second before they ceased their violent motion and returned to rest at his sides. "Now, out of kindness for your courtesy, I assure you that the spirit that Immanuel Lugae had forcibly bonded with Vincent Culp has nothing to do with the intentions of either this reality's version of Alexander Luthor or the greater demons that empower Ishmael Gregor. The Harbinger of Vigilance remains under my supervision, just as it always has, and will continue to be watched over so long as I have the ability to do so."

The Condemner thickly swallowed the genuine reply. The silver in his eyes glittering in the low light, the demon could already feel the limited control that Dabura had given him inevitably slipping away. "So you feel it as well, Pallas Athena? That I am truly living on borrowed time?" The human's long fingers were bent in a claw-like fashion almost out of instinct even as he lowered his face and wrapped the tips of his left ring finger and thumb around his nose. "A pity. There is so much more that could be accomplished. So much more that I could offer to the boy who allowed me these opportunities."

Athena offered back the same smile that had inspired Odysseus to continue his impossible quest home from the ruins of Troy. "Your sympathy holds merit, Za'hafal-nesh. However, I still cannot help but speculate whether our shared goals, and avatars, are capable of holding up their end of the bargain."

After a decade of cohabitation, the moments where Lloyd and The Condemner had seen fully eye-to-eye had become rather frequent and the unspoken statement within the words of their host provided yet another example. "Lady Athena, I cannot help but believe that you happen to know something that I do not."

Athena's laughter lacked the throaty seduction of Aphrodite or the alluring confidence of Artemis but it appealed to the fused being just the same. "How odd is it that our connections can seem to lie so fully within our faults. The old guard fell from the crimes of pride only to be replaced by creatures that think far too little of themselves, brief souls convinced that their finiteness only brings about inevitability."

"So our worries are the same then?" The question was spoken with the demon's voice but held the worries of the human. "You believe Luthor's attempt to shape the world in his image will help bring about a cataclysm?"

Apparently finding a need for complacency, the goddess buffered the proposition by briefly gazing up to a flock of chipmunks taking refuge in the safety of the tall fir trees to the west. "The possibility shouldn't come as that much of a surprise," she considered. "The demons were cast down because the greatest of them couldn't believe that they had to listen to one another to survive. The gods were overthrown because they could not even consider that the creations they guided and tormented could ever gain authority of their own. Humanity's calamity is different though. It may hold a high opinion of their actions at a time but they tend to have precious little faith in themselves in times of trouble. Still, just as the world was reborn despite the flames and chaos of war, so too shall it be rebuilt once more."

The Condemner responded with a firm nod of his borrowed head. "I do not seek ascension from the ashes," he sternly replied. "My sins may be counted and considered but it is my greatest hope that the final point of my legacy will be of preservation. It is upon us, the remains of the fallen, to preserve the safety of those that have come after us."

Withholding a sigh, Athena fixed The Condemner's determination with a sad smile.

"Old fool. You've done nothing but condemn an innocent man."

* * *

_Iceberg Lounge – 12:21 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Oracle?"

"Yes."

"Bane?"

"Yes."

"The Joker?"

"Perhaps. Still, if he did, he isn't the type to spread it around."

"Hmm. All right. How about Hush?"

"Yes."

Helena frowned and briefly gritted her teeth. "Okay. Catwoman is pretty much a given. . . and Dinah since she was always making those rich boy jokes that she'd laugh at me for not understanding."

Bruce let out a deep sigh, his heavy kneepads creaking as he moved to find a better seat in an already cramped confines of the storage closet. "I was hoping that this wasn't going to just lead to a. . ."

"Oh, shit! _Please _tell me that Blake didn't know before me! Not him too!" The Huntress turned to face the man who had served as her greatest inspiration since the days before her first training bra and observed the Batglare delivered through those baby blue eyes. "Oh, _son of a bitch!_" she groaned before slumping her forehead against her upraised knees. "I swear, I'm gonna wear Babs's guts for garters for this."

"It isn't her fault," insisted the man behind The Dark Knight of Gotham City. Noting the stillness of the younger vigilante, he briefly went over the insane notion of placing a hand on Helena's shoulder before he sought after the far wiser reaction of looking up at the solitary light bulb that illuminated their surroundings. "She kept the information confidential because I told her too. It wasn't out of any disrespect towards who you are or what you are capable of. . ."

"Oh. . . Oh, God!" Helena exclaimed as she lifted her head back up, her neck soon ramrod straight. "Dick Grayson. Nightwing is Dick Grayson." The raven-haired crime fighter momentarily looked as if she was rendered sick by the revelation. "I slept with the trust fund baby of the most infamous entitlement junkie that Gotham City has ever known."

Now it was just a matter to resist the damning urge to chuckle. "The _point _of the matter is that my younger colleagues believed that I needed someone to watch my back as I patrolled the city. I'm guessing that our shared pasts and similar histories made them believe that you would be a good match."

Helena looked as if she was beginning to sober up, her lips briefly trembling from the overload of the past and the starkness of the present. "I. . . I guess so," she relented, the tough warrior cursing her own hesitation once again. "So what do you think about it?"

"About having you as my partner?"

_No, about how the Rangers fucked up The World Series_, Helena wanted to scream back. "Well, now that I know a little bit more about what I would be getting into here, I just wanted to see what you thought."

Bruce let out a grumble, the back of his head slowly colliding with the cement wall behind him. "I've already stated my case, Helena. I see the wisdom in having someone joining me on patrols but I can't be certain how efficient I would be with the task of watching over that person. Now that isn't any offense to you. . ."

"Woah, woah," Helena said softly while holding up a relenting palm. "Wasn't doubting my ability to watch my own ass but maybe I didn't make this clear. I wasn't looking for Batman's master strategies. I want to know what _Bruce Wayne_ thinks." Obtaining the slightest note of curiosity in the gentleman's stare she worked to add, "What does the man behind the mask, a guy who has apparently spent his life hunting down the bad guys to try to catch up to the one that got away, have to say about teaming up with somebody who has done a whole lot of the same thing?"

The knowing inquiry was naturally met with silence but it wasn't the fact of its presence but how it seemed to radiate from every pore of the man that truly drew Helena's attention. She had long been used to the meaningful silences, the ones that just broadcasted how much control Batman had over every situation, particularly the ones where her own thoughts and actions were on the line and up for consideration. The seconds she had to juggle now were clearly born of bald-faced honesty and not the kind that the bastard behind the menacing cape and cowl seemed to use like a blunt instrument. The sheer starkness of it was enough to skim her thoughts through a tide of sympathy that hardly mixed well with the three champagne cocktails and the blood loss from the hairline scrape along her right leg.

She suddenly discovered that she loved and hated the now palpable fact that nobody could bring more pain to Batman's life than Bruce Wayne. It made her rethink all those odd little moments when Oracle would try to smooth over some particularly douchy encounter with The Dark Knight with some bizarre soliloquy about how he was just trying to do what he thought was best. She wondered just how much of the "billionaire playboy" was a means to an end. Did he even bother to use it as a relief from the reality? Did he even think that who he presented himself to be had anything to do with the person he actually was?

_Y'know, this kind of thinking is pretty common for a growing child that has grown more aware of the sacrifices of their parent. . ._

Helena promptly shot a neural crossbow through the left eye of her inner psychologist just as Bruce turned to look at her once again. "Okay. Then let me be honest. You know how long I've wanted to see what I could really do," she began again, the affirming nod from the reticent gentleman providing more than enough encouragement for Helena to continue on. "And I thought I got that chance when you sponsored me to join the JLA but then I either messed that up by assaulting a downed criminal or you messed it up by being an asshole. I don't know. It all depends on the amount of alcohol I have in me at the time."

History almost seemed to demand the inclusion of that little potshot.

"And I _knew _I got that shot when Oracle brought me into the Birds. Through something you helped start, I got to do a lot of good things not only here in Gotham but also around the rest of the world." The Huntress allowed a little too much time to allow all of that to sink in. Maybe she was just affirming how far she had come from what this man had once thought her to be or maybe she really was just being petty by flaunting her own successes. Of course, the most likely proposition was that it was a bit of a mix of the two but she tried her best not to hold that against herself as she took another deep breath.

"Still. . . I'm starting to think that the only way I'll ever really know whether I've really made it or not is by 'going home'. I don't know. Does that sound too egotistical to a guy who wears a giant bat on his chest?"

Bruce responded with a doleful glare that was blessedly lacking in brooding funk or overcritical chiding. "Well, it doesn't sound like it to me," he admitted. "Then again, this is coming from someone who wears a giant bat on his chest." Allowing Helena a bit more of a reward for her honesty by allowing her to snort and chuckle, he rested his hands on his knees before continuing on. "If you want the job then it's yours on one condition. If either one of us starts to think that this is a bad idea then we drop it. After all, we both have far too much to worry about in our lives to be worried about having to handle another mistake."

Torn as she was between being regarded as both "an equal" and a "potential mistake", Helena was distracted enough to let out a jump as the closet door swung open. Perturbed as she momentarily was by Bruce's complete lack of reaction, she managed to twist her lips into a solid frown as a pair of twinkling blue eyes came into her sights.

"Okay. I always pegged the both of you to be partial to broom closets but I _never _would have figured that you'd be in one together."

The Huntress subdued her Italian-born temper by presenting the grinning, blonde-haired minx with her right middle finger. Of course, the gesture only served to heighten Dinah's laughter as The Black Canary flounced her way to the opposite wall and took a seat. Given her penchant for wearing full-length, fishnet stockings and delivering deafeningly high-pitched tunes with little to no provocation (both sonic based and otherwise), it didn't surprise Helena in the least that her longtime partner did not seem the least bit uncomfortable while both she and Bruce continued to hedge and glare and stumble for words.

"Whatcha dooooooin'?" The Black Canary asked, her mischievous grin nothing more than a telecast of confidential information.

"Oh, nothing," Helena finally answered back after giving her apparently future patrol partner a knowing grimace. "I'm just working out the finer parts of how I'm going to pummel in my boyfriend's face for not telling me about the man behind this mask," she pointed to the pile of cloth and leather that had pooled around the back of Batman's neck. "Still, I think I can be motivated to figure out how I'm going to punch the stuffing out of you."

"Hey, it wasn't my secret to tell!" Dinah proclaimed, the bottle blonde throwing up her hands in concession. "Personally, I'd be more worried about confessing to your sugar daddy about that aforementioned boyfriend of yours but that's just me."

"He is _not _my 'sugar daddy'," Helena coldly replied while broadcasting a withering glare that neatly accompanied the stare of the "daddy" in question. "Bruce is my. . ."

"Oh, wow. Already calling him Bruce!" Black Canary butted in, the abject silence she received in return a clear sign that she had regained what little of the upper hand that she had lost. "Just to let you know. . . he _hates _it when somebody calls him Bruce when he's wearing the outfit. See? You can see a little bit of his jaw twitch every time you say it. Bruce, Bruce, BruceBruceBruce. . ."

"I yearn for the moment when you actually have something valuable to say," Batman said ruefully, his eyes apparently on an adventure to avert his eyes from having any accidental opportunity to catch a glimpse of Dinah's aforementioned legs. Helena somehow managed to note the prevarications and quietly filed it away but if Black Canary gave any clue to recognizing it then she managed to hide it well.

"Well, I'm sorry but I can get a little gushy when one of my birds decide to fly the coop and leave for the big city," Dinah paused at that and quirked her head to one side before adding. "Well, I guess you're technically going back to a smaller city. I always forget whether or not the census takers count Bludhaven as a suburb or not. Maybe I should ask Dickie about it. . ."

Helena felt the overpriced champagne start to curdle in her gut while The Black Canary continued to ponder and ramble. "What? How did? I didn't. . ."

"Oracle and I were listening in the whole time," Dinah replied in an impressively matter-of-fact manner, the martial artist tapping two fingers against the side of her left ear to indicate the communicating device that lay inside. "I mean, come on. After all these years of arguments and misunderstandings and mutual sex partners you had to have guessed that she'd be interested."

Bruce finally presented an intense reaction to the goings on in the form of a sharp wince as his own comm. link broke into a high-pitched whine that he had long identified with someone being too hasty establishing a communication relay.

"I told you not to say anything!" Oracle bellowed, her prudish shout clearly audible to her two top field agents. "See? You see? _This _is where my trust issues come from, B.C.! It's you and your apparently undying need to just speak your mind about anything that draws your attention!"

"Please beg my pardon," threw in another eavesdropper as Bruce tried his best to hold off his weariness of the world in the midst of a smirking Dinah, "but I wanted to remind all of you that you are carrying on all this tripe while remaining on _my _communications network. Now while I certainly understand the surplus you all may have on time, I do not believe it is fair to either myself or my superior telecommunications arrangement that you should be wasting it here."

"Hey! Listen! It's somebody who probably tried to kill me in the past!" Dinah enthused, her boisterous claim prudently getting in the way of whatever the younger of the two available computer geniuses had to say about things. "Hi, Guy Who Tried to Kill Me! Hey, I heard that you were giving Speedy anonymous computer lessons so is there any chance that you can lend me a ha_yayayouch!"_

Bruce appeared to take a grim satisfaction from the damage he caused to Dinah's ears killing his side of the communications link, the sheer cost and labor that would be needed to create another copy of the upgraded communications technology serving as the only saving grace for the thumbnail-sized ear bud that he removed from his pinna before placing it on the floor. He could see the smirk from the corner of his eye and he realized that the woman sitting next to him looked to be on the verge of laughing before she managed to stifle it with the back of her hand. His detective instincts still humming along from the work he had put in to uncover the potential links between Intergang and The Iceberg Lounge, it didn't take long to think about why a person who was usually so open with her emotions suddenly seemed so subdued. Things like yelling or accusatory glares or emphatic silences or terse conclusions always ran the risk of becoming so simple that sharing a laugh could become a tricky thing to do.

And, perhaps for the first time, Bruce Wayne sought to change that discrepancy in the mind of Helena Bertenelli.

"Okay, my ears aren't ringing anymore so I'll just cut my way through the meaningful silence!" Dinah proclaimed as she sprung to her feet. While it shouldn't have been an easy thing to do, The Black Canary was already looming over Bruce and Helena before either of the raven-haired vigilantes had begun to move. "Well, you must be feeling like a kid from the Bronx who grew up and just got signed to play for the Yankees, Helena."

Helena's cheeks flushed at the thought to an extent where she felt that she had to hide her eyes. "I don't know, Di," she confessed while swiping her right hand through the wisps of hair that had fallen onto her forehead. "I mean, I can't help but think that I'm leaving you girls in the lurch here."

Dinah's laugh rang against the narrow walls as she stooped down and swooped her friend into a predictably awkward hug. "Awwwwww. Look who's thinking she's all important now," the Justice League founding member cooed as she felt the big, bad Huntress poke her forehead against her shoulder. "We'll always be proud of you, Helena. And you'll always have a place with the birds if the bats get a little too gloomy."

Blessedly out of the loop, Bruce suddenly found himself smirking with such fervor that he couldn't batten it down even as his new partner turned to look back at him.

"Well, it looks like you've got a new recruit, Mister Wayne."

"Indeed I do, Miss Bertenelli."

* * *

_Watchtower 7-A Sonic Craft (decommissioned) _- _1:26 A.M. Mountain Standard Time_

Stowed as he was within the innards of the jet's tiny cargo bay, The Black Dog briefly wondered just how much he currently owned one Oliver Jonas Queen. Despite not having slept in nearly 40 hours, the newest Misfit had no reservations against either piloting their ship home or defusing the far more tenuous situation of one Linda Park-West after she had been informed of her husband's injuries and his choice to sleep things off on the trip back.

_Believe me. If there's one thing I've learned from 20 years of being a crime fighter it's being able to talk to a righteously angry lady._

Remembering the arrogantly framed reply was enough to bring a quick smirk to the half-demon's face. The upward tilting of his cheek muscles provided a hint of balm but it wasn't long at all before the scabs began to fester and his eyes returned to the silver saber in his left hand. He took in the eldritch energy offered by what he once considered to be an unbreakable blade without even thinking about it, the simple reflex a matter he had mastered with the aid of a blood brother who had taken to his own offered blade with a greater fondness than he could provide. The saber was a product of Hephaestus's blood, sweat, and godly flame, the _Mugalshir _had been proven to be a vessel of supernatural energy enough to store the soul of a former owner. That hypothesis confirmed, who could honestly deny the possibilities, the mysteries that the _Kikuichi-monji _could reveal?

Scandal had once confided in him that Vincent had always been the better swordsman and Lloyd had never found any reason to disagree. The Silver Coyote was a beast driven to obsession by the love of those who stayed with him, the conviction of completing his own mission and the compulsion to master the ways and means that would bring his dreams into reality.

There was no way for Lloyd to believe that Vincent had failed to discover the secrets behind the possibilities.

Why could he not sense Vincent in Hashmalamum? How much influence did the demon have control over the man? Was the engine that provided power to the power battery of The Yellow Lantern Corps, an army that had consisted of thousands of fearful beings throughout the cosmos, created by a man who wanted to craft the world into his own image or a beast of seemingly internal vigilance whose logic still remained a mystery?

Or was it a unique combination of the two? Of course it was. He didn't need the stack of documents Athena had provided to him to prove that. He looked at the pile for what he thought to be the thousandth time before yanking his eyes away and returning his sights back to the sword in his hand.

The _Mugalshir, _in response, continued to pulse its silver light as it continued to whisper its secrets into the night and away from his ears.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

As much as I would like to use the excuse of "this series is no longer operating on a fixed schedule", I will admit that this update took a bit longer than I would have liked. Volunteer work, a full-time job, and a full-fledged romantic relationship can put a damper on some of the less necessary things in your life I've found. Of course, just because it isn't necessary doesn't mean that it's not important and I'd like to take the time out to take action and do a bit of catch-up work.

Another hearty round of thanks to all my frequent reviewers, of course! Thanks in particular to a certain Canadian Batchild who I hope will be quite content with how I treated some characters that she tends to be a little leery/curious about. To Robinegg, a woman who consistently badgers me about not finding the time to talk to her or work on this apparent obsession of hers, I bequeath a boot to the head.

* * *

_Issue #132 Preview_

There is a guest making her way to Wayne Manor but it's not quite who you might expect. Her eyes shining as brightly as the glint of her golden hair, the herald of what's to come will join Gotham's Dark Knight in his quest for solace and understanding by examining their many sins of the past. Will this relative stranger help provide the answers that Bruce Wayne seeks or merely serve as the accompaniment to the tragedy that corresponds with the end of his existence?

Oh, and Lloyd goes to Metropolis. . . and Wally takes his kids on a trip to Hong Kong.

All that and more will be awaiting you in _Unaccommodating Oracles _and the next installment of The Misfits: Sorta Wanted Legacies. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	132. Sorta Wanted Legacies

Issue #132

Sorta Wanted Legacies

_10:27 A.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Given the sheer bulk of experience she had in the corresponding field, the smartly dressed young woman strolling down the long, stone walkway would have felt a bit more comfortable being in a setting so available for prying eyes. Still, the inclination for disquietude had played an impact on everything from the way she moved to the way she dressed for the occasion, her long legs loosely covered in black long-johns while her slender torso was safely ensconced within her favorite woolen sweater. Seven years of exclusive private schools had slaughtered whatever affection she had for wearing skirts and buttoned dress shirts and she savored the feeling of warming her hands by stuffing them into her pockets even as she hunched her shoulders to keep away from the low-lying fall winds. A life so intermixed with moments of privilege and times of tragedy had left Cassandra Sandsmark with a lingering desire to avoid the spotlight when she could. Of course she had known the glories of the Amazons and the finest of schools and privileged with magnificent lovers and friends and that bout of hypocrisy was more than enough to make the fair-haired woman feel another bitter tang of guilt as a cluster of leaves swirled past her feet.

But she couldn't deny it with each name that passed through her thoughts. Her mother. . . Bart. . .

Conner. . .

The Elias graduate finally broke free from the unnecessary thoughts as her steps brought her to the stone stairwell. A temporary shake-off, mind those who might have been paying attention, but still enough to remind her that there were so many reasons to be happy about, so many inspirations to keep protecting what she still had. It was that determination, the same stubborn insistence that had inspired her to challenge the authority of Wonder Woman herself, that had kept Tim from leaving Titans Tower after he had so many bad reasons to do so. She made sure to tell Viktor how important it was for all of them to have a guiding hand. Hell, she even bottled up every inclination she had ever had to strangle Rose Wilson, ball her up, and toss her into The Pacific Ocean.

She had done these things because she had learned how important it was to keep a good hold on what you love, if only because such priceless things could be lost in an instant. And it was this saving grace and fatal flaw that prompted her to ball her left hand into a fist, take a deep breath, and knock on the door in front of her. The widened eyes and wind-swept hair that followed, however, was all the fault of the person who opened the door so quickly in response. The act was so rapid, in fact, that one might have called the gentleman who greeted Cassandra as The Fastest Door Opener Alive.

"Oh, hey, Cass!" exclaimed Wally West, the speedster seemingly unaware of the guest's unusual reaction. "Yeah, come on in!" he added while shuffling aside, his green eyes radiating with anxiousness. "Sorry about the bum's rush but we're in the middle of a pretty hectic brunch here."

Cassandra took a closer look at Bart's mentor, the Teen Titan trying not to smile at the harried expression on The Flash's face that coincided so nicely with not only the juice stains on the young father's Central City Royals t-shirt but also the smattering of flour and batter that were spackled about his face and hair. "That's okay, Wally. Is Bruce already down in the cave?"

Wally tilted his head to one side looking mildly bemused. "Awww, you actually think he leaves that hellhole before noon on a weekend. I tell you, it must be nice to have all that youthful naiveté."

As chagrined as she could have been by the blithe response, the sight that appeared behind Wally's back was more than enough to cool her temper. Looking on as her aggressor began to read between the lines, Cassandra once again held in her chuckles as the young father caught the sight of his youngest child dashing around the western corner wearing what appeared to be a stainless steel cooking pot around his head, the thick surface of the cooking container muffling what the 3-year-old most likely thought to be a terrifying war cry. She only had a split second more to enjoy it before Wally had rushed away and swept Jai into his arms, the pot falling to the ground with a disgruntled sounding _CLANG!_

"How on Earth did you even get a hold of this thing anyway?" Wally asked with mildly angered disbelief as he looked at the ten-inch chopping knife that his son had been clutching in his left hand as he ran. "I thought we had kept these things locked up after the last time."

"Well, then perhaps some of our more undistinguished denizens should acquire the wisdom to refrain from instructing their children upon the practice of lock picking," answered a cultured tone that Cassie immediately identified as belonging to Alfred Pennyworth. Visible evidence of her theory was soon provided as the distinguished caretaker of the manor turned the corner and stood before the father and son. "Rest assured that Master Harper shall be appropriately disciplined for his crimes."

"Thank you ever so much," Wally said gratefully while adjusting the manner in which he was toting his son with his left arm. "Hold on. I'll get the pot. You just tend to our guest here."

Cassandra snapped back to attention and noticed the butler looking mildly chagrined at the thought of leaving someone else to tend to a mess. Perhaps it was the thought of having another guest to attend to that provided the old man with enough strength to restrict the temptation of bucking authority and the Teen Titan rewarded Alfred for his flexibility by softly placing her right hand into Alfred's extended palms.

"Always a pleasure, Miss Cassandra," Alfred said in greeting while warmly enmeshing Cassandra's offered hand within both of his. "Master Bruce is already in the cave. Perhaps you would be kind to accept my company?"

"Oh, it's no problem, Alfred," Cassandra replied with a level of comfort that surprised even herself. She had never really been comfortable with all the high-minded behaviors and mannerisms that seemed to germinate around the many public fund raisers during her years at Elias but it never bothered her when it was provided by this particular British gentleman. "Besides, this will give you a chance to ask about Tim." Doing her best to present her own well-cultured ways, Wonder Girl managed to abstain from chuckling once again as her reserved guide fought back a sputter of embarrassed hedging.

"Forgive me. I did not think my ulterior motives to be so close to the surface," Alfred said in concession. "However, now that my dignity has been safely shunted aside, just how fares Master Timothy?"

Cassie could not help but smile as the both of them began to make their way down the central hallway connecting the manor'[s central lobby and the increasingly familiar day room. "Well, things are really just starting to calm back down again. There was a lot of bad blood in the air after the hearings on The Watchtower of course but he and Viktor look like they've managed to clear things up. He's even begun some freelance studies at Berkeley! Criminology and all that but I have _no _idea where he manages to find the time to do it with our schedules."

"Ah, I had gathered such a decision from perusing Master Wayne's record of a weighty contribution to that university's tuition coffers," Alfred said smartly, his words earning him an amiable smile.

"Of course, having Eddie back all hale and hearty and ready to drag him out of that research facility every now and again probably played a big part in that. I mean, I can't thank you enough for all the stuff you did for Kid Devil. If anything else, it keeps Rose away from irritating the bejeezus out of me. Of course, I'm sure that if she ever heard me saying that then I'd have to go back to the attempted disembowel days so let's make certain that we keep that between us, huh?" She had taken several steps before the realization that she wasn't receiving a response began to irk at her. "Um, is something wrong?"

Alfred tilted his head to one side. "I must apologize, madam. It occurs to me that I never properly admitted my guilt for the tension that took place in your domicile. Though I am privileged to serve under Master Bruce, it was my responsibility to. . . refrain from informing Master Timothy of the true intent of our operations."

Cassie silenced the verbose ramble by gently gripping the butler's left shoulder. "Please don't worry about it, Mister Pennyworth," she implored. "It isn't my place to judge your actions but Tim is a dear friend and if anything you did helped bring him closer into all our lives then I'm grateful for it." She put a fraction of her godly strength into what she hoped to be a soothing squeeze of the old man's tensing muscles. "We wanted him in our lives just as much as he needed us."

Ever an aficionado for chivalrous conduct, Alfred plucked the hand of his master's guest off of his shoulder with a gentle smile. "Well, I suppose that I couldn't ask for anything more than that," he considered while continuing forward, the steps of the duo eventually bringing them to the grandfather clock that diligently hid mysteries that the both of them had come to understand. The opening of the glass covering and the repositioning of the aged hour and minute hands was all but instinctual to the former Interpol agent as was his utter refusal to allow the far stronger Cassandra to slide aside the heavy timepiece to reveal the low-lit stone stairwell behind it. "Here we are, Miss Cassandra. Please remember that if there is anything you require than I am but a call away."

"Thank you, Alfred!" Cassandra cheerily called back even while continuing down the set of steps, the fair-haired adopted Amazonian finding herself more comfortable with the darkness around her than she ever thought she could.

* * *

As Cassandra Sandsmark made her way into the depths beneath the manor with a confident stride, a far faster individual was making his way about with far more fretful steps. Having gladly handed over his well-fed children to the custody of some of the manor's many eager and available babysitters, Wally was now pacing back and forth along the wooden flooring of the bedroom he shared with his wife. Gripping a cellular telephone with such a sharp degrees of nervousness that it was a wonder that the device hadn't cracked under the pressure, the champion of the cosmos and war-weary breakfast cook continued to accept the logic streaming from the other end of the line with short, impatient nods of his head. Of course, a shrewd individual could have interpreted the brief gestures as the gentleman's decidedly half-hearted attempts to settle his own nerves but the speedster's subconscious thoughts had made great efforts to avoid the possibility that such opinions would appear.

Which was most likely why this particular phone conversation was being taken in the bedroom rather than, say, the kitchen or the dayroom. Less chances of other people pointing out these faults, you see.

"Look, it's not that I don't appreciate the gesture but I just don't think that it's the right time for it," explained The Fastest Man Alive. "There are already a whole lot of things that need to get taken care of and Linda's working and I. . . I just really don't see why we should be putting so much effort into doing this."

The weary sigh from the speaker at the other end of the line was a clear indication that the argument was not nearly as settled as Wally would have liked. "Well, then when _is _it going to be a good time, Wallace? I mean, I've already heard from a number of sources that what we're going to do is only going to take an hour, several at the most. I know you may have a perspective that's a little bit different from the rest of us but why travel halfway around the world if you're not going to have a little fun while doing it?"

"Well, how about the fact that I don't think that this is the smartest thing that I can do with my time?" Wally hissed back, his lips now inches from the phone. "You are asking me to put the life I have here at stake. I have spent _years _building up the contentment and happiness that I've managed to eke out for myself and you're expecting me to take the risk of throwing it all away and for what? A couple fancy nights at a posh motel and a trip to the penthouse?"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," insisted the female voice that spoke back in response. "For goodness sakes, please stop pretending that this is about being loyal to your wife or keeping your children under your borrowed roof. This is about you having a real shot at something better in your life but you refuse to show off the balls you would need to go grab it."

"I _like _what I have," Wally bit back through gritted teeth, the intensity of his reaction muffling the sound of footsteps looming behind him. "My wife is happy with the way things are. My children are safe. They don't need something like this to be a part of their _HEY!" _

"Hello, there!" Roy Harper all but sang into his stolen phone, the red-haired sharpshooter simultaneously tabling his amazement that he was able to sneak up on somebody who could sense kinetic energy even in the darkness of space. "Is this who I think it is and, if it is, when are we goin' out for drinks, pretty lady?"

Wally snatched the phone back in an instant but still not soon enough to prevent his longtime friend and harasser from pressing the speaker option so that the response would be available for all to hear. What came back was a throaty chuckle that seemed to flutter from the tiny aural receiver before the cultured voice behind it chose to provide a more specific rejoinder.

"Well, that would depend, my dear descendent," Scandal Savage replied, the CEO, immortal, and self-avowed lesbian maintaining her playful tone throughout. "However, you might be able to grease the metaphorical wheels by convincing the stick-in-the-mud across from you to realize how silly it is to keep declining my invitation for his family to visit Tenryu Tower."

"Oh, for the love of. . ." Roy spat back before making a failed grab for the phone that Wally pulled away well before he could reach it. "Are you serious, Marlin? Are you still really on this whole kick of yours of keeping the peanuts locked inside the coral reef?"

"Stop calling me that!" shouted Wally, the irritation now clearly evident on his sinewy countenance by the wrinkling of his forehead. "And, with all due respect, I am still going to have to decline your offer. If I'm part of the team that's sent to retrieve the data you've collected then I will go to Hong Kong, I'll attend whatever meetings I'm supposed to be at and then I'm leaving. With any luck I'll be able to get home in time for the news. . ."

"Found a daddy! Found a daddy! Found a daddy!" caroled another familiar voice as its owner ran into the room, her feet pounding against the carpet with far more noise than the stealthy display put on by her father. Of course, the complete lack of subtlety did not seem to bother Lian Harper as the rambunctious student of The Saizeru Monastery unabashedly leapt into her father's arms before giddily accepting a round of pecking kisses along her cheeks and forehead.

"Hey! I thought you were helping keep track of Brucie and Dickie's godchildren!" Roy exclaimed after briefly nuzzling his nose against his daughter's ear, his spontaneous choice of words leaving him tempted to chuckle in a manner that even his 11-year-old would find undignified.

"I was. I just wanted to say hiiiiiiiiii!" Lian exclaimed before wrapping her arms around her father's neck as she was pulled in close. "Hiiiiiiiiii!"

"Hiiiiii!" Roy parroted back in a manner much like a certain pink puffball from a popular game franchise. "All right, now do your father a favor and go round up the twins and bring them up here. I'm thinking that the combined, evil influence of Scandal, you, me, and their puppy-dog eyes might be enough to convince Father Killjoy here that he should take his wife and kids to Hong Kong."

"Okay!" replied Lian before squirming and leaping free from her father's embrace.

"Hello, Lian." the voice on the other end of the line said in an expectant greeting.

"Hi, Aunt Scandal!" Lian yelled back even as she was dashing back out the door, the coffee-skinned daughter of two infamous assassins carelessly displaying the grace and physical prowess passed down to her by her parentage as she rushed out the door.

"All right, so why does everybody think that they are suddenly invited into my room?" Wally finally squawked out once Lian was out of hearing distance. "Damn it! This is my decision to make! It's not Scandal's, it's not Lian's and it sure as hell isn't yours, Roy!"

"I do love that you got rated lower on the maturity ladder than your daughter, Roy."

"Oh, you shut up too!" Wally shouted back amidst Scandal's tickled chuckling. "Y'know, I would think that somebody who was forced by their father to kill their mother to be a little more respectful about a father trying to protect his children from violence."

"Well, we all kill the ones we love a little bit at a time, turtle dove," Scandal countered with a dramatic sigh. "Of course, my first example was a bit literal than most but I'm hoping to make that up with the violent death of the one that remains behind. And, if nobody minds me continuing to beat down this phenomenally dead horse. . ."

"I MIND!"

"Just what does the mother of these well-protected children have to say about this?" asked the leader of The Secret Six, the immortal paying as much attention to Wally's frank interruption as a speeding garbage truck would have for an oncoming stag beetle. "After all, from all the stories that Lloyd has told me, the initial reason for your coming to stay at the manor was to fulfill your late mentor's request that your family have a place to _enjoy _life. I fail to see how keeping them locked up from every little thing would fulfill that appeal in a satisfactory manner. Also, if the issue of safety is being touted as the primary point of concern than might I remind you that Wayne Manor has been infiltrated and even destroyed on far more many occasions than Tenryu Tower."

Roy raised his eyebrows and twisted his lips to an o-shape in the manner of a five-year-old child who knew that somebody else was about to get into trouble. His suspicion was proven as the color in Wally's face continued to darken until his forehead was several deeper shades of red than the speedster's hair. "Don't even _think _about bringing my promises into this!" Wally growled back with a gravely bass delivery that would have been a passable imitation of his daughter's godfather. "My wife trusts me to make the right decisions for my family and that is an honor I cherish and have promised to uphold, madam. Unlike some people, I don't abandon my promises just so that I can excuse away my quest to find another red-haired sex worker to take to bed and. . ."

A stiff punch to the cluster of nerves between Wally's left elbow and bicep was enough to allow Roy to goad his volatile friend into silence. A good thing too given that Lian was returning to the room with somewhat expected company.

"Uh, well," Roy said as he began to look over the scene at the doorway with a fair supply of mocking scrutiny. "Princess, I told you to go fetch the children. Now you were really close but. . ."

"Ah, shut the yap, Speedy," commanded Oliver Queen as he walked into the room with his adopted granddaughter in tow. "Besides, Alfred's already settled the kiddos in and I ain't about to have anybody interrupting the stuffiest interpretation of _The Cat in a Hat _this side of The Atlantic Ocean. So I'm guessing this has to do with West here getting his panties in an uproar about Scandal's invite to Hong Kong?"

"Good morning, Mister Queen," Scandal Savage spoke out from across the ocean and through the speaker of Wally's phone. "I'm guessing that you're still avidly pursuing your hobby of humiliating women in private while publically extolling your hypocritically liberal views on increasing the number of women in positions of corporate power?"

Unbeknownst to the CEO of Tenryu Enterprises, Oliver Queen had accepted her brusque challenge with a smirk despite the pathetic defiance of two ashen-faced redheads and a chuckling youth. "Well, that ain't any way to be saying hello to a fellow rogue cosmopolitan businessperson," he mentioned while calmly snatching away the phone from Wally's distracted grip. "And here I thought my actions were doin' a favor to the guilt-ridden, disingenuously conservative rugmunching community." As the goatee-adorned archer expected, his coarse words were met with a throaty chuckle.

"Well, can I at least trust you to stick that absurd goatee and the nose above it into the campaign against Mister West's decision to keep his young family under lock and key?"

Ollie brushed the fingers of his left hand through the aforementioned face fuzz. "Well, the fact of the matter is that kids these days do need some supervision," he couldn't help but point out. "I mean, you've got all these bad influences out there ready to snatch some misguided youth and drown 'em with the drugs and the alcohol and the guns. . ."

"Twaddle from trust fund babies who think themselves to be above the law. . ."

"High-minded shit from corporate big wigs who have put themselves above the law. . ."

"Enough! ENOUGH!" Wally roared as he finally got his voice back, the angry avatar of The Speed Force snatching back his phone as he did so. "This isn't a field trip! It's a mission and the only people I take orders from during those are Bruce Wayne, Lloyd, Thomas, and Richard Grayson and do you wanna know why? Because they have the good sense to leave it up to me when it comes to dealing with what is going on in _my _life!"

"Well, The Goddamn Batman is fixing to go off on his little jaunt, The Boy Blunder is nowhere in sight and the minion is busy doing his own thing," countered Ollie, the smirk on his face growing broader with every one of Wally's aggrieved facial tics. "And, given that I've been in this line of work since the both of you were in knee pants, I think it's safe to say that I'm the man in charge."

"Nuh uh! No way!" Roy shouted back with what he secretly hoped to be just a scant supply of rightful belligerence. "I already served my sentence! And, hey, I'm the only person here who has actually led a paramilitary operation that wasn't being financed by my dead parents so I think my case has a little more oomph to it than yours, O.J.!"

By now the tendons around Wally's eyeballs had extended nearly to their breaking point in an attempt to properly express his incredulity. "What? Whatwhat? Why are we arguing about this?" he asked with just enough volume to blunt Lian's knowing chuckles. "Who _cares _about who is in charge of the trip to Hong Kong! Hell! George S. Patton could come back from the dead and steer us into Pang Tang Bay and it wouldn't make any difference right now. The only thing I care about is making certain that, as far as my children are concerned, I'm not about to have anybody ordering me around!"

The situation was on the verge of exploding into an increasingly distorted argument until a distinct clearing of the throat managed to puncture through the calm before the storm. Looking back as one, the three quarreling gentleman finally drew their attention to the scolding glare being delivered to them by Kara Zor-el a fateful handful of seconds before Lian had done so.

"Ollie will be accompanying Lloyd on his investigations concerning Luthor's remaining footholds in Metropolis. Roy and Wally will join me on the trip to Hong Kong. Civilians are more than welcome to join us and we don't mind if all of you want to do a little sightseeing but you gentleman are going to stick to your assignments until we have all the information about the Metallo army that Scandal and her technicians have found for us. And, given that we now know what is expected of us as a group, I strongly recommend that we each take a bit of time away from one another. Is that clear?"

The next several seconds were soaked in silence. Well, save for the unspoken merriment that seemed to exude itself from Lian's pores.

"_Is that clear, gentlemen?" _A mumbled, triplicate reply of "yes" was offered back before Kara offered a taunting facsimile of the cheerful smile she had greeted everyone with on the day she revealed herself to the superheroes of the world. "Good!" she added before all but bouncing out and leaving the three gentlemen to whatever business was left.

* * *

Though she had never really leapt to the defense of her destination when it was set under criticism by her more mouthy compatriots, Cassandra still liked to have her wits about her as she descended into the infamous Batcave. Familiarity would have served to be her greatest ally and she found a bit of it with the faint fluttering of wings and the looming absence of all but the minimum requirement of light and externally supplied heat. She rubbed her right elbow and forearm against her left hand while keeping her wits about her in order to best respond to the more unfamiliar elements about. Her shadow crept into view thanks to the glow of the faraway supercomputers and their electronic neighbors and she comforted herself by absently wondering whether Viktor had the same kind of equipment in his own extensive chambers at Titans Tower. After all, Cyborg had made it quite clear that Batman and his team delivered more than a fair share of help in rebuilding the place after the damages done by The Sinestro Corps and Sebastian Blood (well, after Tim had all but forced him to admit it anyway). Perhaps they shared technology as well?

"This is _insane, _Bruce. And, let's face facts, given the amount of crazy crap we've put ourselves through over the years, the mere thought that I would think of something like that would prove how much of a mistake this is!"

And that, conveniently enough, brought the current Wonder Girl back to the unwanted surprises that awaited her upon stepping into The Batcave. Angrily spoken words had been bounding off the walls and passing through her ears from the moment the grandfather clock had swung shut behind her. After years of affectionately enduring Tim's murky critiques and wry one-liners, she had come to the conclusion that she would encounter much the same kind of demeanor while encroaching upon the territory of her dear friend's inspiration and mentor. The experiences of her past visits over the last several weeks had gone a long way to confirming her theories, much to Beast Boy's chagrin and Kid Devil's sarcastic sniggers, but the fact that she was encroaching upon such a hot-tempered display threatened to set off warning bells in her head.

Not to mention that it wasn't every day that you came across a woman in fishnets chanting in tongues while another woman in a leather catsuit shouted at a shrouded man in Kevlar. Even in her line of work.

"I love that you're just expecting me to just roll over and say nothing about this," Selina Kyle continued on with a cynical snarl, the smoldering, disapproving glint from her jade-green eyes making her appear to Cassie as if Catwoman was just as she her name had advertised. "You just get an invitation from some hell-dwelling fortune teller to go down to God knows what and just what are you expecting to get from this in return?"

Batman remained resolutely still, the detective seated pensively in the seat usually reserved for Noah Kuttler, his body still as stone. "I've given you the opportunity to state your case, Selina. However, that concession was allowed only because you had made the compromise of realizing that this wasn't your decision to make," he declared while rising from his seat, the wordsconcession and compromise looking as if they had set off flares in his lover's gut. "This is about something I owe. To her."

"Yeah, and I'm here to tell you on her behalf that she wouldn't want this!" Selina growled back, the unspoken demand for space only prompting the former cat burglar to stomp forward until her lips were inches from Bruce's face. "Damn it, Bruce. Look at what everybody else has seen this time! How is it different than with what happened with Jason and Vesper and Jean-Paul? You're running in with your blinders up because of this impossible dream of yours to keep everybody safe! I mean, not even Stephanie could ignore all of this!"

Batman turned about with such a crisp sharpness that it caused even Cassie to jump. The flinch that Catwoman provided out of instinct only seemed to coerce the headstrong woman to recover and hold her ground with even more tenacity.

"Don't bring her into this," The Dark Knight of Gotham City gritted out, his intense delivery only strengthening Catwoman's resolve. "I will share my war, my city, and my grief with those who care for me but this is my mistake and I will be the one to settle it."

Tense, stony seconds passed before Selina shut her eyes and let out a breath. She dragged her front teeth across her lower lip as if she needed something to take her mind off of whatever was weighing it down before she spoke again. "Then at least let me be the one to go with you! I mean, if this is about helping you save Gotham than let somebody from Gotham take care of it! And, lest we forget, there's no reason for me to be the least bit comfortable about letting some blonde-haired, West Coast teenybopper friend of Tim's be the one to watch your back!"

"You know, it's time like these when I can't help but think that my father probably never had to deal with these kinds of distractions when he was attempting to make contact with the netherworld," chimed in the previously mentioned, tongue-speaking woman in fishnets. Having been distracted by the half-playful tone, Cassie turned away from the simmering conflict to regard Zatanna Zatara as she rose to her feet. The Justice League's resident expert on magic and the supernatural made a typically dramatic show of dusting herself off and continued to look calm despite the continued pulsing of the crimson and maroon sigil still resonating at her back. "Oh, and maybe I should mention that, while you were busy arguing, the 'blonde-haired, West Coast teenybopper Tim friend' has arrived."

Feeling phenomenally ill at ease, Cassie stood up straight and tall in the face of Catwoman's skepticism, Zatanna's amusement and Batman's hastily manufactured nonchalance. However, the Teen Titan thought quickly to marshal her nerve with the experience gained from her handful of years in soothing teenage egos and settled herself down. "I'm sorry, Batman. Alfred sent me down here and I didn't want to be late. I wasn't meaning to encroach on any kind of a situation. . ."

"Not at all, Miss Sandsmark," Batman broke in while striding forward, his broad left shoulder brushing against Selina as made his way towards a filing cabinet bordering the cavern's supercomputer network. "As a matter of fact, you're just in time to help me demonstrate why you will be joining me on this journey while Miss Kyle will remain here."

Cassie's eyes widened in response, the adopted Amazon briefly wondering if she had just been asked to go a metaphorical 15 rounds against Batman's girlfriend (and the glare that Miss Kyle was shooting her way wasn't really doing anything in the ways of diminishing that possibility). She was already tossing a variety of rejoinders back and forth in her thoughts until she noticed that Batman had flung a small object at her. Deftly snaring the razor-thin projectile from the air out of instinct, she kept one eye on her possible assailant while the other examined what appeared to be a business card. At first it didn't appear to be any different than the dozens of paper titles that she would play with when her adopted father would take her to work. He would pop in every now and again between various car repairs and lunch breaks and she got a kick out of how he would chuckle when he caught her dumping out the business card jar and entertain herself by throwing the little paper pieces back into the plastic cylinder from a wide variety of creative locations.

_And where had __**that **__come from_? Cassie asked herself as she ran the tip of her right index finger along the card's smooth surface. The object was such a dark shade of red that it looked to be almost black to her eyes and the odd impression she gathered from her sense of touch made her start to suspect that she wasn't holding a mere piece of paper. She realized that the thing was radiating heat but not nearly enough to scald the flesh, much less do anything to affect her demigod-empowered constitution. Then, thinking the last instance to be a trick of the light, Wonder Girl ran her fingers along the surface once again to reveal a larger helping of minute lettering, the characters a fire-like tint of orange that would have been difficult for her to make out even if she could understand the dialect that the words originated from.

"This is an invitation," Batman said stiffly while snatching the card back from Wonder Girl's light grip. "A specific summons created with magic that I could barely begin to understand by a creature that has proven itself to be someone who could have what I want to find. And, given that it seems to be rather open to revealing its secrets to Miss Sandsmark, perhaps you'd like to see how open it is to you, Selina?"

Cassie could see Zatanna briefly stumbling forward from the back corner of her eyes but that wasn't enough to keep her from breaking her focus on the scene in front of her as Catwoman almost eagerly snatched the apparent invitation from her paramour. Several silent seconds passed, the hush only impeded upon by the fluttering of leathery wings and Zatanna's sucked-in breath, before Wonder Girl knew that something was wrong. She first heard and then smelled the sadly unmistakable sensation of the singing of human flesh and her eyes widened with alarm as the victim stubbornly refused to break away from the pain. Then, just as she was about to rush forward and put a stop to whatever was happening, Batman snatched back the card from his lover only a moment before Catwoman tightly clamped her left hand around her blistering fingers.

"Selina, The Scarmiglione Summoning is a very specific brand of unholy magic," Zatanna began, the enchantress still looking as if she was on the verge of getting up and leaving. "It is meant to serve as a passage to a particularly nasty portion of the netherworld and it can only be safely received by the people who were closest to the creature that asked for the event to happen. Even if I did allow you to go through the portal I'm creating, the supernatural backwash you would suffer from would be a body-wide magnification of what you just experienced." Having stepped forward in the midst of her explanations, the witch gently pried Catwoman's hands apart and muttered some whispered words. By the time Zatanna had turned her attention back to her childhood friend, the fresh burns looked already to be on the verge of healing. "Of course, I'm _sure_ that Bruce just wanted to help you see why you can't go with him," she added while firing a pointed glare at her father's former student.

"I didn't ask you to defend me, Zatanna," Catwoman said resentfully, her eyes seemingly determined to swerve away from the neutral gaze of her lover and ending up at her erstwhile backer. "In fact, I'm beginning to think that a lot of this wouldn't even be an issue if you hadn't been so keen on helping take Batman to the middle of nowhere."

Cassie could see the flicker on the witch's face that screamed that its owner wanted to take up the unspoken challenge but years of being an entertainer quickly transformed the anger into a flashy smirk. "Well, I've found that, when it comes to 'John', sometimes you just have to be happy with what he gives you. After all, there's nothing an escape artist hates more than not having a way to get away."

The fair-haired Teen Titan raised her golden eyebrows at that while Batman fired back at his old friend with a perturbed glare. By the time the 20-year-old managed to defuse her rising laughter in the wake of Zatanna's countering toothy grin, Catwoman had stalked forward until she was within spitting distance. _Or slashing distance_, Wonder Girl noted while making out the telltale apertures in the vigilante's gloves.

"He comes home without a scratch," Selina declared while peeling off the mask from her face, the moments where the determined former cat burglar shielded her eyes from view giving Cassandra a bit more time to ponder over the implications. "Because, if he doesn't, the next person I take my anger out on, after I get done with him, is _you_."

Having spent her adolescent years mired in the frustrations that came with environments where a lot of unstable hormones were frequently careening about, Wonder Girl had only a slight hint of trouble with maintaining a calm demeanor as Catwoman stalked past her towards the manor proper. Though having little doubt that she could handle whatever the anguished woman could throw at her, there had always been a mystique about the city and those that were connected it that demanded attention. Maybe it was all the whispered fairy tales of a normal man triumphing through odds that would have seemed to be too much for gods. _That's no way to think, Cassie. __Cecilia survived here_, she reminded herself, the thought of it emboldening her. _No, she thrived here and if she can do that then I can do that for her_.

"Looks like you've made a faaaaaan," a cheery, sing-song tone broke in, the sharp words punching Cassie out of her self-encouragement.

Tempted as she was to let out a laugh, if only to let loose of a few of her own trepidations, Wonder Girl kept her eyes on the chagrined-looking fellow in black and yellow. "Again, I wasn't meaning to cause any trouble, Mister Wayne. Still, with everything that just happened, I think I would like to know more about why I'm here."

Batman provided the first part of his response by tossing the onyx invitation back to its destined recipient. "Zatanna, if you would?" he asked calmly, his back already presented to his guest and his fingers set to fly across the nearby keyboards.

As ineffective as it was, Zatanna could not help but shoot a pointed glare at the detective's back. "Oh, that's fine, 'John'," the enchantress replied, the Justice Leaguer once again employing the false name that her childhood friend had presented to her father when Bruce had sought to be a pupil for the world's greatest escape artist. "By the way, I've been doing quite all right in the weeks that I haven't heard from you. I would have liked to thank Lloyd for all his efforts in helping bring the protective wards back up but apparently he's busy. Oh, and there's the whole matter with Kara and Wally and all the help they provided with putting the physical part of my home back together again. You'd think that somebody who would be nice enough to do such things would at least have the decency to let somebody say 'thank you'. Or at least listen in to see how they're doing. . ."

A weighted sigh eventually punched its way through Zatanna's overlong rejoinder. "No worries, 'Zanna'," Batman finally replied. "All the instant messages I've had to decrypt between you and Noah have already told me far more about your current affairs than I would ever want to know about it."

The incredulity of it all was finally enough to tempt Cassandra into laughing. As she did so, Zatanna had enough time to step forward and speak with her directly. "All right. The deal here is that the both of you have been privileged to receive an invite to enter The Lingering Den. It is an area of Hashmalamum, the capital of the demonic nexus, that is specifically reserved to serve as a storing place for the lost memories of those that have died while defending the balance and order of the supernatural aaaaand I've already lost you haven't I?"

"No, no," Cassandra insisted, the veteran heroine already feeling a bit thrown. "That's. . . that's where Sebastian Blood was working out of during all the mess with Neron, right?"

"Precisely," Zatanna replied with a smile, the witch obviously encouraged with Cassandra's quick recovery. "Anyway, we are looking at a very rare experience here. As you saw with Catwoman there, the summons can only be safely accepted by the people that held the departed soul in question with the highest faith and regard. Those that are invited to participate will undergo a trial and, should they succeed, they are supposed to 'receive what they wish to claim from those who are lost'."

Cassandra thought it was only natural that she be given some time to let the allusions set in. "And. . . I'm guessing that these trials don't exactly consist of running a marathon or reciting Hamlet's suicide soliloquy."

Zatanna replied with a gentle smile. "According to the legend, the strength and will of those that are summoned will be stretched to the breaking point. The idea is supposed to be that those who are still alive must prove that they are willing to pay the same price as those that have passed on." Realizing that she might have gone a little overboard on her inherent desire to bring the drama out of life she then added, "of course, those are two things that you seem to possess in abundance. It's only natural why Batman would be okay with taking such a risk as long as he had you watching his back."

Wonder Girl surprised herself by needing only a handful of seconds to connect the dots. While she was doing so, she felt Batman's gaze upon her and met it as best she could. She had fought side-by-side with Themyscira's ambassador, she had safely brought home the body of Cronus's guardian and she would have discouraged the faith her mentors had placed in her if she turned away from Batman's gaze.

"She was your friend," Batman replied, the words obviously containing a great deal more. "I just wanted to give you the opportunity."

Just like that, Cassandra suddenly realized where Tim had probably gotten his affection for saying so much with so ridiculously little.

"I've lost a lot of friends, Mister Wayne." The knowing bob of The Batman's head gave Cassandra all the information and motivation she needed to continue on. "Still, I wouldn't be coming back here, learning what I could about why my best friend put so much trust in you, if I didn't want to accept the consequences."

* * *

Keeping along the lines of consequences, Linda Park-West was presently regretting her decision to claim one of the spare rooms along the western wing of the manor's second floor as her personal work chamber. Granted, the prime location had frequently left her professional domicile to be first-in-line when it came to the cleaning patrols of the ever-diligent Alfred and also offered the added bonus of being the room furthest away from a certain and particularly destructive member of The Green Lantern Corps but the matter she had to deal with now was that the room was still within the house itself. So, should the love of her life ever feel the need to barge in and deluge her with a maelstrom of familiar complaints than he hardly needed his ability to identify individual bits of kinetic energy to seek her out. Thus, as the deadline to a hastily ordered column concerning the plausible guilty parties behind public political fringe movements loomed ever closer, her attempts to center her thoughts and plow forward in her chosen task continued to be interrupted.

"It's absolutely ridiculous!" Wally wore on, the tormented velocity merchant throwing his hands up in the air. "Even eighteen months after I move in to this place I'm still getting badgered with the same damn questions over and over and over. 'Wally, when are you going to let the kids come play in our death traps?' 'Wally, when are you going to let Jai poke a stick at the captive alien prisoner?' 'Wally, when are you going to teach your daughter how to shoot a gun so she can go hunt down The Joker with Batman by her side?'"

_Of course, the faults of billion-dollar corporations and the conglomerate banking capitals have long been placed on the slab for the public to consume and rave over. The heads of organizations such as General Electric, Lexcorp, and Wal-Mart helped the economic ruling class maintain its wealth by sacrificing a portion of their power to construct and find loopholes within the global and national tax codes that only a precious few would have access to, much less be aware of it in the first place. This give-and-take between the heads of commercial and political America enabled these multinational corporations to earn their "investments" back with more than enough money to spare. Chase Manhattan and Citicorp, lending companies once on the verge of absolute destruction, were saved by being given free reign over the nation's currency during the recent bailout. And, just as wise people are wont to do, they took efforts to keep the same mistakes from happening again by taking the money they received for free and lending it out to the public at the highest public interest rates seen since the days of the Carter administration. _

"Is it so wrong to believe that I should go out of my way to make sure that my children keep living the life they have right now? They're happy! They're healthy! They're being tutored by the best pre-K teachers I can find! They don't want for anything! I'm doing this right so why the hell am I still having to deal with people saying that I'm some kind of fuddy duddy because I _don't _want to put them into situations where they might get hurt!"

Linda continued to dutifully push herself forward, her coffee-colored eyes fixated upon the commentary she brought to life with the aid of her keyboard. _Of course, the simple fact that many people choose to turn away from is that it takes two to tango. The biggest reason why the banks became "too big to fail" was because too many people had invested in their survival. Look at all the surveys of people proclaiming to have overdue car loans or house notes or credit card payments because they made purchases that had no place on their present (or future) financial ledgers. Or, if you want something a little further away from the financial pages, do a quick run-by of the news stories of Black Friday shoppers injuring each other for the latest cheaply-offered but ultimately unnecessary gadget. Then, using our handy, dandy brains, let's combine that with all the surveys that say that well over half of America is in debt and try to estimate how many of those money-deprived individuals gave in to the honeyed words of the companies that they are protesting. How many people are so frantic to spend money that they can't afford to be giving away._

"I left The Speed Force because I wanted my family, my children, to live a safe and normal life. I came to Gotham, a town that I _hated_, because I wanted to fulfill my uncle's last wishes and the mere fact that I just put together 'safe' and 'Gotham' should tell you how much of a picnic that sounded like at the time but I did it! I did it because I trusted other people to look after my children when I couldn't and now those same people are continuing to get on my case about how I don't let them see enough of the world."

_Bill Clinton once grimly admitted during a 1991 political rally that "Big muscle jobs go where big muscle is the cheapest and that is no longer here" (and, given that he played such a critical role in the free trade agreements that allowed said labor to go to China in exchange for the boom in exports that had led to a bulk of the economic prosperity during his administration, he would know). However, he also stressed how important it was to stretch out the muscles between our ears and maybe it would be wise to realize that just as the American economy has been forcibly altered to meet the needs of a global economic climate, the concept of "The American Dream" must change right along with it. We are now competing against the world. . . a world that doesn't believe that having high-definition televisions, a video game system, and the latest iPhone suits the definition of poverty. Or, if I can borrow a phrase from my grandfather, a man who killed himself working three jobs for 30 years in order to pay for a home, food, and an education for his family, "Learn to trust your own hand before you start to bite the one that feeds you."_

"I have gotten TIRED of just bulling my way through what everybody else to say! I have a right to make decisions for my family! It's my family!"

_Of course, I won't deny that my perspective may change in the future when I'm tempted to join the front line between the war between the rich and the poor. After all, Lord knows there's nothing more expendable than a newspaper columnist._

Satisfied with her work (at least for now), Linda stifled the urge to sling her keyboard at her husband's head and settled for letting out a tired sigh that quickly drew Wally's attention to her. "Y'know something, Marlin? I would have thought all those times watching Disney films would have taught you that just because it was the right decision at the time doesn't make it that way all the time."

The truth that the both of them already knew seemed to knock the wind out of Wally's sails and it pained Linda to do it. She wheeled away from her work desk so that her husband could see the uncertain quivering that occasionally set into her legs when she was nervous. She wanted him to see that before she spoke again.

"We're going to go to Hong Kong and we're going to go as a family. I want my children to see the world that you're protecting so that they never have to believe that all they can do is just read about it in a story book."

Wally's jaw seized up, the young father taking a bitter swallow of what was offered. "They're already going to grow up without knowing their grandfather, Linda," he replied, his delivery caught somewhere between sadness and determination. "Why should I take the chance that they might have to live without their mother?"

"Because their _mother _is willing to take that risk," Linda resolutely answered, the Korean-American forcing herself to give in to the anger instead of the dismay. "We all take that risk every time you go to some godforsaken battlefield because you made a promise to Barry. We're the ones that are waiting and praying that you'll come back alive and maybe it is asking for too much but you can't always pick and choose what you want to shut us out from."

The Fastest Man Alive had no trouble allowing his wife to watch his every step as he strode forward and gently took her into his arms. "Garth lost his son because of a monster who was just trying to get a rise of his mentor." He unnecessarily explained, the smooth, up-and-down strokes of his left hand against Linda's back designed to soothe him just as much as the person who received them. "And Lian. . . I know she's happy but she's been through so much. For God's sakes, she spent three days holed up in some hollowed out basement of a fucking child trafficker! I mean, what is so wrong with doing everything I can to make certain that doesn't happen. I can't. . . I can't let that happen."

"I know, I know. And that's another reason why we came here. We got ourselves surrounded by the world's most powerful babysitters and they would sooner set this house on fire than see something happen to our babies." Linda felt her heart cracking as she took in the sad smile on her husband's face and resolved to tilt those straightened lips with a kiss. "We're in this together. Maybe not in the same spot as many times as we'd like to be but I'm telling you that none of us plan on going anywhere. I swear, I will beat that truth into your head until even you manage to hear it."

Linda knew that Wally would need a moment to breathe and gave it to him, the nervousness of her lover reminding her of the shy, overtalkative gentleman who needed weeks to work up the courage to ask her out. She took him in as Wally shut his eyes and nodded and that tempted her into sliding the right side of her face against her husband's left shoulder as he held her tight. Then, with the emotion of the moment still percolating, she casually whistled to coax the eavesdropping father and daughter into the room. Looking on with mild amusement, the young mother continued to supervise as Lian and Roy capered into the room without the slightest hint of shame.

"Woohoo! Time for a rooooooadtrip!" Roy hooted while sliding open the nearby closet door and pulling out a pair of relatively nice travel bags. "Well, I guess we're going by jet and we're probably not even going to be doing any driving when we get there but there we're still be roads and we will be taking a trip on them."

"I'll pack up the baby toys!" Lian shouted helpfully while dashing out of the room with another bit of luggage in tow. "Road trip! Road trip! Road trip!"

Wally found that he couldn't quite get his mouth to close until his longtime friend had dashed out of the room while whistling a somewhat warped rendition of "Band on the Run". Then, turning to the love of his life, the mother of his children, he rewarded her efforts with a disbelieving stare.

"Are you sure that we're not actually bringing four kids with us?"

* * *

_Issue #133 Preview_

As the author's dozens and dozens of fans absently ponder over the complete lack of an author's note, The Misfits wing their way to their respective destinations and whatever might be waiting for them. Superman! Scandal Savage! Lois Lane! Cassandra Cain! Professor Kdin Jenkins! Each of them have their own portion of a story to tell that will shine a brighter light on Lex Luthor's machinations and bring our beloved heroes that much closer to their grisly fate. Tune in for the details in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Pragmatic Prognosticators. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	133. Pragmatic Prognosticators

Issue #133

Pragmatic Prognosticators

_Metropolis – The Daily Planet – 7__th__ floor – 3:27 P.M. Central Standard Time_

The two gentlemen traveling about the perimeter of the recently condensed newsroom hardly gave off the impression that there was something extraordinary about them. Their suits, while clean, freshly pressed and worth more than few pennies, were wholly unimpressive in the eyes of any fashion designer. Their measured gait was subtle and unworthy of others attention and the pedestrian manner of their shop talk left the few people who were attentive or bored enough to pay attention to them convincing themselves to quickly turn away and focus on other things.

"Of course, it isn't as if this problem isn't happening all over the place," explained the taller one of the two, the hints of a Midwestern twang occasionally eking away from his lips in spite of his otherwise clear delivery. "There's still a great deal of transition still going on with the incidents of the last year but there's still a lot of problems that have sprung up that could have easily been avoided. I mean, I can't tell you how tricky it is to soothe out the wrinkles when it comes to asking some of the older guard to change their ways. Especially since so much of my work is catered to be looked at over the Internet. I mean, it isn't exactly what I was trained to do."

"Well, I suppose that you've got a legitimate beef," the shorter one reasoned, the ho-hum candor cleverly hiding the fellow's amusement. "Still, ya gotta realize that the times are just going to keep on a changin'. People want what they want now. . .especially since there's so much stuff that can do exactly what they want. It's a new world out there, Smallville. Ya either hop on the boat and get moving through the waves or stay at the shore and hope somebody's dumb enough to give you a lift."

The taller one frowned at that, his forehead crinkling as his brain worked out the careful choosing of the words to come. "This isn't just a matter of convenience, Ollie. The problem is that it's so easy to be scared by what _could_ happen that people eventually settle with what they can get instead of what they should be searching for. There's so much more that can be drawn from today's visual mediums but it still needs the right hands to guide it; somebody who is more willing to work with the people who have the actual task of changing what needs to be changed."

Ollie raised his eyebrows at that, the former mayor of Star City shooting his comrade a dubious glare. "I'm not going back to the league, Clark," the archer said bluntly, his frankness around so many wandering eyes and ears startling his company until Green Arrow presented his palms in a dismissive manner. "Quit palpitating, Boy Scout. You know as well as I do that I've had issues with operations like that since the first time I started growing my goatee. I'm not saying that you can't do something. I'm just saying you old hands and Hitler Youth would be able to get more done without me."

The frown that was fired back reflected a genuine concern to the point where even the cantekorous archer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I would venture to disagree, Oliver," Clark Kent replied with equal candor. "I recognize we've had our share of disagreements but all of us have respected what you've done and what you're willing to do to keep the world turning."

Momentarily torn between the odd struggle between annoyance and appreciation, Oliver briefly put a stop to the slow ambling around the newsroom to look his old friend in the eye. The former trust-fund millionaire felt that the genuine hero that stood alongside him deserved at least that much and a great deal more. It was Clark that had respected his dying wish for peace in the afterlife after what had felt like several eternities at war. The god standing by his side could have easily ripped his arm away from that console of the plane that had been making its deathly descent into downtown Metropolis but he had been kind enough to listen to the foolish request of a foolish man. Time may have healed more of the wounds than Ollie would have ever thought but the fact remained that Clark had chose not to act on his impulses that day because it might have been the right or "moral" thing to do. Clark Kent, Superman, Kal-El or whatever the hell anybody wanted to call him listened to a pathetic Oliver Queen because he considered him a friend.

And, being an old codger at heart if not in body, it was only right that Ollie found that such a position held quite a bit of weight.

"The world needs the kind of operation that Bruce is running. Don't pretend that you're so snowed in by this right-wing, propaganda machine you call a newspaper that you can't realize that."

Most people would have considered the harsh misery to be blinding but Clark continued to stare straight on at the provider. "And I'm going to keep working for a world where the kinds of things you're doing don't need to be done."

Under all but this circumstance, Ollie would have regarded the Pollyannaish statement as worthy of a snort at best and a contentious middle finger at worst. Still, as previously stated, Superman often had the tendency to make something that ridiculous seem possible.

"Yeah, well, how about you just go fire up an Occupy Metropolis rally with that optimistic yapping. Geez, and people accuse me of being the nutcase liberal. And you're from Kansas! They don't grow hippies. . . there?"

Curious to the sudden silence and the sight of an astonished smirk on the lips of his assigned tour guide, Ollie hastily followed Clark's eyes in his quest for answers. It wasn't long at all before he caught the sight of a young gentleman in a well-tailored, Brooks Brothers suit chatting with a somewhat older but still fetching female reporter, the sensibly dressed lady lazily holding a bouquet of fresh tulips doubtlessly bought from the hydroponic gardens on the western end of downtown Metropolis. The expert archer couldn't quite make out the words or even read the lips of the soft-spoken man but the pealing laughter expressed by the woman was clear as day and the fetching sight was enough to make it a struggle to hold in his own leer as The Last Son of Krypton made a pointed clearing of his throat. The familiar gentleman was hardly startled by the interruption, his hazel eyes allayed with just a hint of silver while the woman regarded her husband with a lazy, cat ate the canary smile.

"Oh, hello, sweetie." greeted Lois Lane-Kent before the Pulitzer Prize winning investigative reporter presented the gentleman to her left. "Don't mind me. I was just getting to know Mister Thomas better," she explained while bringing the fresh flowers close to her nostrils and taking an airy sniff. "I mean, I usually wouldn't be so forward with such a guy but there just seemed something. . . familiar about him," she continued on while moving to place her gift within a nearby vase. "Can't quite put my finger on it."

_Oh, I'm sure you can't_, Clark thought while extending a hand towards the half-demon, the taciturn champion finally noticing the thin bits of hesitance in the younger man's mannerisms when The Black Dog briefly lowered his eyes before firmly shaking his hand. "I'm glad we could finally meet, Mister Thomas. I've heard a lot about you and I know that there's a lot to discuss."

"Well, um, indeed there is," Lloyd replied, the hesitance almost instantly drawing a reproachful glare from Lois that prompted Clark to at least _try _to diminish his silent critique. "As my boss probably told you, whatever locations Luthor is using to begin his new operations probably sprang up from here. My thanks for taking the time out of your schedule for helping us investigate."

Clark's lantern jaw stiffened slightly at the ease with which the magician expressed his gratitude, the unwitting counterattack throwing a metaphorical monkey wrench into his attempt to curve his feelings of déjà vu. "Oh, it's not a problem at all. Still, I would say that the matter of Luthor's newfound assistant was the first thing that drew my attention. To think that an isolated community like Themyscira, with all their history, could be infiltrated to such an extent . . ."

"Well, those kind of things can happen when you're used to being isolated. After all, a beaten-down dog can get jumpy when they have a chance to bite back at the ones that struck them."

Lois's decidedly unflattering metaphor lured in a varied array of responses ranging from blank neutrality (Lloyd) to mild amusement (Oliver) to pointed disappointment (her husband) but the hotshot reporter weathered each of the summoned obstacles with a familiar grace. "Still, I've looked at the prospective cost figures behind the kind of work that was put into Corben. As good as Luthor can be at hiding things, I'm already starting to guess that the capital and resources needed for an operation like this, especially if Bruce is right about it being nothing more than a tell."

"Hey, hey, hey," Ollie butted in, the startled fellow drawing the others in close with his own hunched posture. "You sure we should just be gabbin' about stuff like this in a place like this? I mean, I'm all for an open door policy but this is pretty big."

"Oh, go flirt with an intern, Woodward and Bernstein," Lois fired back with a snarl. "Even if there were people listening in then the only person who's said anything that could sound suspicious was you. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, we're just discussing the doubtlessly illegal attempts of a disgraced businessman and politician to put himself back into limelight. It's only natural that this is something that is worth a little bit of looking into."

"And that's what we're here to do," Lloyd reminded those around him, The Misfits' second-in-command shooting an unnecessary glare of caution to his elder subordinate. "And, given that both Ollie and I are in relatively unfamiliar territory, I think it would only be fair if the both of us had a guide. Perhaps Ollie can reacquaint with his old running buddy while I take the lady out for a night on the town?"

Lois let out a snort yet it wasn't for the reason written on the surface. As confident as Kara's paramour was trying to sound, there was an endearing kind of fretful graciousness that slithered through the man's actions that allowed her to easily forgive the broadcast lie. "Well, contrary to both the headlines and popular opinion, I can usually take good care of myself," she replied quietly but with overriding certainty. "So how about you just leave me with Oliver while you two strapping gentlemen take a look at the grimier portions of Metropolis?"

Ollie crossed his arms over his chest, the corners of his eyes focused on Clark and Lloyd as they looked at one another while silently considering the possibilities. "What? I can't be a strapping gentleman?" the roguish vigilante asked, the expert combatant knowing what Lois was trying to do and enjoying every moment of it.

"Ollie, I'll just be thankful if you can go through the night without trying to show me your tighty whities," Lois primly replied, the cool rejoinder earning her a sneer from Ollie while the other half of their company continued to peruse the possibilities. "All right. Get out of here, you two. Colonel Lane's orders."

Clark raised his eyebrows at the pointed command while swallowing his last hints of trepidation. "Well, I suppose we should get going then."

Lloyd managed to earn hints of respect from both Lois and Oliver by refusing to shy away. "Fine by me. You'll stay in touch then, Queen?"

"Through the usual channels," Ollie replied with a casual wave just a moment before Clark and Lloyd walked off in the other direction. He watched the two raven-haired champions for a moment longer, if only to enjoy the moment more.

"Christ almighty," Lois said with soft astonishment as she rose to her feet, her smooth strides soon bringing her to Ollie's left. "I mean, yeah, the eye color is different and some of the mannerisms are still a little off but. . . Jeez."

"What did I tell ya?" Ollie casually asked back, the veteran of the battlefield enjoying his comrade's stupefaction. "Bettin' your hunky boy scout must think that he's trapped in a time warp."

"Well, he's not the only one," Lois affirmed, her usually amusing memories of another sharply-dressed visitor from Gotham lifting her thoughts for a moment before she fluttered her eyes to clear the neural cobwebs. "All right. Shall we get to work then?" Turning to face her self-assigned company, the reporter was met with a suspiciously scrutinizing stare.

"What?"

Ollie tilted his head first to one side then the other. "Sorry, Lois. Just wondering how you got so old is all."

Lois had no qualms with slapping her husband's longtime colleague on the tender part of his shoulder. "Well, excuse me for not being able to return from the grave."

* * *

_Hong Kong – Tenryu Tower – 8:22 A.M. East Asian Standard Time_

Dressed to the nines in a black business suit with a stuffy, navy undershirt that did little to embellish the athletic but womanly figure that lay underneath the thousand-dollar attire, Scandal Savage stepped off the executive elevator upon its arrival on the ground floor. The flats of her dress shoes were given a brief handful of seconds to clap against the marble floor before their owner's personal space was pointedly invaded. Noting that her bodyguard was making no effort to protect her, the veteran fighter braced herself for the impact by extending her arms and flexing her forearms, her fingers tensed and knees bent. Though an overlong defensive measure to be sure, the maneuver left her with the advantage of presenting a smaller target and offered the best chance for her to ensnare the onrushing figure before it could knock her on her ass and potentially present a scene that some of her more critical subordinates could have taken to be a sign of personal weakness. It was an instinctual lesson that both her real and adopted fathers had labored to drill into her synapses but even those decidedly contrasting schools of coaching were not enough to prevent the immortal from giving in to temptation as she bundled her assailant with an affectionate embrace.

"Hi, Aunt Scandal!" Lian Harper crowed, the volume behind the youth's shout just barely short of forcing a wince from the leader of The Secret Six. "Hi, Aunt Cass!"

Cassandra Cain, the previously mentioned inert bodyguard of Tenryu Enterprises' CEO, responded with a slight nod that seemed to lie right in the center mass of her emotional wheelhouse. Still, as appropriate as the gesture might have been, the daughter of international criminal David Cain and the current Batgirl couldn't help but let a minute smile creep along her thin lips. "Good morning, Lian," she curtly replied. "You run faster and leap higher than the last time you did this."

"Well, that's just the way for the womenfolk _and _the menfolk in the Harper bloodline," announced Roy as he sauntered up the stairwell that his daughter had just dashed up. Keeping to the tradition of putting on a predictable but entertaining show, the sharpshooter had no problem with admiring Batgirl's slender frame despite the obstacle of a stylish but secretive ensemble that closely resembled that of her boss. "And trust me when I say that we only get better with age."

Cassandra's black eyes quickly zeroed in on her apparent suitor, a fellow almost a decade older than her. "Still seems like things don't change to me," she reported, her still relative inexperience with the spoken word making her announcement sounding clipped and critical. "You still loud about yourself and waste too much motion. Not good things in what's on your mind."

"All right, that's enough, Don Juan," cautioned another figure as she made her way to the apex of the central stairwell, her soft attire of a sweater and slacks doing little to interfere with the authority she placed in warning Roy back. Her first duty as an active leader done, Kara allowed Scandal the time to adjust her human cargo before giving the corporate leader a warm nod of her head. "It's been far too long, Scandal. Still, I think it might benefit all of us if we got our work out of the way as soon as we could."

"I, _ahh_, couldn't agree more," Scandal replied, the brief grunt escaping from her lips as she attempted to properly hoist her 85-pound distant descendant onto her right arm and shoulder. "Good Lord, Lian. You're like a weed," she added amidst the tangling of limbs and the chuckles from the girl in her arms as she turned about and entered the elevator. The rest of the entourage, including Wally and his family, were closely behind and soon the lushly decorated compartment was nearly filled to the brim with bustling human bodies. For her part, the daughter of Vandal Savage ran the tip of her tongue against her upper incisors to dull out the irritation of her elbow being forced to rub against the black marble interior but it wasn't at all long before she returned to the task at hand.

"All right, so here's what we've got so far. Fries and his subordinates have been examining the android since the moment you brought it in, Kara. We haven't had the time to find all the answers we're looking for as it goes to the exact components of the physical frame but all the theories that Batman has bounced forward have hit fairly close to the mark. The alloys are certainly some stern stuff but not quite as dense as the pure duranium that the original Metallo was outfitted with. Still, the simple fact that Luthor would have this kind of weapon in his arsenal, something he could easily dispose of no less, certainly calls into question how he managed to summon up that much material without drawing attention to himself."

"Well, then it's a good thing we're looking into that matter as well," Kara confessed, her own five-foot-eleven, 135 pound frame confined as it was between Cassandra and Roy. "And, quite frankly, I won't deny that I'm waiting to get a few answers because if a pot shooter like Lex Luthor was willing to stay underground for this long before finally making himself known then he must have had a damn good reason to do so."

"Let's not forget that the guy likes to do his talking while he's hiding behind something big and burly," Wally couldn't help but throw in, the speedster apparently acclimating to his own enclosed area by looking upward. "He's smart enough to know what he's going to be up against if he wants to start a war. Now it's up to us to figure out what we're dealing with here. . ." Letting out a sigh, the young father scratched the back of his right ear before his frustration finally got the better of him. "All right, please tell me I'm not the only one who realizes that somebody is on the roof of this elevator."

"It's Merkel," Kara said dully, the half-Praxian not the least bit surprised thanks to the blessings of her hypersensitive hearing and smell. "Well, I guess this is a less awkward introduction than when he was hanging on the roof of my bedroom."

The sudden sliding open of the elevator's emergency hatch briefly set Scandal into a startle before she ultimately gave in to a well-known frustration as an opera-glove clad hand came into view, the spindly fingers deftly holding the metal plate aloft to prevent it from falling on the passengers below. After the covering was safely disposed of, the hand emerged once more along with, in order, an arm garbed within a yellow-and-black checkered poet shirt, a left knee bent hideously within the comfy confines of overlarge black dress slacks, and a white, featureless mask which hid the scarred visage of The Secret Six's resident dandy man.

"Funny man!" Jai burbled, the coffee-colored youngster leaping and stretching his arms in a vain attempt to get a hold of the familiar figure. For his kindly recognition, the youngest member of the West clan received a cheery wave from Ragdoll as he continued to cling, upside-down, to the roof of the metal compartment.

"Well, I do try my best to entertain," Peter Merkel Jr. unabashedly confessed, the cybernetic joints within his left arm enabling the skeletal contortionist to support his weight despite the phenomenally awkward conditions. Then, seeing another potential devotee, he twisted his neck at a nearly 160 degree angle to lock eyes with another person he could possibly entertain. "Ah, and here is the young maiden," he cooed, the limitations of his mask preventing the murderer from noticing his target before then. "Perchance time has been enough to chisel through the heart of our stone-faced charmer?"

Iris West, in the ripe, broody tradition of her godfather, continued to regard the overt display with unyielding nonchalance. In fact, it was hard to say whether it was Merkel or the girl's father who was more disturbed by the display until it was brought to a halt when Wally picked up his daughter and forced her sights away while Scandal let out a sigh.

"You just couldn't wait until we got to the top floor, Peter? You just _had _to make a scene and yet you keep complaining about all the release forms you have to sign before we let you leave the building unsupervised."

Ragdoll shrugged his shoulders (no small feat considering that he was upside down and holding himself aloft with one arm). "I'm terribly sorry but I just couldn't help myself. All the hope and anticipation that has been building up since my troupe's triumphant practice performance of Little Red Riding Hood made me deathly curious as to just who my audience would be."

Scandal rolled her olive-colored eyes, the veteran of the both the boardroom and the battlefield already well-versed with how to deal with this particular thorn in her side. "At least tell me that you managed to get all the monkey hair off of my carpet."

"Ah, yes. The cleaners are already finishing things up," Merkel replied, his spare hand waving about in a dismissive manner as if its owner couldn't believe that he had to deal with such trifling affairs. "Must I continue to wait in the elevator shaft? The scents of grease and rotting rodent corpses are usually quite enticing but I'm currently working with an empty stomach and am starting to feel ravenous."

The elevator's arrival at its destination tabled the argument before it could start, the sliding doors finally freeing not only the trapped passengers but also their unexpected interloper. Ragdoll could plummeted down to join the growing group as soon as he could but even that somewhat disturbing distraction was not enough to keep Wally from meeting his reservations straight on by taking in the other scenes surrounding him. There was an orange-skinned female demon in a purple velour business suit passing by the entourage with a bundle of paperwork in hand. Another hell beast, a Fyarl if Wally remembered Lloyd's lessons properly, strolling towards them with a leather dossier that he calmly handled to Scandal who just as coolly perused over the contents.

"Good Cthulu, I did not need to deal with this on a Thursday," the CEO grumbled and groused as she fumbled for the pen in her front pocket. "Kthl'tik, I thought I had told you that we were only going to reserve the southwestern corner of the lobby for the ritual! Why are they suddenly popping up in half the lobby and spilling out into the east wing? The representatives of the Pakistani zombie cult specifically asked for privacy!"

Wally could only blink to express his disbelief as the Fyarl responded with a series of guttural grunts. Perhaps it was a good thing that the speedster was already on emotional overload as Cassandra Cain strolled forward and handed Scandal her own pen before turning her attentions towards the bustling demon.

"He say the ritual is not safe if not enough room," the current Batgirl reported. "Says he's sorry but there's only so much he can do."

"Woah, back up here! Since when did you speak Fyarl?" Roy asked both for himself and his emotionally comatose colleague.

"I read things," Cassandra answered, as if that and a careless shrug of her shoulders could pass for a suitable explanation. She then continued to dutifully stand at Scandal's side as the executive mercenary continued to hash out the details concerning whatever the blue-skinned demons with the polyester robes were doing in the expansive lobby with a pentagram, a box of salt, and a live elephant.

"I can't imagine that this is part of the normal press tour," Linda Park-West slowly pointed out, the journalist not yet certain if she wanted to go with wry wit or stunned disbelief before finally settling on what she thought to be a decent medium.

"No, it's just another reminder of how much I didn't know about what I was getting myself into when I signed on for this gig," Scandal harshly admitted while scrawling out a signature on the back sheet of the dossier before clamping it shut and handing it back to her demonic secretary. "I mean, I was going in and out of this place for years but I _never _really realized just how many footholds this place had. I mean, it's not just human commercial centers but the demon capitals and all the potholes and go-betweens in between."

"Elefant," Iris West dourly pointed out, the pale-skinned toddler calmly giving the brawny pachyderm an honest onceover until her mother eventually cajoled her into following along with the rest of the procession.

"Pardon me if I sound as uninformed as I actually am about this," Linda began while skimming her hands through her daughter's red hair as a reward for her impressive elocution, "but just how much money and power can be found in these demon communities? And, if it's as much as I'm beginning to think it is, exactly how is it all covered up so well? I mean, _I _never came close to learning about anything like this back during my investigative journalism days!"

"Well, first off, it's not as if the money that comes in from Hashmalamum or Arashnahof can come close to matching up the transactions we do with Beijing or New York. . . or even the biggest trading operations on Karbarra or Rann for that matter," Scandal said matter-of-factly while continuing to guide her group through the twists and turns of the tower's top floor. "Still, this usually is old money we're dealing with. Wealth that was around before humanity had convinced itself that they had thought up the idea of paper currency. Anything that hasn't already been transitioned over to current currencies has been entrenched so deeply into the economic earth that present-day media outlets would have no idea where to begin looking for it."

Scandal found herself bobbing her head in time with her steps. Then, realizing how such an expression of freedom could have been construed as unprofessional, she went back to keeping her motions to a minimum as they approached the double doors that separated her secretary's office from the general floor. "And, even if they did, what exactly are you going to tell them? 'This is Linda Park-West of _The Gotham Times _reporting on the discovery of a treasure trove of Kornithian goat hides that the three-horned Eamolarg says is worth a couple million dollars?' No, the fact is that the demons who still want to play around in the stomping grounds of their descendents know enough to realize that they don't have the numbers or the footholds to safely stick too much of their heads out of the ground."

"Else their neighbor chop it off for them," Cassandra added, the statement earning a nod from her auburn-haired leader. "The demons like what places they have. They want to keep it."

Given that she had been both silent throughout the conversation (unlike Linda) and had no problem resisting the urge to look at Cassandra Cain's slightly swaying backside (unlike Roy), Kara had been available to notice that another member of their party still looked more than a little shell-shocked. Holding off on following the company as they made their way into Scandal's office, the young lieutenant turned to face Wally and, upon pulling in his detached stare, gave him what she hoped to be a kindly and knowing smile.

"Just relax, Marlin. I'll make sure the kids get home from daycare safe and sound."

Finally letting out a stored up breath, the young father let more of his silent frustration eke out with a grimace that kept Kara smiling.

* * *

Bruce Wayne and Cassandra Sandsmark arrived in The Lingering Den with both a bang and a whimper. The former arose from the last hints of Zatanna's chanting that summoned a miniature maelstrom that had quickly enveloped the both of them before seemingly exploding from the inside out and taking them with it. However, when their senses were delivered back to them by their cerebral cortexes, both Batman and Wonder Girl hastily came to recognize that no physical harm had come to them despite what their instincts might have had to say.

However it was the source point of the latter that called for a bit more attention in the present time. As they fully manifested within their bizarrely familiar destination, their ears were lightly set upon by wisps of sniveling. It didn't quite sound staged but there was something about the inscrutable whispers that added something bewildering to the already confusing scene. And, if that quiet grousing wasn't enough, the man behind The Batman was soon beset by the grumblings of his comrade.

"Really? REALLY?" Cassandra barked out while giving a critical examination of her apparent options in attire. A sharp scowl marring her slightly glossed lips, her sharp blue eyes were razor thin as she "admired" the black-and-green checkered skirt that she guessed would still be a bitch to adjust while sitting down (and don't think that those lecherous old professors know _that _when they were arranging the dress code). She then stretched her neck upward to properly examine the griffon stitched over the chest pocket of her black vest. The design of the mythological creature still looked quite tacky, doubly so after the years she had been able to see griffons and other mystical wonders up close and personal and only added to the starchy discomfort of the white buttoned shirt that lay underneath. "Damn it, Cissie. I thought I told you that I was done with short skirts and knee socks."

Bruce wisely turned away from his youthful compatriot as Cassandra continued to tug at those aforementioned garments. "Now, now. We were warned that something like this might happen," he cautioned, the orphaned billionaire recapped while regarding the classroom doors and alarm bells that bridged the gaps between the lines of lockers. "This is most likely just a reinterpretation of one of Cecilia's more noteworthy memories. And, given that the both of you were students at The Elias Academy. . ."

"Oh, I'd say it's more than just a theory," Cassandra replied before she could push the words back into her mouth. Clamping her right hand over her traitorous lips as her blue eyes went wide, she tried her best to look guilty as Bruce turned to stare at her. As he did so, his Elias boy's uniform of black slacks, a white Polo shirt and a red and golden tie was presented to her, the ridiculous ensemble looking far better on the middle-aged vigilante than it had for any of her fellow graduates. "Well, it's just. . . Y'know. . . she told me about that whole 'handing over the diploma thing' you did. . . and that whole thing about drawing from our memories. . . you know?"

Bruce let out a grumble specifically designed to point out that the present topic of conversation had run its course. "Needless to say, this trip to Elias will most likely not have the least bit to do with recess and trigonometry lessons. This is a trial designed to test the limits of the living. Remain on your guard, Wonder Girl."

_Man, no wonder Diana was always so hung up on this guy. I mean, it's not like he's muscles on top of muscles. He just really looks like. . . a warrior. All the scars. . ._

"I cannot believe that Cecilia would willingly put us in danger but the fact of the matter is that some of the rules that reign here were not hers to control. She wasn't trying to harm us with whatever we come across. She believed that we would be able to get through this so that's what we're going to do."

_I wonder if Tim will look like that 20 years from now. He __**is **__always following those ridiculous, hours-long training regiments that he plasters all over his little cave. Of course, they may not be biologically related but physiology does begat physiology. If he can grow a few more inches. . ._

Shaking away the cobwebs, Cassandra yanked free the sword that she had borrowed from Bruce's personal collection from the scabbard strapped to her waist. As she ruminated over the fact that she had apparently been allowed to bring her blade while her sensible wardrobe had been sadly left behind, her onceover of the weapon suggested that something was off and a quick glimpse of the bottom of the hilt confirmed it. "Oh, sweet Hera," she mumbled in revulsion as she went eye-to-kitsch with the tacky insignia that was now emblazoned on the steel pommel. It was a tiny bow and arrow flanked by an even tinier skirt and Wonder Girl quickly remembered the fretful times when Cecilia's mother was attempting to license the emblem out to restaurant chains and local talent agencies in order to get her daughter's foot (and subsequently her own foot) into the door of Jump City's advertising budget.

"Actually I was more interested in the lasso," Bruce broke in, the detective sounding the slightest bit distracted as he continued to examine his surroundings. This prompted Cassandra to reach for her golden lasso passed down to her from Ares and discovered that it was still right where it belonged, slung to her right hip. Uncoiling the leather cord that bound the rope tight, she checked it over as it began to unspool and began searching for inconsistencies.

"No, no. Everything seems fine here," Cassandra replied, the demigod already feeling the hum of mystic lightning imbued within the rope. "No mysterious black marks or fast food logos or. . ."

"That's not what I meant," Bruce countered flatly, his dull baritone undercut by a thicker wave of ambient groans.

_BRIIIIIIING!_

Cassie felt herself jumping at the sharpness of the bells ringing over their heads. A more impatient part of her was briefly tempted to fly up and smash each and every one of the copper timers to bits but she couldn't ignore the hairs on the back of her neck raising up and her gut chilling up. The doors that surrounded them slowly opened and students began to lurch and slouch their way through into the monotony, the knee skirts and poorly fixed ties and hopelessness and youthful energy already bounding off the bricks and bodies. The ones in front were quick to zero in on the two intruders and the recognition seemed to bring about an unspoken call to the dozens upon dozens who followed behind them. The pace of the processions grew quickly into a mad rush and proceeded to an even faster tempo as Cassandra swept Bruce into her arms and took wing down the less sparsely populated side of the hallway with desperately clutching hands and teeth passing beneath them.

Believing she needed some room in order to test a theory, Cassandra waited until she had made several sharp turns and arrived at the narrow halls that bordered the school gymnasium before finally attempting to slowly lift both her and her human cargo towards the low roof. The cautious approach was a wise maneuver indeed as it allowed her to sense the crackle of supernatural energy singing into her face and hair as she came within inches of the potential escape route. Giving herself some time to stop and think, the current Wonder Girl allowed Bruce to break free from her grip before joining the detective on the ground just a meter-and-a-half below, the fair-haired Teen Titan returning her borrowed sword to its scabbard while keeping her eyes on the oncoming horde.

"We still don't know what we're going to be up against," reminded the master strategist. "Let's see if we can find a way to conserve our resources until we know that we're at the real test."

Despite the fact that she saw the wisdom of the strategy, Cassie couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. "And by that you mean I do the heavy lifting while you hang back and keep your toys in the utility belt?" Upon receiving a reproachful glare that was only a slight few degrees warmer than the murderous looks of the dozens of minions heading their way she added, "Hey, at least you let me figure this out on my own. Tim usually just goes straight to the yelling."

Not leaving The Batman with any time to respond, the daughter of Zeus surged forward just as the homicidal herd came within 20 yards of her all-too-human accomplice. Her golden lasso glittering in her tightly clenched fists, she put on another burst of speed so that she could make a series of quick turns around the first set of foes. Her mystic lariat was soon wound around at least a dozen of their apparent foes before she made a familiar, unspoken command that sent a surge of electrical energy pouring through the god-woven thread. The supernatural jolt was enough to stun the great majority of those within the loop and cause just as many to tumble over from the agony but even that proved to be of little concern to the horde that lumbered on and around their fallen brethren. The half-second Cassandra needed to tug her rope free from the mess of humanity was enough to allow the determined wave of flesh to descend upon her, greedy hands attempting to tear into her face while others employed their slow but powerful fists to batter her about the neck and shoulders. Pushing aside a dozen or so with her own impressive strength, she struggled to keep herself free by pushing herself into a bull rush that rendered the white-painted bricks in front of her into dust and shards of brick as she pushed herself and the three minions holding onto her through the wall with many more soon to follow.

Momentarily weighing his dismal options, Bruce cast aside his vest in order to have easier access to his utility belt. Priming a cylindrical projectile into readiness, he covered his eyes as he launched the weapon in front of the oncoming flock. The flash bomb detonated on impact with the immaculately polished tile, the cacophony of light and noise buying him a bit more time until those that hadn't taken the brunt of the impact was able to shamble around those that were still leering. A glue bomb bought another handful of seconds that he could have used to sprint down the other side of the corridor but the guilt at having already put a good person in danger was enough to keep him rooted to his spot.

"I knew I was right in my thinking that Dick should have just had a private tutor," Bruce noted aloud while planting the ball of his left foot and whirling clockwise to strike the first student to come after him with a roundhouse kick to the side of the neck. It felt as if he was hitting a brick wall but the precise placement of his attack helped cushion the blow and was still forceful enough to send the young man stumbling into two others. He broke into a sprint as soon as he could get his feet planted, his sharp mind already mapping out the best way he could get to Cassandra but it was his body to receive the rude awakening as one of the adolescent beastlings rushed to catch him. He was brought down by the shins, the flying tackle making him feel as if his knees were clamped together by a vice until he could feel the blood being cut off to the connecting tendons.

He managed to shake away his captor with a sideways roll but a half-dozen more were already upon him. Deprived of his battle armor and bereft of a demigod's constitution, the martial artist master was soon forced to succumb to the barrage of painful kicks to his legs and torso. A harsh stomp brought about the crisp _snap _of a rib and the instinctive lurch only prompted the broken bone to roughly slide against the soft muscle around his upper intestine and dig in deep. Bruce felt the bile rising into his throat as three more clambered on top of him and a raven-haired female greedily leaning towards his neck, her rotted teeth bared.

_BRIIIIIIIING!_

Bruce took in grateful gasps of air as each of his prospective murderers stood up slowly, their temporarily frenetic pace once again docile as they all turned about and began to shamble down the other side of the hall. Spitting out a thick globule of bright blood and mucus, he continued to silently witness the peculiar phenomenon even as his body struggled to put its own house back to order. He soon heard the opening of doors in the distance and observed some of the shambling, adolescent flock making their way into the classrooms that bordered the turn into the main corridors. The sound of dress shoes striking the polished tile were bouncing off the walls like the work of a well-organized drum line and put his temples to throbbing.

"And what was that supposed to be?"

"I'd say it was about seven minutes," a familiar voice shouted back in response to Bruce's directionless question. The owner of it soon poked her head out of the giant hole in the wall, her clothes tattered and torn though her body was in far better shape than her vulnerable comrade. "It was the time we had to get between classes at Elias. I don't think Cissie ever liked the extra time since it just meant more time to have to listen to people she didn't like."

Bruce couldn't help but ponder over that. The fact of the matter was that his former patrol partner hadn't been very privy on discussing her school life and he had always thought the whole history of it to be unnecessary. "I. . . thought that she liked it here," he replied, his thoughts venturing forth. "She said she was happy here."

"Well, yeah. I mean, when you compare it to hours of archery and being schlepped around to talent agent to talent agent, I guess even school can look good." Cassandra's lips twisted into a frown, the adopted Amazon looking on with concern at the injured state of her companion. "Everybody knew that the only reason Cissie got into Elias was because she was an athlete. Her mother didn't have the money to pay the tuition on her own and there were a lot of people who circled around that fact and struck. They made fun of her mother, they made fun of how she couldn't afford all the nice things that went with the uniform and they made fun of her because she always tried to fight back."

"That's because Cecilia wasn't a quitter," Bruce said sternly, the half-stride forward he took forcing a wince from him as his lungs strained to express the state of its frayed connections. "She was better than all of that garbage."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Cassandra countered glumly. "Either way, that doesn't mean that it still didn't hurt her." Still feeling a bit discombobulated from the moments before, she didn't seek to add anything to her rejoinder even as she heard the sound of more footsteps. Turning around and looking down the long corridor, her mind quickly leapt to some plausible conclusions and she responded with a cringe of her own. "And it looks like we're in trouble now since I'm guessing we're late for class."

Not knowing where to even begin to properly respond to that, Bruce tried his best not to look dumbfounded as a haggard-looking woman with flyaway gray hair approached. Not a hint of her seemed to indicate that she was about to attack but both the environment and the unexpectedness of the previous events put the detective deeply enough on his guard to reach for a bladed Batarang stuffed in the side pocket of his utility belt.

"I would like to believe that the both of you knew enough to get to your class on time," the old woman said with a polished and refined candor, seemingly unperturbed of the possible threat on her life. "However, here we three truants all stand in places we should not be so therefore I will escort you to your classrooms myself."

* * *

_Hong Kong – Top floor of __ong Kong – Tenryu Tenry Tenryu Tower __Tenryu Tower – 9:03 A.M. East Asian Standard Time_

The table had been considered to be one of the crowning achievements of modern Chinese corporate decorations, a dense but smooth slab of oak that had gone extinct in the western provinces thanks to the continued expansion of industrial plants and connecting commercial residences. It was polished daily until its surface had a lustrous shine as had been requested by its late owner, the effort just another way to allow the meeting spot to serve as a reflection of society's triumph through tenacity. Simply put, Mao Tenryu wanted this prize possession of his to tell whoever sat at that table, despite their origins or the path that brought them to that very spot, could achieve what they wished with enough labor and toil. It was a message that had struck close to Scandal's heart after her violent eviction from the house of her father and she had made certain that no expense was spared to repair the 20-foot-long slab despite the damage done to it in the destruction of the tower during the battle between The Black Dog and The Silver Coyote. The original material no longer available, thick stumps of shaved redwood were employed to support the table's hefty corners. The slight difference in coloring was noticeable if one was paying close enough attention but those who sat at the table in the present time had no time to give it thought as Scandal finished her walk to the head of the table and took her seat.

"I would like to apologize for the delay from the itinerary," the CEO began, the young immortal looking far more comfortable with her post than when she had inherited it nearly twelve months before. "That being said, I suppose we can begin with making a quick appraisal of what we've all come to agree upon. It is clear that Lex Luthor has managed to discover a method with which to produce a wide array of androids that sport abilities that are only slightly less than that of John Corben, the original Metallo. The question we must deal with is how he and his associates managed to bring together the material and processes necessary to bring about the creation of these machines, particularly given that they did so while remaining away from the eyes of global military and espionage operations whose very job is to observe such rapid shifts in military technology."

Kara could easily hear the thrum in the back of Roy's throat that indicated that her colleague was ready to jump in but another flicker of a noise prompted the half-Kryptonian to stay Arsenal's hand. Turning her attention to the double doors to the east, her crystalline blue eyes flickered as the doors were opened wide. A man shriveled both by time and physical strain made his way inside with grace that wouldn't have been possible if not for the arctic-blue suit of armor that had been augmented and conditioned to the point where the person inside could stand even the chill of outer space. His soft steps contrasting sharply with the clomping of his heavy boots, the expert cryogeneticist and engineer made his way to an internal outcropping on the western side of the conference room that had been designed to meet the needs of large extraterrestrial creatures or demon spawn.

"And here is the man from whom I was looking to clear things up from here," Scandal went on as the former criminal mastermind known as Mister Freeze continued his sure but plodding journey. "As you all know, Mister Wayne and I have placed Victor in charge of examining the carapace that Batman and Black Canary were kind enough to provide fresh off the battlefield. Given his expertise in many of the areas that would be required to solve this puzzle, I concluded that he was the best choice for the job."

"You have my thanks for the vote of confidence and my apologies for being late," Fries replied, the slight hints of electronic feedback that rumbled from his armor's speakers only intensifying the old man's unruffled candor. He looked briefly at Kara, the closest representative of the man he had been expecting to see at the meeting and gave the young woman a respectful glance. "I trust that all of you have heard enough of the principal facts in this matter but I must ask all of you to listen for a little while longer. We have discovered that the frames and power supplies of these 'Metallos', as we are calling them, are less sturdy than their original not just in the matter of physical potency but also in terms of sustaining the health of its human link."

Kara frowned sharply at this, the grim news hardly surprising her but still poking at her plentiful supply of bottled-in anger. "So it is just like I suspected. Luthor's using these military veterans like his own little army of guinea pigs."

"Willingness is not the issue that needs to be discussed," Fries countered, the old man looking somewhat chagrined by the appearance of wasted time. "The kryptonite core that was employed to power the metallic carapace of Colonel Henrik Jannsen allowed for feats of great physical strength at the cost of a rapid breakdown of the flesh-and-blood connections that remain within the central nervous system. Judging from the sample data I was able to garner from the provided subject, I would estimate that while the vast degree of the radiation is intercepted by the metallic body the consistent exposure eventually seeps its way into what remains of the human donor."

The towering man gave a brief nod to one of the scientists that had walked in with him and that gesture was quickly followed by the lights lowering and a still video image appearing on the wall screen to Fries's left. Procuring a remote control from a compartment along his left gauntlet, the powerhouse of The Secret Six brought the recording to life with the press of a button and prompted the others to look on. It appeared to be nothing more than various microorganisms jostling about, some shrinking and some expanding, but Fries looked more than ready to tell the larger side of the story.

"What you see now is footage provided by a nanoimaging device implanted within the perimeter of Janssen's cerebral cortex, a portion of the brain that is not affected by the automation transformation, accelerated to two hundred times regular speed. As the radiation from the kryptonite continues to pervade the subject's cellular structure, the body is subject to intense deterioration starting at where the flesh and blood has the most control. Naturally, since the Metallos are designed to focus upon enhancing the subject's physical strength and speed, the central nervous system receives the least protection from the armor and thus is the first part of the body to suffer the consequences."

Momentarily turning his attention toward the screen, Fries allowed the others to look on silently as the once-plentiful supply of neurons had shriveled down to a slight fraction of what had been there at the start. Frayed dendrites and other snapped connections provided a bit of morbid color within the otherwise desolate cognitive landscape yet the scientist remained quite impassive as he paused the recording with another press of the button.

"As you can see from the time code, this image was taken nearly three hours before now and six hours before Colonel Jannsen's death. We were unable to return him to consciousness despite the removal of the kryptonite core and a continuous supplementation of the same fusion-spawned electricity that is employed to power my own armor. The radiation had dug in far too deeply even for the android body to sustain the human attached to it and the severe degree of seepage and backwash makes it rather obvious that whoever designed this either did not or chose not to find an appropriate solution for the degenerative conundrum. Additionally, while it would be nearly impossible for me to prove this for certain, I would estimate that the subject was able to survive for three months after the original implementation of the kryptonite core."

"A prolonged death sentence," Kara mumbled with a growl, her tiny right fist clenched with enough strength to shatter the sturdy table beneath her hand into splinters if she chose to do so. "Am I the only one seeing something ridiculously wrong with all this? Not four years ago this guy was on national television with heavy kryptonite poisoning yammering about wanting to cause a catastrophe that would affect the entire planet? Why would anyone listen to him now?"

"Because of the hard decisions he made when he was President," Scandal replied without batting an eye. "He strengthened America's military and financed projects that supplied the country's veterans with jobs and health care when they returned home from Afghanistan and Iraq. His economic policies stabilized dozens of the world's most critical global marketplaces. He was the face behind the people who fought back against Darkseid when his armies invaded the American capital during The Imperiex Conflict."

"He's an obsessive fat cat who wants all the power and authority he can get his little sweaty hands on and he'd kill what little family he's left alive to get it," Roy countered, the sharpshooter somehow managing to beat his commanding officer to the punch. "He's got his fingers in the pies of more criminal operations than anybody in the world."

"That's why he has enemies," chimed in Cassandra Cain, the smartly dressed martial artist still standing at Scandal's left in spite of the numerous empty chairs available. "That's also why he has friends."

"Look, the number of people that are willing to be his puppets is not the central issue," announced Scandal. "The real question here is how and where Luthor is getting his materials to fashion this kind of an army. I mean, he can have gotten on the good sides of enough easily influenced military brats and international gangsters to fill up the Pacific Ocean but it wouldn't make a difference if he couldn't prepare them for war."

"Well, that's because he doesn't _have_ to arm them here," interrupted a largely unfamiliar voice. All attention soon turned towards the direction of the source and those at and around the table were greeted with the sight of a stringy, bedraggled gentleman in a poorly laundered lab coat with mousy, brown hair that seemed stuck between an unbound ponytail and a lazy mullet. Wincing slightly at all the sudden attention, he fussily readjusted his glasses so that they would sit on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. "Um. Hi there. I'm. . . Professor Kdin Jenkins. Nice to. . . well. . . um, it's a. . . privilege?"

"Professor Jenkins is perhaps the world's foremost expert in metallurgy with specific attention to engineering performed on other planets," Scandal explained to her employee's significant relief. "As you might guess, his department has been working in conjunction with Victor's to find out more about the Metallos."

"Oh boy," Wally mumbled, the speedster having stayed so silent throughout the debate and presentation that he had occasionally been shaking his right leg to release some of the kinetically-spawned tension. "So what extraterrestrial has managed to get in bed with Lexy now?"

Still hedging, Professor Jenkins shakily clapped his hands together in order to steady himself. "Well, there are some materials within the armor that are found on Earth but the vast majority of the material is found mostly on Karbarra."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? On the other hand, I _did _give you guys a new addition to _The Twelve Days of Misfits _that many of you read and far fewer of you told me what you thought about it. However, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe one of my New Year's resolutions should be to pay a little more attention to the handful of people who do provide feedback and I'll start by thanking them with as much energy and enthusiasm as words written on a word processor and transferred onto an Internet website can provide! As I dig deeper into my thirties and find less and less time to do the things I want to do, maybe I could find some motivation to help some of the writers of tomorrow help get out their yayas of today.

Yes, I know that, to most of you, that didn't make much sense. As for those who do know the word I'm speaking, testify and on to the next issue preview!

* * *

_Issue #134 Preview_

It's back to school for Bruce Wayne and Cassandra Sandsmark! Of course, maybe someone should have told them about the new instructors since one of them wants them dead and the other one is willing to do a whole lot to keep them right where she thinks they belong. And let's not forget Superman and The Black Dog as our unlikely comrades investigate matters both personal and professional while Lois and Ollie start to dig deeper into the looming crisis. All this and some talk about bears in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Vicariously We Die. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	134. Vicariously We Die

Issue #134

Vicariously We Die

_Metropolis – The Daily Planet – 7__th__ Floor – 4:29 P.M. Central Standard Time_

Given that he had spent decades honing his talents with the bow and arrow until he had become a master of the ancient craft of warfare, perhaps it was only natural that Oliver Queen could easily admire the speed and determination that Lois Lane-Kent displayed while hammering away at her task. The lower half of his right leg easily supported by the weight of the journalist's ridiculously cluttered work desk, he continued to devote his attention to the fetching Pulitzer Prize winner even while she continued to seemingly devote all of her attention to her efforts. Chunks of text and graphics continued to emerge as Lois's fingers flew across her keyboard, the clacks of her fingertips striking the keys abated only by an equally rapid click of the mouse whenever the situation called for it. She had been soldiering through from almost the moment that Clark and Lloyd had left and showed no signs of stopping or slowing down, the handfuls of times she asked Ollie to look at an economic ledger or a minute chart or a dossier only serving as the only reliefs for the professional investigator.

"Son of a bitch!" Lois screeched while slamming her right fist onto the work desk, the sudden juxtaposition prompting Ollie to briefly stagger backward until he nearly ran the risk of falling on his ass. "You can't conduct an operation like this without at least some traces of a public source point so how in the fuck can I not find it?"

Ollie found himself gulping back a bit of reservation, the realization of how oddly arousing it was to hear the wife of The Big Blue Boy Scout dropping a F-bomb startling him. "What do you mean by source point, Lane?"

"What I mean is that there has to be a connection!" Lois shouted back, her exclamation given even more tenacity when she twisted about in her chair and looked Ollie straight in the eyes. "Themyscira gets waylaid for months upon months until they finally reach the point where even the Amazons are looking to side with someone like Circe. Tons of metallic alloys worth billions of dollars are suddenly sprouting up and we can only guess about the where and yet somebody can get away with using all those valuable resources to design foot soldiers. Then there's the fact that we're dealing with a man who nearly drove himself to a heart attack denying that he would ever lower himself into going into mafia-style crime and now he may as well be shining a spotlight on all the ways he's developed America's preeminent organized criminal organization."

Lois leaned back in her computer chair, her purplish-black eyes broadcasting a dangerous gleam as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. "Still. . . none of this should have been big enough to coax Lex Luthor out of hiding," she insisted, the fingers of her left hand drumming against her right elbow like a spider's steps as she continued to mull it all over. "There's a bigger thing here that we're not seeing."

"Well, I'll admit to being a fan of the occasional conspiracy theory," replied Ollie, the former mayor of Star City planting his own right hand down firmly onto the work desk. Unbeknownst to him, it was only the grace of Lois's focused concentration that kept him from receiving a depreciatory stare at making such a hypocritical admittance. "And, yeah, the whole thing really isn't part of this fat cat's usual oeuvre. . ."

"Oeuvre? Really? You used oeuvre?" asked Lois, the unconscious connotation enough to snap her out of her self-induced trance. "Okay. Fine. I get that people can change," she fought to add before she could be interrupted herself. "Still, the fact remains that this man, a guy who spent _decades _getting his rocks off by flaunting how much smarter he was than everybody else, chose to stay underground for three years. Something like that goes down and it stops being a matter of why he's back in but why he didn't stay out. How sweet must the bait be to coax him to come out of hiding?"

"Oh, I love it when the ladies start using fish metaphors," Ollie began, the usually mouthy commentator choosing mockery in order to play in the sandbox of someone who wasn't very fond of sharing her toys. "Maybe that whole chat with Brucie told all of the story that there was to tell. Maybe he did get spooked by how The Secret Society got shut down. Maybe he's trying to do something different so he can avoid what might happen if he goes with the same ol', same ol'."

"Yeah, that's all well and good." Lois pointed out, the clever woman sounding remarkably unconvinced. "Still, that _does _conveniently bring us to another matter that's been cluttering up my thoughts since I heard you were coming over here. How did _you _respond when you heard that the person you emulated for your entire career. . ."

"I didn't emulate Bruce. . ."

"Fine. The person you copied for fifteen years makes a bold decision to drastically alter his personal and professional purposes, even going so far as to go against the very core values that defined why he went into the crime fighting business in the first place," Lois soldiered on, the eagle-eyed reporter recapturing Ollie's evasive demeanor even after all the twists and hedges her old friend made. "Surely that must have had an effect on you, Mister Queen. Maybe it was enough of a push to force you to lurch off into some unfamiliar ground?"

Ollie let out the deepest sigh that he could, a feat that was made even more fearsome by the fact that he was feeling as if his Adam's apple was preparing to launch itself into his left nostril. "Aren't we supposed to be dealing with how Lex Luthor is planning to try and fail at taking over the world? Holy Hannah, woman! Do you have no sense of professionalism when it comes to this whole journalism racket of yours? I mean, hell, even Fox News would have the decency to finish the load of shit it was shoveling before moving on to a new one."

"Funny how you're mentioning manure given the amount you've scooped out onto Dinah Lance for all those years," Lois swiftly countered, the savvy debater casually sweeping all her metaphorical shovels and pails back behind her. "Out with it, Oliver Queen. You know I have a lot of respect for your son. I'm all for handing an operation off to somebody who has proved that he can handle it but why just leave Star City in the hands of Connor and head to Gotham for damn near full time?"

Green Arrow had known Superman's wife for nearly two decades, a span of time quite long enough for him to realize that he was dealing with an impressively charming but definitively dangerous form of conversational cancer. As dozens of politicians, criminals, and libelous prosecutors had learned both before and after him, Oliver had learned that the only way to survive a direct investigation conducted by Lois Lane was something that you could only survive by facing head on. You'd be made stronger by the experience but only a fool could believe that there was any room for running away or pretending that the problem could be avoided.

"I wanted to see why my daughter chose the life she did. I didn't know her as well as I would have liked but I do know that she poured her life into something that everyone else said she was trying to shake herself free of and I like to think that I've passed on the trait of not looking into something before you commit to it." He waited for Lois to let loose a derisive snort and, when she hadn't, he pressed forward. "And then there's the fact that I'm tired of watching good people get hurt fighting the same battle over and over again because they have a hard time sleeping at night if they have to scrub some blood off their hands. I should be dead right now but Hal decided to be a douche and have me brought back from the dead soooo I figure that if I've got this time then maybe I should try doing what's right rather than what's easy."

Lois tilted her head to one side while pretending to toss about some rejoinders that she had already looked over long before. "You know, I can draw up some old articles from _The Star City Gazette _that could remind you of how you went down a road like this once before. You might find out that it didn't end too well either."

"Well, then why don't you go and make a citizen's arrest, sweet pea," Ollie barked back, the vigilante lazily stretching his arms forward with his palms upturned. "Come on. Ya got enough dirt to bury me under Alcatraz so go ahead and do it! Hell, you can take your old suited suitor down with me, if you'd like. Maybe the fop and me can be bunk buddies."

"Y'know, that might be something that I can pitch to Hollywood," Lois mumbled theatrically, the newswoman weathering the caustic tones with a well-practiced ease. "Of course, if the two of you turn it into a prison porno rather than a prison break then I might want to shoot for HBO or Showtime. . ."

"Oh, that's charming!" Ollie scoffed, the former multi-millionaire now really getting into the game. "Just how the hell can you and your husband just keep playing at being the holier-than-thou journalists and not expect me to know you're a liar after you pitch and present that kind of mind-numbing bullshit like that to the public. Ain't any better than advertising for those PACs pretending to be the 172 Volvo dealerships this futuristic autocratic wonderland has to offer!"

"Sir, I will not have you demeaning the legacy of a journalistic institution that has survived two World Wars, a Great Depression, and another 140 years of American history," Lois spouted back, her tone imperious upon recognizing that some of her colleagues were beginning to zero in on the conversation. After all, nothing turned away the scent of a reporter than one of their own sounding like the insufferable city commissioners they were forced to follow around to fill up the metro reels. "And besides, there are only 17 Volvo dealerships in Metropolis," she whispered back while shifting her eyes to find any stray listeners that had chosen to stick around, the blunt honesty drawing a knowing smirk from both parties. "Okay. Now that you've successfully gone and made an ass of yourself then I'll save my investigation for another time."

"Please do," Ollie answered, the former business mogul repressing the sudden desire to break out into a jig of triumphant victory.

"Okay. For all I love to bash him, Lex is smart enough to know what the price is going to be for failure. Maybe he's preparing even for that and maybe he's not but any greedy survivalist who saw what happened to Vincent Culp, Hunter Zolomon, Arthur Light and dozens of others would go out of their way to keep the same thing from happening to them if they chose to get back in the game. Everything he's set up, allegedly or factually, may be impressive but it's not enough for him. I know it, Clark knows it, Bruce knows it and you _better _know it."

"I do know it," Ollie said in an indubitable manner. "The question I'm asking you though is why he's feeling the need to go through what he's doing now?"

"_You're _the one asking that question?" Lois asked, her right eyebrow upturned as her lips settled into a sour smirk. Blowing an errant strand of black hair off her brow, she turned and opened a drawer of her work desk and retrieved her purse. "All right. I'm done dicking around. What say I take you back to my apartment, Mister Queen?"

* * *

_Hong Kong – Top floor of Tenryu Tower – 9:17 A.M. East Asian Standard Time_

"Karbarra?" Arsenal all but spat out, the red-headed sharpshooter sitting up straight from his comfy office chair. "But. . . that doesn't even make sense. They have always been merchants with deep senses of honor. They wouldn't just sell arms to somebody who would use them to try and harm Earth. I mean, _I _come from Earth!"

Roy briefly looked around the room from stony face to stony face looking for any measure of understanding. "You know. . . and I saved Karbarra."

"_You _saved Karbarra?" Kara parroted back, the de facto squad leader wisely challenging the dubious claim before anyone else could. "Just you? Nobody else?"

"Well, you guys helped," Roy confessed after a scant supply of hemming and hawing. "Hey! They were the ones who gave me this cool energy gun! Aaaaaand they built a 50-foot statue of me. You don't build a 50-foot statue of somebody one day and then try to shoot them in the back a little while later."

"Spoken like any fine, upstanding dictator," Scandal drily noted, the remark drawing a fair share of rumbling laughter. "For those of you who may not be aware, Karbarra is one of the foremost industrial capitals throughout the cosmos. The vast majority of their citizenry are identified as Ursaroids, large, bear-like creatures whose intelligence is on par if not superior to the average human. For centuries their civilization has worked diligently to become and remain a leading designer and distributor of machinery and weapons and have done so through the planet's plentiful supplies of natural resources and the development of fast but ecologically friendly smiting and waste disposal methods that are just as much in demand as the products they help make.

Performing a brief inspection of those around here in order to analyze where her presentation was to go from there, Scandal then quickly returned to task. "As one might guess, they have often been a target for rebels or power players looking for a way up the galactic food chain, the most recent being a full-scale invasion launched by The Sinestro Corps nearly 13 months ago. They were disturbingly successful in their attempt, the rogue Lanterns occupying a large percentage of the planet's populace and technology in a matter of months but, as he was so quick to point out, their efforts were foiled thanks largely in part to a coup d'état kick-started through the efforts of Mister Harper."

"Thank YOU!" Roy hollered while stretching his arms wide. Then, as he took in the wicked glares of Kara and Wally he added, "Oh, and I suppose that you guys helped in your own way."

"The point is," Professor Francis broke in, the weedy fellow apparently finding his courage in the midst of the bald-faced blustering, "the material used to construct the Metallo brought in by Batman and The Black Canary clearly originates from Karbarra. The sheer density of the alloys alone would suggest that the material was originally buried in underground deposits so hot and humid that no place on this planet could match it. However, just as Mister Harper said, no Karbarran merchant would ever be allowed to sell and distribute such valuable material without the government having more control over how it was outsourced. There's simply more money to be made in using the material for something that can create rather than destroy!"

"So somebody may have changed their outlook on things," Kara considered. "Or, as you're probably about to tell us, somebody outside Karbarra might have made off with some of the resources during The Sinestro Corps' occupation and managed to sell it to Luthor."

"Close but not quite," Scandal replied, the corporate leader nodding subtly to her bespectacled charge to indicate that she would take things from there. "Bruce Wayne and Talia Al-Ghul made certain that Lex Luthor couldn't keep the kind of funds that would allow him to take part in that kind of transaction. For that he needed somebody whose ties to the global economy ran far deeper than his own."

The Flash's interests piqued at the mystery in spite of himself. "Deeper than Luthor's? But who the hell can. . ." The speedster's eyes widened quickly as the puzzle fell into place. "No!"

Rather than confirm it directly, Scandal waited for Mister Freeze to shuffle away from the screen to the west before pushing a button on the console next to her chair. The image of Colonel Jannsen's badly scarred cerebral cortex soon blinked out to be replaced by the picture of a broad-shouldered man, his brownish-black hair cut short and clean and accentuated by a slender beard that lined along his large jaw and thick chin. His black suit was pristine and finely tailored and his posture seemed to indicate a captain of industry or a social debonair save for the damning glimmer of his black eyes. They were the eyes of a grand murderer and malicious manipulator of men, the squat orbs subtly sporting the same contempt that lingered in the eyes of his daughter.

"I'm sure all of you are at least somewhat familiar with Vandal Savage," Scandal began, her tone flat but clipped thanks to her attempt to maintain her temperament. "A Neanderthal man made immortal through primordial sorcery, he touts himself as the progenitor of humanity itself. He claims to have been looking on as Cain slew Abel and the legends espoused by ancient storytellers and tomes strongly indicate that there's little reason to believe that he couldn't have been. However, regardless of the legends, the fact remains that Vandal has lived for over three millennia amassing fame and fortune nearly everywhere he traveled. He has taken part in countless wars and has suffered countless wounds that would have easily killed any other human. He has been poisoned, exposed to fatal degrees of heat exposure and starvation, been sliced in twain, burned to cinders and even demolecularized by an atomic blast and yet he always returns."

"Man, I wish I had been there when Firestorm managed to do three of those at one time," The Flash said bitterly, the speedster's plentiful memories of his clashes with the immortal running through his thoughts.

"I've only managed to pull off two of those examples myself," Scandal added, the young immortal's acrimony far outweighing that of her father's most persistent superpowered thorn in his side. "Because of his longevity and knowledge of humanity itself, Vandal has been able to amass a fortune rooted in everything from transcontinental trade routes to demonic bargains to intergalactic industrial ventures and most of it is buried so deeply into the cogs of human history that it would be almost impossible for anyone to pry it all free. He is far and away the richest creature in the world, perhaps even in the galaxy, and he is more than equipped to fund and carry out the kind of vast transaction of materials that would be required to allow this army of androids to come into being."

"And he's also kept himself out of the line of fire for years now," Kara broke in, her truthful interlude startling not only Scandal and Wally but the less informed colleagues around her. "I mean, forgive me for not having the history the two of you share with the gentleman but I have learned enough to know that Luthor and Savage have gone out of their way to hate one another. Why would they suddenly start working together?"

"It is true that there is no love lost between the both of them," Scandal acquiesced, her jade eyes briefly tilting towards Cassandra Cain as the bodyguard teetered back and forth for a fraction of an inch. "However, it would appear that the adage of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' would seem to take precedent over any resentment Luthor and Savage may have for each other. Several days ago I was contacted directly by my father who proposed a deal to merge Tenryu Enterprises with a vast conglomerate of Chinese commercial enterprises endorsed by their federal government. Of course, a more than healthy percentage of the firm's capital rolls straight into Vandal's private funds but the fact remained that he was free to admit that Tenryu Enterprises would be a valuable addition to his 'portfolio', as it were, and asked me to reenter the fold."

The CEO halted her presentation, the young immortal briefly looking about the room as if she was daring anyone to even ask about whether or not she accepted the deal. "Upon my refusal, my father informed me that if I was going to continue lending my support to those I didn't belong with then he would do the same."

"Well, that story seems like it's got a lot of truth in it but it still remains a story," reasoned Kara amidst the startled stares of her older colleagues. "Of course, this isn't to say that we don't believe you or that you haven't earned the kind of trust you're asking for here but you might see how somebody could construe that story as a way of leading us down a blind trail."

Scandal's cool countenance suddenly painted a strong contrast to Batgirl's stern grimace. "Then perhaps you should pay more attention to the global media then?" she offered. "Or at least the ones that are allowed a glimpse of the internal workings of the Chinese government? If you did then perhaps you would have noticed that Tenryu Enterprises just recently lost the contract to supply weapons and spy technology to The Great Ten, China's answer to The Justice League of America. Or, if you asked Mister Kuttler to dig just a little deeper than you might have bore witness to personal transactions of nearly 500 million renminbi doled out by Vandal's private lobbying firms to legislative representatives throughout the Chinese houses of government, many of who have more than a little to say about how the republic goes about selecting companies for defense contracts and public works programs."

"Lex Luthor, through the assistance and resources provided by Vandal Savage, is attempting to eliminate a core threat to his new world order by eliminating their funds," Victor Fries patiently explained, his monotonic delivery adding a few more degrees of gravitas that Scandal couldn't quite provide on her own. "I assure you that both Batman and Mister Thomas would be shrewd enough to recognize that, even if our claims are not truly genuine, the threat to the continued health of the global economy is plain as day."

"I see," Kara replied, the fingers of her right hand briefly drumming against the table. "And I can certainly see why you would all believe that the best way to resolve it is having us eliminate your competition." Silence reigned as the accusation lingered and she and Scandal locked eyes once again, the only flickers to break the tension stemming from Professor Francis clearing his throat and Roy whispering to Wally about 'what happened to the doe-eyed stutterer'. Riding through those potential obstacles with relative ease, the half-Kryptonian continued to maintain her composure despite her bubbling apprehension until Scandal broke the stalemate with a smirk.

"The problem we're here to deal with is the Metallos. How they are created and who is providing the financial backing," Scandal reminded the crowd. "I suppose that any other matter can best be left on the table until later."

As Kara sat back in her chair, she couldn't help but wonder if more of her wanted to either cheer or gnash her teeth.

* * *

_The Lingering Den – Classroom #407_

Bruce had always guessed that he would have never been comfortable in a regular school desk and his current dilemma only confirmed those suspicions. It wasn't a physical thing of course, his strict training regiments conducted over the past three decades allowing him to remain relatively comfortable in confines several times smaller than what was being offered to him in the present time. Perhaps it was just a matter of confirming Nightwing's longstanding theory that his "dear father" had been more than a little spoiled but the psychological freedom that had come from seeking education and enlightenment and education in his own way and at his own discretion had left him with an intolerance towards environments where he had little room to move. He tried to combat the utter lunacy of it all, the tendons of his ankles straining in anticipation of being away from the wooden desk and chair but every time he rose from his seat he felt eyes upon him. It wasn't just the eyes of the students around him but something else that even his mind couldn't sort out and that was enough to force him back down to his place.

_Remember why you're doing this_, Bruce reminded himself as his mind clambered for release. _Cecilia gave her life for the cause. She rescued me from a fate that I deserved far more than her. For her I will endure, I will understand, and I will overcome. _

The mantra provided Bruce's thoughts with a soothing balm and he clamped his eyes shut so that he could focus on that and force it to stick. His heartbeat slowed and his temples ceased their slow, powerful throbbing and that brought his mind back to where it should have been. He opened his eyes once again, his keen intellect allowing him take in what might soon be a battlefield. He measured the parameters of the space and his position in the northwest corner of the desk cluster, the math behind how quickly he could get to the door to the east of him working itself through the hypotheses and variables. There was a bizarre sense of glee in how easily he was able to cobble the possibilities together because it was through the sacrifice of others that allowed him to learn these gifts. Alfred, Cecilia, Dick, Jason, Tim, his father.

His mother.

_His mother!_

Bruce nearly felt his mind shutting down as he took in the flowing black hair, the stark blue eyes and the confident stride of the woman who had opened the door and was now making her way to the teacher's desk. His sense of decorum fought and lost and his eyes went wide, his jaw slacked as the other students greeted their instructor with casual disinterest that brought Bruce's anger to a boil. As if anyone could have treated this creature with no less than the utmost of respect! As if the string of pearls around her long neck didn't deserve the utmost attention!

Because that string was supposed to be broken, its foundation snapped and its bounty scattered on the streets of Crime Alley before time had swept it away.

It shouldn't be hale and hearty and yet it was.

His mother shouldn't have been alive and yet she was.

"Well, try not to fall over yourselves saying how you're looking forward to today's lesson," Martha Wayne began, her voice holding the same jovially driven perception that had held sway over every bedtime story. Every childhood lesson. "All right, class. Let see if we can conclude our study on the good Mister Poe so we'll be able to have a whole day to review for the test on Wednesday. Now I asked you to read _The Fall of the House of Usher_ one last time after we discussed it in class on Friday so that you could tell me what you thought of it after hearing what all the big-deal critics had to say about it back in their day."

Extending her palms forward as a silent invitation, she waded through the awkward but expected silence for several long heartbeats before continuing forward. "So what did you think of it? Is it a work of genius, something you didn't like or something in between?"

Coaxed by their instructor's gentle prodding, several students around Bruce began to slowly raise their hands out of fear of being called upon. After perusing her options, the teacher nodded in the direction of a gangly, red-haired young woman who had tried too hard to cover her freckles with a poorly applied supply of blush. "I don't know, Miss Wayne. It was like. . . nothing was going on. I was just getting bored waiting for something to happen."

"Well, that was a fairly common complaint of Poe's later work," Martha attested, the instructor giving a pleased nod as a reward for her charge's honesty before turning to face the blackboard and scrawling the word "pacing" with a fresh cut of chalk. "He may have been the man responsible for bringing the mystery and detective genres to American literature but many of the critics often argued that he tried to do too much within the frame of a short story. Like he was trying to do and say too much without really saying much of anything."

Bruce took in the mumbles of agreement bubbling up around him and found that he had to hold back the urge to snarl. He had worked too hard to lose what he had found. What right did they have to a reward so rich?

"Well, he did say a whole lot about what you shouldn't be doing to your sister," a young man piped in, his exclamation from one of the back corners of the room drawing some gasps and sniggers. "Hey! Miss Wayne said that the whole reason this mansion was messed up was because this Usher guy was having sex with his sister!"

"Well, that _was _one of the conclusions drawn up by the critics at the time and it's the one that I happen to believe to be true," Bruce's mother said frankly. The candid honesty and the stage whispers that bloomed around him only provided Bruce with more fuel for the flames of his irritability but he still remained silent. "Still, that was just one theory. Any story can say something different depending on who is looking at it and that's what I asked all of you to do. And that's what we'll keep doing as we go further and further into the wonderful world of American literature."

Taking a few more moments to jot out more of the framework for her lesson on the chalkboard, Miss Wayne then briefly clapped her hands together to be rid of the last vestiges of chalk dust before moving to sit at her chair. "And, judging from how impressive a lot of these papers have looked to me, it seems that almost all of you are already on the right track," she said while stretching her arm to make a play for a pile of papers that sat underneath a ragged-looking red ink pen. "I could definitely see a party in this class's future but there is one particular exception to the good work that's being presented here and that goes to Mister Wayne."

Bruce instantly snapped to attention, his deliberations for the surrounding mystery dissolving instantly at the hum of his mother's voice. "Yes. Yes, ma'am?" he stammered out, his cheeks flushing fast and thick as the sound of chuckles and titters banged against his eardrums. "Did I. . . did I do something wrong?"

"Well, that's one way of putting it," the teacher breezily replied. "Bruce, this is the second draft of your research paper that I've had to look at and I keep having to say the same things over and over again. You're just barreling straight to what you think, you believe behind things that other people might be important. There's no emotion to your work, Bruce! I mean, you keep making these mistakes over and over again until it gets to the point where I just don't know what I can do for you."

The bell rang and exacerbated the pain in Bruce's temples as the other students all rose to their feet and began to shuffle off. He made no effort to follow them, his eyes locked on his mother's every move just as she was paying attention to him.

"We'll review tomorrow, class," the instructor reminded her retreating charges as the classroom continued to empty out. Then, as if her quarry needed any further impetus to do so she added, "Mister Wayne, I want you to stay behind for a little while. A little last minute tutoring."

Bruce again offered nothing to the bait of hoots and hollers from the hallways as the final trickles of humanity finally left him alone. He felt his legs begin to quiver as his mother briefly straightened her papers before moving to the door and locking it. Looking on intently as Martha wiggled her shapely hips with every step, the dutiful son lost none of his focus as she turned and made her way towards him. His blue eyes and the gentle confidence he had stolen from his father remained riveted on her stomach even as she tenderly traced the right side of his jaw with her fingertips. When he could finally look up he noticed that the top three buttons of the wine-colored blouse had been undone, the creamy flesh beneath her collar bone somehow glowing under the shine of the light. An odd bubbling in his gut began to rumble its way upward but he still he refused to move as his mother sealed her lips over his, the astonished gasp that served as his response allowing Martha to snake her tongue through the pried crevice. The smacking of flesh on flesh seemed to reverberate as Bruce's mother pulled back, rising to her full height to allow her easier access to the remaining buttons.

"Now tell me the truth, little one," said the predator as her blouse fell to the floor. "Could Selina ever make you feel the way I do?"

* * *

As much as he wanted to resist it, Lloyd leaned forward and chomped into the hot dog with relish (The emotion, mind you. . . he had never really cared for the condiment). Kara would have chastised him for putting such mass-produced filth into his system and Stephanie would have cheered his imprudent dietary decision in such a manner that he would have been quickly convinced to never eat another unhealthy thing for the rest of his days. Of course, neither of those influencing parties were here to stop him. That oddly pleasing seemed to resonate in his stomach as it eagerly accepted the new guests in conjunction with the double-chocolate sundae and freshly cooked fish and chips that Lloyd had devoured beforehand. A rumble of laughter finally distracted him and he turned to regard Clark Kent as the news reporter polished off his own hot dog, the Smallville-raised Kryptonian taking a moment to wipe away a hint of chili that rested on the side of his lips.

"So you're telling me that Wally really thought that the two of us would be trading punches within an hour after we met each other?" asked Superman, a bemused twinkle in the alien's eyes. "Good grief. I honestly thought he would have known better."

"I know, right?" Lloyd replied, his West London twang sounding a bit stronger than usual. "I mean, it's like I fall into this line of work and I'm always hearing about all these misunderstandings that the rest of you hero types are always having. I mean, take Kara, for bloody's sakes. She's out of that little fortress of yours for a second and she's got everybody and their mums looking to scrap. And Robin! Bugger, I heard that Drake bloke she replaced actually cracked two of her ribs with a kick to the gut 'cause she accidentally surprised him one day. And I'm tryin' to understand it, I really am but I just don't see how it can just _keep happening_. You'd think that these people would train themselves to keep things like this from happening."

Clark didn't even bother holding in his sigh, the alien powerhouse briefly reflecting back to his own wide variety of "misunderstandings". "These things happen, Black Dog. When you're out there fighting crime in such a large battlefield it's very difficult to get all the information out to everybody who needs it. Sometimes you can't afford to ask too many questions."

"Bollocks and bullshit!" The Black Dog snapped back after swallowing another bite of his hot dog. "You blokes and lasses just keep lookin' for fights, I say and most of those can cost just as much in terms of property damage than the fights with the actual bad guys! And to think that I always thought that Mao was bonkers with all his talk about superheroes being more trouble than they're worth!"

"Oh, you mean Mao Tenryu?" asked Superman. "Yes, I believed I saved his tower. . . two times, I believe. Plus I imagine all those Lex Luthor power plays and galactic invasions probably would have put a damper on his profit margin if I hadn't been around to help stop them."

"Point taken," Lloyd said without hesitation, a smirk coming to his lips as Clark offered back a winsome smile of his own. Convinced that all the points had been taken off the table, the half-demon went back to polishing off the rest of the food he had bought at the corner stand on 43rd. Licking his thumbs to take in a hint of ketchup and the last vestiges of sea salt that had been on the chips, he took a deep breath before catching the expectant stare of his comrade.

"So. . . have you and Kara had. . . misunderstandings?"

_And there it is,_ Lloyd couldn't help but think. "Y'know, there are an awful number of ways for me to misconstrue that last question."

Superman grimaced. "Look. Let me just be honest here and say that I'm really not sure about what I should be doing here. I mean, I haven't really been too successful in this particular field before now."

"How do you mean?" asked Lloyd, the younger man picking up enough of Clark's hesitation to be convinced to shoulder a bit of the burden. Despite that assistance, the older man's blithe appearance took a downward turn as he focused on his shoes, his footsteps slowing but not to the point where it would impede the surrounding pedestrians proceeding through the downtown area.

"I trust that you've heard about Conner Kent?" Superman began, the good man waiting for Lloyd's confirming nod before continuing on. "I was thinking of how I should treat Kara from the first time I laid eyes on her and a big reason for that was because of what happened with him. I tried to find a fine line between being a guardian and a friend and I don't think that I ever really got it right. Maybe he would still be here if I had."

Lloyd felt the downturn of his lips. It was partly in thanks to the understandable sympathy but the simple fact was that he only knew of the concerning events second-hand. It hadn't been a part of his life and it only became so because he kept letting more and more people into his life.

It was fucking annoying every now and again.

"Well, near as I can tell, you helped raise a man who fought and died protecting the people he loved. Maybe you could have raised him to be a better fighter or a quicker thinker or even help him get to the point where he wouldn't feel the need to hop onto a battlefield. Hell, I don't even know _what _you wanted to do. . ."

"But I felt like I knew what I needed to do when Kara came along," Clark pressed on, a man who could lift a mountain easily bulldozing through Lloyd's rambling. "I gave her the choice between being normal and being a hero and she chose the latter. I wanted her to be everything I thought she could be, everything she wanted to be, but then she disappears before I could even begin to try."

Though he might have felt a little perturbed with the critical glare he received at the newspaper office, this was the first instance where Lloyd had felt genuine alarm. "All right," he said slowly, swallowing both his breath and what he hoped wasn't a heaving dose of hypocrisy. "Are you trying to blame somebody for that? And, if you are, just who might that be?"

Clark was able to hold his stare for a moment before he turned away with a shake of his head. "I don't honestly know. I wish that I could have had the chance to turn Kara away from what she chose to do with her life. I don't think that it's the kind of world she should be living in but I won't turn her away from it. Likewise, so long as you're good to her, I won't try anything to turn her away from you."

Lloyd backed up about a half of an inch as Clark thrust his right arm forward. Blinking away his foolishness when he found himself presented with an extended palm, he reached forward and shook Superman's hand. He momentarily toggled over whether or not he should put some muscle behind his grip before realizing just who he was dealing with and decided to settle for a happy medium, much the same as he did when he chose to avoid mentioning that he didn't like Superman's odds for success if he asked Kara to choose between one or the other. He had won that war once and he planned on holding that battlefield.

"So. . . I take it that you're blaming Wayne for taking your cousin away from you for over two years?" Lloyd's question first startled Clark into an astonished blink before the both of them let out a wave of relieved laughter. "Well, at the risk of having my skull crushed by your physical superior, I'll just come out and say that Kara's felt a whole lot better since she's been able to talk with you. I mean, she was always looking for somebody to talk to about her past. About who she was. An' I like to think that I provided that but it's nice that she has someone who can look at those things and keep seeing her for who she is rather than just what she can do."

"Well, I'll keep your secret safe then," Clark replied with a stage whisper, the two gentlemen now continuing at a brisk but leisurely place as they made their way towards the nearby park. "Speaking of which, I have to ask about whether or not you know just what you're getting yourself into." Upon acknowledging Lloyd's upraised eyebrows, he pushed forward quickly. "I know that Bruce likes to think of me as somebody who just sees the best in people but I can still remember the side of Kara that Darkseid was able to drag out of her. I've sparred with her since then and I know she's gotten much stronger. She could beat me and that means that I have to view her as a threat to the home that I love if her emotions get the better of her."

"I could say the same about you." Lloyd hastily pointed out, the first flickers of anger starting to rise in his eyes. "Hell, I could say the same thing for myself."

"Yes. That's why I treasure the love and compassion that was given to me when I was growing up in Smallville. That's why men like Bruce and Mao Tenryu made certain that you understood the responsibility behind the power you had. Kara didn't have that. She was treated first as a lab rat and then trained to be a bloodthirsty murderer and then she spent the next thirty years being trapped in those memories. She may be happy now but. . ."

"Let it lie, Kent," Lloyd sagely countered, the magician hardly needing the glimpse of the possible future that he had to realize that sense behind the accusation. "She knows she'll always be hounded both by what she's done and by the people who know what she's capable of and what she's capable of doing for them. Somebody like that needs someone that can be with them for all those times and that's who I intend to be."

"And that's how it is?" asked Clark, the former vestiges of examination making way for an outright spotlight that he shined upon the person who had apparently meant so much to the only blood family that he had left. "I know she doesn't need anyone to look after her anymore. She's stronger than that. But will you take care of her?"

Lloyd couldn't help but shut his eyes for a fraction of a second as he pondered the beating of his heart. He observed the biological metronome as it continued to tick on by, each beat another step toward the breakdown of his body by the demon within.

"I'll stay with her as long as she'll have me."

* * *

_The Lingering Den – Classroom #312_

Cassandra had never been a huge supporter of sitting in the back corners of the classroom. Her junior and senior years at Elias had basically been a whirlwind of stumbled greetings and suspicious stares after she had been revealed to be Wonder Girl and she always thought that the best way to brush it all away was to be as close to the instructor and the instruction as she could. Of course, the fact that she had Cecilia to swap notes and gossip with made the extra attention a little easier but it was the sight that awaited her upon being escorted to the classroom that compelled her to stay close on this particular occasion. The sight of the hulking presence standing in front of the teacher's desk, his harsh gaze shrinking away the bravado of any student that had dared to challenge him, was nearly enough to allow Wonder Girl to break free from the alluring clutches of Cecilia's trappings but she eventually failed just as Bruce had and took her seat.

"I understand that some of you may think that you're a little old for show and tell," said the unlikely soothsayer, his eyes taking on a tinge of scarlet as he looked about the room. "However, to quote one of the wiser of your kind, 'Those who do not bear witness to history are doomed to repeat it'. That is the lesson that I would like to teach all of you today and I'll leave it up to all of you to decide what you think you're getting out of it."

At that the immortal turned to regard Cassandra as she was all but frozen in her seat, a hundred lifetimes of war bequeathing him with the experience of recognizing that his quarry was right where he wanted it. He took in the strands of the golden rope tied to the stripling's belt and admired one of his more sinister creations, a tool meant to aid a hero simultaneously serving as his tether to a world his kind were meant to abandon. With a nod of his head he summoned his latest instrument, the psychic manifestation of Cody Driscoll shambling to the front. Horrifically marred by radiation burns that ran over nearly the entire right side of his body, the former Teen Titan looked like pain was brought about with every step. A barrage of skin grafts and emergency surgeries had allowed Risk to make an all but full recovery in reality but here he was presented as Cassandra would remember him. Just as Ares had wanted him to appear.

"I got all these when The Sinestro Corps attacked Titans Tower," Risk explained, his tale already grinding to a halt as several of the other students scraped their desks against the floor as they leaned forward to take a closer look. "I shouldn't have been there but Cassie said it was an emergency and she needed all the hands she could get."

The uncomfortable speaker tilted his head to his left in his discomfort, the move unconsciously presenting one particular burn that had charred away a portion of his neck to where blood and bone were on full display. "She could have stopped it. She could have told Tim that she didn't think they could handle the kind of thing that the both of them asked us to do but she didn't. She never does. She never wants to disappoint anybody."

"Speak for yourself," a grouchy sounding voice grumbled back, the owner of it striding forward boldly before shouldering Risk aside. Having years of training from Bruce Wayne in the field of when and where to strike, Tim Drake was more than gifted enough to make the blow land on the right shoulder of the former Teen Titan. The agony of it was enough to send Risk tumbling down to the floor amidst a gale of laughter but Robin gave the man no mind as he turned to face the class, his own left shoulder dangling from his side like an errant strand of fat to be plucked off a pork chop.

"Cassie broke my arm and separated my shoulder when she was carrying me to San Francisco after the cleanup from The Battle of Metropolis. She could have said something about how she didn't think she could control her strength but of course she kept her trap shut. She just worried about what she didn't have to say and what she didn't have to do and let somebody else suffer the consequences." The accusatory glance that the young detective had been broadcasting to the entire class was quickly focused as he turned to face Cassandra as she struggled between fury and embarrassment. "It's a good thing she's got all that power because without it she'd be nothing. Just a thief skittering about in the shadows."

"Well, she _is _a thief," interrupted another young gentleman, his burbled and garbled words somehow enough to coax Tim into ceasing his diatribe and return to his seat. Finding herself unable to turn around and prepare herself for what was to come, Cassie could only sit still, her eyes facing the front until the blur of gold and crimson made his presence felt. Her heart simultaneously surged with hope and shrunk into her chest as Bart Allen shambled his way to the presentation area, the font for his odd candor made clear by the blood spilling from the enormous cut that dragged from ear to ear. The viscous liquid continued to trickle down the uniform that he had inherited from Wally West, the blood pouring over the lightning bolt insignia and blocking it from view.

"Zolomon got a hold of me while I was busy trying to hold off Doomsday," the former Kid Flash explained, the dour tone of what portions of his voice that could be discerned sounding phenomenally unlike the cheery time traveler but still real enough for the woman who construed herself to be the guilty party. "Connor had got himself in trouble and Cassie couldn't bear to see the one she picked getting the worse end of a fight and I couldn't bear to see the first girl I ever loved in that kind of pain. Maybe she could have helped or maybe she couldn't but the time I spent getting Superboy some breathing room was more than enough to kill me."

Bart let out a raspy cough, the motion so violent that a globule of blood managed to escape from his lips and splatter on the desk in front of him. "Zoom grabbed one of Prometheus's vibration blades, picked his spot, and slit me from ear to ear. I should have been safe. Maybe even joined that team that Batman was making. He might have put me on the path I was looking for."

"My my. What a nasty little pilferer that's manage to crawl our way into these hallowed halls," Ares said silkily, his tone smooth but relentless in drilling through Wonder Girl's psyche. "Well, I thank all of you for giving your reports today. I know that some of us would like to get to our reports today but I'm afraid we only have time for one more."

The emerald-white glob on the seat next to Cassie let loose a dismayed gush, the once cheery telepath left with no other way of expressing her discontent after one of Neron's Regids had broiled her alive. Cassie felt her stomach turning and her ankles shuddering but now she had no qualms against her inability to look anywhere but at the front of the class. Anything to save herself a little more time to avoid looking at those soft blue eyes, his cocky grin, and the black-and-red ensemble that Connor Kent wore with pride as he moved to say his peace.

* * *

_Tenryu Tower – 17_th _Floor – 9:24 A.M. _

"And here we have the east wing," Ragdoll began again, the impromptu tour guide taking his role with the same aplomb that had impressed many of his less reluctant audience members. "As some of you may know, Mao Tenryu sought to expand the physical base of his operations on an annual basis. He reportedly stated that this would help provide a stronger symbol of continuous improvement and provide a consistent work schedule for dozens of Chinese construction workers but, whatever the truth may be, the middle floors of the tower were eventually assigned to house some of the less volatile departments and merchandising operations. Of course, there was the instance nearly six years ago of the Grocknard demons serving as temporary employees for the customer service department attempting to summon a greater demon by means of a blood ritual. Despite that, I am pleased to report that continued cleansing sacraments and centering enchantments have allowed this level to be used for business offices and meeting rooms. Note the nice smell of pine stemming from this sigil here. . ."

"Ragdoll. Ragdoll, please," Linda Park-West said pleadingly, the young mother wondering why she didn't just henpeck her husband into allowing her in the conference going on up above. Of course, it wasn't that she was against pushing her twin toddlers along with a stroller or keeping an eye on the ever-curious Lian Harper while she did so but 40 minutes of this "additional education" courtesy of The Secret Six's dandy man had left her nerves well past the point of frayed. "Let's. . . let's just have a nice little walk until the others come back down."

Ragdoll turned and tilted his head to one side (the kindly gesture made a bit repulsive looking by the fact that his neck was soon tilted at an obtuse angle). "I apologize. I'm just not use to these kind of pedestrian performances. Perhaps I'm still a titch nervous about tonight's performance. I honestly haven't had such a sundry audience since our command performance of _The Importance of Being Earnest _to a group of terrorists who were threatening to bomb the headquarters of The European Union. Of course, I've found that my dear monkeys can transcend the gaps of differing languages and it only took several stabbings to get the rest of them. . ."

"Question! Question!" Linda piped up, the columnist wisely twisting Merkel's thirst for providing the proper entertainment and using it to avoid hearing stories that could scar the surrounding children. "Come to think of it, this _is _something that's gotten me to thinking every now and again. You guys are called The Secret Six, right? So there's Scandal, Catman, Mister Freeze, you, and Batgirl. That's five."

"It was since the last time I was able to look at my grey matter," Ragdoll answered.

"Well, then who's number six?" Lian asked, the young lady just as determined to unlock the mystery. "And can I be part of the team when I get older?"

Proving that fate has a unique sense of evening its way out, a spot of the western wall nearly 30 yards ahead of the group suddenly exploded in a spray of wood and cheap metal. What emerged from the hole soon after though was clearly made of sterner and more expensive stuff but that fact should not take away from the constitution of who John Corben had used to create the mess. A brute of muscle and flesh, the masked behemoth slowly rose back to his feet despite having endured a blow that would have broken lesser men. And, while she may have been distracted with the vital task of wheeling her children away from harm's way, Linda could not see or feel any sense of panic from the man despite being faced down by a machination that had gone toe-to-toe with Superman.

"Oh, there is Mister Bane right now!" Ragdoll said gaily, his lanky arms waving spastically. "Oh dear. I would have thought that one of his guests would be more hospitable than that."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Sorry that the latest installment took a wee bit longer than expected. As entertaining as my life can be, it can often lead to situations where I don't have the time to spend to take time for my creative endeavors. That being said, if anyone was interested in supplying me with a large sum of money and/or ownership of the world so that I might have the opportunity to work on this with greater frequency then I would be most appreciative. After over 1,200,000 words of work, I like to think that I would have received a little bit of monetary compensation for my troubles.

Or you can rob a bank for me. That's cool too.

Or I can just provide you with a next issue preview.

* * *

_Issue #135 Preview_

Well, it took about 30,000 words but it looks like we've finally got some action going on here! Metallo has invaded Tenryu Tower! Bane has arrived on the scene! Batman is making out with his mother and Wonder Girl is having to go face-to-face with her first love. Oh, and there's the whole thing about Lois dragging Ollie back to her bedroom and Clark and Lloyd's investigation but I'm sure we'll get to that soon. Maybe, in fact, in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Lovers and Luchadores. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	135. I'm So Vain

Issue #135

I'm So Vain

_Tenryu Tower – 17__th__ Floor – 9:27 A.M. _

Linda thought it best to not put too much effort into counting the number of times her life had been in danger. If anything else, that diverted energy allowed her to keep a more accurate inventory of the moments when Jai and Iris had been in danger and it was the frustration that poured from that particular statistic that allowed the columnist to keep a level head as she hustled away her children with Lian just a few steps ahead. Iris was just as quiet and compliant as she always seemed to be in moments like these, so much so that it might have seemed disconcerting to her if taken from outside the actual moment, but it was Jai who demanded her attention as the coffee-colored youth turned to watch the battle while bouncing on his little heels.

"Wressleman!" the youth shouted even as his mother yanked on his arm and forced him to turn away from the apparently exciting fray. "Wressleman sooplecs!"

Having gone years without Venom, the powerful muscle enhancement toxin that would have enabled him to lift the 900-pound machination over his head, the masked warrior known only as Bane was forced to consider other options. Employing the shrewd intelligence that allowed him to survive and thrive as a child left alone in one of the most brutal prison colonies in the world, he chose to employ his deceptive agility as he tucked and rolled to avoid Metallo's wild left hook. Returning to his vertical base with the pace of a panther, the man made infamous for "breaking The Bat" swooped up a 90-pound mound of brick and mortar left behind by the original impact and slammed it against the back of Metallo's right knee. The impromptu bludgeon shattered upon contact and did no more damage to his opponent than if he had resorted to swinging the nearby stack of copier paper but it was still enough to draw Metallo's attention fully upon himself so that not even a whit of it could wander off towards the retreating civilians.

"Oh, dear. I had most certainly not planned on having such a violent addition to our accompaniment for the evening's performance," Ragdoll said in dismay, the dandy man's folded against his elongated face. "Or such a weighty one, for that matter. Perhaps I could scurry off to the fourth floor and fetch some of those thrones that were used by those golems that the posh demon lord had brought with him several months ago."

Having no time to inform his mentally unsound teammate that he was planning on throwing him off the roof of Tenryu Tower if he managed to come out of this alive, Bane continued to close in on his massive aggressor in an attempt to eliminate the advantage in size, strength, and weaponry that the inhumanly powerful android had at his disposal. The former inmate turned leader of Santa Prisca pondered over how much time he had to hold off Metallo with such pathetically limited resources until a whistling sound fluttered through his ears and provided the answer. Though he wisely leapt with the gust of wind that kicked up with the sudden arrival, he still was forced to weather the second-hand impact as a blur of black and white violently knocked the android to the floor.

Meanwhile, clear on the other side of the seventh floor corridor, Linda felt herself getting picked up by what felt like a maelstrom. The initial pervasion of panic flooded her senses but it didn't take long for the familiarity of the happenstance to settle in and then she tried to find some sense of comfort in a situation where others might have been better off taking themselves away from the world. By the time her wits returned to her Linda could see that she had been taken to a stark, featureless rectangular room with cold metal walls surrounding the 20 by 15 foot perimeter that were bare save for a modestly large storage locker neighboring a portable heating device. Blinking her eyes rapidly to more quickly compensate for the unexpected burst in velocity, she soon managed to focus on Iris as she was being calmed down by little Lian while Jai cooed excitedly at the sight of their rescuer.

"Daddy! Daddy! See wressleman?"

"Yeah. Daddy saw him all right," Wally said gently, his slightly trembling hand sifting through his son's black hair in a gesture that was meant to appease emotions on both sides. Sinking to his knees in order to wrap his arms around his youngest child, The Flash turned to the two individuals standing at the sliding doorway behind him. "Are you _sure _that they'll be safe in here?"

"You have my word. . . whatever you believe that will amount to," Scandal Savage replied with a wry smile, the thousand dollar suit having been quickly replaced by her black-and-silver battle armor and the half-mask that kept her lips and familiar mole hidden from view. "This safe room was built to withstand a nuclear blast. It's 50 feet under the ground, the door has coded entry that only I have access to, enough food and ventilated oxygen for 20 people to remain in here for a week. . . Oh, and there's the little fact that Lloyd and Vincent tore the entire building down and this place barely had a scratch on it."

"Well, I suppose that will have to do," Wally confessed, the speedster managing to swallow his pride before moving to kiss Jai on his chubby cheek. "I'll be back down here as soon as I can," he added as Iris and Linda moved forward to offer and receive their own reassurances. "You're in charge while I'm gone, Lian!"

"No problem, Uncle Wally!" Wally heard Roy's daughter chirp back, her confidence under fire somehow managing to sound both encouraging and frightening to The Flash as he rose back to his full height. Sparing one last look at his family as warnings and I told you so's ran around his brain pan, he exited the room at Mister Freeze's enormous booted heels and waited as best he could as Scandal sealed the entrance. e zHe

He regarded their nonchalance and felt the bitter cocktail of annoyance and envy rifling through his veins and it only coursed stronger as Scandal turned, read his face, and offered a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder before leading the pack away from the basement.

"Zor-el has Corben's main infiltration under control but the radar is picking up an additional bogie making their way into the science division," Scandal reported without missing a breath as she ascended up the narrow stairwell with The Flash close behind. "I've put Cassandra and Roy to the task of getting employees secured away."

"Woah. Wait a minute. The science division? Why there?" asked Wally, the impatience continuing to nip at his senses until the professional part of him provided the usual warning about fools rushing in. "I mean, are we thinking it is for the Metallo parts?"

"Unlikely. However I imagine that the excuse shall serve as their cover up," Mister Freeze provided with the aid of Scandal's active communicator, the armored man now forced to seek an alternate route due to the bulk of his winter-blue carapace. "There are a variety of innovations in the field of cryogenesis and cancer treatment that I'm certain that Scandal's father would be please to copy and sell. I placed the chambers on lockdown upon hearing of the intrusion and my associates were able to vacate the grounds with relative safety."

"Yeah, but that still leaves God knows what still trapped in the laboratory with a couple billion dollars worth of equipment," Scandal countered, her slender legs now powering her through a sprint up another stairwell even as she turned to face her far faster comrade. "Western corridor. Ninth floor. Take me there, Flash."

Hardly needing to hear the order twice, Wally nimbly swept the leader of The Secret Six into his arms. Transferring enough of his own kinetic energy so that the immortal wouldn't suffer any damage from what was to come, he poured on the speed. With every wall or other barrier came a hypervibration of his molecules that allowed both he and his cargo to pass through without any damage and that was enough to get them to the apparent scene of a crime in less than half of a second. It was an admirable pace but still not enough to keep them from getting beat to the punch as they were forced to look on as a familiar figure cradling the spare kryptonite core in his right hand.

"Nothin' worse than having to deal with inferior models," Corben mused, the genuine Metallo evenly dividing his contempt between the alien rock and the two antagonists standing at the other side of the barrier. "This is property of Intergang, Miss Savage. You guys snatched it and now I'm seeing to it that this little beauty gets returned to its real owner."

"Forget about getting back to Luthor with that thing," The Flash shouted back. "You're outnumbered, you're outgunned, and all I need is a split second to be in there and start smashing you into a fine metallic grit."

"Something's wrong here, Flash," warned Scandal, the young immortal throwing her right arm in front of Wally's chest. "Corben was the first intruder to break in. There's no way he should've gotten past Kara."

John Corben had always been eager for the moments when he had a leg up on his competition and this example was no exception. The vestiges of human flesh that remained on his countenance tensed and brightened as he smiled, the fingers of his left hand slowly sinking into the metallic examination desk until the tips of them were sunk through. He felt the hum of his kryptonite core and reveled in the rumble of energy circulating through his body and flowing throughout his surroundings, the current so overwhelming that it began to twist and mold the metal objects around him until it looked as if he was silently commanding it to do so.

"Oh, I ain't outgunned any more, Speedy. And soon enough I ain't gonna be outnumbered neither."

* * *

As odd as it may sound to someone who hasn't had the privilege to personally experience this unique feeling, Cassandra Sandsmark was sick and god damned tired of seeing her first lost love seemingly returning from the grave to greet her. Maybe it was the months she had wasted searching for illusions while endangering those who tried to get her to listen to reason or her encounters with failed clones to all the inklings and suspicions and broken roads that were supposed to eventually lead to Connor miraculously returning to life, her grand reward after all the suffering and toil, she had simply gotten tired of people insisting that this was such a defining definition of her life. She never wanted to be someone who looked as if they lumbered through life lamenting the one thing they couldn't have. She needed to be a person who fought the good fight, someone who saved lives and kept making damn certain to be better at what she did so she could avoid more of the mistakes that she had made in the past.

Like the reminder that was staring down at her right now; this horribly realistic sight of a childish crush turned into a flicker of something that she had hoped would turn into something that would now never be.

"It all started with a bad decision," the imaginary Superboy began, his candor supple but strong just as it had been during the night they had seemingly stolen away from fate, the first and only night they had made love. "I just saw Doomsday and I remembered all of the mess that he had started when he had been there before. I guess I was so busy wanting to protect the other people fighting for Metropolis that I didn't really think about who would be able to help protect me. I wish I had been strong enough to stay around."

The effort took a tenacious amount of strain but Cassandra refused to lift her eyes away from the desk, her blue irises wide as the familiar tones washed over her. She had been so focused on ignoring the possibilities that she jumped when she felt fingertips grazing against her cheek but she didn't dare lift her eyes. She wouldn't believe. She couldn't believe.

"I've missed you so much, Cassie. You don't know how hard it's been to fight my way back to you. Just. . . watching and doing nothing and seeing you go through so damn much but we both managed to pull through. We've found our way back to each other."

Wonder Girl moved as quickly as she could, her arms wrapped tightly around Connor's broad shoulders. She poured all her senses into a singular task of taking everything in. The scent of the shampoo and overpriced body wash he had bought because he had watched one too many dumb commercials. The sound of soft chuckles and earnest whispers from those around her were already fluttering through her ears but she ignored them. She only focused on reaching for the spot on his left shoulder where the bone sunk further in than it should have, her fingertips grazing the skin above the cluster of nerves that she had massaged for those few, quiet minutes as the Kansas evening shined down on their bare skin.

"You have no idea how lonely it was in here when I first showed up, Cass. I mean, there were so many empty chairs that I couldn't figure out where I wanted to sit down but now look what's going on here. We're all here. We're together again and we never have to leave."

* * *

Bruce kept his eyes glued on his mother's backside as it swung back and forth, the sultry stare that Martha had shot his way going all but ignored in favor of a more visceral approach to affection. He felt his pulse rising, his blood tumbling as the first woman he had ever loved swished around the long desk and settled herself into the nearby chair. Leaning the legs close to the table, she placed her elbows on the desk so that her child could get some definitive glimpses of her jutting bosom as she ran the tip of her right ring finger across her lower lip.

"I hope you can understand why I asked you to stay, Mister Wayne. I mean, you _should_ seeing as how your track record already seems to speak for itself. Countless hours honing your body and mind to become a hero, training to be a hero who has gone on to save countless lives. You've became so good at what you set out to do that you not only became a legend in the city you chose to protect but now you're known in places so far away that you and I couldn't even begin to imagine them when you began. The eternal war against crime was your mission and your devotion to it not only saved you but so many others that saw the nobility behind the violence and the need behind the determination. You have love, family and devotion where there could have easily been hatred, loneliness, and negligence."

The sound of a clasp snapping open rang like a gunshot in Bruce's ears but his every iota of his eyes were soon focused on the sight of his mother's bra falling to the table. He attempted to employ his usually insurmountable strength of will to look away but that was a battle he had planned his way into ruination. He roved over the lost treasure that had been unveiled, the forgotten sight of pale skin and soft flesh made more succulent by his own arousal.

"You've sacrificed so much to let others have what you couldn't and now is the time where you earn your reward. You will be able to show your love for the one woman who never willingly hurt you, who never would have left you."

None of Bruce's training could prepare him for the pain in his lungs as his breathing ran fast and deep as his mother rose from her chair. His eyes widened as she crawled forward on the desk, slinking with every inch. Like a cat she slowly slid her legs forward with her arms straight and her hands against the desk until she was able to sit down at the edge, her legs crossed primly with the left on top of the right. It suddenly brought Bruce to a brief remembrance of the early Sunday mornings when his mother would take him to Robinson Park where they would watch the birds and read some favorite book. Then she spread her knees outward, her white cotton panties visible through the broadening gap, and all childish thoughts were immediately flushed from his mind.

"I know what's going on inside of you, son," Martha said knowingly, her ankles briefly brushing against the corners of the slab before she slid her lower limbs into a closer and comfortable position. "I can tell you all the questions you're asking yourself before you can even express them. 'Who would benefit from what I do and what decisions I will make? When did I realize that this is what I wanted? Where will I be when this is all over?' But, of course, we both know that the real puzzler is the same as it always has been, isn't it."

Martha clamped her knees together with a quickness, the sudden movement startling her son and leaving him wanting, wanting and hating himself for what he needed.

"What could I have done differently? How could I put a stop to the questions before I feel compelled to answer them?"

Neither party knew who had spoken first but they both concluded their theories at the same time, the concurrency delivering a hungry smile to the mother and another moment of stunned silence from the son.

"I know why you surround yourself with mysteries. You use the questions of other people to give your life a different meaning than the one you were meant to have. The one that was took from you. What I'm offering now is an opportunity that any good mother would provide. I offer you a way to get back _inside_."

Bruce was on his feet the moment his mother beckoned him with a casual wave of her hand.

* * *

The gasp left Cassie's lips before her throat could rein it back in, the tears pouring from her eyes until she could feel the wet spot on Connor's black-and-red t-shirt. She felt herself moving against her will and found herself fighting against it until she felt those coarse lips on hers. She had gotten used to those stolen, starved moments when she and Tim sought solace from their own purgatories that she had forgotten how tender something like this could be. There was no desperation here. Just a simple, affectionate acceptance of what was and the adopted Amazon took it in like a parched alcoholic swallowing an offering of the finest wine. She accepted the hoots, the hollars, the cooing and the applause as the kiss deepened, the vision of her true home solidifying and cementing itself in her anguished mind until she had no qualms with shoving off Connor with such force that he cracked the blackboard with his soaring body.

"Where is Cecilia?" Wonder Girl growled through gritted teeth, her words easily carrying over the sound of falling plaster. "Because if this is supposed to be where I belong then where is my best friend? She needs to be because she's the one who would have teased me for making out with a guy who felt he had to wear jeans that tight! She would snarl at me to keep my head out of the clouds and stop living in the past! You give me an answer to that and then maybe I might start trying to believe that I'm supposed to stay here."

The gasps and whispers were ringing about Cassandra's ears but it was nothing she hadn't already heard before. They started at Elias the day an Amazonian praetor showed up on campus to drop off her lunch, got more specific at Happy Harbor, spread out again in the months after Connor's death before finally dimming down to distracted gossip in the present time. _Cassie doesn't have a daddy. Cassie's afraid of being herself. Why can't Cassie just get over it? Why is Cassie still here? _

As odd as it seemed, the whole thing used to make her feel special, like the karma of her hum drum childhood was finally bearing its fruit until the point came when she thought all this attention meant that she had the right to demand to be alone when she asked for it.

But that never happened. She couldn't make it happen then and she wasn't going to try to allow it to happen now.

"Cissie, if you think that this was going to throw me off my high horse than you did a piss poor job of thinking it through," the young demigod shouted to her surroundings as Connor shakily stumbled back to his feet. "Bart's gone, Connor's gone and now you are too but that's not going to stop me from living because none of you wanted to stop. I'm not going to quit."

There was a flicker of soft laughter before Cassie discovered the hulking presence to her left. She instinctually attempted to put up her defenses but the best she could manage was to absorb the impact of the sweeping uppercut that followed with the lower half of her right shoulder rather than the center of her chin. The force of the impact lifted her into the air, the pace quick enough to make for a painful collision with the ceiling before Wonder Girl crashed onto the teacher's desk with not enough speed to shatter it but still sufficient for the wooden slab to splinter a third of the way on either side. Shaking away the cobwebs, she rolled to the far side of the desk and stood amongst the shards of chalkboard as Ares stood tall across from her and ready to bring about more harm.

"Wow. I'm really starting to hope that somebody out there is having a weirder day than I am."

* * *

The last button of Bruce's vest was unfastened and he left the unnecessary garment to slink off his shoulders as he slowly moved forward. Small doses of his sanity attempted to weigh down his heels, to punch through the veil weaved together by a lifetime of resentment but he kept plodding onward like one of the zombie-like students traipsing about the noisy halls beyond the doorway. He didn't want to be part of that world anymore. He wanted to be home.

"I. . . I didn't. . . didn't want it like this," he mumbled out as the tips of Martha's toes pressed into his left pant leg. It felt as if he could feel every muscle and vein as the point of contact slid ever higher up his trembling thigh.

"You wanted it to be _just _like this," Martha argued back, her counterpoint accentuated as her foot stopped its journeys at Bruce's waist. "It's everything you wanted. A sure and strong princess to join the dark knight, to forego the callings of nobility and lie with him after a night of troubles. A lifetime of tribulations."

Bruce refused to deny the logic as he stroked his mother's chin with the slender fingers of his left hand. He let the sin of his affections burn into him even as he made his right middle and ring finger into a knifepoint and jabbed at the skin over the woman's carotid artery. The attempt to bring the encounter to a quick end was barely foiled as his dream slid across the desk once again, the intimations abandoned as The Dark Knight of Gotham City looked upon his trial with a cold fury.

"This is your test for me? You take my mission! The pledge that I had made on the graves of those who make me who I am, turn it into a sick joke and hope that I give in to my despair!"

"This is your chance to take back the contentment you've long deserved! All these years you investigate and strategize and exhaust every portion of what you could be and you do that by replacing who you want to be with a man that will always be teetering on the cusp of his own insanity. Oh, you may have those children there to hold you back but all they can provide is padding for the heart and that won't hold firm when you finally dash your soul against the jagged rocks at the bottom. Stop plodding down the path that will just lead to your own destruction and let someone else take you in! For once!"

"I am tired of everyone insisting that I don't have control over what I do!" Bruce roared while scattering the papers, books, and folders off the table with a mighty swipe of his hand. His fingers were clenched into fists even before the first scholarly tome struck the floor, his teeth clenched to keep him from roaring. "I don't care if it's friends saying it or family or whatever you think yourself to be! I have spent my _life _preparing myself for these sacrifices. If there was anything I could have done to protect Cecilia or Jason or anyone else I would have! A thousand times over! But I won't let my own limitations get in the way of what still needs to be done."

The impassioned homily drew back a round of high-pitched laughter that startled Bruce more than any kind of death threat or vow for revenge. He responded by focusing on a part of the illusion that he hadn't managed to see before, that dry smirk that might have been there when his father's intelligence tried to speak for too much, accomplish something that it wasn't meant to achieve. He thought back to Alfred's tales of how Martha Wayne preferred to demonstrate her wisdom silently while her husband flagrantly displayed his knowledge and desire to express it and employed it like a blunt instrument. He remembered his childhood recollections and once again thought that it seemed like a terribly rude thing to do for somebody as good as his mother. The child had been able to drown himself in Oedipal hypocrisy but the master detective managed the wherewithal to breach through the past and examine the present.

"Oh, but those limitations are the hands that will pull you over the edge, my boy," Bruce's mother warned, the knowing lilt of her cold candor forcing the son to zero in on the meaning. "I am your mother, Bruce. The simple matter of death doesn't break such a bond or the responsibilities that should go with it. Though I may not affect the way you live your life as much as I wish I am still allowed to see what you've become."

A simple shrug of her creamy shoulders and Martha's clothing returned to where it belonged, the authority that came with it cementing firmly into Bruce's cerebral cortex. "You are a grand detective, so much so that perhaps you are enough to guide me through this deceptively simple case study. Let us look at the women you've allowed into your heart and see what they all have in common."

Bruce blinked for a traitorous moment and, when his eyes open again, his mother was holding a series of file folders. He watched as Martha primly opened the dossier on top, briefly brushed over the contents with her eyes and smirked once again.

"Subject number one: Zatanna Zatara. A childhood crush whose spirit and love for life was enough to lift your spirits but proved to never be enough to pull you free of the shadows you immersed yourself within for the sake of the mission. She could try and try again to see what good there was to be in the world but it just ended up being an excuse for her to keep a cheery smile and you to keep your menacing grimace. So sweet that the both of you can always be there for each other, eh?"

Martha calmly moved to sit at her desk without a shred of allure or sexuality to her movements. "Next we have Talia Al-Ghul," she continued on while opening the next file. "Now here we have a woman who has no problem standing face to face with the darker portions of our ambitions, a woman who could match you intellectually and physically. And, just like you, she has pledged herself to forever wage a war between honoring her progeny while raging to resist their hold. Of course, that struggle can be so encompassing that it can blind someone from the joys of a compromise, can it not? There is no way for you to love a woman who would take lives and manipulate others for a cause that was not your own."

Bruce strode forward to dispute that claim but Martha held up her left palm without diverting her eyes away from the files, the gesture enough to keep the investigator in his place. "Then we have the Amazonian princess. Another fine physical specimen to be sure and the mind is perfectly capable when it isn't so wrapped up with political aggrandizing and pointless swagger. She is perfection, something that you will forever strive for and knowingly never obtain and what better way to assure failure than to set your reward around a goal that you can never hope to achieve?"

By now Martha was merely tossing the spent files over her shoulder, her heels wedged upon the table and her legs lightly crossed. "All right, and now we have a former and current recipe for disaster. My God, what is it with you and emotionally conflicted brunettes?"

Clearing her throat without the slightest hint of decorum, Martha turned the lone file she had left in her hands and opened it to Bruce to reveal one of the most unflattering portraits of Selina Kyle that he had ever seen. Adorned in a sloppily tied, black terry cloth robe, she looked to be just on the verge of waking up from a long sleep as evidence by the rat's nest her black hair had become and the rivulets of drool that still clung stubbornly to the right corner of her lips.

"Herrrrrre's Catwoman: a recovered schizophrenic thief with delusions of feline grandeur and a fetish for black leather. Now you would think that this would seem like the perfect match for a man like The Dark Knight of Gotham City. She consistently toes the line between what is lawful and what is right, she has grown to truly care for much of the people of Gotham and she possesses that physical and mental sharpness that you seem to value so highly in those who occasionally share your bed."

Snapping the folder shut with a clap, Martha slowly placed Selina's "file" on the desk and looked Bruce straight in the eye.

"Ah, but there's more to you than the bat and the fop, isn't there? There's still that little boy who couldn't help but endure Zatanna as she tried to impress you with one juvenile magic trick after the other. The young man who saw what a contented life he could have led if he could have ever seen eye-to-eye with the daughter of The Demon's Head and the man who sees more of what can be done if he breaks the limits his dreams put upon him. _That _is the part of you that Selina will never agree to be with. The smallest, strongest part of who you are. The child behind the bat and the man that wants to share rather than obtain or be obtained and Selina's not much for sharing, is she? You see that every time you trained with Cecilia and all those little moments when Iris comes toddling into the cave. It's those little moments that make you who you want to be and the times that lead her to hide behind what she thinks you _want _her to be."

Bruce remained still and quiet. It would have been impossible to say how much it had to do with the truth being laid bare in front of him and how much of himself he was putting in forming a response. Still, no matter what the proper proportions, Martha calmly rose back to her feet, the matching pairs of blue eyes locking slowly but surely.

"Every time you fall in love you set it up so that the love will always fail. You can blame it on being focused on your mission or whatever faults these women have but the person that you have to blame for wondering if you can ever have a regular life is the one that's looking back at you in the mirror." Martha extended her arms wide as if she were presenting herself once again but the smirk that remained on her lips provided the clear truth of the matter. "Body and brain of a champion, heart of a coward."

His limbs had sprung forward before he could stop him, his right fist crashing against his mother's cheek with a wicked crack of bone on bone. The tenacity of the swing nearly forced him into stumbling into the nearby desk but it was Martha who hit the ground hard, the side of her head colliding with the tile floor. Panic and shame left him momentarily stunned but his victim was stumbling to her feet before he could recover himself fully, her blouse becoming soaked with blood.

"Well, I've got to say that it didn't hurt this bad the first time."

* * *

The Black Dog made certain to pick his spot, the force bolt of eldritch energy striking the Metallo just low enough to stun the android but not high enough to damage the kryptonite core. Teleporting so that he would have easy access to the backside of his stumbling foe, the half-demon swordsman stooped and spun so that the edge of the _Mugalshir_ could easily sever the cyborg's metal hamstrings and dig deeply into the motion hydraulics embedded within the thick ankle joints. Ensnaring his prize with a dose of his telekinesis, he yanked the carefully hewn shard of alien rock and pulled it through the aperture made by the first supernatural attack. Piloting the radioactive material between the gap made by the Metallo's falling legs, he managed to carry the glowing green material to safety before the 900-pound automaton could damage the rare artifact with his fall.

"Bugger me, you lot are an unending supply of annoyance," the young Brit pronounced while carefully cocooning his loot within a bubble of telekinetic energy. That particular step in his plan was simple enough for someone of his power and experience but he began to feel the strain as he abandoned his physical control of the _Mugalshir _and sent the blade soaring towards another of his massive opponents. Gutting his target up to the hilt of his saber, he focused his mental manipulation on "wielding" the leather-bound pommel and lifted his newest victim into the air. The Black Dog winced from the neural strain as he fought back the Metallo's efforts to wrench the blade free before it could do any more damage and the burden only increased as he found himself forced to push back a blistering force bolt fired by another android with one of his own.

The reservations were there for a flicker, the feeling of exerting so much energy and the corresponding fear that it would take away even more of the scant supply of time that remained in his dwindling supply starting to weigh down on him. The conflict over whether it was partially physiological or completely psychological only served to feed the fire and it took a good proportion of his millennia of experience under fire to tuck it away where it belonged. Reservations rarely led to anything productive as far as it concerned the battlefield, after all. The Black Dog proved this as he grit his teeth, redoubled his efforts, and took full control of the airborne Metallo in order to send it crashing into the one that was attempting to incinerate him.

An anguished shout ripped through his ears and Lloyd zeroed in on it like a circling hawk. Still, as fast as he was, the source of the screech proved himself faster as he went to work eliminating the source of his pain. Instead he looked on, keeping his eyes open for anymore looming trouble as the radiated Kryptonian retrieved a 12 foot by 7 foot portion of the western wall. Tearing as he flew, the champion of Metropolis had soon transformed the mass of metal alloy into a small array of thin sheets. Lloyd tilted his head to one side as his comrade weathered the punches that came at him while welding the aluminum and lead composite plates over the exposed chest cavities of the surrounding Metallos with his heat vision. As he continued to examine the eventual results, The Black Dog guessed that the punishment he was forced to endure in the slivers of a second was certainly no fun but still a small price to pay as Superman knocked down the three Metallos that surrounded him with a series of lightning fast hooks and uppercuts.

Of course, Lloyd hardly wanted to present himself as someone who rested on his laurels. Teleporting quickly to stand side-by-side with The Man of Steel, the former assassin took to the task of removing the other kryptonite crystals and moving them so that they would all be housed in the same barrier as the sparklers that he had collected. A heartbeat later and the half-demon had left Metropolis entirely, his quick steps allowing him to easily pass through a long corridor within The Batcave on the way to a chamber specifically designed to store radioactive materials. Depositing the evidence and ill-gotten gains in a lead-lined sealable supply locker, he blinked his way back to Metropolis in an instant to discover that only four of the original nine Metallos were still standing.

"Well, that didn't seem _entirely _necessary," Superman noted while sending another automaton crashing to the ground with an authoritative haymaker. "For your sake, I'm hoping that my cousin is just as comfortable with this hand holding as I'm trying to be," he then added while ducking under a right hook thrown by his next opponent. Moving with the momentum of his attacker's right arm, he snagged the massive limb by its tricep and hefted the Metallo into a fireman's carry. Not even wincing as the lone unoccupied Metallo attempted to perforate his chest with a barrage of machine gun bullets, The Last Son of Krypton hefted the 900-pound android over his head before dropping it down, back first, on the chest of the Metallo he had knocked down just moments before, the impact creating a shower of sparks and a noisy collision of metal.

Meanwhile, just 15 yards to the north-northeast, Lloyd was already moving to complete his own share of the work. Deciding to stick with an old trick, he once again devoted his telekinesis to steer the _Mugalshir _into a tight, fast spin that easily deflected the pulse cannon of the Metallo to his left. With the grace of a symphonist he manipulated the supernaturally-empowered blade into tearing through the left arm and then the right arm of his foe, the heavy thumps and psychosomatically-spawned screams making for one hell of a cacophony. Now far too distracted to maintain their defenses, the Metallo fell after the blade sliced through the thick servos just above their knees.

Retrieving his blade with the act of a simple teleport, he blinked in and out of existence once again to appear at the back of the last foe standing. Interrupting their charge towards Superman with a kick to the small of the back, his interference left the Metallo surprised and stumbling right into the fist of the very person it had resigned itself to attack. The All-American countenance of The Man of Steel was marred by a grimace as he managed to sink his brawny forearm into the inner workings of the robots chest cavity, the pain made only more evident as he took the crystal of kryptonite into his right hand before tossing the rest of the automaton aside. Continuing to think quickly, the British telepath took to the skies as Superman tossed the radioactive rock towards the ceiling of what was thought to be an abandoned Lexcorp supply warehouse. Retrieving the harmful material with ease, The Black Dog teleported away in an instant, returned to The Batcave, safely stored his prize away where it wouldn't harm others, and then returned to the factory in a matter of seconds.

"Those Metallos certainly lacked the strength of the original. Still, this trap shouldn't be so well organized," Superman noted upon The Black Dog's return. "It's clear that we were steered here but there's still some questions that need looking into."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," Lloyd said in agreement, the younger of the two men letting out a breath as he placed his feet back on solid ground. "I mean, all the ludicrously expensive security measures aside, there's got to be more to this than your arch rival showcasing that he's got millions of dollars to throw away."

"Well, that depends on how you want to look at it, stranger," explained another voice, the owner of it a mystery to The Black Dog but instantly recognizable to The Man of Steel. "Well, what I'm saying is that you're a bit of a mystery to us so we don't know how much the death of Superman would mean to you."

* * *

_Metropolis – Apartment of Clark Kent and Lois Lane – 5:11 P.M. Central Standard Time_

Lois detachedly noticed Ollie step in behind her and shut the door. She quickly went about with removing her coat, placing her purse on its familiar spot on the unused recliner that stared straight at the sparingly used big-screen television and fetched a kettle from one of the cabinets in the kitchen all without even paying a whit of attention to her guest. The reporter continued her impassive ways as she brought the metal vessel to the faucet, filled it to the brim with water, and only let out a mild look of chagrin as she placed it down on the stove burner with just enough harshness to let a little liquid eke out from the hole between the lid and the rim. Deciding that it was a day for Earl Grey, she rifled through the cupboard that neighbored the state-of-the-art refrigerator and fetched the bag she was looking for, shook it briefly, and then dunked it inside before closing the lid.

As for the aforementioned Oliver Queen, the longtime vigilante champion of Star City felt himself at an astonishing loss. Granted, he had known Clark and Lois for years and had never known the pair to have any real kind of friction or frays in their loyalty but he still couldn't help but deny the appeal of the proposition at hand. Then again, his conscience had grown bolder with the mistakes and consequences of the past and was now hard at work with deluging his thoughts with a litany of counterarguments. He wanted to make himself a better person than he was in the past, someone who looked at the lives of others as a whole before giving in to the offered instincts that a moment in life could offer. He wanted Connor and Mia to keep looking on him with pride that they had made the right call rather than shame that they had once again been led down the wrong path. He didn't want to get on the bad side of a man who could drop a mountain range on him.

Convinced that things were heading in the right direction, Lois calmly slipped off her heels and kicked them against a short bookcase that bordered the boundary of the kitchen. "Well, come on. Get into the bedroom. No use wasting any more time here."

Ollie's eyes were wide as he partially followed the swing of Lois's hips as she made her exit, a thousand rationalizations and disputes bouncing about his head. Not trusting his feet until his mind had made a solid decision, the well-dressed former mayor briefly ran his fingers through his stylish beard as his lips twisted into a frown. "Um, look. I know we've known each other for a long time and. . . I mean, it's not like I'm not flattered. . . I just don't think I should be getting in between whatever is going on here between you and your husband."

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Lois, the sharpness of both her reappearance and her tone giving Ollie a start. Poking her head out into the doorway, her brow was briefly knitted in confusion before she managed to put things together and that prompted her purple eyes to flare up in an alarming fashion. "Oh sweet Jesus, you sad, horny old goat! Would you just get in here!"

Finding himself surprisingly relieved to have the slate made clean, Ollie tucked both his ego and his hands into his pockets as he strolled down the hallway and into the bedroom. The far side of the room, from the dresser to the small oaken end table to even that half of the bed, was immaculately clean, the fortunate consequences of a former boy scout's obnoxious diligence. Lois's portion was also neatly organized but there were some elements of wastefulness about. A large book stuck halfway in and out of the underside of the bed, a mess of stray papers on the dresser. It all but screamed of a person born in a military household and taking pride in it but still wanting to prove that it didn't define them. And, as if the irony wasn't enough for his sardonic likings, the man behind Green Arrow merely had to turn to his left to see the daughter of General Sam Lane calmly fiddling about with a keypad that looked to be straight out of a Bond movie.

"So did this feature come with the apartment or did you have to pay extra for the premium super-secret alien technology package?"

Lois did not even bother with a glower as the familiar, lead-lined door was unveiled with the dropdown of the cloaking technology copied straight from her husband's Fortress of Solitude. Unlocking the door with a simple retinal scan, she maintained her neutrality as the doors slid outward as she and Ollie made their way inside.

"Because bear in mind, and I'm just talking off the hairs of my ass here," Ollie wore on as he slowed his march down to a stroll. "Just what would you think would happen if you could just proliferate all these fancy gadgets that you just stuff into your glorified duplex. I mean, Brucie and I are both paying hand over fist to fund a whole bunch of non-profit, after school programs and I think our volunteers would feel a lot less stressed out if they could just teleport to and from work."

"I think the 110,000 miles on my 2005 Chevy Malibu might have something to say about you saying that my husband and I are always taking the easy way out," Lois growled back while shouldering Ollie aside and taking back the lead. It was only a few more steps before she turned and stopped in front of another keypad, this one covered by a semicircular lead plate that kept away any prying eyes. "All right. This is a chamber that not even my husband has access to. The reason _you _get to see it is because you're the kind of person who will keep blathering on about somebody else's secrets until everybody just thinks its just another supply of bull shit. Are we clear?"

"My lips aren't sealed," Ollie gamely answered back, the playboy smirking before running his tongue between his teeth. Within moments the next door had slid open and he was greeted with a sight that was halfway between impressive and disturbing. The walls were covered in clippings and papers and dry erase boards, the festoons of information enough to rival Bruce on his most obsessive days. While Lois moved to turn on lights and switch on an aged computer monitor, Ollie continued to poke away at his temptations by moving closer to the walls, his eyes searching for datelines and familiar names. Some of the revelations stunned him, others coerced him into nodding or humming as he mulled the matters over but the important matter was that his sense of conspiratorial intrigue was palpitating.

"Y'know, this is something that Vic Sage would have set up if we had ever given him his own room at The Watchtower."

But he still had to be just a bit of an asshole.

"Now as far as I can tell from all the data I've collected, a lot of this starts off with Mao Tenryu taking a more active stance on what's going on outside of Hong Kong," Lois began, the brusque comment going ignored. "That brings Lloyd Thomas into Gotham and he's the one who helps calm down the Spectre after it went months without a host before. Crispus Allen is forced to take on the role after his death in the Gotham riots while Billy Banner gains greater control over the supernatural portions of the world with the aid of the Superman from Earth-2. Couple that with Batman's violent takedown of The Secret Society and the marked decrease in the city's crime rate and that's when we start to see the cycle begin to spread itself out."

"Wow, it's amazing how much of that I didn't understand."

"Just listen!" Lois barked back, the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter annoyed that she had to break away from her active stream of thought. "So word gets out that Batman, the one all the bad guys whisper about while they're yelling about how they're going to bury Superman and Wonder Woman into the center of the Earth, has gotten tough on crime and has found a team that is willing to follow his lead. Brainiac goes off the radar, Mongul decides to put a moratorium on his monthly plans on taking over the world, and Lex Luthor just drops off the map altogether. Hell, just look back at Gotham! There you've got Edward Nigma and Oswald Cobblepot setting up legitimate business enterprises and people like The Joker, Harvey Dent, and Pamela Isley, three people who combined escaped from Arkham Asylum 37 times in 7 years and they haven't willingly moved from their confinement in the last three."

"Okay, so things are looking better," Ollie admitted, the vigilante still decidedly confused as to where all of this was going.

Lois turned back around, her upturned brow making Ollie feel that he had just stepped into a bear trap.

"So why is Lex trying so hard to change that?"

* * *

Scandal was trying to focus on the fact that Corben was apparently twisting and altering the machinery around him to suit his own designs but, being a businesswoman, she still couldn't help but bemoan the potential cost figures of what was going on around her. Millions of dollars of state-of-the-art medical equipment from electron-scanning microscopes to centrifuges to biopsy scanners all now being rudely transformed into uncomplicated war machinery that would be doubtlessly employed in an attempt to maim and destroy her and her comrades. The mere wastefulness of it made her mind swim with how she would have to explain the matter to government shareholders and that only lead back to the headache that seemed to run jointly with her increasingly complicated life and _that _only brought her back to the fact that somebody was trying to kill her.

And it hardly helped that Corben began to talk again as the battle began anew.

"We can't all be lucky like you guys," he began as his newfound army began to fire away with pulse blasts that mirrored his own. "Some of us have to wait a lifetime to find our purpose but now I've found mine thanks to Intergang. No more bein' the mindless grunt that I set myself out to be, that others wanted me to be. Now I know what I gotta do."

The leader of The Secret Six was quite willing to reply but found herself unable to do so when an energy bolt slammed into her left shoulder and spun her about. She hit the back wall of the laboratory before she finally plummeted to the floor, the smell of charred flesh and bone invading her nostrils yet that only supplied the immortal with extra motivation to leap to her feet and dart back and forth to avoid a repeat. The golden lightning that wreathed the interior part of the chamber offered some solid evidence that The Flash was up and about but she was soon scanning the room to find another matter that was potentially amiss. Using the katar portion of her Lamentation Blades to skewer a miniature Metallo that had once been a portion of an IV machine, she turned to her right to find Mister Freeze and discovered that her comrade was standing unusually still despite the chaos.

_Just what is the extent of Corben's new power? I mean, is it enough to take control over Victor's armor? _The questions jostled about in Scandal's head as she dove to the right to avoid The Flash's body flying backward as a result of Corben's vicious right hook. _My God, he may be able to kill the old man right here and now, _she then recognized as she vaulted over a medical bench that had suddenly grown hands and lashed her claws against Corben's face. She couldn't dig her blades in thanks to the sheer density and strength of the material but the human portions that remained on Metallo's face suffered some nasty scratches that prompted the android to let out an instinctual growl.

"Metal is really gonna be the way of the world now, little girlie. Intergang will wipe every useless thing off this planet and replace it with steel and _I'm _going to be the lead constructor," Corben taunted while allowing his newfound minions to hold back the young immortal. "But in the meantime, I'll use this gift o' mine to smash a bit more flesh and bone. Apparently Circe wants him to realize that he don't know what he had 'til it's gone."

Corben seemed to slip into the floor itself. _Luthor altered his body, made him able to slip through metal like the fucking Terminator. That's how he managed to get into the laboratory without needing to break open a door, _Scandal realized, her body and mind both occupied with the deadly remainders. Then, prone as she was to do after decades of learning strategy and motivation analysis, she managed to work out another possibility and her eyes went wide with alarm as she realized where Corben was going next.

Third floor basement, a safe house with metal security walls, and three children inside.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

So I took my first trip back to the old local comic book store after about a two-month absence the other day. I tried my best to stay awake to read some of DC's A Whole New World whatever the hell they're calling it, caught up on Buffy: Season Nine and The Walking Dead (curse that mildly intriguing television show for leading me to a far superior telling of the tale). Still, I have to confess that much of my creative drive found itself being directed toward Marvel in general and Fear Itself in particular. Yes, I know that it's been a few months since Marvel's LIFE-CHANGING CROSSOVER OMG PLEASE BUY ALL THE TIEOVERS event but it does make an old comic book fan ask himself a few questions.

Since when did it become so easy to be a Hulk? I would like to be an indigo Hulk if the opportunity presents itself so I could star in a DC/Marvel crossover that involves an immense beast smashing tanks by giving them big, compassionate, loving hugs.

So Reed Richards, the smartest man on the planet, observes a bunch of people obtaining power by grabbing mythical hammers and using it to cause all sorts of chaos. So when he goes to retrieve one of them he has already gathered that he should have his best friend go take a hold of it and doesn't think that this might be a bad idea until the very last second?

And Piotr Rasputin is The Juggernaut? Yes, I know he did it to save his sister that is back from the dead for the 14th time but who would ever think this to be a good idea? What do we even call him? The Collosonaut?

Actually, that might be kinda funny.

* * *

_Issue #136 Preview_

All right! So Batman has gone from wanting to have sex with his mother to wanting to kill her! Progress! Of course, there may still be some consequences as The Dark Knight battles his way through one of the darkest parts of him before his very soul can eat him alive. Ah, and Metallo wwants a piece of the kids, a whole bunch of people want a piece of Superman, and Kara is left to hold the fort with a gigantic luchadore and a dandy man with a monkey fetish. All this and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: I've Got Friends in Low Hell Dimensions. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	136. I've Got Friends in Low Hell Dimensions

Issue #136

I've Got Friends in Low Hell Dimensions

_Metropolis – Abandoned Warehouse (Formerly Lexcorp Distributions Facility 492C) – 5:22 P.M. Central Standard Time_

Already surrounded by enough shattered machinery to doubtlessly leave Linda Park-West enflamed with righteous indignation towards blatantly aggrandized privatized spending practices if she were to ever lay her eyes upon it, The Black Dog tried his best to be receptive as another mechanized hunk of worthlessness lumbered into view. Of course, he couldn't help but deny that part of his irritability may have had to do with his long standing annoyance towards combat robots. Truth be told, the suit seemed to be put together impressively, the material both showier and seemingly more efficient than the mound of Metallos brokenly clustered about. Still, his attention was soon devoted to other points of interest like the blue-skinned woman whose body hummed with massive amounts of static electricity, a purple-garbed abomination with warped facial skin and a hate-covered glimmer in his beetle black eyes, and a grey-skinned beast whose expression seemed to teeter back and forth between vacant and thrilled.

"Toyman," Superman noted, the tone somewhere along the lines of a cold greeting. "Livewire, Parasite, and Bizarro."

"Hey! No bleeding fair! I already put you behind bars not two weeks ago!" Lloyd exclaimed, the sudden immaturity drawing a somewhat skeptical stare from his older colleague. As for Livewire, the former radio shock jock merely shrugged her shapely shoulders as tendrils of energy continued to dance around her fingertips.

"What can I say, sweetie? Intergang made sure that I had an early parole."

"Except Blackgate is expecting you back," Superman countered, his statement drawing some knowing chuckles from the collage of longtime nemeses. "_All _of you are wanted by the authorities so it would be best for all of you to stand down now before we have to put you down."

"Oh, but you know us too well to expect that out of us, don't you, Superman?" Toyman said silkily, the mechanical genius, murderer, and pedophile enjoying every hint of his advantage. "And, like we said before, we're only here for you. This 'Black Dog' fellow can leave at any time."

That revelation did prompt Superman to raise his eyebrows, the expression still taking hold on his countenance as he turned to face his equally intrigued compatriot. "They know you. . . " he began with mock hesitancy, "but I don't think they _know _you."

The British half-demon felt free to let out a chuckle. "Well, one thing I do know is that Luthor just employed some high-end teleportation technology to get them in here. I mean, there wasn't a trace of these guys until just a few seconds ago."

"Well, that's just another important thing to remember then," Superman replied, the hero, journalist, and warrior continuing to look the situation over. "Look out for Parasite; the one in purple. He may be able to drain your powers."

"Must we go on with this worthless talk?" Parasite grumbled, the power thief sounding as famished and ravenous as his shriveled appearance made him to appear. "I want the magic in that boy. Its potency calls to me nearly as loudly as the alien's."

"Bizarro want more taken from him," added Bizarro, the intellectual polar opposite of The Last Son of Krypton looking slightly haggard although his bristling muscles informed all around him that the powerhouse was still ready for a fight. Briefly examining the colossus, Lloyd felt that all was not quite right with Superman's sallow-skinned twin and suspected that Parasite may have had something to do with it. "Bizarro smell ugly girl on little man in black. Bizarro does not want to smash it out of him."

"Well, you are popular, aren't you?" Superman whimsically asked The Black Dog as the tensions continued to mount. "As for all of you, I don't suppose that it was your old friend Lex who goaded all of you into making your presence felt?"

"Luthor sent us," Bizarro chirped. Well, as much as a seven-foot, 420 pound hulkish mass of grey muscle and sinew could squeak through such broad vocal chords. "One thing Bizarro knows that it not the cave man who sent us. It was not the cave man."

"Will you _please _be quiet, you simpleton!" hissed Toyman, the little man inside the massive battle armor somehow managing to berate his physical superior into a state of cowed silence. Then, letting out a world weary sigh, he turned to face his outnumbered quarry once again. "Well, as if the information will be of any value to you, it was Vandal Savage who gave us this grand opportunity. And, with the plentiful supply of available kryptonite that can be employed to weaken our common enemy, it will only be a matter of time before Superman falls before our collective might with or without any support he may have at his disposal."

"Uhhhhh, we no use hurt rock?" asked Bizarro, the towering brute scratching his coarse, stringy black hair as Livewire shook her head in dismay. "Bizarro like hurt rock. Hurt rock makes ugly girl go away! Bizarro would always like to see it again."

"And now I can feel my brain just swimming around in its juices," Lloyd said matter-of-factly while taking the _Mugalshir _in hand with a smile. "Oi! High pockets. Want me to bring you to Supes's pretty cousin. 'Cause she knows me quite well."

Bizarro's once-lifeless black eyes ignited with fury even while the mighty Parasite was attempting to put a stop to the ongoing momentum by siphoning more power from the dim-witted creature. "You know ugly girl! Bizarro not beat you up to find pretty girl!"

The Black Dog kept himself from laughing aloud as Superman's polar opposite began the battle with a bull charge that was as fast as it was poorly focused. Employing the reflexes and sound instincts offered to him, the young telepath weaved his own brand of magic to teleport behind the charging beast to avoid the first vicious haymaker. As Bizarro struggled to overcome his disbelief and his less agile comrades began to spring into action, the magician continued to sift through his opponent's jumbled gray matter. The neural feedback was something akin to the sudden buck of a wild bronco that had been sought after many a time and had come to learn how to wiggle free but The Black Dog continued to hold on to his task even as Toyman's robot opened fire with a blast from its left gauntlet that sizzled in his ears even as it passed just slightly overhead. His facial muscles tightened and his teeth clenched as Bizarro's once rampant motions began to slow to a halt but the strain still wasn't enough to keep his eyes from wandering about the battlefield and looking for ways that the other opponents could get outside and bring innocent bystanders in the line of fire.

"And just _what _do you expect me to do with these things, Mister Thomas? Honestly, it isn't as if I don't have enough things to look after already."

If he were to continue maintaining his metaphor, Lloyd probably would have equated Noah Kuttler's sudden interruption to the bronco hurling him forward so that he was forced to hang on for dear life by clutching on the stallion's shaggy mane. Bizarro's bare, ashen feet were sent into a fast stumble like the powerhouse was on the verge of breaking into a barely remembered jig before he shook his head to and fro and charged at Lloyd with renewed bloodlust.

"Bloody, buggerin' hell, C.C.! I swear that I will wear your guts for garters if I get out of this without this brute wearing my hindquarters for a hat!"

"Well, I apologize but I'm afraid that there is more to storing dangerously radioactive material than simply stuffing them inside a supply locker!" The Calculator barked back from the safe confines of The Batcave nearly 700 miles away. There was a rustle that Lloyd could somehow hear clearly through the communicator despite the whirring of the hydraulic lifters in Toyman's battle armor, the rogue sound clearly the byproduct of Noah dutifully searching through the shards of extraterrestrial radiation. "Different sizes. Different structures. . . shapes. . . My lord, this one is blue, Black Dog! Were you even _listening _during Batman's briefing about the differing kinds of kryptonite?"

"As much as I could without falling unconscious from boredom," Lloyd countered while continuing to up the temperature of his force barrier so that the bullets fired from Toyman's rail guns would melt rather than ricochet. The Lexcorp factory had a sturdy foundation and brick walls to go with it but the facility was also close to one of the major downtown walkways of the city and he felt no desire to endanger the hundreds of people just outside these walls who were just trying to find their way home. "Look. If you're in the hazmat storage unit then you've already got that radiation suit on. Just overcome your OCD for a bit and just wait 'til I get back and I'll sort it out myself."

Speaking of handling his burdens, Lloyd felt his lips loosen as the most difficult of his battles finally concluded. Finally having some breathing room, he turned to find Superman and discovered his colleague employing a large metal girder to keep Parasite from getting close enough to siphon away his prodigious strength and fortitude. Following the neural signatures, the telepath then briefly noticed Livewire lying on the floor unconscious, her skintight bodysuit drenched in water and the empty barrels around her jostling about from the ambient static electricity still leaking from her fingers.

"All right, this needs to come to a stop," Lloyd declared before finally looking Toyman eye-to-eye. He pointed his right ring finger and the mechanist's sneering façade and waited patiently as a blur of gray, blue, and purple hurtled past him out of the corner of his right eye. He tried not to revel in the moment as one of Superman's oldest enemies shrieked and screamed as Bizarro tore apart Toyman's battle armor, the telepath still slightly encumbered by making certain that the Superman from an alternate reality did not use so much of his awe-inspiring strength that he would crush the vibranium carapace around Toyman like it was a plastic cup.

"Come on, Jones. I know you like to pass yourself off as another hired gun but you're smart enough to see the writing on the wall!" Superman exclaimed, the hero still somehow looking forceful even as he was slowly backpedaling away from the purple-skinned scrounger. "Luthor's just using you all as examples! He has some kind of new plan and a whole bunch of allies to go with it and he's using you to flex his muscles. He's throwing all of you to the wolves!"

"Don't care about that much," Parasite insisted, his gnarled but powerful left hand shaking at the thought of taking in another taste of Kryptonian vigor. "I just want to watch you die."

Superman swung the steel beam sideways and caught his opponent in the left side of his rib cage, the stern metal giving way thanks to the durability that Parasite had pilfered from Bizarro. The ground rattled from the impact but his determined opponent merely stumbled and fell slowly to the dusty floor before returning to his feet in a matter of seconds. "Better people than you have taken shots at me before, Parasite," he conceded while presenting his open palms. It was a rather worthless gesture, at least as far as it came to self-defense, but still quite permissible as Bizarro rushed forward and cracked Parasite's jaw with another vicious haymaker. The jarring impact was kept closely cropped by a suddenly crafted force barrier that the towering leech crashed into heavily before falling to the floor as down for the count as his colleagues.

"They just usually end up in a less embarrassing position," Superman concluded, the telepathic warning he had received from his comrade allowing him to prepare for the unexpected happenstance and look on calmly at the sight of Parasite lying ass-over-teakettle from the force of Bizarro's attack. Sensing movement from where he had just turned away, he raised his eyebrows as his bizarre doppelganger scratching at his scalp and staring at him with an intriguing mixture of confusion and dismay.

"Bizarro. . . do good?"

"I would say so," Superman conceded, the world's most respected champion turning to The Black Dog and rewarding the young half-demon with a respectful nod.

* * *

_Tenryu Tower – Subbasement Holding Cell – 9:40 A.M._

John Corben was not about to have any mercy for the unknowing toddlers, the nervous little chink kid or the useless woman who kept the smaller meat bags at her back. He even briefly pondered over his options: bludgeoning, bloodletting, or outright incineration as the man turned machine and murderer quietly reveled how he had outsmarted his foes once again. They had underestimated him and taken what he was capable of for granted and now the precious, sanctimonious heroes would pay for their ego by having to scrub away the blood of their children off their hands until their thoughts ran raw. What little of his human flesh quivered and the vibrations of his body turned the skin slightly flush and thus provided a somewhat decent match for the sigil of flame that suddenly surrounded his three future victims. A gullet of flame exploded in front of his eyes and blew him backwards, his posterior crashing awkwardly against the unforgiving interior.

"Well, if it is not Luthor's most beloved lap dog," a familiar voice said calmly, the source of it somehow rising from the odd conglomeration of glowing pentagrams and archaic representations of supernatural design. Broad in the chest and shoulders, he easily towered over the humans he had apparently chosen to protect and even nearly stood toe-to-toe with Metallo as the automaton rose back to his feet. "I see that you have stripped away even more of your former humanity since our last encounter. How predictable that such a petty human would be so keen on removing one of the few aspects of himself that could inspire any kind of pride."

The scabs of flesh around Corben's lips twisted along with his metallic joints and came together with a snarl. "I never liked bein' looked down upon, freak, an that's really true when it comes from some hairy beast like you."

If the decidedly unholy protector was at all insulted by the crude taunt then his slow smirk served to hide it well. "I am here, with great reluctance, on behalf of Dabura, The Demon King. He has pledged his fealty towards the protection of Jai and Iris West and while I would personally be loathe to accept such an undertaking upon request, I must confess that the addendum of handing you what remains of your hide does make this matter a great deal more appealing."

Hearing footsteps, the guardian tilted his proud head slightly and saw young Lian Harper out of the corner of his eye as she moved to hide behind the aforementioned toddlers. The coffee-skinned preadolescent earned a doleful glare from the mother of the twin children but she seemed to have no trouble with calmly shrugging her shoulders and continuing to remain where she was.

"A wise decision, little one."

Much like her father would in situations such as these, Lian proudly responded with a cheery nod.

"Yeah, well, don't start thinking that you're the one in control here," Corben barked back, his body again suffused within an emerald glow. Stooping so that his mammoth fists could merge and fuse within the metal around his feet, he kept his eyes on his hirsute adversary all the while as his surroundings began to shift and twist to better suit his needs. "A whole lot's changed in a little amount of time and now I've got a power that you couldn't even dream of."

Gorilla Grodd brought the massive, stubby fingers of his right hand to his chin and rubbed the protruding bone and flesh even while the humans he was ordained to protect began to startle and panic. "For once we have something in common then," he replied as his wide brow furrowed in response to his intense concentration. "However, let us not spend too much time dismissing the methodology that brought us success in the past, shall we?"

Tendrils of jagged metal had already begun to rise from the floor but not even the hammering cadence of a panicked heartbeat was fast enough to keep pace with Corben realizing that all was not as he wanted it to be. Instead of enveloping his fleshy prey and puncturing the tender flesh his newfound weapons slumped back down to its original state of motionless metal. He was becoming more and more convinced that there wasn't any need to resort to such violence. There was so much more that he could do with his newfound talents. Perhaps he could start his own construction firm. . .

"Get out of my head, ya fuckin' monkey!" Metallo growled as he broke free of Grodd's hypnosis, his glittering green eye blaring away along with the frustration of its owner. "Yeah, you couldn't get as much of a hold on me as you wanted, did ya? I'm getting closer to what I wanna be every second! Ain't nobody going to be able to stop meURRRGH!"

It was thanks to the virulence of his opponent's diatribe that Grodd was able to employ his speed to knock over Metallo with a charging bull tackle. Pinning the arms of the gargantuan automaton as best he could, his cracked lips briefly let out a trickle of blood as he turned to the stunned humans.

"Get them out of here now, human woman! I cannot continue to protect you in these limited confines."

"You should. . . be worried about protectin' yourself," Metallo growled back as Linda began to hustle her children away from the dangers of the safe house. "NO! Stay where the hell ya are, ya little brats!" he then exclaimed as his targets rushed past the fray. The angle that Grodd had chosen to pinion his arms left him unable to get a clear shot from his energy gauntlets so he chose to take the frustration from his failure out on whatever was left. Another second passed before Corben's nearly inexhaustible carapace had accumulated the energy to throw Grodd aside as if he were a gnat, his left arm shifting and morphing even as the ape slammed into the eastern wall. Machine gun bullets sprayed from the barrels of his distorted left hand, the hundreds of slugs tearing through Grodd's flesh until the bits of metal had ripped away the flesh and could begin to tear away at muscle and bone.

"Just because the old ways are reliable doesn't mean that you shouldn't pay attention to the new," Grodd slowly pointed out, the regenerating connective tissues surrounding his jaw and trachea allowing him the opportunity to voice his counsel He continued to weather the hail of gunfire even as he charged at his staggered adversary once again, the brawny arms of the undead commander pushing Metallo back into the western wall with a force that rattled the nearly unbreakable walls. The genetically evolved simian shifted the grip of his left hand so that his fingers could wrap around Metallo's gun arm and he twisted and pressed with all the strength he could muster. The sound of an anguished grunt and the shattering of metal rang like music through the telepath's dead ears in spite of the uselessness of the gesture as Corben merely reconstituted himself while pushing his attacker aside.

"You once again misjudge the deceptive constitution of flesh and bone. . . particularly that which has been blessed by divinities most unholy," Grodd informed Metallo as the android pondered over the possibilities. "I would be keen to test whether or not the same gifts apply to your own remains but it would appear that you have a more pressing commitment."

Corben's electromagnetic sensors were able to pick up the wave of kinetic energy surging towards him a nanosecond before it bulled him over like a speeding semi would force aside a hatchback. Reports of shattered sections of his carapace and damage to servo joints throughout his body blared in front of his eyes even as he tried to swat aside his tormentor but there was no relief to be had. It was only thanks to his newly acquired regenerative abilities that allowed him to weather the blitzkrieg of punishing punches thrown by the enraged blur of crimson, his manipulation of metal eventually proving to be enough of a relief to be able to slam his right fist into the jaw of his adversary and allow him to return to his feet.

A howl of incoherent frenzy was all that Metallo could hear before he was knocked down once again, the android suffering from the unique combination of anger, determination and guilt that only a failed guardian could truly provide. "Le. . . Boss!" Corben managed to shout out over the maelstrom of violence. "I already got what ya wanted! Ya gotta. . . gotta get me out of here!"

Another beam of iridescent light, this one the purest white rather than the wave of scarlet red that had preceded Grodd's arrival, suddenly invaded the room and enveloped Corben within its grasp. Looking on from a respectable distance, the aforementioned ape only needed to blink before Metallo was gone from sight, so much so that the attacker's next handful of punches met nothing but air before The Fastest Man Alive finally managed to gear down. Suddenly having an inkling of respect for the man he once thought to be little more than a whelp, Grodd exercised his patience and waited for the young father to face him. When The Flash finally chose to do so, Grodd recognized that he did not need the gift of telepathy to see the human's thoughts teetering between accusation and suspicion before finally settling on caution. To be brutally frank, such determined clear-headedness was a quality that a distinguished leader such as Grodd could respect regardless of whether or not he felt the need to voice such a thought.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked The Flash, his inklings of disbelief brushed aside by the continued need to right a critical wrong. The solemnity of it all goaded a slow smirk onto Grodd's face just a moment after he was ready to express his overall dissatisfaction.

"It would appear that fate has adopted a rather vulgar sense of humor."

* * *

Sweeping her eyes back and forth between her most recent assailant and the ones that still clustered about the cramped confines of the classroom, Cassandra Sandsmark glared back at the expressionless eyes of her stepbrother, a god of warfare, and began to size things up as best she could.

"So what are you supposed to be?" she asked while hunching her lower legs and positioning her hands so that her forearms would hover in front of her chest in a Wushu-style stance. The gesture was one of the few things she had profited from in Tim's handful of attempts to train her in his style of combat. "Are you really Ares or just another figment of this warped imagination?"

A cold and familiar glower emerged on Ares's stern countenance even as his eyes held a thick air of malice. "You tell me. . . seeing as how this is a landscape of your own thoughts and guilty suspicions. Perhaps you look upon a god who has seen, started, and ended more wars than your pitiful brain could even count, a symbol of violence angered by your squandering of his gifts and weaponry. All those tools and gifts I bestowed upon my blood kin and the only reward you've attempted to provide in exchange being months upon months of pitiful pining and capitulation to one human flaw after the other."

Cassandra brought her right hand to her hip holster out of instinct, the young demigod reaching for the golden rope at her side so quickly that it prompted Ares to let out another discontented grumble. "Or maybe it is what you believe. Perhaps I am just some machination of your own guilty conscience but even you have the intelligence to realize that I would not be here if you didn't need something to broadcast your continual failures. You possess the powers of a god and yet it is all you can do to keep what little remains of your pathetic existence. Your first love butchered in the streets, your friends slaughtered before your very eyes and all the missed opportunities that could have prevented them from happening. Perchance it would just be best for everyone if you went back to your father's repair shop and dallied about with business cards, yes? You wouldn't have lives on the line there."

Wonder Girl realized that Ares wasn't making any efforts to defend himself but that wasn't about to stop her. She had come to be quite good at gathering her anger and storing it into her strength and the fair-haired warrior woman proved that competency once again by hammering her half-brother with a vicious haymaker that caught the god on the underside of his left jaw. Launched from the impact, the millennia-old warrior was still cavorting and spiraling even after he crashed through the wall before skidding into the next classroom in a rain of cement and plaster.

"Fine. No more excuses," Cassandra considered while the once docile students around her began to stir. "This time we'll just go straight to the fighting."

And Wonder Girl didn't have anything more to say but, if she had, she would have soon found that the vine-like strips of sinew wrapping around her body would have made it quite difficult to do so. Choosing to spend her time more efficiently, she weathered the searing pain in her right shoulder as a blast of heat vision managed to make impact on one of the few spots of her body that wasn't enveloped in melted White Martian flesh and pushed her body into a fast spin that loosened the restraints that were attempting to suffocate her. Capturing what was supposed to be the liquefied remains of her old friend Miss Martian with a sturdy grip, she flung the mass of tissue straight at the false Superboy in an attempt to kill two birds with one stone. Risk was decapitated and downed with a savate-style thrust kick taken straight from Tim Drake's playbook before she was once again sent flying with a hook delivered at somewhere around Mach 2. Feeling her broken jaw knitting itself together as she crashed through the western wall of the classroom and into a water fountain just outside the hallway, the junior partner of Themyscira's emissary to the world managed to catch a lucky break as she managed to ensnare Kid Flash's right wrist within a cross arm trap block as the speedster attempted to follow up his success. A stiff right jab to the temple seemed to throw the poor mimic of Bart Allen for a loop but Cassie still felt determined to finish the job before a flash bomb exploded at her feet and made her feel as if her eyeballs were preparing to detonate inside her skull.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea how much a really bad part of me is looking forward to this," Wonder Girl growled back as she chucked aside the unconscious Kid Flash before advancing on the last foe standing. Weathering the sting of the metal baton slamming into the left side of her head, she thrust her right hand forward and snagged what was supposed to be Timothy Drake by his neck. Feeling a tinge of guilt at the garbled gurgle that escaped from "Robin's" lips, the Amazonian demigoddess wasted no time in grabbing her adversary by his forehead with her free hand. Keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground, she yanked upward and winced as she messily decapitated her final tormentor, the spray of blood and gore thankfully avoided for the most part thanks to Robin's speedy tumbling to the ground.

A searing pain in Cassandra's back brought whatever morbid celebration she could have had to an end. She had sensed the attack a fraction of a second before it happened but it still wasn't enough to fully avoid the edge of the sharp blade from scraping along the base of her spinal cord. Still somewhat fueled by her adrenaline, the warrior woman kept her balance and stumbled forward only a few steps from the impact. Her blood soon soaking the severed threads of her torn vest, she bent her body into a tuck and dove forward to avoid a double-handed slash that would have left her opponent's battle ax to bury itself straight into her skull.

"Just who do you think you are, you besotted pest?" Ares asked caustically, the blood still dripping from his hatchet. "Crying over failures and bemoaning them rather than taking more of what is rightfully yours! Leaving pathetic mortals to determine where, when, and how you choose to wage war! How could you ever believe that this was the attitude of a worthy avatar?"

Moving with speed that belied his size, the bloodthirsty deity brought his weapon over his head before bringing it back down with both hands. A vociferous _CLANG!_ rang through the empty hall as the mystic metal met its crafting cousin, the ax crashing into the bracers on Cassandra's wrists that were tempered by the very fires of Hephaestus's hearth. The protection kept Wonder Girl's body safe from harm but the jarring force of the collision pushed her body backward until she fell onto her back, a sharp lance of pain roaring from her wrists to her cerebral cortex even as she tumbled back to her feet. Ares was on the move before Cassandra could fully regain herself, the veteran of countless battlefields ready to finish the job he started.

"Who am I?" Cassandra asked back while ducking under and around the double-handed lash that followed. "I'm your exceedingly younger sister."

Wonder Girl chose to define the implications of that certain characteristic by clouting Ares with a leaping double axe-handle to the temple. She caught him squarely before the older god could finish his swing to the point where the hatchet's long handle caught her slightly on the left side of her abdomen with enough force to nearly pry the dangerous weapon away from Ares's hands. Following her foe as he fell, she feinted a thrust kick with her left foot that prompted Ares to block with his ax before lashing out with the other foot with a blow that caught Ares on the underside of his right wrist. Paying close attention to how the ax slid away from its wielder, Cassandra intercepted the sloppy punch that followed by trapping the god's brawny wrist within a hammer lock that left an arm free to reach for her lasso. Ensnaring the captured limb with a hasty but neatly tied knot, she summoned the lariat's mystic electricity to briefly stun her adversary before flinging Ares into the nearby lockers with another ear-shattering impact.

By the time Ares could recover himself, he could feel his own axe hovering near his neck.

"I've heard that you've survived worse than this," Cassandra confessed before twisting her arms back to summon up the strength for a mighty swing. The hatchet was swooping back forward as its wielder was blown back by an unearthly gust, the intensity of the blast's heat scalding Wonder Girl's face as both she and her newfound weapon were flung backward. The stolen ax lost and forgotten by the unexpected circumstance, the Teen Titan returned to her feet while being looked upon by an unfamiliar figure, a creature far more genteel and dangerous than an eternal warmonger.

"You have done well to succeed in your trial, Cassandra Sandsmark. As of this moment forward, the truths I will bring witness to you will be those offered only by your own volition."

* * *

"All we're looking at here is rumor and innuendo, Lane. Maybe the guy is jealous that somebody else might have figured out how to solve all our problems. Maybe he thinks that whatever 'new world order' that's being cooked up doesn't give him enough of a slice of the pie. Hell, maybe somebody dumped his moisturizing cream into a bottle of canine hair conditioner and the fact that he was being mocked made him want to control the world so that nobody can treat him that way. The guy is nuts and what matters here is that he's the guy who's come closer to declaring himself the Grand Poobah of Earth as we know it and now he has a whole big army of robots, lots of Amazons, lots of weapons, and he's already said that he's not just rattling his saber."

"It _does _make a difference, Ollie," Lois fired back, her eyelids scrunched and her lavender eyes glimmering to accent the weight of her conviction. "Now I can safely say that nobody has looked more into the life of Lex Luthor than I have and I've watched him go through a whole bunch of transformations. He's been a mad scientist, a leader of an army of supervillains, a guy who tried to serve as benefactor to the world from beyond the grave with the aid of some overly baked cloning plan."

"Ah, yes. When Luthor showed everybody that he could grow his hair out," Ollie broke in, the vigilante visualizing the image of shoulder-length red hair and exaggerated musculature and shuddering. "Thank God I was dead for most of that."

"He built Lexcorp into a multibillion dollar conglomerate and used those funds and the connections he made to ascend to the presidency. Once he got there he earned a base of loyal supporters by catering to their needs, paying off America's debt at the cost of collapsing European and South American intercontinental markets," Lois soldiered on, the journalist not about to be startled by her comrade's juvenile asides. "Of course, his addiction to proving how much better he is than everyone else got in the way of common sense once again and the last time we saw him in the public eye he was juiced to the gills with liquid kryptonite ranting about how he was going to destroy the world if everyone didn't just do what they were told and allow him to save it."

"And so he went underground," Ollie added, the former mayor of Star City finally throwing in his logic. "And he stayed there. . . not to mention that whole issue with that ginger weirdo masquerading as him probably didn't do him any favors."

Lois let out another snort as she moved to rifle through another pile of computer printings. "To borrow a bit from your own words, an Alexander Luthor from another reality isn't the issue here. What we're dealing with is somebody that's been here, stayed here, and changed his image more times than a rainforest's worth of chameleons. Lex rammed his way into history by responding to what he believed to be the needs of the world so why would he try to play the usurper in a house that is getting healthier all the time?"

"Because he's an egotistical murderer?" Ollie gamely asked back, the goateed sharpshooter crossing his brawny arms across his chest while Lois shot him a skeptical glance. "Hey, and I'm sorry for just keeping on coming back to that one but that's usually a good prerequisite for just goin' all fruit loops."

"This isn't psychosis, this is complacency," Lois insisted, the Pulitzer Prize winning reporter apparently having found what she was looking for judging from how she was vigilantly pulling free a small smattering of papers from a larger pile. "Two weeks ago Lex goes to Bruce Wayne and offers him to join forces and help him wipe out over half of the world's population so that it'll be easier to take care of those left behind. . ."

"Woahwoahwoah," Ollie couldn't help but break in. "First, where did you find this out and, second, why would Lex suddenly buy in with the Ra's Al-Ghul route? I mean, this is a guy who gets off on showing how much better he is to as many people as possible."

Lois provided a hint of a smile as she casually handed over the small pile of papers she had fetched from the masses of information around her. "Here's the transcript of Bruce and Lex's conversation that the former gave to me in the hopes that I could make more sense of it. Read it when you want to but the fact remains that something bigger must have happened to prompt Luthor to change his philosophies so drastically. Change is one thing but this goes entirely against Lex's principles and that means something must have happened to help change them."

"So you, and apparently Bruce," Ollie hypothesized while detachedly skimming through the collage of words that was handed to him, "think that there's something more to this than the usual M.O. By the way, I do reserve the right to shake my head in dismay at the fact that the both of us are actually considering stuff like this to be 'the usual'."

"Point taken," Lois replied. Her once fast and fluid motions suddenly came to a stop and that somehow managed to elicit more concern from her company than at any more furtive moment of their discussion. "So what if I told you that I think that Lex has managed to get one step ahead of the rest of us?"

"I'd ask you to tell me what you meant by that." Ollie slowly placed Lois's offering on one of the few empty spots the surrounding desks and keyboards were able to offer him. He watched as the spitfire hesitated once again, a sign that Green Arrow would usually construe to mean that Satan himself was lacing up his ice skates for a frigid tour through Hell.

"Well, for all we like to talk about how chaotic our lives are, I'm starting to think that maybe all we've managed to get was a different kind of structure. The bad guys threaten something important to us: our lives, our livelihoods, the planet or whatever, and the good guys put the pieces of the puzzle together and go out to try and stop it. The good guys win and the bad guys either manage to just slip away or go to jail and get their consecutive life sentences but, just before the ink is dry it seems, the bad guys manage to escape and the whole thing starts over again. Even when somebody dies, even in some cases when there's an actual body to be put into the ground, some of the good guys and some of the bad guys still manage to come back and be part of the same old game."

Ollie's face screwed up, his anger finally stoked. "So now you're just calling this all a game, Lois? Look, I know you're always on the hunt for a good story but this is about life and death. Those aren't things that people just jump into with both feet."

"Says the man whose body was blown into bits by a massive explosion until his best friend, another guy who sacrificed his life and yet mysteriously returned from the grave, managed to reconstitute him and make him animate until his soul could be coaxed out of what it believed to be Heaven."

At that point, Oliver Queen just decided to shut up for a second.

"Now the game is changing. More and more of the people who go around with capes and tights and colorful outfits and the power to rip this world apart, good and bad, are ending up dead and staying that way. Global governments are working hand-in-hand with teams of metahumans to a degree of quantity and kindness that we've never even come close to seeing, even during Luthor's presidential administration, but Lex still wants to upset that apple cart and there has to be a reason to the why."

Lois's lavender eyes had stormed over, so much so that Green Arrow felt compelled to place a hand on his old friend's shoulder. The brusque shake-off he received in return for his gesture of sympathy did manage to bring a little bit of solid ground to his thoughts though.

"I just don't like the idea that there are strings on my back," Lois replied, her eyes never leaving her research.

* * *

Feeling just a titch confused despite The Calculator's update about Corben's whereabouts, Kara briefly fought against her inclination to cut loose on the remaining automatons that had accompanied their exemplar. Deciding that she wasn't willing to put someone to the task of having to explain the appearance of yet another giant hole in Hong Kong's tallest building, the half-Kryptonian slid around a stern left uppercut and wrapped her arms around the android's substantial waist. Employing her superior strength to take her 750-pound opponent down with her, Kara fell to one knee with the other knee supporting her prey by the base of its spinal cord. Placing one hand around the Metallo's neck and the other on the opponent's left thigh, she pushed down with both hands until the strain was enough to snap the robot in two, a shower of sparks and panicked screams still assaulting her arms and ears as she rose back to her feet.

"That was of the Sambo style, yes?" inquired the behemoth of a man that was wrestling with a Metallo to her left, his thick accent yet clear enunciation making him sound as if he was endeavoring mightily to prove that he hadn't learned to speak English through a book. Kara turned to face her questioner and paid close attention to how Bane was managing to avoid the comparatively clumsy attacks of his far stronger opponent. The powerfully built combatant kept the fight in close, just as Bruce or Nigel would have done, and continued to prohibit the Metallo from bringing its long-range weapons into play. "How odd it is to see one of you so-called superheroes employing skill to go along with your strength."

Having grown well-accustomed to the familiar dig, Kara wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with breaking up the nearby scuffle with a simple kick to the Metallo's right Achilles heel. She had little way of knowing if the lump of metal substituting for flesh and muscle remained a weak spot but it was the force of the shot that counted and the former Supergirl was moving even as Bane slid to one side to avoid the automaton's awkward forward stumbling.

"I'm not trying to be fancy here," Kara replied while wrapping her slender right arm around the Metallo's neck. Cracking the carapace of her adversary with a knee to the back, she then forced her left fist through the fracture again and again until she could feel the burn of the radiation on her fingers. Zeroing in on the source of her pain, she took a firm grasp of the kryptonite crystal embedded within the Metallo's chest and pulled it free from its stern bindings even as the familiar nausea and disorientation attempted to take hold. "I'm just trying to avoid property damage," she explained before allowing her fallen opponent to plummet to the floor.

"Actually I would guesstimate that the destruction would be rather beneficial for all sides," reported another presence, this one far more polished and whimsical than Bane's simple candor or Kara's terse delivery. "The late Mister Tenryu had apparently established a corporate mandate claiming that any reconstruction efforts to his property would be outsourced to businesses based in Hong Kong. Given the decreased price of labor and the sequential return of investments for the client, Tenryu Enterprises may very well earn a profit from this along with those who will be responsible for the repairs."

"Well, isn't that joyful news," Kara grumbled back to Ragdoll while zeroing in on the Metallo that was attempting to draw a bead on the currently unencumbered Bane. Swerving in front of the massive fighter to deflect any bullets or lasers that would have been fired in the meantime, the half-Praxian put her endorphins to the test, clenched the kryptonite crystal in her left hand, and faked a punch that prompted the android to throw up her left arm in defense. Putting her superior speed to the task, she quickly spun her lean but powerful frame and connected with a thrust kick that slipped just under her adversary's defenses. Zooming around to catch the hurtling amalgamation of human and machinery before it could crash through the wall to the west, she brought her captured foe down hard with a belly-to-back suplex that sent the Metallo's neck slamming harshly into and through a nearby office table.

"Batman had a hand in your teachings. His talent for anticipating my counter strikes was always one of the better parts of our battles."

At that point Kara had gone well past confused and was on her way to thinking that this was all just a bizarre fever dream. "I don't need a judge right now," she insists even as Bane continued to examine her from the gap in the wall that Corben had made with him just a minute or so before. "And why aren't you helping your partner?"

"He tends to survive these kinds of things," Bane said simply, his arms crossed across his chest in a carefree manner even as he continued to see if the lone remaining Metallo was close enough to attack. "If he does not then his past has allowed him to earn what he gets."

"Well, I certainly can understand how one would cogitate that to be true," The Secret Six's resident dandy man replied while still clambered onto a Metallo's back, the _katar _strapped to his scraggly wrists already frayed and scuffed by his attempts to sink the metal blades into his far sterner opponent. "As I've grown more comfortable to being a child of the theater, I've found that the greatest directors are often those who allow themselves to live the tragedies that they bring to the stage," Ragdoll theorized while continuing to contort his body at implausible angles to avoid the Metallo's hands. "Per your request, perhaps I will continue to place myself in perilous situations in order to experiEAAACH!"

The startled squawk came about as the Metallo finally managed to ensnare the contortionist in its mighty grip. Pulling Ragdoll about so that they would be face to face, the rugged looking woman that the carapace had been built around looked furious and ready to spill blood even as a large chunk of cinderblock slammed into the android's right arm. Bane's response only distracted the powerful foe for a fraction of a second but was still more than enough time to allow Kara to scamper to the scene of the attempted murder. The former Supergirl took a firm grasp of the arm carrying Ragdoll, hyper extending and ripping apart the joints and connectors until she was able to tear the heavy limb free from its titanium socket. Employing her newfound prize as a weapon only a moment after Ragdoll leaped clear, the half-Kryptonian turned and swung the limb like a baseball bat with such force that the Metallo's upside-down legs were briefly smashing their way through the cubicles on the 18th floor before finally settling back on the level of the battlefield.

"Oh, my. Well, thank you very much, Lloyd's lover." Merkel said in thanks, his wording prompting Kara to screw up her face in the wake of the dubious distinction. "And to you as well, of course. Would it be safe to assume that your generosity was thanks in part to the fatherly affections you've shown for Miss Scandal or have you come to procure some unexpected affection for me?"

After taking a moment to make certain their final fallen opponent wasn't about to get up, Kara turned to the escalating scene before her and realized that she hardly needed her x-ray vision to make out the sight of Bane frowning sternly beneath his mask.

"At ease, luchadore aficionado," Ragdoll continued on while somehow acquiring an ornate Spanish accent, his palms presented to Bane in a manner that was meant to appease but was most likely taken as a means of infuriation. "I merely find myself devoted to discover where I stand amongst the players. After all, your current psychoses would mark a wonderful creative foundation for my next screenplay."

* * *

Bruce didn't need to look at the skin or the muscle or the bone to see the precise point where his mother was bleeding. There had been moments of his life, scant instants of desperation, when he consigned himself to examining his mother and father's autopsy reports. Those dozens of occasions equipped him with the knowledge that enabled him to play out the described sequence of events to come with better clarity than the coroner of the case ever could. A hole had been ripped through Martha Wayne's chest, an aperture nearly a quarter of an inch in diameter but made at such velocity that the offending object had cut through the underside of her breastbone and torn into one of the major ventricles of the right side of her heart. Her circulation system, now drawn to supplying blood to portions that were unable to fulfill their assigned tasks, would speed up her demise by prompting blood to flow into her lungs and trachea. She would suffocate, drowning in her own internal fluids in a matter of some painful seconds, her cerebral cortex responding to so much endorphin-related feedback that she would very well have had suffered a stroke if her cognitive functioning had lasted just a few minutes more.

But Martha Wayne did not fall to the ground as she had in Crime Alley over forty years ago. Instead the blood continued to soak her dress in a violent collusion of mockery.

"Why must you think so little of yourself, son?" asked Martha, her voice a painful warble as she held her right hand to her hemorrhaging heart. "What? Do you not believe that you're worthy of the reward I offer you?"

"I won't take it because the reward wouldn't be genuine," Bruce simply replied, his brain already working to override his heart just as it had many times before. "Even if this wasn't a lie and even if I could just sweep away every mystery there was to be had here I know I wouldn't take it because I haven't earned it. There's still too much blood still on my hands."

"Do you really think that you haven't made your mother and father proud, Bruce?" Martha's tone reeked of pain as she strode forward, the flowing blood slowing to a crawl as her left hand inched towards her son's chin. "You've fought so hard for so long. More than anybody else could ask of anyone. . ."

Bruce was slow and gentle with his movements as he intercepted his mother's hand before she could caress his face, the dutiful son tenderly taking Martha's hand in his own. "It's true that I've long grown weary of fighting this war," he said softly, the weight of the honesty hampering his voice and mannerisms. "Maybe. . . maybe I've gotten so I tired that I do seek death. Perhaps I would have been quicker to dive out of the way of Sabbac's hellfire if I hadn't been thinking how easy it would have been to allow the flames to simply take me."

"There are other ways to die, son," Martha pointed out, the deceptively old woman jerking her hand away. "There were other ways to find peace."

"Except Stephanie was determined to give up her life to make certain that I kept fighting," Bruce replied, his tone an odd mixture between Batman's grim determination and the stubbornness of that crying child in Crime Alley. "J'onn knew that infiltrating The White Martians would bring about his death and yet he did it because he trusted that those he cared for would take care of the burdens he would leave behind. Cecilia and Jason followed me into hell, metaphorically and literally, even after all the times I insisted that they could have turned away. _That _is what I must live with and that is why I'll keep fighting."

Martha responded to the buoyant frankness with a tender grimace. Looking at the curvature of her lips and the softness along her jaw line, Bruce suddenly understood how he could pretend that it was his mother that was looking back at him. It was so easy to see a sweet truth in the face of a bitter lie.

"Seeking death isn't the same thing as remaining within a war that will never end. Instead of working so hard to find someone worth living for, maybe you would be better off finding somebody worth living with."

Bruce felt the heat against his back and instinctually turned to face it. Glimpsing briefly at the open door, his attentions soon turned to a towering presence that he only knew by reputation. He was informed of the cloak of living flame and the ember-like eyes that seemed to pluck at the strings of his soul but it was quite another to witness it and still feel as if he could live to tell the tale. The detective was briefly reminded of his first meeting with Metron or the wizard Shazam or indeed any other numinous being that forced him to reflect upon the reality that there was still so much he would never understand but his psychological exhaustion prevented him from feeling properly humbled.

"Of course, that is merely my own opinion at play," Rubicante allowed, the oracle briefly stepping to his left to allow Cassandra Sandsmark to pass by. "However I have been told that my estimations usually do find their way to reality."

"Yeah, and I estimate that I am all _kinds _of awesome," replied a decidedly less dignified source of information. Turning back around, Bruce was decidedly startled to see a fair-haired young woman with a wicked gleam in her cobalt-colored eyes. She was smiling broadly and that not only revealed that she clearly had no qualms with playing such a cruel joke but also presented her oversized front teeth that jutted proudly from her pale lips. "Wow. To think after all that time I put trying and failing to seducing Richie Grayson I end up getting his old man hot and bothered in a fraction of the time. I guess I really do have a knack for seducing old war horses."

As potentially shameful as the comment could have been, it didn't appear that Rubicante's apparent assistant was willing to be cowed by the ferocious scowl that Bruce Wayne shot her way. Instead she casually dipped her right hand towards the crotch of The Dark Knight of Gotham City and laughed gaily as her victim backpedaled.

"The Demon King was quite gracious in offering Miss Markov to assist in your trial, Mister Wayne," Rubicante said smoothly as Bruce was torn between figuring out who he hated more while Cassandra struggled between looking sheepish and fighting to keep in her nervous laughter at the sight of the success of Terra's seduction (and how Miss Markov was apparently so eager to point it out). "And, in the young lady's defense, it was I who crafted the words that would test your resolve." Then, after pretending to take a close examination of the ridiculously palpable animosity added, "Of course, the manner in which she chose to coordinate the trial were left to her own discretion."

"The sheer amount of blackmail material is just making my head hurt," said the living dead girl formerly known as Terra, her ring fingers pressed against her temples in a dramatic manner that only served to inspire greater ire. "Man, it's almost enough to make me want to come back from the dead and hook up with the Titans again."

"Those musings must be left for another time, Tara Markov," Rubicante cautioned his charge before either Bruce or Cassandra could formulate a reply. "As it stands, our guests have successfully endured the ordeals of The Lingering Den and will now earn their reward: the last will and testament of Cecilia King-Jones."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

As a long time video game aficionado, I must admit that I have long been an achievement whore before the dubious term was brought into the gaming lexicon. Beating the final boss in Dragon Warrior at Level 15? Easy. Defeating Legend of Zelda: Link to The Past without saving or turning off the game? Been there and done that lots. Conquering the Ruby Weapon in Final Fantasy VII with just Cait Sith? There are friends that I can still prompt into how shocked they were when they watched me do it. Downing Freya in Star Ocean 3 on the highest difficulty? Winning 15 consecutive on-line matches in Marvel vs. Capcom 2 with a team of Dan, Servbot and Spider-Man? Conquering Britney's Dance Beat on its highest difficulty? Done, done, and still living with the migraines.

That being said, it's awfully nice for an OCD fellow like myself to have the right to earn all these shiny trophies. This classic gamer broke down and bought a PS3 several months ago and I've been busy racking up achievements ever since. So if you're looking for a good singer on Rock Band or a competent Castle Crasher than feel free to find ThrivingMentok on the PSN and give me a holler. Life ain't just about comics after all!

* * *

_Issue #137 Preview_

So just what was John Corben sent to acquire from Tenryu Tower? What could be so important that Bruce and Cassandra had to travel to a hell dimension just to hear a will? Has Lois finally gone off the deep end? Will our harried author manage to complete this preview without breaking his continued streak of questions? We will find out the answers to these questions in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Bereavement Recollections? Will those who read this still be able to continue saying what they think and writing what they feel?


	137. Bereavement Recollections

Issue #137

Bereavement Recollections

_Hong Kong – Tenryu Tower – Subbasement Holding Cell – 9:54 A.M._

"No. No! NO! Nono, nononononono and no."

As he had frequently done both with Wally and his predecessor, Grodd looked upon The Fastest Man Alive with a look that provided a unique combination of annoyance and sympathy devoted for his rival's utter lack of intelligence. "Mister West, I assure you that continuous denials will do nothing to keep away the truth of this matter. Dabura has selected me to serve as the guardian of your children in any situation that may threaten their lives. . ."

"Nononono, nonono, nonono!" The Flash rhythmically droned on, his hands now clamped firmly around his ears. "Nonono! Nononono, nonono, nonononono. . ."

"Stop your futile nattering!" insisted the exile from Gorilla City, a damned soul who had once honestly thought that the arrangement fate had handed him to be quite the scrumptious prospect but was now becoming more and more eager to get his business concluded and return to his own portion of Hell. "I have been informed that the sorcery of The Demon King has assigned me with a supernatural signature that will precipitate the creation of a transdimensional bridge during any situation where Jai and Iris West are identified to be in mortal danger. This will allow me to travel from Hashmalamum in a virtual instant where I will then perform my necessary duties before returning to my eternal contrition. I assure you that I have no desire to overstay my welcome in this obligation."

"Konkey Kong!" enthused a presence that was clearly finding much more joy in the situation than the principal players. Grodd and Wally looked down, seemingly of one mind, to discover that the youngest of the West children was toddling his way towards his destined guardian. With his father too stunned by the goings on to employ his unparalleled speed to prevent anything from happening, Jai went about humming some infantile interpretation of the main theme from the video game series starring the aforementioned ape while making good on his attempt to climb up the massive primate by the haggard hairs on Grodd's ankles and haunches.

"Well, I suppose I have been given less courteous nicknames," Grodd mused, the ape plucking Jai off of his right thigh and placing him on his shoulder. "See, Wallace? This one has no fear of me. Perhaps you could draw comfort that this child's instincts and already overshadow that of his father."

"All right, let's get a little less ruffled here," interrupted Jai's mother, the patient wife of The Flash stepping in briskly to get between the two former foes. She had already escorted the children for a good fifty yards away from the holding cell before the familiar surge of kinetic energy ultimately compelled her to return to the battlefield when it seemed like the clamor had ceased. "Wally, I spoke with Lloyd about this and he did say that something like this was likely to happen."

Grodd's grin showed a hint of teeth as Wally's anger and confusion began to splinter between their potential targets. "You and. . ." The Flash sputtered out, his green eyes wide. "When did you do that and when were you going to tell me?"

"Perhaps after you managed to regain some sense of sanity about your lot in life and how you would go about looking after those you care for," Grodd couldn't help but hypothesize, the veteran military leader now starting to get back into the glory of the moment. "Say what you will of Mister Allen and his occasionally hypocritical stance on matters such as justice and punishment but at least he had the decency of recognizing the value of sacrifice."

"That's enough out of you too!" Linda growled back at the ape that towered over her, the journalist not showing an ounce of fear in the face of Grodd's looming detachment. She soon turned back to Wally and wrapped her right hand firmly around his chin. "At least now we know what this Dabura guy meant by honoring your debt to him. For now let's just decide to look into all of this at a more convenient time and better time and just thank Grodd for saving the lives of our children."

"But. . . he. . ." A part of Wally now desperately wished he could see what the camera in the corner had managed to record. If anything else, perhaps the footage could provide a glimmer of a tasteful lie in the unappetizing truth that was fluttering around him. "Thank you, Grodd."

"You're welcome, Mister West," Grodd offered back a conciliatory nod. "It would appear that my craving for nonbeing will not have the opportunity to be sated for quite a while yet," the primate then added while gently adjusting the weight on his shoulders so that Jai's posterior would slide into the pit of his ample collar bone. "However, I'm sure that my occasional visits with you, and the consternation I take from you during them, will provide at least _some_ small sample of satisfaction."

"Look, I'm just saying that now may be the time to just stand back and count to ten. I mean, the last time I saw you this mad you stabbed my boss six times in his chest."

Lian was the first of the people in the room to move as Cassandra Cain, Roy, and Scandal all made their way inside. The first member of this surprisingly fitting trio was maintaining her usual manner of cautious neutrality while the second continued to jabber on to the third while simultaneously looking as if he was preparing to duck and cover from the upcoming response.

"You are not the member of my family that I'm interested in stabbing," Scandal reported, her short, auburn hair twisting about her head as she turned swiftly to meet her descendant. "Tenryu Enterprises has now been forcibly ousted from contracts that would have sent billions into Hong Kong and are now will be sent straight into my father's coffers! We were up against nothing but Luthor's dime store Terminators and we still ended up getting played like fuckin' violins!"

"We failed in that," Cassandra Cain said bluntly, the current Batgirl providing what she doubtlessly thought to be a fitting enough answer for the curious people in front of her. To her credit, she did manage to note the confusion that lingered in the moment while the others were focused on the sight of Lian hopping into the arms of her somewhat relieved father. "We protected innocents but the metal men took patents from the labs."

"It was more than just patents, Cassandra," Scandal snapped back (although the potentially rude candor seemed to do nothing to faze her publically assigned bodyguard). "What Corben stole included artificial antibodies that could have been the first step to diminish carcinogenic-based distensions from over a dozen forms of cancer! He took supplements that could have been reproduced on a massive scale to provide essential nutrients for people suffering from anemia and starvation! It will take months to resurrect the backup data and by that time my father could either dissuade global distribution outlets from supporting the products or just have his corporate puppets merely take the credit for himself!"

"Well, that doesn't seem to mesh well with Luthor's claim that he wants to make everybody happy, healthy, and loyal to him," Arsenal proclaimed, the sharpshooter stunning Wally by remaining relatively calm and complacent while holding Lian in his arms. Wasn't he the more experienced caretaker? Didn't his friend claim that he had learned from his mistakes? His daughter was nearly killed and he was acting like everything was just the way it should have been. "And if you still have the original notes than you can just spring that whenever Daddy Dearest goes public with it."

"Not to mention that there must be some connections between Lex Luthor and this attack!" Linda threw in, her focused enthusiasm stunning The Flash even further. "This is something that we can report to the public!"

As far as Wally was concerned, the moment Scandal took to slip off the straps that held the three-pronged claw fastened to her right wrist was an allowance to try and make sense of the world. "And which 'public' are we going to tell this too, Miss West?" the Tenryu Enterprises CEO said while throwing one-half of her Lamentation Blades to the floor. "The only people who would be remotely interested in what we have to say about theft would be the Chinese federal authorities and the only thing _they _would care about is making certain that they got the public credit for the work."

Scandal looked around as if she was paying attention to her surroundings for the first time. Her eyes naturally went to the bleeding 650-pound dead orangutan and that managed to give her at least a moment's pause.

"Never mind. I don't want to know," Scandal concluded while shaking her head to and fro. "Look. The bottom line is this battle is going to be about a lot more than just my father and Lex trying to take over the world so they can look down on us from the mountaintop and laughing maniacally. This is going to be a war and it's going to be bloody and we need to hurry up and figure out just where we're going to have to be and what we're going to have to defend."

The leader of The Secret Six resolutely turned about and proceeded to stride away. Cassandra met her halfway between the starting point and the exit and handed off the weapons that her boss had just recently thrown aside. The silence lingered and persisted save for the clomping of two pairs of stylish business heels and Roy Harper suddenly found the inspiration to carry on as the men, women, children, and primates around him were left to piece together the rest.

"Holy crap! Is Grodd back from the dead?"

* * *

_Hashmalamum_

The landscape had long shifted from the illusion of Elias Academy to the murky, scarlet skies of Neron's former domain but perhaps one could still understand how Bruce and Cassandra could find better comfort in their unnatural new milieu. A far off volcano let out a bright gush of molten rock that briefly lit up the ungodly firmament as their guide continued to lead them down the unfamiliar path. Their torn, bloodstained uniforms had been replaced by the familiar garb that commonly identified them as Batman and Wonder Girl but Bruce's cowl was still drooped along the base of her neck and Cassie's fatigued gait hardly indicated an inexorable demigod.

To his credit, Rubicante remained as stately and judicious as advertised, the long strides of the immortal oracle allowing him to easily conduct the pace. "Let your weariness be soothed by the comfort of having succeeded in your journey for the truth, children of Earth. You will soon have the answers you sought."

"Yeah, well, you've already shown us that stuff might not be as nice to get as we thought it was," Wonder Girl replied, her cynicism clearly apparent. "And why couldn't we have just received our reward in The Lingering Den?"

Given his utter inability to tell a lie, the seer might have chosen to take umbrage at being asked a question but Rubicante chose to take the sympathetic step and brushed his naturally developed irritability aside.

"Perhaps one could answer their own questions by challenging themselves with a few conundrums that remain unanswered in the past. How frequently have we pursued a goal and yet the rewards we receive aren't what we expected them to be? How many times have we fought for something that we knew in our hearts to be a lie? How many times have we surrendered to difficulty and accepted something as inevitable when we knew that it was something that could be changed? I happen to believe that the truth is something that is quite rare and thus requires a great deal to earn, Cassandra Sandsmark, and for all of your success in your trials I know that a simple journey through this desolation will provide the clarity of mind that the both of you will require to receive Cecilia's reward in full."

"Well, _I_ think you've earned your reward," piped in a wholly unwanted presence, her mischievous tone screaming that she couldn't care what the others around her had to think. "C'mon, Brucie. Haven't you heard that once you go dead you won't leave your bed?"

"Why is she still here?" Batman growled back, the detective swatting Terra's flirtations aside.

"And yet another question," Rubicante replied with a sigh, the slender soothsayer shaking his pale-white head. "The Lingering Den is usually undergone by a single soul at a time. One risk for one reward, one might say. Your joint effort prompted me to consider that I would require assistance in order to provide a trial worthy of your rigors and, as I have said before, The Demon King was more than kind enough to allow Miss Markov to take up the task."

"Yeah, and I think I've earned the right to see all this through to the end!" the former Teen Titan and spy exclaimed, the geokineticist calmly traveling along with the aid of a floating stone that she had pried from the earth. "And didn't you guys read the brochures before coming down here? You're not supposed to ask the big guy any questions!"

"Then I'll ask them to you instead," Wonder Girl countered without even turning around, her blue eyes still dividing their attention between the ground and Rubicante's back. "I've read Nightwing's file on you back at Titans Tower. You were dead well before Cissie showed up on the scene so why are you so keen about seeing what's about to happen?"

"Because I put all that effort into learning my lines," Terra gamely replied, her tone noticeably brighter than Cassandra's accusatory candor. "Oh, and don't start thinking that all the conclusions you've jumped to are true, Goldilocks. You may have been her dorm buddy and maybe the girl you wanted to experiment with or whatever but I was the one that was fighting with her while you were living it up all nice and cozy in that big fuckin' T on the coast of San Francisco."

"The Teen Titans were just as occupied with Neron's attempted invasion as we were," Batman quickly interceded, the tension churning between the two teens bringing him more annoyance than worry. "Stick with telling your side of the story, Markov."

Terra let out a scoff while holding up a relenting palm. "Fine, fine. The fact is that when I was the last good guy left standing on Grodd's team after we got ripped apart by Neron's flying bearmonkeys and shit I decided to skedaddle and see if there was anybody else I could team up with. I ended up going down into the earth and eventually found my way over by where Grodd was going to meet Doctor Light with Batman. I didn't find them but I did find the arrow girl dead on the ground and, next to her, was a big ass Abyssal worm that probably could have used her for a toothpick."

Knowing that she had collected the attention of the woman she thought to be quite obnoxious, Terra waited a moment until she knew that Cassandra's impatience was on the verge of getting the better of her. "So here I am looking at this chick, this badass who took down something ridiculously more powerful and even died while doing it." The geokineticist attempted to cover up her admiration with a careless-looking shrug but the smirk had already started to emerge on Wonder Girl's cracked lips. "So. . . I guess I wanted to learn more about a person who could do something like that. I mean, 's not like I've got anything better to do down here in this literal hellhole."

There was a sudden snapping sound and the quartet was suddenly spirited away from the lifeless, undulating knolls around them. In their place stood an enormous stone plinth with stark, gray stairwells sloping down on all sides. A full-length mirror stood at the head of the scene where there usually was a cauldron of rank blackwater that Rubicante employed to weave through the impossibilities on his search for truth. The seer's fingers were still pursed, the supernatural energy resonating from his fingertips as his cape of living flame settled back down onto his back and legs.

"You may remain standing or sit where you desire," Rubicante explained as ornate chairs of black marble appeared to his left and right. "Having earned your reward through the quality of your own merit, I believe it would only be fair if you were given the right to choose how you receive it."

"Cool by me," Terra replied while sliding by Cassandra in order to take one of the two seats to the left. "Y'know, you never really appreciate the value of lumbar support until divine punishment forces you to stay on your feet." The avid, toothy grin remained on the face of the living dead girl while Cassandra sat next to her with no small supply of reservation. "So we get popcorn too, right?"

Rubicante felt no need to provide a response save for gesturing toward the mirror. Bruce was suddenly reminded of the showy glass machinations that he would sometimes find in the home of some vain Hollywood starlet that he would be "involved" with and he couldn't help but wonder why his mind had chosen to travel in such an unexpected direction. After all, what was soon revealed in the reflection was not some self-conscious stargazer or overtly proud half-wit but a young woman tired from her impressive labors but yet still torn between amusement and aggravation. A voice away from the scene was squabbling at her and that coerced a gentle, begrudging smile that hurt Bruce's heart.

"Okay. Lloyd, this is ridiculous. I feel like I'm in a bad science-fiction movie."

"That's enough of your whinging, Arrow Girl," Lloyd fired back, the British half-demon obviously still fiddling with the camera judging from how the projection was warping from moment to moment. "You don't have to tell anybody that you're their only hope or that you have to save the world by keeping a wanker from playin' on his piano. Just say what you want to say and this'll pick it up."

"You're sure?"

"Sure I'm sure," The Black Dog answered, the fingertips of his left hand briefly popping into the shot as he brushed at the digits while the image became crystal clear. There was a hint of rustling and the scrabbling of some chair legs as Lloyd moved to take a seat while Cecilia fussed over some stray strands of hair that had slipped away from the back of her ear. The silence resonated as Oliver Queen's daughter provided a hopeful smile before letting out a breath and sitting back in her chair.

"Well, here's the thing. We're about. . . two hours away from going to Hash Browns or wherever the hell Neron is hanging out and me and the Brit were sort of talking about how the both of us may not be making it back. I don't know. I mean, Lloyd's having problems with his demon and me. . . well. . ."

The hesitation seemed to gnaw at Arrowette's disposition and the sensation prompted her to let out an annoyed huff as she rolled her eyes. "I've just got this buzzing going on in the back of my head, all right? Y'know, like something's about to happen that I'm not going to be able to stop until it shows up."

"One might say her arrow senses are tingling."

"Shush," Cecilia warned her off-camera comrade, the hint of a leer betraying her tone. "Well, whatever you want to call it, we both figured that we'd take some time out and say a few things to everybody in case we don't get the chance to do it face-to-face." She let out a sigh, rocked briefly back in her chair and nodded before leaning forward. "And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't think that this was a good idea. I mean, I'll always have a little bit of love for my mother and how she just recklessly drove me to be a person that could be good at something but all that work kinda put me in a place where I didn't know how to just take control of something. Make it mine. So, as creepy as this may seem to me right now, I still think this is something that needs doing."

The fair-haired woman steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair, the gesture coaxing a ghost of a gasp from Batman that coerced Wonder Girl into briefly turning to examine the confusing gentleman. As she did, the adopted Amazon easily picked up her best friend huffing out a breath and letting her lips flap as she shook her head rapidly back and forth before starting to speak once again.

"Well, I guess the first thing is that I'm an idiot 'cause I've just started realizing that I have so many people to thank for getting me to where I am now. It's really. . . something I never thought I'd have. I mean, there's Dick and Tim and all the time they put into helping me learn and cope and it's not like they didn't already have enough to do. Plus. . . hey, they both have really cute butts so it was always fun to watch 'em walk away at the end of the day."

"Such an unapologetic tart," Lloyd broke in over Cassandra's sputtering giggle, the Brit's words going ignored by the woman in front of the camera.

"Thanks to Noah for trying waaaaay too hard to make me feel safe and informed when I had no idea about what was going on. God bless you, Greta, for making those years at Elias at least somewhat bearable. I may sometimes want to beat you about the neck and shoulders for being able to do what I couldn't and just step away from all this insanity but I'll always be proud of you for it. Thanks to Linda, Roy and Wally for trusting me enough to spend time with their beautiful children. Thanks to Kara and Lloyd for trying so hard at being everybody else's mom and dad." Cissie paused once again and looked to the side, the stalwart soldier obviously deflecting a glance from The Black Dog. "Thanks to Ollie. . . Dad. . . I love you so much for at least trying to do something with the time we had. I know you may think that you have a lot to make up for but you don't. You really don't. I am so happy with what my life has become and who I am and if you become a greater part of my life than that's just the next wonderful thing. And if I don't come back from this then I want you to know that the only thing I could possibly regret about what's happened in my life is that I didn't have more time to get to know you. Maybe then I could understand why Roy is always whining about you whenever he gets drunk but that's another matter for another therapist's couch."

"Or stolen computer chair," The Black Dog threw in once again.

"Eh, potato, potatoe," Arrowette replied, the young archer hastily clapping her hands together to signal that time would soon shift back to the pressing matter. "One thing I _may _regret is becoming friends with you, Stephanie Brown. You are obnoxious, impossible and noisy and always saying the wrong thing and without you I might have lived a life where I didn't have to worry so much about what was going to happen tomorrow. You encouraged me to be what I thought I never could because of what you want to be and all the heart you put into your life and I'll love and hate you forever for it."

A dreary smile appeared on Cecilia's lips, a sight very familiar to those who had been able to speak to Stephanie when she had been momentarily stymied for something to say. "And keep watching over Kara and Lloyd for me too, okay?"

"Hey! I can take care of myself if I come out of this alive!"

Cissie shut her eyes softly, the former Young Justice member recomposing her thoughts while leaning back in her chair once again. "Okay. Now that should cover all the people who knew what I was going to say before I was going to say it here. Now I'm going to use the rest of my time to talk to the two people who probably won't believe what I think about them unless I tell it to them straight up; the two dodoheads whose skulls are probably so thick that they're the ones who tromped all the way down through whatever hell they had to go through to get to see this."

Thus far the delivery had been tender but terse, perhaps so much so that it didn't take much to suddenly allow Cecilia's emotions to get the better of her. She looked down to her lap and pursed her lips hard, the gesture so meticulous that the sound of dragging chair legs briefly interrupted the silence and the archer held up a hand to shoot the unspoken offer down. Raising her long neck straight and tall, the slight tears were already beginning to slip from her eyes.

"You'll always be my best friend, Cassie. I. . . I know a lot of people blame their hang-ups on all the shit that happened to them in the past and maybe what my mom did to me made me feel like I didn't need to care so much about what somebody else is going through but. . . God, that's the only excuse I can give that could defend the way I treated you. You lost so much, so much more than I did and I should have been the one to help you realize that there was more to life than this fight. Hell, _you _spent years trying to convince me of that but it ended up you taking the advice and I just wrapped myself up in it and hid away from the world. I just focused on finding my own answers because it was the easier thing to do and I'm so happy with who I am but I will _always _regret not being there for you more. If anything else, I would have had more time to see just what a wonderful person you've become."

Cecilia's tears were in full force now, the dribbles of water nearly turning silver with the camera's unique lighting. The glow of the surrounding dormant magma provided its own interference as well, the warmth of the crimson rock making Cassandra's fat tears stick to her cheeks for so long that gluey pools had cropped up beneath her eyes.

"So you and Tim both stop moping over the past, okay? Keep on fighting for me and Bart and Conner and all the rest of us because I know that there's always going to be a part of all of us that wishes that we could keep on doing what the two of you get to do. I know it'll be hard but I also know that the both of you are going to find something great on the other side of all of this. If there's anything that I say that you can believe please let it be that."

Arrowette suddenly rubbed at her eyes in a frantic manner, the young vigilante seemingly determined to eliminate any traces of sadness or weakness from her countenance. "All right, Bruce. You're a rigid, hard-hearted son of a bitch who only lets his sympathies show when you can be as brutish about it as you can. You spend all that time trying to hide how you really feel about life, you put on this front like you're above everything, even the people who keep trying desperately to keep you in their lives. You manipulate the people you love into making them believe that every little hint of actual kindness and honesty you give them should be worth its weight in gold and that's no way for you to live the life that I know you want to live."

Batman didn't dare betray any emotion to his former junior partner. After all, he had done the same for Richard, Jason, Timothy and Stephanie and tradition stated that Cecilia should be treated no differently. In his stead, Cassandra and Tara provided some more appropriate responses by dropping their jaws and apparently attempting to imitate a pair of recently suffocated mackerels.

"But you were the one who coaxed me out of my own hiding spot, weren't you? I had all these regrets and worries but I wasn't strong enough to stand up and take them on until you came a knockin'. You brought me into your mission and taught me what I needed to learn in order to excel and I may have had to make a lot of sacrifices to make that happen but I don't regret that part of who I am now and I never will. And. . . and the reason I kept at it wasn't because I thought Gotham needed protecting or some belief that I needed to protect people from crime or anything like that. It was because I felt that a good man needed me to keep going; that same rigid, hard-hearted son of a bitch that took the time to care for me when he had every reason to look for somebody else who was more suitable for the task."

There was a pure smile on Cecilia's lips, an almost impossibly perceptive air around her making the girl in front of the camera look like something not of the world that Bruce was living in even before it turned out to be true. "You're the most wonderful man I've ever known, Bruce Wayne. You saw something in me that was buried under all the garbage that my mother and I shoveled onto my soul and you dragged me into becoming something I'm so proud to be and that's something that I'll never be able to repay."

Arrowette looked as if she was finally finished but, as she leaned back in her chair, she seemed to be struck by something forgotten. Tapping two fingers against her left temple, the cocky part of her smirk resurfaced once again. "Ah, and ya see? Turns out that all the time you took trying to make me into a detective was actually a little bit useful because I have to tell you something that I found out about. Something to do with that last little mystery that you know you have to solve before you can start convincing yourself that maybe you don't have to keep up this fight forever."

Batman leaned forward in spite of himself. His former partner, as if in response, leaned back in her chair and held the gathered attention with an unwavering stare.

"There is something more to what we're doing, Bruce. This game. . . this whole hero and villain shtick that we've been running on for so long? There's something more to it than what it seems like on paper. I _feel _it. I _know _it and the one thing that I realize now is that you're the only one who can find out just what the hell is behind that curtain. You're the only one that will because all the cards that have to be revealed is only going to be shown to somebody that everybody knows or respects or loves or fears. That's not something that anything else can pull off. Not Lloyd. Not Kara. Not even Superman. You."

Cecilia steepled her fingers once again, the twinkle in her eyes dictating that while the movement may have been instinctual the first time it certainly wasn't here. That unspoken truth was just as clear as the tears slowly tumbling down Batman's face.

"Here's hoping that you can figure out how I knew this before you did, boss."

* * *

The low light of the moon was the only illumination found in the day room of Wayne Manor, the last rays of the setting sun having vanished through a dense layer of silver clouds. Somehow brought back to the relative safety of the mansion, Bruce and Cassandra couldn't devote as much energy as they would have liked to the question of how they had come here or why Rubicante had taken the time to inform them that his debt to The Black Dog had been paid in full.

Their thoughts, as one might understand, were momentarily elsewhere.

* * *

_Metropolis - Abandoned Warehouse (Formerly Lexcorp Distributions Facility 492C) – 5:57 P.M. Central Standard Time_

Superman had come to expect the best from the officials of S.T.A.R. Labs and the cleanup operation going on around him provided further proof that his expectations were right on the money. Having had years of experience in dealing with the sensitive retrieval and reconstruction efforts that often coincided with one of his battles, the white-suited ladies and gentlemen were equipped with both the knowledge and the acquired skills to take care of their tasks with impressive efficiency. Parasite had been safely locked away in a specifically crafted glass casket that would prevent him from acquiring enough power to break away from his makeshift prison, the functioning scraps of Toyman's armor were already taken away to be examined while the shattered shards and broken metal was still being swiftly cleared away. The shock jock turned supervillain known as Livewire was already constrained within an electrical housing unit that ran at a scrambling frequency that made it nigh unto impossible for the being of pure energy to dissipate and make an escape.

"Anything else you need out of me, Colonel Jacobsen?" Superman couldn't help but ask the broad-shouldered gentlemen overseeing the cleanup. As the hero had come to expect, the lifelong soldier briskly turned away from his occupation and regarded his new task with only just a trace of irritation.

"No need, Superman. You've got my thanks for helping to get the containment ready for Parasite. Still, you might want to see what Professor Lugae may want from you before you go and meet the press."

The Man of Steel waited for the army veteran to turn about before raising his eyebrows. He had remembered his cousin's brief retelling of the history of Immanuel Lugae and he had been one of the millions of people who had pored over Lois Lane's Pulitzer Prize winning investigation of the infamous "Monster Farm" that had been funded by numerous national governments to construct living, breathing weapons designed to counter the vast strengths of the superhuman community, himself in particular. The facts and details his better half had been able to bring into light was intriguing enough and the brutality mentioned in Kara's secondhand accounts all but forced him to get a closer look at the man who conducted those hideous matters. He walked slowly, purposefully, towards the aged scientist, his eyes roving over every crease and wrinkle in the man's tarnished face.

"Is this really all necessary?"

"Lugae" looked up from his imaginary duties and winked. "No, but it's quite fun," he replied, the Andalusian burr of the late geneticist demonstrably absent in favor of a more familiar West London brogue. "Looks like Luthor managed to store some more kryptonite under everyone's noses. The storage containers consisted mostly of a vastly concentrated steel alloy that is mostly found and produced on Karbarra. Of course, the material was apparently melted down before reaching its final form so that some traces of lead could be mixed into the solution. . ."

"And prevent me from being any wiser to its presence," Superman concluded, the Kryptonian once again forced to respect Luthor's intelligence. "Not to mention that there were so many Lexcorp facilities here in the city that it probably cost him a pittance to bribe a city inspection crew to overlook the places that he really wanted to keep hidden."

"Well, that seems to be business as usual, near as I can tell," The Black Dog presumed, the telepath still easily maintaining the unique visual glamour that allowed him to blend in with the crowd. "Still, it doesn't speak well when a group that's had over three years to get a job done right is discovered to have barely do the job at all."

Superman honestly wished that the little dig hadn't perturbed him as much as it did. "We've all made mistakes, 'Doctor Lugae'. We also can't all hide behind the shadows of a billionaire and a trillion dollar government that just seems more than happy to take what you've done and sweep it under the rug."

"Oh, and please tell me which part of you is saying that?" Lloyd asked, his head cocked to one side. "Is this the enterprising journalist with the bullet proof skin? The alien born from an advanced society who was handed things that most of us precious humans couldn't even dream about? Or is this the orphan that somehow managed to land on the farm of two kindly strangers who was able to give him the time, love, and energy to teach that child what he needed to be taught?" Superman was on the verge of offering a reply but the young telepath swept away the offering with a quick wave of his hand. "Now I respect that you've managed to accept that what Kara and I do is something that needs doing but I'm not going to start apologizing for it. You are free to be appalled, offended or whatever you want to be just so long as you do what you have to do and we'll do the same."

"Where is this all coming from?" Superman's tone was an odd compound of annoyance, confusion, and ever-enduring civility. "I thought that we had come to an understanding. I wanted to give you and Kara my blessing, not get into an argument about whatever it is you think we're talking about."

"No, you wanted to see if there was a chance that you could get Kara out of the life she's living," Lloyd countered, the weariness in his features and the stark silence from his adversary confirming the theory. "C'mon, lad. I don't need to read minds to figure out what's on yours. An' don't think that I haven't taken more than a moment to figure out what might happen if the worst of what we do does come to worse."

With a sound portion of the neutrality that the two had shared restored, Lloyd felt safe enough to let out a weary sigh and a shake of his head. "Mate, I wish I can tell you that your cousin and I are going to have what you have someday but I just don't see it in the cards. And, if you worked up the stones to ask her once more, I bloody guarantee that she'd say the same thing."

The flicker of hurt that resonated on Clark's face was too genuine for Lloyd to simply brush off and ignore. What's more was the very likely possibility that some of Superman's sympathy was reserved for him and that just made the whole present matter feel like even more of a pain. Still, The Black Dog continued to look on as Superman regained the thin slivers of composure that had been lost, the half-demon easily recognizing how Bruce Wayne could respect this figure more than he would ever let on.

"Leave us alone, yeah? Go out and meet the adoring public."

Superman barely hesitated before doing just that, the longtime hero suddenly remembering what he was reminded of when he first laid eyes on his cousin's lover.

* * *

_Hong Kong – Ground floor of Tenryu Tower – 11:02 A.M._

Scandal Savage looked as if she were the conductor of a rampant orchestra, the executive officer remaining calm and focused in the face of an insistently raucous noisy storm. "We have definite reason to believe that the international crime syndicate known as Intergang is responsible for this recent act of violence. This was not an act of terrorism but of economic sabotage and a desire to potentially incapacitate the health and safety of everyone within our influence."

"So you do not deny that Tenryu Enterprises was experimenting in the fields of cryogenesis and stem cell research?" asked a bespectacled young reporter, his inquiry spoken in clear-cut Mandarin but still quickly translated by those who required it. Scandal, who hardly needed the assistance, continued to stand as composed and tall as her frame would allow and broadcast her authority to those around her.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the media, Mao Tenryu treasured any opportunity to expand the scope of human understanding and that tradition will continue to be upheld here long after his passing. We shall make no apologies for operating within the material provided to us nor shall we be shy about expressing our success. That said we have reason to believe that this assault was orchestrated by private military units with formal ties to powerful representatives within China's highest levels of government in an attempt to gain access to the revolutionary advances we have made in the fields of disease research and recovery."

"Those are some powerful accusations, Miss Savage," noted a more authoritative sounding journalist when the initial uproar had begun to quiet down. "I am certain that you are well aware that Tenryu Enterprises, like all public commercial enterprises in Hong Kong, hold strict financial ties to the Chinese government."

"Which is why I made certain to hold ample proof of my theory before broadcasting it on a public forum, Mister Jianyu," Scandal shrewdly countered, the commanding candor she employed to respond to the veteran investigator helping to summon another upheaval of noise which she soon lessened with a gentle wave of her right hand. "This is not the time or place to go into greater detail but rest assured that Tenryu Enterprises will hold no doors closed to the public in regards to either the events of today or the responsibility parties behind this attack."

_And thus the gauntlet is thrown, _Wallythought while taking in the scene from afar, the speedster's eyes mostly shielded from view by the black-and-blue Tenryu Enterprises ball cap over his head. Figuring some respect was owed, he briefly examined Cassandra Cain as she stood just behind her boss. Her beetle-black eyes were still, unwavering, and it doubtlessly meant that the former child soldier wasn't letting a single detail go unnoticed as she scanned the surroundings for any potential signs for danger with an eloquence matched by that of Scandal's performance. It made him briefly think back to those moments in Central City or Washington when he was at the center of attention, those potentially stressful ordeals when he would be called upon to employ his good humor and what he hoped to be a decent helping of charm to fend off the questions of reporters looking to know a bit more about the nearby crime scene.

"But does he miss it, one may ask? Does The Justice League's former butt monkey and resident jokester now resent the fact that he lives a life that demands him to avoid the spotlight?"

Wally sighed as the dramatic monologue delivery man chose to sit down next to him, his friend's longer legs allowing him to stretch his feet so that they would lay one step lower down the pinnacle of the eastern stairwell. "I hope you're not forgetting all the moments when you decided to just act a fool with a camera in sight," The Flash sagely advised. "Stealing a beret from a roadside stand and talking like Jerry Lewis while we were being publically thanked by Jacques Chirac? The time when we were in Scotland and you mooned the arrested IRA members after we had busted up a H.I.V.E. ring they were working with. . ."

"Hey! Those were both acts of secondhand patriotism! Just because you're all hung up on suppression doesn't mean that you can just censor me."

"Having us getting chased out of a county fair that The Joker was trying to slaughter because you said you wanted to hook up with somebody's sister-daughter."

"Language! Language!" Roy Harper mockingly cautioned, the young father quick to lower his daughter's cap so that the brim would cover her ears. Apparently the mischievous father-daughter combo had also tired of perusing the duty-free shop and had chosen to watch the goings on as well. "I will have you know that I do not regret the parts of my past that I actually remember! I am a proud, usually sober member of the superhero community and there's nothing that you can do to slow me down!"

Wally raised his eyebrows at that. "And ain't nothin' gonna breaka your stride?"

"Nobody's gonna slow me down!" Lian piped in, the young adolescent having successfully pried the Tenryu Enterprises hat off her head despite her father's physical insistences. "Oh no! I gotta keep. . ." she managed to add before her father pressed his lips against her cheek and produced a sound like a musk ox breaking wind that caused her to dissolve into laughter. The entire scene, as charmingly nauseating as it was, prompted Wally to examine the moment and weigh over his options. Then, wondering just who would be the first to remind him of his stupidity for not thinking of this idea before, he clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms.

"All right, I'm finally going to get around to asking this question to the first person I should have asked this to in the first place," The Flash began as both his words and the physical prelude gained him the attention of those seated next to him. Briefly looking upon the pair, he couldn't help but notice that Roy's head was bopping back and forth and Wally was briefly reminded of a goody-too-shoes student who thought that they were about to be called upon to answer a question that they thought that only they knew. The whole thing was so positively tasteless that The Fastest Man Alive tested his own patience by allowing the whole thing to go on before moving on.

"So what do you think a dad should do in a situation like this, Lian?"

Lian pursed her lips while cocking her head to one side, a fine contrast to the initial open gaping of the mouth and eventual hangdog expression of her father. "Whaddaya mean, Uncle Wally?" the young lady asked while openly ignoring her father's silent whimpering.

"Well, I used to be this big shot who was used to doing things his own way," Wally replied with open palms, the young father wisely allowing the deceptively sharp youngster to read between the lines herself. "And whenever I screwed up I could either hide behind a very responsible uncle or I could just deal with it at my own time because, hey, they were just my problems."

"And you're pretty good at solving problems, Uncle Wally."

"Well, thank you, Niece Lian." Wally briefly drummed his fists against his knees in a quick beat as he started to get more into the metaphorical melody. "So the first time I really started to feel bad about the way I lived my life was when Linda got involved and now it's only gotten worse now that I've got two kids who shouldn't have to worry about their safety just because of what I do for a living."

Given her occasional moments of wisdom and good sense, Lian honestly thought over what to say before she said it. "And you're worried about what might happen to them?"

"Well, of course I am!" Wally snapped, the gentleman almost immediately regretting his tone. "It's just. . . you've lived this life for years now and how do _you _feel about it? I mean, would you want a dad who just works a regular job and comes home every night so he can spend time with his kids like a good father should or do you want. . . somebody like me?"

The whole affair had suddenly dropped from its cloud of levity like a lead balloon with an impact that even Roy couldn't avoid. Of course, one benefit of being 11 years old was the tendency to have an innate desire to express one's thoughts and opinions regardless of the awkwardness of the goings on.

"Well, I _would _like to see my dad a lot more. Still. . . I mean, I go to a really cool school. I've got a whole bunch of weird people who want to see me and see how I'm doing. And sometimes that's stupid too because that means I've gotta always make sure I do my homework and Alfred's always giving me chores. . ."

"Lian, I'm not talking about that," Wally broke in, the red-haired fellow wise to cut this train off before it could fully leave the station. "What I mean is. . . all those times that you've had to run into some kind of safe room and worry about whether or not you're going to see the people you love again. All the times your life has been put in danger. The whole thing with The Tanner Syndicate. . ."

"Geez, Wally!" Roy barked, the anger quickly emerging on the sharpshooter's face. "Hey, just because you're all torn up about what you think you have to do doesn't mean you have to. . ."

"Shut up, dad!" Lian shouted back, the impertinence within the reply sounding startlingly familiar to both Roy and Wally's ears. "I don't _want _to be treated like I'm some piece of glass! I wanna be a person and I want people to listen to me like I'm one. You want me to stop being a kid and run to safety when something bad happens but then you start treating me like a kid when everything's safe and that's not fair! Treat me like who you want me to be and I'll try to be that! Just don't get mad at me when you tell me to be one thing and expect me to start being something else when something bad happens!"

Figuring that he didn't have the honor, Wally waited patiently as Roy bent to his right and kissed Lian on the top of her head. Lian, as expected, kept a firm hold of her youthful independence and rolled her eyes as the two adults shared a knowing look over her head. The sound of stumbling footsteps broke up the scene and Wally slid his knees up to his chest. Lifting up the lower half of his body, his head was just above that of his son's as Jai rushed forward to give him a "wobble hug", as Linda had come to call it, and Wally had half-expected to stumble over just to keep his youngest child from falling on his own face.

"Boom boom bababoom!" Jai reported, his next few words little more than a mishmash of hastily formed vowels and consonants that were impossible to decode. The noises continued to persist as Wally stood straight up, the young father effortlessly carrying Jai up with him as his son's stubby hands wrapped awkwardly around his neck.

"Yeah, there's no possible way to stop him right now!" Linda matter-of-factly replied to the unspoken question. "He's been running about 120 miles an hour ever since I let him out of my grasp. I haven't seen him move like that since Lloyd and Stephanie accidentally busted through The Batcave when they were training."

Once again, a series of silent questions and answers leapt back and forth among those who were capable of recognizing them. Linda and Wally began their exchange with an array of glances that ranged in a wide variety of franticness. Roy tried his best to be a true and loyal friend, perusing the cognitive menagerie and wondering over the whens and whys of what he would have to say before his own nature began to get the better of him and he started wondering about the quality of booze in Scandal Savage's personal wine cellar. Even Lian wondered what she could do to maintain the safety and security in the household that she loved to be in before she gave in as well and started to wonder about how she could take advantage of it.

"We are going to scar our children, Linda. I mean. . . this is. . . we're venturing into 'therapist's wet dream' territory here."

Wally's blunt reply was met with utter calm from the two most significant ladies in his life. If anything else, Iris's complacency in the face of her brother's zeal made the whole thing seem that much more bizarre.

"Yeah, but they're our scars, darlin'," Linda replied, the lingering hints of her Korean brogue making the colloquialism that much more deliciously ridiculous to hear. "At least this way we can try and control how they sow back up again."

"I could have told you that," Roy delivered in a sing-song stage whisper. It was a positively infuriating thing to hear, as far as Wally was concerned, but it did make the sight of Lian smacking the back of her father's head a bit more appetizing.

"I'm takin' the kids down to the gift shop!" announced Lian, the adolescent sweeping the toddlers away from the lingering grips of their parents. Removed of the last of her willing weights, Linda joined her husband in slumping down against the top of the stairwell.

"Please tell me that these little epiphanies are always going to make life a little bit simpler," Linda pled, the young mother too worn to take the time and energy into revealing just who the question was directed at.

"Oh, this is one of the _good _moments. Just wait until you have to convince them to do their homework and they're all like, 'You can't tell me to do stuff just 'cause you're around now.' Then there's all the complaints from teachers and police officers that say you're spoiling them."

"Police officers?" asked Wally before good sense prompted him to hold his tongue. "Well, on the bright side, we don't have to deal with Iris crushing on boys anytime soon."

"Or Jai realizing just how uncool his mommy and daddy really are. . ."

"Oh, ha ha," Roy grumbled back in the wake of the young couple's laughter. Then, since it was the only thing he could think of, he joined in the chuckles of the somewhat damned.

* * *

"Well, that was perhaps one of the least mature ways that you could have chosen to handle that situation."

"Hey, I thought I did all right!" Lloyd exclaimed while turning to stare back at his determined accuser. "An' I never said I was the picture of prudence."

"No, but I'm starting to think that you're trying to present yourself as exactly that," Lois Lane countered with a knowing smirk. "That's why I met you here outside of this courthouse even though you were on time and I was a half-hour late. Oh, and it's exactly why Bruce would always show up at a place early just so he could pick the best opportunity to be the last one to arrive and don't even start telling me that you're not emulating him at least a little bit."

The Black Dog, slaughterer of thousands and scion of a demon who had lain waste to countless more, tried his best to work up the power to take on this force of nature. "Why. . . why does Clark put up with you?"

"Why does Kara put up with you?" Lois primly asked back, the knowing reporter not possessing a lick of the outrage that Lloyd was hoping for. "No. Wait. Hold on. I wanna guess. Because you know what a wonderful person she is and how much she puts on her shoulders every time she steps out of the door. And you look at her and realize all the dumb moves you've made and all the mistakes that you still think you need to pay for and start thinking that there's just _no way _that you deserve somebody that special in your life. But, since you already have it, you just decide to do a whole bunch of ridiculously inane things that you would have never done on your own just to keep on showing that you're worthy of her affection. And, hopefully, vice versa."

Releasing a prim smile of his own, Lloyd stamped his palm against the mailbox he had been leaning against. "So does that explain why you're here, Miss Superman? The city girl who looks as if she'd rather be dead than to hear a pig snortin'?"

"Naw. It's just that the meatloaf is great."

The two oddly unified spirits shared a laugh before turning to make their way inside. Then, realizing his misstep, Lloyd briefly turned and jogged back around so he could readjust the mailbox so that it stood firmly on its aged but sturdy post.

"First dinner at the Kent farm," Lloyd noted aloud.

"Lord, give him strength," Lois replied with an approving nod.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Yeah, there's really no feasible excuse in regards to why this wasn't released sooner. I mean, yeah, there's the whole yearly vacation and the full-time work schedule and all that bugaboo but this should have been done sooner and, for that, I apologize. On that note, I had the privilege of spending three days on a beautiful beach while listening to two of my favorite bands of my childhood alongside a woman I've had the pleasure of dating for over a year now. As much as I appreciate my nerddom and the isolationistic activities that tend to coincide with my lifestyle, I would recommend that all of you take some time to take the steps in being able to do something quite similar (that is to say if you haven't done so already). As much as I love this series and all the things that help me write down the things that I can write, it's nice to get out and see more of the world every now and again.

And speaking of which. . .

* * *

_Issue #138 Preview_

So do you want to know where Stephanie Brown ran off to? All of you just clamoring and complaining about where the littlest of Earth's Green Lanterns has gone? "Where's Stephanie? What did you do with Stephanie? She was my favorite character! Blah blah blah blah blah!"

Well, now you've gone and done it. Now you're getting an arc that features nothing but Stephanie Brown! Six consecutive issues of an obnoxious, noisy, and impossibly noble champion of The Emerald Light and now you're just going to have to sit here and think about just what I could write about that could fill up 60,000 words of material. Still, if you wish to be sated then perhaps you should be around here next time for _In Brightest Night _and the next installment of The Misfits: A Spoiler's Serenade. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	138. A Spoiler's Serenade

Issue #138

A Spoiler's Serenade

_Four years before the present time_

It was the first time that she had ever felt her broken leg putting itself back together again, a truly unique situation only somewhat diluted by it being coupled with her quiet drifting through airless skies as the blackened skin of her left shoulder peeled away. She could catch the vulgar sight out of the corner of her drooping eyes as the muscle and tissue burned so thoroughly that her collar bone could clearly be seen amongst the blistered gristle, curdled and peeled until it was a rather sickly looking shade of pinkish-white. She shifted her chin back and forth, working to rearrange the right side of her jaw until she could return the connecting bones to their proper spot as if she was working to put together a jigsaw puzzle. The whole thing, a cornucopia of insanity just seemed to work together to bring her to calm and all of it was kept in time by the emptiness passing through the holes on the left edge of her abdomen, the rapidly healing apertures eventually sealing in the apertures until the blood flowing from her hale and hearty heart could no longer seep through.

_What an interesting place my life has taken me_, the Green Lantern couldn't help but think as her body continued to twist and turn in the blackness of space. Of course, the rumination inevitably brought her back to the first memory she still held onto tightly, the time when she was five and she had been trapped inside that burning building. She could still clearly remember how she had screamed for her mother and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of person she was for recalling such a thing with such fondness. However, the fact remained that it was the instant when her hero had descended from the heavens, his black armor indeed shining but only thanks to the glow of the surrounding inferno that closed in around them as he pulled her to safety.

For the thousandth time she wondered if she was going to make the right decision. The stinging sensations in her shoulder, jaw, and gut compounded with the pang in her heart as she retracted another series of memories. Bruce telling her that she was unworthy and unable to earn her childhood fantasy. Roman Sionis's sick smile as he buried the twirling power drill just inches away from her heart. The shadowed despair in Leslie Thompkins's eyes that she couldn't quite comprehend until it was far too late. Batman saying that she was part of the dream, if only for a little while, because they both knew that there was no way that she could ever do so again.

_Man, I'm being a little emo cunt right now_, Stephanie Brown thought as she absently scratched an itch on the back of her hand with the arm that she could actually move. _Guess it's true_, she then silently added as the emerald glow around her clashed against the inky blackness of the cold and endless vacuum_. In space, no one can hear you whine._

* * *

_Three days before the present time_

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns attempted to put a name to the tune that had been bouncing around in her thoughts for the past half hour or so while pondering over what did and didn't need to be taken. Briefly poring over her growing supply of both young adult novels and, well, more adult novels that she had already read, she abandoned the possibility of a literary adventure with a shrug of her shoulders and began to linger over the modest supply of clothes spread over her bed. There were camisoles and sweaters and skirts and dress slacks, none of which were the least bit appropriate for where she was heading but it wasn't as if such impracticalities had ever gotten in the way of her before.

"Why _are _you even bothering to pack for this little trek?" The Black Dog asked from Stephanie's doorframe, the British telepath and adopted big brother providing a voice for Robin's occasional good sense. "You're just reporting in with The Green Lantern Corps. Getting a few tests done perhaps. Maybe even doing a mission or two with 'em. You're not gonna have time to do any reading and the only clothes you're gonna need are the Robin suit and maybe your Lantern uniform."

"This is official leave for me, I'll have you know," Stephanie jousted back, her back facing her comrade. "I asked for it from Bruce and I got it and I'll be looking to relax after I get done with my errands."

Lloyd's consternated sigh was still easy to hear as Stephanie flumped herself onto the bed with enough of an impact to send even more of her clothes cascading over the corners of her once pristinely-made queen mattress. "I bloody swear, you're the only person I know who would think that official Green Lantern business could be construed as just an 'errand'."

"Well, it _is _an errand for me. While one may clean up their bathroom I will go liberate a newly organized space colony from a slave trader. You clean out your hard drive and I clean out a wave of meteors that are about to annihilate a planet." Stephanie turned to face her big brother's dubious stare and took encouragement from the expression's caustic air. "Don't look at me like that. There's only so much of my awesomeness that I can keep a hold of at all times."

"Oh good gravy," Lloyd bemoaned, the second-in-command of the world's preeminent black ops unit feeling the labors of something that didn't have the least bit to do with that previously mentioned venture. "And you're going to spend all your time travelin' to Oa watching that sodding farce of a science-fiction show. . ."

"Don't you. . ." Stephanie barked back while pointing a finger at her commander to emphasize her point. "No mocking The Doctor!"

Lloyd threw up his hands and presented his palms. "Well, pardon fuckin' me for getting knackered of Americans sinking their greedy little mitts into even more of my country's culture. I mean, you just take this trifle that we've been passing around as camp for decades on end and claim it's entertainment ambrosia. You all likey and want more and start tromping down the Thames, starving for entertainment after all the reality shite and talent shows devoid of talent dry up, and ya start gobbling the shit up like it was blood pudding. And _we're _supposed to just bow down and accept it?"

"We are embracing a part of global pop culture!"

"No, you are taking a part of global pop culture and ruining it! I mean, first ya got Men Behaving Badly, The Office, Weakest Link. . ."

"Okay, okay. . ."

"Ya dig up Monty Python's corpse on an annual basis. Oh, and bleeding don't get me started on Whose Line and that stumpy git with his glasses with the laugh like the fart of a jackass's asshole. . ."

"All right! Enough!" Stephanie shouted, the young lady surprised to find herself on the other side of a verbal bludgeoning. "I won't make you watch Doctor Who with me anymore, okay?"

The prim smile The Black Dog offered back told the story of his satisfaction. "Look, just be sure to watch yourself, right? I mean, you've already heard my speech regarding stretching our bounds a little too wide. Especially with something like Luthor's plans hanging over our hands."

"Yeah, and you know that I would usually agree with you," Stephanie replied, the young woman withholding a knowing sigh as she did so. She had been fiddling with some of the sleeves of her sweaters until she had wrapped three of her fingers around a woolly, green pullover that Lloyd had bought her for Christmas several years ago. "I just think that I could get something out of this that we can't get otherwise. I mean, the only way that Luthor could have gotten a hold of all the stuff he's been using is that he has some kind of extraterrestrial connections. That kind of thing is Corps business and maybe they'll be able to dig up something that we can't find."

"I call bullshit."

"Your dad is bullshit!"

"True. But I still call bullshit." Lloyd persisted, his arms now crossed over his chest. "First of all that last statement you made was doubtlessly taken verbatim from whatever Noah told you in an attempt to lend him a helping hand. Secondly, you know just as well as I do that this furlough has a lot more to do about what we saw in the future than what we're dealing with the present."

Robin let out a groan with the collapse of the final conversational veil. Her weary eyes briefly caught the determination in her big brother's countenance and she realized that the posturing was done. "Big brother, is it so wrong that I want to figure out a little bit more about what is making me tick?"

"Not at all," The Black Dog replied in a manner-of-fact manner. "I mean, you've managed to get yourself killed _and _see a future version of yourself pick up the mantle of the bat. These aren't exactly matters that most people could just shovel under the rug with a whole bunch of bad jokes."

The skepticism of Stephanie's upraised left eyebrow cut Lloyd's accusation off at the pass. "You questionin' my will power, boy?"

"Only in the matter of giving in to your addiction for British sci-fi dramedies."

The two squabblers grinned toothily at one another as their familiar détente was achieved once again. Feeling more relieved by it than she thought she should have been, Stephanie briefly gazed down at the stylistically wretched looking ring on her right ring finger before turning to meet Lloyd's gaze once again.

"There's a whole lot of things out there right now that could happen and I want to be ready for all of it. I want to be prepared if Luthor suddenly has some extraterrestrial army of catpeople or manbearpigs that come shooting down from the sky. I'd like to know more about this thing that helps me do the things that I couldn't do on my own." Stephanie needlessly raised her right hand and employed a fraction of her will power to summon a sparkle from her Oan power ring to emphasize the point. "And, lest we forget, I need to know more about what I can do when your own power starts to eat you alive and what I can do to keep you here."

Lloyd was tempted to offer back a sad smile before remembering where they were supposed to be and presented his sister with a dramatic sigh. "Just be honest, Tweety. You see me just wasting away and you can't even bear to look at me. Just shuffling off and leaving me alone when you could have made my last, few days more comfortable."

"I'm serious, Lloyd," Stephanie sternly snapped back as she moved quickly to bridge the gap between her and the first person that really looked at her as an equal. "And don't give me that crap the demon guy said about there being no way out of this and that you should just enjoy what you have left. You don't get to check out early without my say so."

There was a minute and unmistakable crack in the Green Lantern's voice. She had tried to fight both that and the urge to turn away in the wake of the moment of weakness but found herself unable to do little more than stand stock still as The Black Dog swooped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

"There may come a time when you think differently, Steph."

The stubborn woman shook her head back and forth with the obstinate resolution of a child. "Nuh uh. Everyone keeps pointing out things that I can't do and I always prove them wrong. That's what I do."

This time The Black Dog did respond with a sad grimace. Having once been in the same territory that he had fought for ages to be free from, he couldn't blind himself from how easy it would be for someone like Stephanie to stay gadding about in the battlefield of expectations. Realizing there was nothing he could say to pry his dear friend from it, he merely settled for punching Stephanie in the shoulder with enough force to tempt her into delivering one back.

"Just bring me back a souvenir, yeah? Maybe a nice emerald terrycloth robe or something, yeah?"

* * *

_Four years and five months before the present time_

Unable to comprehend the scene around her when she opened her eyes, Stephanie briefly decided that the best way to resolve the situation was to visually close herself from it. Clenching her eyelids tightly until a more palatable scene had the time to present itself, the fair-haired Gothamite regained her disbelief upon realizing that nothing had changed and everything was just as odd as it was before. The enormous room with its tall, expansive boundaries and walls of transparent glass were unfamiliar, the flat bed she had raised herself up from was made of a material she couldn't begin to identify, and her slight knowledge of astronomy did no good in helping to identify the twinkling stars and constellations that brightened the cold space outside the barriers of her surroundings. She stood up from the bed, her unfamiliar garb of a purple cloak fluttering in the cool air before settling against the back of her legs, and the sudden shifting of weight suddenly inspired her to take another attempt at shutting her eyes and waiting a moment before opening them once again.

There was no change. Same unknown space, same lack of familiar faces, same rampant confusion that came with the lack of familiarity. She let the air flow through her system with a long breath before taking some slow, unhurried steps forward, the hem of her cloak dragging against the pristine metal floor. Her muscles began to rebel at the very first unfamiliar motion and her thighs trembled but that dull hum of soreness paled in comparison as the memories suddenly hit her like a speeding truck.

Her father, the gleam in his eyes torn between rage and heartbreak, yelling that he had betrayed her as the satisfaction of having done something meaningful in her life was punctured by the knowledge that any illusion she had of a happy life at home was forever ruined.

The seizure that racked her body managed to blunt out most of the agony as she fell face first to the floor.

She had put together every word of her apology, had crafted the speech with all the loving care that she had guessed that he had put into his patrol routes or detective work. Her gut was so cold when Batman cut her off before she could barely begin, the expressions she could pick up against the shadows of the cowl immersing her with dread as he told her that she wasn't worthy of defending the streets of Gotham. That she would only get herself hurt.

No bile or spittle was available to stream from her lips as her body continued to twitch out of control and thus blood took its place. Her arms flailed about madly as what little conscious muscle movement she had was desperately determined to keep from passing out.

The drill was flaying through the muscles in her shoulder, the sharp point burrowing and rattling against the bone as The Black Mask looked on through his impassive mask. It had just been a high point in a longstanding paroxysm of agony started with the memories of cruel fists cutting and cracking her face and the humiliation of the coarse fabric of her Kevlar tights being pulled down against the bleeding cuts along her legs. Hands fondling her breasts and inner thighs and whispers from bad men talking about how much they always wanted to get a taste of one of those hot, little bitches that were always flying around the rooftops until Sionis interrupted and claiming that only he would be allowed to ruin her.

Now blood was streaming down her face as she clawed her long fingernails against her cheeks in an attempt to rip it all away. Hellish seconds that coagulated into the longest two minutes of Stephanie's second life finally passed as her sanity began to put itself back together again, her off-kilter thought patterns morbidly reminding her that the stains along her fingernails were the same color as the tunic that Tim had taken to wearing on patrol.

At least after he had taken it back from her after she had been tossed aside.

She carelessly wiped at her face with the back of her right hand as she slumped the back of her head against the cool floor, her eyes detachedly taking in the roof of her surroundings as she remembered that odd little look that Doctor Thompkins had on her face when she had started to fiddle with her IV drip. What had been left of her lucid thoughts had struggled to ask what was wrong but the drugs in her system left her too addled to do much of anything until it was too late. She even wanted to talk to Batman about it as he joined her at her death bed but then Bruce started telling her that she was part of the dream, that she was worth something after all, and then she remembered that it seemed like there was nothing else worth discussing.

"Well, it looks like you have caused quite a stir with your arrival, young lady."

Stephanie chose to respond slowly to the unexpected arrival. Perhaps it was just the matter of her recent death that prompted the young woman to feel a little more indolent as it came to maintaining her own safety but as she glanced to her left to regard the stranger the former Robin suddenly felt strangely at ease. She couldn't quite assign it all to just one part of the stranger: his short stature, the wisdom that seemed to radiate from the alien's cerulean skin, or the palish white hair that surrounded the perimeter of his round head and elongated ears that made her think of some kind of cool, alien grandpa that she might have dreamed about as a kid. Still, it was with the feeling of ease that came from all of it that Stephanie chose to abandon her protective instincts and allow the gentleman to help her to her feet, her spare hand slowly working to remove the drying fluids that clustered around her disheveled features.

"It seems that you have managed to recover from the initial shock with greater ease than I would have imagined," noted Stephanie's unexpected helper, his candor still holding the genteel, peaceful alto tones that greeted her. "Please do not be alarmed. I am Ganthet, an Guardian of the planet Oa."

And, just like that, the mention of the name was all that was needed to coerce Stephanie's inner fangirl into attempting to push the rest of her out of her stupor. "Oa? Like. . . like Green Lantern Oa?"

Ganthet's bushy eyebrows slipped higher onto his shriveled brow. "Perhaps I should not be surprised to find that a child from Earth would somehow come to be aware of matters on a planet so far away."

Stephanie briefly shook her head to and fro. It suddenly sprung upon her that she should have been checking her pulse or looking at her reflection or confirming any other signs of life rather than just listening to the escalating pounding of her heart but there was no stopping her thoughts now. "But. . . you guys. . . I know. . . English. . . you know. . . Am I dead?"

The once lone survivor of Oa's cherished Guardians presented his unexpected guest with a gentle smile. "You _were _dead. However, I would recommend that you should devote more of your energies into the fact that you are alive again and for reasons that no one can yet identify." Casually noting the Earthling's slack-jawed astonishment he hastened to add, "If anything else, that will allow you the chance to catch up with those who had just learned of your arrival."

As one could understand, Stephanie Brown had precious little to work with when it came to handling such a request. However, like much of us are prone to do in situations such as these, the lifelong Gothamite sought comfort in that which she was most familiar. She started with the newspaper clippings she had collected as a child, danced about her times as Spoiler and the scant weeks she had the honor of being Robin and ultimately zeroed in on the handfuls of conversations that she had been in with Tim's friends in Young Justice and The Teen Titans.

Then she went back to the time when her, Bart, and Connor played a drinking game that concerned naming all the superheroes that had come back from the dead. Superman, Green Arrow, Hal Jordan, The Flash, Aquaman on two occasions, Raven on so many occasions that none of the superhero buffs were able to be fully sure of the exact count. Some of the greatest heroes the world had ever known.

And now. . . her.

There was no way to stop the smile from spreading onto her face like an infection. In addition to that, no force, holy or otherwise, was enough to restrain the unrestrained cackle that poured out of her throat.

"AHHAHAHAHAHA! Suck on that Derpman and Snobbin! You may think you're better than Stephanie Brown but look at her now! I'm back from the dead! When did _you _come back from the dead! HA! HA! HA!"

Ganthet tilted his head to one side as he examined the blood-stained Earthling as she broke into what appeared to be a rather garish and awkward victory dance. "Well, my limited time on Earth may have left me with the conclusion that your kind were rather eccentric in terms of dealing with stress. That being said, I must confess that I was hardly expecting this kind of reaction."

Stifling her laughter by placing two fingers against her lips, Stephanie presented the palm of her free hand as she recovered herself. "Oh. Hee hee. I'm sorry. It's just that. . . this is so fuckin' cool, y'know!"

"Yes, I felt the same way when my ethereal consciousness was stitched back together as my physical body clawed through its grave," Ganthet dryly replied, his gentility and occasional wry humor mixing together awkwardly. "Miss, I must ask if you truly do have your mental faculties about you."

Halfway on the road to twisting her body into a cartwheel as a ways of properly expressing her giddiness, Stephanie reluctantly began to gather the many floating slivers of reason that passed for her sanity. "Oh my sweet, buttery Jesus, there are so many people I need to get a hold of now. I mean, there's Cassandra, Tim. . . My mom!"

"Notable concerns all, I'm sure," Ganthet said patiently, the demigod briefly wondering if he was testing his luck as he put a hand on the Earthling's shoulder. "However, I must inform you that my colleagues among The Guardians of Oa are quite insistent upon meeting you at the first healthy opportunity. Forgive me if I am providing too much information in one sitting but you must understand that we are not ordinarily encumbered with instances of dead humanoids simply appearing in one of our planet's most sacred chambers and unconsciously employing the supernatural power within to revive their physical bodies."

Rarely ever regarded as one of the sharper knives in the metaphorical drawers within which she dwelled, Stephanie naturally needed a handful of seconds to mull Ganthet's explanation over. "So that's what I did, huh?" she asked, the utter lack of reaction prompting her to believe that there was no reason for this Ganthet person to tell her a lie. "Well, aren't I just awesome!" With the same joie de vivre that had brought her mind out of its potential madness only minutes before, the revitalized Gothamite briefly mulled over her situation before giving a casual shrug of shoulders. "All right. Lead on, mi jefe. But no anal probes."

* * *

_Gotham – Thompkins Clinic - Three weeks before the present time_

"Girl, you know I never know what I'm supposed to say when you tell me somethin' like this."

Her petite but powerful frame comfortably covered by a modestly clean t-shirt and blue jeans, Stephanie let her sympathy eke out with a hesitant smile. "Well, it's not like this kind of stuff is really explained in the whole superhero handbook. Still, I mean, I came back from the last couple trips okay, right?"

"No, you came back from your last trip dead," Cesar Rojelio countered with an impressive degree of neutrality, the lieutenant of The Grove Street Ballers crossing his tanned, strapping arms across his lightly tattooed chest. "An' don't forget that I wouldn't have heard about _that_ if your brother hadn't told me the truth for you when you weren't saying anything."

"Yeah, and that reminds me that I owe Lloyd another slap to the back of his head for that," Stephanie mumbled aloud, the young Green Lantern vainly looking up to the ceiling for a little bit of strength. Looking back at her boyfriend of nearly nine months, she soon discovered that her usual evasive tactics weren't going to get her out of this. "Cesar, this whole coming back from the dead. . . again. . . thing. That's a big reason why I'm going back to the place where I got my power. Half of the people I talk to about this ring on my finger tell me that I've been doing things with this that shouldn't be possible and the other half have been buoying up my ego and telling me that there's something more to what I'm doing right now."

Rubbing a calloused hand over his recently shaved scalp, Cesar had no problems expressing his doubt. "What? You tellin' me that bein' both Robin _and _a Green Lantern ain't enough for ya?"

"Well, apparently it isn't," Stephanie said harshly, her temper momentarily getting the better of her. "Look, I wish I could explain all this stuff better but I don't think I can. This isn't just part of my job. It's something I've got to do for myself. . ."

Looking as if he hadn't really needed convincing, Cesar let Stephanie's emotions run for a bit longer before he rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "Look, I ain't about to tell you how to live your life and I know I can't stop you from livin' it. You don't have to worry about me getting in your way, a'ight?"

There was some understandable hesitation as Stephanie briefly looked over the different ways that the reply could have been taken. Seeing Cesar's certain smile managed to give her an extra dose of knowledge and she found that she had to subdue the instinct to rush forward and wrap her boyfriend in a hug before taking a step backward with a cautious raise of her eyebrows. "Wait a minute. That was way too easy," she noted while chuckling right along with Cesar. "I'm. . . I'm getting blackmailed into another Rojelio family dinner, aren't I? You're gonna just leave me at that big ass dinner table again and chug brews with your hermanos while every female in that room stares at the little white girl."

"Well, maybe that's a part of it," Cesar confessed with a knowing grin. "Still, it ain't like I don't see the way you look after all the people that come in this clinic. I see you around my daughter and my little sister an' I see who you are. That's something I wanna keep around." Meeting his lover in the middle of the cramped examination room, the bronzed automobile savant had no trouble with allowing Stephanie to give him a tight hug. "Plus, y'know, ain't every day some little _rich_ white girl drops into the 'hood who gets as wild as you in the bed, right?"

Playful shoves soon collapsed into the kind of romantic gestures that the couple had grown to hunger for. Firm, unyielding embraces with kisses that started off quick and soft but ended up being coarse and aggressive with the passion that came with it. It was the kind of ardor that occasionally allowed for some awkward situations and that possibility became truth once again as a loud clearing of the throat brought them both back to attention.

"Oh, sorry about that, ma'am," Cesar began, the hardened former criminal sheepishly scratching the back of his head. Meanwhile, displaying the bravery and strength of will that had left some people believing that she would soon take her place among the greatest of The Green Lantern Corps, Stephanie backpedaled away from the knowing glare while hiding her face from view. "Well, um, guess I'll be leavin' now, beautiful."

Stephanie did her best to return the sentiment by raising her left palm while using her other hand to shield the flush on her cheeks. As tolerant as she usually was to the idea of starting and conducting a scene, there was still something about the good doctor's silent critiques that could bring out her bashfulness. "Sorry about that, Leslie."

"Oh?" the old woman replied, the mocking scorn from her crumpled brow a response to Stephanie's audacity for not leveling more respect in the face of her supervisor. "Well, I suppose that this is hardly the first time that I've ever caught one of my volunteers doing something that they shouldn't be doing." The feisty rejoinder was enough to draw a sheepish but toothy grin from Stephanie even as Cesar quietly excused himself and left through the open door at Doctor Thompkins's back. As the aged wooden door with the slightly chipped white paint slid shut, the longtime personal physician for the Wayne family chose to unnecessarily support the wall by angling her aged back against it.

"Of course, this is also the first time that 'I'm about to go on a trip across the galaxy' could be used as a logical excuse here. Perhaps you would rather go with that explanation?"

Her awkwardness gone, Stephanie looked upon her former murderer with a cautious glare. "I really am sorry, Doctor Thompkins. I mean, I know I just started coming back here as much as I'd like to and the second you give me all this stuff I really wanted to do I just end up having to pack up my bags and leave again."

"It's quite all right, Stephanie," Leslie broke in, the wizened caregiver clued-up enough of the younger woman's tendency for rambling that she made sure to interrupt. "Bruce gave me all the necessary details about what you were going to do and I wouldn't get in the way of it even if I wanted to. Besides, if I suddenly didn't have to fret over dealing with a shortage of volunteers then I'd start feeling that I wasn't doing my job."

Stephanie bobbed her head to an even, peaceful rhythm. Having consistently come to volunteer at the pro-bono health center for nearly two years now, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns had come to acquire an easy understanding with the eldest of Bruce's mentors. And Leslie, having lived through more than enough years to acquire the foresight to see her charge's moves on this emotional chessboard, had no qualms with meandering her clueless quarry into the trap.

"And since you've already answered a question that you were comfortable with answering. . ." Leslie looked on as Stephanie cinched up out of instinct. Having a healthy amount of knowledge of the poor girl's past, it was almost enough to tempt the older women into conceding but Leslie kept at it. "I've heard through the grapevine that Tim has been trying to get in touch with you. With all the extra time you've had to spend here, I would think that slicing some time out of your schedule for a 10-minute phone call wouldn't have been such a problem."

Stephanie hedged once again and Leslie didn't need to be a master detective to understand why. "Tim and I are long done," the current Robin said stubbornly as she turned to sort the haphazardly placed items within her personal locker. There was a pregnant pause as Leslie patiently awaited the next excuse, the gaps in the silence provided only by the shuffling of scraps of paper and the scooping up of an iPhone. "He's got the Wonder Chick and I've got Cesar. He's being all West Coast Robin and I'm Gotham Robin. It works."

Doctor Thompkins made no attempt to hide either her skepticism or that critical glare that could even give Bruce Wayne pause. "Young lady, I've come to know you well enough to realize that the only time that there's ever a break in a conversation with you is when you start thinking about what you're going to say before you say it. And, since that doesn't happen as often as it should, the only reason you're doing that is because you're being careful not to say something that you don't want somebody else to hear."

The vitriol she drew from the accusation was enough to break Stephanie out of her cautious ways. "Well, what do you want me to say? In fact, why do I even have to say anything? Why does everybody in my life just seem to think that the most important thing in the world for them to do is to tell me about what I need to do?"

"I'm not saying that it is," Leslie said in assurance, her impartial candor doing far more to keep Stephanie in the right frame of mind rather than if she had gone for anything passive or aggressive. "And it doesn't matter what I or anybody else has to say about how you handle this. What matters is that you need to change how to handle this because it's clear that your heart isn't happy about the way things are."

* * *

_Oa – Citadel of the Guardians_

Stephanie had never liked the feeling that she was being examined from afar and the extended duration of that feeling hadn't done anything to make her feel any better about it. Nearly two weeks had passed since she had opened her eyes upon returning from the grave and the sparse supply of interactions she had been in did little to make her feel at home. The nurses and doctors assigned to look after her varied in everything from age to skin color to number of eyes and horns to preferred dialects but she didn't need the universal translators to determine that the responses to her unexpected presence ranged from the pity offered by someone who saw a bug trapped in a jar to the professional compassion that she imagined was adopted by prison wardens when they were dealing with an inmate that they couldn't wait to get into the lethal injection chamber.

The only presence on the planet that had treated her with the slightest supply of consideration was Ganthet and the Guardian was patient but certain to inform her that he was far too encumbered with his own busy schedule to spend a great deal of time around with her. Still, as dismaying as that admittance could have been, Stephanie still felt buoyed by the sight of the white-haired demigod at the entrance to the massive bastion that she had been summoned to only a handful of minutes ago. They had long gone over the details of what the meeting to come would entail so that allowed the former Robin to assault her unwearied guide with questions that had nothing to do with the pressing matter. As a matter of fact, the list that she had assembled over the course of the protracted days ended up being far too great to complete so Stephanie had taken a surprising amount of care in asking what she thought to be the most pertinent ones.

Had anyone she knew from Earth been contacted about what had happened to her? What did the medical exams reveal? What did he think would happen to her once her encounter with the other Guardians was over?

As she had come to expect, Ganthet coolly offered what information, just enough illumination to leave her fuming to ask the next question on her list as they continued to make their way through hallways that become less and less sparsely populated the further they descended. Finally they arrived in an underground chamber that rose to such a towering degree that Stephanie strained her neck to try and find the ceiling. By the time she had silently declared her efforts to be futile, Ganthet was standing at another pair of immense double doors made of what Stephanie could only presume to be some marble like material judging from how smoothly it reflected the light around the massive chamber. Accepting Ganthet's silent invitation to proceed, she passed through the vestibule after the Guardian had swung the doors wide to be greeted by a smaller assembly room where over a dozen strangers awaited her.

Each of them bore a distinct similarity to Ganthet with the purple and red robes that covered their diminutive bodies to their sky blue skin and hair white as early morning snowfall but there was a distinct difference to be found as well. With each gaze that seemed ready to dissect every hint of her she longed more and more for being isolated and alone again. Ganthet soon strode to her side and that seemed to relieve her for a moment but as she took in more and more of her surroundings, the combination of the seemingly endless wave of black space and twinkling stars where a floor should have been and the other Guardians looming over and around her rendering her cautious once again.

"The Council will once again remind the speaker of its distinct reservations for continuing to allow this representative of Sector-3814 to roam the most revered halls of Oa. Choose your words carefully, Representative Ganthet."

As anxious as she probably should have been in the presence of the booming, seemingly disembodied voice, Stephanie suddenly couldn't help but feel a bit insulted. _What's that supposed to mean? It's not like I __**asked **__to come here to this hellhole and get poked and prodded and eat crappy food that wiggles when I stab it with my alien spork! Hell, the only good thing about the last two weeks is that I __**haven't **__gotten an anal probe._

"Fellow members of The Council, I will once again stress that Stephanie Brown is clearly unaware that this circumstance was even the most remote of possibilities. Given your own past experiences of being forced within a deathlike state, surely you would understand that our visitor would feel confusion and frustration that could easily be improperly assigned."

"A bold jumping off point considering how The Guardians came about those deathlike states, Ganthet," the ghostly bellow countered, its origin still unfamiliar to Stephanie despite her increasingly frantic attempts to wrangle it in. "This. . . Stephanie Brown as you call it. . . is of Earth, the same planet that gave birth to the creature that nearly brought our civilization to ruin."

"And yet this planet also produced the champion that provided the spark of life for Oa to return from its ashes," Ganthet quickly countered. "And while we once again have the longevity to discuss the exploits of Hal Jordan and Kyle Rayner until this Earthling fades away from the living yet again, we cannot dismiss the unique circumstances that surround this matter. She materialized in one of the closest epicenters of the supernatural conglomeration that empowers our Green Lantern Corps."

"We are all aware of how unique this case could be considered," The Council replied, the capes of the looming immortals ruffling about with the aid of a seemingly silent gust. "This is precisely why such caution and reservation must be employed. Throughout its short history of existence, the dominant species on Earth has had an enormous impact upon the goings on of the cosmos. Additionally, while some of these events have been quite beneficial, we could easily argue that the majority of them have inevitably provided more harm than good to all that lives. With that consideration in mind, surely you can comprehend our reservations of dealing with what appears to a rather unimpressive example of their kind."

_Unimpressive? Look, I didn't ask to be brought here, you blueberry assholes! And if I'm something that's supposed to be soooo beneath your notice then why are we even taking the time to talk about me? If you don't want me here than just send me back home! _

Again, these were all things that Stephanie would have said if the circumstances were not something she was still trying to wrap her head around. Of course, the crux of it all was that it wasn't even the faraway planet or the recent coming back from the dead or even the floating midgets that could incinerate her with a snap of their stubby fingers that kept the words trapped in her thoughts.

"Are you concerned with the thought that so much attention being brought down upon you?" asked the booming voice in a manner that nearly made Stephanie jump out of her skin. "Perhaps you believe that the resolve you've employed to hold your tongue is something worthy of our notice but know that we see your will being subdued with fear, Stephanie Brown. This council beholds your deepest thoughts and see your greed for approval that helped guide you on the path towards your demise. We bear witness to the love you have for those that feed your desire for praise and the rage you would display if those you care for are put into harm's way. You still wonder how all your compassion and hope for something better led to absolutely nothing and those quantities may make a hero or a monster and the universe already has enough of the former and far too many of the latter. With that awareness in the forefront, perhaps you could explain why we should do anything less than to eliminate the aberration you are before any bitter fruits can be retrieved?"

Stephanie would have confessed to have been thrown by the last handful of metaphors but she still thought she had kept it together long enough to get the gist. As she began to come to her conclusions, the young woman whose final major act in her first life had caused the death of over 1,000 people suddenly felt two distinctive parts of her both clamoring to draw attention to themselves. The first had been born in the stacks of newspaper clippings and photographs of her childhood heroes, that impossibly stubborn, hopelessly unrealistic child that even now still dreamed of being just like them and was clamoring at the thought of such an opportunity. The other, a presence that had gained greater strength with enduring every tragedy of her life: the sexual abuse she suffered as a child, her father leaving her life for good, the baby she had given away, and every instance when she was told that she couldn't be something she wanted to be and it ended up being true, was pleading desperately to back away now. She had rarely ever listened to that quiet but determined portion of her and she had come to recognize that her ignorance of it most likely led to that creature growing stronger with every mistake she made.

But if that rational part of her was supposed to be so strong then why was the overexcited child still so easy for her to hear? Why was she pulling out the cockiest grin she could muster while placing her hands on her hips? Why was she feeling so confident? Why could she barely keep herself from just letting everything loose and shouting back her reply as loud as she could?

"Well, how about because I'm telling you that I deserve another shot. How about the fact that I apparently did something that hasn't been done before and you know you can chalk that up to whatever you want it to be but you also think that it might be special and worth a bit of your time. Oh, and I am worth your time, ya floating blueberries. I'm _going _to be a hero and I'm going to defend what's mine and I'm going to make up for all the stupid shit I did before. And if you do give me what I think you're going to give me, there's going to come a time, sometime in the not too distant future, when you floating weirdos that are just so comfortable with judging everything about me are gonna have to hear me tell you that I proved you wrong."

The reaction that followed wasn't entirely what Stephanie was looking for but she had long grown used to that. The universal distaste that had been thrown her way before was all but eliminated and in its place was a mixture of outrage, shock, and even scant amounts of respect and anticipation if she had squinted to look for it. Only Ganthet chose to remain loyal to his resolve, a point of irony given that he was the only Guardian that had projected any hint of actual emotion in the moments prior, but the fair-haired loudmouth decided to chalk that up as the reaction of somebody who was waiting to see what would happen.

"Venerable Guardians, I would wish to interrupt if I may."

Having long grown used to the benefits of the universal translator clipped over the upper ridge of her right ear, Stephanie didn't realize that the new arrival was actually speaking English until she had turned around to see the source. This only prompted her inner wannabe superhero to let out another cheer as a familiar hero marched into the room with a dignified gait that brought him quickly to her right hand as Ganthet remained to her left. A small part of her looked at the blonde-haired gentleman in his green, yellow, red, and purple ensemble and wondered what all the older superheroes were smoking when they came up with their costume designs but most of her thoughts were dominated with the realization that Alan Scott, the hero that had been the public face of Gotham's heroics before the city had become dominated by a giant bat soaring through the shadows of the night, looked every bit the knight in shining armor.

"We presume that Ganthet invited you to speak on this Earthling's behalf, Alan Scott," the booming voice noted, a shard or two of weariness in what had once been the domineering candor of The Guardians of Oa. "Your record as a member of The Green Lantern Corps speaks for itself thus The Council will accept your intrusion."

"Then let me push my luck and ask for a plea of leniency, Guardians." Scott's frank concession sparked a quick flame of outrage in Stephanie's animated actions but a look of warning from Ganthet allowed the veteran superhero and mainstay of The Justice Society of America to continue to state his case. "Sirs and madams, we are all well aware that I am no longer powered by the mystic wells of Oa and that may force me to lose authority in these halls but I know of my home and the tendencies of those that inhabit it. We are flawed souls, just as all those that are examined and tested to join The Green Lantern Corps, and we have the capacity for successes and mistakes just as every recruit that the rings elect."

"You may forget that many Green Lanterns have risen and fallen in our shared quest for galactic justice, Alan Scott. However, there was only one of our rank that had sought the destruction of everything that every soldier and every Guardian has sacrificed and struggled to build throughout untold millennia and that creature was an Earthling."

"And it was an Earthling that delivered us the opportunity to reach those heights once again," Ganthet pleaded, the emotion within the Guardian's voice startling even Stephanie.

"Thus one brings about revival and the other ruination. A 'fifty-fifty shot', as you Earthlings may say. Hardly the best percentages to have at your side when it comes to ensuring the value of one life against the infinity of the cosmos."

"Then perhaps this instance, as unusual as it is, shouldn't be solved so drastically," countered Alan Scott, the hero that had spent a lifetime helping others both in and out of costume using his knowledge to twist the argument back into his favor. "Hal Jordan's crimes may have been great but this young woman should not be made to suffer for them simply because she wants the opportunity to prove herself. With everything that both you and The Green Lantern Corps can bring to bear against one lowly Earthling, exactly what is the harm in allowing her that?"

* * *

_The present time_

Just as Ganthet had expected, Stephanie had voted to eschew the simple handshake that he had offered upon her arrival at the front of the citadel in favor of taking him into her arms in a mighty bear hug. Having become the eldest of his kind and the Guardian that was universally elected to serve as a liaison between The Council and The Green Lantern Corps, the wizened sage had acquired a great deal more experience as it came to catering to the emotions of many of the beings within the ranks of Oa's military police. That knowledge, along with the news that Kyle Rayner had to offer about the antics of his younger peer, warned him to expect such an unusual reaction and passed through it calmly.

"Heydy howdy, blueberry," the young Green Lantern said in further greeting after placing Ganthet back on solid ground. "Okay, so I just got done with the medical exams so now do I get to look forward to another meeting with the rest of The Guardians?"

The same, knowing twinkle that had glimmered in Ganthet's seemingly bottomless black eyes during their first meeting was plain to see as he and Stephanie began to stride away from the stronghold. "I am afraid that the council is already encumbered with their tasks to take their time out to reconvene with a lone Green Lantern."

"Hey, I am more than just 'lone', as far as I'm concerned," Stephanie gaudily proclaimed while easily accepting Ganthet's silent invitation to walk with him. "You're looking at the soldier who went toe-to-toe with The Anti-Monitor. I helped get Parallax out of Kyle's system. I led the charge against The Sinestro Corps when they had taken over Earth."

"As your reports have loudly proclaimed," Ganthet said in a lightly placatory manner, the immortal somehow finding amusement in the young Earthling's unrestrained bluster. "Do not believe that your efforts have gone unnoticed by my fellow Guardians, Stephanie Brown. . ."

"I rescued Batman from Sinestro before facing him in single combat and coming out alive, I helped bring down Neron when he tried to bring hell on Earth and I came back from the dead _again_. Hey, I even got a gold star performance on PDA. On guitar!"

"Which I would presume is the reason why you've chosen to grace us with your presence rather than continue to work from afar?" Ganthet felt no need to specify which particular exploit he was putting under the metaphorical microscope. "As you've doubtlessly been made aware of, there have been numerous instances of Green Lanterns that have been both physically and physiologically altered by their continuous exposure to Oan supernatural energy. Rest assured that our clinicians and mages have a great deal of experience in this realm of knowledge and will help provide all the answers you require. Until then though, I have the potentially dismal pleasure to inform you that you have another professional obligation to fulfill."

The Green Lantern put her chin at an angle and pursed her lips as she worked the news over before finally shrugging her shoulders. "Hey. As long as I get the answers to my questions eventually then it's not like I'm gonna complain. Of course, it might help if whatever this is was something that was in my wheelhouse."

"Well, we imagine that this is something you would want to be a part of," Ganthet replied with certainty, the firmness of the Guardian's tone drawing Stephanie's attention. "As you know, the Oan government, in conjunction with the Green Lantern Corps, maintains an informational network designed to not only provide foreknowledge of situations that might call for additional attention but also keep track of notable fugitives. Criminals like Leokar Kurkosaw, for example."

Whatever morsels of Stephanie's attention that hadn't already been gathered to listen to what Ganthet had to say soon rushed forward to join in on the fun. "You know where he is?"

"Rumors persist that he has been spotted in notable commercial landmarks throughout The Forlyl Nebula. No distinct information has been gathered as it comes to what he may be doing there but one might assume that Kurkosaw gathered some kind of valuable materials that he had gathered during the time he had served as a leading officer of The Sinestro Corps during their short lived occupation of Karbarra."

"Well, something like that has got to leave some kind of paper trail. Or a people trail, hell, I don't know," Stephanie remarked with a frown, her right thumb and ring finger lightly pinching the spot of flesh between her lower lip and the top of her chin. "Look, I'm not going to turn this down or anything but I can't help but wonder why you guys are turning to me for this. I mean, I know I can kick a lot of ass but the whole search and investigation thing ain't my specialty. There have got to be a whole lot more Lanterns that are better suited for a search like this."

Ganthet's white eyebrows tilted along with his cerulean brow. "Well, quite a humble claim coming from the disciple of a detective whose exploits are known throughout the cosmos," he replied with a smirk that only helped draw out a grumble from the young warrior. "That being said, you will actually be working alongside a team of Lanterns headed by Graf Toren."

Stephanie naturally hissed at the name dropping. "Well, let's just get all the awkwardness out onto the playing field," she mused before coming upon another thought. "Hold up. We're sending a whole squad after this guy? Why? I mean, I know Kurkosaw isn't exactly a featherweight but he doesn't have his Lantern powers anymore, right? Rayner destroyed the power battery on Qward and now Sinestro went back to not having any friends just like it's supposed to be."

"You know, it isn't considered proper for a member of the Corps to be asking so many questions," Ganthet remarked.

"Well, that's probably the reason why I'm usually not allowed to play with the rest of the Lanterns," Stephanie countered with equal bluntness, the second gesture of humility in as many minutes seeming to spur Ganthet's amusement. "So what's going on here? Am I supposed to be playing the part of the scary bully here?"

"In a manner of speaking, Miss Brown. As you might have guessed, this is not the Corps' first attempt to apprehend Leokar Kurkosaw. In fact, the fugitive has managed to murder or permanently incapacitate nearly a dozen Lanterns in the eight months since the dissolution of The Sinestro Corps. There are a number of possibilities as to how this happened and none of them bode well."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay, so we have yet another installment that was delivered a little later than it probably should have been. I'm afraid the only thing I have to blame is my few lingering supplies of laziness and the fact that I spent the previous weekend going to nine concerts in three days. Gotta love music festivals, huh? Oh, and I would just like to point out that, should I still be alive 43 years from now, I want to be as cool as Buddy Guy. Or Al Green. That would work too.

Hey, remember when I was still complaining about comics in this thing?

* * *

_Issue #139 Preview_

Stephanie Brown may have to deal with a dangerous fugitive but that's clearly not the only thing on her plate. There are newfound powers to deal with, loved ones to care for, and more of those little moments that make our Green Lantern into the wonderful little nuisance that she's become. If you're interested in finding out a little more then feel free to stop by for the next installment of _The Misfits_: Power Gained and Taken Away. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	139. Power Granted and Taken Away

Issue #139

Power Granted and Taken Away

_Oa – Four years, four months, and one week before the present time_

Stephanie no longer felt like a child just waking up on Christmas morning. She was the malnourished brat who had just leapt off of her poorly-maintained bed to discover that her cramped, tiny room had been filled with so many presents that the sheer bulk of them had expanded the room until it dwarfed everything she knew. Her stomach filled up with the richest foods and the fatigue garnered through hours and days of interrupted sleep had been wiped away from her eyes. The heart still held its scars but was overwhelmed with the possibility that she finally had a way to make everything better again. All the solutions were laid out in front of her, every plan and possibility a guaranteed success so long as she put forth the effort because nobody was strong enough to pull the rug out from under her again.

Not with this ugly ass ring on her finger.

She somehow managed to guess that everything wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed at the present time. On the other hand, the energy that was pouring through her proved to be a powerful, almost narcotic form of dissident against every thing, every action, every _person _who told her that she couldn't do something. That she shouldn't do something. That she couldn't do anything. And, yeah, it was probably an incredibly immature way to look at things after everything that had happened but the fact of the matter was that there was only one thing that was worth doing right now.

She wanted to fly. So she did, tight quarters be damned. The ordained guardian of a solar system sector now devoid of life zigged and zagged and fluttered and soared about the 12 by 12 meter storage facility like a panicked housefly but there was no dread to be found in her. Her body hummed with the power that enabled her limbs to defy the laws of gravity, her neurons bubbling with all the new possibilities available to it. Each and every impossibility was all identified and explained by the emerald green aura that wrapped around the Earthling's body with the same ease as the loose fitting black pants and the green-sleeved, black and white shirt adorned with the lantern-shaped insignia that presented her as a member of the Green Lantern Corps.

"I hope you're rememberin' that this could all still be a temporary thing, soldier," a gruff-sounding grumble reminded the overexcited recruit as Stephanie decided to put her feet back on solid ground. "And you better never forget that the magic you inherited came from a fine warrior who gave everything he had for his duty. You'd do well to keep that in mind the next time you want to act like a fool of a poozer."

There were few things that could break through the excitement of a Green Lantern recruit that was getting the first taste of their power but the fact that he could bring such excitable souls down to earth was one of the many reasons why Kilowog had been chosen for his task. An immense figure despite his squat, round face, the veteran Corps member's bright pink skin, stocky nose and tiny black eyes was nearly enough to coerce Stephanie into openly stating that she was being confronted with a cross between a pig and a lobster. Of course, the imposing manner that was presented by the sole survivor of the Bolovar Vix prompted the younger Lantern to hastily stuff those jokes away. She had heard more than enough horror stories from her fellow trainees to know that jokes and juvenile excitement was not going to get the job done here.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Stephanie snappily barked out, the young lady trying her best to follow the customs she had examined in the last several weeks despite how uncomfortable she felt doing so. Perhaps realizing this, Kilowog turned away from the attempt with a grunt and began to busy himself with an array of medical supplies stacked on the cabinets that lined the western wall.

"Well, it _does _seem that the ring is responding to ya pretty well. Thank Oa that cases like yours are few and far between but most critters who get rings that were passed on from another sector have a hard time adjusting to them. Meanwhile, you're takin' to yours like a vickuk to a creek."

Stephanie had no way of knowing that a "vickuk" was the closest equivalent to a duck that Bolovax Vik had to offer but her thoughts were already wrapped up in the possibilities. _First I'm a Green Lantern and now I'm a special one_, she began to venture as the anticipation of it was nearly enough to coerce her into bouncing on her heels from the excitement. _This is gonna be so fuckin' awesome. Maybe I'll be like. . . like do a whole Fox McCloud thing. Be a bounty hunter. . . but a good one! Heh heh. Do a barrel roll!_

"Just remember that there are a whole bunch of 'special' people like you stacked up like cordwood on our battlefields, poozer!" Kilowog then exclaimed with an odd kind of gruff gentility, the tilt of his head indicating that the young recruit should follow him as he exited the makeshift medical bay. "Now let's get moving, Private Brown! It's high time you see how much work you've got ahead of ya."

* * *

_One week before the present time_

Robin measured off an admonitory glare and leveled at the whirring camera that hovered in front of her forehead. It was a meaningful gesture, something usually reserved for intergalactic despots and it had been the last thing seen by a number of meaningful marauders that had been feared throughout the cosmos before they had crossed her path but still the infernal machine continued its task unabated. Frowning at her failure, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns briefly tested the strength of the manacles bound around her wrists before sticking her tongue out at the imaging device and blowing out her lower lip to create a fart-like sound.

"Please refrain from moving until the diagnostic is completed," a taxed but otherwise patient voice broke in, the lack of effort brought to the rejoinder only inspiring Stephanie further. She did manage to allow the picture-taking device to perform its labors and even patiently batted her tongue against the edges of her cheeks to give off the impression that she was willing to listen. Admiring the levers and other support equipment that was attached to the bench at her back, she was halfway through humming out the guitar solo of Alabama Getaway before she ultimately began to give in and started to sing the chorus of The Grateful Dead's trademark song.

"You do realize that some of us have other matters that require our attention?" asked the examiner, his mildly irritated candor an obvious sign that he had a great deal of experience when it came to enduring the antics of fussy vigilantes. "Quite frankly, I can hardly understand how you could find the time to waste other peoples' precious seconds given all the effort you seem to be putting into squandering your own."

"Calm down, Noah," cautioned a friendlier surveyor, her more thoughtful delivery proving that she either had a great deal more experience here or that she just didn't have the same amount of experience as it came to dealing with this particular patient. "Stephanie, I know that getting scanned like this isn't the most comfortable thing to do but we're almost done. Just wait a little while longer, okay?"

Stephanie couldn't help but frown at that. "Y'know, now I'm starting to see how you managed to put up with Bruce all those years," she noted, her lips lightly jostling her face but yet the rest of her remained still as stone. "Quite frankly, I think all of this is just some karmic refund for all the missed medical appointments when I was a kid. I mean, do you _know _how many shots I had to catch up on just so I could get into elementary school? The nurse looked at me like I was gonna start foaming at the mouth before I started chewing on her brain."

"Well, I find it hard to believe that your medical records had everything to do with that," The Calculator replied with a hint of whimsy, the old hand hacker tapping away at a nearby keyboard. He quietly adjusted his spectacles as his work brought the medical bench back prone with his rambunctious patient still fastened safely on top. Another quick command released the sturdy restraints and he observed the various other pieces of subsidiary medical equipment retreating to their usual spots within the technologically advanced observation room. "But as it pertains to your current condition it has been confirmed that your body has undergone a variety of drastic physiological adaptations. Nothing as outrageous as growing an extra limb or internal organ but. . ."

"But what, Brain Guy?" asked an impatient Stephanie, the young warrior understandably anxious with the goings on. "Come on, spill the dirt here!"

Noah Kuttler emitted a characteristic sigh as he moved to pluck his glasses off the bridge of his nose. "Well, I would be happy to if you weren't so persistent about interrupting me. Your blood pressure has been charted to be 70 over 40, the former number being the systolic pressure and the latter being the diastolic, of course. Your resting pulse rate seems to be hovering at just under 30 beats a minute and there is significant muscular development along your major arteries and a near 2 centimeter expansion of your lungs."

"Woah," the young Green Lantern replied. "So. . . so those are low numbers, right? Wait, does that mean I'm dying again? I don't wanna die again, C.C.!"

The Calculator calmed himself by extracting his handkerchief and using the light cloth to wipe away at some imaginary spots. "Lower blood pressure numbers tend to be a good thing, Stephanie. However, your abnormal results would normally indicate a subject in a deep coma or a death-like state but that is quite obviously not the case here. As it pertains to you, your body appears to be setting physical milestones that would considered to be nigh unto impossible as it concerns the limitations of the human body. Your heart is now capable of pumping and recycling blood in ridiculously impressive doses but yet the damage that would normally be wrought about by such exertion appears to be nonexistent as is evidenced by the drastically reduced pulse rate and the healthy musculature of your circulatory system."

The computer expert, and apparent authority on the human anatomy, gestured towards the litany of images that festooned the main monitor over his head as if the collage of photographs would answer all of Stephanie's unasked questions. "This provides a more than reasonable explanation as it comes how you were able to run a mile in less than three-and-a-half minutes and continue to perform the acrobatic feats that you failed to accomplish several years ago as is evidenced by the recordings of training exercises that Mister Wayne was so kind to record for my personal amusement."

Stephanie read over what she had gleaned from the results and frowned at what she found. Looking to acquire some more definitive proof of what was being said, she bent her knees slightly and noted that the flickering of pain that had used to sprout from the tendons surrounding the leg she had broken several years ago were nowhere to be found. Casting her body into a series of cartwheels, flips, and somersaults that could have served as a collage for the finest floor exercises in Olympic history, her mind pondered over how her body could do what it was doing even as her neurons sent forth the commands and muscle memories that enabled her to carry out the athletic feat. Crooking her legs once again after completing her cavorting with a perfect, double-footed landing, she effortlessly pushed herself through a series of knee raises while twisting her forearms to block imaginary strikes aimed to punish her head, neck, and shoulders. It was a defensive kata of her traditional brand of Hapkido performed in double time until the dozens of motions seemed to meld together to become one continuous action. Finally letting out a mildly exhausted breath as she spun to a stop, she took a moment to regard the stares being broadcast by her two examiners before shifting her attention to the emerald ring that lay on a stand by the medical bench. Plucking up her familiar prize, she placed the Oan-made magical instrument and felt the supernatural power flowing through her once again.

"Of course, I could hardly be classified as an expert in this realm of expertise," Noah explained, his specs now safely returned to their usual resting place. "That is why I have asked Miss Zatara to join us to see if she could offer some input upon this phenomenon."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the only reason why she's here," Stephanie quickly threw in before The Justice League's resident mystic could speak. The conscious gesture prompted Noah to unconscious duck away from the Green Lantern's attention while Zatanna supplied a smirk of her own.

"Well, judging from the evidence here I see no reason to disagree with what Lloyd had to say about it. Your connection with this ring has allowed you to siphon off some of its energy and store it for your own exclusive use."

"But. . . but shouldn't that not be happening?" Feeling a bit bushwhacked by Zatanna's unwavering belief, Stephanie briefly paced back and forth as her audience continued to wait patiently. "I mean, it's not like Hal or Kylie or Guy has done that and they've all had these things a lot longer than I have."

"Ah, but you use the ring differently than they do, Robin," reminded Zatanna. "An Oan power ring relies on the will and imagination of the creature that carries it. Hal uses it to make battering rams and boxing gloves and all sorts of other macho, muscley things since he's the big deal fighter pilot and Kyle draws from his love for comic books and video games. They both fight in a way that asks them to draw more from their thoughts while you ask more of your body."

"Which is doubtlessly a ways and means of subverting the physical and mental inadequacies you felt during your childhood and adolescence," The Calculator threw in, the hacker now quite convinced that his expertise was no longer required and thus leaving him certain that he could calmly fire off a parting shot before turning back to his other labors. And, judging from the wicked but ultimately silent glares from the two ladies within the catacombs, he may very well have been right.

"Whatever the reason may be, I wouldn't be surprised if a situation like this isn't as unusual as you think it is." Much like the man that Stephanie had come to idolize, Zatanna spoke with a mixture of determination and knowledge that the young Green Lantern couldn't help but be drawn to. "An Oan power ring may be an unusually potent source for supernatural power but it's still just that. It's a source and a source can usually be harnessed so long as the wielder has the ways and means to make it happen."

"But I wasn't trying to make that happen!" Stephanie brought the fingertips of her right hand to the side of her head. "Well, I mean, I guess I sort of did that during all that stuff with Sabbac," she allowed, the sudden recollection prompting her to try and avoid the knowing glances sent her way. "So what does this mean? Is this something unusual or not? I mean, should I even mention this when I go see The Corps?"

"Well, I've always come to imagine that returning from the dead would be considered an unusual circumstance. Still, I would imagine that nothing garners the faith of gods than withholding potentially positive information."

Zatanna swiftly twisted away from Robin's disbelief and turned to face the interloper. "Noah Kuttler, are you just going to sit back there and snipe or are you just going to admit that you're worried about the poor girl? Or do you want me to just go ahead and unveil how you were sitting on the edge of our bed and fretting over the medical results for an hour and a half while I snoozed the night away?"

A powerful display of hemming and hawing ensued as Noah turned about in his seat and Stephanie found her eyes being suddenly attracted to some apparently impressive portion of the limestone beneath her feet. Trying not to revel in the ensuing displays of awkward affection, Zatanna took several steps toward the computer chair before stooping down and placing a quick kiss on her boyfriend's forehead. "Because quite honestly? That part of you was a whole lot more charming to me than the nag from afar act."

"It is. . . just my belief that Stephanie's presence goes a long way to cementing the bonds that hold our group together," the information junkie stammered out. "And, given that this situation has proven to be the safest and most constructive environment that I have been a part of in quite some time, it would only seem wise to make efforts to preserve it."

Displaying the freakishly advanced agility that was gradually defining as something other than human, Stephanie was in front of Noah in an instant. Then, holding off an enthusiastic embrace until her victim could grow truly uncomfortable, Robin merely found it suffice to push up the bridge of her friend's spectacles so that they would once again be planted firmly on the bridge of Noah's nose.

"Nerd."

* * *

_Four years and four months from the present time_

"I look at this lineup of what's supposed to be the greatest heroes that the cosmos have to offer and I see that at least 70 percent of you are going to end up in the bone yard in three years time. Now if you want to avoid being that kind of a statistic then you'd be wise to listen to what your trainers have to tell you and use that info to the best of your ability. You may be capable of great things with those rings on your fingers but you better remember that every one of those instruments was passed down to you from somebody else. That somebody wanted to make a difference just like you want to do. They stood in a line-up just like you and learned the same rules that you're learnin' and probably broke a few of the rules you're already thinking about breaking so you can feel as full of pride as you want to be but you better be humble enough to see that you can be replaced."

Stephanie listened on with what she hoped to be a determined scowl as she resisted the urge to teeter back and forth on the balls of her feet to better reflect her boredom. Kilowog's opening statement to the new recruiting class was going a long way into punching a deep hole through the bubble of self-satisfaction that had been expanding ever since Alan Scott and Ganthet had gone through such lengths to prove that she was worthy of a chance to join The Green Lantern Corps. And while hindsight would later prove Kilowog's estimation to actually be an underestimation (the battle with The Sinestro Corps had not been kind), the overwhelming conglomeration of resolve and strength of character made it easy to ignore the words of the porcine instructor. Having doubtlessly anticipated this, the veteran Corps member let out a loud snort as he began to stalk down the array of recruits with a withering glare.

"You! The Perytonian!" Kilowog instantly bore his attention down on a crimson-skinned, bullish like creature whose wide nostrils instinctually flared even as he stood up straighter on his skinny legs. "Yeah, I saw you comin' in off the ship from your home world looking pretty confident about yourself! And why not, yeah? You're gonna become a Green Lantern! Known throughout the galaxies! All the songs! All the wine! All the ladies you can sink your teeth into, right? Well, you _got _that ring from Jatara Crys'tarling! One hell of a soldier who had more to give to the cosmos in her horn than you currently got in your whole body! She gave everything she had for a cause that was bigger than herself and now you're being asked to fill her shoes. Now I don't think you kin do it but it's my job to get you to the point where you can at least give it your best shot."

Kilowog stalked away as quickly as he had stopped in the first place, his measured steps taking him past Stephanie to whom he allowed a quick but cursory glance. "How about you, Representative of Sector 9227? You know enough about what you're about to step into to be just a little bit scared?"

Said representative, a sallow-skinned creature with six arms that were all lined with moss-covered scales, swallowed so thickly that Stephanie could hear it from 10 feet away. "No. . . no, sir!" came the loud reply, the oddly high-pitched twang of the organism's candor making it sound to Stephanie as if her universal translator was undergoing some feedback problems. "I am ready to train to learn my duties to the best of my ability, sir!"

Having heard that line and its many permutations before, Kilowog was well prepared to deliver a brief measure of respect before immediately turning away with a snort. "Gotta tell ya that I ain't a fan of liars either," the trainer grumbled out as he continued on down the line, the lack of his presence prompting the six-armed alien to let out a sigh of relief. "I know a lot of you have probably heard that you're not supposed to show any fear in order to be a Green Lantern but let me be the first to tell ya that you were listening to a boatload of crap! We are not here to eliminate fear! We are here to take those reservations you've got, the ones that some of you still aren't gonna be strong enough to admit to, and mold them into something that's a whole lot more useful. You learn how to use that ring, you take on your target, and you take whatever you think is gonna get in your way and use it to power you through."

Stephanie had always been prone to turn her attention away from matters that most people would feel compelled to focus on. It was thanks to this usually offensive habit that she was the first to spot the other Lantern that was making his way onto the enormously wide stone stage that stood in the middle of the stadium-like structure that Kilowog had brought the newfound recruits to. The humanoid sported yellowish-orange skin and what she thought to be a rather efficient face: small ears, a slightly pointed nose, and long cheekbones that put Stephanie into thinking that the alien might have spent a second or two inside a taffy pull. A series of markings lined both sides of his face, the meaning of them impossible for her to discern but still quite intriguing to her as the bald Lantern stopped at the center of the finely hewn battleground and waited patiently with his hands joined together behind his waist.

"And now I'm givin' all of ya an opportunity to see that you've still got a lot of work to do!" Kilowog gestured to the faraway Lantern and the other recruits soon joined Stephanie in paying attention to what they were being asked to look at. "This here is Colonel Graf Toren an' he's been kind enough to volunteer his services for this afternoon's exercises. He's a 14-year veteran who's gone toe-to-toe with some of the baddest monsters the cosmos has to offer and he's still standing. If you can meet him on an even level than I safely say that you can handle the vast majority of what your job is gonna ask of you so I'm gonna throw out a challenge and see who bites. Anybody who can stand up and volunteer to take on this guy and go even with 'im can cut their training time in half!"

Silence managed to reign for a sliver of a moment before there was a palpable buzz that seemed to run through the line of recruits. Taking the easy way out was probably something that didn't seem to palpable to the group of recruits that Kilowog had been asked to mold but the idea of making a name for themselves was doubtlessly appealing to the mass of willful individuals. Stephanie herself was already dealing with and forgoing the warnings of her deductive instincts. After all, she had fought crime since before she had the ring. She knew how to fight!

"Don't start getting shy, poozers!" Kilowog followed up with a roar, a pair of enormous molars briefly poking out from the overside and underside of his large maw. "Ya thought you were all full of courage and now nobody wants to step up? Come on! The Corps needs some good people in a hurry!"

The admission immediately spurred the courage of the class and soon at least a quarter of the recruits were raising their hand or voicing their desire to face the challenge. Stephanie somehow chose not to be part of the minority, ignoring the infectious anticipation of her inner child for favor of pragmatism. And, as the next 10 or 15 minutes passed, the former Robin found that she was proud of her decision. Each and every apprentice that stepped up to the stage, at least a dozen in number, were all abruptly defeated in a quiet yet emphatic manner. Each attack that was sent Toren's away was inevitably absorbed within a spider web like cocoon of energy, the apertures of it so small that the only soul that seemed to be able to navigate through it was Toren himself. Sometimes it would only take a simple counter shot while others would be able to actively avoid their fate by avoiding a flurry or two but nobody lasted for long and those who remained only looked on while Toren simply crossed his hands at his back with every victory.

Perhaps it was the slight, knowing lilts in Kilowog's delivery when he would tempt the increasingly reserved recruits into taking their shots or the infinitesimal smugness that eked from Toren but Stephanie suddenly found her mind's turbines turning. She thought about when Batman told her about Sisyphus and his eternal attempt to roll that rock up the hill. Shutting her eyes tight, she was on the verge of admonishing herself for taking such a childish route until her memories dragged her back to the catacombs beneath Wayne Manor. He was waiting for her to respond, to see what she had gleaned from the setting around her.

_Okay. So if somebody else keeps doing something wrong then you have to figure out what is happening to make what you're doing right. Okay, so Toren is always letting the student attack first. He puts up his weird little energy thingy. . . but how would I get through it. I mean, the others are putting all they can into their attacks and none of it has gotten through. . . _

_Wait a sec. . ._

It took some time for Stephanie to wade her way through the queue but Kilowog finally regarded her after Toren had placed another handful of victories under his significantly heavy belt. She slowly made her way towards the spot that the trainers had ordained for the students to start with Toren watching her all the while. As she arrived at her destination, she bent into the stance that Tim had taught her and looked on quietly as Toren provided the slightest smile.

"And here we have another Green Lantern from Earth. Perhaps this will make the tedium a mite more interesting."

The little wannabe hero wanted to desperately rise to the bait but the Green Lantern kept herself still even after Kilowog shouted for the match to start. She kept both eyes on Toren but the rest of her body was more focused on simply allowing all this newfound energy to flow through her. The magic coursed through her fingers until she felt the tips of her metatarsals humming, her leg muscles buzzing as if they were ready to hop high and out of control like a coiled string. She would later swear to have seen a hint of a smirk on the face of her opponent before Toren shot at her with a bolt of emerald energy that was faster than anything she had ever seen. Of course, the only way she could confirm that is because she saw the shot coming and leapt out of the way with her newfound reflexes.

Her fear wanted her to fly. Her excitement made her want to crack out a joke but she stayed silent and made sure to plant her feet to the ground. She couldn't get what she wanted out of this by straying too far into territory that she couldn't even begin to know how to navigate so Stephanie decided to stick close to something she knew. She knew how to get out of the line of fire. She had been taught how to bridge the gap between her target even in such a detrimental setting as a flat, featureless battlefield. She did her best to look at Toren's eyes and see where he would aim and she adjusted accordingly, her swift legs emboldened by a power that her limbs were still trying to understand. Then she was within five feet of the mesh of supernatural energy and her mind was still trying to work at how to break through a barrier that had yet to be scratched and, continuing to act on instinct, she summoned as much of her momentum as she could and struck it with the ball of her right foot.

The deafening _boooong _of Stephanie's magic meeting Toren's rang through the ears of the former as she was flung backward. Twisting her body out of instinct, the trainee transformed her out-of-control momentum into a body tuck that allowed her to come to a sliding stop with her feet still on the ground. Stephanie couldn't even begin to figure out how she had pulled off the feat when every intuition said that she should have fallen on her ass but she didn't have the time to ask or complain.

A similar thing could be said for Graf Toren as he fired another blast at his persistent pursuer. "Call off this animal, Kilowog!" he spat over the cacophony of the fracas, his spare hand rubbing furtively at his temple in response to the lingering neural feedback. "I won't be able to disable this one without hurting her!"

The second explosion of Stephanie's body meeting Toren's barrier coupled nicely with Kilowog's loud laughter that somehow managed to carry over the cheers of the trainees. "Ya sure you're really worried about the girl gettin' hurt? Come on, poozer! Give the old man what for!"

The wind was forced out of Stephanie's lungs as a pulse bolt grazed the left side of her abdomen but the adrenaline flowing through her made it impossible for her to go down. Whirling under the attack that followed, she instinctually plunged her right fist through one of the more sizable gaps within Toren's force barrier. She suddenly felt something wet splatter against her wrist and as she pulled herself free from the dissipating barricade she discovered that she was stained by blood that wasn't her own. As stunned by this turn of events as the soldier she had drawn blood from, Stephanie didn't start truly being confused by the situation until she discovered that a trio of energy claws, each about a ruler's length, had been extended from the roof of her wrist. The former Robin couldn't even begin to explain how she came up with the idea or how she had brought it into such an accomplished fruition but none of that would stop her as she proceeded to close in on her injured quarry.

Stephanie felt a fist jamming into her gut and wheezed as the impact forced the air out of her lungs, the energy surrounding Toren's fist at the moment of the strike causing her skin to sizzle. Stumbling backward, she managed to barely prepare for the pulse bolt of energy that followed and raised up her claw to deflect it aside. It suddenly struck her that every bit of Toren's tendencies, the barrier, the warding strike and all the energy bolts in between, all but screamed that he wanted to avoid a fight that was up close and personal so the fair-haired Gothamite quickly devoted herself to the task of keeping the combat close. The fists and feet that flew at her, powered as they were by Toren's Oan power ring, were by no means awkward but nothing that Stephanie couldn't avoid. Waiting until her trainer went high, she dipped beneath a right hook aimed for her head and swept her right foot out so that her shin would make some healthy contact with the back of Toren's left knee. The trainee clambered onto her foe with a spider-like scrabble, her calves bulging as she wrapped her legs tightly around Toren's torso as she prepared to ask for submission lest she be forced to deal a dangerous blow.

And that was the noteworthy point when the wheels tumbled off the metaphorical track. For you see, this was the time when Graf Toren chose to attempt to escape his predicament by taking flight with all the speed he could muster. The plan was a near success as the sudden jolt of motion threw off Stephanie's grip to the point where she had to desperately scramble for any portion of her opponent that she could get a hand on. Her right hand ended up finding Toren's waist and before she could steady herself with her left hand she had accidentally pulled down her opponent's regulation trousers so that she was greeted with the sight of a fairly muscular and pale-yellow backside. Naturally distracted by such an unusual happenstance, the former Robin and Spoiler was once again forced to surrender to instinct as the Karazian monk came to a sudden, crashing stop and she was coerced into looking for a way to steady her sudden plummet. This, in turn, led to Stephanie's left hand getting caught in Toren's underwear in such a fashion, that when she skidded forward, left the honored Green Lantern to emit a high pitched squeal as his most personal physical region was inadvertently attacked in a manner that certainly did not befit a creature that had saved the lives of millions with his bravery and courage under fire.

This incident, thanks to the ever-active storytelling tendencies of young soldiers, would soon be known as The Wedgie Heard 'Round the World.

* * *

"At the risk of sounding preachy, I have to confess that I didn't expect the two of us to be working together."

Graf Toren lifted his head up and his thoughts away from his reveries and greeted Stephanie with a simple nod. Having suffered from more than a fair share of ribbing for his religious beliefs, the monk turned Green Lantern was not about to be groused by such a simple rib. "You are far too reluctant to dismiss the past, Stephanie Brown," he replied with his usual deep and tranquil cadence. "There are far worse punishments to be had for displaying hubris upon the battlefield. Given your own penchant and reputation for seeking the center of a conflict, I would believe that you would know this first hand."

"Hey, I can't help it if the spotlight loves me," Stephanie said brightly, the slight chiding encouraging her. "Still, I also wanted to make sure that I took some time out to thank you for being so quick to our defenses when Sinestro came around. And, yeah, I know that you're probably just going to say 'it was my duty' or something like that but I heard that you were the first to really step up and tell the Guardians to get the Corps involved in all of that. My planet in general and myself in particular owe you a debt of gratitude."

Toren seemed to have gotten done with waving away the first set of kind words and he briefly looked down to the floor of the shuttle bay, the unusual markings that lined the sides of his yellowish-orange face briefly catching the overhead lights. As the silence lingered, Stephanie briefly remembered Kyle Rayner telling her that Toren had also been one of the first defenders of Hal Jordan upon his highly controversial return to The Green Lantern Corps. A quite vocal supporter, in fact, if her fellow Earthling's words were legitimate and Stephanie suddenly guessed that her current commanding officer was not the type to speak out until he was quite certain that his words would hit their mark.

_Almost have to sympathize with the poor bastard_, Stephanie thought as a grin eked onto her lips. "Okay, that's enough with the embarrassing personal stuff. So what are your thoughts on who we're trying to track down?"

The Karazian let out a thick, deep breath. "While we may know little of what has allowed him to remain an active fugitive, Leokar Kurkosaw has long proven himself to be a dangerous creature. His emotions may have gotten the better of him on Karbarra but a pragmatist like Sinestro would not have placed a loose cannon in such a valuable position if he did not have some qualities to make up for it. Scherazade was the source of the rehabilitation of many criminals and served as a reliable prison for others and many people attributed Kurkosaw's work for all of it, both before and after the passing of his late wife."

"Oh, please don't get started on that whole 'tragic past' angle that Guy Gardner was feeding me back during the occupation," Stephanie butted in without bothering to hide her derisive snort. "I mean, yeah, the guy lost his wife to a prison riot but that shouldn't ever be the be all and end all for how we end up and it's definitely not an excuse for all the nightmares that the bastard put upon a whole bunch of people."

"But what if coming to such an understanding is the only way to quell the beast?" asked Toren, the religious humanoid looking quite undeterred. "Other Green Lanterns have been put to the task of bringing Kurkosaw into custody, creatures with the same powers as our own, and yet they have fallen."

"And that's why they're sending in the big guns. And, believe me, talk like this is getting me really intrigued with the idea of getting that Dumbo-looking bastard on the business end of my claws."

Toren quickly raised his right hand with the back of it facing Stephanie. The younger Lantern wasted a fraction of a second wondering if a gesture of hostility was soon to come before she spotted a fellow Green Lantern approaching from the corner of her eye. There was a thin degree of nervousness that seemed to trickle from the creature's countenance, his black fur and long snout flat against his face as he awaited acknowledgment.

"Sir, I have completed the preparations for the transport shuttle. The medical bays are fully stocked and we are ready to depart on your order."

"You have my thanks, Private Orderlyn," Toren softly replied. "This is your first mission as a member of The Corps, is it not? May the blessings of Keron watch over you."

Orderlyn, who appeared to Stephanie like he was one of Grodd's distant cousins, replied to Toren's words with a thankful nod before turning and returning to his duties with a quick flick of his tail. There was a hint of a moment where Stephanie couldn't help but sneer at the thought of having to deal with a rookie before her hypocrisy got the better of her and she let out a sigh of her own.

"Okay. I'll just come out and say that I'm not really feeling too good about this."

Seated as he was on a modest work bench, Toren straightened up slightly and looked up at Stephanie as if he was finally paying attention to her. "Because of what you believe the Guardians will reveal? Kilowog informed me of your request to learn more of how the power of your ring may be affecting your physiology."

"Of course he did," Stephanie huffed back, the current Gotham-based Robin simultaneously thanking and deriding Kilowog for his frankness. "Look, this isn't going to affect what I'm capable of doing against Kurkosaw on the battlefield. It's just something that's been on the back burner for a while now and I was just looking for some answers."

"One would have presumed that you would have searched for them sooner." The faithful assurance within Toren's delivery managed to entice Stephanie's irritation to the point where she had to fight down the urge to snap back. "You may have been unaware of it at the time but Rayner was not the only Lantern assigned to retrieve you after the conclusion of your first mission. It was rather clear that Sinestro had wanted you to remain alive."

Now it was Stephanie's turn to bring her attention to where Toren could not find her. "And I'm guessing that you want to ask the same question that he wants to ask? Do I think that I'm something that the Guardians should have gotten rid of after Katina?" The Green Lantern made certain to look Toren straight in his unwavering eyes. "I've never really known and I still don't really care. I don't. . . even really care that much about being a Lantern."

"But surely you care about something, Stephanie Brown? A creature that searches for the battlefield as ardently as you do either has too much or too little to live for and you ask too many questions to be the latter. Why not simply work to traverse the path that the fates have in store for you?"

"Because I've seen what might be at the end of the path and I don't want some of those things to happen." Suddenly weary of having to stand, Stephanie simply sat on the floor. "And, believe me, I've already heard enough people give me the whole spiel about fear and desire lead to the dark side but I've never been the religious type, Toren. I want to be able to control more of what I'm going up against instead of just letting some mystical whozit decide it for me."

"Stephanie, one of the privileges of being a thinking creature is that we have a multitude of ways in which we may draw inspiration. Sinestro saw comfort through the past. He examined history and the successes and failures that are to be discovered and employed that information to guide him down his own path. Perhaps it was your obsession with the present and the future that prompted the Korugarian to mark you as an equal?"

"Well, I guess that's not anything that I can worry about now. Since I can't worry too much about something if I don't have enough of the answers then I'll just focus on the giant elephant guy. I mean, if I'm here to play the bully then I might as well start to act the part."

Toren examined his fellow Lantern once again with a kindler glint in his eyes than the last time before shaking his hairless head to and fro. "Well, it is as I have already said, Miss Brown. Kurkosaw is somehow managing to evade apprehension despite the fact that the power wielded by those responsible for bringing him in should far eclipse that of his own. There is obviously something unseemly at work here and the Guardians have asked the both of us to combine our skills to determine what that may be."

"So I provide the offense with all my claws and laser beams and you do all that spiderweb hoodoo that you do." Gaining confidence from stepping back into a more comfortable realm of expertise, Stephanie bobbed her head as she started to put everything together. "Of course, that could also mean that The Guardians may be setting us up to be targets in order to decide whether or not they should devote more of their energy to this."

"Yes, that thought had crossed my mind as well," Toren confessed, a hard frown putting pressure on the scales that surrounded his lips. "The Corps has been desperately attempting to regain their numbers since the attack staged by Sinestro's army and gambits such as these have become a bit of a necessity in order to offer the time required to train the large influx of new recruits."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean that I have to like it," Stephanie noted with a harrumph. "Gee, you'd think that they would treat a potential 'chosen one' with a little more tender, loving care."

"Ah, but were you not just proclaiming that you had no desire for fated designations? Perhaps The Guardians are choosing to give you the kindness of proving that you are expendable after all."

"I never said that I didn't mind fated designations! I just want it so that it will always favor me." The blatant mockery of Stephanie's pretense drew laughter from both parties and that proved to be enough to return Stephanie to her feet. "All right. Tired of being whiny. Ready to be an ass kicker. Still, I am kind of curious to see what you think of whatever trick Kurkosaw has up his sleeve."

Toren stood as well while giving his fellow Lantern a discerning nod. "It is just as I have said, Miss Brown. We are empowered by that which defines us. If we continue to discover what delineates our mutual foe then I imagine that we will soon find what strengthens him."

* * *

_Four years and two months before the present time_

This wasn't the first time that Stephanie had come to hate her newfound optimistic reputation. Then again, this also wasn't the first time that her mentor had knocked her on her ass. Of course, the painful fact that she had frequently undergone such humiliation at the hands of Cassandra Cain, Timothy Drake and even Bruce Wayne himself should have been something that would have prepared her for this frequent moment but the figure standing over her continued to provide something new. While those past tutors would look down upon her with a pity that she would grow to hate, that reflection of the knowledge that the people she cared for did not expect anything better out of her, this one kept his head measured and even with the imaginary horizon. Kilowog expected her to rise up and meet him as his equal and that was enough to piss her off to the point where she quickly scrambled back to her feet.

The silent signal to proceed came and went and soon the two Green Lanterns were waging war in the 30 by 30 foot training grounds that had been specially crafted to serve as the setting for Kilowog's private training sessions. Such specific circumstances were usually reserved for members of the Corps that were rehabilitating from grievous injuries but the infamy that the young Earthling had garnered from the fight against Toren and the circumstances in which she received her ring eventually made the relocation a near necessity. Stephanie had become a bit of a celebrity, at least enough to arouse attention that Kilowog had tired of dealing with, and thus the experienced drill sergeant had eventually implored his superiors to switch things up a bit. This had been where Kilowog had pressed his newest charge to better employ her fast reflexes and sound instincts to pick a battle style that was more focused on anticipation and countering rather than outright striking. It was where Stephanie had taken her once rudimentary knowledge of Hapkido and combined it with Kilowog's expertise on the Bolivaxian art of Soresu and honed it into her own kind of style through dozens of hours of intensive training.

But Kilowog could still kick her ass. At this point it was becoming an inevitability as powerful as the sun setting in the west or the fact that her Chicago Cubs would leave her bitter and disappointed as the month of October rolled around.

"Why don't you employ your powers in a more characteristic manner?" asked Kilowog, his question delivered with the same bluntness as the jab to the center of Stephanie's forehead that put her back on the ground after another short exchange. "I mean, it may be workin' for ya now but this kind of violence don't really guarantee a long, healthy life."

Stephanie concentrated a portion of her eldritch energy into her heels so that she could spring forward from a seated position. Already defying physics enough as she was, the younger of the two Lanterns pitched her body into a somersault that allowed her to take a slash at the back of Kilowog's neck with the claws on her right hand. Missing by inches, she spun on the balls of her feet with a turning lash of her left hand but soon found her wrist caught within her trainer's unyielding grip.

"I've been looking into your history, littlest poozer," Kilowog mentioned while mercifully allowing Stephanie to leap free. "I saw that you ran with The Batman but you did something pretty nasty on the way to takin' your dirt nap, didn't ya? Ended up bein' responsible for some kind of tribal war that killed a whole bunch of innocent people and I can't imagine that would sit too well for the people I'm guessin' that your trying to get in the good graces of."

The attack that came Kilowog's way was even faster and more disorganized than the last and the pink-skinned combat expert had no trouble reading the movements and weaving out of the way with time to spare. Choosing to pick his spot in the whirlwind of energy blades and bluster, Kilowog gave Stephanie just enough room to tempt her into leaping forward with a two-handed slash that allowed him the time to twist around and grab Stephanie by the back of her neck as she came back down. Stooping as he clamped his right arm around the Earthling's arms and waist, he hefted his opponent into a perfect binding hold that would have allowed him to snap his student's neck and spine with a fraction of effort. He chose not to of course, preferring instead to compress his stout neck so that his lipless maw was by Stephanie's right ear.

"Bein' a Green Lantern ain't gonna convince your daddy to come back home. It's not gonna get your mom off whatever poisons she puts into her body to block the pain away. You are privileged to have another lease on life so maybe you shouldn't be so quick to go back to doin' the things that made you a failure in the first place."

It was one of the few moments where Kilowog would be hesitant to confessing to his superiors. Maybe it was the burgeoning affection he had gained for the faulty but spirited human that he had taken under his wing but the cause of it was inconsequential in comparison to the glow that surrounded Stephanie Brown as she forced herself from the hold. What had once been a bright emerald aura was now infected with wisps of blood red that concentrated about her lower arms and the bridge of her mouth. The trainer was forced to accept the eventuality, at least in the short term, as a consequence of the battlefield thanks to the matter that Stephanie's flurry of attacks was coming dangerously close to pushing through his agile defenses. It was only a matter of time before the veteran managed to regain the upper hand but the fact remained that it shouldn't have taken as long as it had. Whatever was empowering Stephanie, and Kilowog had a damn certain opinion towards what that might be, had augmented her strength and speed to an impressive degree that was blunted by a drastic downturn in focus and concentration.

So much so that Kilowog decided to take what could have been considered to be a risky chance. Taking hold of his newfound role, the instructor momentarily slowed his evasive tactics so that one of the blades along Stephanie's right hand could slice across and through the first inch or so of the front of his right leg. He certainly could have maintained his footing but he allowed momentum to take hold as he fell on his back, his purplish-black blood already tickling the roof of his knee as he fell to the ground. Stephanie was on him in an instant, the crimson-eyed supernatural warrior instantly poised to dig her claws into Kilowog's defenseless heart; defenseless because Kilowog made no effort to stop her.

Stephanie's eyes faded back to their normal pale blue in less than a second, her mind already reeling from the effort to bring her back to reality. Getting back on her shaky legs, she managed to make it a few steps before she fell back down on her posterior. "I could have killed you," she mumbled, the realization obviously more for herself than for her potential victim.

"Not like that you couldn't," Kilowog replied, his voice far less horror-stricken and a hint more amused. "The Oan power ring doesn't allow its wielder to kill. Of course, that doesn't mean that the creature that holds it still doesn't have the capacity to do so."

The former Robin had once thought that she'd have gotten used to the collapse of one of her childhood dreams but it still didn't seem to take. "So you? Have you. . ."

"Killed? Of course I have." The ease with which Kilowog had confessed the sin made Stephanie quick to startle.

"But Green Lantern rings don't allow you to kill!"

"Since when did anyone ever need a bauble to kill?" Kilowog briefly raised himself back to his full height before taking several strides forward and hunkering down next to his student. "Of course, it's not like I'm lookin' to start trouble. Sometimes somebody wants to start trouble themselves and the Corps sends someone like me to deal with it."

It was another one of those moments when Stephanie didn't want to feel dumbfounded but she ended up falling into the trap anyway. "Sorry. I mean, I know I shouldn't be all surprised. It's just that, well, maybe I've just been drilled into thinking that killing isn't the answer."

"Yes, I have been forced to hear the legend of The Batman ad nauseam from no less than The Guardians themselves," Kilowog replied with a snort. "The Batman may be a champion, both on your world and in the cosmos beyond, but we are soldiers. We are those that pull the craft that the heroes command. The ring on your finger may provide you with power and acclaim but it will also force you to find focus in what will be expected of you. Your duty."

Stephanie twisted her lips at this, inevitably frowning in thought. "And what if the big, angry critter that just tried to kill you tries to get in the way?"

Kilowog let out a bark of a laugh, his mammoth right hand clapping down on Stephanie's shoulder and bicep.

"Well, we're here to see if we can keep that in line."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

I am writing this in the northeast corner of Mississippi and trapped with the thought that I have nothing to say. It's pretty safe to say that this is a temporary malady that will be resolved in a matter of time but I nevertheless find this happenstance a little bit disconcerting. Has my life become an avenue where thought is absent and routine has become order? Has the contentment gained from a worthwhile existence eliminated my need or desire to embrace the creative instincts that empowered me in the past.

Or maybe I'm still peeved that the Memphis Grizzlies lost. It could be either or really. Thanks to everyone who has provided feedback and support throughout the last six years of this project. It may not be going at the same pace that a lot of you preferred but it's going to keep going. Ain't no gettin' off this train we've gotten on!

* * *

_Issue #140 Preview_

Stephanie and Graf Toren may be on their way to hunt down Leokar Kurkosaw but there are still many other encounters that our young heroine must carry through. There is an illustrator that becomes a hero, a murderer that becomes a savior, a savior that becomes a murderer, and a crying orphan who becomes the greatest hero that Stephanie will ever know. However, none of these souls will be responsible for the moment that sharpens a former crying bird into the emerald light she is in the present time. To find out what that may be then you may very well have to tune in for the next installment of _The Misfits_: When Stephanie Grows Up. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	140. When Stephanie Grows Up

Issue #140

When Stephanie Grows Up

_Wayne Manor – Day Room - Two years and two months before the present time_

Wally West had never thought that the act of checking for wet spots on diapers would become as casual of an instinct as sliding out of the way of a bullet. Still, the man dubbed in many media circles as The Fastest Man Alive felt no qualms with explaining away his adapted ability with his desire to be a responsible father (and, as Roy pointed out, at least he wasn't checking other people's babies and their statuses of their respective Poop Zones). Adjusting to the ease with which his family took to the home Gotham's dark knight would just serve as another skill to learn, another curve ball in his own life's at-bat one might say. It was a fortuitous circumstance to be sure, particularly given that the desire to fulfill the wish of his Uncle Barry to join forces with the cranky vigilante was already beginning to slake in strength, but a simple look into Linda's calm countenance or his children's sleeping faces still provided the overriding persuasion. If he was going to a fail as a father then he was going to do so while doing everything he could think of to be a success. He had chosen to fight for who he loved even if the rest of the world regarded him as someone who specialized in running away.

"Do you have any idea how much private schools cost in Gotham?"

Of course, that wasn't going to stop him from the occasional grouse. And, as was often the case, his lady love was there to meet him off at the pass.

"I'm sure that my new salary can cover it," Linda replied, her voice several notches softer than her husband's as she busied herself with smoothing out her daughter's blanket so that she could snooze more peacefully. "Besides, isn't Roy already looking into putting Lian into that special school that Bruce's understudy mentioned? If it works for her than I can't imagine why it won't work for us too."

Wally rolled his eyes at what wasn't said. "So we're really thinking that this is going to be our home for the long term? And by 'we' I mean you make the decision despite what I say because I am completely head over heels in love with you?"

Appeased by the finely crafted neutrality, Linda smirked at the father of her children while sliding the tip of her right ring finger down Wally's nose. "Well, I just can't see what's wrong with taking up a couple of spaces in a 132-room mansion. I mean, this _is _coming from someone who had to share their childhood bedroom with four siblings. And I didn't have an entire dimension that I could run around in when I wanted to get away."

"Hey. That wasn't until I was in my late teens," Wally reminded his chuckling bride while slipping in for a quick kiss to Linda's nose. Then, tiring of the charade, he turned to glance at the expansive entryway. "You coming in here or not, Miss Bossypants?"

Knowing that she wasn't about to outrun her inquisitor, Stephanie hesitantly poked her head from the corner she had been hiding in for the last minute or so. From her lightly clenched teeth to her hesitant smile and steps, the young Green Lantern was displaying far more nervousness than the speedster had ever seen from her, before or after the Green Lantern powers, and Wally was surprised when he found himself wondering what was wrong.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't meaning to interrupt or anything. I mean, I wasn't even planning on _staying _but I guess I just saw all of you hanging out together."

The Flash smiled gently as he put up a relenting palm, the pieces of the puzzle already beginning to be put together. "Please, Robin. I mean, you guys seem to specialize in epic speeches but we don't need one here. Besides, I wanted to thank you for being straight with me about what's going on here and what you guys expect out of me. And, if it makes you feel better, I want to tell you that I'm not planning on betraying Bruce or abandoning this team."

Stephanie's grin was slight and still cautious, the response inspiring Wally to question the matter further. "Well, maybe I was a little too harsh too," the fair-haired Gothamite admitted. "Still. . . y'know, you were kind of being really rude and we've already got Batsie around here for that."

Wally offered back a soft laugh but it was his wife that managed to put the final solution into play.

"Roy told me that you were a big fan of children, Stephanie. Would you like to come closer and take a look?"

The jolt of animation on Stephanie's face was so potent that she couldn't quite hide it all even as she did her best to maintain what she hoped to be a Batman-like poker face. The betraying flicker prompted Wally to turn and shoot an inquisitive eyebrow at his wife, the former Justice Leaguer quite confident that Roy had told Linda no such thing. The fact that Linda only provided a prim smile in return before stooping down towards one of the nearby carriages all but confirmed that his guess was correct and he braced to accept whatever consequences that were to follow. This proved to be a wise decision, both figuratively and literally, given that he soon came quite close to being bowled over as Robin eagerly accepted the unspoken invitation. He became understandably concerned by all the sudden excitement but as he looked on quietly, paying close attention to how the lively woman shifted between shock and stillness as Linda handed her their youngest child, the apprehension once again gave way to curiosity. It was as if the most boisterous of Batman's clan was an animal that had just been offered a privilege that it had been punished for accepting once before.

Now devotedly interested toward seeing the progression of the next sequence of events, The Flash put his patience to the limits as he watched Stephanie gently rock Jai back and forth in her arms. A soft, barely audible hum slipped from the Green Lantern's lips, the sound so subdued that Wally wondered if the girl even knew she was doing it. However, that thought turned to instinctive apprehension as the snoozing infant began to stir, his watery black eyes slowly prying open as his young mind tried to suss out the most suitable response for being awakened from a peaceful slumber. The snivels and high-pitched hitched breaths were quick to follow but Wally noticed that Linda didn't move an inch so he decided to do the same. He continued to look on as Stephanie registered the potential problem point and briefly widened her eyes in alarm before her face broke out into a placatory smile.

"Ooh, don't cry, little peanut. Here. Here! How about a light show?"

Wally edged back an inch as the ring on Stephanie's finger began to emit a familiar hum. However, rather than being greeted by the elaborate images and creative constructs that he had been used to seeing from Kyle, he was greeted by a simple spattering of tiny, twirling lights that seemed to dance in front of his child's face. Knowing how easily excitable his youngest child tended to be, the young father wasn't surprised in the least as Jai cooed and clamored to be let down so that he could personally get a closer look at the display. Watching his child toddle about on his stumpy legs, he did his best to hide a wide smile as Stephanie lowered her little lighting exhibition so that the sparkles could easily breeze by his child's happily outstretched fingerprints. Then, fearing the most likely consequence of the endearing action, he turned to his left and looked into the other crib where Iris was still sleeping peacefully, a wisp of red hair poking out from the rim of her tiny Central City Royals ball cap.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that we've found ourselves a babysitter."

Wally turned swiftly back to Linda and he registered the hushing admonishment already on the tip of his wife's tongue but that was when he noticed Stephanie's reaction out of the corner of his eyes. The enthusiastic fervor that had swept over him like a tidal wave when Robin had sternly admonished him for being what she thought to be a lackluster father had made itself present once again but in a more palatable manner this time. Looking at the unabashed hopefulness in the young woman's pale-blue eyes, even he couldn't muster the pessimism to voice a complaint.

* * *

_Present_

Stephanie had been feeling her ability to put words to her running thoughts slipping away from the moment they had made their way into what Toren had dubbed Pepmar, the most bustling public marketplace in all of Fortuna. Though the commercial capital of the Farlyl Nebula was a haven where merchants throughout the cosmos bought and sold goods in order to take advantage of the vast network of navigable trade routes, the vast majority of the transactions took place in private facilities headed by commercial conglomerates and intergalactic trade unions. What Pepmar offered was an opportunity for free enterprise in its undiluted form, a chance for the workers who toiled and spent their professional lives harvesting materials, assembling manufacturing and mining equipment, and performing the actual service part of the galactic service industry to peddle goods of their own design. The whole thing seemed like something that had been plucked out from a different time but it was clearly obvious that "different" was the operating word here as creatures of all shapes, sizes, and planets of origin milled about as buyers, sellers, or both. There was a Skrullian female, the luster of her scaled, emerald skin accentuated by a full-length white dress with purple trim and a hem that nearly brushed against the ground, discussing the proper price of what appeared to be some kind of seed-like substance to a two-headed brute with blue skin that ran along his faces so tightly that it creased outward to compensate for his pointed skulls. The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns could only imagine the variety of dialects and languages being thrown about even as her ring's universal translator somehow managed to pick out the scraps and formulate it into the gossip and spats that flowed through her ears.

"Such a history to have in so short of a career! To have personally fought so many noteworthy war criminals like Sinestro and Parallax. . . even The Anti-Monitor. I can hardly begin to imagine what all of that must have felt like."

It took a moment for Stephanie to break through the sounds of the surrounding distractions but she eventually realized that somebody was speaking directly to her. Turning her head a bit to the right, she caught the persistent Private Orderlyn diligently awaiting her reply, his slanted eyes tingling with apparent excitement.

"Well, um, it wasn't like I was looking to pick fights with any of them. I mean, all the stuff that happened to me pretty much happened because I was on the job." Clearly not used to formulating the more mature and reserved half of a conversation, Stephanie found herself putting quite a bit of effort into forming her words. "Also. . . I don't think we really should be talking about how we're Green Lanterns when we're trying to be undercover."

"Oh, I apologize, Lieutenant Brown," Orderlynreplied, the blotches of purple skin visible through his raven fur turning pink from his discomfiture. "Thank you very much for updating me on proper protocol."

_Oh, the irony is far too much for me, _Stephanie mused to herself even as she gave a soft salute to her subordinate before zeroing in on one presence in particular. Finding Toren through the maze of surrounding life signatures was nothing thanks to the power of her ring and she soon closed in on the veteran Lantern and greeted both him and the two soldiers that stood with him, one on either side. "Have you gotten any news from your side of the story?"

Toren shook his head but the glint his eyes suggested something different. "The only lead that seems remotely palatable lies down at the end of a winding trail. There's a metallurgy shop owned by a Fortunian named Karag Oksis and it is said that he specialized in dealing with off-world materials used for the construction of jewelry and such. Unfortunately, my soldiers were unable to acquire any information through the standard chapters of protocol."

Stephanie nodded slowly, her lips quirking in a manner that looked like she was getting ready to sneeze. "So we're dealing with a dry well here?"

"Without having a better way of putting it, yes," Toren replied, his own soldiers offering some odd moments of confusion before they appeared to catch up and reach the same page. "We will be reconvening at the rendezvous point as soon as everyone has concluded their business."

Robin found herself unable to hide her opportunistic smirk. "Well, if we're waiting on someone then I don't see any harm in having another look around."

There were keen glints in the eyes of Toren's subordinates now, the both of them having obviously gotten wind of Stephanie's infamous reputation. The Earthling nearly wrote the whole thing off as a joint understanding but that belief was soon mucked up.

"Well, would it be all right if I joined you, Lieutenant Brown? That is, of course, if the commanding officer doesn't mind."

It was as if the wheels in Toren's cerebral cortex had hit an impediment that wasn't quite enough to bring everything to a lurching stop but could have if the matter was allowed to stay where it is. Fortunately for her commanding officer, Stephanie was already at the ready with an upward tilt of her eyebrows.

"Well, I guess I wouldn't mind that, Orderlyn. I mean, now's just as good of a time as anybody to give a rookie some of the ins and outs, right?"

To the credit of her other comrades, Stephanie's ears only took in some murmuring of chuckles even as she weathered the inquisitive stare of the Kazarian monk. Her eyes still well away from the attention of her unexpected comrade, the Gothamite tried her best not to look too surprised when Toren gave a quiet nod of assent before walking past the two soldiers who were now arranged to be the last ones left behind. The other Lanters followed their leader in a casual but still unified step, some of their stares reserved for respect towards what she had volunteered to do while what wasn't was given to the rookie that was apparently quite willing to be dragged along for the ride. Not waiting until her comrades could get out of her line of sight, Stephanie began to stroll forward through the throng of merchants and customers. It wasn't the slightest bit of a problem for her to follow the directions Toren had given to her through the unique connection that could be made between one Oan power ring and the other, the only mildly successful impediment being a purple-scaled, 10 foot tall, six-armed gargantuan of a humanoid who nearly crashed into her as she and Orderlynturned a blind corner. The creature, burdened as he was by a pile of goods strapped to his back that appeared to be about the size of a hatchback car, apologized profusely with the claim that he had been blinded by the twin setting suns and Stephanie quickly accepted the explanation before continuing to proceed onward to her primary purpose.

"Okay. This is me giving you an order." Stephanie didn't have to wait even a moment to garner Orderlyn's attention since it was clear that he had been waiting for her to speak. "Stay outside and examine the grounds and don't come in unless you hear me say so."

Not feeling the need to wait for a direct reply, Stephanie spent several minutes carefully ambling through her environs until she came to a stall that dominated a central hub on the southeastern corner of the marketplace. The sternly built structure was draped with heavy amethyst and cerulean coverlets, the long and sturdy silken fabrics designed to buffer the tenacity of the summer winds that ran through the souk in the long mornings and afternoons. However, the evidence had already shifted Stephanie's attitude away from the charm of a faraway adventure and her countenance shifted right along with it. Her languid smile gave way for something brighter, chirpier, and more blatantly prosaic. She cast her mind back to her many encounters with dizzy blonde debutantes and reality show starlets and put together all the information she had gathered, the young champion emulating what she collected and broadcasted it to the awaiting clerk with a cautious but overly bright smile.

"Hi. I've been looking for a really cute bracelet for a niece and a couple people told me that this was the best place to find it," she began with a faint trace of nervous sounding laughter. "Is there any chance that someone here can help me?"

The alien across the counter gave Stephanie a smile that was lined with crocodile-like teeth and a squint of his black eyes. From his exquisitely tailored black suit, his brownish-green skin, and the scarring that ran along the left side of his jaw and stretched downward until it was covered by his collar, every physical facet was a match for the profile of Karag Oksis. "Then perhaps your informants were also aware that the answer to that would depend on how much money you're willing to spend," the jeweler replied, his tone deep and raspy but still having its own form of dignity. "Each item here on display was constructed through my painstaking craftsmanship and my honor prohibits me from giving away these treasures without receiving a worthy sum in exchange."

"Oh, well, I don't really know a whole lot about this stuff." Stephanie's bashful chuckle and the fluster in how she tucked her hair back with her right hand helped sizzle the deal, so much so that Oksis calmly sauntered away from a patron that was still examining some necklaces within an ornate glass case. "I mean, normally I'd just sweep right in and buy what I want and a few extra things just to save for a rainy day. Still, I want this one to be special, y'know?"

Oksis grinned politely, the spider so focused on drawing the fly into his web that he was willing to venture outside what he didn't know to be his territory. "So I would presume that money would be no object?"

Already tiring of the game, Stephanie waited until Oksis was within the reach of her arm and pulled him in with an angry yank of her left hand. She let the momentum carry the merchant's jaw until it slammed into the base of her forehead, the loud _crack _startling the handful of customers and inspiring some to leave while others stood deathly still. Not caring which option those around her chose, Stephanie calmly jerked the peddler back so that her right fist could slide underneath the victim's chin with enough room so that Oksis could feel the tickling of her energy claws against his extended snout.

"Yes, I'd say that this has nothing to do with money as far as I'm concerned, binky boy."

* * *

_Gotham – Four years and ten months before the present time_

Stephanie would have pinched herself if she hadn't been reeling from being punched in the face. Still, the brief flurry of colorful spots that swam in front of her eyes seemed to coincide nicely with the continuous barrage of neurological fireworks that seemed to have been popping all around her for the past several weeks. The circumstances may still have been suspicious and the activities themselves may not have been everything that she dreamed them up to be but the fact remained that she was living the dream. She didn't have to ride her bike all the way to the western edge of Gotham, she wasn't the one who wasn't allowed in The Batcave and she wasn't the girlfriend along for the ride. She was it.

_I am Robin. I'm one half of The Dynamic Duo. It's the childhood dream that anyone in their right mind should have (as far as I'm concerned) and it's mine, mine, ALL MINE!_

In her defense, the former Spoiler usually wouldn't have allowed herself to revel in the fruits of her persistence in most circumstances. The fact was that she was still so unconsciously determined not to screw this miracle up that she had taken to criticizing and judging every action she made and every reaction that her taskmaster sent her way. She had egged Alfred into allowing her to have an extra half-hour in the training room after Bruce went to bed. She was choosing her words with so much scrutiny, relentlessly picking out and removing whatever could have been taken to be insulting or unnecessary, to the extent that she hadn't even noticed Batman occasionally glancing her way expecting something more. In fact, it would be years before she realized that he was waiting on her to say something, to be the noisy braggart that she was comfortable being so that the both of them would be comfortable with what had to be a tricky transition. But, as fate would have it, neither Batman nor Robin was equipped with the knowledge to push that motion forward. Instead they continued on with whittling away at the pathetic remainders of Falcone's troops that had been housed in what had once been a National Guard armory before the mob boss had bought up the abandoned property to use as a supply storehouse for both his legal and illegal business transactions.

It didn't matter that Falcone's funds were apparently so insufficient that the street soldiers didn't even have guns to reach for. Even Stephanie realized that they were barely organized, running on the edge of panic, and not a one of them had the ability to get in any successful offense without their superior numbers or a blind stroke of luck. The whole thing was a matter that Stephanie herself could have cleaned up on her own even before the upgrade in technical toys and training that had been made available to her but that was sooooo not the issue. She was Robin. When Batman told Robin to do this or punch that or that a good job was done, she was the one he was talking to.

_So. . . fucking. . . cool._

"Someone should volunteer to give me the information I'm looking for," Batman suggested with a growl to the remaining participants of the quieting battlefield, his deep delivery startling Robin out of her efforts at trying to be violent and stupendous. Bringing her senses back to the task of examining her surroundings, she followed the sound of The Dark Knight's voice and found that the cowled master detective had at least a half-dozen opponents either restrained or left sprawled about the floor of the factory in a decidedly unconscious state. Remembering the instructions she had been given before they had snuck their way into the roof of the complex, Robin reached into a pocket of her utility belt and pulled out a collection of hard plastic zip ties that she used to dutifully confine the wrists of the perpetrators. After her third successful detaining without any sense of struggling from her victims, she found her job completed and turned to get a closer look at Batman's subject of interest. As she came closer, the newest recruit to The Batclan proper discovered something familiar in the poor man who was hanging upside down from a supporting girder with the aid of a fully outstretched zip cord, the stern wire doubtlessly scraping and digging at his limbs.

"Hey. I remember you. You're one of the guys we brought in when we busted up one of Daggett's operations," announced Robin, the declaration prompting the ensnared criminal to silently bemoan his unfortunate fate with a look of open-mouthed astonishment.

"Apparently hiring practices have grown a little lax," Batman grumbled back in response, a somewhat unusual rejoinder that would later be blamed on Stephanie's apparent refusal to say something similar. "Nearly a dozen children have been kidnapped within a five block radius of this facility. Tell us what you know and you'll spend the night in a holding cell rather than the prison hospital."

"Okay! Okay!" It was clear from the tone of the constricted crook that the dread he felt over his future in the short term severely outweighed any urge for maintaining professional discretion. "They're saying that Black Mask is behind the whole thing. At least that's who the recruiter said he was workin' with when he came crawling around here looking to see who wanted to make a quick buck. A couple people went with him but the rest of us told him to piss off."

"So you'll run illegal drugs but not help out with child kidnapping," Robin noted with a quirk of her lips. "By jove, we've run into criminals with moral standards."

Batman let out a distinctive sounding grunt that Robin had come to realize was code for her to try and look silent and menacing. In response, the fair-haired Gothamite tried her best to obey the letter of the law even as she cursed herself for firing off such a stupid and pointless joke.

"But why is Sionis branching out this far, Leroy?" Batman asked through gritted teeth. "He's got his own territory. Why risk a war with Daggett?"

"Ya think I've got a fuckin' clue, Bats? The guy's messed up! Maybe he just wants to give people some grief! Maybe he just wants to cut 'em! I don't know!"

Robin guessed that the incredulity and panic in Leroy's tone was probably a missed step fashioned by the fear of being punished simply because he didn't know the right answer to a question. After all, she did have a great deal of personal experience in that particular field. She was even on her way to mulling that part of her over before the sound of distant police sirens drifted through her ears. Keeping to the established protocol, the young vigilante took another look around the factory floor to see if anyone had broken free or tried to rabbit off. Finding no unexpected sights, she let out a quick sigh of relief before she broke into a quick hop which led to a fast walk which eventually led to her catching up with Batman as he marched away from the scene.

"You would all be better off finding other ways to make money," Batman said menacingly, his back turned to his barely attentive audience.

"Or at least have the good sense to prepare your confessions before we show up!" Robin chimed in, the girl's eyes widening upon realizing that her instincts had betrayed her once again. Of course, Batman made no effort to criticize her maneuver but Robin was still far too entrenched with wanting to do a good job to see if other people thought she was actually doing what she should. Giving a nod of courtesy as she passed by the shutter doors that Batman raised up, she continued to keep her eye out for any unusual sights even as she joined her boss in making a quick run for the nearby Batmobile. Bouncing into the passenger seat with a gingerly hop, the child of an impressively broken home resisted the temptation to bob in place out of anticipation and happiness as Batman slid his way into the driver's side.

"Okay. Was it just me or did we get that information too easily?" she finally asked over the roar of the high-powered vehicle rising to life. "I mean, it didn't _seem _like he was lying but we didn't really have to beat the intel out of him either."

"I'm sure you realize that different criminals can have different standards on what is and isn't ethical," Batman explained, the detective calmly weaving onto a side road that ran along the overhead interstate that eventually wound its way towards the roads around Wayne Manor. "Daggett wouldn't allow his lieutenants to bring in people who would use children as bargaining chips. He still considers himself to be a businessman and crimes like that don't fit into what he wants within his sphere of influence."

"So I guess I was right about that whole 'moral standards' thing," Robin noted, the young mother withholding a shudder as she pondered over the kind of monster who would consider these kinds of things to be "business". "Damn, I should have figured that out before I went and asked you, shouldn't I?"

"Perhaps," Batman confessed, the quick response allowing him to see a flicker of dismay flash through the countenance of his young partner. "As underwhelming as it was, you were very efficient in making certain that the situation in the factory didn't get out of hand. Keep working to get more comfortable with trusting your instincts when it comes to controlling a battlefield."

Stephanie's eyes widened with an almost comical degree of giddiness. Momentarily swamped in excitement over having received such a compliment from her childhood hero (as backhanded of a delivery as it was), her brain then finally went to the familiar task of finding a way to try and screw things up.

"So when are you gonna let me drive The Batmobile?"

Batman found it easy to grimace at the thought. "Eventually. That kind of privilege is also a responsibility, one that you can receive if you continue to build up the trust required to hand off that kind of reward."

"Well, I mean, do you have an estimated time sort of rumblin' around in there?" asked Robin, the anticipation garnered from the possibility of doing something that not even _Tim _was allowed to do leaving her ludicrously defenseless.

"Well, given your current rate of progression, I've currently pegged you down for several days after your 31st birthday."

Stephanie momentarily gaped at the joke and the cocky half-smirk on her partner's face. "Hey. . . HEY! I am responsible! I've got my driver's license and everything."

"And yet, here I am, not handing over The Batmobile to you."

"Mock me at your peril, masked man."

Decidedly defeated, Stephanie slumped against the comfy passenger side seat in a manner where the hair along the back of her neck was hefted up so that it pressed against her headband. That odd circumstance, when combined with the gel that she had put onto the top of her hair to keep any stray strands from popping free from formation, made her look like a rather sullen porcupine and Bruce found that he nearly had to press a hand against his lips to stifle his laughter. And as Stephanie stuck out her tongue with a snarl, Bruce was quite grateful that his own face could hide his reflection as he turned away and smiled.

* * *

_Gotham – Three weeks before the present time_

Down amongst an accretion of torn about plywood planks and bashed apart returnable shipping containers, Batman and Huntress wisely dashed for more effective cover in the moments they had before their impractical shelter was torn into by machine gun fire. Moving with speed and fluidity that seemed to go sternly against the bulkiness of their body armor, the two veteran vigilantes managed to escape from harm's way as Batman threw himself into a vaulting dive that carried him over a pile of wooden pallets while Huntress deterred her pursuers with a somewhat blind shot from her crossbow before sliding under a set of rollers holding some maneuverable manufacturing equipment that easily protected her from the hail of bullets that followed. The overhead planks rattled with the sound of rushed footsteps while the vastness of the factory itself allowed the shouted orders of their opponents to be easily carried to their ears. Realizing that somebody had to ask, the purple-clad crime fighter tapped the tiny communicator lodged in her right ear.

"C.C., is there some passageway that they know about and we don't or do we know what we're expecting here?"

As one would hope, the voice on the other end of the comm. link presented a calmness that Helena Bertenelli could not currently provide. "No, the soldiers are dividing themselves between the western and eastern stairwells leading to the ground floor. I suppose that the both of you could forcefully create an alternative route but Intergang appears to be making it quite certain that the best route you have available is through their line of fire."

"We'll just have to work the western side of the facility and clutter the gap as best we can." The Huntress barely jumped as she noticed that Batman had somehow managed to sneak past her senses and arrive at her side. Having grown used to that particular dearth in her ability to read the environment, she trained to keep her eye on the actual prize and took stock of the 14 armed guards lining themselves against the stairwell and the wide hallway that bridged the western and eastern halves of the facility. Some were equipped with Israeli-model sniper rifles, the upper halves of their faces covered by night-vision goggles that would enable them to easily find their targets despite the poor lighting of their surroundings, while the majority were strapped with Kafelnikoves and Springfield automatic pistols. No matter what their armaments though, the soldiers all awaited their quarry patiently, the military veterans that Luthor and Savage had tempted away from their respective national ties honing themselves to search for the slightest movement.

"Don't really need eyes in the sky to see that somebody's going to have to make a charge through this," the former Birds of Prey member noted, her tone hushed but urgent. "So are you gonna try and fake your way through the gauntlet so that I can get to the railings?"

Batman grimaced, his mask tightening with the tensing of his jaw. "No, I'm better off with you working at a distance. You've got a far better shot at successfully distracting them than I would." The detective was clearly mapping his way through his eventual route, the master strategist so focused that he failed to notice the slight flush on Helena's cheeks that came with receiving such a baldly delivered compliment. "Five seconds. Tell me what I should be looking for."

Forced to think on the spot, Helena reviewed the information she had gathered even as she readied her weaponry. "Lights off to the left," she said as the _paft _of Batman's zip line served as the preamble for the next noisy barrage of ammunition. Jerking her way from the edge of the line of fire, she reached into a pocket of her utility belt even as she scrambled her way around the metal container serving as her cover while readying another crossbow bolt. The lone advantage they had of the one-way battlefield was that the confines of the narrow corridor wouldn't allow the gunmen to track her movements as precisely as they would have liked. Making certain to exploit that meager advantage, she swerved around the box crushing machine and slid in front of the broad side of the bulky machinery and thus was well under the gunfire. Keeping her aim quick and true, Helena fired a bolt at the western railing where three of the four snipers were clustered. The metal projectile itself was only designed to harmlessly plink against the balustrade but the "prize" she had left strapped to it detonated on impact resulting in an explosion of sound and light that left the sharpshooters blind and rushing to remove their goggles for fear of being blinded permanently by the miniaturized flash bang grenade. That wise maneuver turned out to be another curse in disguise as Batman, a gas mask strapped firmly around his mouth and nose, rushed across the railing lobbing gas grenades at those seeing and blinded alike.

"Rogue on your seven, H!"

The urgency of Noah Kuttler's exclamation prompted The Huntress to instinctually tuck and roll under the machinery at her back. The _clang _of a metal blade striking the nearby floor briefly rang in her ears but she continued to turn over and over again until she could get safely back to her feet. She barely had time to rise back to her full height before the newest threat made their way back towards her once again and Helena's eyes widened at what she discovered. It was a hulk of a gray-skinned monstrosity with wickedly sharp, silver bone shards that extended at least two feet from his wrists. The beast snarled and showed its two rows of rotted, greenish-black teeth before charging once again, the constrained confines prompting Helena to desperately leap to her right so that she could plant her feet against the metal pillar that stood adjacent to the machinery. Leaping back with as much force as she could muster, Helena thrust her left knee into the side of the demon's head and forced her opponent's skull to smash against the steel machine with a concussive force that allowed her enough time to rush away in the search for more open ground.

"Well, this was unexpected," Helena noted after letting out a breath while loading another crossbow bolt into her wrist holster. Frowning as the shot aimed at her opponent's left eyeball was diverted when the demon lowered his massive head to let the projectile bury itself in the point of his skull, she rolled to her right to avoid the dangerously fast downward slash that raised a smattering of sparks from where the sword collided with the ground. "Okay! B is outnumbered at least ten-to-one and I _don't _have time to be dealing with something like this right now."

The Huntress was most likely hoping for either some explanation on the potential weaknesses of her supernatural predator or some clarification as to how her patrol partner was faring. What she received instead was the unmistakable sound of a woman sincerely attempting to sound like a bugler sounding an enthusiastic charge despite not having an actual musical instrument to work with save her seemingly never unceasing oral cavity. An explosion of glass from a shattered window on the east side of the factory was the next cacophony to follow as a streak of emerald intercepted the demon just moments before it could carry out its next attempt to cleave Helena in two. As the cracking explosion that could only come from the sound of an unyielding fast slamming into a shattering jawbone pounced on her senses, the newest Misfit found herself doing little more than standing still in disbelief as the unexpected intruder descended to the ground.

"Boy, you'd think that the nefarious villains would figure out that they should run away when the cavalry arrives. Or are old western movies outlawed in Luthorland these days?"

Her astonishment shattered, Helena shut her eyes and let out the slow sigh of a frustrated instructor as Robin took to the skies again. The elder of the two Gothamites felt no need to visually confirm what was to happen next because the simple fact was that she already knew. The brave heroine would fire off what she thought to be a snappy retort. . .

"NOOOOOO! Bullets! I've taken a punch from The Anti-Monitor and been thrown through a helicarrier but bullets? It's too much! I simply can't go on!"

She would taunt her hopelessly outgunned quarry while dissecting them with ridiculous ease.

"Come on, guys! Be a bit more creative at least! I mean, how about throwing pies with arsenic whipped cream? Wear some matching neon green outfits with question marks splayed all over the place! Unleash some rabid zombie monkeys that have been infected by the T-virus. The whole secret military thing is just getting old!"

The silence that lingered for the next several moments provided more than enough information to tell The Huntress that the battle was over and Robin was most likely standing in front of The Batman (or perhaps The Batman had stalked his way over to her, that part of the sequence hardly mattered). And that, inevitably, led to the increasingly familiar moment where both active parties of the battlefield would continue their seemingly eternal game of expectation and disappointment.

"Why are you here, Robin?"

The sigh of The Huntress was easily blunted out by Stephanie's noisier gasp. Taking another look at the fallen demon and guessing that it wasn't going to be getting up again anytime soon, the JLA reject nearly broke into a casual stroll while observing the two soon-to-be squabbling superheroes.

"What? I saw that the situation was starting to get out of control and it didn't make any sense for me to just be watching from The Batcave!"

"You shouldn't have been 'watching' in the first place, Robin," Batman grumbled back, his jaw clenched and his gnashed teeth visible from his slightly pried lips. "This was the time that you were given to rest and prepare for your request to meet with The Council of Oa. Moreover, this battlefield was not unmanageable in the slightest even with the arrival of the supernatural entity. The Huntress and I both have experience in dealing with such situations and your ignorance of that fact leads me to believe that you simply disrespect the abilities of your comrades."

"It's not that I don't respect you! You know it's not!"

Looking on at Stephanie's shouting and sputtering, Helena was able to receive the rare but valuable experience of acquiring secondhand knowledge in a stressor that she had long had to deal with face-to-face. And, with that privilege, she supposed that she could understand why her usually taciturn partner would be so vocal with his disapproval. After all, it wasn't as if she could just deny the sting of annoyance that rumbled through when Stephanie had stormed her way into something that she was taking responsibility for. She had worked hard and trained diligently to be prepared for situations like these and it did kind of stick in her craw that somebody else, particularly someone she had been all but forced to bottle feed through the chaotic aftermath of the earthquake that had struck Gotham years ago, had just decided to take somebody else's share of her own work.

Of course, the stupidest part of it all was that Batman and Robin, Bruce and Stephanie, weren't really fighting about that. For all their differences the both of them shared a unique, endearing and maddening kind of emotional sightlessness that could drive an otherwise sensible female vigilante up the walls.

"A professional baseball team doesn't go and play a game without putting together the best team they've got available! A military operation doesn't happen until the generals and such figure out who needs to be where! Now I think when a demon comes rumbling into town then that calls for a heavy hitter or your biggest gun and that was me!"

"What was needed was for you to handle your responsibilities rather than wasting your time watching others to see whether or not they could take of theirs," Batman fired back, his cape swirling along with the rest of him as he turned and stalked towards the western entrance to the factory. "We don't have the time to talk about this. I need to go speak to Bullock."

Helena briefly ran her tongue against her upper front teeth as she brought herself to the scene. The time she needed and the distance that she had to travel enabled the vigilante to continue to look on passively as Batman strode away. Robin, presenting the stark, contrasting similarity that one might have expected, spent a handful of seconds standing rooted and fuming before she slammed her right foot into a rusty, 200 pound wire basket that tumbled like a thrown dice in spite of its bulky design. The rattling of metal sounded downright offensive to The Huntress's ears but she managed to steel her senses and resisted the urge to grow angry and fearful, the stubborn blood of the Bertenellis serving her well once again.

"Y'know, I'm not all that impressed with the manager of this ball club right now but that doesn't mean that the players should start trashing the dugout."

Stephanie whirled to face Helena and the elder of the two Gothamites found herself startled to discover that she felt a flicker of fear blooming in her gut. Not surprisingly, it only took a peek at the younger woman's face to see that her reservations were unnecessary.

"I. . . I didn't want it to be like this," Robin said, her usually lively voice sounding drained and hollow. "I wanted to be Robin! Y'know! The other half of Batman and? I didn't want. . . this Green Lantern stuff! I didn't want. . ."

"Well, you got the power of a god so you're just gonna have to accept the fact that people are going to start looking at you sourly when you start acting like a Kardashian sister." Helena's precise strike set her target into another quick round of stammering and the elder of the two female crime fighters used that opportunity to clamp a firm hand on Stephanie's left shoulder as the flush in the younger woman's cheeks just began to blaze. "Come on, Spoiler. Remember when the whole No Man's Land thing hit? You could have stayed behind and did the whole superhero thing but you didn't. You wanted to make sure that your mom was going to be all right so you left. You made the right decision for the people you care about and I'm sure that's what Bruce wants to do with you."

Stephanie's face screwed up in first in confusion and then in egotistical anger. "Well, I may have helped out my mom but other people ended up getting hurt because I wasn't around. Now I am here and I can protect Gotham and Batman says that I should focus on other things? Why? So I won't horn in on his turf?"

"Because he doesn't want this to become 'your turf'," Helena said patiently, the usually fiery Italian American nearly as surprised as Stephanie that she managed to pull off her tone with such fluidity. "I mean, what do you think Dick Grayson would say if Bruce called him on the phone and said that he needed him back in Gotham? Why did I have to put up with my ears cramping up every time that Drake kid called up Barbara and just yammered on and on about. . . 'Why does Bruce want me to stay in San Francisco? Why didn't he want him back in Gotham? Doesn't he know that I'm always there to help him, blah blah blah, bitch bitch bitch?"

Stephanie let out a shocked snort in spite of herself and that only coerced her into turning away from Helena's gaze and trying to hold in her hysterical laughter. And, to her credit, Helena only looked a little bit smug when the Gotham based Robin managed to restore herself and look at her questioner straight on.

"I mean, I got the whole spiel from Babs. The big, bad brooder brings in these wounded birds to try and lighten up the dismal hole he crams himself into. Still, you wouldn't keep a wounded bird tied to the ground when they're ready to fly again, would you? And, honey, I've seen some of those things that you can do and it is a looooong way from the little brat who could barely make out the ass end of her costume."

Letting out a sigh, Stephanie smiled despite being surrounded in the midst of her broken argument. "But I like my nest," she said stubbornly, the Green Lantern clucking her tongue as she realized how childish that proclamation was. "And he. . . he still needs that light in his life, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does. And Lord knows I'm not the one to provide it." Helena said with a sagely shrug of her shoulders. "Still, ya don't need to be around somebody all the time just to prove that you care. Don't ever think that he doesn't need you, okay?"

"Okay." Stephanie allowed herself a bit of a sniffle, the vigilante feeling oddly soothed with the recognition that she was receiving such kindly advice from a woman who seemed to draw inspiration from kneeing men in their testicles. "Any other advice you can send my way while you're at it?"

"Yeah. Stop horning in on my turf," The Huntress snapped back, a trace of her usual nature suddenly roaring to life before it was settled down by a sarcastic smirk. "'Cause this whole teaming up with The Batman thing? Kind of like my dream job."

* * *

_Present Time _

Perhaps it wasn't the most dignified way to go about her business, shaking with laughter while sprawled on the floor of the _Justimara _as the spacecraft blazed its way away from Fortuna's ionosphere on the way to and through Farlyl relay space. She could have blamed it on the amusement that seemed to be churning from the Green Lanterns around her or the stark, dumbfounded outrage of her subordinate but she found no reason to levy any fault on anything else. She'd own up to it all if only because it was so damn funny to do so.

"I. . . Colonel Toren! I apologize but the situation became something that was just out of my control!" sputtered Private Orderlyn, the combination of shock and adrenaline blinding him from the amusement that Stephanie seemed to drink in heartily. "I had no idea that Lieutenant Brown was going to go to such extreme means to complete the mission! And. . . and then the local authorities showed up and she began to drag me along! I wanted to cooperate with them."

"At ease, Private," Toren said soothingly, the veteran spacefarer seeking to keep his charges loose but still ready when the fight finally arrived. "You just got a test to see whether or not you could keep your head when a situation becomes something you didn't expect. You wanted to hang with the soldier in the spotlight and that means you had to suffer the consequences when the grandstander decided that all the attention she gets meant that she could do what she wanted to do!"

"Hey! Don't blame me! It was the noob that didn't get a hold of the script!" the aforementioned diva exclaimed while leaping to her feet with a natty kip-up. Smoothing back some wisps of blonde hair that had strayed from her hair band, Stephanie gave her unfortunate comrade a pat on the back before moving to stand face-to-face with her commanding officer. "And besides! I got the job done, didn't I? Now we know that Kurkosaw is working out of Solur and we can go track him down."

"Indeed. But what did we really learn from this little experience, Lieutenant Brown?" Toren asked while crossing his lean, muscular arms across his equally sculptured torso.

"That we just got that information far too easily," Robin replied, her lively eyes narrowing slightly in the wake of her garnered attention. "I was going out of my way to cause a scene and the merchant authorities permitted us to get away with next to no effort even with me having to carry out the rookie. A place with that much money floating around is bound to have some top-notch security but we barely even got a whiff of pig."

Toren frowned at that, the former Lost Lantern measuring Stephanie once again. "So, from how you are describing it, you may believe that the Fortunians are willing to allow those that may be looking for information on Leokar Kurkosaw to step over the usual line of the law."

"Not to mention that this Oksis guy gave up the intel as quickly as he could stammer it out," Stephanie added, the recognition gaining her another note of respect from the wily Kazarian. "He didn't stall and he didn't try to give out any false information and there's just _no _way that he didn't know that some intergalactic authorities with lie detectors on his fingers were just tromping around the marketplace. All that means that he was being encouraged to hand out Kurkosaw's location and that means that either the merchants want the guy out as much as the police do. . ."

"Or Kurkosaw is trying to lure us in! Just like he probably did to the other Lanterns assigned to track him down," concluded another Green Lantern, an orange, sharply defined creature with jutting cheekbones on a face that Stephanie couldn't quite put a name to. "Sir, do you want me to place a call to the Corps to request more reinforcements?"

Toren, as unruffled as he appeared to be, let out a deep and cleansing breath while his long fingers skimmed across the markings on the right side of his face. "Well, if he's able to set up a plant and influence police patrols then it's fairly clear that Kurkosaw has eyes and ears on everything that is going on in regards to interstellar travel in the Farlyl system. And, even if this is a feint, there's precious little guarantee that Kurkosaw will simply stay where he is and wait for more of our forces to arrive."

"So he wants a fight that he thinks he can handle," Stephanie concluded, her own arms bent evenly as she placed her hands on her hips. "Or we need to bring the fight to him before this all becomes a wasted effort. Either way there's going to be a scrap."

"No, this is the continuation of warfare that has already claimed the lives of nearly a dozen Green Lanterns," Toren countered, his unnecessary reminder nevertheless reminding his soldiers of what could happen. "Whatever his defenses may consist of, Kurkosaw and his supporters have acquired a ways and means of combating organisms of great supernatural force. Moreover, they have enough confidence in their weaponry that they are willing to trench their way into one of the most active economic markets in the cosmos rather than working on commercial fringes."

"Okay. So they've clearly got power," Robin allowed, the young Earthling paying little mind to the surrounding array of eyes that were now bouncing back and forth between her and Toren like the two leading Lanterns were playing tennis. "But is this the kind of power that's enough to make us believe that he can handle an entire regiment of Green Lanterns or are we going to go down to that solar pit and show this truncated trumpy trunky why everything falls in the face of The Corps!"

The supportive outcry was loud and nearly universal, the noisiest instance coming from Private Orderlyn while the lone silent remark stemmed from Stephanie's commanding officer. Recognizing that striding against the current of momentum would ultimately do more harm than good, Toren left the other soldiers to their preparations and celebrations as he tilted his head toward the hallway connecting the bridge from the lift elevator. He strode away briskly, his eyes broadcasting a confident gaze towards those he would soon be leading into battle, and waited patiently at his destination for Stephanie to join him out of sight from the other soldiers of Oa.

"We are walking directly into a trap."

Stephanie's smirk held a dangerous kind of confidence that Toren had seen in many of his fellow Lanterns, the vast majority of whom now populated graveyards around the cosmos. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know, commander. Still, the Guardians didn't bring me onto this crew for my style and good humor. They brought me here to fight and to test the boundaries so let me do what I'm here to do."

Toren stretched his brow upward. "So you wish to spring the trap?"

Robin's grin stayed strong.

"Just as long as I get to play the mouse."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

I've got a bit of a confession to make. I have been paying absolutely no attention to what has been going on in the world of comics in the last several months. It's kind of odd when I mull the whole thing over considering that, when I started this project six years ago, I was one of those people who would show up at the LCS every Wednesday afternoon and pore over as many books as I could while buying those that I could afford. Now I'll just browse around the local Barnes & Noble spending a couple minutes rifling through the magazine stacks, my searching usually not bringing me anywhere near anything published by DC Comics even. I mean, I try to keep abreast of what's going on with Batman but if you asked me a specific question about those current events I would probably look at you like a cow looks at an oncoming train (thank you, Weird Al Yankovic).

So, no, I can't tell you my opinion on the continuing foray into DC's reboot, I don't give a damn about whether Cyclops or Wolverine is right about where mutants should be going and I still have some of my old comics if I want to read about Peter and Mary Jane being together. Maybe this is just me "growing up" or maybe it is what's being written but the whole comic thing has largely become an unnecessary enterprise for me.

Still, bear in mind that this has nothing to do with the delay on this issue. That's just because I'm busy as a stud horse's balls.

* * *

_Issue #141 Preview_

The start of a battle in the present can often evoke the wars of the past. This won't be the first time that Stephanie has dealt with death alongside her comrades in The Green Lantern Corps. She has made friends, earned enemies, and sacrificed the time and emotion to turn the relationships she had before her death into something different as she returns. The whole thing makes for an odd tale to be certain but the memories do have their places, just like the experiences of all of us, but Stephanie Brown likes to believe that her destiny is a little grander than the average bear's destiny.

But what do you readers think? Perhaps what is required is some more information and you will receive it in the next installment of _The Misfits_: The Artist, The Madman, and The Chosen. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	141. The Artist, The Madman and The Chosen

Issue #141

The Artist, The Madman, and The Chosen

_Four years and three months before the present time_

Kyle Rayner had first crossed paths with Stephanie shortly after the third time Kilowog had sent her to the hospital. It would take months for him to admit his penalties in full but the raven-haired illustrator and intergalactic hero would later sheepishly claim that he had first heard that she was on The Guardians' home world several weeks before (some point around the second time Kilowog had sent her to the E.R. as Stephanie herself would then point out). Still, the combination of a busy schedule and his own nervousness to speak with a member of "The Batclan" was enough for him to resist the temptation of meeting his fellow Earthling. Of course, it only took a smattering of swapped stories and awkward rejoinders launched on both sides before Hal Jordan's heir came to realize that he may have very well found a partner in crime. Of course, the particular crime happened to be an unfettered attraction to most thinks geekdom but it wasn't as if the both of them had not been subjected to a number of disenchanting glances from their peers in derring-do who looked down on those who would have an in-depth discussion about who would win in a fight between Goku and Superman.

"Fine, Kylie! Let's just say they're the same age! By the time he was forty Goku was able to vaporize a creature that could blow up a planet just by crashing through it!"

"Look! You're just saying all this because you've never seen Superman in action, Steph! And besides! Kid Buu was powerful but he was also just a psycho _and _Goku wouldn't have beaten him if Vegeta and Mr. Satan weren't there to help him gather energy for the Genki Dama. Plus there's the simple fact that Darkseid isn't gonna just sit there and wait to be hit by a giant ball of energy. Darkseid would have found a way to beat Kid Buu with his intelligence and if he could beat Buu and Superman could defeat Darkseid then Superman can beat Goku!"

"Oh, don't give me that prep time bullshit!" Stephanie barked back, her outrage soon countered by Kyle's presentation of abject disbelief. "We're talking about primal stuff here! Brutal and animal instinct!"

Given its function as a gathering point for thousands upon thousands of intergalactic peacekeepers, Oa had long been a haven for conversational topics that dwarfed even the number of entities that inhabited the magically manufactured sphere. Still, as the weeks had worn on, Kyle Rayner and Stephanie Brown continued to find topics that nobody on that planet would understand except for them. These bones of contention included, but were not limited to:

Favorite Hero in a Final Fantasy Game: (Stephanie: Terra, Kyle: Squall in spite of an abusive amount of teasing from his conversational rival)

Best Weird Al Yankovic song: (Stephanie: White and Nerdy, Kyle: A firm declaration of Everything You Know is Wrong after a sleep-inducing symposium centered around the songwriter's underrated ability to produce original material)

Strangest Harry Potter fanfiction ever read: (Kyle: A crossover story with Castlevania: Symphony of The Night wherein Harry was transformed into a woman and romanced by Alucard after Draco Malfoy was revealed to be a member of the Belmont family, Stephanie: A story whose title she couldn't quite remember wherein Hermione quite cheerfully acquired carnal interest in her cat, Crookshanks)

"Well, whatever argument you may want to hide behind," Kyle offered in concession while shaking his head in disbelief at that last particular memory, "let me just say once again what a breath of fresh air you are to come back to after another long mission out in the galactic sticks."

"Oh, man! You think _you _were bored?" Stephanie asked back while running her fingers through her hair as if she was ringing the very atoms of her frustration straight from her golden strands. "At least you can move around and stuff! I've got nothing to listen to except Kilowog and all his lessons about how to be the bestest Lantern I can be! 'Recognize your fear and bend it to your will. Only those who will embrace all facets of their power can ever come to understand what is rightfully theirs. You too can have cleaner, brighter teeth in just seven days with our fabulous new product.'" The last sarcastically misplaced quotation drew a snort of laughter from Kyle that was so forceful and sudden that Stephanie herself was startled and smiled back in return. "Oh, and let's not forget all the macho, hoorah garbage you have to put up with whenever you step in the barracks. I swear, all they ever talk about is what they're doing to train or what they're planning on doing after they get their training done. And I thought that would just be a man thing but the women are even worse!"

"Well, I'm just grateful I had the chance to learn more about being a Green Lantern in the line of fire," Kyle honestly replied, the man who had once been the lone remaining member of the Corps taking a moment to look over the bustling community around him. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It's great that there's a place where people can start to learn how to use all this power we're given but I can't help but feel a little boxed in when I'm here. 'Cause if you're not running into a straight-laced soldier then it's some fly-by-the-seat action junkie who just wants to find the best way to get their face on the front page of a galactic video feed."

Stephanie wisely employed the time Kyle spent lost in thought to bite her lower lip as she temporarily shuffled her own _Gotham Gazette _related aspirations to the side. She began to form a more meaningful reply when her eyes were swamped with flashes of emerald light that arose from the rings on her and Kyle's fingers. Snapping to attention, she quickly recalled that this was the signal for Oan-based Green Lanterns to report to their nearest briefing post. This subsequently left her with the dismal reminder that she had yet to be declared to be an official member of The Corps but that little fact didn't seem to stop Kyle from clapping his spare hand on her shoulder while regarding her as an equal.

"Come on, Steph. The Citadel is the closest place for a briefing. Just follow me if you don't remember how to get there."

A great many clashing inclinations assaulted Stephanie all at once, the thought that soon rose to dominance being that she wasn't ready for whatever was happening. On the other hand, that reservation had been a part of her notions for a long time and in many permutations. That, in turn, led to such reservations being influenced with conspiratorial whispers snatched from hundreds of hours of humbling training and the continuously blooming desire to prove herself to those around her and that tempted her to take to the sky only a second after Rayner. She continued to follow him with ease as they soared above Carnirus, the lunar field that had come to be their sanctuary away from the training base, before rocketing westward at several times the speed of sound so as to offer ample reaction time should any other of their fellow soldiers happen to cross their paths. Emerald lights buzzed in front of Stephanie's eyes as they eventually approached the central citadel and the entire distraction was enough to nearly throw her as Kyle came to a stop in front of the monolithic structure rather than dart inside with the rest of his comrades. The question hovered on her lips as her feet found solid ground but she ended up swallowing her words as a somewhat familiar presence strode forward to meet them, her lissome frame, long, athletically-crafted limbs and purple skin providing testaments of her Qwardian heritage.

"What's going on, Soranik? It's been a long time since we've had to hear an all-points alert."

Soranik Natu, a longtime freedom fighter who toiled for over a decade to overthrow the despotic reign of Sinstro before receiving her destined summons to The Corps, remained unruffled as she first examined Rayner's curiosity before taking note of Brown's alarm. "It's not as bad as it looks, Kyle. I don't suppose that you would know anything about AndmaJutalnak,would you?"

"The leader of Katina," Kyle easily replied. "Lots of people think he gives dictators a bad name and the Corps has been keeping a watch on him for years now."

Natu nodded quickly, the experienced battlefield coordinator apparently quite determined to ignore any unnecessary words. "Jutalnak has apparently chosen to eliminate the rising public protests in his capital through an act of genocide. It's been reported that nearly 100,000 civilians were slaughtered before rebel forces could gather and start to safeguard the populace but they are ridiculously outgunned. Jultanak's personal guard is an army of mercenary militia that number nearly 40,000 strong and they've got enough weapons to torch the entire solar system. This hasn't been declared an extinction level event thus far but it's something that requires a great deal of our attention. We're scrambling 1,000 of our unstationed Green Lanterns to contain the situation and the both of you are on that list."

"Woah! Woah! Wait a second!" Stephanie exclaimed while sliding between the two veteran warriors with a quickness. "But. . . but I'm not a Green Lantern! I'm just a trainee."

"A trainee tutored personally by Kilowog himself," Natu fired back while giving the younger of the two Earthlings with another once over. "I don't know how much say ol' Pinky had on the matter but the Council wouldn't have assigned you to this task if they didn't have faith in you. Or, well, perhaps The Council just wants to see if you're worth all the time and effort that's being put into you."

"Well, thanks so much for the positive outlook," Stephanie broke in once again before Kyle could offer his own two cents. "I mean, I'm just saying that this looks like a pretty big deal. . ."

"And it is. It's your trial by fire, 'Littlest Poozer'," Natu said, her smirk deepening as her employment of Kilowog's pet name for the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns prompting the aforementioned Earthling to briefly grate her teeth over her lower lip. "Don't tell me that it's not good enough for you if it wasn't for the rest of us."

"I don't know. I was always looking for someone to complain to about my initiation into the fold," Rayner said ruefully even as he moved to follow Natu in lock step. "Okay, Steph. I know the situation isn't ideal but you can make it through this. I've seen you in action and you know your stuff." Ignoring the somewhat bemused stare radiating from the face of his superior officer, the black-haired Earthling fixed his intentions on his friend's lagging confidence and smiled. "And, hey, if you don't come back then how are you going to convince me that Goku could beat up Superman?"

Stephanie wisely tabled her reservations with a chuckle before summoning her determination in a manner that she thought The Batman would approve of.

_I really hope I'm ready for this._

* * *

_The Lunar Whale - Fourteen months from the present time_

She took comfort in the eternally present humming of the turbines that lined the nearby engine room and dug from some hidden veil of confidence from her buoyed mood in spite of the fact that she was being waylaid by creatures with the strength of gods. Cycling the energy of her ring to multiply her strength and agility by a thousand fold, she combined that barely bridled force with the knowledge and instincts she had gathered in the last several weeks and moved in a manner that she hoped her opponent would not suspect. Her predator responded in kind, the handful of tiny eldritch bolts that nicked and scratched along the sides of her abdomen a sign that he had come to learn of her own escape patterns in turn. Stephanie hissed from the burns and felt the slight nicks seething in the wake of her travels and sought to regain herself by placing her feet back on steady ground to prepare for the next barrage. She knew that her opponent would continue to try to work at a distance, an inclination that usually gave her an advantage within the relatively cramped confines of their surroundings, and struggled to close the gap the moment the battle began anew.

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns had been listening to the joshing rumors and had long since dismissed them. She ignored the wagers that the forcefulness of their activities would eventually bring about a catastrophe that would blow out the underbelly of Mao Tenryu's massive interstellar craft and her responses to those japes and jokes never extended beyond a slightly sharp glance. After all, it had been pretty easy for her to crack a joke when she was in their shoes. When the lives of people she didn't know were on the line. When Earth hadn't been in danger and The Sinestro Corps wasn't looking to annihilate everything she knew and there wasn't a thing that she could do about it. It was a lot easier to put one step of your mood in front of the other when the only life that you had to really look after was your own.

Sliding away from the attacks she could avoid while deflecting or parrying those that she couldn't, the proud Gothamite felt her anticipation bubbling as she got close enough to her target to bring her fists into play. She was soon rewarded for her resolve with a punch to the face, the impact yanking her neck back and briefly leaving her at Hal Jordan's complete absence of mercy. The former Air Force ace managed to land another stern hook and a body blow before Robin could regain her bearings, the youngest of the two Green Lanterns feeling the blood beginning to ooze from the aperture above her left eyebrow. The sizzle of the crimson fluid curdling against the heat generated from her ring's energy barrier wafted into Stephanie's ears but easily pushed her reservations aside and continued to work in closer. Jordan may have known a bit more about hand-to-hand combat than Toren did those many months ago but she knew she was forcing the more experienced Green Lantern to play in a field he wasn't fully comfortable with. There was a unique kind of knowledge required when it came to waging physical warfare with an Oan power ring and that was a field of study that Stephanie had make certain to embrace as tightly as she could. That insistence yielded its fruit once more as she easily telegraphed a left hook and slid to the left well before Hal's attack could arrive. As the fist and forearm passed well over her right shoulder, she sprang out with her right foot and trapped Hal's arm against the wall with a standing leg lift. Pivoting with her left foot, she broke into a short hop that put her even with the former avatar of Parallax before she slammed her left fist into Jordan's jaw, the impact of the shot slamming her unfortunate adversary into the aforementioned wall and leaving him dizzy and eliminated.

She registered a familiar popping sound in the next instant but Stephanie already had her familiar energy claws at the ready. The silver streaks of the _Mugalshir _were the only signals that could help her ward off the assault of The Black Dog as the half-demon took advantage of her fatigue to instantly gain the offensive. Now momentarily outgunned, the fourth person to don the mantle of Robin was once again forced to rely on her past experiences and accumulated knowledge as the rest of her brain seemed to rush forward to catch up with her instincts. She knew that her adopted big brother would try and strike her with quick, rapid lashes from the gleaming saber since he didn't want to run the risk of his best weapon being trapped in the clutches of her own half-dozen daggers of supernatural energy. He'd force her to defend with her wrists bent rather than straightened, the efforts leaving her arms too encumbered to help her deal with the reach advantage that the Brit had at his disposal. Of course, the advantage of claws was found in their wielder's ability to adapt quickly to the matters at hand and it may have been a simple stroke of luck but Stephanie still managed to "catch" one of Lloyd's swipes within the claws that grew from the edges of her left knuckle. The opening was minute and would have been gone in an instant but Stephanie still managed to push through it with a standing roundhouse that caught the right side of Lloyd's face and sent him stumbling down.

The explosion of motion that followed provided a unique contrast to the preamble of the last encounter but Stephanie found herself more prepared for this one than she had for the last. She almost couldn't believe that her newest opponent had made such a rookie mistake and she was even thinking over the reasons why it happened even as her tight, backward somersault allowed her to stamp her feet down firmly against the back of her onward rushing opponent. Moving and thinking with equal swiftness, Stephanie picked up her temporarily stunned adversary by her long, blonde locks and brought her body in a tight spin that was enough to work up the centrifugal force to sling Kara Zor-el into the wall opposite of the one that Hal had slid against while working to recover.

The floor beneath her shook with the force of the half-Kryptonian's impact but any caustic satisfaction that Stephanie could have garnered from her emphatic victory was easily drowned out as a tornado of gold and scarlet surrounded her. Within an instant the shoe was on the other foot and now she was forced to suffer the same penalties that she had levied onto Hal Jordan only moments ago. Now she was the turtle trying desperately to catch up with the hare and it was all she could do to simply defend herself from the hundreds of strikes being thrown at her.

Of course, most tortoises, metaphorical or otherwise, weren't equipped with the ability to generate a pulse of light as bright as a solar flare. The illuminating explosion forced the scarlet-colored hare into stumbling blindly away from his relentless offense and offering Robin a fraction of a second of breathing room. Knowing that there was precious little time and suddenly finding the energy from her ring was beginning to wane, the former Spoiler desperately stuck to what little strength and speed she could muster from her own limbs and grabbed Wally's right wrist and ensnared it within a hyperflexing lock. Bending the speedster's arm over her shoulder, she brought the former Justice Leaguer down on his butt before rising back to her full height.

Then it hit her. Hal, Lloyd, Kara, Wally. . . she just beat them all.

"I DID IT! I FINALLY WON!" Stephanie crowed, her giddiness ultimately prompting her to engage in an excited display that made the Green Lantern look as if she had lost control of her principal motor functions. There were short little hops and awkward dance maneuvers involving a lot of elbow and shoulder movement and the whole thing just seemed to reek of a person who had just done something that they never thought they would do and thusly had no idea how to respond upon realizing that they had succeeded. "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! I'm awesome! It's my birthday! It's my birthOOOOWW!"

"And it was all going so well," Hal Jordan noted, his voice barely carrying over the laughter of the battle's three other participants. To his credit, the veteran Lantern was patient enough to wait as Stephanie recovered herself after he had brought her down face first with a thump to the back of her then defenseless head. "Hey. Nobody ever said that the training exercise was over," he noted while refusing to wither from Stephanie's sour frown. Finally proving himself to be a gentleman, he then extended his right hand down to his tired comrade and helped her back up to her feet. "Still, I guess a little bit of celebration is in order for this occasion. Stephanie's first successful time through the gauntlet, yeah?"

As chagrined as she was by the humiliating undoing of her streak of successes, Stephanie felt herself smiling as Kara, Lloyd, and Wally all broke into applause. She tried her best to control what was to come but ultimately found her desire to maintain her status as a melodramatic showoff being overtaken by her underlying shyness and she finally turned away from the scene as she fought the flush of her cheeks. It was one thing for her to joke away at Bruce or Tim's half-hearted compliments or absorb Dick or Barbara's smart-mouthed quips or to try to understand what had been behind Cassandra Cain's silent stares but _this_? This open appreciation of what she did and all the hard work she put herself through to do it? This was still something to adjust to even after having a couple years to learn how.

But she found the effort to be worth it. So fucking worth it.

"All right, I'm tired of looking at all these spots swimming around in front of me head," declared The Flash before the situation could get too out of hand. "I say we call it for the day and come back after a good night's rest."

"Seconded!" Stephanie heard Hal exclaim, the younger Green Lantern resisting the urge to jump in surprise as the former stunt pilot patted her on the shoulder before starting to follow the others out of the chamber. "Oh, but I am _not _coming back here tomorrow. You guys play way too rough."

"Awwwww, does 'Old Man Yeagerr' wanna go back to The Justice League," The Flash taunted as Kara shook her head to and fro, the three of them continuing to banter and chatter even as the door slid shut behind him. Then, realizing that the endearing scene was short one character, Stephanie searched about to find Lloyd looking at her expectantly from the opposite side of the room. Her senses were already set to a state of mild alarm and the thoughtful neutrality that seemed to resonate from The Black Dog's countenance only served to set her nerves at an even sharper edge.

"What?" Stephanie asked as Lloyd continued to remain still. "What are you grinning at, ya ghoul? Ya gonna start up this fight or not?"

Lloyd finally let out a smirk as he flipped his sword about in his left hand. "Okay. I'll admit that what you just pulled off was pretty bloody impressive. Still, this whole blind, gung ho attitude needs to come to a stop right now, Tweety. You're actin' like your world is gonna fall apart even if you just look at it the wrong way."

"Hey, you're the one who was all insisting about being prepared for what we're going up against!" Caught as she was in the boosting of her spirits and the panic that she was being criticized, Stephanie's rejoinder came out with an awkward sense of forced humor. "What? You're just nervous about losing to me two times in a row?"

Robin rushed forward, the young fighter eager to get away from her unwanted situation. She came in surging with her left claw poised to dig into her opponent's left shoulder and it was only a half-second before it felt as if her arm was being torn out of socket. Her body twisting and turning from the force of Lloyd's simple parry, she felt Lloyd's right hand coil around her neck before she was slammed to the ground back first. Momentarily struck dumb from the impact, she quickly recovered herself only to find that The Black Dog was now calmly holding the edge of his blade against her throat.

"Not in the slightest," the predator replied before rising back to his full height. Unlike Hal, Lloyd made no effort to help Stephanie to her feet as he stalked away. "Bloody hell, little sis! Why is it that every time you get a little taste of success you just feel the need to just jump right in to whatever happens next without even thinking about what happens! _That's _the kind of attitude that is going to get you killed!"

"Then help me to keep that from happening! Just. . . teach me!" Stephanie was back to her feet and seeing Lloyd as he was, calm and still and waiting for her reaction, seemed positively infuriating. "Damn it, we're been trapped in this ship for weeks now and we don't know what's going on in Gotham! Bruce! My mom! Cassie! They might all be dead now and I can't _do _anything! I spent all this time working and learning how to make things right and now it feels like everything is going wrong and there's nothing I can do about it!"

"This isn't about learning how to keep bad things from happening. This is about figuring out how to deal with the hurt when we get back to whatever we're going to find. We're going to be looking into sifting through the damage for the rest of our lives and I don't need the person watching my back to be all ready and willing to just dive into the choppy waters because she isn't patient enough to look before she leaps."

The words were simple enough but what really hit Stephanie was the calm detachment that came with it. The little smile that came with it. She had come to loathe that little quirk of the lips if only because it was starting to define everything that Lloyd had become for her since they had both declared it was them and Batman against the world. He was a friend, an opponent, and a tether to the ground she often liked to walk on even when she so frequently felt the urge to fly away.

"Fine. Help me learn how to swim, big brother," Stephanie asked while bringing her energy claws to bear. "Help me be ready for the next mistake."

* * *

_Present Time_

"All right, soldier. You've been given clearance to investigate Leokar Kurkosaw's suspected base of operations on Solur. Colonel Toren will remain in charge of looking after the rest of his squad but you're being given the green light if it comes to diving into a hostile situation. We need to discover what this criminal has in terms of resources so we can start finding the avenues that he's getting them from."

Stephanie briefly examined the image of her old mentor and grew more and more critical with each passing fraction of a second. "So we're all just being given the go ahead? And I'm just expected to leap into the line of fire? Just like that? I mean, I know I was all gung ho about it when I was talking about walking into a trap but I didn't think the Council would be so keen on having me do it. Are _you _comfortable with having me do this?"

Kilowog betrayed nothing, the Bolovarian's squat eyes and face creasing so slightly that the gesture could easily have been considered away as a trick of the light. "I'm serving as the voice of The Corps and The Oan Council in this matter, Lieutenant Brown. As such, I will remind you that your own comfort shouldn't be an issue in the face of the lives that you are assigned to watch over."

"Yeah, but what happens if the only life in danger right now is just mine," Stephanie said casually, the Lantern with the pale, blue eyes feeling no qualms with presenting her own emotional hand. "I mean, we're just being thrown into a sitch where we're either supposed to die to demonstrate what this asshole is capable of or we're diving into something because nobody wants to take the time to see if the next possibility is only going to be worse. Now I'm asking you which is it and why we're doing it!"

"And I'm _telling _ya that you're stepping well outside your boundaries in regards to how much you should be questionin' your orders." Whatever sympathies the veteran Green Lantern had for his former charge seemed to have been rapidly dissipating in the face of what the soldier considered to be a wave of unprofessionalism. "You want all that power that comes from your ring then you better remember to honor the creatures that gave you the privilege. You are a soldier representing The Green Lantern Corps and we have trained you to handle yourself through any and every mission that we set out for you. Sayin' that you can't or don't know how to means that you can't handle your job and if you can't do that then you can just go ahead and turn your ring back in when you return to Oa."

"You know I won't do that!" Stephanie spat back. Continuing to fume, the Gotham-based Robin felt her fingers tingle with the urge to reach for the strap of armor and cloth that she had pulled up over her head, the mask that could better conceal her anger and anxiety. "Hell, the Council probably knows that I won't give this up even more than I do! But what about Orderlyn? This is his first actual mission! And Toren and the others? I mean, this isn't just me getting thrown into the fire here!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here I was thinkin' that you little poozers were intergalactic crime fighters," Kilowog spat back, his previous politesse now having been abandoned completely in favor of the bull-headed style that the trainer favored when he was dressing down the young recruits. "Don't start acting like you don't know what the score is. You guys get through this then there ain't no muss. We get what we need, you can get what you want, and everybody gets to get back on more important things rather than wastin' the time it takes to gear up for a job that could have been handled by a handful."

Stephanie made no attempt to conceal her contempt. "Yeah, and if we die then, hey, it's just a couple of more former heroes on the blazing fire, right? This'll just be the subject matter for another nice, inspirational speech to give to the new flock of very heroic sheep."

"Don't play the high and mighty card with me, 'Littlest Poozer'. We bring the Corps into this in full and we start stirrin' up a storm of shit in a sector that's just now settling down after all the garbage from Jutalnak. If ya got some issues with how it's going down then quit whining about what it might be and start using those skills of yours to make it what you want to be."

"Oh, come on!" shouted back Stephanie, her frustration pouring out as she planted her hands on the edges of the communications console. "I can't just start to believe that I can control everything that goes on around me. I'm not some recruit fresh out of basic training, Pinky!"

"Kilowog out," the porcine commander reported, his declaration punctuated as the link to Oa was severed and Stephanie was left to stare at an empty black screen.

Stephanie felt her teeth tighten, her hands gripping the edges of the console until her fingertips began to dig into the metallic exterior. She wrenched away her grip before any more harm could be done but she continued to wring her hands as she sucked in a tight, angry breath. There was an undeniable heat rising from her lungs, the bizarre warmth crawling up her stomach and trachea until she let out another breath. _Let this go_, she thought, the sensible side of her stepping up to soothe the frayed emotional edges of the child that wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong. _He's right. You can make this work. You just have to think it all out_.

It all took a couple more moments of silence but Stephanie was eventually able to bring herself back to an even keel. Centering herself as she made her way away from the empty room, she played back some of the many files stored in her own neural Rolodex that concerned Batman's advice as it came to unknown situations. Examine the clues that will allow you to ask questions that you already know much of the answer to. Find out about the things you're not sure yet and soothe out your frustrations about everything else. A clear mind is the first step on the path of discovering the answers to what muddled it in the first place. She remembered the words and why they were spoken and the moments of guidance that came before and after until she had wound her way back to the bridge where Toren and the other Lanterns awaited her.

"What you're looking at is the largest artificial solar entity in the cosmos, ladies and gentleman," Toren began as Stephanie and the rest of the Lanterns were privy to the sight of Solur from a distance of nearly 600,000 kilometers. "This is a project unlike any other, an attempt fashioned by commercial and industrial empires throughout the surrounding nebulae to sustain one of the foremost agricultural and commercial settings there has ever been. Its diameter is nearly twice that of Oa itself and produces enough astrophysical force that it can properly substitute for the system's sun that collapsed nearly two centuries ago. Of course, given all the energy that is produced by the synthetic solar flares and sun spots, most would consider Solur to be outside of the usual list of criminal hideaways."

Stephanie was only vaguely paying attention to Toren's description of their future battleground. She'd never claim to possess Lloyd's enthusiasm as it came to exploring all there was that the planet Earth had to offer or Kara's curiosity when it came to, well, anything that she could find out more about after spurring her nosiness through her hours spent reading away in the various day chambers of Wayne Manor. She had stopped counting the number of times she had swallowed a mild mouthful of guilt after refusing Lloyd's invitations to travel to Falkirk or the inner recesses of The Sahara or wherever the hell he wanted to go on that particular day. Oh, and there would be times when she felt that she was going to gnaw off her bottom lip after having to deal with the mild twinge of remorse when Kara would ask her to soar to the dark side of the moon or to make their way down as close as they could to the surface of the sun but she would always be a fighter and adventurer first and an explorer at the very last. Still, this particular sight managed to intrigue her as they hurtled ever closer to it, the blindingly golden flame so encompassing that there was a moment in Stephanie's mind when nothing else seemed to exist. The mammoth sphere was surrounded by plumes of molten rock that had been shot so high from the surface that they briefly managed to escape Solur's gravity for a moment until it was inevitably pulled back down, the bizarre phenomenon presenting an undulating tide of continuous physics that she couldn't even begin to grasp.

_At least I know enough to know that we're the ones getting yanked in by the gravity here, _Robin thought as Toren handed out crew assignments with his booming vocal delivery. _How __**do **__I get involved of these things anyway?_

* * *

_Katina – Four years and three months before the present time_

This was unlike anything she had ever seen before. There wasn't a common criminal or C-level Batvillain that could have created the kind of chaos that was around her. There was no glorious shot of a hero rushing into the fray of battle through hell and high water that could have prepared her for the heat of the cannon rounds and the explosions that seemed to crash right down on top of her. Now the mere notion that a newspaper clipping telling the tale of a battlefield thousands of miles away could ever prepare her for the end results of those activities that brought those stories into fruition, that stench of annihilated building material and the smoking vulgarity of scorched bodies, was positively disgraceful to even consider. The air was alive with screams calling for order, for structure, for assistance, even pleas for mercy or entreaties to some deity that would never be foolish enough to interfere in something so profoundly unruly. The only way Stephanie could keep herself sane was to believe that she was all just part of a game. There was nothing else she could think of that could prevent her fear from overriding her will and leaving her powerless and plummeting helplessly to the ground to join the hundreds upon thousands who wouldn't live to see another day.

"Do you see how the encroachers from so many other worlds would impugn my just rule, citizens of Katina! Look upon their aggression, fueled by fear, and know that the cause of your leader is just. My reign brought about an era of peace and prosperity that has never been known before throughout our recorded history and that calm was acquired through the sacrifice of those who were too mired in their ego to conduct themselves in a manner that was good and just for our society as a whole! Fight them back, my people! Repel them with all of your indomitable will!"

As Jutalnak's broadcasted words roared through the dozens of speakers that lined the streets of the capital, Stephanie felt rather safe with believing that the mechanized warriors that clustered around her squad had little vested interest in protecting the legacy of the fallen. As she zigged and zagged her way around cannon fire that was potent enough to shred through the barriers of some of her surrounding colleagues, she wondered how many of them were simply mercenaries? Were any of them soldiers of Katina with a vested interest in keeping their boss in power? And were they just about money or was it about strength and conviction? It was impossible to believe that at least some of those creatures within those 20-foot high mecha believed their cause to be just and maybe they were right. Maybe it was wrong that her superiors had just decided that a planet needed to be taken over.

But righteousness and judgment rarely ever lasted long on the mind of a soldier on a battlefield and the same held true for Stephanie Brown. More importantly, at least for her, this wasn't what she had dreamed about as a child. This wasn't what she had signed on for. She didn't claw her way out of the grave to allow her story to go the way it was going.

What happened next was a series of events whose exact progression were lost even to the woman who spurred them into being, the rumors and reports and legends nearly just as varied as the creatures that were willing to speak of them. It was fairly certain that the first event was the instance of Stephanie's body becoming suddenly surrounded by a concussive cacophony of emerald energy that tossed aside a handful of Jutalnak's troopers as if they were dust mites within a tornado. She then soared upward with a bellowing scream, her body little more than a streak of light that crashed into and through every mechanized warrior it could find. Some of the survivors on either side said that the sight was enough to inspire the remaining rebelling Katinans to take the fight to their opponent with renewed energy while a smaller number even claimed that the entire display was enough to frighten some of the Lanterns and mercenaries into a shocked stillness. A scant few even stated that some of Oa's troopers even managed to meet their demises as a result of failing to get out of the way in time but the only matter that Kilowog was interested in at the time was that his newest charge seemed ready to rush into the unknown and he was determined to follow.

Keeping his eyes out for anything that could interfere with the bizarre turn of events that began to unfold, Kilowog poured a slight portion of his energy into a burst of speed that would allow him to better keep track of the rampaging Earthling. He noticed other Green Lanterns follow his example, his fellow warriors perhaps encouraged by how simply their colleague had managed to dismantle what had been believed to be a significant portion of what had proved to be a fairly impressive military force. Continuing to think ahead, the trainer of hundreds of intergalactic peacemakers sifted through the connections of his own Oan power ring to contact the mission commander as he continued to pursue his student.

"We've managed to breach through the defenses on the eastern corner of the capital."

"We're still bogged down in the west and north!" Soranik Natu shouted back, the words of the Qwardian understandably blunted by the warfare around her. "There are still citizens in the central portion of the downtown district where Jutalnak has been making his broadcasts so get in there and do what you can to ensure their safety!"

"Do I have orders to terminate Jutalnak?" asked Kilowog, the veteran Lantern now following his student through such a dense traffic of laser fire and rubble that the nearest other Green Lantern was nearly 100 clicks behind.

"Negative, Kilowog!" Natu said urgently. "If Jutalnak is bold enough to stand in the middle of his wartorn capital then that means he's willing to be a martyr. We have to bring him into the spotlight and into a trial so that we can present him for the monster he is."

_Try not to make it sound that simple_, Kilowog would remember thinking as Jutalnak's personal battle mecha came within sight. The massive hulk of machinery was twice the size of the vessels that were assigned to defend it and sported an impressive array of plasma turrets and missile launchers that were doubtlessly enhanced versions of the same weaponry that had nearly pierced his defenses on a number of occasions. He thought it to be a challenge worth his mettle after having dismantled well over a dozen lesser opponents before it but Jutalnak's mercenaries were just as eager to wage war with an opponent that was strong enough to burst through the lines of the most dominant military force throughout The Farlyl Nebula. The blitzkrieg of cannon fire that awaited him was doubtlessly impressive, so much so that the sole survivor of the Bolovax Vix thought that his survival would become an unlikely possibility but he managed to evade the brunt of it and skitter about the perimeter until the other Lanterns of his unit could manage to catch up. Within moments the battle was roaring back to its full earnestness, Death become eager to claim its possessions from both sides of the theater of war, and Kilowog finally lost track of the unstoppable flash of energy that had been Stephanie Brown.

As for Stephanie herself, her own memories of the battle that claimed the lives of nearly 600 Green Lanterns were depressingly sketchy. The doctors that examined her would attribute much of the losses to her severe concussion, a case of cranial hematoma, and a punctured lung while Kilowog and other notable Lanterns would chalk it up to the Earthling simply becoming lost in the fervor of war and the sheer potency of the supernatural energy that flowed through her body. Still, regardless of what brought about the holes in her recollections, Stephanie had no problems remembering the painful impact against the building that had once served as an undercover base for those that were rebelling against Jutalnak's blood-soaked reign. She had been forced back by a pulse blast that had glanced against the right side of her stomach and the power of it was enough to propel her into the building so quickly that she tore apart the very foundation of the four-story construction. Her ears rang with the trauma to her back and skull but it wasn't enough to hide the screams of those that were trapped inside along with her as the world seemed to fall onto their ears. Her ring focused purely on ensuring her own survival, so much so that she would be the only one to emerge from the rubble alive. The other 72 creatures inside the building, much of them children whose escape was unable to be ensured when Jutalnak's cleansing began in earnest, were left to add their broken, mangled bodies to the pile of useless loss.

"More death! More suffering!" Jutalnak roared, his words embedding into Stephanie's long-term memory despite the chaos around her. "It is you who are to blame for the blood of the innocents that coats my streets, you despotic scum! What gives you the right to interfere in the lives of those that seek order and structure! Who are you to say that your own judgment is capable of superseding that who is born to guide their people?"

Again, Stephanie Brown was simply tired of everything. She didn't want to be hurt and she didn't want others to hurt and she was tired of people dying. She poured every ounce of energy that remained in her ring into her body, her vitals suddenly feeling as if they were bursting at the seams. The former Robin and Spoiler responded by blocking everything out save for the sound of Jutalnak's words and soared toward the despotic murderer. The battery of fire and plasma flung her way was significant but she managed to avoid it all, the student nimbly employing her acquired skills and instincts to anticipate where the shots would go and what she needed to do to avoid being in their path. Her energy claws sliced through the duranium arms of the gargantuan battle mecha at their massive joints, first the left arm then the right plummeting to the ground spilling sparks and oil on the rubble-strewn battleground.

Stephanie felt that her eyes were melting away from the intensive heat of her surrounding barrier but she continued to hunt through the blood and pain. With the bulk of the mecha's offensive abilities removed by the cleaving of its upper limbs, it was only a matter of time before the embittered Green Lantern had hacked away at the legs of the automated beast until the massive chunks of metal were forced to flatly crash to the ground and leaving the torso to plummet alongside it. There was an intensive heat and electrical shield that attempted to prevent her from retrieving her prize but that impediment only provided another few entries on the growing list of injuries as she sunk her energy claws into the doorway until her knuckles met the burning metal. The flames were just sloughing off her forearms as she yanked away the final barrier with a shout, her feet finally finding solid ground as she stomped into the cockpit. Backhanding the indignant Jutalnak off of his seat with a swipe of her left claw, she couldn't help but relish the smell of burning fur and blood as it was accompanied by the murderer's howl.

Stephanie did not need Kilowog's instruction to figure out how to kill without the aid of her ring but she would not allow the rage to overcome her. The Batman would have seen that justice be done and his student would make certain that she would do the same.

* * *

Relief had long proven itself to be a powerful narcotic and this old axiom continued to reign true as Katina and its people struggled to recover from the short but violent final charge of their peoples' revolution. Even Stephanie found some delirium in the celebrations despite all the loss that she had endured and witnessed and felt no regret taking every bit of it in. Hundreds of Katinians had looked upon her with wonderment or fear but the bulk of the responses to her presence was that of gratefulness.

She was a hero. The truth of the matter was almost a frightening thing to consider now that the once mythical matter was finally staring her in the face. The whole thing drew enough direction to her that she slowly became more comfortable with it all as the hours of celebration continued on. As the fervor died down, she even managed to find hints of relief as she watched others spend their own time in the lime light. She watched as some of her fellow Lanterns were surrounded by grateful citizenry thanking them for their bravery. Blue-furred children ran about the streets as their parents looked on, the adults grateful that they at least had some remaining connections to a world without war while making sure to keep a watchful eye despite all the available distractions.

_I'm so happy to help give them this_, Stephanie thought, the young Green Lantern finding herself astonished that her thoughts would travel in such a direction. _I wish that all the loss didn't have to come before it but I'm glad that it's over now. These people can rebuild. _

Stephanie heard the sound of footsteps behind her and the boisterous voice that accompanied the trodding instantly informed her of what was to come. Gardem Drawq, the outspoken leader of the rebels that had provided an inspirational voice in the wake of Jutalnak's many atrocities, had been quite enthusiastic as it came to thanking her for allowing them to bring Jutalnak to justice. The noble-looking gentleman with his high forehead and starkly pale blue skin and sharp, small eyes that reminded Stephanie of a squinting owl seemed to have no trouble traveling and dealing with one hectic activities after the other and it seemed that there was enough of a lull in the goings-on that he had found her once again. She felt the creature's slender arm warp around her shoulder and smiled as the strapping gentleman let out another laugh while ruffling her hair with his long, webbed fingers.

"So are you still so keen to thank Kilowog for training you to be the hero you are this day or has the fire of our libations loosened your tongue?" Drawq asked, his thick lips seemingly hovering near Stephanie's ear. Letting out another loud laugh before Stephanie could respond, the lifelong militia man and former member of Jutalnak's private guard kept a hand on the Earthling even while moving to his left amidst the crowd that surrounded him. "Well, it seems that you are still to be considered the hero of the day, Bolivaxian."

"There are worse labels to have," replied the veteran Lantern, the porcine warrior not looking nearly as enthusiastic as his host or as cowed as his student. "Still, with all due respect, I would like my charge to receive some additional medical attention."

"Ah! The girl is fine! She said so herself!" Drawq exclaimed while drawing Stephanie closer to his grip. "She has been examined by our doctors and they have found that her ring will allow her to recover from her wounds with time. And this is not the time for the hero of Katina to be lying in a hospital bed!"

Stephanie had wanted to say something with all the responses looming around her but she found that too much still lay in the way. She was tired and distracted but overjoyed and charged and the whole concoction was enough to distract her thoughts until another pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned into the chest of the familiar presence, the hair on the left side of her head bunching up against the contours of Kyle's chest as the former illustrator swept her up.

"Well, that's a hell of a way to finish your first mission as a Green Lantern," Rayner exclaimed as he placed Stephanie back down. He took a moment to examine his fellow Earthling as closely as he could given the distractions of the surrounding crowd and found that he wasn't too certain about what he found. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"She most certainly is not," Kilowog said brusquely while pushing his way through the crowd, the bulky warrior shouldering Drawq and some of his more determined followers aside before taking a firm grasp of Stephanie's shoulder. His snout flared with the distressing news that he quickly found. "Shame on you, little poozer. Looks like that I'm going to have to teach you that the needs of the many don't always outweigh the needs of the few."

"Why? What's going on?" asked Rayner, the concern of the Earthling arousing only a slight degree of attention as Stephanie seemed to collapse against Kilowog. "Woah. Okay. Give us some room, everybody!"

"She is still losing blood," Kilowog noted, his thick fingers hovering over the oozing wound on Stephanie's abdomen. "Poor girl has been using her ring to try and patch up the damage but she's been at it for too long. She's not going to be able to keep this up."

"Just help me to resolve a simple matter before you all depart. The unified force of Katina would like to ask our hero if she would like to provide some words of inspiration. Perhaps even a statement of endorsement that would aid its future governing bodies in providing order amidst the surrounding confusion."

"Back off, Drawq," Kilowog said with a growl, the angry warrior making an effort to avoid any strain to his cargo as he hefted the unconscious Stephanie into his massive arms. "Your hero don't have any more room for all your talk."

"Oh, but I believe she has," Drawq said calmly, the leader extending his arms wide as he continued to provide the lone voice of serenity in the surrounding confusion. "After all, is it not her duty as a member of The Green Lantern Corps to serve as an inspiration so long as her light shines so brilliantly? Or has it already become too bright for the liking of your precious Guardians? Tell me, Kilowog. Are you even now still warring with the temptation to snuff out your student's soul under the behest of your masters?"

"Okay. What the hell is going on here," Kyle Rayner asked he looked from one deadly serious party to the next. "Look, there's already enough confusing stuff going on right now so how about we all just. . ."

Fatigued as he was, Kyle was a hint slower than he should have been as a blinding light invaded his eyes and warped his ocular membranes. Precious seconds were needed for him to recover but his ears were still able to take in not just the clamoring noise of the crowd but the anguished grunt of Kilowog. Still struggling to focus even as his brain began to put two and two together, the young warrior rushed forward on unsteady limbs as he dove into the pool of purplish-black light only moments before it shut.

"You weren't invited to this discussion, Rayner," a cold voice announced to the weary Lantern even as the owner of it proceeded to lay into the woozy Earthling with a series of harsh strikes delivered with surgeon-like precision. "Honestly. One must wonder how the people of Earth have managed to stay standing under the weight of their hubris."

Abandoning the appearance of the animated rebel leader as he beat Rayner into unconsciousness, the master of the pocket of dimensional space that now surrounded the three Lanterns took a brief moment to examine his handiwork in full. Then, not wishing to waste any more time, he circulated a portion of energy from the yellow ring on his finger to emit a current of eldritch electric energy that would soon rouse his intended guest from her delirium.

"Time for you to awaken, Stephanie Brown," Sinestro gently ordered his patient as he watched over the fair-haired Green Lantern. "For I am sure you will find that this appointment is one long overdue."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

This is one of those author's notes where there are a whole bunch of things that I _could _write about but none of them are really calling out to me enough to focus on them in full.

Should I really put so much effort into complaining about The X-Men apparently deciding to put all their faith and hope in The Phoenix, a force that wiped out an entire solar system and brought hell into their lives time and time again? Nah. That's just a case of writers being lazy about everything except making certain that The X-Men have a reason to have a big brouhaha with The Avengers so they can try and sell a bunch of comics.

Should I care that Silver Sable, one of my favorite comic book characters as a kid, was killed just to bring meaning and importance into a Spider-Man story arc that was supposed to be epic but instead ended up like just another story? Nah. The latest Spider-Man movie will inevitably warp Peter's character just like the last three have and this stuff will eventually all be forgotten.

Should I care that I no longer have any interest in reading Batman comics? Nah. Because doing that would mean that I would be putting effort into explaining why I'm not and that would just defeat the purpose of my perfectly good nihilism.

Ah well. Just keep plugging ahead in your own little worlds, guys and gals. Feel free to drop a line if what I write helps move you along in the right direction too!

* * *

_Issue #142 Preview_

Man, it's like we've got The Sinestro Corps War all over again! First we've got a whole bunch of Green Lanterns trying to track down Leokar Kurkosaw on an arid hellhole and now the purple man with the high forehead has finally made its presence felt. So if Stephanie's valiant act as hero of Katina wasn't what marked her in the eyes of The Guardians then what does? Oh, and does the author's mention of The Sinestro Corps War possibly be a clue as to what surprises Kurkosaw has waiting on Solur.

Nah. I wouldn't be that lazy. Or would I?

Find out some answers and get a few more questions in the next installment of _The Misfits: _The Glory of Constant Warfare. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	142. The Glory of Constant Warfare

Issue #142

The Glory of Constant Warfare

_Solur – Present time_

The 14 Green Lanterns that descended as closely as they could to the surface of the artificial sun could barely begin to divvy out assignments before they were set upon by forces that were more than eager to rip them apart. It was an uncommon occurrence for Oa's soldiers to be caught unawares with the supernatural awareness bequeathed to them through their rings and the only excuse that any of them could make on this exception was the fact that the life signs of the enormous creatures that rose up to assault them were all but blunted by the sheer breadth of the jagged carapaces that surrounded their massive chests. As for Earth's donation to the effort, Stephanie sought to pick up what little information she could gather while hurtling around, over and under not only the plumes of lava that continued to rocket up from the surface of their battlefield but also the enormous pincers of the mantis-like creatures that were somehow rising from the magma. Standing nearly 300 feet tall from the tips of the toes of their gigantic feet to the rigid horns that sprouted from their pointed skulls, the monsters could somehow build up enough momentum from the titanically wide crimson wings at their back and shoulders that they were able to take to the sky in pursuit of the galactic peacekeepers.

"Just what the hell am I supposed to be looking at?" Robin asked more to herself than any of her comrades while effortlessly putting on a burst of speed that allowed her to tackle a fellow Green Lantern before she could be torn in two by the maw of one of the massive monsters. "Is _this _what Elephant Man has been cooking up down here? Some kind of freaky bioweapons?!"

"_These monstrosities may be able to fly but they can't possibly beat us in speed and maneuverability!" _Graf Toren reminded his beleaguered brethren through the neural link that united the regiment of supernaturally-powered soldiers. _"Focus on getting out of the immediate line of fire before starting to look for a way to punch through their armor." _

Stephanie briefly found herself flying in between the trooper she rescued and another streak of green before two more of the rising beasts compelled them to scatter. She managed to dodge the hook-shaped claws that sought to flay her into bits but her neighbor to the right wasn't so fortunate and was torn apart in an instant. Gritting her teeth, the fair-haired Gothamite continued to surge westward even as emerald energy constructs and pulse bolts began to explode around her, the former Spoiler already so eager to find a way to dig deep into the ensuing battle that she just became that much more determined to find a way to do so and still come back alive. After reaching a point where there wasn't an enemy within half a mile of her, she came about sharply and sifted through the chaos. The first bit of salient data she gathered was from observing how the attacks of her fellow Lanterns seemed to scatter uselessly against the armored torso of the massive creatures and ricochet off the smooth plates that surrounded their skulls. Wishing to further test her theory, she rushed back into the fray and met the closest opponent with a spiraling shot of energy that managed to dig nearly a foot into the target's carapace before she primed the energy burst to explode in a blinding flash.

"_Well, at least I've learned about a more efficient way to piss it off," _Stephanie humbly observed even as she managed to easily zig and zag away from the angry swipes of her victim's colossal claws. _"Still, something this big with defenses that focused has got to have some kind of weak spot. Maybe the base of the wings. . ." _The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns immediately strove to test her theory with another barrage of shots only to find that her successfully hit target garnered no better results other than slowing it down for a heartbeat.

"_Nope. Okay. Got to keep thinking about this," _Stephanie thought with dogged determination even as a second Green Lantern fell to the might of their seven opponents. _"So I'm making some kind of a creature feature that's the size of a condo with enough armor around the head and chest to ward off a Green Lantern. I'm building these things so that they can deal with veteran warriors. . . most likely those that have experience in the air. So if I was going to have to deal with an Achilles heel then where would I put it?"_

The hours spent training with Kara, Kilowog and Lloyd in the field of aerial combat allowed Robin to keep a cool head even as her surroundings were covered further and further in massive limbs and escalating panic. She even managed to notice Graf Toren parrying away a strike with his web-like energy barrier until her flight plan was cut off by another massive swipe of a pincer. Finding herself slightly entranced by her latest brush with death, she felt a sudden inspiration bubbling within her infamous instincts and she waited patiently for the creature to swing its massive hand back at her.

"_Seems kind of easy, now that I think about it. Just put it in a place that only a stupid person would look."_

Stephanie bent her neck sharply along with the rest of her as she slid under the swipe of the creature's claws at an angle that allowed her to fire a pulse bolt underneath the large strips of armor that covered the long pincer. The Gotham-based Robin was rewarded with her patience by the anguished cry of her target and she involuntarily flashed her teeth as noticeable gaps began to slide away from the thick shell surrounding the creature's heart. The spiraling beam that erupted from her right ring and index finger was created with a familiar thought and the sharp beam of solid light easily punched through the monstrosity's vulnerable core.

"_Hey, Giraffie! Do you see what I see?"_

Graf Toren, eager to provide a response to his scurrilous second-in-command, allowed his opponent's massive left arm to become ensnared in his emerald web before blasting away at the apparent soft spot underneath the creature's wrists. _"We've only got a limited window to put these beasts down!" _the commander roared to his company while he punished his opponent with a pulse bolt that wasn't quite as flashy as Stephanie's spiraling beams but still just as effective. _"Be smart about picking your shot and don't take one if you don't think you can afford to miss."_

The dozen surviving Lanterns all went to their tasks as they had been trained to do, the determined galactic officers once again demonstrating the skill and technique that had made them a force to be recognized throughout the cosmos. A handful of scratches and burns were added to the inventory of the group's injuries as the troopers worked towards their purpose but it only took a handful of frenetic minutes before the other magma-spawned beasts were put down into the scalding muck that they had risen from. A small, prideful part of Stephanie wanted to be the lone Lantern to be responsible for launching a second killing blow in the battle but that petty need was soon put aside as she joined Toren in making certain that none of their fellow soldiers found themselves in too much of harm's way, the little Earthling buzzing about the perimeter and blasting away at armored forearms and skulls while her comrades continued to search for more profitable shots. Even the junior member of the squadron managed to get in a good lick as a trio of Lanterns blasted the weak spot of the last beast standing with such intensity that the armor around its torso began to fall off in massive chunks. Apparently choosing to steel his courage, Private Orderlyn barreled through the expansive gaps in the ribcage of his opponent to slice open the central ventricles of the creature's heart. Emerging from the plummeting wreckage, Stephanie's former one-time partner was mildly soaked in blood yet still clearly buoyed by his success as Toren commanded them to assemble in the center of the dead theater of war.

"That's just the start of it, people. We have to track down Kurkosaw's base of operations and either confiscate his holdings or get a good idea about what he's still capable of. Lieutenant Sirora, have you managed to centralize the reading from the _Justimara's _elemental scanner."

Sirora, an indigo-skinned, six-legged Volusian that just happened to be the Lantern whom Stephanie had bowled over in order to rescue, was already surrounded by a myriad of spectral screens that listed charts that Stephanie could only scantily understand. "Yes, Colonel Toren. The most significant reading of Karbarran mineral strain compounds is still centralized around the second largest facility on the planet. It is a radiation processing plant about 150 miles north by northwest."

The surrounding spirals of molten rock that continued to spit up from the ground seemed to make Toren's skin give off a golden glow as the commander rose back to the head of the pack. "All right. I have the location. Form up on me and proceed to the facility! Double time!"

* * *

_Four years and four months before the present time_

Stephanie awakened to see whatever scraps of security that she had been able to find in her new world either lost from sight or shattered before her eyes. Forced to face down the orchestrator of the bedlam, her pain-wobbled senses struggled to focus on the Qwardian's imposing presence and that was when she began to asphyxiate. Her heartbeat accelerated from a steady beat into a series of frantic flutters as her overwhelming fear began to weaken the connection she held with the Oan power ring on her finger, the source of her protection against the vacuum around her. She was back to being the ordinary girl who could never get the best grades, never kept the connections to the world she wanted to hold onto and that lingering failure only emboldened her trepidation again and again.

The condescension was obscenely present within Sinestro's countenance as he easily expanded the golden aura around his body to envelop the young Earthling. His left hand continuing to be suffused within the supernatural glow of his ring, he briefly ran the long fingers of his right hand across his face as his calloused fingertips briefly skimmed across the short hairs of his moustache and ran along the bottom of his hook-like nose. His high forehead arched as he watched the object of his intention struggle to retain her faculties, the beloved dictator momentarily curious concerning why such a seemingly diminutive creature would draw such attention amidst those who could manipulate the very cosmos. Then, remembering his purpose, the former bastion of The Green Lantern Corps concentrated on supplying his young guest with the vigor and vitality that she would need to sow up her wounds to the point where she was available for an even conversation.

"Has Kilowog simply not gotten around to telling you of the importance of understanding one's fear? There is no crime for the occasional reservation but it becomes an offense when you allow it to overwhelm your thoughts. You lost control over the power handed down to you by those vainglorious Guardians because you chose to hide away your apprehension rather than challenge it. Be fortunate that someone with this kind of knowledge was here to ensure your safety."

There was little doubt that Stephanie would have said something back if she wasn't desperately attempting to get air back into her lungs. Instead she could only let out a short series of coughs that eventually began to gain greater volume as her blood began to flow back through her throat muscles once again. Her sight recovered and the spots that swam in front of her eyes faded away before she finally managed to let her thoughts be stated with a snarl as she immediately began searching for any weakness; for any kind of a way out.

"You're looking for a way to escape with Rayner, aren't you?" asked Sinestro, the savvy battle veteran continuing to hold court even as he stretched his left arm so that his fist was held well behind his back. An unspoken command summoned a portal that pulsated with the richest shades of white, a downright gorgeous contrast to the dank, inky blackness of the surrounding infinity of anti-matter. Casually retrieving Hal Jordan's replacement with his free hand, Sinestro tossed the ailing Rayner through the portal only a moment before the threshold closed shut once again. "Perhaps that will allow you to concentrate on the matter at hand."

Her voice finally returned, Stephanie let out an unsure breath from the confines of Sinestro's energy cocoon. "What? You're looking for an employee referral to get your old job back? I've heard about you! You worked for The Corps before you got thrown out on your ass and you get everybody all nervous and scared whenever you come to Earth because you're a homicidal prat who wants to build up his kingdom in Lollipop Land or whatever you call it."

"Such an eloquent debater," Sinestro said shrewdly with a smirk to match. "Very well. Would you feel better if I mentioned how much I know of you, Miss Brown? I am aware that your body materialized within the central core of Oa only minutes after your physical demise, a feat that has prompted the Guardians to become very leery of whether you should be determined either a savior to be exploited and wasted like a toy or a potential threat that must be brought to slaughter."

Stephanie somehow felt her parching throat grow even drier. "So you read the papers then?" she managed to get out with barely a whit of wavering. "Maybe you should focus less of your attention on the front page and more of it on the pharmacy advertisements. Y'know, try and find something that can work out all the wrinkles on that big ass forehead? Perhaps a little tincture that could make your moustache look a little less creepy."

Sinestro tutted while shaking his head back and forth. "Such displays of arrogance are so easy to see through, child. It was something I saw from the Council time and again and I didn't need to be responsible for the training of Hal Jordan to realize that The Guardians have never had any idea with what to do with the people of your planet. For nearly four billion years the creatures of your planet muddled about in the dredges of evolution and yet it took only a fraction of that time for your people to ascend more rungs of the hierarchical ladder than that has rarely ever been seen in history. The lost civilization of Krypton entrusted your planet to care for their two remaining survivors and the Earth is the first planet to hold three, perhaps now four, memberships within The Green Lantern Corps. Darkseid wishes to take possession of your potential. The names of Alexander Luthor and Bruce Wayne are tossed about in hushed, reverent tones within even the farthest corners of the galaxy and still The Council of Oa makes no effort to truly understand what you are meant to accomplish."

"Look. I don't want to accomplish anything!" insisted Stephanie. "I don't even want to fight you. I don't _care _about whatever the hell you're trying to do here!"

Sinestro couldn't help but laugh and it came out with unrestrained derision and scorn. "Oh, how the Council must appreciate having such a wonderful puppet at their beck and call. Still, even they must now know of the wisdom of collecting such boons if they want the slightest chance of keeping themselves relevant in the times to come. After all, we speak of the future of your new home as Rann and Thangaar continue to scale into ever higher echelons of financial and industrial success. Apokolips, Sostegaria, and Ivalia all grow stronger by the day while Katina, long a bastion of The Corps's relevancy in intergalactic matters, will fall because the antiquated dinosaur that represents them would prefer doing what will deem them noble rather than be those that would be responsible for ensuring the safety of billions."

"We just _saved _Katina! And, what, do you think that just lording it over billions of people is that much better?" Stephanie snapped back, the young Green Lantern trainee betraying the image of being deprived of knowledge. "You call yourself the ruler of an entire fucking planet and you back up that claim by being a murdering monster!"

"A 'monster' whose beloved home is on the verge of achieving a state of sociopolitical success that has never been seen throughout all its recorded history," Sinestro gamely countered. "Ah, but now you have revealed that you know more of me than what you let on at the start. I suppose then that it is only fair that I relinquish the information I withheld from you in return. I have taken a bit of liberty in learning more about you before orchestrating this encounter, Stephanie Brown. I know of your dismal rise to maturation and I have learned of your errors and that has provided me with enough information to realize that you could be doing so much more. Your will is powerful, let there be no doubt of that, but every ounce of it is governed by your fear and that force is too potent for a creature of my design to ignore."

"You don't know shit about me, Grape Ape."

Sinestro tilted his neck as a twinkle emerged from his beetle-black eyes. "You fear of failing those whose respect you wish to earn and that provides you with the will to succeed. You fear losing those few souls that let you into their hearts and allow you to do the same in return and do whatever you can to keep them closer to you. You are so terrified of being abandoned after your first, minute taste of success that you were willing to sacrifice over a thousand lives for the merest opportunity to gain back a fraction of the attention taken away from you." Each statement was punctuated with bold notes of dark sincerity that increased in magnitude with each passing secret until the leader of Qward was on the verge of roaring. "You could have killed this Roman Sionis, this preener who subjected you to the greatest thresholds of physical torment that you had ever imagined, yet you were so fearful of how that act would make you appear in the eyes of those you love that you willed yourself to silence your instincts. Your fear of taking a life from the trepidation of how others would disapprove your actions willed you to surrendering your own!"

Stephanie's ears were rattling. Her body was quivering from the odd compound of anger and fear but yet her trembling body was completely devoid of the emerald aura that had surrounded her throughout the entire length of the battle to retake Katina.

Sinestro looked upon the product of his truth and smiled.

"Are you still so certain of how potent your fear could be?"

* * *

Robin didn't like the feeling of what was going on around her. She didn't like it one bit and the whole thing continued to stew as she had taken up the rear guard on the way to Kurkosaw's suspected base and that reservation only built up in the minute or so it took for the powerful assemblage to arrive at their destination. There was nothing along the perimeter of the radiation plant that set off any of her instinctual alarms. No guards or hellish beasts but merely a cluster of several hundred solar panels designed to collect the near boundless energy housed within Solur's flares and transfer it into waves of energy that could be safely distributed throughout the entire Farlyl system. The sheer science of it was enough to make Stephanie's head hurt and thus she focused more on the facility itself, a seemingly common-looking building lined along the assemblage of gravity platforms floating several thousand feet above the surface that allowed physical structures and facilities to exist within the blistering hot temperatures of the lone artificial sun within 20 galaxies.

_It's quiet. Too quiet. _ Stephanie couldn't help but think before she slapped her forehead in exasperation. _Oh, good gravy. I can't believe I just said that._

"There's only one life signature within that entire facility and it belongs to Kurkosaw!" Toren announced as the other Lanterns swallowed the surrounding bits of information. "Use extreme caution, people."

Stephanie had taken great pains to make certain that the gifts of her ring completely overwhelm the gifts of her own eyes and ears. It was a lesson that a certain shrouded detective had wanted to stick in her active thoughts and the young Green Lantern took that inherited advice to heart as she ignored the absence of hostile presences and tired to focus on what was actually on the surface. Still, there was still no reasonable cause for alarm even as Toren blasted his way through the roof of the radiation plant before leading his troopers inside. There were no signs of unusual activity as the surrounding machinery continued to hum in an efficient sounding manner while cycling and redistributing the gathered astrophysical force that was constantly exploding from the sun's surface. The stockpile of Karbarran metal and minerals that lined the northwestern and southeastern corners of the complex looked as if they had not been touched for a great while.

The alarm bells in Robin's cerebral cortex took on a slightly louder drone as she and the other Lanterns descended to a gap in the center of the facility where Leokar Kurkosaw was seated. The bowed head of the former prison warden and deposed general of the deposed Sinestro Corps was all but covered from sight by a black beret-like hat and his elephantine trunk lay rested and coiled within his unmoving lap. Every bit of his attire, from the starched shirt and dress pants that were somehow large enough to cover his brawny, 775-pound frame, was yet another interpretation of the pristine police uniforms that he had reportedly worn on every day of his 23-year tenure as the coordinator of the acclaimed Scherazade prison facility. In fact, the only difference that Stephanie could see was that the small traces of gold and yellow that had been present in the few moments that she had met him on the battlefield were now completely eliminated, the scant lines of color seemingly consumed by the rest of the black thread.

"Leokar Kurkosaw, you are under arrest for high crimes against the people of Karbarra and injustices committed upon territory placed under the authority of The Green Lantern Corps," Toren announced as he and the surrounding Lanterns primed their weapons upon the tranquil criminal. "We have been approved to employ deadly force should you not comply."

Kurkosaw slowly lifted his head to meet the gaze of the intruders. "Death," he noted with a whispering mumble, his massive legs still folded snugly against one another even as he faced down a group with enough power to wipe out a class M planet within seconds. "Murder requires pride and belief that one's own life is more valuable than another, the will to abandon or ignore the rules of morality in the search for a greater foothold for their cause."

Stephanie looked down at the seemingly bottomless black pools of Kurkosaw's eyes and involuntarily hissed in a breath. The sinking feeling in her gut had a familiarity to it but she couldn't quite figure out where it came from. There was the will to see that justice was done and anger that vengeance needed to be had and the fear of whatever unknown variables that seemed to linger around them but none of it felt right. She couldn't quite get enough of a grasp of any of it.

"Will is your crime," Kurkosaw reported while rising up on his massive feet in spite of the silent warnings that exploded around him as he stood to his full height. "I will take your sins away from you."

The lingering aroma that Robin had yet to place suddenly became quite clear her as the stench intensified, almost as if it was swarming around them. There was decay and rot, pestilence and putrefaction. It was the same aroma that had accompanied her as she awakened in one of the most revered of Oa's magical centers after willing herself away from the grave. The onrush of motion was as instantaneous as it was intense and the shouts of surprise and shock that rose around her did little to blunt out Robin's alarm as she was suddenly waging war with a rotted but very active corpse. The creature's rancid, black and yellow teeth dripped some revolting combination of bile and other stomach acids as the sharp canines neared her throat and it took a hasty buildup of energy to break free from the vice-like grip.

"The hand is departed but its grip is never ceasing," Kurkosaw went on, his voice somehow carrying through the escalating bedlam. "It shall provide all that is assured to those who have yet to receive their decree. This shall be the catalyst of the unraveling."

Stephanie plunged the energy claw surging from her left hand straight through the forehead and skull of her aggressor. Another gasp escaped her lips as what one would have thought to be a fairly potent attack didn't seem to do anything at all as the nauseating monstrosity that had seemed to rise up from beneath the floors of the factory themselves continued to chase her as she flew throughout the facility's cluttered upper levels. She passed underneath a hanging walkway only a moment before a bolt of black energy crashed into the catwalk and shattered it with a whining tear of metal. Having earned a fraction of a second from the unexpected circumstance, Stephanie hurriedly took advantage of the opening and blasted aside her pursuer with a wave of emerald energy.

"What in the world is going on here? And why are they acting like Green Lanterns?"

"Those who have evaded judgment will be adjudicated by those who have accepted their divine privilege," Kurkosaw continued on, his deep intonations continuing to reverberate in every ear in spite of the frenzy of the battle. "What once was designed to bind me will now be the source of my ascendency."

It was only by a stroke of luck that Stephanie was close enough to Private Orderlyn to keep him from having his skull caved in by a midnight-black spectral sledgehammer. Drilling the attacker with another spiraling beam, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns made certain that the energy behind her attack was enough to push her victim back. If anything else, her continued sustaining of the shot was an insurance policy for the very real possibility that a complete annihilation of her target's heart wouldn't be enough to keep Kurkosaw's servant down.

"Repugnant animal!" Toren roared, the Karazian channeling his righteous anger towards constructing a web of energy that was enough to keep two of his other opponents at bay as he focused on the apparent orchestrator. "You are employing sorcery to commit travesties on our fallen brethren."

Kurkosaw appeared to not be alarmed in the slightest. The former warden had taken significant liberties to keep his right hand from view and, upon unveiling both those weighty digits and the obsidian ring that served as their centerpiece, delivered a grim smile before unleashing a torrent of black energy tendrils at the veteran Corps member.

"Faith is your offense, Graf Toren," Kurkosaw unnecessarily informed his antagonist while continuing to push back the Green Lantern's attempts to ward off death. "You place your will and belief in entities that have no place in logic and follow false gods as a sheep. I will provide you with the certainty you speak, wayward soul. I shall confine you so that nothing of yours can escape thee."

Judging from how steadily Kurkosaw's energy seemed to shrink away at Toren's defenses, there didn't appear to be any reason to believe that he was wrong.

* * *

"This is a fight that you can't possibly win. The one thing that you must do to ensure your survival is to keep an open ear and yet you still resist."

Stephanie could feel that the blood had stopped trickling from the hole in the right side of her abdomen. Her limbs were stiff from the loss of blood and an overwhelming sense of fatigue seemed all too eager to wash over her but she still managed to keep her stance. "Well, I left my first life as a stubborn little bitch. Don't see any reason not to be the same thing on the second go-round."

A flicker of annoyance passed through Sinestro's regal features before he quickly passed through it with an understanding nod. "Well, it is important to stay true to one's ideals, I suppose."

The attack came and Stephanie wasn't even capable of moving away in time. The golden beam of energy struck her full in the chest and the fractions of a second between realization and result left her mind riddled with thoughts. Would anyone tell her mother how she really died? What would Batman say if somebody told her that she went out a hero instead of a failure? When her little boy finally starting asking about his real mother she wondered about what other people would say. The potency of it all made it seem impossible that so much could rush into her head in such a tiny instant.

And, as one might have guessed, it turned out that it hadn't been just a fraction of a second. The moment kept on going and Stephanie was left a sputtering mess until Sinestro let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm healing you, you unbelievable twit," Sinestro said crossly as he continued to pour another small portion of his energy towards the task of restoring Stephanie. "There would be little point in humbling you if you were simply allowed to explain it away with complaints of exhaustion. Now, should you choose to do so, we will wage war on an even battlefield; Green Lantern against Yellow Lantern."

Stephanie measured Sinestro with an understandably cautious glare but made no effort to try and slip away from the unrelenting stream of golden energy. Sensing the thoughts behind the gesture, Sinestro fashioned a look of mocking surprise.

"Ah, but your Oan power ring is not capable of restoring another's physical strength, is it? Your puppet masters fashioned their strings well, haven't they? You can provide energy for others that may continue to do their bidding but are worthless when others require a touch of healing. Perhaps the infallible Council is already filling your head with the succulent idea that fear is only good for destruction and that will is the only way." Cutting away his connection with the young Green Lantern, Sinestro waited patiently as Stephanie found herself both physically and psychologically able to bring her full powers to bear. "Perhaps you remain unconvinced. Come then. Let us give a presentation of the worth of our philosophies."

Stephanie fashioned her energy claws in an instant and surged forward to start the game, the quick movement prompting Sinestro to raise his defenses. Well aware that there was little guessing the limits of what her opponent was capable of, the Green Lantern avoided going for any killing blows and went about with lashes and slashes aimed at the limbs. Strikes that would allow her to test her enemy's ability while keeping herself as safe as possible. She failed to garner any means of a successful strike as Sinestro darted away after a brief exchange before regarding her once again.

"So Kilowog has been making efforts to teach you of the Sortesu style of combat. It is a suitable approach for someone of your limited physical frame." The mental jab may have been a cheap shot but the grace and fluidity that Sinestro used to twist his longer arms into deflecting the next round of Stephanie's attacks was enough to prove him right. "And while you still display an exuberance and affection for battle you now have the patience to wait for the weaknesses of your opponent rather than simply presenting your own. I'm certain that Batman would be quite pleased by this drastic but necessary change in manner."

Of course, just as the insult was followed by a gesture of respect the compliment merely served as a warning shot for the indignity to come. Putting his forty years of combat experience into play, Sinestro forced his way through Stephanie's defenses with a violent offensive that displayed a skill in deep space combat that some have said to be second to none. He responded with such efficiency to the tics and slight alterations in gravity and weight distribution that it didn't even look as if he needed to think about it.

And he didn't have to think about it. After all, to waste time and energy into worrying over a controllable detail could leave an opening. And openings, be they miscues on the battlefield or gaps for his political and ideological foes that could chip away at his accumulated base of power, was what Sinestro truly feared.

Stephanie let out a tired huff as Sinestro relented and offered her the chance to recover, the young Green Lantern unconsciously wiping away a smudge of blood from a reopened cut on her upper lip. "Anybody ever tell you that you're really hung up on my old boss?"

"Perhaps that is because he is one of the few examples of humanity that any other creature would have any kind of interest in," Sinestro offered back just as casually, his arms now lowered to his sides in an almost mocking gesture. "It is quite the fascinating back story and motivation, after all. A child born of great privilege who loses his core emotional connection to the world due to an act of random violence but instead of devoting his life to the sin and debauchery that is so commonly associated with creatures of his class he devotes his life to attempt to ensure that those of lesser dispensations do not have to suffer the same loss. He even goes to great measures to create a public persona that exemplifies everything that nature wished for him to become and uses it as a form of private mockery. The whole thing is so intriguing that one might think that someone simply planned the entire tale."

Stephanie made a move to attack but Sinestro had already arrived before she could start to bridge the gap. The skittishness she tried so desperately to hide in the months she had worked to become a better fighter decided to emerge and she froze as her more experienced foe feinted at a roundhouse kick before launching a powerful punch to the abdomen that the former Spoiler only managed to block by a sliver of a second. Of course, that was all that took to put the Earthling on the defensive and keep her that way as Sinestro darted around Stephanie's comparatively feeble attempts to concoct a counterattack. The Qwardian chose to land several stern punches to the head, one of which cut Stephanie's lip open so harshly that the smear of crimson had run under the bottom of her nose, before being met with a flare of energy that he calmly allowed himself to be distracted by as his young charge backed away once again.

Sinestro was ready for another conversational exchange and almost found himself surprised as he was greeted by a scatter shot of energy bolts that forced him to devote to his defenses. The vast supply of energy bullets were impressively difficult to parry but the dictator hadn't become feared and respected through the cosmos merely through bluster and intimidation. His power was built through action and he demonstrated his prowess once again by intensifying the strength of the golden aura around his left hand and using the empowered limb to deflect each and every attack away. He briefly pondered over whether or not the girl had truly given in to her desperation so soon and was pleased to be greeted by a spiraling beam of emerald energy screaming its way towards his ring hand. Pouring a dose of his power into briefly enhancing his dexterity and reflexes, the amethyst-skinned authoritarian twisted away before the blast could connect and spirited his way backward to gain some space.

"You attempt to lull me into a false sense of security by pretending to pitch forward in a move of desperation so that you can have a better shot at impairing me," Sinestro observed, his darkly whimsical delivery prompting Stephanie to scowl with frustration. "Still, you must know by now that it will take more than such violent creativity to earn The Batman's forgiveness."

"Boy, you just really want to get into his Batpants, don't you?" Stephanie snapped back, the young prey growing more and more irritated with the golden force bubble that provided them with the oxygen that allowed their words to travel back and forth. She had long grown tired of enclosed and unwanted surroundings, after all. "I mean, I thought you told me that you went through all this trouble to drag me here and test me. If you just wanted Batman's phone number you could have just asked!"

"But I am here to test you, Stephanie Brown," Sinestro insisted while silently observing how the girl was focusing her energies on collecting and gathering her energy. "Circumstances have forced me to draw my attentions to the place of your birth and, given my long tenure as a Green Lantern, perhaps it is only natural that I focus my initial impressions on the thoughts of what were once my potential colleagues. Thusly I look at Bruce Wayne and see how Hal Jordan was so desperate to hide his inferiority away from a man that he could have destroyed with a thought. I see John Stewart, a professional in every sense of the word, looking upon one that he is supposed to be protecting from afar and regard him as an equal. Then I observe the fear of that ignoramus Gardner and how Rayner, the Council's latest favorite marionette, has become so desperate to curry the favor of this lone investigator and subsequently I am forced to ponder whether this person is worth some of my own time and attention."

The Qwardian swung his arms wide, daring Stephanie to strike him down with the power she had spent the last half-minute collecting. "And just look at yourself. You have the power of a god and are on the verge of becoming a protector of the cosmos and yet the only thing you care for is if your childhood hero will give you an ounce of his attention."

The emerald aura that had been growing around Stephanie let out a threatening thump. "I'm not a fool and I don't care what you think about what I'm doing," the Green Lantern fired back in a tone of defiance that prompted Sinestro to chuckle. "You don't get to judge me and you don't get to test me because you're nothing but a monster."

"Oh, it is true that I have a great deal of blood on my hands, little one," Sinestro allowed. "But your hands aren't as dry as you'd like them to be, are they? Perhaps if you survive this then you might be able to become more feared than I could ever hope to be."

Stephanie shouted her unknowing surrender even as she surged forward with all the speed she could muster. She lunged forward with a swipe of her claws and struck at a blur of purple and gold that proved to not even be close to her target. That manipulator had already swung around her and then she felt the long fingers of his left hand sliding against her stomach. She felt the heat at her back for an instant before her eyes were engulfed in a flash of energy as bright as the sun, the source of that light springing from Sinestro's ring before burning cleanly through her gut at a diameter of nearly a foot. There was no way for her to realize that the two lowest rows of her rib cage had been incinerated and what was left of her lungs was not even remotely capable of providing the oxygen needed for her to survive. All she could do was feel her life leaving her as she desperately gasped for air that wouldn't come.

"Shh, shh, child," Sinestro said softly, the murderer moving to cradle Stephanie like a fussing infant. "Focus on your desire for survival. You fear that your journey will come to a close before you can even attempt your desired destiny now channel the will that returned you from the grave and use that to strengthen your body and knit together the connections. This is within your power."

Stephanie couldn't hear. She couldn't think. The distinct possibility that her life was about to end, that everything she had fought so hard for was about to destroyed in a meaningless instant, was too frightening for her to deal with. That fear soon began to override the will and the power that she could draw from the Oan power ring began to falter once again. Seconds passed and her face was white as a sheet and her lips were taking on a distinct shade of blue.

Sinestro once again let out a sigh. "If you want to be an equal to your inspiration then you must learn to embrace your role just as fervently as him," he said with resign as he enveloped Stephanie's body in another circle of golden energy. "The Dark Knight must learn to place his knowledge, his belief in the hands of those that will have the power to make his impossible goal a near reality. He cannot fight the battles that he knows that the future holds and he must rely on his students. . . his _champions_, to do so in his stead. You could be one of those poor, noble souls if you weren't so focused on the fear that you may fail. To remain as you are now would only turn you into the greatest monster that you'll ever know."

Pain suddenly flooded the Qwardian's senses as his powerful eyes were rendered useless by a detonation of light that forced him to abandon his intentions of healing the dying Earthling. Recovering in a matter of seconds, Sinestro let out a breath as he bore witness to little more than an animal, a brute whose body was enveloped in tangible sheets of energy, a collage of green, yellow, and crimson, that exploded outward and shattered the barrier he had kept around the battlefield. He felt a spike of pain from the neural trauma as blood began to rise up from his throat but he employed another form of fear, the dread of failing to fulfill his end of this pivotal bargain, to steady himself.

_And thus I meet The Emerald Light_, Sinestro mused to himself as the uncontrollable barrage rushed to meet him.

* * *

Stephanie cleaved the last soldier between her and Toren in two and didn't bother to attempt to stop and see if the move counted as a killing blow. The Karazian had been instrumental in organizing the Green Lanterns that made their way to Earth after The Sinestro Corps had pulled off their catastrophic bait-and-switch. Hal and Natu may have been the ones leading the operation but Graf had lost friends in the battle against Parallax but he still kept going on with the fight for something that he didn't have a bit to do with.

And, given that she had spent years trying to curry the favor of a cranky, emotionally deprived billionaire detective, Stephanie had come to respect others that carried themselves through one bump in the road after the other.

She fired a spiraling blast at Kurkosaw's right hand, the current Gotham-based Robin not daring to risk directly mixing energies with whatever was pouring out of the bastard's ring but it was enough to prompt the tendrils of black energy to retreat from Toren's waning defenses.

Kurkosaw's calm in the face of physical torment continued to be quite unnerving. "I was looking forward to punishing you for your crimes, Earthling. I will rip away at your very soul, cleave your guts in twain and send the scraps to the doorstep of the obnoxious gunslinger that cost me my glory at Karbarra."

"Well, that's definitely one of the most colorful death threats I've gotten recently," Stephanie confessed even as she extended her energy claws. She continued to keep an eye on the battlefield and could only hope that Kurkosaw was willing to do the same as she continued to test the waters with another emerald pulse bolt. Kurkosaw surprised her once again with a demonstration of his deceptive agility as he slid to the right to avoid any impact before firing back a shot of his own. The attack was fast and the confines were too tight for any aerial acrobatics so she clenched her hands into fists and tightened the gaps between her claws and used the energy daggers to meet the attack head-on. The same icy pit in her stomach bubbled once again but she fought it back with a growl before forcing the blast aside to discover that Kurkosaw was charging at her with a violent, earth-trembling frenzy that was quite fitting of his elephantine body.

"Now we're talkin'," Stephanie couldn't help but crow even as she took a glancing blow from Kurkosaw's bulky right shoulder. Again the wiry black energy sizzled around her and the chilling sensation inched forward a little bit further but Robin was far too interested in spilling a bit of blood to give it a great deal of mind. She draw first blood as Kurkosaw rose up from his charge with a massive uppercut that she managed to duck under before landing a grazing blow against the underside of the monster's left arm. The wound seemed to already on the verge of knitting itself back together as Kurkosaw instantly closed up his defenses and struck back with a double palm thrust that Stephanie foolishly met with her wrists. The trunk-like limbs of her opponent won the battle easily and Robin felt her left wrist cracking as she tried desperately to stay on her feet, her energy claws flickering for a fraction of a second from the trauma.

"Do you hear the call of the reaper, my child?" asked Kurkosaw, his towering presence looming over Stephanie and her defiance. "You have denied her summons twice before and that is far too much fortune than you deserve. It is my duty and privilege to ferry the souls of the iniquitous to their true internment. The fear that consumed my past existence has been cleared away for my true purpose, my consumption of all which leads to criminal intent."

Kurkosaw brought his fists to bear, the brawny limbs now wreathed with black energy, and moved to hammer away at any spot of Robin's body that he could chase down. His pursuit was originally met with failure though as Stephanie employed her superior agility to weave around the punishing shots and even managed to tag her foe with a lash of her claws that dug several inches into Kurkosaw's muscular abdomen. Blood sprayed but the former Sinestro Corps general barely let out a grimace as he continued his attempts to rain down punishment on his slippery adversary.

"I am the ferryman of sin and vice, the shepherd for souls that must receive their proper atonement if they are to find redemption. Know that the consumption of your abundance will serve to stoke the fires that will empower my design. You will serve a purpose in death that you could not possibly fulfill in your pilfered existence."

"Hey! Pro tip! Maybe you should let me handle just how I want to live with all this sinful abundance," Stephanie gamely suggested while leaping back, the brash champion growing quite tired of hearing her opponent yammer. The apprehension that had been gurgling in her gut was quickly being replaced by something else, a matter that the youngest of Green Lanterns was usually quite hasty in stuffing down but was now feeling that there wasn't much of a need to hide it. "Or maybe I'll decide how much of me you're going to get, all right?" she taunted while spinning around another sweeping jab. "Here ya go! Have a taste!"

Robin was more than ready to let loose with the stored energy in her ring but found that something else had apparently taken precedent. Her throat suddenly felt stuffed and she felt her neck muscles stretching outward to make up for the unusual circumstance. Then she let it all loose as a scarlet, dagger-shaped bolt of energy erupted from her mouth, the blistering heat behind it continuing to burn at the Green Lantern's lips even as Kurkosaw had taken the blast full-on and was pushed back. Her eyes were the next part of her body to burn as she pushed Kurkosaw further back with a punishing optic blast, the attack unrelenting until the point when Stephanie felt the unusual energy slip away from her grasp and the crimson glow around her face began to dim once again in deference to her usual emerald sheen.

"Huh. Really didn't know that I could do that," Stephanie mused as Gotham's resident Robin quickly regenerated her energy claws. "Still, I'm not about to complain!"

She sped forward, her body only a meter or so above the ground so that she could get to the downed Kurkosaw as quickly as she could. An unforeseen flaw to that otherwise prudent strategy then soon made its presence felt as two decayed, blackened arms rose up from the factory floor beneath her and snagged her by the ankles. The unexpected impediment forced the Green Lantern to the ground, the top of her forehead slamming harshly against the metal flooring and apparently leaving her leery enough to allow the owner of the rotting limbs to yank her up by the neck before clamping her arms behind her neck in a full-nelson. The Gothamite struggled and clawed against her restraints and even slammed the back of her head against the skull of her captor but that only allowed her to eventually get a better look at Kurkosaw's apparent accomplice.

"What the fuck? Amon Sur?!" Stephanie spat, the Green Lantern stunned to see the active remains of the former Sinestro Corps member. "God damn it! Okay! This is entirely unoriginal! We just did the whole 'fighting the dead' thing!"

"Well, it would seem that your emotions are already working against you," Kurkosaw noted while rising back to his feet. "You gave in to your anger and your momentary forsaking of the will of the Guardians has presented you with the opportunity to unveil another of your crimes."

Drowning out what she thought to be nothing more than incessant babble, Robin made certain to note that whatever remained of the Yellow Lantern of Sector 3814 was making no effort to attack her. She was only being held back; most likely for whatever Kurkosaw had in store for her. Employing that hypothesis to her advantage, Stephanie used her height disadvantage to slide down a few inches before Amon could pull her back tight. Using the inches and slivers of a second she had gained, she was able to put her feet back on solid ground before twisting into a half-completed front flip that brought her captor down squarely on his head and the front of his neck. That was enough to free her arms and she ensnared Amon's own upper limbs as she continued to pitch her body forward and threw the dead weight at Kurkosaw with all the velocity she could muster. She then felt the unbelievable pressure around her neck as the oncoming Kurkosaw snagged her by the neck with his right hand as he had tossed aside Amon Sur with his left.

The consequences came to fruition as Kurkosaw brought his left hand down and placed his meaty fingers around Stephanie's face. The tendrils of black energy rose from his obsidian ring once again and the sinewy supernatural power flowed into Robin's mouth, nostrils and ears with such momentum that Stephanie could not even begin to figure out how to fight it off by the time that her own cerebral cortex was twisted and tempted into relieving memories that stunned her to a pained stillness. She was six years old and shaking with fright as a slick stream of blood slid down her nose, the red drops pooling against her broken tooth that came about from a father's decisive denial of his only daughter only moments after he turned his back and walked out of her life. She tried and failed to ignore the scent of sulfur and mildew along her bed at The Thompkins Clinic, the infection in her lungs eating away at the rest of her vitals and leaving her unable to move as she wilted and faded away. She reeled from the unholy heat of Sabbac's attack as it pierced her tired defenses and set her ablaze, the sound of Batman's cry ringing through her ears before she simply couldn't hear any more. She couldn't do anything more but feel.

She fell to the floor limp and beaten, her few active thoughts leaving her eager to embrace the silence that oblivion would have offered. Instead she was lifted from her resting place by the same hero she had rescued only minutes before.

"This isn't a fight that we can win! I'm detonating the entire facility! Take her and get out of here now, Private Orderlyn!"

Stephanie's head rolled back like a broken and forgotten rag doll as Orderlyn followed the orders of his superior officers, the rookie continuing to demonstrate the calm under fire that would earn him a litany of commendations throughout his tenure with The Green Lantern Corps as he steered away from the losing battle along with his half-dozen surviving compatriots. As for his cargo, she did not hear her comrades crashing through the walls of the plant to make their escape, didn't feel the heat outside draining away at her skin. She didn't even hear the raucous explosion that Toren left in his wake as he guided his wounded squad back to the _Justimara_.

There was nothing but Kurkosaw's laughter.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

So I know that the review is a little bit late (much like this chapter) but I have to confess that I found Christopher Nolan's final chapter in his Batman trilogy to be a little bit better than meh. Maybe it was just because I thought that they were trying to tell a six-hour movie in about half the time. Can't decide whether or not you want to tell _Knightfall _or _No Man's Land_? Try them both and get neither one of them really right. Hell, maybe _The Dark Knight _was so damn good that it would have been impossible to meet the expectations and, judging from the box office totals thus far, this theory has got some legs.

Or maybe I'm just a 32-year-old man who just can't shut his mind all the way off and enjoy a harmless summer action movie. Yeah, I'll leave it at that if only so I can get this whole matter out of the way and move on to the preview.

* * *

_Issue #143 Preview_

How strange it can be that we can be as strong as we've ever been in one moment yet weaker than a newborn child in another. Stephanie Brown has known both sides of this coin many times before but how will she be able to survive when death gets more insistent in calling her home? Perhaps the answer lies in the thoughts of a kindred spirit? Find out more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: The More Things Stay the Same. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	143. The More Things Stay the Same

Issue #143

The More Things Stay the Same

_Gotham – Thompkins Clinic - One year and two months before the present time_

Stephanie wasn't quite sure if she had ever seen Batman look at her so crossly. Of course, that may have all been thanks to the presence of occasional leaks of evidence that the grizzled detective was trying hard not to smile but Robin's potential confusion didn't deter her in the least as she continued to wrap another helping of gauze around Bruce's left shoulder. Finding _To Be A Dentist _to be an appropriate aural background for her currently mischievous ways, the volunteer medical care worker shifted between humming and whistling the familiar jingle while jostling her feet back and forth in time as if the balls of her feet were bouncing on little springs. Snagging another bandage, she swiftly applied the dressings to Batman's shoulder before the crime fighter could find the time to tear her preparations away.

"I demand that you stop what you're doing," Batman insisted darkly, the clarity of his demand perhaps providing the perfect persuasion to convince Robin to continue her activities without a hint of pause. "Leslie, please tell her to stop," he then bit out as his understudy began to play patty cake with his bound limb before he managed to yank his appendage aside with a tear of cloth.

Doctor Leslie Thompkins pursed her lips as she examined the x-ray that was held up to the overhead light by her aged fingers, the veteran healthcare practitioner picking out the things to look for with a well-practiced ease. "Well, you never can be too careful, Bruce," she warned the man whose medical history with her dated back to shortly after the birth of the man often dubbed the planet's greatest detective. "I encourage my volunteers to err on the side of caution. We may occasionally be short on labor and supplies but that's no excuse to do an unsatisfactory job."

"This isn't just unsatisfactory. It's _wasteful_," Batman hissed back, the vigilante saying the last word as if he loathed each and every phoneme. "Not to mention that there are a great many things that still need to be done and I can't be using the time I need for that on dealing with this childish. . . _WILL. . . YOU. . . STOP!_"

"To be a doctor," Stephanie sang back with a mirror image of Steve Martin's classic upbeat tone while using her superior strength and speed to keep her childhood idol from tearing away the bandages that she had gaily wrapped around his head. "To charge oodles of money for your pain!"

"Come on, Bruce. You're smart enough to understand why we might be a bit overcautious," Doctor Thompkins pointed out as Stephanie scooted away to find more medical items that she could make trouble with. "You go and take a group of soldiers straight into the upper floors of Wayne Tower knowing that you'll be outgunned and _then _you even go so far as to be foolish enough to stay behind so that everyone else could escape while you stay behind dealing with God alone knows what. Now somebody who is capable of making those kinds of decisions is obviously not fit to fully judge their mental or physical affairs so we will do so in your stead."

The billionaire allowed for a moment of meaningful silence as he sat on the medical bench, his muscular frame festooned with all sorts of white dressings wrapped around his head, neck, shoulders, chest, legs, and toes.

"There is such a thing as subtlety."

"Ah, yes. Says the man who destroyed the upper half of his own main corporate office. . . Stephanie Brown, you will sanitize that enema tube you pulled out of the drawer, put on some gloves, and then place that back in the cabinet this instant." Leslie easily weathered Stephanie's look of sad dismay as she moved to sit at Bruce's side. "Still, you should be happy to know that the results match what you claim. You don't have any broken bones, torn ligaments, or any other notable wounds to speak of. There's some fresh scarring along your abdomen where you claimed to have been stabbed but, outside of that, whatever you went through in the battle or the imprisonment appears to have had no ill effect on your long-term health."

"I've already said that there's more to it than that," Bruce replied while rising back to his feet, a sour grin briefly gracing his already unpleasant countenance as a nearby mirror forced him to regard his partner's apparent attempts to turn him into a mummy. "Sinestro used his own energy to heal the injuries I suffered at Wayne Tower; everything from the broken ribs to the laceration along my right lung that should have been the death of me. He made certain that I was given enough food and water throughout my confinement and even took precautions to make sure that some of his more. . . eager comrades didn't try and take away a pound of my flesh."

"Well, you'll still pardon me if I'm not in a hurry to send this murderer a note of thanks," Doctor Thompkins countered with a protective crossness. There was a plain note of worry in the old woman's voice, so much so that Bruce found himself looking at her with caution until he was assuaged by a slight but sure smile. "Still, I think that leaving you in the hands of this young volunteer might serve as a fair enough payment for making such a pointlessly rash decision," she judged while turning on her heel. "Do try to give us at least a little bit of time before putting yourself in harm's way once again, would you?"

The door was open and closed before Batman could reply and the detective once again warred with the embers of guilt that seemed to always smolder in his gut. His efforts to ease the tension were an unconscious gesture, a blind instinct just like his choice to turn his glance toward the mischievous woman that stood by quietly even as her thoughts doubtlessly ricocheted away in her mind.

"You're wondering about Sinestro."

Stephanie pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Well, no shit I am," she replied while stooping to sit down on the work desk behind her. "It's not anything that can't wait for when you get some shut eye or anything. . ."

"But it's been something that's been eating away at you," Batman surmised, his grimace returning in the face of Robin's hesitance. Stephanie continued to hedge, the short fingers of her left hand drumming against the wood surface she was seated on. It wasn't until the black-haired gentleman gave her a look of gentle assurance that she was able to gently pry the tips of her teeth from her lower lip and push back an errant lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

"Well, I told you about what happened the first time he and I met. It's not really something you can do a whole lot to forget." The youngest of Earth's Green Lantern wedged the tip of her tongue between her teeth and grinded her fronts against the flexible muscle before swallowing a bit of trepidation and continuing on. "Is it too much to want to know a little bit more about a guy who would do something like that?"

"Not at all," Batman quickly replied before being weighed back down into silence, the niggling unanswered questions still hanging in the air. "Well, I know that I've told you this before but I've never been quite that comfortable with any prospective meeting with Qward's apparently deposed dictator."

Stephanie let out a snort. "Well, there's your second 'no shit' moment in less than a minute," the Gotham-based Robin noted with a somewhat charming grin. "You're just a guy with a bunch of gadgets in his pants while he's got all the powers of a Green Lantern and then some _and _he's never seemed too uncomfortable with using all that stuff to get what he wants."

"Including protecting my life when The Silver Coyote wanted to have me crucified along with Superman," countered The Batman as he moved to loosen some of the bandages around his left leg. "Still, while he may have protected me in our last meeting I'll still admit that there's a great deal about Sinestro that disturbs me."

"Yeah, I can imagine how wigged out somebody could be if they had to spend a month with a guy from umpteen light years away who decided to borrow style tips from David Niven _and _Snidely Whiplash."

Batman put Stephanie's dour humor to a stop with a meaningful glower. "No. I worry about Sinestro because it always seems that he knows more about what is going on around us than I do."

* * *

_Four years and four months before the present time_

Sinestro took a steady gaze at the uncontrollable creature, examining the dynamic flow of energy pouring through the monstrosity that he had a small hand in creating and the glints of his reservations managed to momentarily grab a hold on him. One could spend eternity anticipating and bringing about a germination of life through guidance, planning and attention but it could often be dangerously different when left to contend with the problem of removing the fruit from the vine. Of course, the small matter that the Earthling's haphazardly flowing reservoirs of available supernatural energy could quite easily erase the both of them from existence seemed to be enough to tear the metaphor apart and left him scuttling back to the present time.

_So now we see what can strike fear even in the cold hearts of The Guardians themselves_.

The overlord of Qward waited with all the patience he could summon as Stephanie's pupiless, energy drowned eyes shifted rapidly back and forth, her neck twisting and turning like that of a caged animal struggling with what to do now that it had been let loose in the wild. The cocktail of anger, fear, and will eventually found a point of agreement and Sinestro felt the tearing of his flesh as the Earthling surged forward and lashed at him with her radiant energy talons. The wide swipe was at a sloppily wide angle but the strike itself was so impossibly fast that the master of the anti-matter dimension was barely able to slide aside with minimal damage. Arming himself with the vibrational blade forged from the fires of Qward's very core, the amethyst-skinned champion poured all the power of his ring into enhancing his dexterity and strength to the point where he could keep pace with the wayward entity.

_There is no thought or control in what she is doing._

Sinestro pulled free from the close combat in order to better confront the detonation of hundreds of energy bullets that seemed to be pulled from the very cells of his ethereal foe. There didn't appear to be any form or structure to the creation of the pulse bolts and no direction to go with it given how the shots seemed to target this, there, and everywhere.

_Her emotions have transformed her into a beast whose only goal is survival. Her overriding panic towards the possibility that her unexpected rebirth may come to a sorry end has made her as desperate as she is dangerous. It will take years, perhaps decades, before she could even hope to control the sum total of energy generated from her rebirth within Oa's core._

Sinestro's thoughts were interrupted with a white-hot burst of pain as Stephanie rushed straight into his flight path and slammed her head straight into the bridge of his prodigious forehead. The next several moments were interrupted by his equally strong yet significantly more controlled struggle for survival as he resorted to his decades of experience to guide him through the mayhem.

_On the other hand, __**I **__would do well to remember that the girl would doubtlessly believe that the best hope for her survival is by marching over my mutilated corpse_.

The situation was a matter that a barest percentage of warriors could combat successfully but, once again, Sinestro had not survived and thrived for as long as he had by being anything less than exceptional. The weaknesses in the girl's impulses were now as simple to look upon as the third sun rising over the tall hills of The Wastelands of Javorke on his beloved home world and he sought to exploit them. Taking a couple slight hits from the barrage of energy bolts spurting from the Earthling's body, the experienced warrior grit his teeth while rushing to get in close and poised his pinched fingers to strike at the outermost edges of the Green Lantern's wrists. The sensitive bones snapped like wet kindling and the energy claws that sizzled above them quickly began to wilt and flicker. Grabbing the weakened limbs by the skin that covered the snapped bones, the Qwardian was on the verge of twisting his adversary into a restraining hold before his fortune finally failed him. His skin was burning once again, this time to a far greater intensity as the globe of crimson energy launched from Stephanie's mouth seared and sizzled against his face and neck.

Now there was no time for thoughts or observations or curses dedicated for his own foolishness as Sinestro reeled backward. There wasn't even an available moment to fortify his defenses and he soon paid for his lack of preparation as six energy blades plunged into his gut. The lack of oxygen forced the former mentor of Hal Jordan to let out a silent and anguished howl as the long slivers of solid, golden light cut away at bone, fat and sinew with no impunity. Now it was the murderer's turn to feel the instinctive dread that perhaps all of his intentions and preparations were for naught, that the destiny that awaited his awareness from the moment The Guardians of Oa had first employed him as a pawn on the cosmic board would be nothing more than a dream denied. However, unlike the snarling monstrosity that was attempting to rip him in two, Sinestro would force his fear to provide fuel rather than sap it away. He grabbed at the girl's wrists and squeezed on the weakened bones with every ounce of desperate strength we had, his long fingers encircling the still recovering joints to prevent the power-maddened Earthling from stretching her arms wide and tearing him in twain.

Doing his best to minimize the already significant damage, Sinestro suffered as he slowly leaned back, the energy daggers slicing through his lower abdomen on the way to his hip bones before he could force the girl away with a double-footed thrust kick. The gaping tears in his body voiced their complaints as he soared away from his opponent but at least the aerial maneuvering would buy him some time to heal, a moment to consider the minutiae and use the knowledge he gained to regain full control over the matter at hand. He wisely used Stephanie's anger against her, the Yellow Lantern employing geometry and physics to keep one step ahead of his brutally forceful antagonist even as he occasionally showered the girl with golden energy bolts that all served to buy him more time. Then, feeling the holes in his face and torso beginning to knit themselves back up, he took his vibrational blade in both hands and forced Stephanie to divert her travels with a slash that, had it connected, would have carved in the upper half of the girl's skull. It was a narrow miss prompted only by Sinestro's mercy and the desire to keep his unwilling student alive and Stephanie's frenetic travels suddenly came to a stop.

_Yes! Take in your surroundings, girl! Realize how closely you came to death because of your lack of control. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to make you understand both sides of what the Guardians believe what you will become. Not just what they wish you will become but what they __**fear**__! You know how to embrace the power but now you must control it!_

Sinestro's hopes were quickly revealed to be in vain as Stephanie's energy claws flared to life once again. She closed in on the Qwardian within the blink of an eye and it was only thanks to his years of training that the purple-skinned warrior was able to avoid any mortal injuries in the long minute to come and he hardly came away unscathed. Perhaps he could have staved off more of his own pain if he resorted to countering the girl's more audacious assaults, the wide swings and the spinning lashes that left vital parts of the Earthling's body exposed for a quick stab or slash, but there was no denying that control would not be regained as easily as he had hoped. His right wrist sported a deep gash and he could feel the blood running down his left arm from a half-dozen lacerations by the time he returned to the hit-and-run tactics that had saved his life just moments ago, the former Green Lantern again employing his superior strategy and combat knowledge to outmaneuver his powerful antagonist.

_It's still too early. Perhaps I was foolish to believe that a creature so soon out of adolescence could possess the self-discipline to understand even the simple foundation of what fate will ask her for. After all, was I not the same unknowing beast at this stage in my development? Just a stripling dreaming of discovery and lusting for the mysteries behind ancient ruins without having any clue of the forces that helped bring that destruction to being?_

Sinestro allowed himself to be caught by Stephanie once again, much as he had when he physically demonstrated the limitations behind the girl's undiscovered power. A snarl of discontent emerged on his wornvisage as he rattled off a silent incantation in his head.

_For what it is worth, my sympathies are yours, you unfortunate fool._

A globule of energy spat from the surface of Sinestro's ring, the illumination starting off as some featureless entity of hard light before it began to twist and shift in what seemed like a slow instant. The supernatural force had been morphed into a bizarre sigil by the time that the Green Lantern had crashed into it headlong and it appeared that every stem and curve of the figure seemed to stretch around her until the yellowish-black energy wrapped around her like a tight net. Still deprived of oxygen, Stephanie let out a silent scream as pain dominated her senses while providing a bizarre distraction for what Sinestro truly had in store. The chaos that had thrived for the last ten minutes declined in a matter of seconds as the fair-haired Gothamite curled up her body in an unconscious effort to compact her muscles to reduce the pain and that's how she remained as the ruler of Qward ensnared her in his grip.

"Pray that you have enough years to learn what will be required from you," Sinestro advised after constructing a golden bubble that allowed Stephanie to gulp in expansive amounts of air. Within another instant he was to the task of healing the girl's supernatural connections, suffusing the Green Lantern with energy that would replenish the dendrites and neurons worn raw from the strain put upon them. He watched the girl's chest rise and fall as her breathing and heartbeat become steadier while making certain to keep an eye on the eldritch rivulets of crimson and golden energy leaving Stephanie's body and briefly drifting about in the ether of anti-matter before fading away from sight and touch. A dark, nearly dominating portion of his thoughts were steered towards the possibilities of what he could do with such a torrent of primal force before shuffling those worthless thoughts aside. This burden and treasure was not his to bear and he already had enough to carry as it was.

"There is no doubt that your strength lies in your ability, your. . . fervor for presenting your emotions for all to see," the lone Yellow Lantern in the cosmos continued on as Stephanie began to stir and struggle in his grip. "It is a unique talent; one that is so frequently perverted by figures of affection and authority that would gladly use such distinctive instances to better pursue their own selfish means. Perhaps time will be forced to tell whether your desire for normalcy amidst the extraordinary will inevitably guide you down the path of greatness."

Sinestro had guessed that the moment that followed would inevitably arrive but the unpredictability of the minutes that came before had left him in not quite the right state to deal with it properly as it occurred. The struggle to discover the Earthling's hidden talents had taken far more out of him than he had ever imagined and the strain left him momentarily adrift as a gap appeared within the infinite mass of formless anti-matter. A familiar friend and foe burst through the instant the portal had come fully into being and the Qwardian felt his jaw shatter, his nose splintering from the force of the massive fist striking the lower half of his face. He felt the blood-stained fabric of Stephanie's Green Lantern armor slip from his grasp before his senses were further dulled by the compression of his neck and trachea as those same hands that struck him sought to squeeze the very life from his lungs.

There wasn't any way for Kilowog's words to be heard but the merest gaze into the trainer's blistering glare provided enough to allow the message to get across. The sole survivor of the Bolovax Vix had gone a long way to presenting himself to the newly arrived marionettes as little more than a hardened drill sergeant focused only on the mission but Sinestro knew that Kilowog's people had taken pride in their intelligence and there was nothing more the porcine Green Lantern detested than being outfoxed. Sinestro desperately attempted to provide his former colleague another taste of humility by employing the slivers of power left in his ring to fire off a pulse blast that hit the Green Lantern squarely in the gut. There wasn't enough force behind the gambit to puncture through Kilowog's thick torso and abdomen and it barely even managed to push through the outside perimeter of the veteran's firm eldritch defenses but the kinetic force behind it was enough to force his attacker to loosen his grip enough to allow Sinestro to wrench himself free. Nearly a dozen years in studying and conquering the mysteries of anti-matter allowed the Qwardian to open a gap within a pocket of space in an instant, a nearly physically impossible galactic phenomenon that would allow him safe egress from not only Kilowog but the half-dozen other Green Lanterns who streamed into the battleground at the first moment they could.

"_Honestly. All this effort to ensure the safety of a single Green Lantern trainee,_" grumbled one of the Lanterns who examined the exhausted Earthling, a studious survivor of dozens of galactic clashes. _"And with the situation on Katina. . ."_

"_And we may not have gotten the opportunity to look for any of the wounded if this 'trainee' hadn't bulled her way through the battlefield while you poozers were mucking about in the outer perimeters," _Kilowog spat back, his frustration stemmed from being so easily duped punctuating his sour demeanor.

"_Well, that doesn't take away from the fact that Jutalnak has escaped Corps custody and is already threatening to annihilate the society he has spent nearly a decade keeping under his thumb_," the critical soldier replied, the truth behind the counterargument only providing another handful of kindling for the Bolovaxian's rising temper. _"You directly defied orders sent by The Oan Council and I will see to it that your actions will be reported the instant I return to base."_

Kilowog let out a sigh as he observed the other Lanterns tending as best they could to an Earthling that had proven to be one of their own. _"Go do what you want, Oiganar. This girl's got to learn that somebody's willing to look after her."_

* * *

_Present Time_

"_I really need to figure out how to curtail the number of times I wake up like this," _Stephanie couldn't help but think as she continued to keep her eyes shut while getting her wits about her. Granted, she wasn't really certain if anybody could ever get used to waking up after getting knocked the hell out but the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns considered herself to be pretty ahead of the game as it came to this eccentric area of expertise. There was almost a humor to be found in it really. After all, she knew from extensive personal experience that there were worse ways to find yourself after an opponent managed to get the better of you.

"Well, it's pretty safe to say that Bruce never got around to teaching you how to fake being unconscious. Your eyes are fluttering all over the place."

Stephanie opened her eyes wide at the sound of the familiar voice. Her full senses brought themselves back to order in an instant as she bridged the connection between the half-cocky, half-confident tenor tone and the debonair gentleman that employed it.

"Hal?"

The former ace pilot, respected Green Lantern and potential galactic conqueror turned respected Green Lantern once again met Stephanie's shock with an easygoing smirk. "You're back on Oa, in case you were interested. Ganthet apparently thought that you might appreciate the irony of waking up in the same medical center that you stayed in the first time you were here."

Robin grumbled as she laid her head back against her pillow. Raising her arms and bending her elbows, she brought her hands down and clamped the edges of her pillow around her ears but that wasn't enough to render her deaf to the chuckling of the current Justice Leaguer. "You know what's sad? I was honestly thinking that I just came back from the dead again and thought that I'd have to do it all over again. You know! Like Groundhog Day? Just how messed up is that?"

Hal Jordan pursed his lips and thought it over before responding with a nod. "I wish I could say that it was just you but it does often seem that way, doesn't it? Besides, I heard that we were tied at two when it came to coming back from the dead and I'll be damned if I let a young punk like you take the lead on me."

Stephanie quickly found her good humor returning and expressed it with a cheery grin. "Man, I didn't even know you were on Oa."

"You got here before I did," Stephanie's former training partner replied with a shrug of his slender shoulders. "You've been unconscious for a little over three days, kiddo. The only reason I'm here is that I was brought in to give my thoughts about Kurkosaw to the Guardians after what happened when you and Graf ran into him."

Robin's grin tightened as the memories began to knit themselves back together again. She remembered the feel of the coarse hair and hard muscle of Kurkosaw's massive left hand as it wrapped around her skull. She unconsciously mimicked the moment when she had tried to jerk her body away before the impossibly black energy coursed around and through her with each volt and sting of pain bringing back some of the most painful memories her deepest thoughts could dredge up. The movement was so sudden that Hal stood from his seat to lightly wrap a hand around the back of her neck and he kept the firm grasp until the both of them could take several deep breaths. They rose and fell together, two decidedly imperfect souls recognizing a shared experience and realizing what was required.

"I can still remember it too. When I opened my eyes it felt like the sun was broiling me alive by the inches. I heard every scream of every person I hurt. Even the ones that I managed to block out or ignore when all the madness was actually happening."

Stephanie let out another breath. "Yeah, but it's not happening anymore, is it?" Odd as it was, the fair-haired Gothamite found more comfort in Hal's assurance than she probably ever would have if Bruce or Lloyd were the ones there to ease her nerves. "God, Hal. I don't know what the hell that bastard got a hold of but it's fucking dangerous! He was controlling those dead Lanterns! Just think about what Luthor can do if he can manage that with _all _the sick fucks we've put under the ground!"

"Well, then maybe we should be grateful that the higher ups are starting to think that Lex isn't going to have access to that particular weapon." Upon observing Stephanie's curious tilt of her eyebrows, Hal sought to continue. "Karag Oksis spilled the beans after Graf brought him back in for questioning. Apparently Kurkosaw was viewed as a potential contact given his effectiveness as a field general but apparently Lex wasn't too impressed with what he saw. Or, hell, maybe he just thought that Kurkosaw was just too wobbly of a loose cannon to deal with."

Having just raised her head off the pillow, Stephanie let out a sigh as she slumped back down on it once again. "Great. So what you're saying is that I just walked an entire regiment of Green Lanterns straight into a worthless trap. Go me."

"No, you helped us discover the extents of a very legitimate threat. You know that and I know that," Hal reminded his frustrated colleague. "Just because this stuff didn't turn out to be what we were looking for doesn't mean that it isn't worth taking a look at. And, speaking along those lines, I've got some lab reports that you might be interested in hearing about."

Stephanie raised her eyes back up in time to catch a clear sight of the stream of energy flowing from Hal's ring into her own. In an instant her thoughts were momentarily flooded with analyses of supernatural readings and hypotheses and the unexpected influx coerced her into shutting her right eye and pursing her lips as her brow furrowed with the force of her concentration.

"Since you work with Bruce I figured that you've long gotten used to people looking at your stuff before you did," Hal remained cool and unapologetic in the face of Stephanie's poor attempt at a Batglare. "Maybe you'll hate me for breaking this to you but apparently a case like yours isn't quite so unusual. It is a first for the officers of our respective sector but Council records have documented nearly 200 instances of a Green Lantern's physical makeup being permanently altered by Oan supernatural energy. Still, you did give the Council physicians some interesting things to look at when your ring started to knit back your neural connections on the way back to Solur but the phenomenon itself is still all stuff that they've seen before."

Stephanie let out a dour frown. "Awwww. And here I thought I wuz special." Then, flashing upon a decidedly wicked point, she looked back up. "Any chance the Council said the same thing about you? And, if they did, was it before or after you tried to enact a cosmic mulligan?"

Hal made no move to rise to the bait. "We all think we're unique, kiddo. It's just that some of us just go out of our way to prove that we're normal and that's what makes us end up looking special in the eyes of others. And vice versa."

The silence lingered for a bit as Robin hefted herself up by the elbows until she was in a seated position. She stretched her legs until the balls of her feet could rub against the front of the bed. "I was remembering my first brouhaha with 'The Grape Ape'. Should I find it odd that I think back to _that _particular encounter or should I just be worried that I apparently made no effort to dream of flowery fields or taking a cruise out on the open seas like normal people?"

"Eh, what's normal, Lieutenant? As a kid I would sleep with my hands under the pillow and they'd fall asleep and I'd be dreaming that my hands were so heavy that I couldn't lift them." Hal took a moment to simmer in Stephanie's look of bamboozlement before crossing his arms back over his chest. "Still, I'm guessing that you just took that giant jump away from the conversation to ask a certain question?"

Robin gave her elder intergalactic warrior a polite grin. "Okay. Sinestro could have killed me a dozen times that day but he didn't. A couple years later he goes out of his way to protect Bruce when Doctor Psycho and his other partners would have been more than happy to cut him up into tiny bits. And I know that he was yammering on about how glorious Qward was going to be and I just chalked it up to a bunch of yap at the time but he apparently told Rayner that he purposefully left behind a weakness in the Sinestro Corps battery that Kyle could exploit. If that's true then he just handed over the planet he had been ruling over for decades. That's not something a bad guy is supposed to do. Shit, it's not what a good guy is supposed to do!"

"Oh, Lord. We have the murderous vigilante getting frustrated about what she thinks about somebody else's place in the world. What a privileged, fuckin' life you lead."

Snapping quickly out of her hypocritical funk, Stephanie raised a middle finger to stack up against Hal's knowing smirk. "_I'm just saying _that it might be a little bit nicer if I could figure out more about what the hell is going on. I mean, most of these morons I can figure out! Neron wanted to bring Hell on Earth. Luthor is just some egg-headed egotist who's had people constantly telling him how wonderfully smart he is until he gets to thinking that he's the only one who can save the world and so he thinks that he has the privilege to take it over. Kurkosaw is some murderous freak who watched his old lady get murdered and now he's taking it out on everything he can get his trunk on."

"And you're an adrenaline junkie with a messed up childhood who wants everything in black and white so that you don't have to grow up."

Hal knew the outrage was going to be quick to arrive and he held up his palm to stem the tide. "At least that's what everybody thought of you, right? But that isn't everything you are and there's more to Neron and Luthor and Kurkosaw. There's more to Sinestro too. For starters the guy got enough out of life as a Green Lantern to discover that he wanted to shoot for something that was a little bit grander than what life was asking from him. He's always been interested in anybody who didn't just stop at dreaming but also didn't stop living in the present time. And when he mentored me he saw a creature who could have been a good intergalactic peacekeeper and he made efforts to nurture that but he was just as interested in what I was planning to do when I was off duty. He saw what I was really interested in fighting for and I'm reasonably certain that he was looking for the same thing in you."

Stephanie found that she had to look away from Hal's unrelenting calm. She consciously brought her right hand up to the space of skin and sinew between her collar bone and torso and ran her ring finger along the grooves of the scar that lingered there. Kilowog had identified it as a sigil of the old ruling guard of Qward before Sinestro had initiated the bloody coup that inevitably placed him on the pulse of his home world's beating heart. Not even her second return from the grave had been enough to eliminate the slight disfigurement and the prospective meaning of its presence had turned the mark into a tightly-held secret she had shared with only a handful of her nearest and dearest. She had told Bruce, of course. Lloyd and Kara. Richie. The fact that her boyfriend only thought it to be a bizarre looking birthmark was something that she often thought best to be ignored.

Hal stretched down one side of his regulation Green Lantern uniform to reveal a similar wound that ran along his left shoulder. "Hey. I've got an idea," he reasoned while sliding his shirt back into place. "How about we discuss something that doesn't have anything to do with Sinestro! Well, at least I'm pretty certain this doesn't have anything to do with him but I guess you can never really know for sure. . ."

"Oh, just get to it, Gomer." Stephanie snapped back, the combination her impatience and the dull beat of a budding headache already starting to get the better of her. She quickly realized that the whole thing could have just been an attack on an innocent messenger and the Gothamite rebuffed herself by lowering her head and grimacing shyly until Hal smirked back and continued on.

"We think that we've found the guys that Lex used to bring in the Karbarran materials after his try at recruiting Kurkosaw came up bad. Of course, the Corps is sending a team to investigate the matter and I couldn't help but think that you might be interested."

Robin's eyes lit up even as her brain was warning her not to get any bright ideas. "Well, shit. Why didn't you say something before? Let's go!" She was already starting to try and scoot her way off the bed but Hal was quick to stop her weakened attempts to pull off a miraculous recovery and gently eased her back down.

"Easy there, cowgirl," Hal cautioned while settling his fellow Lantern down. "We're not leaving for a couple days yet. We've got people that need to get here and things to take care of over there and _you _need to focus on resting and getting better so that you can be ready to move when you need to be."

A somewhat petulant frown set the tone for Stephanie's heart-shaped mug. "Oh, all right," she replied with a huff as she abused her pillow once again with the back of her hardy skull while turning away from her visitor. "Well, if I'm going to have to stay here then I at least call dibs on the first spoonful of hospital jello."

Hal let out a chuckle and shook his head as he left Robin's quarters. _"Geez Louise, how did she get to be such a bullet train anyway?" _he thought to himself while shutting the door, the veteran Green Lantern already thinking that he was already quite close to the question's answer.

* * *

_Six years and two months before the present time_

"And just who do we have here?"

Stephanie tried hard to resist the urge to let out a nervous swallow and failed miserably in the attempt as Batman continued to glower down at her. The alarm bells that had been droning her head were continuing to rise in volume as she briefly wondered over whether the intimidating man in front of her had managed to see the nervous gesture covered up as she was in her mask. That inevitably brought her to the moment of realization that she had already taken off her mask and that brought her on the verge of a breakdown yet again. _Then _she thought about pulling the royal blue cloth back over her face and casting the eggplant-purple hood over her head but it occurred to her that those kinds of gestures could be taken to mean that she was trying to hide something and that was _not _what she needed to be doing. On the other hand, there was also the notion that The Dark Knight of Gotham City was waiting on her to answer his question and _Ohmygodhe'sjustbeenstaringatmeallthist imeandIhaven'tsaidanythingandohgodohgodoh god._

"Come on. You know who this is, Batman," Robin replied in her stead, the raven-haired junior detective possessing more than enough insight to see that the usually excitable girl he brought back to The Batcave was growing unusually quiet. "This is Stephanie Brown. Well, I guess she wants to be called Spoiler when she's wearing that. She's the one that gave Gordon the clues that helped us bring The Riddler back in."

The Spoiler momentarily found herself perturbed that the boy she had been crushing on for the last several weeks was so quick to give away her secret identity. It wasn't as if she knew who was under his mask, after all. Still, if she were being really honest, the reason she was really sour about it was that the whole thing just provided another example that this event, something she had been waiting on for _years_, was swirling down the metaphorical toilet in record time and the more she tried to take an effort to make up the difference the more she was tempted to stammer and waste too much time choosing her words. It was The Batman who finally chose to make the next move and she startled like a frightened alley cat as the shrouded vigilante took a single step forward and took a closer look of her.

"I already know who she is, Robin. This was the girl who left behind the evidence that allowed us to track down her father, The Cluemaster. The question I truly wanted at least one of you to answer is just why is she here?"

Figuring the jig was up, Stephanie took a deep breath and another thick gulp of nervousness. "I want to help bring justice to Gotham City," The Spoiler said resolutely, the rookie nearly standing on the tips of her toes as she sought to stand up as straight and tall as Batman probably wanted her to. "I want to do something good in the world."

Batman allowed himself another moment for analysis before turning away with a grunt. "Robin, I gave you the opportunity to create a life that you would like to live without the mask. That is a privilege and a right that you have earned but that freedom does _not _allow you the license to drag in your romantic partner and endanger her with the same lives that we lead."

"She's not my girlfriend," Tim Drake fired back out of instinct. Then, realizing how critical an error his choice in words could be, his cheeks flushed as he was met with two distinctively hostile glares. "Well. . . what I mean is that I just thought that it might be useful to start bringing some new people into the fold now that Oracle is branching out and Nightwing is moving to Bludhaven full-time. She's had some martial arts training and we all have to start somewhere, right?" The third young man to don the mantle of Robin was suddenly starting to realize what Superboy meant when he compared being under Batman's knowing stare to sitting directly under a heat lamp. "And. . . and if she wants to go patrolling then she won't do it alone. I'll make sure that I'm with her at all times."

"Oh, I bet you will, lothario," a cheery voice chimed in from the safety of the overhead speakers that lined the trio of Cray supercomputers. "Hey! And I see you eying Robbie's hinder, blondie! You cut that out! You're being examined by the goddamned Batman!"

Batman's jaw clenched so tightly that Stephanie swore that she could hear his teeth whining in remonstration. "Get The Black Canary off my feed, Oracle. Now."

"Going dark," Barbara Gordon answered back, the master hacker, manipulator of the audiovisual equipment within The Batcave and overseeing leader of The Birds of Prey quick to cut off her best friend's access to the increasingly awkward scene. As the prying ears exited with a crackle of feedback, Batman swept his gaze back to the increasingly sheepish pair and loomed over the younger of the two once again.

"Take off your mask, Stephanie Brown."

It would take nearly five years for Bruce to confess to his future understudy that this was the moment when he first saw Stephanie's potential. The open gesture to remove the cloth with only a whit of hesitation managed to provide a sliver of it but what truly struck home was the look in her pale, blue eyes. Some hints of desperation and overcompensation continued to linger in her mannerisms, in particular a slightly obvious effort to stand tall and unrelenting even as her true confidence already began to waver and bring her stature back down to its ordinary state. The desire to broadcast a positive message came off the youth in waves but there was caution in that gaze as well. Caution and excitement and a legion of questions and strengths and vulnerabilities and every bit of it was honest to a ridiculous fault and he thought that the sheer amount of will that the girl must have possessed to be that sincere in the face of such a warped rearing was downright frightening.

Frightening and intriguing.

"All the hard work you put into placing your father behind bars would provide a fair indication about how much you would care about what he thought of your decisions," Batman began while continuing to examine the new arrival. "But what about your mother?"

Stephanie let out a derisive snort that was far too hastily arranged to be all the way genuine. "What about her? Maybe you haven't noticed but not all mommies and daddies are that well equipped to take care of a kid after they get done with all the fun and rub."

"But what if Crystal Brown comes out of her stint in rehab and gets another steady job?" Batman asked, his body still but his imposing presence still enough to prompt Stephanie to take an involuntary step back. "What if she starts thinking that she's finally got her life together again and she starts pledging to do whatever she can to do right by the daughter she neglected."

Batman could see the spike of anger rising in Stephanie's eyes and the girl earned some respect in his eyes by refusing to rise and greet it. Maybe she just wasn't the type to dive into a potential emotional burst (and, oh, how he would come to find himself foolish for even thinking that this was a possibility) or perhaps the girl's instincts realized how important it was to do everything right. "Batman. Look. . . what makes you think you know anything about my mother?"

"Crystal Whitman: graduate of The Hockaday Nursing School at the age of 20. She managed to hold several positions in Gotham medical facilities before and after her marriage to Arthur Brown but her professional record has been pockmarked with heavy absenteeism." Batman gestured with his left hand toward a black metal cabinet. Following the silent recommendation, Stephanie looked at the file that lay on top and saw her mother's picture and what appeared to be a copy of her birth certificate. "It's the classic case of a troubled woman who still has the tools to regain her foothold in life so let's shoot for the best case scenario. Let's say that happens. Now she's up in the early hours of the morning after a long shift and she sees her daughter dragging herself into bed out of the corner of her eye. Any caring parent would naturally be nervous and be interested in finding out more and what do you plan on telling her?"

Barbara, Dick, Jason, and Tim had all shouted back in defiance by the time he had come to this point in the argument but Stephanie stood firm, hesitant, and silent. Eager to investigate this exception from the norm, Batman strode to face Stephanie and took note that the girl did not shift her ground this time.

"How do you feel about lying to her?"

And still Stephanie stood tall. Her body was starting to quiver to be sure but she managed to keep calm until an unexpected guardian provided a response.

"That's not fair, Batman!" Tim Drake roared while sliding between his teacher and his. . . potential. . . lady person. "You think you're the only one that isn't afraid to put themselves in harm's way to do something right? We all put our lives on the line every day! We train and practice and work harder all the time and all she's asking for is a chance to learn how to do the same."

"Robin, please," Stephanie said softly, the plea little more than a distressed warble that Batman quickly took note of. "I. . . I do want to do something good, Batman. And I know that there's a whole bunch of other things that I could do. Stuff that's a lot safer but this is something important. And. . . and if my mom really does become the person that I want her to be then I want to try and let her into my life but I don't know enough to know if that can happen! I don't know that. The only thing I do know is that I want to learn, I want to work hard, but I need somebody to teach me. That's all I ask."

Stephanie would later confess to Bruce that she was guessing that he was going to throw her and Tim out on the spot. Several moments after her admission Bruce would tell her that, at least at that moment, he held no doubt towards his next decision.

"I want a hand and an eye on Stephanie's training, Robin. The both of you are going to have to keep your grades up and your real responsibilities in hand. Furthermore she will not even _think _of patrolling the streets of Gotham until I have given my approval. Is that clear?"

This should have been the moment where Timothy Drake gave a smile of relief at the thought that he had managed to get what he wanted out of a potential argument with The Batman. Nightwing had even gone out of his way to try and teach him a victory dance that the former Robin had apparently created to celebrate such a rare occasion but it didn't quite feel right. And, being the certified genius he was, the budding investigator soon found it and expressed his thoughts in kind.

"Wait. . . wait a minute! You just said yes?! But. . . but. . . you needed two weeks when I asked if I could train to become Robin and. . . and you just. . ."

As she watched Batman retreat his way up the stone stairwell that she would later learn to be the passageway to Wayne Manor, Stephanie wanted to offer a bit of sympathy for the relative stranger that had worked so hard to help get her foot in the front door of her childhood dream.

Really. She did.

It was all she could do to keep from hopping and cartwheeling about like a madwoman.

* * *

_The Batcave – 5:42 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"You know, it took nearly a week for him to finally stop complaining about it. Well, of course he didn't make an active case about complaining since that's never really been his style but he'd drop a hint every now and again."

Stephanie's giggle could be clearly heard thanks to the strength and consistency of the intergalactic communication transmission that allowed her to "phone home" even from her hospital bed in Oa's central citadel. "Please. You think you had it bad? For _months _I had to deal with him grumbling about why I got such 'special treatment'! It was like he thought I kept borrowing his favorite book without asking."

Bruce Wayne, to his credit, kept from breaking into an all out smile while steepling his fingers. "And I'm sure that a reserved lady like you didn't add any fuel to the fire by touting what you thought to be a privilege?"

"Oh, of course not!" Stephanie replied with a mocking airiness that prompted both members of Gotham's Dynamic Duo to break into subdued smiles and laughter. Clearly pleased that she had learned how to spur such a reaction from this particularly cranky stick-in-the-mud, Robin's smirk nearly broke into an out-and-out beaming smile as she ran a hand through her scraggly hair to fight back the emotional wave. "Still, I guess he had a point. As usual, lest any of us forget. I mean, exactly how long did it take for me to figure out most of this stuff?"

"Six years, two months, 11 days and counting," Bruce Wayne replied with a mixture of billionaire fop and hardened vigilante that coerced his young charge into firing back with a twisted frown. "In fact, I might even want to place a complaint to The Oan Council about how they appear to be interfering with your proper training."

Stephanie couldn't quite hide her smile or subdue the twinkle in her eyes. "Well, I am just as indebted to the Corps as I am to you. Not to mention that Hal may be right when he says that whatever we're going after may have a connection to Lex Luthor."

"I'll take confidence in Jordan's talents towards deduction when he finally ever gets around to any form of investigating," Batman replied with a snort. "And you're certain that the Council cannot provide any further information on your recent physiological alterations?"

"No more than what wasn't diagnosed by Lloyd and Zatanna. As I told you, there apparently are a few cases where the eldritch force within an Oan power ring occasionally made its way into the body of its wielder. Some of them were connected to how the artifacts were wielded by past and present holders while others were linked to unusual happenings or unusual physiologies but there really isn't a whole bunch of available data on this."

Batman made his discontent known with a grumble as he slumped in his chair, his familiar cowl drooping against his shoulders. "Well, take some time to recover but get your job done quickly. We don't need to be dealing with this kind of unfamiliarity and the only way we're going to find answers is to work together to discover them."

"Awwwww, I miss you too, Batsie," Robin answered back with an amiable smile, her uncluttered enjoyment drawing a stern glare from her favored mentor. "All right. I'll be back home as soon as I can. Robin out."

"She looks tired. More so than usual."

The Dark Knight of Gotham City had waited patiently as the screen in front of him faded to black. One of the few advantages there was to an audiovisual conference is that the audience on the other end of the link could only see so much of what was going on at the other side. Bruce had felt some qualms about leaving his own observers out of sight but he needed some more eyes on the pressing situation and the two pairs that were huddled together near the stairwell were some of the best in the field.

"You've worked with her for years now," Bruce allowed as he stood up from his seat. "I trust your opinion on this matter just as much as my own."

Lloyd Thomas crossed his arms over his chest as he was asked to assess the mannerisms of the closest thing he had to a sister. "As well you should, mate, and I'm with her on this. I imagine Jordan had more than just a hand in the chit allowing herself any kind of rest time and it's clear that she's eager to get back an' work on what she thinks to be her mistake."

"The Corps tossed her into a situation that she wasn't prepared for," Batman said with a grunt while turning away from the appraising gazes. "They needed a reliable fighter to test the efficacy of an unknown entity and they threw Robin out there like a slab of meat."

"No, _she _threw herself into that situation and _she _is overworking herself. It's the same as it's always been." countered Kara Zor-el as she slid away from the grip of Lloyd's hand on her own and rose to her feet. "Mister Wayne, are you really that confused to see one of your students trying too hard to impress their superiors? I mean, sure, she'll take the occasional break from action so long as she thinks that things are going well but this is what happens when she thinks that something is wrong or that somebody she cares about is expecting more from her."

"Bloody hell, it was a small wonder that we could even get her to stop moving during all those months that you and Richard first left Gotham and left us in charge of the city," Lloyd added as he leaned against the nearby console.

"Exactly! There was a whole lot to do and she wanted to make certain that it all got done. She. . . isn't just one to let things lie."

"Yeah, can't imagine where she got that from." The gamely grumble earned the British half-demon a pop to the shoulder from his extraterrestrial paramour. "Look, boss. We never told Stephanie about how we voiced our concerns about her during that year you were gone and we did that because we know how much she means to you."

Batman briefly shut his eyes tight, the gentleman many still thought to be immune or uncaring of the tragedies that befell people of his profession suddenly finding himself overcome. He recalled those dreadful minutes sitting beside her at Leslie's clinic but that was an easy enough memory to shelf. What ate at him was the sound of her screaming as her body was broiled alive. The silent tears that ran down her tired face when she heard that Cecilia hadn't made it back with the rest of them. . .

Richard had become his own man. Tim had found a life that he deserved. He had failed Jason. All three of them were more than ready to leave upon being shown the door and that left the one who waited with a smirk until he shut that door back with the both of them still inside.

"I can't fail this one."

Kara gave the old man her gentlest smile. "You won't, Bruce. Stephanie Brown is happy and full of faults and she's the heart and soul of who we are. Only a fool couldn't have figured that out."

Bruce felt his facial muscles clinching before he let out a laugh. It started out as a sad utterance but gradually tilted upward as he recalled another lost momento: the joy of a little girl encouraged by his assurance that she could be a greater hero than he could ever be.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Okay. I know the last bit is a little schmaltzy but how could it be a Stephanie-centric story arc without a little bit of Batman and Robin fluff? I won't lie to you and say that I found the last six issues to be really easy ones to write since it has been a loooooong time since I've had to focus so much of my creative energy on a single character like this. That being said, I hope this makes up for the six months The Misfits were apparently without their merry psycho and that everybody has gotten enough of our favorite forgotten Gotham heroine (sorry, Cassandra) so that my other characters come out and play!

And just what are they doing anyway?

* * *

_Issue #144 Preview_

Lex Luthor's deadline is approaching fast and the players on both sides are struggling to find the best place to start things off when the short ax falls. Batman finds himself coerced into joining two of Gotham's merrier past guardians in order to right a grievous wrong while The Black Dog drags Arsenal around the world in search for answers about Intergang and more. And, while Hal Jordan and Stephanie Brown handle their own task with their usual quiet reserve and professionalism, this leaves Kara Zor-el to winging her way to a possibility long passed on the search for one of her cousin's oldest foes. All this and more as _Irrevocable Assemblage_ ramps up with the next installment of The Misfits: Tending to Nooks and Crannies. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	144. Tendings to the nooks and crannies

Issue #144

Tending to the nooks and crannies

_8:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

_I shouldn't feel so relieved to come back home_.

It was an admission that Richard Grayson almost felt ashamed to make as he continued to push his athletic limbs above and between the tall brownstones of downtown Gotham with the aid of his hydraulic zip line. Letting out a quiet whoop as he fired his grappling gun at the underside of a granite rooftop, the former acrobat and current Justice Leaguer swung, flipped, glided, and twirled towards his destination with a simplicity so ingrained within his reflexes that the entire routine may as well have been buried in the forefront of his subconscious. He didn't require the guidance of the shining light that seemed to part the purplish-black clouds of the early evening but it still served as the source of another haven. And as he felt the lithe muscles in his arms gleefully rippling from the effort of swinging him upwards towards the familiar rooftop he tempered his joy with the sober reality of the task in front of him. Then, taking on the stern mask passed down to him from his fathers, he twisted his body into a safe, double-footed landing beside the giant lamp that served as his summons.

"Hey, you ain't the shadowy one I wuz looking for," noted a far surlier presence that prompted Nightwing to twist his lips into a mocking frown. "Thought you were just happy getting your pretty little mug plastered on the front page of the newspapers, kid."

Nightwing allowed his accuser some small hints of satisfaction before turning to meet Harvey Bullock's wry glare with one of his own. Perhaps it was just the effect of his nostalgia kicking into overdrive but it looked to him as if the grizzled police lieutenant had not changed a bit. There was the everpresent snarl that the unkempt investigator seemed to reserve for masked vigilantes, the same ratty tie stained and set askew from a hard day's work and a doubtlessly vigorous lunch and that doggedly crude intellect that allowed the bulldog of a man to stay alive and thriving in the most dangerous parts of Gotham for nearly two decades. Grayson supposed that he could have been offended from the coarse greeting but time had also taught him that there was more than one way to express the comforts provided by the dark familiarities of Gotham City.

"Well, I just figured that I'd check in on you, Harv! I mean, it's not every day that a friend nearly gets themselves ventilated by a thug with a .357."

Bullock let out a bark of a bitter laugh as he chomped down on the toothpick that seemed to be a permanent fixture on the right side of his mouth. "Yeah, I was hopin' to keep that to a monthly shindig," he grumbled while jamming his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled jacket. "Guess you heard about that little brouhaha that Batsie and I stirred up over by Burnley? I swear, ya get a little fuckin' headway trying to keep all the street shit under wraps and then there's mooks like Intergang start getting to think that they can start climbin' up in the world. Ya figure that a guy who got booted out of The Oval Office wouldn't have so much stroke."

The former understudy of The Batman grimaced at the mention of Lex Luthor, the leader of the criminal movement that was attempting to draw Gotham back to its fabled history of rampant delinquency after the last several years of drastically reduced crime rates. "Shit. You think it's bad here? All he had to do was give Bludhaven a glimpse of his shiny head and he had his mitts on every city councilman and police sergeant that want to make an extra buck. I mean, it's one thing to have to deal with a bunch of Daggett's old troops but try having to deal with somebody who might just show up on the 10 o'clock news."

Harvey replied with a knowing grumble. After all, Bullock had first drawn attention from Batman after spending years on the take from one Gotham power player or another until bleeding hearts like Jim Gordon and Renee Montoya were able to convince him that there might have been a light at the end of the city's dark, murky tunnel. Additionally (and this was something the portly detective would never admit to), he respected Nightwing a great deal for sacrificing a better life in Gotham to try and make something out of Gotham's crime-riddled sister city. He was even preparing to make an insulting little dig at the pretty boy until they were interrupted by the soft slamming of a metal door that signaled the arrival of their assigned host.

"Oh, hey, commish," Bullock said in greeting with an oddly stern but jovial candor. "The Boy Blunder here wuz just talking about icing a city councilman."

Jim Gordon needed only a moment to defuse whatever potential situation there was to come with a stern glare towards his two younger compatriots. Adjusting the aged, black-rimmed spectacles so that it fit snugly against his creased, slightly crooked nose, the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department regarded the doleful-looking masked vigilante with a serious but sincere note of warmth. "It's good to see you back in town, Nightwing. Still, I would have thought that it would be a bit of an inconvenient detour for you given what's going on in your territory."

Grayson, his time already divided between serving as not just a regular on the Justice League but also as the shadowed guardian of Gotham's sister city, appreciated the sympathetic gesture with a sigh. "Well, if I'm being all the way truthful, I came here hoping that you guys might have something that could help lighten the load on my shoulders."

Bullock grumbled as his boss presented Nightwing with a simple manila file. All parties standing upon the rooftop, even those that had not perused the confidential documents that were tucked away inside the dossier, were already well aware of much of the tale that would be told by the information inside. Of course, as Nightwing leafed through the sheets of course printer paper and official state documents and scanned through the notes and numbers contained within he couldn't help but contain a smirk.

"It's exactly as The Calculator dug up, kiddo," Gordon said as he stepped closer to the Batsignal, his gentle baritone mixing with the hum of the nearby halogen lamp. "The top third of that file is nothing but a record of transaction pathways towards the private accounts of over 100 Bludhaven public workers. Everyone from the heads of construction firms to judges to councilmen and they're all getting these funds from fund foundations and trusts established by national bank branches right here in Gotham."

Nightwing quirked his lips as he ventured for the most obvious possibility. "And I'm guessing that these capital wells were set up shortly after the government's repeal of The No Man's Land Initiative?"

The sagacious commissioner responded with a firm nod. Having willingly stayed behind as the federal government had temporarily washed its hands of a Gotham City that had been ravaged by a series of earthquakes that ran as high as 8.5 on the Richter scale, Jim Gordon had always made certain to keep his memories of that dreadful year lodged firmly in his mind. "By that time the civil and financial institutions were just happy to have money coming in. They probably got so giddy that they could start reporting profits that they momentarily didn't care where the profits were coming from."

"Hmph. 'Temporarily', my dimpled ass," Bullock growled back, the robust and veteran law officer gnashing the right side of his teeth onto the ravaged toothpick trapped between them. "Wait a minute though. Weren't you guys responsible for makin' sure Luthor didn't get his mitts into this town? All that shit ya dug up about buying up property and whatsis?"

"Well, Lex's attempt to sweep up property when Gotham couldn't publically sell their land was actually illegal. This stuff right here is just ethically questionable," Nightwing replied while slamming the file shut with a tight _clap_. "Throw this stuff in front of any press agency and it'll just be taken as politics as usual. Meanwhile, as that smokescreen keeps going, it keeps giving the people who set up those funds the chance to take advantage of all the federal money that flooded into Gotham when the sanctions cleared and the relief efforts began. Build up enough of a profit margin and then you can still publically report a steady growth at the investors meetings while still having enough capital to divvy it out for a bunch of extracurricular activities."

"Activities such as helping to make Bludhaven stay just as corrupt as it's ever been," Gordon added, the old man far too experienced in unearthing dirty deeds to sound too disgusted by the notion. Breaking away from the shared understanding established with Batman's first junior partner, the former detective only needed to take a glance at Bullock to recognize that the big man was quickly growing annoyed with the effort required to understand it all. "Having trouble keeping up, Lieutenant?"

"Hey, I ain't paid to look at how the books are balanced. Just sounds to me like a bunch of money grubbin' rats trying to find a new shithole to clamber into after their cruise liners sank here in Gotham," Bullock announced after shrugging his shoulders. The stubby fingers of his right hand were momentarily encumbered with a thoroughly masticated sliver of wood before he casually flicked it to the ground. "Still, I ain't the one that's here to be Holmes with pointy ears. Right, Bats?"

Both Gordon and Grayson turned to the spot that Bullock had focused on to see Batman striding through the shadows. The fact that the former had been startled by the sudden arrival of Gotham's Dark Knight didn't surprise the grizzled investigator but the realization that the latter had been equally shocked and caught unawares prompted Bullock to smile. Smile and let out a loud cackle.

"HA! I spotted The Bat and da Boy Blunder didn't!" Bullock crowed even while forcing to stare down the scrunched facial muscles that heightened Nightwing's glare. "Don't look at me like that, elf shorts. It ain't my fault that life in that hoity toity space shuttle's makin' ya soft."

Just as Jim Gordon had done before him, Batman stifled the good-natured squabble by the weight of his glare. The clacking of his boots against the pavement mixed harshly with the commissioner cutting off the Batsignal with a dull click of the switch. "Luthor may still be preparing to make his grandiose public move but something must be done to shore up our defenses from any attack that could be launched from the political arena."

The commissioner frowned even as both Bullock and Nightwing gave grumbles of agreement. "I have to say that I'm uncomfortable about this, Batman. What you're asking me to sign off on sounds a lot like the same thing that we're going after these people for in the first place. Now I would be damn poor at my job if I couldn't accept the fact that there are some corrupt people that need to be accountable for their actions but the alliances you've made in the process to track these people down would look pretty ugly if they were ever brought up in the public eye."

"Well, if you don't mind me throwin' in my two cents. . ." Bullock's steps forward were far more shuffled and lumbering in nature than the agile, flowing strides of Batman but they still managed to hold their own form of weight and influence. "Ain't it our job to keep these streets safe? I don't see us tryin' to muck things up or make shit more difficult than they already are." The usually unsentimental detective caught Nightwing's bemused stare out of the corner of his eye and snarled at the domino-masked vigilante in a vain attempt to get him to cease. "Now if the Grove Street thugs want to start bringing guns into this town or leave bodies in the streets then we'll deal with that and the same goes for Luthor. That bein' said, ya sure this just ain't the cueball's shot at keeping some of your people distracted while he plans for something bigger?"

There was a slight slump in Batman's broad shoulders that offered more words than he would have cared to provide. "I've got people looking into the larger arenas already. That means it's up to Huntress, Nightwing, and myself to search the avenues of Intergang and force their hand before Luthor starts employing the brunt of his forces."

"Yeah. And that's supposed to happen in. . . what? About a week from now? Accordin' to the little coffee chat you and he had?" Bullock's plump fingers displayed a deceptive swiftness as he reached into the front of his coat pocket and emerged with a fresh toothpick that he promptly jammed between his teeth. "Don't suppose that you guys still have any of those Green Lantern gizmos still laying on a shelf somewhere, do ya?"

Quite obviously deprived of the chance to make an exit in their usual argot, Batman and Nightwing merely turned about and fired their grappling lines at the roof of the nearby Bank of America high rise before dashing off and gliding away. This turn of events inevitably left Commissioner Gordon to deliver an exasperated glare that Bullock casually evaded with another nod of his shoulders.

"What? I liked that thing!"

* * *

_8:41 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"You realize where all this comes from, right? This whole obsession about image and self-esteem and the hypocrisy of it? This just provides another prime example."

Roy Harper took a moment to roll his eyes, a common reaction that he deployed in past arguments with the gentleman stalking alongside him. "Yes, because what America needs to hear about public health must be received from a man who hails from the land of the squat, double-chinned stomach eaters."

"Don't start with the deflecting this early in the contest, Harper. That speaks ill of you," cautioned Lloyd Thomas, the undercurrents of his West London brogue providing another symbol of his British heritage if Harper's coarse stereotyping hadn't been enough. "Millions of Americans flock to their televisions every two years to see these stick figures launch themselves about to elevator music. Then these gymnasts and skaters spend the next couple months being treated like they found the cure for bleedin' cancer. Now these girls and their mums watch them and all the little Hollywood tarts with the 20-inch waists and they get it into their fool heads that they need to look like them, forgetting of course that these people actually have the finances to hone themselves into that kind of physique and body chemistry."

"This is all just about the fact that you'll never get a six-pack as nice as mine, isn't it?"

The half-demon vigilante known as The Black Dog filed away the involuntary sucking of his tiny gut as a matter of circumstance. "Come on! We both read the study! Thirty-five percent of Americans are categorized as obese and that proportion is getting higher by the year. That means a good portion of your country consists of overweight pigs whose very culture nurtures them into believing that they have to look like something they can't while reassuring them that it's all right to be the way they are. 'Oh, those models and gymnasts aren't real women! This magazine said that the thin look is out. Oh, and look on the next page! It's an advert for the latest brand of bleedin' Dove bar.' I mean, is it that hard to figure out that these people are being played for fools? Why not just try and find a bleedin' medium and install some moderation in your life so you don't have to spend your entire life guided about like marionettes?"

"Eh, I was more concerned about what happens to all those Olympic athletes after the world stops rotating around them," Roy cast his eyes to the posh roof of their surroundings, the expert marksman admiring the fine polish of the wood that lay below the enchanted brick while continuing to keep notice of a more pressing situation. "Thank God we went into being superheroes, huh? 'Cause this here is just the embodiment of a long-term career choice."

Lloyd weathered the sarcasm with a soft grin as he joined Roy in looking upward. "Well, there _are _some perks to getting into what we do," the magician reasoned as his usually hazel eyes briefly flickered with a fraction of gray. "Like havin' the opportunity of seeing the world's first ever spider-girl, for starters."

The former Checkmate agent known as Arsenal among his fellow professionals offered his friend a smirk of his own as his ears were treated to a familiar wave of laughter. Soon his eyes were able to take hold of his daughter as she swung in front of him. The fact that she was actually upside down might have been disconcerting to most but all Roy needed was the sight of the golden string-like tendril of energy that extended from Lian's wrist and stretched to the ceiling above. He played at snatching his little treasure but was slow enough to allow his daughter to rise up and out of his reach with another giggle and a brighter smile. He was even on the verge of launching into an overdramatic outrage that he hoped would give the coffee-colored youth another laugh when a whistle of a gust and a blur of red snatched Lian away from him. His instincts kicked in with a quickness before being tempered as reason began to take hold, or at least as much as someone could be reasonable upon realizing that his child was in the grasp of a demon.

"At ease, Harper," Lloyd cautioned while watching the scene of merriment and simmering annoyance from afar. "Remember. Bloomberg's been working to learn how to better control his body temperature. Look. Lian doesn't have a burn on her."

The truth of the matter wasn't enough to keep Roy from lowering the critical glare he had targeted at Edward Bloomberg, the half-demon known to the world as the beastly Teen Titan, Kid Devil. A former studio gopher who had longed to live out the adventures told in the movies he had watched bring to life, Eddie once made a deal with a greater demon that imbued him with the power of a beast in exchange for his soul and eternal servitude upon his 21st birthday. The unholy magic that still coursed through the half-demon's veins had transformed him from an unremarkable youth with ginger hair and a gangly physique into a red-skinned humanoid with glowing yellow eyes, grey hair that flowed down to the nape of his neck and a lithe, muscular frame that included flap-like pockets of muscle and sinew along his upper arms that enabled him to soar through the sky (and catch swinging youngsters).

"Sorry for startling you there, Roy," Eddie said politely, his gentle face radiating with compassionate regret that somehow didn't look awkward on his demonic visage. "But see? No burns?" he pointed out as he allowed Lian to leap from his grasp. "You know, it might get a little stuffy here at the manor but all this training I've been getting has really done a world of good. I think I might actually be getting a hand on these powers of mine."

The Black Dog continued to quietly observe the scene from afar while choosing not to scoff at Eddie's brusque description of his lot in life. The fact of the matter was that Bloomberg's very existence should have been in the clutches of Neron, the aforementioned greater demon that had tempted the boy into a bargain so that the eternal trickster could have a passageway into the world above. It took a great deal of sacrifice and toil from his nearest and dearest to break the boy free from his self-inflicted curse and he briefly wondered if the teenager even recognized that his hands should have been stained with the blood of Cecilia King-Jones, the good friend that had given her life in that hard-fought battle but the part of him that wished to be a wise leader ignored the temptation. He knew that Bloomberg was the type to prefer good humor and continuous effort rather than rumination and dwelling upon the past.

Besides, it wasn't as if his current surroundings were entirely devoid of such naysayers. That fact presented its truth in the form of an eternal sorcerer that had shuffled his way towards Kid Devil's back with a practiced silence. The certainty that he had caught his student unawares only seemed to further sour his already cynical disposition as he ran a worn hand through his auburn hair, his deft fingertips grazing the silver-white streaks that ran above his ears.

"So good of you to take pride in the excessive toil that others endure to drill some minute bits of useful information into that worthless skull of yours," Jason Blood informed his charge with a smooth, practiced annoyance that prompted both Eddie and Lian to startle in surprise. "Perhaps now I can hope that you will continue to remember the privilege of your dubious inheritance and continue your training rather than dawdling away your time pretending to be a thieving clown."

The same awkward remorse that had appeased Lloyd and Roy failed to garner similar results with the former student of Merlin. As a human who had spend two thousand years steeped within Earth's supernatural activities as the host for the demon Etrigan, Blood was perhaps the foremost expert as it came to the responsibilities that came with mystic manipulation. . . and the penalties for using that power unwisely. Perhaps seeking a source that would better understand his plight, the skilled mystic, necromancer, and summoner turned to greet the scion of The Condemner.

"You are in better health than I expected, Mister Thomas. I would have anticipated that a mystic of your limited experience would have already burst apart at the seams from the strain of holding in a greater demon."

Lloyd reigned in a snort and a scoff and kept his expression flat and civil as Lian ran past them on her way to the kitchen. "I return that astonishment back to you, sorcerer," he replied, the palpable tension mingling quite deftly with the chaotic but muffled stomps of Lian's feet against the soft carpeting. "I can't imagine how someone so steeped within the darker magicks could ever really feel comfortable in a place like Zatara Manor. If I were the suspicious type I could suspect that your darker half has something a bit more sinister than teaching in mind."

Blood remained civil and neutral just as his younger contemporary had. It would not do for the elder official of the supernatural to display a fault that was overcome by their junior. "Then be appeased by my compliments of the energy the both of you placed into bringing this dwelling back to its full state of standing," he offered while stretching his arms wide, the wrinkles of his gray business suit smoothing out as if even his wardrobe seemed to be appeased by the gentle, reconstructed mansion. And, indeed, it was true that both Lloyd and Roy had played significant roles in the restoration of the mystical dwelling that stood proudly against the eastern cape of The Hudson River where the supernatural rumblings spawned over the course of the last two centuries still ran thick if you knew where to look for it. The domicile had been annihilated at Neron's behest and desire to instill fear in those that directly opposed him so it was only natural that Bruce Wayne would see that he put his finest hands in putting things back the way they should have been to the point where even the eternally blasé avatar of Etrigan seemed to sport a genuine sense of approval to the work that had been done.

"Well, you've got our appreciation then, old man," Lloyd replied with a softer state of gentility. "I don't suppose that your new domicile has helped you suss out what Circe wanted from your darker half?"

Jason's beetle-black eyes sharpened at the mention of this particularly thorny dilemma, another matter that had reared its ugly head during the long day to retake Hashmalamum from Neron's clutches. "Sadly, no. Moreover my detached conferences with the demon have led me to the conclusion that not even Etrigan is fully aware of Circe's intentions. Hopefully the supernatural undercurrents within this supernatural nucleus will offer greater elucidation not just on this but on why Luthor and Ishmael Gregor took such a risk to acquire the _Kikiuchi-monji_.

Now it was The Black Dog's turn to grimace at his own shortcomings, the memory of having the inheritance he earned from his oldest friend and greatest enemy taken away still sticking firmly in his metaphorical craw. "Well, I have consulted Pallas Athena on the matter and she assures me that the spirit of Vincent Culp was not within the katana. Whatever they may want with the mystic blade has nothing to do with bringing back either him or the demon that inhabited him."

"Yeah, well, if that sweet lookin' butter knife has half the mojo that you put in your sword then you'll pardon me if I stay concerned," Roy bluntly butted in, the sharpshooter's good humor returning quickly with the safe exodus of his daughter. "And don't forget that this might have just as much to do with science as it does with magic. I mean, I've got a gun here in my hip holster that can start a minor earthquake with a press of a button and if the Karbarrans can make something like that then imagine what Luthor could do with something that already had magic in it to begin with!"

Jason Blood made no effort to withhold his derision this time. "Feh. Science. There's yet to be a single calamitous instance where technology has served as anything more than the parasite leeching off the supernatural. Focus on the elements that lie around and underneath the earth and then you'll have no problem understanding what lies in front of your eyes."

"And you should have seen the view of Piccadilly Square in the evening time, Zatanna. Nothing but torch lights and song and dance. . . oh, I could have spent eternity there."

Lloyd's interest perked up once again at the sound of a familiar voice and his keen eyes soon sent him searching down the corridor that Lian had scampered through only moments before. Two women were walking down the hall to meet them and they both drew the recollection of pleasant memories in the thoughts of the British telepath. However, while Zatanna Zatara's bright smile, vivacious candor, and hypnotizing violet eyes forced him only to briefly consider how Noah Kuttler had managed to charm such an enticing female into a steadily escalating relationship despite his dearth of social mannerisms it was the woman speaking to the talented witch that briefly brought him to pause. It was a consequence of his lonely past, of five years spent in an underground global government facility confined within a prison of glass and plastic. Those days, hours and minutes were flooded with isolation, fear, and confusion of the unknown but there was a lone, calming presence that helped him keep what he liked to think to be a rational state of mind.

Naomi Mitchell. The closest thing he ever had to a mother. And, as fate would have it, a woman apparently quite interested in discussing how she had been wined and dined by a dreadfully familiar suitor.

"So Richard and I woke up the next morning at the crack of dawn so that we could take a hike to the Falkirk Fields to watch the sunrise. We spent all day in the mountains," Naomi reported with her erudite sounding British candor. "Honestly, Zatanna, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was as if we had the world to ourselves. Then the night came and we're having the most succulent lobster I've ever tasted at this little pub just on the outskirts of Dublin. . ."

"Paging Doctor Mitchell," Lloyd interrupted before Roy's knowing smirk could tempt him into caving in the redhead's skull. As he expected, the raven-haired Oxford graduate had a slight flush to her cheeks upon realizing that her former test subject was nearby but that trepidation was soon replaced with a gentle smile as she rushed to embrace the half-demon. The Black Dog felt no shame sighing into the gesture, his height advantage allowing his chin to find purchase in the crook of Naomi's left shoulder. "Cor, it's good to see you, Doc."

Pulling away from the embrace, Naomi still looked a bit chagrined. "So sorry about that, Lloyd. I know that you've been. . . accepting. . . of my relationship with Richard."

"Oh, no. That's fine. Nothing I like more than hearing my former guardian discussing the pregame activities that came before she engaged in tawdry activities with my adopted elder brother. Please. Go on."

"Now that's just downright unprofessional behavior," Zatanna noted, the sorceress keeping loyal to this odd tradition among mystics by letting out a snort of her own. Dressed as she was in an airy black peasant blouse and charcoal shorts that presented a fair amount of her famous legs, the 40-year-old mystic didn't appear to be the least bit threatening. In fact, without the top hat, fishnet stockings, and tuxedo jacket that had come to be her trademark look as both a stage magician and member of The Justice League, she looked quite appropriate in her role as an open ear for Naomi's glowing testimonies. "That just isn't any way for a child to be treating the world's preeminent expert on supernatural genetics and eldritch transference."

"Well, I would hardly regard my skills that highly." Naomi was still hedging and even tucked a stray wisp of black hair behind her pale right ear but there was a morsel of confidence in her chocolate-brown eyes that betrayed her. The offering of a compliment was viewed as a challenge by one demanding portion of her vibrant mind and the former caretaker behind the construction of two of the most dangerous biological weapons in humanity's history was eager to meet it. "However, I would suppose that this would be a more judicious way of devoting my education than looking after children at the monastery."

"Okay. So, now that we have everybody here, what's say we take a sit down in the kitchen so we can relax while mulling our matters over," suggested Zatanna as she easily took on the task of an affable hostess. "Who knows? Maybe I can actually convince Jason to eat some food that was actually meant for humans!"

Most were wise enough to ignore Jason Blood's distempered grumble as they followed Zatanna into the dining hall. The only one who hadn't, in fact, was the creature that should have had the greatest supply of wherewithal to know better and thus Eddie's quick spurt of laughter was quickly met with a wintry glare that served as an order to the half-demon to proceed to their destination in absolute silence.

And at least Eddie had enough sense to do so.

* * *

_5:46 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Kara Zor-el had felt assaulted from the moment she had stepped foot in Titans Tower. Her discomfort continued to ebb and flow as she eventually made her way through the massive edifice that stood amongst the shoals of San Francisco Bay, the impressive building that had become as much of a symbol of San Francisco's thriving sprawl as The Golden Gate Bridge. Having been beset, damaged, and even literally torn apart by forces that sought to divide and conquer rather than unite and flourish, the city had made certain that each new reconstruction made the finished product stronger than that which had fallen before. Combine that mighty gesture of faith with the recognition that the tower had proudly served as the home and training ground for the next generation of superheroes and the half-Kryptonian knew that she should have been encouraged by it all but yet it wasn't so.

"So Kanye and Kim are planning on having this _30 million dollar _wedding ceremony and there's even a rumor that she's going to have a Themysciran seamstress design her dress. Of course, when that news broke TMZ is trying to bust down our door asking me to confirm it and then I have to talk them down since they don't even bother talking to Diana after the whole diplomatic incident last year. I mean, I know it isn't exactly what I signed up for when I joined the Titans but it's part of the superhero thing, you know? People gave up some of their tax dollars to help rebuild the tower so I guess it's not right to just slam the door in the public's face."

She had been trained, crafted even, to endure the harshest theaters of war but she had no training for anything like this. The harsh honesty shone brightly within the blank look in her eyes with the intensity of Praxis's scarlet sun.

"Well, at least the new season of _The Big Bang Theory _starts up in a few weeks. Ooh, I really hope Leonard gets some more camera time. Sheldon is cool but I'm really getting tired of all the attention he gets. And I know that most people aren't watching _Gossip Girl _anymore but I still do. I don't know. Maybe it's just going back to my days at Elias, y'know? Bunch of girls just plotting and scheming and thinking their lives are just soooo important?"

Racking her mind from its self-induced delirium, Kara struggled desperately to search for a point of safety. She scrunched up her eyes while her ears shut themselves away from the chatter that continued to rain down upon her, her powerful senses honed by over five years of training and warfare working swiftly to zero in on any possible source of victory.

"Um, Cassie? I don't really want to get off the point but. . . just what do the other Teen Titans like to talk about?"

Cassandra Sandsmark, the 20-year-old Elias graduate known more to the world as Wonder Girl, offered an uncomfortably bright smile. "Oh, just the normal things, I guess," she replied, her shoulder-length blonde hair swishing along her neck as the daughter of Zeus briefly turned her head away. "Whenever Beast Boy isn't talking sports with Cyborg he's all about the harmless flirting. I guess Cyborg is all right but he's got a whole bunch of stuff to do. Like keeping the tower running and serving as the go between for all the people that send us off on alerts. Raven. . . really doesn't do the whole talking thing and Mia and Tim are really focused on their own training. . ."

It might have been a little odd to most people to see Wonder Girl, a heroine with the courage and conviction to endure a series of hellish trials just to hear the final words of a departed friend, looking uncomfortable over what should have been a simple question. Of course, Kara herself had grown quite familiar with the ability to excel in some of life's trickier areas of expertise while failing woefully at something that most would consider to be a simple matter of course. And, with that experience in mind, she remained silent and calmly allowed the fair-haired Teen Titan to recover herself.

"Virgil is all right but he's usually pretty busy with his own patrol work. Eddie's always a fun guy to be around with but now he's either in training or hanging around with Rose. And Rose. . . well. . ." That was all Sandsmark could get out before she ducked her head, an unmistakable and somewhat incomprehensible flicker of shame in her eyes.

Kara was quick to take up the burden. "Wow. You _really _need somebody to talk to, don't you?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Cassandra replied, the admission so quick and her smile so filled with relief that both ladies couldn't help but laugh. "I mean, yeah, I'm not some social butterfly, y'know, but _come on_! Is there just one person I can vent out my frustrations without having to play Madden or get into an hour long sparring session? What about books and movies and. . . and television and stuff!"

The former Supergirl gave Cassandra a reassuring smile as the adopted Amazon recovered from her relief. "Well, I've been getting into the Dresden series recently, I don't know if you've read those or not?" Cassandra shook her head but it seemed that the simple joy in the mere attempt to discuss something someone else would consider normal seemed to more than make up for the lack of shared information. "And. . . I'm sorry but I'm really not an expert on stuff on the television. I. . . um. . . I watch _Walking Dead_!"

"Ooh! Ooh! Somebody said _Walking Dead!_" exclaimed a previously unheard presence who swept out of the room that Cassandra and Kara had just passed. Kara recognized her instantly from the handful of past instances she had come across Mia Dearden, the youthful former junior partner of Green Arrow, and was once again struck painfully by the girl's uncanny resemblance to Cecilia. Granted, Mia's eyes were a bright shade of green rather than Cecilia's blue irises and the Teen Titan sported a slightly stringier frame with longer arms and legs made up by narrower shoulders but everything else reeked of her fallen friend. The long, blonde hair wrapped into a haphazard ponytail, the bubbly and snarky demeanor, and her prodigious skill with the bow and arrow all brought Kara back to memories of someone who had the courage to fight alongside gods. And, if that wasn't enough, Oliver Queen then poked his head out from the same room to hammer the memories home. The goateed marksman had obviously been talking with his current student and former patrol partner.

"Come on! Leave the poor fitness models alone, ya little brat!" Green Arrow said while trying and failing to drag Mia back inside. "I need ya to keep dishing the dirt on Conner and how he's doing in Star City. And what did I tell you about people that got to resort to crossbows?"

"Your kid is just fine!" Mia snarled back, the vigilante known as Speedy emphasizing her annoyance even while following her mentor's orders. "And _enough _with the crossbow thing! Norman Reedus is awesome and you're just a bitter, old hater!"

Kara shook her head while turning her ears away from the playful but escalating argument between the two fair-haired archers from Star City. "Well, it's not like you're completely blocked off from the world, right? I think it's just more important to first focus your time on finding things that you can be interested in that don't have anything to do with our work. As long as you have something you can come home to and just be comfortable with doing alone then you'll feel better about trying to find people that you can spend other parts of your time with."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Cassandra allowed, the former Young Justice member still somewhat distracted by the debate at their backs.

"I happen to know she's right. Now, Wonder Girl, if you wouldn't mind, could you please bring Miss Zor-el up here? I promise that you can have her back when the briefing is over."

The genteel chiding may have been originally heard through the speakers that bordered the door to Speedy's personal quarters but Kara's extraordinarily sharp senses allowed her to instantly pinpoint the source of the spoken word from nearly three stories away. Rarely one to display rudeness or impulsivity, the half-Kryptonian waited patiently as Cassandra suffused the color that dotted her momentarily flushed cheeks before guiding her towards the overseer of the most prominent group of vigilantes within the western half of America.

And, oh, had Victor Stone come to look the part. Once little more than a star high school football player just looking for a good education and an eventual trip to the pros, a horrific automobile accident had decimated his powerful physique and made him a shell of his former self. However, this husk also drew the attention of a robotics division at S.T.A.R. Labs that were quite interested in seeing if they could take what was once a paragon of physical prominence and rebuild him into something more. Nearly 200 million dollars of research and material was enough to restore Victor back to his full strength with plenty of room to spare and the teenager that had always looked for a way to excel in what he trained to do suddenly found a wide variety of new fields and contests with which to test his pride. That quest began in earnest with his recruitment into The Teen Titans by Dick Grayson and continued to evolve through the many permutations the group of young superheroes had gone through and the many improvements and upgrades that he had helped design for himself in the seven years since. Now 25 years old, he had fashioned the Titans into a well-oiled machine with all the care and efficiency that he had placed into his own robotic frame, a silver and white shell that served as the centerpiece for his massive, six-foot-six, now 700 pound work of scientific art.

Kara presented a gentle and genuine smile. "Hello, Cyborg. It's always nice to see time being kind to a fellow Misfit."

The crimson colored fiberoptic lens that now served as Cyborg's left eye let out a glimmer. "No offense but I never really considered myself to be one of y'all," Victor replied even while striding forward to accept Kara's offered hand. "I'm glad that I was able to help you guys do what needed doin' but I'll always be a Teen Titan."

"Yeah, quick question about that," interrupted another recognizable voice, this one belonging to the other gentleman that had joined Kara for this trip across the country. "Just how many actual 'teens' are there on the Teen Titans now anyway?"

Once more prone to giving in to a loud and boisterous display, the Victor Stone in the present day only gave Wally West a wry smile. "Weren't you the one who was always insisting 'Titans Forever'?" The mention of that particularly embarrassing flicker of Wally's past life as a Teen Titan founder was enough to put the speedster in his place and left Cyborg with the assurance that he could continue. "Besides, I signed on with what you guys were doing because I agreed with Batman that this was the best place for Tim to become what he is now. I may have had some problems hiding what you guys were really doing from the rest of the good guys but y'all are doin' something that's necessary, something that somebody like Drake shouldn't have any kind of part of."

Kara offered back a sympathetic grimace. She hadn't known a great deal about Batman and Cyborg's joint efforts in keeping Timothy Drake in San Francisco but enough time had gone by to allow her to understand why both gentlemen would think it to be necessary. "We still thought he would have tried to come back after what happened to Connor Kent," she unnecessarily confessed, the mention of one of the many soldiers that had fallen in the frenetic battle for Metropolis resolving both her and Victor to exchange a knowing look. "Still, we're not here for that. Intergang has been stirring up trouble all along the west coast and both you and Batman tell me that it's because Luthor wants to take a bite out of you."

Cyborg nodded briefly while stretching his left hand and splaying his fingers in the direction of the starkly empty side of his otherwise machinery-dominated chamber. A soft, greenish-white light gently flowed from his fingertips as he sent a digital command to the nearby audiovisual projection equipment to create a map of the California coast that was festooned with nearly a dozen red dots. "These are all spots struck by the Metallo duplicates just over the last two weeks. A couple of them could have been mistaken for raids on industrial blocks or commercial districts but the vast majority of these instances started up in places that would draw a big crowd. Two of them were in public parks, one was over by the San Francisco Aquarium, and the biggest one was just outside ThreeCom Park just before a Giants game."

"Attacking places like that would attract some attention," Kara naturally assumed. Then, putting a little more thought into it she added, "Particular if you wanted to assure the citizenry that they should still be afraid."

Victor offered another knowing bob of his head as he changed the video display with a twitch of his fingers. "There's no hiding the fact that there's still a lot of unease out there. The big brouhaha started up by Sebastian Blood was bad enough but then you throw in the occupation by The Sinestro Corps about a year back and you're left with a lot of people on their guard. Mix that up with all the other smaller blowups that go with cities that get caught up in metahuman conflicts and you're left with folks that have a lot of room to be frightened. . . or influenced that somebody else might have a better way of keeping the peace."

"But why focus on the Titans?" Kara couldn't help but ask, her eyes momentarily drawn to the images of newspaper clippings describing all the instances that Cyborg had mentioned and a handful more. "He's basically left The Justice League alone in the weeks leading up to his deadline but he tries to drive you guys into the mud? Why?"

There was another flicker of light that Kara caught out of the corner of her eye but this one didn't come from Cyborg. This was a glimmer of gold that served as a precursor for the kinetic lightning that empowered The Flash as his once jocular countenance turned quite serious.

"Better buckle up for this, Kare Bear. You're getting yourself involved in a family affair."

* * *

_Gotham – 9:41 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Helena recognized that she should have been feeling fairly frustrated after her lengthy investigation of Luthor bought properties on the periphery of Robinson Park yielded absolutely nothing worthy of note. She could have been dismayed at the thought that she had essentially been sent on a fool's errand searching potential problem sites that any criminal worth their rap sheet would have cleared out only a few days after the repeal of The No Man's Land mandate, much less five years after Gotham's reannexation and three years after the bald-headed bastard had gone underground. There was even the nagging reminder that she now owed Noah Kuttler several favors since the computer expert had not only provided some long-distance company during the night's patrol but also was kind enough to grade nearly 50 term papers that she had not had the time to get to during her free period. Keeping all that in mind, as she continued to glide above and between the aging but strapping brownstone buildings that dominated North Burnley, the raven-haired vigilante and patrol partner of Gotham's Dark Knight was feeling unusual giddy.

After all, The Huntress had always been a fan of confrontation. And, judging from the barely concealed and expectant smirk of her opponent, the rival that awaited her as the heels of purplish-black knee-high work boots stamped down firmly on the gravel crown of Berk Industrials seemed to be just as excited for the games to begin as she.

"So what's this all about? Is the belly shirt in the wash today or did your 'daddy' say that it was inappropriate?"

Helena gnashed her teeth as she was forced to mull over her error in judgment. If she had been more secretive about her arrival then she would have had the time to have her zip line curl back into her grappling gun. As it was she was forced by discipline to make certain that her mode of transport returned itself to its fully functioning form and the time that took allowed the appropriately named Dick Grayson to have the first shot. "I abandoned my old uniform weeks ago, pretty boy. Maybe you'd have realized that if you weren't so busy dolling yourself up for the cameras and hunting for MILFs."

Dressed in the charcoal black and blue bodysuit that identified him to the world as Nightwing, Richard Grayson crossed his arms across his chest while casually leaning back against the tip of the stairwell to his right. "Hey, I'll have you know that there's only one MILF that I'm on the lookout for. And, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe the DILF that you've managed to get your hooks into was the one that convinced you to stop looking like someone auditioning for the next season of _Jersey Shore_."

Huntress took a moment to regard her metaphorical wounds while keeping her eyes tasked with examining the charming asshole that seemed to be eager to get on her bad side. "Why is it just not enough for you to be content that a strong, independent woman like me once threw a bone at a poor, dysfunctional wretch like you and gave you a few memorable nights, Dickie? Why just go parading it all around?" Helena glided forward as she bridged the gap between her, Grayson, and his playful grin, the both of them not bothering to hide their eagerness. "I mean, are you telling me that Gotham's closest equivalent to a Kardashian doesn't have some other things to crow over?"

"**I **would hope that the both of you would have something more important to talk about."

The third person on the rooftop, the enigmatic presence that had served as Dick and Helena's foremost guide throughout their professional lives, made himself known with a well-practiced growl. Of course, that hardly stopped either Huntress or Nightwing from betraying little more than a morsel of guilt as they turned to face the night's taskmaster. In response, Batman did not display a remorseless glare or expand the sweeping black cape that hung at his back like he would to a cornered purse snatcher or a patrolman that needed reassurance that help was at hand. That wasn't what the situation called for and all parties involved recognized that any dramatic gesture would have only served to gum up the works of what they had all been trained to do.

"I'm guessing you talked to Calculator about this already but there wasn't anything to be found over by Robinson Park," The Huntress began before her comrade could ask the obvious question to come. "Did the intel collected by the commissioner turn up anything new?"

"Little more than what we didn't already suspect," Nightwing replied, the former child acrobat also returning to his usual professional manner. "The private coffers and funds that Bruce and Talia weren't able to dissolve after Luthor's impeachment are estimated to be worth somewhere in the range of 15 billion dollars and it hardly takes even a fraction of that to get your mitts into a corrupt city framework like Bludhaven. Not to mention that there are so many different contractors and construction barons that it'd be pretty easy to rent a place out to stash stuff without anybody really batting an eye and it's all legal."

"Legal immoralities have always been the main attraction of Luthor's playground," Batman pointed out, the white lenses of his cowl concealing the detective's irritation. "But purchases like that still require a paper trail. Councilmen have to be bribed or threatened in order to present and endorse zoning ordinances. There have to be people that are willing to accept all the dirty money sliding under the table so that Luthor can get his goods stored and transported."

"Yeah, well, that's where the G.C.P.D. may have a one up on us," Nightwing countered, his right hand balled up in a fist that drummed a random bit against his hip as he allowed the words to sink in. "Private auditors have begun to zero in on Kendall Steiff, the city councilman for Bludhaven's seventh district. Unremarkable record as it comes to votes and nominations but investigators have been trying to find some solid tracks between him and some of the most exclusive nightspots and entertainment establishments in Gotham. High-end stripper joints, the big betting rings along The East End and so on. None of it is enough to make something stick but they're well on their way to working their way up to a warrant and a public investigation."

"By the time that happens Luthor will have already removed him, one way or another," Batman reminded his former understudy, the eldest of the three vigilantes turning his back to look out over the city. "We're running out of inside sources into Lex's operation and the deadline is fast approaching. We need to track down this lead and see where it takes us."

"Well, it's not like we can just show up at the next city council meeting and launch a batarang at his head," Huntress noted in a matter-of-fact manner as she and Nightwing traded a knowing look. "That means we're either going to be tracking this guy where he lives. . ."

"Which should raise a few eyebrows if somebody with a lot of surveillance equipment manages to know where we're going," noted Nightwing.

". . . or we get this guy at one of these slime dens he frequents before going home to see the wife and kids," Helena continued on, the hot-tempered woman firing an irritated glance at Nightwing for his unspoken insinuation. "That means we have to figure out where this guy is going and who he's talking to and the quickest way of doing that is. . ."

Batman didn't withhold his distempered growl this time. Huntress had managed to realize it was coming a moment before it happened so she managed to tone down her response to a quiet gritting of her teeth that was easily muted by the sound of Batman's grappling gun firing off into the night with its wielder close behind. The heavy ruffling of her partner's cape briefly dominated her senses but it still wasn't quite enough to keep Helena from hearing the footsteps at her back.

"Huh. He took that with even more broodiness than _I _was expecting," Nightwing confessed as he watched his father figure swinging off into the distance. "I mean, I heard the last confrontation didn't go too well but. . ."

"Oh, it went a lot worse than 'not too well'," The Huntress huffed back while sporting a glum smile. "Almost makes me want to give a prayer to The Almighty so that I can endure the drama to come." She noticed a moment later that Dick was smirking and the expression only grew stronger with her desperation. "Okay, 'Trust Fund'. What's with the goofy grin?"

Nightwing's grin turned just a shade brighter. "Oh, nothing," he casually answered. "Although maybe now is the time to tell you that I invited somebody else to come along. I just sort of figured that a bird bearing honey would have a better shot at coaxing out that righteous grump than a bat full of vinegar."

Lacking the opaque lenses sported by her comrades, the confusion in The Huntress's jade eyes was plain to see. "What the hell are you talking about? Why are you talking about. . . birds. . ."

First Nightwing's smile became so wide that it seemed that he could barely hold it in.

Then Huntress understood what he meant.

Then Huntress realized that she should have gone with the first guess of her instincts.

Tonight was going to be _fun_.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

__Well, it's been a while hasn't it? Things have been getting unusually busy here in the land of Matt the Batman Fan but I'm back here trying to get back on an even keel. I also just recently found out that the reboot is apparently responsible for the death of Helena Bertenelli so apparently I am writing for another dead girl. Have I just become The Kiss of Death for DC heroines? Is there any chance that I could put this to good use? Maybe you guys can shoot me a review complete with recommendations about who you want me to ki. . . er, write about in my award-winning series! Until then I'll give you some clues about what happens next!

* * *

_Issue #145 Preview  
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__So wasn't Stephanie supposed to go on wacky adventures with Hal Jordan? And what are Lloyd and Roy going to talk about with Naomi Mitchell? What does Lex Luthor have against the Teen Titans and just who is Dick and Helena's source of glee? Find out this and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Stealing Life Through the Skies. Until then remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	145. Stealing Life Through the Skies

Issue #145

Stealing Life Through the Skies

_Zatara Manor – 8:51 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

"Say that you move into a new home or apartment and reside there for an extended period of time. The basic structural elements and general usages of the items that you place within the domicile will remain largely unchanged but every living creature is ingrained with a determination to reshape or adjust their environments to fit the needs and desires that they assemble throughout their very existences. Just as an expectant mother cardinal will expand and deepen the base of their nests to provide room and greater comfort for their hatchlings, creatures who are able to employ and manipulate supernatural energy can either consciously or unconsciously employ this energy to reshape the very devices that allow them to draw the comfort and emotional clarity required to summon the strength of will to pull off feats that others without such power would believe to be impossible. One could even consider it as an extrapolation of an illusionist designing their props to manipulate the audience into believing that the impossible is possible. These preparations enable them to grow more comfortable with the feat they wish to perform and it is that thirst for familiarity and assurance that is the very basis of supernatural transference."

Naomi Mitchell interrupted her explanation to cast her glance about the room to examine the others that were sitting around the table. Noting Jason Blood's obvious boredom, the patient interest on the expressions of Lloyd, Roy and Zatanna, and the utter befuddlement that seemed to radiate from Eddie's glimmering tawny eyes, the doctor identified nothing unexpected of note and returned to her work.

"Please bear in mind that this practice is not merely limited towards the reshaping of items that are integral to the role of casting magic," the Oxford graduate tactfully mentioned while running the flat of her left hand across her shoulder to smooth out a minute ruffle that had cropped up along her white blouse. "Lloyd, you mentioned Stephanie's continued coagulation between her Oan power ring and her altering physiology? Though I am not an expert on the instruments of the Green Lanterns I can safely hypothesize that Robin was equipped with enough will power, the fuel that ignites the nucleus of the ring's base of energy as it were, to subconsciously craft a more efficient way of dispersing her supernatural energy. It would be no different than a wizard crafting a stave or wand to serve as a focal point for gathering the energy to perform a feat that they could not accomplish otherwise or, to bring the metaphor full circle, expanding a bookshelf to hold more books or moving a chair or table that you would believe would look nicer someone else."

"A suitable explanation, if utterly devoid of any description of the eldritch undertakings involved or anything outside humanity's forced compliance with science and principles."

Still well within her own secure milieu, Naomi raised her eyebrows at Jason Blood's dubious retort and felt quite equal to the gentleman that was several millennia her senior. "Or let us use Mister Blood's linkage with the greater demon Etrigan as an example," she said simply with only a hint of tart. "Mister Blood knows enough of supernatural combat to recognize that restrictive attire like the expensive suits he tends to wear can be detrimental in combat. That is why his demonic half employs loose-fitting attire that allows for greater dexterity and comfort when performing black magic. Jason clearly fears, or is at least nervous of, any window of opportunity that allows Etrigan to gain greater control over his body than it is already allowed and thusly he seeks environments and situations that allow him confinement and control. He prefers living in simple apartment lofts rather than employing his boundless fortune to buy a mansion or other sprawling residence. He keeps his emotions inward and dispenses them in unsavory fashions to avoid allowing grander examples to escape and thus offer greater room for a creature with far greater emotional wherewithal."

There was more than a hint of pride in Lloyd's smirk as he watched Jason stiffen with each true statement. Still, to the elder enchanter's credit, the human host of Etrigan calmly undid a single button on the cuff of his right wrist and the relenting gesture forced The Black Dog to rein in a chuckle. "Okay. So that's all we need to know about how it _could_ happen," Lloyd pointed out as he watched Blood place his palms on the table. "The question now is if it's happened and that's why Luthor and Sabbac are so interested in the blade."

Naomi made certain to look straight away at the boy she had watched grow into a man and communicated what was necessary with a sour smile. "Vincent always had a more visceral approach as it came to the magic given to him by his demon, Lloyd. Magical transference requires a degree of cognitive clarity that I don't believe that he could ever achieve." The doctor watched the truth hit close to Lloyd's heart and the sight felt like a punch to her gut. _To think that a child who had been through so much could have that kind of loyalty in a monster that had stolen so much from him. . ._ "There is also the matter that any creature who would imbue supernatural force within something other than his own vessel must have the confidence to believe that those who could gain access to that object would use it for purposes that they would approve of. Vincent never felt any reason to trust anyone and thus it is highly unlikely that he would have taken such a gambit even if he were capable of doing so."

"Then maybe his demon was the responsible party," Zatanna reasoned as she placed her elbows on the luxuriant dining table, her tanned limbs mixing awkwardly with the purely black oak. "I know the enchantments that Immanuel Lugae placed on these demons were pretty strong but maybe the creature within Vincent finally found a way to gain a foothold?"

Naomi resolutely shook her head from one side then back to the other. "Highly unlikely. Let us not dismiss the most likely possibility, ladies and gentlemen. The _Kikuichi-monji _was a blade crafted by nothing less than history's most renowned master of the forge. The sheer bulk of eldritch force required to simply craft the katana would make it a valuable weapon."

"Well, if there is truly foreign energy within the blade and we have no way of being certain about its potency then all we discuss here is speculation," Jason Blood said rather casually. "However, I would be interested in discussing the matter of the demon that inhabited this Vincent Culp. I am afraid that Etrigan only knows of passing tales that were rendered to fables for children while I have even less to draw from."

All eyes turned back to Naomi as the scholar moved the tip of her tongue against her teeth while carefully picking her words. "Mister Blood, I am afraid that Lugae was the expert as it came to the origin of the demons he employed within his experiments. What little that I could pull from my position as project supervisor was mostly limited to the tales that your demonic half was told thousands of years ago." Looking somewhat dismayed to be on shaky ground after so much time in the metaphorical sunlight, the doctor's face grew another shade paler than her already snow-white countenance while tucking an errant strand of black hair back behind her left ear. "The demon implanted within Vincent Culp was a powerful spirit of vengeance appointed to punish creatures and entities that strayed from ushering the souls of the damned into Dabura's nether dimensions."

"Woah, woah, woah," Roy butted in, the red-headed sharpshooter almost looking relieved that he could bring something relevant to the current discussion. "So what you're saying is that this was a demon that was assigned to punish angels?"

"For lack of a better term, yes," Naomi affirmed, her confidence slowly resurfacing in spite of being well aware of what needed to be said next. "Of course, demonic scholars would be far more interested in facts and stories that existed within their primordium of the mortals. Given its unique obligation, the handfuls of records that could be preserved throughout the millennia could offer little elucidation and had not even bothered to name the entity. In fact, I'm afraid that if you're going to want any information about this creature's history then your best possible source is Morrigan Aensland."

Lloyd was already groaning and slumping back in his seat even as Kid Devil leaned forward in his. "Um, is this anybody I should know about," the crimson-skinned Teen Titan asked even while shifting a curious gaze back at his fellow half blood.

"Perhaps the eldest creature on the surface world that still makes her presence known to mortals and immortals alike," Jason Blood provided, the sorcerer's smugness briefly rearing its ugly head in the wake of the dismay of his contemporaries. "I believe that she has a great deal of history with both The Condemner and Mister Thomas."

The realization hit Roy even as Eddie remained blissfully unaware. "Heyyyy, this is the same Morrigan chick that you always get worried about coming across whenever we go to Saizeru, right?" Arsenal asked while popping his beleaguered buddy on the shoulder. "She's the one who wants to jump your bones!"

"Well, I would hope that it would have a little bit more to do with it than that!" Zatanna exclaimed, her pithy candor prompting The Black Dog to wonder which of the potentially guilty parties she was speaking to in such a depreciatory manner. "Roy, Morrigan Aensland is the world's oldest succubus. She's managed to exist for a thousand lifetimes by feeding off the intense emotions of humans and demons alike. And, well, I would imagine that a human empowered by something as ancient and potent as The Condemner might look like a pretty tasty morsel to her." The sorceress noticed that Lloyd's glare now had some hints of good humor and she looked right back at the half-demon with pursed lips. "She also keeps the wells stocked by heading up the most prominent prostitution racket for anybody with a flavor for the supernatural."

"P. . . pro. . . prostitutes?" Eddie Bloomberg all but squeaked, the teen's already scarlet cheeks now turning a faint shade of pink at the prospect. "And. . . and we're going to see them?"

"Indeed we are," Jason Blood replied with a curl of his lip. "Of course, how much you will see shall most likely depend on how much money you're willing to spend."

"Well, praise be to Saint Wayne and a healthy monthly stipend," Roy threw in with a smirk and a hearty clap of his hands. "Oh, wait. Hold on a second. Her operation is all legal, right?"

"About as legal as anything involving the supernatural can be," Zatanna said airily, the witch already aware enough of the exploits of Roy's adoptive father to avoid being shocked by anything Arsenal was claiming to want to do. "Still, I think Naomi and I will stay behind here and keep an eye on things in case something goes wrong." Sporting a winning smile the witch was quick to add, "Besides, this will give you boys a chance to bond."

"I'M NOT BONDING WITH ANYONE!" Eddie shouted back, his tone so loud and defensive that the half-demon may as well have been a skunk raising its tail. "I've got a girlfriend!"

"Then perhaps you should telephone Miss Wilson and inform her of your future whereabouts," Jason Blood suggested while rising to his feet. "I am certain that a girl that willingly calls herself The Ravager would doubtlessly possess the poise and emotional reserve required to understand your frighteningly heavy burden."

Finding no sympathy from Lloyd's pensive frown, Naomi and Zatanna's aggrieved smiles, Roy's toothy grin or Jason's retreating back, Eddie found himself forced to turn to his final option. Thankfully, said "option" was looking right back at him with a patient gaze.

"There is no way that this can be a healthy way for a kid to grow up."

A half-empty glass of carrot juice planted firmly between her chubby hands, Lian merely shrugged her shoulders before leaping from her chair and dashing back into the innards of the manor.

* * *

_San Francisco – Titans Tower – 6:02 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

The image in front of Kara presented a familiar figure not just in who it approximately represented but in how it so accurately symbolized two of the planet's most pivotal ideological figures over the past quarter of a century. She could easily identify the physical attributes that easily confirmed that the young man had inherited a great deal from Kal-El. There were the blue eyes that were several shades darker than the nearly translucent tint of sapphire pools that had nearly become a trademark of The House of El, the bulky but still efficient figure of the six-foot-two, 220-pound teenager whose impressive frame still somehow managed to look starved and hungry for even denser masses of muscle and sinew, and the thick, black hair cut short in a manner that allowed it to trickle down softly against the bridge of his forehead and the tip of his neck. To find the other half of the equation was a wee bit trickier but Kara managed to discern the rounded forehead and long fingers that seemed to be designed for stretching forward and snatching everything the world had to offer. There was also a hungry glow tucked away at the corner of the man's eyes, a flicker that presented the possibility of greed and hatred and things that didn't even seem to be part of the noble Last Son of Krypton.

"I know you met him on a handful of occasions but let me take some time to tell you a little bit about Connor Kent," Victor Stone began again, his pronounced chin flexing and tilting upward as he radiated the importance of his words. "This kid first started to make waves after that knockdown, drag out brawl with Doomsday that put your cousin into a severe, months long coma. Of course, at the time everybody thought that Superman was dead and so S.T.A.R. Labs figured that it was the best time to unveil what they had been working on: a teenaged clone of Superman. He couldn't match the feats or capture the hearts and minds of the public like who he was made out of but Connor learned how to play his part. He became Superboy."

Cyborg wordlessly swapped the images on the nearby screen to photographs of newspaper clippings that briefly depicted some of the more noteworthy highlights of Superboy's career. "He spent some time on his own but eventually he found some other folks in capes and tights that he could get along with and that's how Young Justice came into being. Then when all that got blown to bits a couple years later he joined up with the Titans along with Cassandra Sandsmark and Tim Drake and the three of them went a long way towards proving that they could handle the responsibilities that came along with their power."

Kara blinked and the next image was on the screen. It was a press photograph of the original roster that Cyborg had brought together at a time when teenaged vigilantes were on the verge of becoming an endangered species. The half-Praxian couldn't help but smile as she was offered a cheerful glimpse of people she had come to know like Cassandra, Tim, and Victor before her gaze fell on Connor and another young gentleman whose presence prompted her to let out a pained sigh. She took a moment to look back at The Flash and saw what the speedster probably hoped would look like an expressionless stare but she could make out the creases over by the outer edges of his eyes where he couldn't hide his regret. She knew her friend was trying to avoid the jubilant expression on Bart Allen's face and how the golden lightning that wreathed around his yellow and red uniform stood dull and still in a manner that the former Kid Flash had rarely ever achieved while he was still among the living.

"Well, it turns out that somebody else had their own agenda when it came to what my team was meant to represent," Cyborg continued on with a scowl as he shifted the images once again. "I would still love to know how he managed to keep it all under wraps but the man who was truly at the control of Connor Kent's creation was Lex Luthor. The psycho even went so far as to include his own genes to make sure that Superboy was just as much a progeny of him as he was Superman's. Not only that but Lex eventually got together with Brainiac and used Connor as a sleeper agent in their attempt to wipe out two generations of superheroes in one fell swoop. Connor would eventually manage to break free of Lex's control but some of us found it damn hard to trust him again."

"Until the battle at Metropolis with Alexander Luthor's forces," Kara said dully, the warrior not wanting Victor to have to recount more painful memories than he had to. "When Connor was killed by Doomsday."

There was a flicker of relief on Cyborg's face as he turned to Kara and nodded. "And I'm guessing that Luthor was mightily angered by the fact that he had no way of stopping his own creation from being destroyed. Still, at least he could find somewhere to place the blame. Now I don't know if Lex harbored any kind of affection for Superboy but I know he's the kind of man who doesn't like failing. He couldn't put Superboy under his thumb and I'm guessing that he's all too keen on punishing us for twisting one of his pet projects into something he didn't want it to be."

Kara let out a huff and slumped her shoulders in a manner that coerced a wisp of blonde hair to fall just above her left eye. "Well, at least Brainiac isn't a problem anymore. I made certain of that."

"Yeah, well, the fact that Brainiac isn't around anymore might end up doing us more harm than good as it comes to what we're dealing with right now," Cyborg theorized as he shut down the visual projector with a wave of his fingers. "Say what you want about Vril Dox but at least he was somebody that Lex ended up having to look out for whenever he wanted to make a grand, sweeping alteration of the world. He knew that Brainiac had the brains and the resources to go toe-to-toe with him at any time. On top of that if the two of them ever did throw down and the scales weren't tipping in his favor than Luthor also knew that the only people that could help him regain the balance would be the same heroes that were getting in his way in the first place. Now he doesn't have to worry about Brainiac getting in the way of what he wants to do. He's going to be that much more eager to stoop to new depths when it comes to reshaping the world in his image."

Kara, faced with the rotten side of one of her own noble deeds, stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, if what we're looking for is people who could match wits with Lex Luthor then there's a detective in Gotham that I'd like you to meet. He's also on a bit of a winning streak when it comes to outsmarting ousted presidents."

"Bruce and Lex may be close to even money when it comes to smarts but Vic wasn't talking equals. He was talking about Brainiac being the bigger threat," The Flash piped in from his corner of the room. "Now Brainiac is gone and Bruce has already said that he's not going to support Luthor in what he wants to do so now Lex is thinking that it's all up to him." Having drawn the attention of his compatriots, the scarlet-garbed speedster suddenly hedged and shifted his shoulders. "Still we're just working on a bunch of guesses here. Just what is it that you want us to help you do?"

Cyborg smiled once again, the leader of The Teen Titans clearly keen on returning to the point. "Megadyne Industries, a former subsidiary of LexCorp, is planning on holding a press conference tomorrow morning in the very heart of downtown San Francisco. Rumors are still spinning around as to what the announcement is supposed to entail but Batman and I agree that Luthor is going to try and horn in on the event one way or another."

Kara glowered at the possibility of even more innocents being put into harm's way. Granted, the aim of serving and protecting was certainly a ways away from the kinds of objectives that Batman usually threw their way but there was still a portion of her that relished the possibility of protecting the prey rather than serving as a greater predator. "Okay. That's tomorrow," she then plainly remarked. "The Flash and I could have made the trip across the country in a matter of minutes and we could have held the briefing from Gotham. Why are we here now?"

"Woah, woah. Slow down there, boss lady," Wally cautioned, his phenomenal dexterity allowing him to reach his younger colleague in an instant. His right hand was hovering over Kara's shoulder but a look from the half-Kryptonian that combined annoyance with confusion was enough to deter him from making any actual contact. "Sorry, Vic. It's not that we think that what's going on here isn't important. . ."

Cyborg calmly waved away whatever insults that could be taken from the exchange. "Don't worry none, Flash. I was in the same shoes as her a couple years back. Hell, sometimes I still strap them on when my new ones don't fit." Victor let out a laugh that was soon joined by Wally's own chuckling and the gentlemen both watched as Kara's temperament quickly shifted from irritation to the kind of embarrassed amusement that only comes when somebody realizes that they're trying to make something out of nothing. With the room back on an even emotional keel, Victor then lifted the veil. "Actually I was wondering if you, Ollie, and Wally would be interested in spending the night here at the tower. Maybe get to know some of the kids that are looking up to ya?"

Kara thought it best to not pay any attention to the pleased grin that was doubtlessly on Wally's face. After all, it probably wasn't proper to face such geniality while she was still blanching at the possibilities of what had been thrust upon her.

* * *

_Oa – Green Lantern Corps Training Facility_

The two familiar figures that strolled through the expansive grounds had drawn more than their fair share of attention and onlookers as they meandered around the various exercise zones and sparring arenas where thousands upon thousands of intergalactic peacekeepers had come to hone their craft at one time or another. As one might imagine, this place had a wealthy bulk of history and stories that arose from the labor and toil and thus perhaps it was only understandable that two figures that had been able to draw crowds of millions of admirers would only receive a fraction of such attraction from those that surrounded them in the here and now. Of course, there always tended to be an exception to the rule and the two travelers had come upon it as they made their way towards a gaggle of Green Lanterns whose battlefield expertise ranged from simple trainees to hardened field veterans all centered around a single speaker. This orator was predictably lively and loud with her delivery, the more intriguing aspects of her tale often punctuated with physical blocking that often times mirrored the activities that brought the stories to life.

"So Desaad's big critter has us cornered on one side of the laboratory and, of course, by this time Kylie has gotten all whiny and dramatic. 'Oh, no! I'm bleeding! This totally clashes with my battle armor!'" The vigorous entertainer dramatically flung the back of her right hand against her forehead in a melodramatic manner that summoned another gale of laughter from the surrounding throng. "So I'm just tired of hearing everybody talking so I push Rayner out of the laboratory, lock myself inside, and go toe-to-toe with this 125 ton _beast_! I mean, we're talking about something with teeth that was bigger than I am!"

The calmer of the two traveling onlookers curled up his lips. "I trust that your fellow Earthling is being rather gratuitous as it comes to the details of retrieving The Anti-Life Equation from Apokolips?"

His companion twisted his own lips in response. "Well, maybe her interpretation of Kyle is a little theatrical," the veteran Green Lantern allowed. "Still, I've found that one of Stephanie's more irritating qualities is to pull off something that makes for a ridiculous story."

"Yes, I've often thought so myself," the quieter of the two agreed before folding his hands against his miniscule hips as Stephanie continued on.

"So I fire a spiral beam right through his skull and Desaad just outright _WAILS _that I killed his little baby hell beast," Stephanie crowed while joining her right ring and middle finger in the same matter that she often employed before launching one of those aforementioned spiraling beams of eldritch energy. "Then I threaten to pants him and he runs off leaving me alone. Now by then the mission is already pretty much over but I don't want to let a perfectly good kill go to waste! And, well, that's why Donna has a Hidon beast stuffed and mounted to her home on New Kronus."

The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns extended her arms wide to soak in the laughter and applause before twisting her body into a pirouette and a bow. After completing her contortions she found that a noticeable fraction of her attention was being taken away from her. Perturbed by that happenstance, the Gotham-based Robin looked up and grinned as Ganthet and Hal Jordan made their way through the surprised crowd.

"Is it time for my dramatic departure, Brigadier General Blueberry?

Ganthet found himself frowning in the wake of Stephanie's unique challenge of his authority. "Walk with us, Lieutenant Brown," the Guardian said politely, his polite words coupling with a calm glare that easily allowed him to save face in front of the Green Lanterns that Stephanie had briefly captured under her spell. Being a godlike immortal now spending his 21st millennium in a state of sentience, the white-haired Guardian was able to summon enough patience to allow for the crowd to disperse and for Stephanie to begin walking by his side. "I reviewed the results of your report and would like to commend you for establishing a grander connection with your Oan ring. That being said, I must confess that I am somewhat concerned with sending you out on another mission after your ordeal with Leokar Kurkosaw."

Stephanie frowned at that. She already had several sarcastic comments forming a queue at the tip of her tongue before a more reserved portion of her brain helped her recall the moments of sympathy and support that Ganthet had shown during her ascendancy into The Green Lantern Corps and that was enough to beat back her rebellious inclinations. "Well, thank you for both the compliments and the time and resources put into researching my case, Ganthet. Still, there's no use in somebody as special as I apparently am to sit on the sidelines when there are things to do."

The Oan Guardian allowed a slight smile in the wake of the double-sided endorsement. "Very well. You may be interested in knowing that Kurkosaw has once again slipped out of the public limelight but his capture and retrieval remains to be a high priority. However, as for your current matters, our sources indicate that the Earthling known to you as Alexander Luthor apparently succeeded in contacting two other recently cultivated power players after his woeful negotiations with Kurkosaw."

"Oh, and I'm sure that they were just misunderstood angels who only want what's best for everybody!" Stephanie offered brightly, her statement quickly followed with an overtly toothy smile that looked to be stern enough to crack her jawbone.

"Yeah, these bastards are real winners," Jordan replied, the Green Lantern easily sliding into his duty. "The less likely subject is a mass murderer named Larfleeze, a former child slave who was apparently so hungry for power that he eliminated every sentient life on his home world so that he would be the lone possessor of some kind of magical reservoir that appears to be similar to our own Green Lantern battery."

"Jeez," Stephanie noted while running her right hand through her hair. "Wait. This is the first time I've heard about this guy. How come? I mean, you'd think that a guy that committed a planet-wide genocide wouldn't have to wait too long in line to get near the top of the intergalactic wanted list."

"The incident happened only recently," Ganthet replied, the immortal catching Hal's pointed stare only a moment after Stephanie had spotted it. "For all his avarice, Larfleeze was quite efficient in fulfilling his purposes upon receiving the resources he required to accomplish them. Moreover the source of his supernatural energy supply was surfaced only recently and The Guardians did not have the authority to investigate the matter outside of observations from afar."

"Well, I'm sure that's a great comfort to anybody who had friends on Larfleeze's new planet," Robin ruefully noted, her seemingly ingrained sarcasm winning the point over her patience. "Okay. And you said that he was the second most likely suspect so who's at the top of our list?"

Hal's eyes briefly met Ganthet's as the two of them seemed to reach a silent accord. "The prime suspect is a creature named Atrocitus," the veteran Green Lantern began, the brown-haired former stunt pilot paying notice that Stephanie did recognize that name. "Much like Larfleeze, he gained a great deal of power in a short while and has been using that to establish an assemblage of planets under a self-proclaimed order of rage."

Robin's first reaction to the distressing development was a thoughtful frown. "Order of Rage? Sounds like a Children of Bodom cover band. So I imagine that Atrocitus managed to rack up an impressive body count of his own?"

"Not anything like the figures tallied up by Sinestro or Larfleeze," Jordan admitted, his voice remaining impressively neutral as the trio strolled past the training perimeter into an expansive promenade on the western edge of the facility. "Still, the fact remains that Atrocitus has been very vocal about his desires to expand both his sphere of influence and his personal philosophies. It isn't until only recently that his group would even accept our invitations for a mutual conference."

"Which we're planning on going to?" Robin asked, her question earning nods from both Ganthet and Jordan. Her impatience was already beginning to bubble over and the forceful energy that seemed to hum through her didn't fit as well on the peaceful walkways than on the battlefields they had left behind. She briefly reminded herself of Batman's training, his insistence to remain calm and collected and therefore able to take in all the information that people were willing to allow.

Then again, he also taught her to ask the right questions once she knew what those questions were.

"So would you mind telling me what we're really being sent to do?"

The blunt inquiry prompted Hal to suck in a breath and lightly clench his teeth while Ganthet maintained the same patience that Stephanie had been kind enough to provide for him only minutes before. "Lieutenant Brown, please recognize that you are, first and foremost, a member of The Green Lantern Corps. The Guardians acknowledge that you are proud of your self-appointed duties upon your home world and have granted you a lenient amount of duties to your destined station but we will not allow that clemency as it concerns how you will be expected to conduct yourself when you choose to be called upon."

"Oh, so I'm not 'conducting myself properly' because I asked a question?" Stephanie snapped back, her sharp suspicions proving caustic enough to convince Hal into wondering if he should break up the scene before he wisely chose to hang back and watch matters unfold. "And don't even try to give me grief about my attitude, Ganthet, because there's somebody back on Earth that's a helluva lot better than you are at the guilt game and he's still trying to get the job done."

The flash of annoyance that briefly ticked through Ganthet's black eyes paled in comparison to the overt righteousness that rumbled through the rebellious Green Lantern. The Guardian's power would have allowed him to strip the Earthling of her powers with only a series of somewhat complicated enchantments but the outrage that came with such a temptation ultimately gave in to a sorrowful frown. "Exercise caution within these matters, Earthlings. Keep faith in the strength of your will."

The nebulous retort meandered Stephanie into a moment of silence that lasted long enough for Ganthet to turn his back to her before blinking away from sight. Then, as she was wont to do in situations where she didn't have the answers she liked, Robin cinched up her facial muscles while her annoyed exuberance sought at the nearest convenient target. "Oh, yeah, there's nothing suspicious going on here!" she barked out as Hal looked upon her with an impressive degree of reverent calm. "Damn it, we might as well just go ahead and ask how high we should jump when they tell us to hop!"

Hal let out a weighty sigh. "Just leave Ganthet alone for a little bit, Stephanie," the veteran Green Lantern advised, his voice carrying a tired kind of conviction that had taken years for him to cultivate. "There's a whole lot of things swirling around the pot right now and it's going to take some time for even them to find the answers."

"Well, then maybe they shouldn't speak of themselves so highly if they don't want to deal with the pressure that comes with it!" Robin spat back. "For God's sake, they're supposed to be the entity that directs the largest police force in the cosmos yet Vincent and Sinestro were able to form their own army of Yellow Lanterns right underneath their noses! And Leokar Kurkosaw was drawing his power from a black ring, Hal! That just can't be some kind of wild coincidence that the almighty Guardians couldn't have possibly expected!"

"Of course not," Hal replied, his tone just as tranquil as Stephanie's was filled with agitation. "Still you knew well before you got to Solur that you were probably walking into a trap. That was something you accepted, that the Lanterns alongside you accepted, because we're the frontline soldiers in a battle that is always going to be changing. We may have the right to question what we're doing but we ultimately have to recognize that we need to get the job done so somebody else doesn't have to suffer because of what we didn't do."

Robin growled in the face of the rationalization, the fair-haired Gothamite slightly slumping her shoulders in the same gesture of mock surrender that she would present to Batman when she sensed that she had snagged on to a nerve of his that she wished to unravel. Unfortunately for her, Hal Jordan was gifted with more significant social graces than Gotham's gloomiest investigator and countered her with the cocky smile of a pilot that had zeroed in on an opponent's six.

"Well, do you at least trust me, Lieutenant Brown?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes until her pale blue irises seemed to run the risk of twisting back into her skull. "Yeeeeeees," she let out with a huff, the young Green Lantern momentarily defeated. "Stupid Paul Newman lookalike with the lethal weapon grin. Ruggurugruggrug."

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Hal asked with upturned eyebrows.

Stephanie set her Robinglare to maximum snark. "I was saying that you still probably can't take a punch."

"Well, we all have stuff to work on," Jordan countered, the whimsy within prompting both Green Lanterns to let out some deeply necessary laughter.

* * *

_8:57 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Noah Kuttler took a brief glance at the dwindling supply of ungraded term papers sitting on the desk at his right hand side while sipping his precisely prepared cup of Earl Grey (medium warm, a teaspoon of cane sugar and just a sliver of honey). The infusion of carbohydrates from the consumption of the common herbal remedy proved quite beneficial against the threatening pulses of a potential headache that had cropped up along the tops of his temples and he let out a relieved sigh as the liquid rolled downed his throat. His cameras and communication equipment were still all operating soundly as they monitored the three separate teams of Misfits that were carrying out their respective tasks and the relative calm had given him plenty of opportunities to focus on the book reports for Helena's fourth-grade English class. He believed that he carried his tasks out soundly, his red pen quick to present errors that would not be expected of a preadolescent reader and writer while his sharp eyes observed Batman, Huntress and Nightwing searching over another abandoned Intergang facility. Next he regarded The Black Dog's team entering The Rusty Sambo in order to secure both information and lodgings for the night and grew even more convinced that he had a quiet evening to look forward to.

In fact, the only sign that anything was amiss arose from his third monitoring assignment and it was that dilemma that delivered whatever consternation there was to be had during this otherwise calm evening.

"It is not a matter of hesitation as it comes to discussing the topic. The quandary lies in the simple matter that I have little personal experience as it comes to Lex Luthor. After all, the version of The Secret Society that I was assigned to infiltrate did not have the real Luthor at the head of command. Furthermore the genuine Lex wouldn't have had anything to do with an information broker that would only serve to infringe upon his sphere of influence."

The beleaguered sigh that rose from the other end of the comm. link was entirely expected and Noah took the brief moment to snap up another juvenile commentary on _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. "I know, I know. And, I mean, it's not like that I don't know why he's so interested in me. I have a connection to the person he hates the most and he thinks that he can exploit that. I guess I've just gotten more than a little tired of people coming after me because of who I'm related to."

"Well, such anticipations are to be expected, Kara," Noah considered, his thin lips tilting into a frown as he pointed out to young Colin Randolph that there were only two e's in receive. "Luthor has made no reservations as it comes to his desire to acquire a greater vantage point to mount his seemingly endless campaign against your cousin. His apparent fascination in gathering radioactive extraterrestrial rocks provided enough proof of that. There is also the possibility that Lex had somehow gained access to Brainiac's database and the information the Coulan scientist had gathered about you before his timely demise. Perhaps, with that information at hand, he believes that he could find something to subvert and twist you under his sway much as he had in his early work with the cloned Superman."

"Well, I've worked too hard to earn my freedom and eliminate the triggers installed by my father. I'm not about to let Luthor get his claws into me."

"I would have expected no less," The Calculator noted as the hacker and ad hoc counselor judged that Mister Randolph's sound concluding statement as it came to what he thought of Mark Twain's classic tale earned the boy a B-plus. "Still I feel that I must apologize for not unearthing more salient data as it comes to Luthor's ambitions and the details behind his apparent fascination for all things Kryptonian. After all, I have made it my life's duty to acquire and accumulate information that would better prepare my colleagues and fellow agents for whatever they may encounter in the field."

Noah heard a gloomy sigh from the other end of the comm. link and used the transition towards the inevitable to stretch and snag another paper from the stack. He was nearly prepared to scrutinize Colette Renner's opening statement with the utmost of professionalism when he heard what he had been waiting for.

"Why aren't you reprimanding me?"

The Calculator raised his eyebrows at that, the 41-year-old data gatherer surprised with how the gambit began. "I'm sorry but I'm afraid that I don't understand," he replied while craning his long legs against the other half of the paper-stacked desk. He took it to be a blessing that Kara could not hear his heartbeat from 4,000 miles away and realize that he was lying through his well-maintained teeth.

"Well, just look at this," Kara went on, the request tempting Noah into checking the surveillance feed that showcased the eclectic social gathering taking place in Titans Tower and two rooms away from the isolated half-Kryptonian warrior. "Green Arrow is talking to them. Wally is talking to them. I mean, I know that they both have known the Titans for a lot longer than I have but why can't I be social? I can't think of anything to say!"

Briefly sifting through his options, Noah then simply decided to resort to his firstly gathered instinct. "Well, I for one have rarely seen any problems with choosing to maintain a status of social isolationism. I have found that the vast majority of humanity has rarely ever provided me with anything that I could construe to be useful as it comes to maintaining my continued comfortable state of mind."

"You know that's not what I mean," Kara crossly replied while digging the heel of her left foot against the kitchen floor. "Bruce and Lloyd hate hanging around with most people too but they know how to pull through and take the lead when it really matters. Even you are still helping Mia out with computers and trying to get to know Zatanna's friends! So why can I take on 200-foot Abyssal worms without even blinking an eye but now I'm in a crowded room with a bunch of people that I should get to know and I'm doing everything I can to avoid them."

Noah tilted his eyebrows once again as he put the finishing touches on the smiling face that graced the top of Miss Renner's A-plus worthy performance. "Well, you're currently standing in the Titan Tower kitchen if we're needling over the particulars." Met with a silence whose chill could be felt from across the country, The Calculator snatched his spectacles off the bridge of his nose. "I am sure that Lloyd has already informed you that you are placing far too much pressure on yourself as it comes to examining these potential possibilities for social growth. Your fears of becoming the embittered madwoman you confronted during your foray into the future are certainly valid but such rapid changes in personal philosophy will take time. And, in your defense, this "Afflicted" character does not strike me as the type of woman who would incessantly fret over what others thought of her conduct in a social situation."

Kara mulled that over as Noah happily went to work cleaning a smudge of his left bifocal. "Well, maybe it was these kinds of forced social events that provided the impetus for my future insanity." The chuckling she heard from the other side of the wire ultimately coerced into a clenched smile. "Okay. Okay. I know I'm just making excuses. I'll try harder and thanks for taking the time to talk me through it."

Hanging up the phone a moment after The Calculator said his goodbyes, the golden-haired champion rose to her full height and took a deep, cleansing breath. She gathered the lessons and skills she had been accumulating in the 57 months since her spaceship crashed in the western edge of Gotham Bay and brought them to the forefront of her cerebral cortex. As she strode back into the common area, her steps confident and measured, she was still mapping out her strategy.

_Use your strengths to mark your place within a battlefield. Try to find the situation that you believe that you would feel most comfortable in and negotiate with those already there to determine what conduct the moment calls for. What rules that need to be followed._

Scanning the 35 by 30 foot room with its high ceilings, cushy couches and ottomans, and a variety of long tables sparsely populated with a variety of snacks, Kara first brought her attention to the 80-inch, high-definition television in the center of the room. Wally was seated at the couch across from the mammoth audiovisual device along with Beast Boy and Cyborg while Rose Wilson leaned against the right arm of the leather settee.

_Hey! They're playing video games! We do that at the manor all the time. Let's just go over there and talk about what they're playing. That shouldn't be too hard. . ._

"AWWWWWW YEAH!" Garfield Logan roared as he leapt triumphantly off the couch as The Flash cursed softly and a digital equivalent of Rashard Mendenhall celebrated an especially long touchdown run. "TOUCHDOWN, STEELERS!" Apparently not feeling an ounce of the hesitance that Kara had been warring over, the green-furred Teen Titan known more commonly as Beast Boy sauntered over to the distracted speedster. Coming within a foot or so of The Fastest Man Alive, the animorph quickly broke into an awkward looking dance that didn't appear to have a lot of form or structure and centered a great deal around pelvic thrusting. "Yeah. You know whut it iz. Black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow!"

Kara wisely steered her attentions away as Rose and Victor began to sing along with their celebrating colleague while The Flash threw his arms out to keep Beast Boy from trying to teabag him. Seeking something a bit more predictable, she felt herself relaxing at the sight of Green Arrow having a quiet chat with Cassandra, Mia Dearden and Tim Drake about martial arts. Although she was never one to be fully comfortable with such shop talk before launching off into the unknown Kara felt her confidence building as she caught Ollie's gaze and was given a reassuring nod.

"Did you need help?"

The icy voice got Kara right back into "jumping out of her skin" territory. Her Praxian gifts did allow her to sniff out the surrounding magic in an instant and she turned to meet the impassive stare of a woman with shoulder-length hair so richly black that it seemed more like a deep shade of indigo. She was deathly pale and her petite frame would have given the daintiest of ballerinas a run for their money but Kara felt the strength within the girl's eyes and all but felt the determination that had managed to ward off the toxic influence over a father figure that was most likely even more unsavory than her own.

"Oh, hi. You must be Raven." Kara had blurted the realization out and immediately felt foolish for saying it in the first place. Not only had she met the half-demon sorceress on a small handful of occasions but it was also relatively safe to say that Raven would know her own name. And, given that their few meetings involved relatively little interaction (and pretty much all of it being awkward or altogether antisocial), it wasn't as if she needed to pour more fuel on the quiet fire. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so startled."

"That's okay," Raven softly replied. There was a brief moment as a flicker ran through her violet eyes as if even she was surprised to find that there was nothing wrong. "I remember you. You accompanied Lloyd and Zatanna several months ago when they traveled to the nether dimensions to prevent my father from breaking into the surface world. I. . . wanted to thank you for your help but. . ."

Kara suddenly found a bolt of courage as Raven took her turn at feeling awkward. She knew from Mister Wayne's reports that Raven had spent her entire adulthood holding off the dark influences of her father Trigon, a greater demon whose existence on the surface world had been dominated with an unending feast upon the darkest of human emotions. The unending fight forced Raven to suppress her emotions and keep her demonic nature in check lest she give any opportunity for her father to exert his sinister influence through her. "No. No, it's all right. I know the whole astral plane can be really confusing when there's numerous source points. And I was working in Wayne Manor and Lloyd and Zatanna were in that hell dimension and you were in San Francisco. . ."

"Yes, yes. . ." Raven trailed off before catching Kara's open expression and gathering her own nerve. "You're in a relationship with the human occupied by The Condemner. He has always been very kind to me when he travels to San Francisco. You are very fortunate to have him."

The smile that Kara provided in response to the blunt admittance somehow managed to combine hopefulness with shyness. "Oh, well, thank you very much. And. . . and Garfield is a really nice guy."

The witch couldn't help but allow her seemingly eternal skepticism to grab the reins as she raised her eyebrows. Kara followed the gesture immediately and joined Raven in looking over as Beast Boy was engaged in an animated argument with Cyborg as The Flash and Ravager cackled like asylum inmates. "That is a matter that's always up for debate," Raven said flatly, her tone drawing a slight smile from her audience. "This may sound. . . weird. . . but would you be interested in joining me for my daily meditation?" It appeared that the effort required in the question seemed to drain the half-demon and she briefly looked away. "It's. . . it's not silent or anything. Just a sharing of thoughts. . . If you're not interested. . ."

"No, no! That'd be great!" Kara exclaimed, the quick agreement drawing first shock then relief from both parties. Then, drawing up another round of worry she added, "But what about the other Titans? I mean, you guys must be busy and not have a whole lot of spare time to just relax. Wouldn't you like to spend some time with them?"

Raven briefly fixed Kara's well-meaning recommendation with another pointed stare. Trying her best not to radiate any annoyance from her retort, the witch only ticked her head to one side and again provided a silent invitation for Kara to turn around and look at the scenes in the common room. They then silently looked on as Garfield and Rose were participating in a belching contest while a friendly sparring session had broken out between Mia and Tim as Ollie and Cassandra cheered on their respective persons of interest.

The half-demon's tone was forcibly dull and emotionless.

"I don't like noise."

* * *

_Day 2 of Investigations - 9:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Just as those that had watched and participated in the digital football games at Titans Tower, the solitary viewer seated deeply within his lounging chair could make out every crease and crevice on the judge's face. The calm, knowing silence broadcasted by the women's furrowed countenance was playing its part of an old but efficient snare and the silent observer drew a dark smile from the anticipation of what was to come. He stretched his squat arm so that the beefy fingertips of his right hand could grasp the decanter that lay on the nearby end table before quickly settling back in while drawing a swig of the modestly aged Cognac. The marbled liquor left a burning sensation in his throat that lingered for far longer than it should have, a clear sign that he was nearing a mild case of dehydration but the quiet spectator simply could not work up the resolve to rise up to his feet.

His source for entertainment finally chose to speak. "No, you listen to me, young man! What you should have done was recognize your responsibilities and carry them out. If you did that then you wouldn't have had to come here asking for help from somebody who is no longer legally obligated to provide for you! You went into this relationship looking for an easy way out and now you're calling foul because she wants her share of the pie."

"Hmm. The reveal of the gentleman's selfishness could not have been delivered with greater efficiency," the onlooker grumbled while heaving another drag from his carafe. In a gesture that he would have normally considered to be an unforgiveable act of vulgarity, he employed his spare hand to wipe away the thin sliver of spittle and spirits that remained on his lips rather than reach for the handkerchief that hung loosely on the left side of his seat. It was enough to give the portly gentleman pause and consider his stock in life before a buzzing sound rose from an intercom seated at his dusty yet luxuriant black-oak office desk. The device let out a second harsh drone as the purveyor of fine scotch stumbled to his pudgy feet, the sound of a sympathetic caw ruffling through his pointed ears as he shuffled to the insistent machine.

"Hang it all. Right at the precise moment when Judge Judy was preparing to rain down her vengeance. . ." The avian aficionado roughly placed his bottle aside and pressed the audio feed button on the communication device. "Please observe the sign so prominently posted at the front. We are closed."

His definitive rejoinder was met only by another buzz from the speaker and that was enough to spark the gentleman's ire into action. Letting out a whispered but pedantic insult while waddling his way towards the hallway that ran along his chambers, he took a moment to reach into a nearby umbrella stand and pull free a ragged black parasol with a thin barrel where the metal point should have been. A ragged cough tore free from his tired lungs as he shuffled down the unkempt foyer, the air dry, grimy, and the floors still riddled in wrecked plaster, pottery, and roofing material. The unwanted phlegm was a bad enough manner to deal with but soon the former social butterfly was assaulted with the memories of moments that he had once dreamed to be a part of. It was his phone buzzing with the summons of talent agents and A-list celebrities clamoring to perform at his behest, the ghostly laughter of starlets and perky waitresses reveling in the limelight and luxury that he had provided.

The matter only became more beleaguering as he made his way to the expansive dance floor, the once opulent theater of merriment rendered grey from the absent lighting and the gaping apertures in the surrounding walls that allowed the low lights of Gotham's evening to trickle through the once impenetrable defenses. He heard the clinking of glasses and the richly deserved applause and it all served to spurn the sadness that gave way to a dilapidated kind of ire as he approached the comm. link that bordered the bar.

"Perhaps you hail from beyond our borders and have yet to acquire the lingual aptitudes that my previous response conveyed," the portly chap offered with a sneer. "Se habla closed!"

A rustle of boot-clad feet against the scarred carpet alerted the involuntary host that his company had breached his meager defenses. Following the noise and finding its source he soon determined that the alert was voluntarily offered since there was little chance that the alluring woman walking across the dance floor would have been so brazen if she wished to remain hidden.

"Ah, Lady Canary, so nice to see you." Oswald Cobblepot offered with a mirthless smile. "The bar is closed but thank you very much for stopping by."

Dinah Laurel Lance, her hands still pressed against her hips, became acutely aware that she had her work cut out for her.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

You know, the last couple months have really been a time for me to sit back and ponder over my own definition of stability. It's one thing to have a consistent writing schedule but it's a whole other thing to find yourself in a life that is more and more centered around making certain something doesn't go profoundly wrong rather than spending your time looking to do something better. It's been three years since I graduated from college and over six years since I started writing this project and a lot of things keep changing. I've stopped being a dreamer searching for something greater and become a traveler slogging down the road that life has offered me. There's certainly a variety of paths that are still available to me and there a lot of things that are on the table that I never thought I'd really have: a wife and a family and being an occasional social follower rather than a continuous leader being the two most prominent in mind.

So why did I drag you all through this little monologue? Well, I take a look at the comic book industry on the whole every now and again and I wonder why so many of the prominent creators are so intent on precipitating change. Universes are being rebooted, storylines are scrapped, and characters that don't immediately catch fire with a dominant section of the industry's dwindling audience are cut away with vicious heartlessness. Add on to that with the fact that the 100th issue of _The Walking Dead_, a series from an independent company that has maintained the same creative team nearly since its inception, is on the fast track to being the highest selling comic in nearly two decades and it makes you wonder why the dreamers can't stick with the same road for a little while.

Good things come to those who wait, lads and lasses.

* * *

_Issue #146 Preview_

So a blonde-haired songbird walks into a bar, two Green Lanterns are on their way to have some peaceful chats with two of the galaxy's most prominent criminals and Lloyd is taking his team to meet the world's most famous pimp. It's either the start of a really awkward joke or the tale of what's to come in the next installment of _The Misfits_: No Storm before The Calm. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	146. No Calm Before the Storm

Issue #146

No Calm before the Storm

_The Iceberg Lounge – 9:27 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

The Black Canary may have been entirely sure of what she was going to find upon arriving at the once-thriving nightspot but the reality she came across now turned out to be so depressing that she had been loathe to put it on the list. It wasn't as if she was averse to contemplating the worst case scenario. In the nearly two decades she had spent fighting crime in her own manner, a career that began as a Gotham-based vigilante before rising through the ranks of The Justice Society of America and The Birds of Prey before finally becoming an integral member of The JLA, the golden-haired martial artist had the privilege of seeing some of the best and the worst the world had to offer but there were few sights that saddened her more than this. And, yes, it was quite true that she still thought Oswald Cobblepot to be a disgusting little lecher and she would have rather walked barefoot through miles of broken glass before wearing one of those ridiculous outfits that The Penguin coerced his former barmaids into but she had always admired the redeemed criminal for his unflinching sense of pride. To see the man brought to such a state only served to remind Dinah Lance of her own low points and the false smiles she put on for convenience's sake and it burned at her gut as she briefly crossed her forearms across her stomach.

"It's been a while, Penguin."

The only sign that Cobblepot had heard her was a quiet grumble before he turned to her and fired off a gloomy stare. There was no sparkle in the pudgy man's eyes and there was no sign that a lascivious and completely inappropriate comment was forthcoming and that perturbed Dinah all the more.

"Gotta say that I've seen you looking better," The Black Canary ventured, the usually charming talker immediately regretting her choice of words as she watched The Penguin's look somehow grow sourer. "I. . . I'm sorry that I didn't come to the club sooner. I really like how you expanded the. . . lounge."

"Oh, do you like it?" Cobblepot snapped back, the tired man seemingly latching onto the poorly delivered sympathy like a hungry wolf snapping into the neck of a dying rabbit. "I'm going for a 'Dresden: After the Bombing' motif."

Dinah clenched her teeth. "Geez. I'm sorry, Penguin," she replied, the crime fighter employing Oswald Cobblepot's criminal nom de guerre in an attempt to spur a spark of his usually prodigious self-image. "It's just. . . well, why is it still like this?"

The Penguin let out a long sigh as he finally waddled his way to the dusty bar and placed down his bottle of cognac. "Miss Lance, I have come to the conclusion that the effort to restore my fine establishment from the destructive ruins it has become would be akin to watching _Sophie's Choice." _Cobblepot briefly stooped down to fetch a slightly chipped glass from underneath the bar and slid it onto the coarse wood. "Meryl Streep's performance may be utterly mesmerizing but over time the dismal material inevitably draws nothing but sorrowful inevitability."

_Well, at least he's gotten his flair for the dramatic back_, Dinah relented while resisting the urge to let out a sigh of her own. "Come on, Cobblepot. This isn't like you," she said with determination. "Oracle showed me your financial ledgers and you were making money hand over foot before Intergang busted in! And it was all legitimate! Nobody can take that away from you! Don't let them beat you down when you're so close to making something great of yourself."

That brought a brief flicker of life into Cobblepot's eyes but not even a second passed before it was snuffed out by the surrounding maudlin. "For now I will avoid discussing your confession of moral impropriety," he allowed while placing his bottle back on the back wall while leaving his half-full glass behind. "This is no longer a matter of rising above the obstructions of my cursed life, Miss Lance. This is acceptance." The Penguin took a long sip from his cup and it seemed as if the amber liquid was reluctant in sliding away from the glass and into his open throat. Letting out another breath as his esophagus found itself encumbered, he rubbed the tip of his right thumb against the bridge of his elongated nose. "My most recent successes have only provided a bitterer remainder of the inevitable violence that shall surround my life until my dying days."

Dinah couldn't help but furrow her brow. "You know, you could raise quite a few eyebrows with talk like that."

Cobblepot fired back with a doleful gaze before taking another sip that allowed him to empty the glass goblet. "Rest assured that I have no intentions of resorting to the duplicating follies of my iniquitous past. Know that I do not lament over the follies of my past. I will calmly draw my confort from my acquired material means to finance a quiet existence whose limits would stretch far past my body's ability to endure."

Dinah knew that the skill to find the right thing to say during most opportunities was a valuable trait indeed. However, she thought at the time that the capacity for silence to be a more presentable trait and she exercised it on her way towards the bar. Her lithe frame and smooth, gliding steps allowed her to easily swerve around Cobblepot's motionless bulk and soon she was stretching to reach for one of the few unbroken carafes that remained on the shelves. She unscrewed the lid with a practiced ease and prepared a drink for herself before replenishing The Penguin's empty glass. Catching and holding onto the curious glare of her drinking partner, she downed the shot of whiskey and immediately found that she had to fight the urge to gag at the foul yet expensive libation.

"If I may inquire, charming songbird," The Penguin began with a wisp of a chuckle in his voice. "Just how have you managed to recover so vibrantly from your numerous past traumas?"

Knowing that the jig was up when it came to her pretending to be a hard drinker with a sympathetic ear, Dinah swallowed thickly before smoothing her hair back. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her speech sounding somewhat muffled given that she felt like she was trying to recover feeling in her tongue.

Cobblepot leaned against the counter with his left arm. "Well, it is not as if the majority of the details as it comes to your private life are too deeply concealed. The numerous traumatic injuries you have suffered would merely be the start of it all. On top of that there are the numerous punishments you forced to endure during your occasional relationships with that idiotic fop with the Robin Hood complex. You were made barren through a violent sexual assault and even endured a trip through a Lazarus Pit and yet you have maintained your charming social gifts. You have rebuilt your life time and time again to the point where the entire story seems preposterously unbelievable."

Never one to think too highly of her past, Dinah suddenly found herself rather bashful before an inkling of legitimate anger took hold. "God, it's all out there on the table, isn't it?" she mumbled, the question aimed more at herself than at the knowing source of her ruminations. Then, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs she added. "I don't know, Pengy. I just. . . I suppose I just keep going. I mean, I know I can't guarantee that whatever's around the corner is going to be anything better than what I left behind but there's always the possibility, right? I mean, this could all just be some kind of lunatic optimism."

Cobblepot took his turn at pondering over it all until his wandering eyes inevitably made their way to Dinah's startlingly familiar stocking-clad legs. "Well, I would suppose that one would have to be quite comfortable with lunacy to ever accept attempting to find professional legitimacy while wearing such ridiculous attire." He relished the brief moment it took before the sharp, fair-haired crime fighter managed to piece the clues of his wordy rejoinder and chuckled as Dinah clucked her tongue while giving him a withering but still somehow charming glare.

"We both know that Luthor is going to be coming after us with all he's got, Pengy," Dinah began again, the bitter truth drawing another distempered grumble from Cobblepot. "Hell, he's already gotten his fingerprints all over Bludhaven and Gotham City, _your _city, is right there on the next spot on his list."

"Feh, my city," The Penguin snorted as ire took the place of his former timidity. "I believe your cowled colleague would make it abundantly clear that such a claim is ridiculously foolhardy. And now you expect me to retain whatever little I have left to me while that wretch Luthor is raining his own damnation amongst us all?"

"Why not? What he took is _yours _to get back." Dinah punctuated her insistence by gently wrapping her left hand around one of Cobblepot's pudgy wrists. "I'm not the only one here whose past is an easily opened book. You've spent your whole life wanting to be defined by your charm rather than your looks. You wanted the glitz and the bright lights and all the attention and you had it! You accomplished what you wanted so don't let some high-minded barbarian like Luthor get in the way of your dreams."

Dinah employed the same genial, peaceful candor that had soothed the frayed nerves of everyone from Superman to Ambush Bug. It was the same tone that had tempered Batman's broody glare and the same soft-hearted strength that had inflicted grievous injuries upon Wonder Woman's seemingly unflappable self-authority. And, by all accounts, it seemed to place a similar effect upon Oswald Cobblepot as he briefly gazed downward at his empty glass before his entire body seemed to bubble with confidence. The flaps of his double chin tightened and his nose seemed to stand more prominent against his pudgy face.

And, of course, _that _was the time when Batman emerged from the shadows and turned it all to shit.

* * *

"_Good Lord, she really is like Dory," _Hal Jordan couldn't help but think as he watched his subordinate officer weave and meander through the blackness of space around them. He could tell that there was a bright smile on Stephanie's face just by looking at the corners of her face and he was already finding that the gloom and pessimism that he originally delivered in the face of the good cheer was already washing away in a tide of infectious good spirits. The fact that the younger Green Lantern was able to keep pace with him in spite of all the unnecessary twists and turns could have been considered as a testament to her continued comfort with her Oan power ring. Still, the fact of the matter was that the whole thing ran the risk of being disconcerting and that prompted the former stunt pilot to instantly create an emerald force barrier that forced him and the Gotham-based Robin to a screeching halt.

"Heeeeeeey! What the fuckity fuck?" Stephanie squealed as her momentum led her to crash into Hal's shield with an audible _bong _of two colliding eldritch energy signatures. Then, discovering that she was able to hear the sound of her own words, she naturally turned to the source of the unexpected events. "What's the holdup, Jordan? We've got an appointment with a mass murderer here!"

The veteran Justice Leaguer crossed his slender arms across his chest. "Oh, it's nothing much. Just seems that you're a whole lot cheerier than you were a couple hours ago when you were ready to try and rip of Ganthet's asshole and stuff it down his throat."

"Ooooooh. What a gloriously violent image."

Jordan easily deflected Stephanie's amused comment with his trademark smirk. "I just wanted you to tell me what you're thinking, Lieutenant Brown. Seems like that such a drastic change in a soldier's outlook is something that a superior officer should keep an eye on."

There was a glint of vulnerability in Stephanie's air of confidence before she shut it all down with a shrug of her shoulders. "It's not really anything major. Maybe I'm just more comfortable with being out here and trying to do the impossible instead of just standing around and talking about it."

Hal found himself sympathizing with the prototypical response of an overconfident youngster. After all, when you're guilty of literally attempting to reshape reality into your finest image then you can't come down too hard on someone else's sense of activism. "Well, don't start thinking that you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, Stephanie. You've got some of our finest Lanterns overseeing this operation from afar and ready to hop in at a moment's notice."

Robin somehow managed to deliver a frown while maintaining the impish gleam in her pale, blue eyes. "Well, first off, _we're _the fish that have to hop on the pan to see if the stove is sizzling, Colonel. Secondly, I refuse to believe that our backup really consists of the best and the brightest if it includes Kylie."

"_Hey, I overheard that_!" interrupted a jovial presence through the telepathic network designed by The Guardians to allow members of The Green Lantern Corps to communicate through the silence of space. The interrupter, as one might suspect, was none other than Kyle Rayner, the former last survivor of The Green Lantern Corps and the same noble soldier that Stephanie had endeavored to relentlessly slander during the tail end of her trip to Oa. "Oh, and on a related note, I am _reallllly _enjoying these Salandrian turdocken legs that somebody left in the ship's fridge. God, these things are so tender it feels like the meat is just wanting to fall off the bone."

"_HEY! Those are my turdocken legs_!" Stephanie shouted back at the apparent food pilferer. "_Kylie, I swear to Flonne if you don't put those back right where you found them I will feed you to a pack of baby Koresh demons while you're still alive_."

"_Mmmmmm. It's sooooo good_," the raven-haired illustrator replied, his usually smooth delivery hampered by what one could only guess to be the aforementioned extraterrestrial munchables. "_I mean, I know I really shouldn't be doing this but I guess when you're just some intergalactic whiner who complains about blood stains on his uniform then I guess you're always just looking out for yourself_."

Robin floated within the surrounding supernatural ether and stewed away at the thought of receiving what some may have thought to be her just desserts. "_Hey, how come you aren't down here with us in the active party, Kylie? I mean, you've got more than enough pull in the Corps to horn your way into a field assignment instead of looking on from afar like Raiden's girlfriend_."

"_Hey! I am not a metaphorical Rosemary_!" Kyle shouted back, his candor equipped with a unique brand of rage that could only be summoned by an unapologetic nerd. "_I'm metaphorical Otacon_. _You're Raiden."_

"_I don't wanna be Raiden! That doesn't even make sense! In Sons of Liberty Raiden got his field intel from the AI pretending to be Colonel Campbell_!"

"_Raiden spoke with Otacon a whole bunch of times! That counts_."

"_Would the both of you please stop trying to embarrass our planet_," Jordan said crossly while feeling the opening shots of a migraine firing across his brow. "_Stephanie, you and I both know that there are a half-dozen Green Lanterns waiting on the drop ship just 850,000 miles away. If we need anyone's help then we can get it but, as for now, we're the ones that Larfleeze is expecting and we're going to be the ones to go in_."

"_Fine, fine. So then what's the real skinny behind this guy then_?" Stephanie asked gamely. "_I mean, what kind of stuff would inspire a guy to just develop a yen for killing everybody except him_?"

Hal briefly brushed the tip of his tongue against the left side of his cheek. "Well, you know that Ganthet mentioned that Larfleeze was forced into slavery as a child. He eventually managed to dash his way out of that before eventually going into a life of thievery that apparently made its way up into wholesale murder. There's also the fact that Maltus had once been home to some of the most prominent mercantile organizations within The Taruk Nebula. I'm no psychologist but I would imagine that Larfleeze was put into the employ of a powerful trader and came to have a desire for the things that he had worked so hard for others to have. Perhaps slaughtering everyone he ever knew and then some was just his way of making certain that no one would ever control him again."

"Huh." Stephanie wrapped the fingers of her right hand around her chin and scraped at her lower jaw in a histrionic manner. "So a guy who started out at the very bottom of his respective society manages to rise up through the muck by willing himself into lashing back against authority and doing what needs to be done. Are we _sure _this isn't just a guy who failed his audition with The Green Lantern Corps?"

"_Hah, I told you, Hal_!"

Hal had no way of providing a face-to-face reaction to Kyle's instinctual exclamation but he zeroed in on Stephanie's conspiratorial manner with an unwavering stare. "Larfleeze slaughtered billions so that he could get to a place where he could have whatever he wanted. He was willing to sacrifice the hopes, dreams, and lives of countless creatures, guilty and innocent alike. Something like that isn't just summing up your strength of will. That's greed."

Kyle remained silent but Stephanie was still ready to play. "Says the apparent poster boy of the most prominent political entity in the cosmos."

"The Green Lantern Corps and The Guardians we follow fight for the right for everyone to seek liberty and happiness while fighting those who would take that privilege from others. If the both of you want to summon a soft spot for the mass murderer then do it on your own time. But, if you want my opinion, I've already grown long tired of hearing excuses either from myself or anybody else so don't come at me or your fellow soldiers while they're doing what needs to be done."

Hal shut down the force barrier with a thought before zooming on ahead. Watching him go, Stephanie realized that there were still a great many things that could have been said but again she opted to refrain from them all. She poured a fraction more of her energy into her assigned task and picked up her pace to just under half the speed of light, the emerald shield around her body preventing the resulting friction from pounding her bones into powder. The astonishing pace continued on for nearly twenty silent minutes until Hal eventually slowed to a relative crawl and Larfleeze's home world was in plain sight. The titanic sphere pulsed with bright oranges and yellows in part to the searing radiation provided by a long-surviving star residing nearly a light year away. The planet's sheer size gifted it with a gravitational pull that had brought in massive chunks of lunar rock that cluttered Stephanie's surroundings to the point where she had to twist and turn to avoid any undue crashes as she continued to follow Hal through the bleak magnetosphere.

_Well, who wouldn't commit genocide to have a piece of a place like this_, the Gotham-based Robin thought with a smirk while continuing to soar towards her destination.

* * *

_9:41 P.M. Central Standard Time_

The Black Canary managed to summon enough of her athleticism to leap over the bar and slide between Batman and Penguin before either of them could get into striking distance. Extending her arms wide as a warning to the darkly determined detective, she briefly twisted her neck to look back at the former crime lord and stilled him with a glare. The impediment seemed to center Cobblepot's frustrations to a sticking point and the owner of the surrounding dilapidated nightspot became content to waggling a fat finger at the still billionaire.

"I knew it! I should have forced this harridan off my property on the moment of her arrival! You sent her here to grease the wheels of your favorite source of information and catharsis!"

The Batman's cool smirk only further reminded Dinah Lance that the train was still somehow continuing to run in spite of the distinct lack of tracks. "Don't flatter yourself. There isn't any challenge in turning your face into pulp."

"That's enough! Both of you!" The lilt of anger in her voice and the disappointment in her rich, blue eyes seemed to do nothing to appease The Batman's smugness and that only inspired The Penguin's righteous ire until she could nearly feel the broiling heat of the portly gentleman's anger. "This isn't going to accomplish anything! We all have common enemies and interests so let's focus on that."

"This is precisely why there is no hope of maintaining my desires and dreams for a deserved existence rife with panache and sophistication! This pointy-eared, living, breathing Sword of Damocles constantly poised over my neck that will haul me to the brink time and again!"

"Oh, this is ridiculously overdramatic even for you!" The Batman barked back, his growling baritone holding more sarcasm than the bone-chilling dread that he usually brought to the table. "We're all well aware that you still have your bulbous ear to the ground and I assure you that I did not invite The Black Canary here to charm you out of whatever you've acquired."

"It was you who was responsible for the destruction of my precious Iceberg!" The Penguin roared even as Dinah forced Batman back a step with another aggressive stare. "You were the one who brought me the attentions of that pugnacious scalawag when I had been nowhere near the battlefield! Then, after the embodiment of my dreams and ambitions lain in ruins you make no effort to apologize for your conduct. No efforts made to provide emotional or fiscal compensation for the grievous losses I endured. . ."

"You're insured to your disease-ridden gills, for God's sakes!" Batman bellowed while sweeping his right arm with such fury and emotion that it even startled Dinah. "You're even richer now than you were before!"

"And now you return to my doorstep as remorseless and unflinching as you've ever been requesting for my aid once again!"

"Shut up! Shut Up! SHUT UP!" Dinah butted in, her blonde hair swishing back and forth across her neck as she brought her glare from one quarreling rival to the other. She offered a brief prayer to whatever conversational deities that happened to be paying attention while shoving The Batman further away from the fray until she believed that The Penguin was safely out of ear shot. And, while all that was going on, the two other new arrivals had more than enough of an opportunity to prop themselves against one of the few healthy tables and watch the scene unfold.

"Geez. Did he really not even bother to stop by after The Iceberg was destroyed?" Nightwing asked, his voice a polished kind of quiet candor after spending the bulk of his life keeping his gossiping away from the healthy ears of his adopted father. "That's. . . that's just cold."

"Oswald Cobblepot is a criminal!" The Huntress whispered back through pursed lips. The extremely polar reaction eventually earned her Nightwing's pointed glare and she couldn't help but wither back. "Well, I stopped by a couple times. I thought. . . you know. . . that might have been enough."

Batman now looked as if he had somehow sunk his teeth into a dozen rotten lemons. "I am not apologizing for this!" he growled back through gritted teeth. "That. . . man is an unrepentant criminal. He's tried to kill not only me but my nearest and dearest dozens of times over! He's tried to kill you!"

"Yes, but now we're trying to be kinder, gentler, potentially homicidal vigilantes." The swift swivel of her neck to check and see that everything behind her was going on smoothly brought a bang of her blonde hair to lie against her forehead and she swept it back with a huff. "Besides, The Penguin didn't do anything wrong here. Both of our hacker people confirmed that he was operating a completely legitimate business here and the reason he isn't doing that right now is because of his ties with you."

Batman's cross glare was lacking in its usual unflinching determination. "I don't have 'ties' with The Penguin."

"Well, call it whatever you want to call it but it's still there!," countered Dinah, her own tone cooling along with the candor of her longtime colleague. "He's tried to kill you, you put him in the hospital and the both of you repeated that about 40 or 50 times but you're both in better places now! Now you respond to that good change in behavior by forgetting that he even exists until you need him? That's not fair."

"How intriguingly peculiar," The Penguin noted from thirty feet and one drastically different social environment away, his shuffled steps eventually bringing him near to Huntress and Nightwing. The two younger crime fighters regarded him with discreet nods while naturally keeping their eyes glued on the scene unfolding before them and The Penguin responded in kind. "Tell me. Has our shrouded mutual acquaintance always been so comparatively contented to discuss such manners with the lady canary?"

"It happens every now and again," Nightwing whispered back, the former child acrobat still keeping his eyes on the quarreling duo. "I think it's always been, y'know, he respects her but doesn't want to say that because she thinks she might tell somebody that he told her that he respects her."

"She kissed him once," The Huntress mumbled, her unveiled secret drawing the intrigued glares of the two gentlemen around her. "It was during the whole Secret Society thing and he had just thanked me for helping with things in Gotham and she basically just. . . mugged him with her lips. Course she just tried to talk it off but when I ask her about it she fires off a joke really quick and changes the topic."

"Quiet! Quiet! They're turning about!" The Penguin murmured forcefully and soon the three gossipers were caught up in humanity's eternal practice of trying to look unsuspicious while involuntarily making themselves appear profoundly guilty. Of course, judging from the way that The Batman was stomping over to them like a chastened toddler and how The Black Canary continued to linger just a few steps behind watching the detective's every move it appeared that no one was in any condition to accuse anyone of social improprieties. Batman finally came to a stop when he was just several meters in front of Cobblepot. He straightened up, his shoulders stretched and his pectoral muscles extended as he took a breath and quickly let it out in a manner that made him look as if he was trying to squeeze the frustration from his very blood.

"I need some of the information you have acquired concerning Intergang's activities in Bludhaven. I apologize for any responsibility that I or my colleagues may have had with the destruction of The Iceberg."

The Penguin suddenly found himself blessed to not only witness the delicious sight of his longtime enemy twisting in the wind but also observe The Black Canary with her arms crossed and her eyes and nose scrunched up as if she were daring her anti-social colleague to say anything that stood against the metaphorical script. "Well, as you so blithely stated, the unfortunate annihilation of my life's work has coincidentally left me with greater financial stability than I have ever known. That being said, I naturally do not appreciate being treated as if I were some kind of vulgar vending machine designed to churn out one's requested goods with the simple push of a button."

"Or a breaking of a bone," Nightwing chimed in. The amiable retort brought The Huntress to sniggering but a cross look from Dinah quickly prompted the two younger vigilantes to return to being silent observers.

The Penguin, on the other hand, let out a long sigh as he too straightened up to his full height (which left Batman only just a foot taller). "The reality remains that while my past dalliances are partially to blame for becoming the target of Luthor's ambitions I am still living a life under every letter of the law. Your decision to carelessly disregard my desires for a peaceful life while still consigning myself to serve as your useful tool is nothing less than a vile act of immorality."

"Okay, that's enough of the flowery self-righteousness. . ." Dinah quickly interjected while striding forward herself. However, just as she had done for him, Bruce was there to meet her with an arm while keeping his eyes on the decidedly contented and self-appointed champion of social graces.

"No, he's right, Black Canary," Batman said flatly, his proud head tilted so that he could match eyes with both Dinah and Cobblepot. "If I can find reason to employ The Grove Street Ballers to control Gotham's dwindling criminal rackets then I can afford to treat this gentleman with a greater respect. He isn't. . . a slot machine."

The Penguin let out a snort in spite of his cheery temperament. "A vending machine, you uncultured shut-in."

"Regardless of that. . ." Batman went on, his tone caught between warning and a desire to maintain the status quo, "I owe you a debt, Penguin." Taking a step back, the detective extended his muscular arms wide as a familiar smirk again reappeared on his lips.

"Tell you what. Free shot."

* * *

_London – 2:42 A.M. U.T.C. Time_

A raggedly aged 1981 Citreon dutifully chugged its way to a stop at the gravel perimeter of the largest Windsor townhouse within the borders of England's capital. The utterly lush surroundings of freshly mowed grass, peerlessly trimmed birches and elms that had stood proud and tall through thousands of years and the gigantic manor that loomed in the distance all seemed to mock the tiny vehicle with its rusted fender and the white paint rendered ashen from years of service. The four doors swung open in a quick, staccato procession and five gentlemen emerged from the cramped automobile, their combined weight allowing the French-made vehicle to let out an audible groan of relief from being relieved of its burden. Four of the five visitors were already beginning to inch their way closer to their eventual destination leaving one to hold back. This same swarthy gentleman who had provided the greatest portion of the aforementioned weight instead continued to beleaguer his mechanical steed by leaning against the hood with a brawny arm while using the ring finger of his spare arm to briefly pick at his bulbous nose.

"Ya sure ya want to go through with this, guv? I mean, 's not that I don't think you can't 'andle yourself but ya kind of steppin' into the lion's den here, yeah?"

The Black Dog took a moment to find comfort in the cautionary tones of his former mentor. "'Ll be all right, Nigel," he replied with assurance, the telepath's usually polished brogue growing a bit more coarse thanks to the influence of his more roughly hewn comrade. "I mean, I may be a bit loathe to go through with this but Naomi's right. If we want to learn anything more about Vincent's old demon and whether he's playing a role in all this then Morrigan is our best bet to find out."

Nigel Thornton let out a huff despite the sound logic, the skilled Sambo expert, former bodyguard for Mao Tenryu, and the current proprietor of The Rusty Sambo quite obviously maintaining his protective instincts as it concerned his former student. "Sure you don't want me to come in wit' ya? I mean, I wasn't really expectin' a shot at a spot of violence but I kin work meself up to it."

Lloyd shook his head while sporting a sluggish smile. "Don't worry about it, Nigel. Besides, given your history here I'm guessing that this is probably the last place that you want to be."

The obese barkeep spent a brief moment attempting to maintain his social niceties but it wasn't long before reality made its presence felt. "Just tryin' to be the nice type here, guv," he confessed while opening the driver's side door wide so that he could slump back inside the vehicle. "Try not to get eaten, yeah?"

The half-demon sorcerer gave his kindly guide an ambling wave before turning his back to the sound of the Citreon's engine sputtering back to life. He heard the old tires briefly warring against the gritty thoroughfare before finding their traction and rolling away even as he turned his attention towards his three remaining travelling colleagues. Roy greeted him with an expectant nod which Lloyd quietly returned, the two frequent comrades feeling no real need to communicate about matters that the both of them would easily resolve. The Black Dog then took a moment to examine Jason Blood's squinting scrutinizing of the distant mansion in the distance and quickly came to the conclusion that the old sorcerer was unraveling the surrounding mysteries at a pace that he would be hard pressed to match. This then left him with the youngest member of his motley crew and Lloyd was quick to grab Eddie's attention by grasping him firmly on the shoulder.

"Guessing at how much it would cost to rent a room for the night?" he asked, the telepath then quickly retracting his grip to prevent any damage from making contact with Eddie's scorching hot skin.

Kid Devil chuckled while smoothing the long fingers of his right hand against his shoulder-length mane of silver hair. "Well, you have to admit that it's really impressive," the Teen Titan replied. "I mean, it's like looking at something out of _Pride and Prejudice_ or something."

"Well, then perhaps I was placing too much hope into whether or not you would recognize how the surroundings reek of supernatural shifts," Jason Blood threw in with his usual harsh candor, the car ride over putting a slight hobble in the step of the millennia-old magician. "Tread lightly, all of you."

Roy quirked his lips to one side of his mouth while resisting the urge to give the advancing grump a dirty look. "I don't know. Judging from all the lighting along the porticos and the edges of the inside perimeter it looks like this Morrigan chica is in the middle of hosting an all-night soiree."

"I'd say that's a highly likely possibility," Lloyd agreed while striding forward as well, his short, measured steps leaving him trailing behind Jason at about the same handful of feet that Eddie and Roy were traveling behind him. "That being said, I'd still be a little worried about just who might be asked to provide the entertainment."

The cries of a murder of crows sounded off against the wall of trees to the west as the four somewhat invited guests continued down the elegant ebony cobblestone walkway. The adjacent lawn surrounding them on both sides seemed to sparkle from the low moonlight and the residue left behind by a late evening drizzle and that beautiful sight prompted Roy to bring his right hand closer to the hip holster that housed his Karbarran energy pistol. The sharpshooter then pulled the potent weapon free from its trappings just as Lloyd brought his own gleaming silver saber to a front guard as the pastoral surroundings seemed to be gradually more shrouded within a thick curtain of night. Jason's wrinkled hands were blazing with unholy heat as figures began to emerge from whatever or wherever they were now and that left Kid Devil the last to prepare himself as a sliver of panic ran through his glimmering eyes.

"Take to what little air we got, Eddie," Lloyd cautioned while moving to the back guard of their impromptu battle formation. He would have normally resorted to his nearly instinctual talent of telepathy but his limited experience with working with his fellow half-demon prompted The Black Dog to leave nothing to chance. "I'll keep an eye on you."

The young swordsman couldn't know for certain if the Teen Titan was either encouraged or annoyed by the cautionary assurance but it did get the job done as the growls and hisses continued to grow louder around them. His active eyes caught the sight of nearly a dozen werewolves, their grey fur and bluish-black snouts evidence of their Northern Irish origins, scampering on all fours to rush at them. Brown-feathered bird-like beasts with long, sharp beaks and razor claws beneath their elongated wings also looked to swoop down at whatever angles that weren't taken by their larger comrades and that was all the information that The Black Dog could gather before the battle began in full. The air stank of brimstone as Kid Devil spat gouts of hellfire from his maw that buffeted their opponents from the air while the familiar hum of Roy's BMFG served as a preamble for the summoning of tectonic shockwaves that sent the majority of the werewolves into either a stumble or outright fall to the floor. Far more used to Arsenal's tendency to literally shake up the battlefield, Lloyd had little trouble warding off what few forces got through with either the hilt of the _Mugalshir _or with his fast and wickedly accurate feet.

"Well, I gotta admit that this wasn't the kind of action I was looking to be a part of tonight," Harper confessed while ducking under the dive of a still stumbling werewolf. Keeping his energy pistol primed and prepared, the red-haired sharpshooter calmly used his Bowie knife to hamstring the four-legged beast with a deep gash through the heel of his rear left paw. "Hey! Any reason why neither one of you just don't end this scrap with a snap of your fingers."

"I have no desire in merely peddling away the sum results of my centuries of training, Mister Harper!" Jason Blood shouted back clearly. His vast experience in summoning had allowed the sorcerer to generate a white walking cane nearly five feet in length with a sturdy oak base whose impressive durability was further proven as the human host of Etrigan smashed the beak of one of the bird like beasts with a two-handed swipe. "I would hope that your own work would allow you to have at least a sliver of the same kind of pride."

Pressing the green button on the expansive panel of his energy pistol, Roy pulled the trigger and let loose a stream of electric energy that scattered another flock of their flying foes. "Okay. This time can I have my question answered by someone who _isn't _an asshole?"

"_It means we're being watched, mate," _The Black Dog replied, the tone within his telepathy containing only a small fraction of Blood's exasperation. _"Bloody hell, she's offering us up like slabs of meat and that's not the business we're here to conduct and I'm not in the mood to put lives on the line."_

"_See? That wasn't so hard," _Arsenal thought back, his own tone a titch more whimsical as he put into motion the second half of his friend's unspoken request. "K.D.! Come back by us, sweetie!" he shouted while letting loose another stream of electricity from his energy pistol that scattered the aerial foes that were clustering around the scarlet-skinned half demon. "We're about to see a little flash and sizzle here!"

Eddie's tawny eyes glimmered with a slight moment of confusion in response to the open-ended request. Of course, what Kid Devil lacked in instincts he often made up for with a talent for adhering to the orders of those who could make sound use of his talents. He displayed that amiable trait nce again as he dropped to the ground to throw off his opponents and allow Roy to fire away unimpeded. Also, now that he was no longer forced to extend his arms wide in order to keep himself aloft, he was able to employ his lanky but deceptively powerful arms to swat aside foes approaching him from both land and air while dashing towards the center of the increasingly crowded battlefield. He dashed to Lloyd's side while quite aware of the silver aura that rose at The Black Dog's feet. He looked on silently as the energy continued to climb until it flared above Lloyd's black hair and coerced the black strands into rising and spiking under the force of the supernatural energy. A moment later a blinding light seemed to explode all around him and Eddie instinctually shielded his hands over his eyes to lessen the impact.

Several tense seconds passed as his ears continued ringing and spots persistently swam in front of his eyes but, as Eddie focused, the dusty catacombs that had mysteriously taken the place of a picturesque front garden had changed form once again. He now stood at the center of what appeared to be a spacious, well-lit dance floor whose high ceilings were generously littered with crystal chandeliers that drew the half-demon right back into thinking he had walked straight into a Jane Austen novel. Of course, the crowd that stood above them in the balconies that surrounded the dance floor was enough of a jarring sight to steer him away from daydreams of Keira Knightly and Gwyneth Paltrow.

There stood dozens of socialites: human, demon and what looked like everything in between looking down on them and nearly all of them were dressed to the nines in elegant dresses and suits. There were impossibly beautiful women with glimmering crimson eyes and a Fyarl dressed in an Oxford tuxedo that somehow managed to cover the massive ridges of muscle that ran above the creature's shoulders. There was a massive troll with his red hair slicked back surrounded by several recognizable Hollywood starlets hanging on the beast's muscular arms. Up next on the visual tableau was an impossibly old woman, her eyes white and pupiless and her musculature dwindled to the point where her once robust skin hung off her bones, impassively accepting the romantic efforts of what Eddie thought to be one of the lesser Baldwin brothers. He couldn't be sure. Hell, it was impossible to keep track of them all.

But those eccentricities, quite obviously, were immediately rendered worthless to Edward Bloomberg as he caught sight of an unrivaled beauty who strode past the crowd gathered on the northern balcony. Her black dress seemed to melt and slide against her voluptuous curves and the slits across the fine silk that cut across her right leg and the bridge of her bosom served to provide some delicious clues as to what exactly lay underneath. Her full breasts, slim hips, and long, slender legs, all standards of a classic beauty, managed to mesh perfectly with the alluring contrast of an elegant mane of emerald-green hair that cascaded down her long neck to fall against her slender, creamy shoulders. The barely perceptible upward tilt of her lush lips and the glimmer within her jade eyes was not content enough to make the teenage superhero feel as if he was the only man in the room. No, Kid Devil was seeing her cast a longing glare from a barren wasteland that no one had ever successfully crossed and he would willingly brave death and painful isolation to accept such an extravagant reward.

"Two seconds in and you're already poking around a poor kid's head just to give these partygoers a good time," a harsh British tone snapped back with enough intensity to snap Kid Devil from his delirium. "One would have hoped that the lady of the manor would be a bit more courteous."

The intoxicating woman provided her accuser with a wicked frown as her guests continued to draw laughter at a hero's expense. When she spoke there was a slender lilt of an Irish brogue that somehow managed to draw influence from the distant emotional countries of amusement and import. "First you ruin the promise I made for physical warfare and then you accost me for providing harmless entertainment? Lloyd, surely you haven't forgotten the value of providing quality entertainment?"

The British telepath was in no mood to bring his teeth anywhere near the bait. "This party is over, Lady Aensland."

The immortal succubus raised her jade eyebrows. "How now, lad. It would look to me as if it were just beginning."

* * *

_9:57 Central Standard Time_

"OH. . . MY. . . GOD!" Dinah Lance exclaimed, her annoyance apparent with every syllable as she threw her hands up and briefly turned away from the smirking Batman and an increasingly aggravated Oswald Cobblepot. "Really? We're going this route? Really?!"

"How dare you encroach upon my sanctum santorum and make such a vulgar request," The Penguin added, his large, beakish nose turned upward as if the authority of his own good manners was preparing to lift him off of his pudgy feet. "The only thing I even remotely asked for was a civil apology for your selfishness and transgressions and instead you attempt to drag the sphere of influence back to your pugilistic court."

"Well, now we've gotten to the real sticking point haven't we, Penguin," Batman replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "You've never had the guts to dirty your own hands. Always relying on hired thugs or trick umbrellas but they're not going to help you fix your little tacky nightspot, are they?"

"_Tacky?!" _The single-word retort came out more as a high-pitched screech than the indignant bellow that The Penguin was probably shooting for. "You licentious defamatory intractable despot!"

"Big words but still no punches!" Batman exclaimed, his smirk so pronounced that Huntress and Nightwing found themselves divvying out an impressive supply of their willpower to merely resist the urge to roll on the floor and laugh like hyenas. "Come on, Pengy! Wah wahk wah wah wahk wah! Wahk wah wah wah wahk wahk. . ."

The heartless mockery of his exclamations of merriment simply proved to be too much for Oswald Cobblepot to stand. The socialite and murderer tilted his portly body to the left so he could build up momentum before throwing his body forward and slamming his adjacent fist into the callous detective with all the strength he could muster. Unfortunately for him, The Penguin did not place near as much thought to placement as he did to power and that led to him slamming his beefy knuckle into Batman's gut at the precise point where his Kevlar armor was the sternest. The sound of popping metacarpals managed to dominate the aural scene for nearly a second before Cobblepot let out an anguished scream as Huntress and Nightwing clamped their hands around their mouths to keep from making too much noise.

This was the scene that was intruded upon by a lanky gentleman wearing a lime green jacket and vest, a matching bowler hat with purple trim, and an ivory white and fashionable walking staff that briefly preceded his slow and steady steps. Long past the desire or necessity of wearing a royal purple mask across his wide, minutely tanned brow, the most reputable private detective in the Western hemisphere allowed the situation a curious glare.

"My goodness. Do I even _want _to know what's going on here?"

"Naughty Nigma!" Nightwing exclaimed with a merry wave of his right hand, the former child acrobat in far too good of a mood to be perturbed by the sight of what had once been one of his adopted father's most dangerous enemies. "Hey, is the whole 'selling your soul' thing still working out for ya?"

Edward Nigma, the man known in some circles as the infamous Riddler, calmly greeted the dig with a curious tilt of his thin, brown eyebrows. "Well, we can't all receive stipends from both the federal government and a generous adoptive benefactor," he countered while quickly shifting his sights to the far more intriguing portion of the scene. He shifted quickly from the Black Canary's pointed glare to Batman's casual disinterest to Penguin's seething annoyance and came to his conclusions with the speed and clarity that had made him a threat well before he became a profitable commodity. "I have gathered some decidedly pertinent information regarding Intergang's more subversive activities within Bludhaven's governmental infrastructure. I was hoping to relay this information to Nightwing personally and the good Mister Kuttler was kind enough to steer me into what proves to be the true track."

The Riddler knew that he had hastily taken possession of the spotlight and that was precisely what he had come to expect in the half-decade since he had abandoned his rarely lucrative career as a supervillain in favor of proudly servicing as a private investigator to the stars. Bringing his walking cane up and ensnaring the long handle within his knuckles, his lively green eyes briefly darted back and forth between one former comrade/rival to the other. "Of course, now it appears that 'Dank Ark Might Ghost' has finally put it upon himself to apologize for his part in the devastation that loom around us and I cannot help but ponder whether I should be expecting some kindly act of contrition as well.

Batman had been keeping one eye on The Penguin throughout The Riddler's showy greetings but now he brought his attentions to Nigma in full. It was true that his old rival had played an integral role in not only discovering the true intentions of Neron's most recent invasion but also in finding a way to travel to Hashmalamum to deal with the greater demon before Earth could be overrun. Nigma's diligent curiosity had nearly cost him a gruesome death at the hands of some of Neron's dangerous lieutenants but that debt had been paid in full and the shit-eating grin on the private investigator's face was steadily placing him back in the metaphorical red.

"Give me a name."

The Riddler kept his smirk up for a second more before gently relenting. "The sordid gentleman in question is BrunoMannheim. Apparently he was one of the few principal players who were not apprehended during The Black Dog's purging of Intergang's influences from Gotham four years ago. I would wager that you are still aware of Mannheim's past allegiance with Darkseid but I have acquired direct proof of a continued correlation with Mister Luthor. As a matter of fact there is tangible evidence of transactions from several of Mannheim's offshore accounts to various Bludhaven governmental luminaries like Mister Steiff."

Batman managed to get in a nod of approval before The Penguin managed to waddle between the two detectives. "Curse you and your uninhibited tongue, Nigma. You're giving this uncouth fiend precisely what he wants with no hopes for revenue. . ."

The rotund entertainer would have doubtlessly provided something more to say if he was not suddenly shouldered aside by Gotham's dark knight as the masked vigilante strode away. Black Canary, Huntress, Nightwing, and The Riddler were all kind enough to offer brief looks of apology in the seconds to follow but it wasn't long at all before Cobblepot found himself alone again amongst the ruins. Briefly seething in his aggravation, he let out a snort from his elongated nose before stooping down to pick up some plaster off from the floor.

The hulking figure remained motionless as Batman and his motley crew made their way from The Iceberg to begin their travel to Gotham's crime-ridden sister city. His surroundings were shrouded in darkness save for the wall of monitors piled in front of him and the dull, pulsing glow of his green eye. There was no need for him to pay any specific whit of attention to one piece of machinery in particular since he had now come to the point where the information there to be had could be summoned to his synapses like water through a sieve.

So he took a moment to observe. The Penguin was busily straightening up his dilapidated property. Tim Drake was preparing the small devices and weapons that would soon be housed within the pouches of his utility belt. Green Arrow was having a quiet but animated conversation with Mia Dearden in the mess hall of Titans Tower.

The door swung open and closed shut with a grace and fluidity that John Corben had come to expect from the entry's manipulator. Feeling no need to greet the expected arrival, the android known more to the world as Metallo continued to silently observe the goings on until his guest manage to amble towards his side.

"Well, it would appear that the good detective is now fully prepared to pull at the weakest of our frayed strings."

Metallo let out a grunt of disinterest that melded awkwardly with his artificial vocal chords until the sound didn't sound like it could come from anything human. "I can have that preening freak eliminated with a blink of the eye, Lex."

Lex Luthor, the true leader of the crime operation that Batman was trying to bring down, responded with a glib smirk. "Now, Mister Corben. Transforming Oswald Cobblepot into a smear on his own carpet would barely provide more good than harm. If Batman does managed to twist that corpulent rogue into his hand then that will only provide him with a slightly better base of operations that will only serve to better accentuate his eventual downfall. For now we will allow the shrouded detective his fun and give Mannheim a chance to prove that he truly belongs within the fold."

Not content to mirror Metallo's detached manner of observation, the bald-headed former president and CEO stepped closer to the assemblage of monitoring equipment in order to focus on one running event in particular. This bird's eye view had been particularly difficult to get a hold of given the victim's supernatural senses but eventually Circe had managed to whip up a supernatural cloaking cocktail that could slip under the notice of even the ever-attentive daughter of Trigon. Luthor would not deny that Raven had earned a scant hint of his personal attention. Her past efforts to convince young Connor that he could be something more than a puppet at his command had gone a long way to twisting his pet project into a wasteful enterprise.

Of course, the little witch could only distract him for so long. It was only a moment before Lex turned his ardent attentions to the woman seated across from Raven, the latest champion from a ruined world who appeared to insist that those born from Earth were not worthy to defend it in full. However, unlike her cousin, Luthor was intrigued enough by Kara Zor-el's potential to give her one last opportunity to seek a more palatable existence. Like any master strategist, he had come to embrace the humility of his past mistakes and was already seeking another avenue for which to achieve his ultimate ambitions. If he was planning to demonstrate that his methods would provide her with a more desirable experience then he had to showcase what he had to offer.

And what could be said about his plans for the hours to come? His grand step towards extinguishing the flag bearers of an entire generation of potential metahuman crimefighters?

Well, even Lex Luthor needed to have some fun.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Well, I suppose I should apologize for the rather leisurely pace that this issue was hammered out. Of course, this could all just be a gesture to acquire motivation from those who draw entertainment from my freely provided product. A review or two might go quite a way into convincing me that I should set aside more time for this project instead of devoting it towards my fiancée, my job, video games, athletics and all the other stuff. The legacy stats tell me that people are still reading this so it would be nice to hear from a few of you! Just sayin'. . .

Ah well. Enough whinging. Let's get back to the meat.

* * *

_Issue #147 Preview_

So what does the devious Morrigan Aensland have in store for Lloyd and his comrades? Will The Riddler's diligent efforts bring Batman and his crew one step closer to making Bludhaven a safer place or will it just give The Dark Knight of Gotham City another chance to be harangued by a blonde-haired songbird? What does Lex Luthor have in store for The Teen Titans and how will Hal and Stephanie respond when somebody doesn't take too kindly to horning in on his possessions?

And can the author actually manage to go a whole five issues without any kind of a significant action scene? Find out the answers to these questions and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Sounds of a Revolution. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	147. Sound of The Revolution

Issue #147

Sound of the Revolution

_Day 2 of investigations – Titans Tower – 10:37 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Kara briefly tuned her ears to focus on the infinitesimal drone of the security camera above her head. Casually chalking it away as one of Cyborg's security measures, she took in a slow and steady supply of air through her nostrils. The inhalation becoming so long and pronounced that she could feel the flow of her blood vessels from the tips of her toes as it rose up her legs, chest, arms and shoulders until it felt that all the tension and weariness had been shunted from her mind and readied for release. Finally she did so through a prolonged hiss from her lips and the fair-haired, half-Kryptonian spent another instinctual moment feeling the world around her, calmly soaking in any element of peace and tranquility that she could find. The measure was just the last step of her relaxation training, the greatest weapon she had to combat the anger and shame she took in from the past and continued to weather in the present and would doubtlessly do so in the future.

"Last night it took you nearly twice as long to reach your relaxed state. I am pleased that my own obstacles have not impeded you."

Kara tranquilly conducted the next heavy breath while accepting the smooth and relaxed words of the woman seated across from her. Not more than a year ago she would have detached herself from her senses so thoroughly that she might have allowed the apologetic statement to go unnoticed. The problem had been that she would place so much of her focus upon reaching relaxation and the shutdown of her senses that she would occasional incur a state of desensitizing overcompensation that prompted her into turning off the world rather than taking it all in. Both Bruce and Lloyd had been patient and diligent with their instruction as to avoid the potentially harmful state of mind (while Stephanie's "Cold Water on The Head of Unsuspecting Kara" produced a more practical form of problem solving).

"No, my difficulties didn't have anything to do with you, Raven. You've been very accommodating." Kara suddenly felt that someone's eyes were upon her and she craned open her own to meet Raven's inquisitive glare. Having more than her fair share of experience as it came to deciphering the thoughts of half-demon telepaths, she made no effort to shield any reservations she may have had and simply allowed the violet-eyed Teen Titan to examine her.

"Thank you," Raven inevitably replied, a tinge of understandable chagrin popping up from her otherwise muted candor. "My struggles to contain the temptations delivered by my father can often monopolize my thoughts. Occasionally that focus can interfere with registering the elements of what is going on around me."

Kara let out another breath, this one less focused on the process and more for allowing a gentle smile. "Well, I don't have any room to talk. That being said, did you ever think that this constant defense could leave you just as susceptible? I mean, if you're constantly putting up a resistance then Trigon may not even have to maintain an offensive to keep you on guard. He could simply rest and await the opportune time to strike."

There was a shimmer of anger in Raven's eyes but she managed to bottle it up in an equally fast flash before replacing it with a thoughtful glance. "That. . . occasionally crosses my mind," she finally offered before shutting her eyes, her indigo cape fluttering with the slight wavering of her tiny frame as it continued to hover a foot-and-a-half above the floor. "But I cannot simply give in to my prideful nature on account of greater emotional security. The consequences are far too steep."

The former Supergirl kept her crystalline blue eyes open, her own thoughts momentarily clouded with her memories of a hate-riddled woman who seemed to have no issue with twisting her surroundings to fit her desires. "I sometimes wonder if all the work I place into controlling my anger and establishing a state of calm will just precipitate an eventual downfall. The Afflicted fought for _years _to ensure the kind of life that I want to fight for and it was her failure to maintain it that turned her into a monster."

"Why do you refer to yourself as her?"

That managed to startle Kara.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked with a trace of trepidation.

Raven slowly opened her eyes once again, her assuredness plain as day. "Every time you refer to 'The Afflicted', this possibility of who you might become in the future, you assign it to the third-person. You consciously cast it away as an aberration rather than own it as a part of who you are and what you might become."

Now it was Kara's turn to bite back a sharp pulse of irritation. "Well, what about you? I mean, I may not know as much about your own struggles as you know of mine." The half-Praxian left the fact that she had willingly offered that potentially harmful information to run silently and let it linger. "Would you just simply want to be known as a potential ticking time bomb?"

"I'm already known as such." The fluttering of Raven's cloak came to a sudden stop and the daughter of Trigon remained still until she was convinced that she had the full attention of her guest. "When Richard Grayson integrated me into society I was presented with challenges that forced me to not only monitor the designs of my father but also recognize how dangerous my own powers could be. When I mistakenly believed that Wallace wished to see me as more than a friend I unconsciously manipulated his emotions to try and force him into thinking what I wished. When Richard and K'oriandr announced that they were going to marry I grew envious of their contentment and allowed my emotions to corrupt me until I became the monster that I dreaded. I could blame my father's ambitions or the manipulations of those that would bring harm to me but I allowed myself to give in. Those I care for may have forgiven me but the crimes remain mine."

Kara let out another long breath. However, while those that came before rang of harmony and self-assuredness this one spoke of fatigue with frightening volumes. She looked down to the floor beneath her slightly airborne feet, well aware that Raven now looked upon her with concern rather than accusation.

"I killed my biological mother. I may not have known of our connection and my father was responsible for stoking my anger but I'm the one with the blood on my hands." Kara felt herself brushing the fingers of her right hand against her pant leg and made certain to cease that activity with a quickness. "The blood just keeps running, Raven. Every time I bring myself to fight, every time I see the blood I spill it reminds me of the. . . freedom I felt through the violence. I can just shut myself off from what I'm afraid of what may happen and just. . . just soak in it."

"I would think that 'drown' would be the more appropriate desired action," Raven said shrewdly. "Then you can stop trying to push back at something that just keeps coming and just hold on to the certainty because at least then you know what you'll get."

Raven's haunting words left Kara feeling sunken, her chin muscles heavy and her brow leaden. She mustered the strength to look back at the half-demon and saw a similar countenance and suddenly felt that she couldn't let it stand. "You've earned a good life, Raven."

Not about to be shown up, the Teen Titan fired back with a wry smile. "So have you. Doesn't mean that it still isn't a bitch to fight for."

The coupled waves of relieved chortles provided a suitable background for the jovial mood of the newest arrival to Raven's chamber. Dressed in his familiar Robin Hood like attire, Oliver Queen observed the surprisingly pleasant scene and made a note to enjoy it before going about his roguish ways. "Well, I'm usually not the type to go hunting for Goths and granola chicks but I have to admit this is surprisingly nice to see."

Kara countered with a mischievous sneer. "I am _not _a 'granola chick'," she replied with determination while tilting her body to stand. "One, because I am an independent woman who refuses to accept those kinds of polarizing labels and, two, granola tastes like crap unless you dump a whole bunch of empty calories into it."

"Yeah, well, we can't all just include the 'fly around the world' exercise plan to our daily activities." Ollie tabled his amiable stare-off with Kara to turn to Raven and notice that the teenage mystic was being quite fastidious as it came to ensuring that her long, violet shawl covered her legs. "And don't start hating a guy for looking at your legs if you're going to go to all the trouble of showin' 'em off, young lady."

Raven countered with a scowl that she normally reserved for Garfield during one of his more juvenile comments. "I would suggest you adopt some greater discipline as it comes to staring but that doesn't appear to be a part of your routine either," the magician flatly replied, her cold delivery not appearing to wound Green Arrow in the least. "You're here to tell us that we're ready to being our investigation?"

"That I am." Oliver threw in a simple shrug of his shoulders while remaining quite confident that Raven had no need to peek into his head to glean that answer. "After the both of you, of course," he then added while stepping aside and allowing the two reserved ladies to pass through the entryway.

"If only to give you a challenge," Kara said while taking the lead on the way to the Titans Tower vehicle pool. "Let's see if the horny old man can actually keep himself from not leering at our butts on the way there, shall we?" A quick summoning of a portal and a violet-colored pulse quickly showed that Raven was not at all interested in participating in this particular test of will.

"I'll try to resist the temptation," Ollie gamely replied, the accomplished ladies man trailing behind while only taking a slight glimpse at the half-Kryptonian's jean-covered behind.

* * *

Stephanie wasn't certain if she was looking at a ruin or a planet-wide stockpile as she flew alongside Hal Jordan just a hundred or so feet above the surface of Maltus. Coasting gracefully through the murky, listless landscape of Larfleeze's home world, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns found it difficult to keep her focus simply because there were so many bizarre sights to be found. The dilapidated towers and porous former skyscrapers that populated the once thriving business centers along the oceans of the planet's northern hemisphere were phenomenal enough disasters to leave Hollywood special effects artists envious. The even vaster piles of rubble that surrounded them all seemed ready to scream out the tales of how they came to such a deplorable state and the Gotham-based Robin found herself quite interesting in taking a second to stop and listen. There were simple homes ripped in twain or reduced to shreds or even left to stand useless and alone, slave quarters and animal stables with no one there to punish or care for, and formerly lush forests razed and torn from their former roots to leave behind a tableau of utter desolation.

Yet for all the destruction and isolation they found upon the onset of their travels the two Green Lanterns soon recognized that the further they traveled east the sunnier the tableaus that were offered to them. Roads ripped asunder or riddled with enormous apertures or fissures were followed up by thoroughfares that were only slightly bumpy or cracked and soon the highways and skyways looked positively brand new and all in a matter of 100 miles. Massive formations of rock that were either spewing magma from their apexes or reduced to crumbling shards of stone provided the preliminary sight for enormous peaks without crags or crevices or any other evidence that they had been touched by time. Even forests rendered black and lifeless were replaced with trees running brown and pale amber before their eastern neighbors were seemingly flushed by continuous sunlight and enough resources to provide a pristine perfection.

"What. . . the. . . fuck." Stephanie finally concluded after traversing nearly 300 miles of this confusing terrain in the course of nearly 10 minutes, her confusion only mounting as she recognized that her comrade did not seem the least bit stunned. "It's like. . . it's like the whole planet just decided to pack up and head for a nicer neighborhood."

"_Or maybe somebody is just pulling everything in_," Hal offered through the Corps' telepathic network, the cryptic rejoinder serving as the only response that the veteran Green Lantern would provide. It was only logical that Stephanie would have some questions at the ready but all that was brushed aside when she came upon the collections. Now there were enormous piles of material possessions stacked amongst the faultless scenery and all of it was as meticulously organized as one could make such a massive array of supplies. At the eastern edge of a forest there was a 10-mile line of vehicles ranging from ground cars to internal environment shuttlecrafts to even a spaceship that could rival the size and majesty of Mao Tenryu's Lunar Whale. The downtown district of a glowing but empty capital city held a mammoth arrangement of sporting goods, a mile-high pile of jewels and glittering stones whose origins ranged to planets that Stephanie could not even begin to name. There was a pile of knick-knacks and gadgets and whosits and whatsits that it took nearly a minute for the both of them to weave around and hundreds of carefully arranged racks of small-arm weaponry from swords to axes to guns to missile launchers.

Stephanie was just on the verge of asking how their host managed to collect such seemingly unparalleled hordes before her senses were laid low by another unexpected stimuli. This one, however, managed to reach her nose well before her eyes and that alone may have been enough to describe the overwhelming stench of rot and decay that seemed prepared to desecrate her wits. It was another handful of travelled miles, a journey that brought them to some meticulously maintained homes and palaces where some of the wealthier merchants and businessmen had obviously dwelled, until she began to see the bodies. There were thousands upon thousands upon thousands of corpses all stacked in enormous mounds of rotting flesh and pale bones serving as grisly perimeters for the once flourishing estates. Most of the bodies had been overcome by decay to the point where identifying their place of origin would have required the scraping of genetic material from the marrow itself but the young Green Lantern was able to identify nearly a dozen types of humanoids and otherwise whose distinguishing characteristics she had come to know during her training on Oa. There were Earthlings and Karbarrans, Perytonians and Apokoliptian Parademons, Raanians and Thangaarians and the momentary contemplation that something could have been found in the equality of it all brought Stephanie into thinking what kind of creature she had become.

"Maltusian. Of course, that shouldn't be too much of a surprise given that we're on their home world." Hal Jordan made certain that he had caught Stephanie's attention before nodding towards a portion of one of the piles where dozens of similar looking humanoids were left to decay. Some of the skeletons were only able to be identified by the creatures' larger than average height so it was up to some of the fresher corpses to present their lanky limbs, smooth musculature, and their prominent, bug-like eyes placed prominently on the Maltusians' pronounced brows. "Did you notice the Karbarran materials in one of the downtown arrangements, Lieutenant? It's pretty likely that he could have gathered that on his own but it could very well have served as Luthor's payoff."

The younger of the two Green Lanterns offered back a distracted nod as she caught the sight of a particularly torn Karbarran corpse amidst the base of another swell of slaughter. She focused on the hole in the ursaroid's massive skull and was hit by her memories of the bravery of the bear-like creatures as they fought to retake their planet from The Sinestro Corps. She remembered the smiles, songs and tears that were sung and shorn in the hours after Leokar Kurkosaw and his forces were forced to retreat from the industrial powerhouse and that coerced her to extend her fingers to briefly touch the fallen stranger. It was only thanks to her years of training that she managed to avoid having those digits taken from her (along with much of the rest of her right arm) as she scrambled back and away from the spectral energy blade wielded by the planet's lone citizen.

"All is mine! MINE! The unwanted will will not take what I have earned!"

Stephanie had come to recognize sources of supernatural power over the course of her training on Oa and those months were the only thing that kept her from being overwhelmed by the potency of eldritch energy pouring from Larfleeze. Her ring was broadcasting its findings with enough force to send a humming noise between her ears and Robin suddenly realized why only experienced Green Lanterns had been invited to visit The Marauder of Maltus. Standing nearly eight feet tall with protracted limbs to match, his enormous black eyes were quivering along with the rest of his elongated forehead. His rickety countenance screamed the kind of focused insanity that could certainly have summoned the will and ability to commit the reprehensible crimes that he was accused of. Still, despite the recent attempt on her life, what truly grabbed her attention was that Larfleeze's attire was startlingly similar to the chosen battlefield attire of The Green Lantern Corps: a tight but breathable one-piece suit yet while Hal's was colored black and emerald Larfleeze had gone with black and orange.

The same orange as the aura that pulsed around his quivering body. The same orange as the supernatural device he wore on his right ring finger.

Stephanie could only dimly register Hal's demands to cease and desist but the sickening sights she had been privy to coagulated with the recent attempt on her life and prompted her to fight. Her spectral energy claws were ready in an instant and she quickly locked blades with the mass murderer. A pulse of pain shot through her temples the instant that emerald met orange, a consequence that she thought to have grown used to in her many experiences with matching up against other supernatural forces, but the force of this one still managed to startle her. She could feel the mania in the force that exploded from her aggressor and shuddered at the wildness of it. It was all untamed but so potent that it was something she could have only survived with the skills and tactics that had come from being humbled by those that she should have easily dispatched. With prodigious power often came little mistakes that a self-admittedly clever fighter could take advantage of and as blades clashed and the both of them continued to whirl and slash at the other, Stephanie quickly found herself quite interested in providing Larfleeze with a humbling of his own.

"Agent Orange, I would like to remind you that your status of neutrality in the eyes of The Corps is on the line here."

Larfleeze, as pitched as he was in the combat, somehow seemed in tune with the grander scheme of things and backed away before dissipating his energy blade and letting out a scornful snort. "Blue Green comes back here with all his lies! Even sends another who would steal more of what is mine."

"You tried to chop my arm off, you fucking psycho!" Robin shouted back, her experience with diplomacy decidedly abandoned and her energy claws still at the ready. "And you! You watch him try and kill me and respond by waving the peace flag?"

"The banner is MINE to wave!" Larfleeze spat back. "Far too generous was I to give away much of what is mine by allowing an accord with the Guardians. Now I stand here as the both of you take my breath. You best be grateful for my generosity!"

Hal extended his right arm as a warning for Stephanie to curb her bristling sense of aggression. "What in the hell did I just say about a mutual understanding?" The veteran Green Lantern asked again, his eyes locked firmly on Larfleeze yet his words were meant for both warring parties. "Agent Orange, the Guardians allowed you to remain out of their custody so long as you kept your activities firmly restricted to your home world. We're here because of the rumors that you are not keeping with your part of the pact."

Larfleeze's usually wide black eyes suddenly narrowed. His snout tautened before letting loose with a stringy globule of saliva that soon tainted the surface below. "The indecisive one speaks of the hairless Earthling, no doubt. Tis true that he approached me with his ambitions that would have allowed me to expand my rightful possessions. In exchange he wished for information concerning how I came to accumulate my rightful power."

"Well, I can imagine how that would interest him," Hal thought aloud. "And I'm to assume that you will say that you refused his offer? Luthor has been accumulating Karbarran manufacturing materials and you have a rather healthy stockpile."

"Which _I _collected without assistance from anyone! The materials are MINE!" The carroty-colored sheen around Larfleeze's body briefly intensified and Stephanie was once again struck by the potency of the power displayed. "The Earthling wanted to take away a destiny that belongs in my possession and thusly I refused him! And why wouldn't I? It already displeases me enough that fate forces me to share my providence with the both of you! Why throw another of you misbegotten evolutionary weeds into my growing garden?"

"You know it doesn't surprise me in the least that you would be focused on weed," Stephanie noted with a quirk of her lips. The sarcasm in her candor easily overcame Larfleeze's lack of knowledge as it came to Earthling vernacular and it earned her a sneer from the orange-tinted powerhouse. "But, presuming you _are _lucid in the present time, what is this 'sharing providence' thing you just went on about? And why are the both of us so important to you?"

Larfleeze's snout bristled and his thick lips parted in preparation for a reply but Hal beat him to the punch. "Because Agent Orange knows that our presence here means that the Guardians are quite serious about making certain that he remembers that he is being watched. And, if what he says happens to be a lie, then he should expect a larger and less peaceful array of guests the next time. Let's go, Lieutenant Brown."

Usually not one to respond well to such blunt orders, Stephanie briefly found herself stunned as her superior officer took off without another word. As one source of confusion dwindled away from sight she instinctually turned back to another as Larfleeze glared at her with a perceptive snarl. Her eyes immediately made their way to the orange ring on his right ring finger and she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck bristle as Larfleeze clenched his fist.

"I don't like sharing," Larfleeze repeated, his tone softer and more calculated the second time around. "I refused the other Earthling because he wanted what will be mine and I will deal with him should it come to that."

Stephanie heard the buzz from her communicator and chose to unequivocally ignore it. "And what about me and Hal? Are we obstacles too?"

Larfleeze offered back a slow small. "Yeeeeees. Your questions are poor in quality and you should look for something better. You know this doesn't have to do with why we may be enemies or allies. It has everything to do with the how."

* * *

_Day 1 of Investigations – Bludhaven County Clerk Office – 10:21 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Kenneth Steiff shuffled through the hallway with short and anxious steps, the heels of his black dress shoes occasionally scuffing against the cheap carpeting. Standing at barely five-and-a-half feet tall, his shaved head almost seemed to serve as a mirror for the buzzing halogen lights over his head while slight beads of sweat eked from his dark brown forehead. Having been recently elected to his post on the city council through an electoral process that was still under investigation in a state courtroom, his stressful existence seemed to warrant his muffled complaints and mutterings about being the last to leave his post as he fumbled for the keys to his office. Yanking the jingling metal piece from the pocket of his worn dress pants, he easily undid the lock and swung the door open and moved to turn out the lights until someone had been kind enough to do it before he could.

He could only assume that it was the gentleman in the blue and charcoal-black body armor that did the gentlemanly deed. The other four garishly dressed vigilantes looked to be occupied with other matters.

"Councilman Steiff, I am _so _sorry that it took this long for me to drop by and say hello," Nightwing greeted without a hint of remorse, his debonair smile proving to be just as ominous as any cold glare his adopted father could manage. "I just figured that the best way I could make it up to you was by letting you meet the whole gang here at one time."

It was a long handful of seconds before Councilman Steiff was able to remember that he had to breathe. "I. . . you. . . y-y-y-you can't be here. My office has surveillance. . ."

"That's on the fritz right now and will keep on messing up until we're done having our friendly conversation." The nervous politician wasn't sure how the startlingly attractive blonde-haired woman had managed to sneak to his right and slam the door shut without his notice but even her charming smile proved to be unnerving. "Hi, Dinah Lance. Justice League. We just wanted to know if you could tell us about your connections with Bruno Mannheim."

The significant hitch in Steiff's already erratic exhalations told the costumed investigators just as much as words. "Mannheim. . . Mannheim? I don't know any. . ."

"Honestly, one would think that a city with such an efficiently corrupt political infrastructure would be equipped with representatives who wouldn't be subject to this kind of frenetic faltering," The Riddler threw in with a scoff. He swiped his left middle finger against the politician's desk lamp and gave the dust that accumulated onto his glove a disparaging glare. "Over the course of the last nine months your campaign war chest received five separate infusions of $60,000 from a private political action group originally established by Bruno Mannheim before being passed on to a more ethically appropriate figurehead. Your funding practices may currently be considered as a legal exercise in the eyes of your ongoing judicial inquiry but the revelation of how those funds came to be accumulated will certainly raise some eyebrows and earn you a prison sentence."

The molecules of sweat that had threatened to emerge from Steiff's brow had grown into droplets that now trickled down his bald brow. "Look. . . LOOK! I took money, okay? This is Bludhaven! Everybody does! So this guy Mannheim wanted to provide contributions so long as I supported some surveying and public construction work projects. That isn't illegal!."

"No, what's illegal is what Mannheim and Intergang are actually doing with this money instead of what you say they're doing," The Huntress threw in while lifting herself up from Steiff's work desk and placing down a rather worn copy of _How to Succeed in Business _back where she had found it on the cluttered work station. "Now the question is if you're going to tell us what that actually is before or after we dangle you from the rooftop."

"Oh, don't be so histrionic, _inductee jive rot_," The Riddler implored while sidling his way past the Dark Knight of Gotham City. As he did so he deftly managed to notice Batman pulling a bladed boomerang from a pouch in his utility belt without breaking the attention of who he was speaking to. "This man obviously has not one whit of an idea as it concerns what either Mannheim or his new superior truly have in store for this city. He was offered the lure of the foundation of his professional desires and he drug his mouth across the hook with no shilly-shallying." His steps finally brought him face-to-face with the nervous elected official and the private investigator momentarily went about straightening Steiff's bustled collar. "And, if or rather when whatever sordid undertakings that Intergang is participating in is dragged into the public light, Luthor and Mannheim will have established the perfect person to take the fall."

"Just another corrupt Bludhaven politician," Nightwing added, his sharp smirk holding a hint of frustration just at the edges. "Like you said, Kenny. Those guys are a dime a dozen."

"Then why the hell are we even here?" The Black Canary threw up her hands as she asked the honest question, the martial arts expert ignoring the complete immolation of Kenneth Steiff's professional career in favor of relieving her own frustration. "If you guys already knew that this loser was a dead end then why even bother with the search?"

A distinct hum began to run through the private office that almost instantly grabbed the attentions of all inside. The Huntress reached for her crossbow while Nightwing pulled his escrima sticks free from his hip holsters. The Riddler pulled his stylish walking cane closer to his chest while The Black Canary jerked her baby blue eyes from one spot in the room to the next until she spotted the unearthly sigil coming into being at the five-foot space between the back of Steiff's chair and the rear window.

"Because the councilman isn't the only one rising to rise to the bait this night," Nigma said stiffly while providing a late response to Dinah's question. "I just wish that the lot of you would have been kind enough to leave me out of this part of it."

The first creature to rise from the eldritch symbol was a squat tank of a man whose massive limbs were bulky enough to make him nearly as wide as he was tall. His brownish-black hair was well fashioned upon his anvil-like head and complemented by a thin moustache that ran between his thick lips and a nose whose maligned structure looked as if it had been snapped and realigned on more than a few occasions. A half-dozen women materialized behind him and each of them were equipped with the physical perfection and mystic weaponry that had come to be salient symbols of the Amazons of Themyscira.

"Mannheim," Batman said in a growling greeting.

"Batman," Mannheim replied in return, his own tone a few shades warmer but still possessing the same violent intentions as The Caped Crusader. "I expected Huntress and even Nightwing but the canary and the fool are an unexpected surprise. Just as well considering that I had been planning on dealing with them in time."

Nightwing narrowed his eyes as the Sicilian-born former crime boss clapped his beefy hands together. The former Robin tightened the grip on the short stave in his right hand until he could feel the grooves within the metal dig into his sturdy gloves. "Been a long time, hefty guy. About a year or two since the last time we danced? Nice to see you went from being Darkseid's lapdog to Luthor's puppet."

Bruno Mannheim didn't seem to feel any need to be groused by the potentially unpleasant insinuation. "You were fighting alongside The Black Dog during our initial approach into Gotham, Nightwing. Is your dilemma of hopping from one provider to the next truly any different than mine? Besides, if your goal was to shame me into not recognizing the virtues of forces greater than our own then you're barking up the wrong tree. I have my grand ambitions for a destiny greater than what your God designed for me but I'm not foolish enough to believe that we can only be our own master for everything. I once believed that an allegiance to Darkseid, the chance to serve as an emissary of Apokolips, was what would allow me to achieve my goals but now I see that those misspent years only blinded me from what humanity was capable of achieving."

"Big deal. So now you just fly the banner of Intergang for Luthor," The Huntress spat back, her already low tolerance for self-important mob bosses only fueling her ire. "Now tell us what you're doing in Bludhaven or watch your own little marionette become a pincushion."

Mannheim let out a bark of a laugh as he took a moment to glance back at his powerful company. "I'd be grateful for the favor if you did away with Mister Steiff for me. After all, a corpse and a confessor can both find equal time on the ten o'clock news." The blunt declaration prompted the aforementioned councilman to let out a hitched and panicked breath which the former gangster calmly ignored. "You know, I just realized what a relief it was to change my allegiances. . . if only for the increased quality of my company."

The indirect command brought forth a wave of sound as Circe's Amazons charged forward to wage war. In five seconds The Black Canary had been knocked unconscious when she foolishly attempted to protect Steiff from an attempt on his life. The councilman would meet his untimely end three seconds later as the second attempt resulted in a hastily broken neck and a strangled scream cut short by the blood that had spurted from his cracked trachea. And, as the battle waged on for a minute more as The Riddler was left to panic in one corner of the room while leaving the other three vigilantes to fight a battle where they were hopelessly outgunned and outnumbered, Mannheim finally felt a whisper of regret that brought a crimson undertone to his usually muddy hazel eyes.

He had been hoping for a challenge that would test his mettle.

_London – Aensland Manor – 3:21 A.M. Greenwich Mean Time_

Morrigan's conference chamber was as opulent as the rest of the mansion. Its entranceway was preceded by two chimera statues both standing nearly two meters high and forged entirely of solid gold. The conference table that dominated the center of the room had been hewn from the rarest mahogany lumber to be found in the Brazilian rainforests and was covered with a crimson shroud sown from the finest silk weavers along the Huang He. The ceiling sported a quartet of chandeliers cut and fashioned by a family of Viennese crafters who had passed down their expertise throughout ten generations. Twinkling and sparkling from the illumination cast by their neighbors, the gorgeous arrangements were all arranged as points of a rectangular perimeter within the room itself to allow the low, unwavering lights to keep the space feeling soft and subtle but still providing enough to overcome the complete lack of windows or potential source points for sunlight.

"Old habits die hard, I'm afraid," Morrigan explained while sauntering her way towards the head of the table. "Not to mention I always get a hint of a chuckle whenever somebody just files me away as another stereotypical vampire that sleeps in their coffin while petrified of the sun."

"But. . . but I didn't think that you were," Eddie Bloomberg stammered back, the half-demon quickly drawing the perturbed looks of his comrades. "I just. . . I noticed the whole 'no windows' thing and I just. . . Wait. Did I even say any of this before she said it?"

Jason Blood provided a frown and a sigh to serve as a rival to Morrigan's smirk and snigger. "Stop playing with the boy, Morrigan. We are here on business."

"Oh, but someone must make up for all your seriousness!" the succubus explained with a dramatic huff while flouncing herself onto a cushy chair. "Honestly, over a thousand years to live it up and ye leave it up to the vengeance demon to have all the fun in your place."

"Well, we all have our own ways of keeping our eye on the ball," The Black Dog noted while taking his own seat. "Staying true to oneself and maintaining one's virtue and so on and so forth."

"Indeed," Morrigan clapped her hands quickly and leaned forward in her chair until a more than fair amount of her impressive chest was available to peruse. "Mister Harper, as an esteemed and honored member of Earth's supernatural community I would like to thank you for yuir part as it comes to the liberation of Karbarra from The Sinestro Corps and the retrieval of The Bane of Velius from Neron's clutches. I have arranged some decidedly unwholesome and fitting company, free of charge, should you wish to indulge in what my manor has to offer."

Jason Blood let out an aggrieved sigh. Eddie let out a high-pitched _meep_. Lloyd raised his eyebrows and turned to see how his most frequent patrol partner would choose to respond.

"You're telling me that you managed to get what my mind is ordering up here?"

Morrigan shot back an alluring smile. "Ready, willing and waiting in the fifth room to the left."

It only took a second for Roy to rise back from his chair. "Sweet! All right, let me know how all this goes, boss!" the sharpshooter shouted while striding briskly towards his destination. The Black Dog watched his friend for a moment and briefly wondered if he should have shouted back a word of warning but found himself quite confident that Arsenal would exercise just enough caution.

Besides, he had never been too privy to throwing cautionary statements to a gentleman's back. Still, in the time it took for Lloyd to work out his decision he had been blinded to his surroundings long enough to miss that Morrigan had already turned her alluring attentions to another target.

"You've left behind a lady that's come to mean a great deal to ya. Isn't that right, Eddie?" asked the succubus, her Celtic drawl growing more pronounced as she drew the half-demon's heart in ever so close. "Still, a wild woman can be awfully stressful on a troubled mind. Perhaps a tumble with one of my empaths would make ye a little more relaxed?"

Lloyd wasn't certain if it was possible that the coagulation of a human and a Scarlet Regid could turn pallid but Kid Devil certainly seemed to be giving his best unconscious efforts to try. The smirking Brit continued to look on as the Teen Titan tried to lean back in his chair to demonstrate his unperturbed decorum. The poker face of The Misfits' second-in-command was ultimately broken as Eddie's nervousness ultimately led him to push too hard and send his seat tumbling down with him along with it.

"I'll. . . I'll be at the party," The Black Dog heard Eddie say rapidly while he half sprinted from the room, the panicked sight prompting Morrigan to savor her accomplishments by stretching her slender arms above her head before coming to rest her hands back on her shapely hips.

"Oh my. The first shot has not yet been fired and still I've done away with half your company. Typical British military triumph, wouldn't ya say?"

"You'll do well to heed my caution that no harm should come to either of those gentlemen," Jason Blood coolly warned, the centuries old warlock remaining pointedly undeterred by Lady Aensland's impressive manipulations. "Now you claim to have owed Mister Harper a favor in his efforts to usurp Neron's recent activities and, with that in mind, the both of us will reclaim our own rewards by learning what you know of the demon that inhabited Vincent Culp."

Morrigan calmly turned away from Jason's glare and briefly shifted her gaze to an equally determined Lloyd. If one were paying intimate attention to the glimmer in her emerald eyes one may have noticed a hint of sympathy briefly flirting about her otherwise relaxed air. "'M startin' to think the starch in your suit is cutting off the flow of blood to yuir noggin, Blood. All these ten-pound words when just a simple 'please' might suffice."

"His method might be a titch pedantic but the intentions ring true," Lloyd countered, the youngest member of the trio by ten centuries suddenly adopting the role as the voice of reason. "Lex Luthor and Sabbac went to great lengths to steal the _Kikuichi-monji_. Now Luthor is hardly at a lack when it comes to supernatural weaponry so, despite what Athena may have said, the only possible reason for these efforts is that they want to invoke some kind of connection between the blade and Vincent's demon. Now, given that the world is on the line, we thought you might be interested in telling us just what might be in store."

The green-haired immortal briefly flirted with a touch of venom in the charming snarl of her lips. "I owe ya nothin', Condemner's Scion. Many a time I've offered to let you unburden yourself at the pleasure of my attentions and you brush me off and say yuir above such things. Now you come to me and expect me to share what's mine?"

"Well, then let's not forget that I still have something you would like for me to put on the table. . ." Lloyd replied, his eyebrows curved slightly and his lips tilted in a languid smile. ". . . or your bedchamber or the floor here or even the roof of your manor if you're feeling a mite frisky." The gamble coaxed a gasp of disbelief that Morrigan quickly shifted into a purr of laughter and a smile that showed a whisper of her perfect white teeth.

"What a cruel little liar you are, Mister Thomas," the succubus observed without a hint of hurt or malice, her torso briefly rising as she moved to cross her legs underneath the table. "Very well, I'll play yuir game. I've heard the tale of you travelin' to the isle of the Amazons so we can skip the part about what you may have had to say with the virgin goddess and go straight to the good stuff. The story begins with a being that much of humanity would be comfortable with calling an angel. For eons this creature is taught to observe and learn from not just the demons that roamed and ruled the earth but also the divine creatures on high that were chosen to keep all sides in check. Over time his philosophical sculptors made certain that their creation took heed of the truth that there were flaws in all God's creatures be they of forked tails or feathery wings. Then, when the time came an' his training was over, Gignuginnap was ordained with the task to assign punishment to The Angelus Errare, the angels who lost their way."

Lloyd briefly ran the tip of his tongue against his teeth, a common reaction of his when he received some information he needed some time to mull over. "Well, at least I have a name now. But see? This is the third time that I've heard that Lugae allowed Vincent to be possessed by an angelic entity! Lugae was an expert in demonic physiology? If he wanted his study to bear fruit then he would have stuck with something he knew about! Not the polar bloody opposite!"

"And why would those that were responsible for overseeing this creature's duties allow it to remain in a position to be captured and corrupted by humans?"

Morrigan first rolled her eyes at Lloyd before shooting an annoyed glare at Jason. "Good heavens, the both of you! Have ye blinded yourself so fervently with your noble deeds that you can only see in black and white? You, Lloyd, who has served as the host of Za'hafal-nesh and been favored by no less than The Demon King himself! Can you not accept the simple truth that demons can be virtuous? And if these sinful creatures can demonstrate morality then would it not be true that the divine could be depraved?"

Lost for words, Lloyd briefly turned to seek silent counsel from his elder half-demon only to discover that Etrigan's host was merely firing a pensive look directed towards an uninhabited corner of the room. Left unmoored, The Black Dog let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair and moved to pull more of his chips into the pile.

"So I'll play detective here. Gignuginnap spends some amount of time delivering justice at the behest of his superiors. Could have been a year, could have been a thousand but it hardly makes a difference. What matters is that he realizes that who he serves may be no better than the souls he's sent to bring in. Then, maybe borrowing from The Demon King's example, the overseers of the world decide to nip their project in the bud and cast their angel down from the heavens to remain imprisoned on the world that he was supposed to protect. Then, whatever odd number of millennia later, Lugae manages to unearth the thing and somehow give the power to Vincent."

The twinkle that once briefly teased about in Morrigan's eyes returned with a broader exhibition as the succubus offered the young half-demon a prim round of applause. "Bet ya didn't even need to consult Za'hafal-nesh for that, did you? Since you've managed to start piecing together the story of Gignuginnap then I'll be happy to go into greater detail if you manage to survive the ambush."

"I beg your pardon?" Jason asked suddenly even while Lloyd felt an icy spike flow through his blood. Noting The Black Dog's reaction to his premonition more than the request for clarification, Morrigan presented her guests with the slow smile that had doomed the fate of countless thousands over her grand existence.

"Oh, yes. Ya see, I've been consorting with your mutual foe Ishmael Gregor for the past several months. Did I fail to mention that?" Dashes of crimson and black now ran through her once perfect eyes as more and more hints of Morrigan's true form began to slip from the surface, a clear sign that she enjoyed the stolen emotions she had gathered from Jason and Lloyd's alarm. "Imagine that. You claim that you wouldn't be but yet it turns out that you're the morning's entertainment after all."

* * *

_Day 2 of Investigations – San Francisco – 11:58 A.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Kara was momentarily startled how the years since her arrival on Earth had changed the way that scenes like this appeared to her. The lost refugee from Krypton who giddily allowed herself to be guided around downtown Metropolis by her cousin and had been fascinated by everything from 220 story buildings to hot dog stands would have just taken the outdoor garden and greeting center outside of the headquarters of Megadyne Industries as just another picturesque exemplar of 21st century Terran corporate architecture. But now, after dozens of hours in training within everything from The Batcave to the manor above the catacombs to the Otisburg business district in downtown Gotham or nearly a half dozen other metropolitan havens, the former Supergirl had come to learn how to find the little details that could spell success or failure on a potential battlefield.

It started with the simple persuasive aesthetics; the fact that the well-manicured topiaries and artificially babbling brooks were designed to present the building behind them as a haven from the metal and mortar of a potentially stifling commercial landscape. After all, how bad could a former subsidiary of the nasty Lexcorp be if they were allowing children to play about their front door? Then came the simple realization that the square was placed on the eastward entrance that faced Mission Dolores Parkrather than the towering apartments to the west or the neighboring office buildings to the north and south. The deliberate placement was punctuated by two enormous rotating silver globes bordering the entrance, the structures each nearly 15 feet high and 8 feet wide. It all served to gobble up every bit of attention, provide every hope of what the future could have in store while sparing none of those potential blessings in return.

"There's not a single good sight line thanks to the statues blocking the podium. The only way a sniper would get to anybody giving a speech up there would be by putting themselves right out into the open."

_That too, _Kara mused to herself. Then, reminding herself that she hadn't been the only starry-eyed soul to be tutored about these things by The Batman, she turned to face the black-haired gentleman to her right. "Are you always thinking about these kinds of things, Timothy?"

Tim Drake, clad as he was in a ragged pair of blue jeans and an aged Jerry Rice football jersey, was making no effort to inform the gathering crowd that they had been joined by perhaps the greatest detective of his generation. "Luthor-model buildings have always fallen under the same setting. They have enough height to just barely reach over the surrounding buildings and there's always a portion of the near exterior that would look open but is far and away the most guarded spot in the complex. By doing that it's like he's extending his hands outward just so he can clap them shut when he wants to."

Noting the thoughtful silence of his company, the former Gotham-based Robin and the current field commander of The Teen Titans turned to examine Kara and gave her a crooked smile. "And, yeah, I do always think like this. You've spent four years working with him and you're telling me you _don't_?"

The shrewd but toothy grin Kara offered back provided at least a hundred words. With whatever ice that could have been between them now broken and gone, it was fairly likely that the both of them would have shared some insightful chatter before the event began but they found their prospective plans interrupted by a beagle that was purposefully trotting its way towards them. The canine soon came close enough so that his tiny tail could whap against Kara's right shin and, standing as they were underneath the shadows of a healthy elm tree, it would have taken a bit more than a look to realize that the dog was covered in olive green fur.

"Well, I see _you're _maintaining your usual low profile," Tim said chidingly to his affectionate comrade. "Garfield, what have I been telling you about making certain that you don't make a scene?"

The beagle, which was obviously an achingly thin cover for Garfield Logan, the team's resident animorph and shape shifter, responded by acquiescing to Kara as she nudged him away with her sneaker clad right foot. Taking a moment to sit on the grass as a properly trained dog would tend to do, Beast Boy followed that by dashing off into a pile of nearby leaves and diving inside. Scattering the brown and orange foliage aside with his pounce, the former Doom Patrol junior member gaily made a show of himself as he rolled about in his wreckage with his tongue lolling out from the right side of his snout. This went on long enough for Kara to feel the stifled laughter rumbling up from her lungs and for Tim to complete his sigh of annoyance before Garfield looked to be suddenly struck by a shock collar. Rolling back to his feet, Beast Boy remained perfectly still for a handful of seconds before shamefully walking to the base of the tree and lying down.

"All hail Raven's telepathic disciplinary system," Tim declared with his tongue poking against the right side of his cheek. Centering his countenance, the 20-year-old master detective reacted to the sound of footsteps muffled by the grass and turned to meet their source. "I take it everything went well with the conference organizers?"

Cassandra Sandsmark, the only member of The Teen Titans currently dressed in her usual superhero garb, responded with a nod while coming to a stop. "Apparently their spokesman is going to bring me right onto the stage after making the introductions so I better get back." The adopted Amazon looked a bit uncomfortable as she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back behind her right ear. "I think I'd be just about as comfortable with cutting the ribbon for a book-burning factory," she glumly admitted as the sun caught the peerless silver of her star-spangled bangle wrapped around her right wrist.

"You know it's just a part of the game, Cass," Tim said softly and with a hint of sympathy for his longtime friend. Applause rang out from the throng in front of them and that quickly coerced the investigator to examine the figures approaching the dais. "Hmmmmm, looks like they're sending 'Squealer' up to the plate."

"Squealer?" asked Kara. Then, noticing Tim's critical glare she added, "Well, forgive me for not being informed about the unflattering nicknames of corporate bigwigs."

"That's Clancy Spacey," Tim explained with a nod to the somewhat portly but smartly dressed middle-aged white male making his way to the speaking stand. "He's one of the few guys on the Lexcorp board of directors that wasn't sent to prison after the federal investigation and Talia's Al-Ghul's liquidation of much of their assets. He was also the public face behind drumming up public support for Lex's campaign to buy up properties in Gotham during the No Man's Land initiative. He'd make the nice speeches to whatever crowds they could gather. . ."

"And keep them from noticing that his boss was attempting to engage in illegal property seizure." Kara recognized while turning her own attentions to the stage. She crinkled her brow while examining the balding gentleman in the $1,000 Oxford suit as he briefly dabbed away some sweat that had gathered on his brow. There were chinks of nervousness in his composure from some quick clearings of the throat to some hasty shuffling of note cards but a simple listen to Spacey's stable heart beat informed her that it was all a show.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to speak with you here today on the dawn of greater safety and security," Clancy began, his candor crisp and clean even as he continued through the motions of a nervous man that looked surprised that he had been asked to stand before the crowd of nearly 100. "Megadyne Industries, drawing upon the limitless potential of determination and ingenuity, are proud to announce a revolutionary change to a plague that has not only struck our city but throughout the world; through even the glorious civilizations in the stars that we have come to be greeted by as we launch ourselves deeper into the 21st century!"

The loquacious front man, now completely free of any stutters or quivers, extended his arms wide enough to present his palms to his audience. The smoothly drawn silence allowed the initial doubt to slither away from those that may have been reluctant and just offer a sliver of space for the possibility. Kara could almost see the man hopping back and forth from foot to foot preaching that it was Superman that had been responsible for the destruction of the windmill. All that was missing were the angry dogs to tear out the throats of those that may eventually disagree.

"Today we reveal the first step in the control of superhuman-related violence, destruction and crime. At last we will begin a critical strike towards eliminating the chaos brought forth from monstrosities such as Trigon and The Sinestro Corps and make our claim that humanity will be responsible for its own protection. However, before we begin, we would first like to proudly introduce a sterling example of metahuman service. Her courage and determination provided all of us with inspiration to begin to shoulder the burden that she, among many others, were unfairly asked to burden. San Francisco's own Wonder Girl, ladies and gentleman!"

The dozens of citizens offered up some enthusiastic applause to what could have been the city's most favored superhero as Cassandra gracefully made her way onto the stage. Some of the members of the press corps even offered some polite praise but most of them, just like Kara and Timothy, were more interested in seeing the next step of the game. As for Clancy Stacey, he easily wrapped Wonder Girl up in a one-armed hug as he moved to share the dais with the slightly flustered heroine.

"Now let me say once again that what we reveal today is not meant to criticize the noble efforts of people like Wonder Girl and her comrades. For nearly a decade we have been proud to provide a home for The Teen Titans and now we will truly begin to repay them for their generosity."

The speaker gestured to the sky with his free hand and soon others were coerced into looking up with him at the city's bright horizon. Those who had no interest in such grandiose shepherding then found themselves convinced to join them as a rush of wind whistled through the square causing gasps of shock to filter through the crowd. The flurry died down almost as soon as it began as the source of it came to a stop nearly at Cassandra's feet. Kara clenched her teeth as she watched Cassandra's face twist and turn with fear, shock and damning hope only to turn and see Timothy in much the same distress.

And who could blame them? It wasn't every day that a fallen friend or a lost love just soared down from the sky.

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Soup.

* * *

_Issue #148 Preview_

Well, it would appear that Lex Luthor and his amazing friends may want to have another scrimmage before the game begins in full. Of course, with Batman and his comrades already on the verge of being slaughtered and Lloyd's team separated and trapped in an ambush it looks like that something more may be needed than just grace and charm. Perhaps the sudden return of Connor Kent help turn the tide in the favor of our heroes? Find out this and more in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Snakes in the Affluence. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


	148. Old Hands on Deck

Issue #148

Old Hands on Deck

_Aensland Manor – 3:47 A.M. Greenwich Mean Time_

Lloyd wasted no time or artistry as he delivered a pump kick that sent a Fyarl demon soaring into and through the foundation of a brick-walled fireplace that bordered Morrigan's chamber and the hallway outside. The trembling impact brought a stir of gasps and cheers from those still populating the balconies above but The Black Dog made certain not to linger long upon the crowd that the illusory succubus had coerced him into entertaining. The manor had been structured so that all the rooms were situated along the outside perimeter while the expansive core of the three-story structure remained free of ceilings and other impediments so that anyone hanging about the interior lanais could see nearly everything taking place on the floors below. It was the sign of a neo-Victorian architectural style that sought to demonstrate openness and an opportunity to observe the lavish goings on while providing solitude for those who didn't wish to put themselves on full display. Needless to say, it was quite a fit for a profoundly old demon who took no shame in flaunting her power, riches, and connections and how she came to acquire them.

Not that the young half-demon had a great deal of time to wax poetically on psychology as a trio of lion-like warriors awaited him as he emerged from the gaping hole in the wall created by his last unsuccessful opponent. Each of them were at least a foot taller than Lloyd's two meter high frame, sported plate mail armor with the emblem of a warrior race long rendered extinct and they all held swords and hatchets in their menacing mitts. It was clear that the group had at least some experience with working as a team given their successful attempts to avoid getting in the way of another's attacks but Lloyd had far greater power and experience to draw form.

Leaving his gleaming silver saber resting within the scabbard strapped to his back, The Black Dog slid around a trio of downward swipes before sending one of his opponents skittering across the profligate battleground with a simple pulse blast from his right hand. The forceful impact also sent the warrior that was to the right of the victim into a stumble leaving Lloyd to casually intercept the charge of the third with a Shotokan-style sweep kick before rising to his full height in an instant and delivering an axe kick with the same foot. The strike was solid enough to leave a heel-sized hole in the archaic symbol and the portion of the chest behind it as the regal looking monster let out a howl of agony. The quick loss of his comrades was enough to bring the last remaining foe into a rage that Lloyd easily interrupted with a short but forceful uppercut imbued with enough of The Black Dog's assembled telekinesis to send the brawny armored warrior soaring through the roof above like a rocket.

Lloyd tried not to take too much from the applause that followed. He may have appreciated, well, the appreciation but there was the matter of professional integrity.

Identifying his next objective in an instant, the half-demon turned northeast toward an expansive day room to find Ishmael Gregor awaiting him. Looking just as menacing as he had been just several weeks ago when he had successful stolen the _Kikuichi-monji_, the greater demon more commonly known as Sabbac bore the confidence of his previous victory with a knowing smirk.

"Found a way to get back into those high-ruble suits you're so fond of, I see," Lloyd offered in a mocking greeting as he noted the sleek, black double-breasted suit that had been tailored to fit around Gregor's muscular and towering frame. "Gregor, I've come here on behalf of the demihuman community to tell you that you're becoming a bit of an embarrassment with all these continued failures. Some are even beginning to call you the Wile E. Coyote of hell beasts."

Gregor's smooth exhale stretched out the white Oxford tweed shirt that clashed against his reddish-pink skin. "Then perhaps they haven't been paying attention to more recent events," he then countered with his slightly coarse but quite coherent West Russian burr. "I just recently won control over a powerful supernatural blade from no less than the greatest Amazonian warrior of her time while making you look like an absolute fool." Pulling free a blade from a snakeskin scabbard that looked quite similar to the one at Lloyd's back, Sabbac briefly twirled about the 50-pound Mahkesh broad sword in his right hand as if it were a toy. "However, I can't help but find that the exploit that I'm most proud of is when I incinerated that little Green Lantern like a sow on the spit right in front of her mentor. I would guess that you would have liked to have seen that first-hand, da?"

The Black Dog looked straight back at the victorious gleam in Sabbac's tawny eyes before firing back with a snarl. "Stephanie's alive and well. So is Wonder Woman. I would credit you for returning to the living but is it too early to congratulate you seeing as how you're seemingly at the beck and call of your sugar mamma?"

There was a splinter of righteous anger that managed to push through Sabbac's otherwise solid stare and Lloyd regarded it with a sneer of his own. "Don't fall into jealousy simply because I had the good sense to accept an offer that you foolishly declined," the former mob boss replied, his beefy hands glimmering with the sparks of hellfire burgeoning from his palms.

"Morrigan doesn't give _offers_, mate. What you are to her is a toy; the latest one out of a cast of thousands."

"Now, now. That's enough chattin' from the both of you," Morrigan cut in, her shout of an order heard clearly from her vantage point at the center of the largest balcony along the second floor. "Distinguished guests, please remember that wagers will still be accepted so long as no drop of blood has been spilled!"

Lady Aensland's kindly reminder was almost instantly rendered moot as Sabbac rushed forward in a flash and landed a sturdy haymaker across Lloyd's jaw. The impact of bone on flesh produced a kinetic convulsion that knocked over a nearby ottoman and Lloyd let out a curse after expecting to deal with the demon's blade and thus misjudging the first step of the dance. Swallowing the dollop of blood along his cracked lower lip, The Black Dog let out a curse while drawing the _Mugalshir _from its casing. The swordplay to follow was as fast and focused as one would expect from two warriors with millennia worth of knowledge to draw from. That expertise forced both parties to play along with the strengths and limitations of their respective weaponry as Lloyd sought to keep close with a series of horizontal blocks and lashes while the larger demon attempted to force back his more maneuverable adversary with the frightening power of his slashes. The winner of the exchange ultimately boiled to a case in superior weaponry as the dozens of blocked strikes ultimately wore down Sabbac's Mahkesh-made blade until the greater demon was forced to abandon his nearly broken blade with a roar and a gout of hellfire from his maw.

Lloyd's third mistake in as many minutes came as he teleported to Sabbac's back in response. Letting loose a flare-like blast that sent a chorus of shouts and screams from those in the balconies above, The Black Dog swerved to his right in order to begin the same vicious series of strikes that had allowed him to tear Sabbac limb from limb in their first battle over three years ago. But, as Sabbac himself claimed, Lloyd's target had grown far savvier in the months after his dark revival. The roundhouse kick that served as Sabbac's counter connected soundly with Lloyd's wrist and the Brit could feel the bones in his wrists straining from the force even as his saber was thrown from his grip.

The Black Dog immediately felt the crackle of unholy energy spinning around him as Sabbac lunged for his throat. He managed to catch the half-demon's trunk-like wrists when Gregor's massive hands were only inches away from their target but the Brit found himself encumbered to keep his opponent from creeping forward. Caught in a test of strength that no one outside of Hulk Hogan would be foolish enough to engage in, the young commander managed to turn away before he caught a mouthful of hellfire and instead suffered from a firm kick to the gut that sent him stumbling back. Instinctually bending low to prepare for the attack to come, Lloyd found himself caught unawares once again as he noticed Gregor dashing to retrieve the _Mugalshir_. A somewhat desperate telekinetic retrieve quickly hustled to the front of his forebrain but the race was interrupted as a golden force bullet crashed into Sabbac's own belly and sent the hulking warrior soaring through the wall and back into the chamber where Lloyd had last emerged.

"Well, isn't that a bout of unsportsmanlike conduct," Morrigan announced from her ascended sanctuary. "Ya know we were conductin' some friendly wagers there."

Jason Blood fired an enormous pulse of energy that effortlessly scattered against the force barrier above. The members of the audience that were less inclined as it came to the supernatural screamed, ran for cover and asked for refunds but the warlock made certain to keep his attentions on the smirking succubus.

"Come now, Lady Aensland. You're the one who maintained that I did not know how to have a good time."

* * *

_Day 1 of Investigations – Bludhaven County Clerk Office – 10:32 P.M. Eastern Standard Time_

Over twenty years of combat experience had given Nightwing the ability to evaluate violent situations and categorize them into a variety of classes designated by the likelihood that he would emerge safe without any significant worry. The lowest rung on the danger ladder, the kinds of situations he often found while patrolling Bludhaven alone or working the Gotham route with one of his more powerful adopted siblings, usually gave him the opportunity to embrace his inner showman and try out new tactics and maneuvers to see how they would fly in a grander and more stressful setting. The middle rung, usually found on missions with The Misfits or The Justice League, are the types that allowed him to gain the vast majority of his major scars and other impressive looking injuries as he was forced to combine his blood and sweat with the knowledge taught to him by Batman and other people that mentored him along the way.

As for this situation? Outnumbered and surrounded by fighters that could easily rip his heart out and feed it to him? This fell squarely upon the top rung of the ladder where his primary goals were to try and figure out how fucked he truly is while waiting and hoping for the timely rescues of others who were more physically inclined to handle these kinds of mighty affairs. The cavalcade of Themysciran warriors was bad enough but the addition of whatever Mannheim could offer and the bonus of having to defend the unconscious Black Canary quickly ratcheted the whole thing up to a matter where he wasn't even feeling jazzed enough to fire out a quip.

"Black Canary's stirring! Stave them away until we can determine what we have to work with!"

Nightwing heard the whizz of a crossbow bolt being fired from Huntress's wrist holster as he allowed his former love interest to shout out the obvious observation in his stead.

"You know, I hate to point this out but we're having enough trouble defending ourselves!"

Encumbered as he with employing his escrima sticks to lash back at any target that might slow down the determined offense of his sturdy foes, Bludhaven's resident vigilante could only hear Huntress's candid declaration while sparing barely an ear to the exclamation of his father's patrol partner.

"And, no, I'm not saying that I'm incapable of doing this! I'm just pointing out the degree of difEEE. . ."

Sparing a corner of his left eye in response to the cut off explanation, Nightwing looked on as Helena stumbled backwards while clutching her gut. The lack of red fluid trickling onto her violet gauntlets told Batman's former ward that Huntress had just been caught with a fist or a foot and not the dangerously sharp weaponry of the Amazons. The acrobat didn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief as Batman's quick use of a flurry of electric Batarangs kept Circe's warrior women away as The Huntress rolled back to her feet and let loose another pair of crossbow bolts from her wrist holsters. The shrill grunt from his left told Nightwing that at least one of Helena's shots found her target, a blessing given their disadvantage, but the domino-masked crime fighter knew that was a drop of rain the desert. Their opponents weren't getting any slower, they were still far stronger, and he and his comrades were racking up wounds in a hurry.

_And the building is shaking,_ Nightwing suddenly noted, his ears having been so focused on helping him stay aware and alive that he didn't really detect the rumblings until it sounded as if the building was about to fall around their ears. _No. That's not shaking. That's crashing. Why would there be crashing?_

Nightwing bent in his arms at his elbows in preparation of conducting a Mantis-style defensive designed to maximize the defensive properties of the short metal staves that had long proved to be his preferred weapon of choice. He knew he couldn't match the speed and strength of his predators but he could still read their movements and respond in kind. Keeping the escrima sticks running parallel to his body, he ensnared the short sword of one of his opponents before it could plunge into his heart. A tilt to the right and a quick kick to the wrist forced the Amazon to drop her weapon and stumble into the path of her partner and leaving him with a fraction of breathing room. Pleased with his minor success but realizing that there was a long way to go, Nightwing was quickly rifling through his options until the wall to his left was broken through as if it had been hit by a missile.

The missile, as fortune would have it, was doubtlessly the same source of the voluminous collisions that rang through Nightwing's ears just a handful of seconds before. The figure even had some missile like qualities from his rotund center of mass to his comparatively tiny, obscenely round and otherwise misshapen cranium (although Dick was certain that no missile in history had ever been topped at the tip by a messy, spiky thatch of blonde hair). He also drew the kind of attention from his targets that warranted a potentially destructive creation as Mannheim bellowed at his troops to charge the new arrival en masse. The first to arrive at their destination, the same Amazon that had been shot through the eye by The Huntress, was rewarded for her expediency with a quick and easy death as the warrior slammed the blade of his hatchet down on her skull with such strength that he split the mystic metal of her helmet like butter before digging almost cleanly through the skull. Needing to rid his weapon of choice from the sudden addition, the destructive warrior flung the trapped corpse against two of her former comrades before forcing aside the fourth fighter with a shove of his hatchet's long pommel. The fifth was floored with a ferocious head butt while Lucky Amazon No. 6 had the unpleasant fortune of having her two-handed slash cut short as she was cut cleanly in two through her hip.

Once again it was The Batman that managed to find words despite the shock of the scenery.

"Thornton! Focus your attention. . ."

Nigel Thornton, having already had to go through the trouble of escorting his former student to Aensland Manor, looked to be in no mood to sit around and wait for marching orders.

"No need, boss. Kin smell the mojo off the pastrami smellin' bastard from a farthing away."

Displaying more of his deceptive agility, the plump axe-wielder bounded over the table with his stubby legs and his hatchet readied to be buried into Mannheim's neck. The Brit was met with a wave of crimson energy that poured from Mannheim's gullet and the caustic supernatural force was quick to burn through the clumps of fat and sinew that surrounded his radii and ulnas. Nigel threw up his forearms to keep the blast from melting into his vitals and continued to push through the force being thrown at him with alarming gusto. Perhaps Mannheim's attack may have been enough to burn through all of the British barbarian if the fiery spatter had more time to take effect but the Intergang leader soon had to keep from losing his head as he turned away to avoid the double-handed slash that was powered by the axe man's regenerating arm muscles. The best option Mannheim had was to lean forward and endure Nigel's beefy fists glancing stiffly against the side of his head as the blade of his hatchet harmlessly sliced through the open air between his head and the wall behind him. The accidental contact still rang through the tiny work quarters like a sledgehammer against the cement and soon the two heavyweights were bulling their way into close combat that ultimately sent the both of them through the western wall with another mighty _CRASH_!.

_Yet again the spotlight is so unfairly taken away from me, _Nightwing thought with a sardonic glint to his thoughts as he continued to wage war with one of the three remaining Amazons that were still up for a fight. The reduced numbers went a long way to eliminating the Themyscirans' advantage in terms of physical prowess and Dick put his superior skill to work as he swerved around the charge of his opponent and slammed the staff in his right hand against the back of the woman's neck. Her sturdy helm doubtlessly cut down on the potential damage but the jolt to the cerebral cortex was enough to stun his quarry so that Nightwing could follow up with an extended chain of strikes to the few vulnerable spots not covered by mystic armor. Three quick drumming strikes against the back of her right knee to keep her from scrambling for better ground. Alternating clouts from the spare spots in her plate armor along her abdomen, hip, and torso to limit her breathing and separate her defenses. It all ended in a fearsome smack of both staves against the bridge of the Amazon's nose that sent her backpedaling and in position for a spinning roundhouse kick that sent his stronger but unconscious opponent spinning like a top into a stocked bookcase that bordered the door.

His primary duty done, Nightwing naturally turned his attentions to what he thought to be the weakest spot of their defenses (although he would never dare to tell that to Helena personally). It turned out that he would have been doubly damned if he had voiced that opinion for The Huntress had somehow managed to acquire the long spear of her opponent. A battle cry and a charge emboldened the part-time English teacher as she plunged the razor sharp edge of the pike through the jaw of her downed opponent at an angle that allowed her to punch through the uppermost ridge of the Amazon's throat for a messy but effective victory. Convinced that his father's patrol partner had her matters well in hand, Nightwing looked behind him to find his adopted guardian was sporting a nasty gash across his chest while being forced against the wall by his opponent who was obviously on the verge of finishing the job.

Huntress and Nightwing's joint cries of "BATMAN!" were easily drowned out by the recognizable _KREEEEEEEEE _of Black Canary's sonic cry. Forced to clamp his hands down firmly against his ears, Nightwing could only look on as the jarring noise brought the lone remaining Amazon into a pained paroxysm as the high-pitched vibrations crashed against her eardrums. Apparently more used to the unique excruciation that those around him, Batman managed to summon the fortitude to bring the ring and index fingers of his right hand to a point and stabbed them against an exposed portion of the Amazon's neck. The nerve strike produced an almost instantaneous stalling of the flow of blood to the warrior woman's carotid arteries causing her to fall like a stone, her unconscious body still twitching from the neural backlash of Black Canary's sonic assault.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell happened, Bats?" Nightwing asked, the dulling ringing in his ears coercing him into asking his question a little louder than he should have.

"Never mind that. We have to check and help the fat guy with Mannheim!" Black Canary shouted back. The martial artist had an ugly, purplish-red blotch on the right side of her forehead but she seemed more than all right with playing through the pain. Nightwing wagered that the quick snap back to consciousness was a strong clue that his comrade in the Justice League was suffering from a concussion and the fact that she was still pushing on earned her yet another ounce of respect from Batman's former ward.

Of course, Dick also realized that Dinah was largely guessing as to how much "trouble" Nigel Thornton could get out of on his own. Dashing along the hallway with his beaten-up comrades, Nightwing was completely unsurprised to see the fat barkeep standing tall (or at least as tall as a five-foot, 350-pound man could stand) amidst the last bits of wreckage along the path. The bodyguard of the late Mao Tenryu sported a wide variety of burns along his arms and bare torso and his brown moleskin vest was sporting ashen marks throughout its hideous perimeter but the warrior with the ridiculously spiky blonde hair was treating the seemingly grave injuries like forgotten bug bites.

"Ruddy hell, that bloke sure scarpers off fast for such a wide load," observed Nigel while he used his stubby fingers to pick against a particularly revolting looking blister along the right side of his neck. Some of the flecks of black, pink, and red skin would come to fall onto his vest and the owner of The Rusty Sambo responded to the affront with a grumble.

"Bugger, it's always such a pain to regrow the skin along the jugular vein."

* * *

_Day 2 of Investigations – San Francisco – Headquarters of Megadyne Industries – 12:07 P.M. Pacific Standard Time_

Nearly three-and-a-half had passed since the remembrance of Connor Kent had all but encompassed downtown San Francisco. In those hours tens of thousands, most of whom had never met the teenaged clone of Earth's most famous hero, paid tribute to the noble sacrifice of one of their adopted heroes. Photographs of makeshift memorials and grieving citizens dominated the pages of _Time, Newsweek _and thousands of other publications big and small and the Internet was flooding with video footage and testimonials and public thanks.

With all that in mind perhaps it made sense that the expanse of time would add a potent ingredient for the present reaction as more and more of the public and press corps members registered that Superboy had apparently made his return. The supernatural phenomenon of a creature zooming in to meet them at nearly 200 miles an hour was unusual enough to startle and shock the surrounding audience but the exultation and applause was quick to follow. Disbelief and skepticism were found to be surprisingly hard to come by. After all, this was hardly the first instance of a Teen Titan, or any other critically acclaimed hero, to return from the grave. Why should this instance be any less of a surprise than Superman, The Green Lantern, or Green Arrow?

That answer, of course, could be found in the reactions of those that legitimately loved the man behind the public personas and newspaper headlines. Kara heard the sharp hitch in Tim's breathing and the jagged upward acceleration of the young detective's heartbeat. She didn't want the poor man to notice how quickly he had given his façade away and made certain to keep focus on one useless sight or another while making certain that the San Francisco-based Robin could go through it all without having to worry about her prying eyes. Besides, she didn't need to examine his deep, cobalt-tinted eyes to realize that he was warring between wanting and refusing to believe. Who could blame him? Cissie had told her of Tim's ill-fated attempts to match Lex Luthor's success in creating a half-Kryptonian clone and that kind of lunacy from an otherwise rational individual simply screamed of how much Bruce's former student had cared for Connor.

Then there was the woman on the stage whose heart seemed to lurch between breaking and putting itself back together again. Kara took close heed of Cassandra's own rabbit-like heartbeat and felt a horrific pang of sympathy for the woman who had been confronted with the possibility. The adopted Amazon was trying desperately to not give in to the truth that the strapping lad in the blue jeans and black-and-red t-shirt was not Connor Kent and Kara wasn't certain if she was succeeding. It was nothing but another copy, a mockery of what might have been and the mere thought of the same thing happening to her allowed Kara to imagine just what Wonder Girl was going through.

Step by step. Shock, wonder, reasoning, denial, hope, hope, hope. . .

"And, ladies and gentleman! Without further a due the man responsible for this revolutionary surge forward in the realm of metahuman defense! Lex Luthor!"

_Check_, Kara thought to herself as the scent of cloves and sandalwood wafting from the former president became united with the confident stride and winning smile of the murderer of millions and the savior of perhaps far more. Watching Luthor move towards Cassandra and what was supposed to pass for Superboy, the former Supergirl examined the gentleman's attire and started to piece out more of what they had just gotten themselves into. Gone was the $5,000 Oxford suit and perfectly aligned dress pants and in its place was a comparatively humble ensemble of beige slacks and a simple white button-down work shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows. In an unbearably long instant the confusion and shock that had been spawned from the previous arrival from on high jumbled with the surprise from the shadows and produced an allure that swept through the crowd like a late winter squall. Applause and cheers and excited words reared their heads where there should have been critical inquiries and damning suspicions.

Even the members of the press corps had been caught in the enchantment. Kara would have liked to condemn them for that but she was just as guilty. Even her own senses didn't piece together what should have been so blatantly obvious until it was right next to her face and the anger that always seemed to fester inside of her gut momentarily turned itself inward before she managed to let out a quiet breath. Taking a moment or two to gnash teeth or engage in some good ol' fashioned obloquy would have been the status quo but Kara quickly guessed that now wasn't the time for her to gather wool. One glance at the cold fury streaming from Tim's narrowed eyes and the somewhat panicked whimper that escaped Beast Boy's canine jaws provided further evidence and, if she required some finer confirmation, Cassandra's frightfully wild and wide eyes as she looked upon the advancing Luthor provided a potentially grisly hat trick.

But Lex had already nipped that potential problem area in the bud. He was damn well aware that his takeover of the audience would circumvent any raging or righteous reaction that Wonder Girl or any of her fellow Teen Titans could fire back with in response to the baleful sacrilege. The ball was in his court as he took the podium after a quick handshake with his master of ceremonies and now it was all Kara could do to make certain that her comrades didn't set fire to the arena.

"I understand that a great many of you may have some questions at the ready," Luthor began with his familiar calm and dulcet manner, the ridiculously blatant understatement drawing some welcome laughter from the public and press corps alike. "However, before we continue onward with the future I know I would be remiss if I chose to ignore the confusion of the past."

Luthor slid his hands away from the podium and presented his open palms. Kara heard the steady cadence of his heart beat and couldn't help but show some sick respect for how calm the monster could be while weaving his tapestry.

"I recognize that the tragic series of events that surrounded the final days of my presidency still leave behind many questions that deserve answers. In these last, long four years I have tried my hardest to search inward for what drove me to such bold and rash behaviors as it regards to those that have defended us from the awe-inspiring threats that originate not just from our own soil and oceans but also from planets far away. What I find truly disconcerting though is that I still believe that some of the brightest spots of my administration could be found in my administration's attempts to coordinate global military operations with that of our superhero community. Together we were able to synchronize providing defense as well as pave a path to the future, an avenue for those with such astonishing godlike gifts could employ their blessings to better mankind rather than merely defend it."

Kara took another deep breath as Luthor's admission drew a subdued round of applause. It _was _true that more than a handful of Luthor-led initiatives had led to some significant advances in alleviating hunger and environmental stress the world over. Of course, Kara also recognized that the former president's "bold and rash behaviors" were attributed towards Lex's seemingly ceaseless envy towards her cousin and an addiction to liquid kryptonite that he had apparently used to attempt to become the equal of the metahumans he envied and hated. The physical augmentations he received coincided with a drastic decrease in cognitive stability that inevitably allowed Bruce Wayne and Talia Al-Ghul to all but snatch Luthor's chief financial holdings seemingly without his notice. All that was left for the cherry on the self-induced humiliation sundae was a public thrashing at the hands of Superman whilst Luthor screamed and launched threats that he would bring about the near extinction of humanity.

Of course, the former Supergirl strongly suspected that Luthor's explanation would be a bit further away from the mark.

"I have had a great deal of time to reflect upon the disastrous days wherein I strayed from my rightful belief in champions such as Superman to defend us from threats that were impossible for us to control. In my failure to adapt to my inadequacies I allowed myself to surrender to the anger and hopelessness that we must all face when presented with our own human error." Luthor clenched his left fist tightly as he delivered his confession, his fingers compressing and quivering as if he were trying to wrench the emotion from his soul. "In the end I was left to leave my ambitions and fortunes in the hands of those who were still capable of recognizing the small steps that shall carry us to the promised land; people such as the brave and enterprising men and women here at Megadyne Industries."

_And Bruce Wayne. And Amanda Waller and Talia Al-Ghul and Scandal Savage and so many other people that you're trying to destroy because they won't file in line with whatever you're trying to do_, Kara couldn't help but silently add as she prodded the tip of her tongue against the right side of her cheek. Of course, Luthor was well aware that he had already emerged victorious from whatever public relations battle that could take place here and kindly ignored the half-Kryptonian's acerbic and silent retort and looked down upon his audience with steely determination about his brow.

"I had come to convince myself that it had become my place to stand by and allow humanity to take up my legacy from where I had so foolishly left it. However, as I spent the months searching for answers I discovered that there was a portion of me that could not allow that kind of righteous complacency. I dug deeper into that fragment of my soul, something that I must admit that I had long abandoned, and discovered the power of God's grace. And, as I draw ever closer to the winter of my life I know that I shall find no true atonement within standing idly by. I must seek forgiveness through doing whatever I can to remove the tarnishes I myself placed upon my personal legacy."

Stunned by the unexpected turn of the admission, none of the audience around the grounds or upon the stage were fully prepared as Luthor turned to Wonder Girl. Settling himself upon one knee, he reached out to grasp Cassandra's still hand and hold it against his clasped palms. Playing his part to perfection, Clancy Spacey looked quite frazzled as he hurriedly snatched the microphone from its stand on the podium and placed it near his boss's face.

"Miss Sandsmark, let me say that I did not bring you up here and introduce this painful memory to you to mock the heart and determination you put into helping defend this city. I truly wish that I could return Connor Kent to you, a young soldier who fought and died on the streets of Metropolis and a proud man whom I had come to care for as a son. What you see here is a symbol of my attempt to make things right, no matter how flawed and imperfect though that may be. What you see here I wish to present not as a tragic mistake of the past but as a symbol of the future; the truest revelation in the future of the global defense initiative that have already taken far too many young lives."

Kara counted out the cadence of Cassandra's heartbeat and recognized that her pulse was nearly double of her resting rate. The lips of the blonde-haired demigod were pulled as tight as her brow as she kept the hand trapped within Lex's clutches forcefully still. Kara knew that her potential colleague had the professional skills to recognize that a violent reaction would have touched off a potential firestorm but it was clear that the histrionic declarations were bringing about a vengeful rage that Wonder Girl was straining vigorously to keep shut. The former Supergirl did a quick run through of her senses and picked up Beast Boy's anxious growl and Timothy's clenched fists. She felt a simmering in the back of her cerebral cortex as Raven's outrage leaked through her telepathic link.

It may have been only a matter of time before everything fell apart. Fortunately for them, that was when Metallo descended towards the grounds with five of his inferior facsimiles at his back. The androids apparently chose to avoid the far more brutal but shrewd stratagem of simply opening fire into the tightly packed crowd and went with landing upon the stage. The addition of several tons of dense metal on the western half of the stage caused the underlying supports to let out an audible whine but that drone could only be picked up by Garfield and Kara as the whirr of Corben's plasma cannon drowned out the mechanical strain as he aimed the barrel at Luthor.

"Ya left a lot of people happy when you decided to go underground, Lex," Metallo began with the casual menace that one could build up from years of working together. "A smart guy like you should have known that somebody was going to take a swipe at your neck if you were going to poke your head out the ground."

* * *

_Aensland Manor – 3:58 A.M. Greenwich Mean Time_

A half-dozen Amazons charged into the tastefully designed makeshift arena, their ornate battle armor and gleaming mystic steel weaponry clashing awfully with the opulent carpeting and the well-maintained brick covered fireplace. Jason Blood could dimly hear Morrigan "chastising" Circe's willing puppets for their lack of dramatic subtlety but the aged warlock wisely forced to marshal his senses as well as his supernatural arsenal. His left hand tensed around the enchanted staff he had summoned during Morrigan's opening salvo, the human host of Etrigan extended his right hand like an open fang as glimmering bolts of whitish-blue energy whizzed from each of his fingertips while another exploded from his palm. Four of the six attacks found their targets as two of the Amazons were shot through the skull while two more were knocked down but saved from more grievous damage through a half-successful dodge or the strength of their armor.

This left two remaining Themysciran warriors to presumably rip the centuries old man to bloody shreds but Jason hadn't kept himself alive since the times of Merlin merely by reading books and practicing enchantments. Displaying a reflexive prowess honed through enough time and training to make his opponents seem like toddlers, Blood managed to disarm one of the muscle-bound Amazons with a precise strike to the back of her sword hand while swerving away from the slashes of the other. That advantage, in turn, lasted for roughly a second-and-a-half before a blur of bright green popped into the corner of his eye. Having sensed the demonic beast well before seeing it, Blood was able to get away with just a hairline scratch along his right shoulder as he swerved to mostly avoid the razor sharp wings of an Emerald Regid, one of the gargoyle-like beasts that had served Neron during his successful invasion of Hashmalamum. Felling the beast with a shot from the tip of his rod as the Regid attempted to make another pass, Blood let out a curse while silently summoning a protective barrier that shielded him from the assault of the other four Regids that followed their brethren into the fray. There were dim crackles along his cerebral cortex as he felt the beasts lashing against the barrier with their fearsome natural instruments but any possibility of collecting himself fully were truly cut short as Circe's warriors moved in to add their own strength back into the mix.

Morrigan's laughter rang out clear and true, far too much so for Blood to believe that the succubus hadn't amplified her presence through the aid of her own power. "Oh, what a pathetic showin' this happens to be!" the voluptuous immortal crowed while skimming her elegant hands through her rich jade tresses. "Do forgive the profoundly old man, lads and lasses. Mister Blood has forgotten most of his dance steps and he may be too nervous to show whatever he's got left."

Blood allowed the laughter of the crowd to carry on for a moment just to provide some potentially necessary motivation. Then he exploded from the increasingly uncontrollable fray with a burst of kinetic force that sent his winged and womanly opponents scattering. Disappearing the instant before his skull could crack and splinter against Morrigan's stern barrier, he emerged a moment later on the central balcony where Morrigan had been joined by some of her more noteworthy patrons. Wrapping his spare hand around the back of Morrigan's neck, Blood growled as he dug his paltry fingernails into the throat of the laughing succubus before slamming her into the bookcase that stood to the west of the doorway. Ancient tomes scattered while criminals and saints alike screamed from surprise and worry but Morrigan seemed to not be the least bit perturbed even as she took a long gaze into the seemingly bottomless black pools of Jason's eyes.

"From dull plank to poseur then," Morrigan countered with as much clarity as one could manage when somebody's hand was wrapped around your wind pipe. A simple outburst of physical or demonic energy would have allowed her to burst free but she merely settled for the mild discomfort while continuing to soak in the emotional maelstrom as if she were enjoying a fine wine. She faintly heard Jason's soft chanting and felt the smile creeping onto her pouty lips as the pressure around her neck grew tighter and unholy heat began to creep along her shoulders and trachea. The mantra-induced transformation was near instantaneous as Etrigan took the place of his human overseer, the agent of chaos initially greeting Morrigan with a hard frown.

"A fine meal this mêlée thine brought into be, my acclaim and attentions I give to thee," the orange-skinned demon growled in greeting while bringing Morrigan in closer. Kicking Jason's staff aside, Etrigan lowered his massive right paw down Morrigan's back as he went to licking at the burn scars around the succubus's neck with his long, forked tongue. "How now thy tang reeks of inferior stock, is thine truly so parched for a demonic co. . ."

"A wee lass must sometimes take resources where it can be found, old friend," Morrigan said in greeting while swirling away from Etrigan's mockingly merciful attention. "And it's not as if you're one to talk, are ya? These winds of change be billowin' about your cloak just as firmly as it does around these black wings of mine." The succubus continued to flash her winning smile while fluttering the slight but distinctive bat-like wings that hung along her lower back.

Etrigan only allowed a snarl as he bounded through Morrigan's barrier on his way towards the ground floor of the manor. Ensnaring two of the airborne Regids within the grip of his bulky but agile arms, the greater demon made sure to give the Amazons a vicious smile before smashing the skulls of his captives like ripe melons against the wooden floor. Launching one of the blood-drenched corpses at another pair of flying beasts swooping from where they had tried and failed to break through the barrier, the immortal warrior let out a laugh as he employed his other prize as an unorthodox but effective shield against the strikes of the Themysciran criminals. After several moments of this he shoved what little remained into the revolted face of one of the lovely humans before opening his maw wide and letting loose a stream of hellfire that was vociferous enough to set the carpet at his feet ablaze.

Of course, the treatment the flooring received was downright merciful in comparison to what was given to the Amazons that wound up being broiled alive within their own armor. The surprisingly fortunate soul who took the blast head-on became little more than ash left to gather about her scalded plate mail but two others that received only "glancing" blows were left to screech and squeal as the unholy fire ran amongst their limbs and chests as the infernal magic ate away at their beleaguered bodies and troubled souls until death would finally come for them. Needing only seconds to deal with the handful of beasts that possessed the courage to challenge him further, Etrigan then glanced upward at the observers who were brave or stunned enough to remain and provided them with a smile that was wide enough to display the dagger-like fangs the lined the ridges of his upper gum line.

"For those who sought brave sport and sadism hark, for now the whore's game mirrors the warbling lark. Forgive my haste and my performance on whole yet I now seek a boy with stains on his soul." Concluding his closing statement with a gentledemonly curtsy, Etrigan bounded from the broken and scorched ruins of the battlefield and darted down the hallways on all fours. The sharp nails of his hands dug harshly into the polished wood floor while his keen senses pointed him towards his destination as the demon loped through the hall like a rampaging gorilla before forcing open a door that ran along the hallway that bordered Morrigan's board room.

"Geez, Etty. A little privacy for the sated lady, will ya?"

Caught between the unique dilemma of contempt and respect, Etrigan flared out his nostrils before letting out a deep rumble of laughter. Though clearly running the risk of being improper, the demon did allow Roy Harper some quiet time as the sharpshooter retrieved his underwear and jeans from the floor. Placing both the BMFG and a recently fired Desert Eagle and the BMFG on the nightstand that bordered the left side of the bed that dominated the smallish room, the former Checkmate agent calmly buttoned up his jeans while the blue-skinned woman wrapped within the satin sheets of the bed displayed an eerily similar demeanor. Taking a second to stoop down and give the sex worker a quick but deep kiss, Roy brushed his nimble fingers across the bulbous ridges along the women's forehead before calmly stepping over one of the three dead Amazons that decorated the tiny room.

"So I'm guessing that Morrigan wasn't quite on the level?" Arsenal didn't wait for Etrigan to provide a reply as he swerved around the greater demon and jogged into the hallway. "Well, I haven't heard from Lloyd so I'm presuming that he's either all right or in something that I can't help him out of."

Understanding the unspoken request from the bare-chested human, Etrigan broke into a dash that was just slow enough for the shirtless Roy to match pace. Passing through the enormous hub of the manor once again, the two morally dicey saviors of the world had little trouble blasting away at whatever meager resistance that came their way on the path toward their destination. Finally coming to a stop at the southwestern corner of the mansion's ground floor nucleus, the demon and the sharpshooter worked quickly to pick out their targets amongst the half-dozen Emerald Regids that had surrounded their youngest comrade and a gaggle of panicked partygoers that the young Teen Titan was nobly trying to protect. A spray of impressively sharp ice daggers from Roy's BMFG brought down two of the gargoyle-like beasts while Kid Devil was able to deliver a savage uppercut to another. This left Jason's demon to wrangle the three that remained which the orange-skinned denizen of hell did with such grisly efficiency that the innocent bystanders appeared to be more frightened of the rhyming hell beast than of Sabbac's warriors.

"All right, so now most of the gang is all here," Roy observed with a commanding shout while scouting the scene with his firearms at the ready. "Now all that's left to do is for the boss to find us."

The sound of a nearly 900-pound, three-quarter demonic wrecking ball smashed through the outward wall of a room that bordered the makeshift arena. Having only been about 20 meters or so from the source of the impact, Roy hardly had to stretch his eyeballs to catch the sight of Lloyd and Sabbac quickly leaping back to their feet after the destruction and engaging in another round of fisticuffs. A contingent of Amazons and Regids also made their way through the wreckage, the unusual group having obviously been set to stand by as their leader attempted to beat his former killer to a pulp. Of course, now that other company had arrived, Luthor's less noteworthy warriors apparently had no qualms with charging past the two brawlers on their way to more warfare.

"Gotta love that about our little English muffin," Roy said aloud, his words nearly drowned out by the screams, Etrigan's hungry growl, and the hum of his own energy pistol. "He just makes himself so easy to find when you really need him."

* * *

Kara tried not to dig too much into the fact that the surrounding chaos seemed to assure her more than the calm that had come before it. She could feel the supernatural force inherited from her Praxian mother simmering at her fingertips and was quite tempted to launch it straight at the towering leader of Lex's "attackers". The fact that Metallo seemed to have completely recovered from the damage she had brought upon the android in the battle at The Iceberg Lounge was already gnawing at her but her emotional training was quick to cut off her anger at the pass. Even so she did notice Tim swinging his right arm in front of her, a purely cautionary measure that the former Supergirl tried not to draw any offense from."

"I know, Tim. I know. This isn't the first time that I've had to avoid a fight to stay out of the public eye."

Tim could only offer a slight tilt of his head in response to Kara's gentle chiding as he was already encumbered with darting his knowledgeable eyes around the battlefield. "If Luthor is half as interested you as Batman says then at least one of his goals here is to try and get you out into the open. Just let the Titans handle this."

Kara silently acquiesced with nary a hedge to her composure. After all, the sudden arrival meant that Tim also had no real shot at suiting up and joining his friends on the battlefield and it wouldn't be proper to indulge while one of his hosts worked hard to abstain from doing the same. The response that followed the first salvo did provide some welcome reassurance as a dark violet barrier wrapped itself around Metallo and his allies only a moment before they prepared to fire their cannons and guns into the crowd. Raven's defensive efforts managed to hold up quite nicely in the precious seconds that were required for Mia and Oliver to organize the surrounding citizens and get them to higher ground. Corben himself was the first to realize the goings on and rushed to shatter the bubble but he was intercepted by a blur of red and gold that hurtled into him at the precise moment when the shield went down. The force of Wonder Girl's shoulder block was enough to send Corben hurtling through the air for at least half a block before he finally crashed into and through one of the older elm trees in the neighboring park and plummeted to the payment. Cyborg was the next to provide his share as the audible hum of his plasma cannon accompanied two concussive bursts of energy that each hit one of Metallo's lesser powerful companions with enough force to send them plunging off the platform and sliding down the stone steps.

On the other hand, Kara also found herself several seconds off when it came to her prediction of exactly when things would turn pear shaped. The first sign came when Beast Boy's attempt to soar into the fray in the form of a mighty Peregrine falcon was intercepted with a spray of plasma fire that skidded into his left wing and set him down in a pained heap. Raven's anger-inspired burst of telekinetic energy that ran against the three standing automatons managed to keep things even until Green Arrow and Speedy could rush onto the battlefield but that was also enough time for both Corben and one of Cyborg's former targets to rush back into the fray as well. Corben made certain to turn his ire on his most pressing target and downed Cyborg with a plasma burst of his own before going into close quarters combat with Wonder Girl on a far more even footing than before. The adopted Amazon managed to hold her own against the android that had lain even Superman low on a number of occasions but two of Metallo's henchmen were already gunning for Raven and the archers from Star City were already hard pressed to deal with their far stronger and better armed adversaries.

Then. . . things just went weird.

It wasn't just the matter that whatever Luthor was passing off as Superboy suddenly soared into the fray and tore apart the android that was attempting to perforate Mia Dearden with machine gun fire. What truly disconcerted the half-Kryptonian was that three other "Superboys", each of them dressed in the same casual attire as the one that came before them, all came roaring from the front door of Megadyne Industries and made a beeline for Metallo and his comrades. A kinetic maelstrom followed highlighted with tremendous haymakers that produced shockwaves that rattled the surrounding trees and windows. Blasts of heat vision soon followed and Kara took a breath as the ambient solar force washed against Kara's increasingly concerned countenance. The battle was as brief and short as one would predict as Metallo's forces met a violent end while their beleaguered leader beat a quick retreat using the same transmat technology he had employed in Gotham and Hong Kong.

For all the confusion at the start it seemed that the matter had been settled with a kind of rapid clarity that was usually hard to come by in the realm of super heroics.

Well, except for the Superboys. Kara guessed that somebody was going to have to answer some questions on that.

* * *

"Worst. Field trip. Ever."

Hal Jordan let out a tired sigh, a minute gesture that threatened to be blotted out in the face of the monolithic structure that stood before he and his mouthy companion. "This isn't a field trip, Lieutenant Brown. The Guardians of Oa have given us this mission to uncover just who is behind whatever assistance that Lex Luthor employed to acquire the Karbarran ores and metal stockpiles that he is apparently using to manufacture these mass produced Metallos. And, given that the both of us have apparently acquired a reputation that seems to precede us as it comes to these potential threats, we're the natural dignitaries for the interests of the galactic community."

Stephanie offered a second for the words to sink in for the Green Lantern who spoke them before offering back a look that ached with nonchalance. "Fine. Worst community service ever," the Gotham-based Robin noted before huffing up at a lock of her blonde hair that had escaped her hair band during their latest supersonic journey. "So first I nearly get myself killed being The Guardians' guinea pig as it comes to figuring out whatever sick, twisted black arts that Leokar Kurkosaw got himself into after Sinestro was forced to give him the heave ho. Then I get paired up with you and sent to an almost abandoned planet where I nearly get myself killed again by some whackadoodle with something that looks frighteningly similar to one of our power rings. And now we're here standing in front of this. . . admittedly impressive coliseum that would give Michael Bay a boner if he could use it in the next Transformers movie preparing to meet. . . I'm sorry. What are they calling themselves again?"

Hal Jordan fired back with a glance that was nearly equivocal to Stephanie's past sarcastic efforts.

"You know damn well what they're calling themselves. Now we've been getting into the occasional scrape with these guys but right now there isn't enough information for either side to feel comfortable with diving head first into galactic warfare. Of course, if they have collaborated with Luthor to provide Karbarran materials then they are interfering with two of The Guardians' pet projects and _that's _going to raise some eyebrows."

Stephanie let out a droning hum. "And the puppets keep dancing along their strings all the while," she then replied, her already acerbic candor taking on a sing-song tone as she wiggled the fingers of her left hand to impersonate a puppeteer. "Hal, you do realize that you have a _shit ton _of questions to answer after putting me through all this with no explanation, right?"

The more experienced of the two intergalactic crime fighters turned to face his lively comrade with a sliver of the debonair smirk that had enticed many a charming lady. "Stephanie, has it ever occurred to you that there may be somebody else out there who wants to know what the hell is going on in their little part of the world?"

Rarely one to surrender immediately to the logic of others, Stephanie allowed the sight of several creatures soaring towards them to distract her from the conversation that would now be saved for another time. The youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns felt the unique energy signatures of the three airborne travelers and did her best to piece them out amongst the hundreds upon hundreds of similar mystic marks that apparently awaited them within the massive citadel. Recognizing that she was now in a situation that was potentially a shit ton more hazardous than on Maltus, she maintained her patience as the greeters came to a hovering stop just 10 yards away with a precision that reeked of military-like precision and preparation.

The organized quartet allowed their precision to serve as a silent greeting that hung for a second or so until one of them broke through the line. Standing nearly seven feet tall and equipped with long and lanky limbs to match his narrow, elongated brow and oral cavity, his mottled sandy brown skin served to mesh horribly with the crimson glow the surrounded him. Sparing a second to give Hal a contemptuous glare, he turned to face Stephanie and delivered a deep bow of his head while drawing air from the gill-like slits of his undersized nose. While parting his thick lips to speak Stephanie found that she could just make out a tinge of energy that she couldn't help but find familiar.

"Greetings to you, distinguished warriors. I am Vice, the second-in-command of The Red Lantern Corps."

* * *

Luthor hadn't even made it to the lobby elevators before he had ceased making any attempt to restrain his smile. Calmly smoothing out the sleeves of his shirt, the former president had no trouble drowning out Clancy Spacey's excited chatter about preliminary project studies and profit margins. As useful as his lively minion had been in the months since his painfully public downfall the simple fact remained that simple matters like money and reputation just needed to be ignored in the face of what was to come. This reveal of a fraction of his grand design provided a nice hint of amusement but time was running short as it came to the first true point of action.

And _that! _After all the years of analysis, speculation, experimentation, and decisive conclusions there was no way for even Luthor to be momentarily blinded to the present time. Of course, he wasn't nearly deprived enough of his senses to ignore the near certainty that one of Wayne's noble lackeys would inevitably arrive to interrupt his ruminations. The only question that remained was just who it would be and he found himself being the slightest hint surprised as a serrated butterfly knife punched through the button on the elevator control panel an instant before he could press it himself. Letting out a cleansing breath in the midst of the predictability, Luthor wisely ignored Spacey's panicked sputtering and turned to face his guest.

"My goodness, Mister Queen. Such a dramatic and expensive outburst for just a simple introduction? Little wonder that your constituents were so quick to evict you from your mayorship."

Green Arrow had no problems matching Luthor's nonchalance.

"Sorry, Lex. Guess I just got so darn excited about the thought of us having a little chat."

* * *

_Misfits Confidential_

Yeah. . . well. . . guess there might be a lot of questions on the minds of the couple hundred or so that are still reading this story of mine on a regular basis, yeah? I know it seems like I'm attempting to make a landmark statement with the end of every issue but I do want to talk about what's going on because those of you who have read and reviewed certainly deserve some answers.

When I started this story nearly seven years ago I was still trying to grow up and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Of course, while I haven't figured out everything I definitely have more of my eyes on the proper prize than I used to. I'm getting married, I have a life that I'm content with far more often than not, and I have a whole bunch of obligations that can keep me from coming back to this one thing that I used to give me balance and peace of mind. And now, with me being a pretty solid grown-up, things like these can fall by the way side but I can't ever see myself abandoning it altogether. This was my first creative baby and I'm proud of the way it's grown up and I want to see where it goes. I'm just more certain about what it will be than when I used to have my eyes on it all the time.

Is that confusing? Well, such is life, I suppose.

* * *

_Issue #149 Preview_

Just one more issue before the century-and-a-half mark and it seems like there's so many confrontations that have yet to be resolved. There's Lloyd and Sabbac battling it out at Aensland Manor where a "boy's night out" is about to receive a significant boost in female authority while a wounded Batman suddenly finds himself between a fanged feline and a bird with an unusual sharp beak. Oh, and one best not forget that Hal and Stephanie have a meeting with the mysterious Red Lantern Corps and the possibility that this new threat may be aligned with Lex Luthor. All that and a battle between a disgraced former mayor and a disgraced former president in the next installment of _The Misfits_: Best Worst Interests. Until then, remember to say what you think and write what you feel!


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